Warming Trend (16 page)

She rolled into the driveway, disappointed that there was no sign of Eve’s van. Tonk met her at the door, all black fur and happily shared slobber, and wanting lots of pets. She dropped to her knees long enough to give him a big hug. She got up, though, when she heard a woman’s voice.

“Eve? Honey?” She followed the voice and realized it was Eve’s answering machine.

“…and if you think you’ll ever work for us again, you’ve got another thing coming. That woman is a disgrace, so you can tear up that contract and stick it. I thought I was being open-minded when I hired a lezzie, but now there’s no way!”

The line went dead and Ani stood there, stunned by the woman’s vitriol. Eve had done nothing and she was losing business? Her machine was flashing with a dozen messages. Ani made herself listen, clicking through them one by one. Some people told lies about something coming up, others just flat out said they’d have nothing to do with someone whose lover was a thief, and there was another call like the one Ani had overheard, mean and hateful.

Inside, Ani was in one moment a raw nerve, wincing at everything. In the next, she felt like a moraine stone, ground down by forces she couldn’t control and, in turn, grinding everything in her path. Even if Eve would listen, how could she forgive Ani for ruining her business?

In the bathroom she got her toothbrush, and off the nightstand her watch, her favorite one, a gift from Eve. She took a minute to put a cold cloth on her burning eyes, then grabbed a few more underthings out of her drawer. The last thing she took was the little treasure box she’d had since she was a girl, with the pair of pearl earrings that had been her mother’s. She’d been thinking of giving them to Eve.

Eve was better off without her. Everyone was better off without her. She was going to go as far away as she could.

As she went to the front door, Tonk joined her, his tail wagging with such energy that it created a draft.

“Sorry, boy, you can’t go with me…” Ani sank down to her knees again, fresh tears stinging her eyes. To a dog, her person leaving was the same every time. Person leaves, she comes back.

Tonk didn’t understand goodbye.

She would have crumbled, right then, but Tonk’s solidity braced her long enough to recover her resolve. “She’ll take care of you, I know she will. I’m coming back, I promise.”

That’s when it was real. She was running away. She’d lost her dream of being Dr. Bycall, who credited her father for most of what she knew. Dr. Bycall, whose dissertation would spearhead a cross-discipline comparative analysis of deep sea and glacial temperature changes. Scientist Ani Bycall, partner of chef Eve Cambra. Just plain Ani, happy woman. And now she was giving up Tonk, offspring of Tonk the wonder sled dog, companion of her childhood, whose uncomplicated love had seen her through her father’s death. Her tears matted the fur at Tonk’s neck. Tonk was the most innocent of all, and he’d miss her every day and every day think that was the day she’d come back.

She had stumbled out to her truck, too wrung out to cry, though her eyes had seeped tears for most of the drive to Anchorage. A cheap motel, no real plans.

“Eve didn’t have e-mail and I tried to call and leave a message, ask her to take care of Tonk,” she told Lisa. “But her phone just rang and rang, like she’d turned off the answering machine. Her cell phone wasn’t accepting messages. I got to a computer at the Anchorage campus library and could pick up my student e-mail. I wrote Monica, said I was sorry again. And asked her to ask Eve about Tonk—but I didn’t tell her where I was going. I didn’t know. I did tell Tan my address when I settled, that’s who sends me the boxes of news. She knew I did it, but she’s still kind Anyway, my mailbox was full of—well, at first I thought it was spam, but turned out most of them really were meant for me. So much for obscenity filters. The
Fairbanks Journal
had a long article online about it, and the student blogs, I mean, people were threatening me. They already knew I’d taken off, and that sealed my guilt as far as they were concerned. And there were plenty of people who thought Monica put me up to it, and all of her study was in jeopardy.”

“But it worked out okay for her in the end, didn’t it?”

“Yes, eventually. I can’t imagine that it was much fun for her, living down those innuendoes. And from that picture, I’d say Eve did okay. That once I was gone, she got clients back. And…well, they found each other, it looks like.”

Lisa looked thoughtful. “So…Key West?”

“I sold my truck and some other stuff. Bought a ticket to Tampa—it was cheap, one way. I worked in a bar there for just a bit. Bought my scooter and started moving along. Finally demonstrated the Conch Indie for the manager at On the Rocks, and the rest is history.”

“Playing with ice behind the bar, still.”

“Yep.” Ani tried to stretch her legs in the seat. “Did someone really swap out your wax and ruin your chances in a competition?”

“I totally crashed and burned. So much for being the next Rochelle Ballard.”

“I don’t know who that is, but I know you’ll tell me.”

Lisa stuck out her tongue. “She’s the Monica Tyndell of surfing.”

Ani had to smile at that. “Okay, you get points for brevity. Why surfing? Seriously.” Ani was happy to talk about anything but her. The closer they got to Alaska the more she dreaded it.

“It’s unity.” Lisa’s entire expression softened. “Not just head to toe, but the air around you, the board, the waves. If you can move in perfect unity it feels as if you’ll glide forever, powered by your body and the ocean. It’s better than almost anything.”

“Almost anything?”

“I’ve had sex once or twice that was better.”

“Once or twice?”

“Okay, twice. And I suppose Eve was better than glaciers?”

“She made me realize there was more than that. That I could have both was a miracle. Losing both in one fell swoop—I didn’t think anything really mattered. I just put money in the bank and tried to forget I ever had any dreams. The seasons don’t really change in Key West, and time just drifted along. I’m still a little stunned that it’s been three years.”

“It really bites,” Lisa said, “because whoever really took those notes has gotten away with it.”

“They didn’t take Monica down at least. I just wish the research hadn’t been lost.”

The cabin announcement that they were about to land in Seattle brought a heavy sigh from Lisa. “One of the reasons I never did the Hawaii surf scene is the long flights. I’m vindicated—flying is such a pain.”

“We’re flying a fifth of the way around the world. And we’ll still be in the U.S.”

“Well, it’ll be the second state I’ve ever visited.”

Ani smiled inwardly, thinking about what a shock Lisa was in for. “You don’t get around much.”

Lisa shrugged as she stowed her seatback table in its full and upright, locked position. “Neither do you. Besides, travel takes money and surfing doesn’t exactly bring in the bucks.”

“That would explain the dancing and drink slinging.”

“Exactly. What do Alaskans do during those long winter nights?”

“If you’re lucky, you’re cozy and warm with the woman you love,” Ani said. Images of her and Eve, their first and only winter, flittered through her mind, especially the joy of slowly shedding their clothes on the way to bed. Stopping to laugh, sometimes not waiting for the bedroom. They had done things not considered hygienic in a kitchen. The memories sent a delicious bright fire along her nerves. “The sun’s down, so it’s always time for bed.”

“Sounds heavenly. What do you do the rest of the time?”

“You can windsurf on the ice. You can skydive. You can whitewater raft. Extreme skiing everywhere you turn.”

“All I’m hearing is frostbite. End of story.”

Ani lifted one eyebrow. “We do wear more than a swimsuit to do these things, you know.”

“And once you’re trussed up like Charlie Brown, no one can tell if you’re male or female.”

Ani had never had any trouble spotting Eve’s curves under the green and blue all-weather gear she’d preferred. There had never been any doubt that Eve was female. If you asked her, Alaskans viewed people with more perceptive eyes. There was nothing subtle about Lisa’s swimsuit.

When they finally deplaned, Ani thought the Seattle airport was much like Atlanta. It was designed to look like a shopping mall, but the feeling of being encased in an artificial atmosphere was inescapable. Perhaps it was what living on the moon would be like.

The closer the flight time came for the final leg of the journey, however, the more attached she became to the bronze salmon plaques embedded in the floor and the coffee shops. When the flight was called, she announced that she’d like to stay right there, in the dry, stale recirculated air.

“C’mon,” Lisa said, grabbing her arm, “it’s the last line we have to stand in today. I’m your hot blond girlfriend and I will make sure everybody knows you’re a successful hunk now. If that’s what you really want me to do.”

Ani shook her head. Suddenly it was large in her mind that she might see Eve, see Eve with Monica and Monica with Eve. “I’m thinking it’s probably a bad idea. I think I just want to get my stuff and go. Show you the sights maybe, around Anchorage. We can wait to go to Fairbanks until the last day or something.”

“Nope.” Lisa gave her a little push as the boarding queue advanced. “No way are you chickening out.”

She is a curse for my sins, Ani thought. All the same, she was glad Lisa was there because nothing about the next few days would be easy.

“There’s a lot of snow down there.” Lisa peered out the airplane window. “What’s the local time again?”

“Almost ten.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The sun’s not down yet.” Ani leaned over her to look at the vista. Summer—more green than white at sea level. Their flight path was approaching Anchorage along Gompertz Channel, and the water was smooth as slate from this altitude. A rolling vista of ice and granite stretched to the north and due west, edges and peaks washed in orange by the bronze disc of the sun as it flirted with the horizon.

The diminishing light painted most of the area around Anchorage in coal-blue shadows and the white-yellow lights of the city were starting to twinkle, hazy and slow. That meant it had been a warm day. In the winter, those lights sparkled like stars in the cold, dry night. In about two hours, the northern lights would dazzle in green and gold over the Chugach Mountains. She couldn’t wait for her first lungful of clean, cool air.

“Am I really going to see some midnight sun?”

“If you stay awake long enough. I’m planning on crashing. And honestly, we need to get a few things or the place is going to eat us alive. Layers, and you need a serious jacket and real boots. It can be eighty during the day, but afternoon hail and thunderstorms aren’t uncommon. The overnights will be colder than anything a Florida girl has ever felt.”

“Sounds like more delaying tactics to me.”

Lisa must be tired—though the words mocked, her tone was almost indulgent. Ani merely said, “Survival skills.”

The shadows and perspective hid the full scope of the landscape east of Anchorage. For the first time since leaving Ani felt her senses tighten. Her home, this climate where her DNA had been shaped by powerful evolutionary forces, was not a place where
siesta
had any meaning. Every day took foresight and preparedness—only a feckless tourist could hope to muddle through an Alaskan day. The odds were good that none of the ferocity of the elements would strike in mid-July. But a year-round resident understood that gambling with nature had only one possible outcome: nature won, always. “We’re getting some basic gear tomorrow, before we do anything.”

“If you say so, boss.”

“I do.” She gave Lisa a steady look. “You really don’t know anything about me.”

“I saw the way you ran the bar. You know what you know.”

“Why, thank you. That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Lisa grinned. “Well, I misspoke. What you know that you know—you know. But there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know you know, and that’s when you muck it up.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“It does. It’s up to you to figure it out.”

Ani lifted one eyebrow. “Do not ever, not ever, go into a career as a therapist. You’re the type that would take away everybody’s superpowers.”

They touched down with the glare of the sunset painting the inside of the plane coral and copper. Ani tamped down the hopeful feeling she had—nothing had changed. Time had elapsed, and that was all. The Naomi had advanced less than ten inches while she’d been gone and it was possible that people’s hearts were just as frozen. Eve’s heart had thawed—toward someone else.

But the light was so welcome to her eyes. The brief flood of air as she crossed the Jetway into the terminal seared her sinuses and throat. Forget the aircraft diesel, the cloying oil of machinery—this now was
air
. Real air in her lungs, after so long.

“What’s the hurry?” Lisa kept pace with her as she walked rapidly from the gate area toward the terminal doors.

Ani burst out of the building into the cooling summer night, gasping like a swimmer surfacing from too long under water. Filling her lungs, exhaling, filling again. She got dizzy, leaned over, but kept on gulping in the fresh, clean air.

Hands on her knees, she asked Lisa, “Do you feel it?”

“What? Fresh air? It’s about time. We’ve been in airports or airplanes for at least eighteen hours. I don’t think my left ear is ever going to pop.”

Abruptly Ani had no control over her legs. “I’m…”

“Hey—there’s no falling down in airports!” Lisa supported her to a nearby bench. “What gives? C’mon, put your head between your knees.”

“I’m okay.”

“No you’re not. Don’t make me get a paper bag for you to breathe through.”

Ani, her voice muffled by her knees, said, “I knew I’d feel something, I’m just a little surprised.”

“You’re hyperventilating.”

Between breaths, Ani gasped, “No, I’m not.”

“No wonder she wouldn’t listen—you don’t listen either.” Lisa smacked her hard on her lower back.