A Dolphin's Gift (3 page)

Nellie stood at
the sink gazing through the window at the dock below, her hands resting on the
counter. Noticing that she still wore her wedding ring, Will asked, "How
long has it been since your husband... uh…" his words trailed off.

"About a
year and a half," Nellie replied. "Mike’s still going through a
period of adjustment, as you may have guessed."

Will started
slicing ham. "You said you'd been fired... that is... you lost your
job."

"Well, it
isn't like you think," Nellie said. "It's not easy to hold down a job
and raise a child alone. Most men don't realize that. Kids get sick and they
get into scraps at school. And there are other problems, like teacher
conferences and chicken pox, and washing machines overflowing. When I asked to
get off work to come here, my boss thought I'd taken off too much time already,
so he fired me. Well, terminated my position. I do get some unemployment."

Will tossed
several scraps of ham into Zeke's bowl and the tabby left his perch on the
window ledge to inspect the tidbits. Crouched over the bowl, the tip of his
tail waving with contentment, he devoured the ham. Placing some scraps in
another bowl, Will glanced at Nellie. And what kind of man would turn a widow
in Nellie Reid's situation out of her own boat? But he'd had an agreement with
her uncle. Plans were made, sonar equipment installed, the
Isadora
almost ready. He also reminded himself that Nellie Reid was
not his problem. His first commitment was to the Marine Science Institute and
the foundation funding his research. And for that, he needed the
Isadora
. "This is for your
dog," he said, setting the bowl on the counter.

Nellie looked
up, surprised by Will's thoughtfulness. "Thanks," she replied. She
moved beside him to help with the sandwiches. As he began to spread a glob of
mayonnaise on a slice of bread, she yelped, "Wait!" He looked at her
with curiosity. "Mike doesn't eat mayonnaise or pickles or mustard on his
sandwich. Actually, he doesn't eat tomatoes or lettuce either." She waved
a finger over the bread. "Just put ham and a slice of cheese on plain
bread. Do you have white bread?"

"No."

Nellie sighed.
"Well, he's probably pretty hungry by now. Cheese, ham and bread with the
crust cut off will be fine. But you can put the pickles on the side."

"You said
he doesn't eat pickles."

"He
doesn't like soggy sandwiches, and pickles make the bread soggy. Look, let me
do this. I know what he likes."

"Umm,"
Will hummed, his tone indicating displeasure as he handed Nellie the knife.

"We
appreciate this," Nellie said, sensing negative vibes about Mike's eating
habits. She admitted, Mike was a little spoiled, but he'd suffered so much
after the accident, and she'd been so afraid of losing him too, that during his
recovery she'd hovered over him day and night. And once home from the hospital,
she'd jumped to his every whim. But as soon as they were settled again, she'd
be more forceful and less tolerant when the occasion warranted.

She brought
Mike his sandwich and remained with him while they ate. But afterwards, when Will
joined them on deck, she approached him again about cleaning the
Isadora
, asking about a store where she
could buy cleaning supplies. Will begrudgingly loaned her a mop, a broom, a
scrub brush, a bottle of ammonia, and a bucket of warm water with a sponge
bobbing on the surface. He explained he was doing work on the engine and Mike
must not disturb any of his tools on deck.

Maneuvering
between rags and tools, Nellie, followed by Mike with Katy under his arm,
stepped into the salon. A musty aroma filled the compartment. She gazed around,
trying to come to terms with the neglected state of the once-glorious vessel.
The worn carpet was blotched with
stains,
there was
mildew on the faded curtains and upholstered furniture, and woodwork that once
gleamed with a soft natural patina was scratched and badly in need of
refinishing.

Mike released
Katy and the little dog scurried off, nose to the floor, tail wagging with
excitement as she darted in figure-eight patterns while tracking odors, until
Nellie stepped back, tripping over Katy and sending water sloshing over the
edge of the bucket.

"Katy!"
she yelped. Katy lowered her tail and peered up at Nellie. "I'm
sorry," Nellie said, holding Katy's black-eyed stare. "Mike, lock her
in that compartment." She pointed to a door to what she remembered as a
cabin with two berths.

"Fo'c'sle,"
Will's voice came from behind.

"What?"
Nellie looked around to find Will peering into the compartment.

"Fo'c'sle,"
he repeated. "The compartment below the forward deck's the fo'c'sle. You
might as well learn proper nautical terms if you're going to eventually live on
the boat."

"What do
you mean eventually?" Nellie said
,
irritated that
the man not only emphasized the word eventually, but he refused to concede that
this was her boat, and she had a right to live on it. "We're staying right
now," she said, "unless, of course, you can come up with eviction
papers or a written contract signed by my uncle. So I suggest you find another
boat."

Will peered
down at her. "And unless you can come up with three-thousand,
three-hundred and sixty dollars, I can foreclose and force you to sell to pay
the back rent."

"And I
know something about due process!" Nellie snapped. Reaching into her
purse, she withdrew her checkbook, scribbled out a check, ripped it from the
checkbook and snapped out her hand. "Here's a check for one hundred
dollars. You can't foreclose as long as I'm making an effort, in good faith, to
pay." Nellie noted the resolute set to Will's jaw as he drew in a long
breath through flared nostrils. But she refused to let him bully her. And she
had every intention of remaining on the boat, as planned.

"That
doesn't pay for the time I put in making repairs," Will said, refusing the
money. "And I can find a dozen people around here who'll confirm my
agreement with your uncle. So even if you do pay the rent, I'll still be using
the
Isadora
for the next two months,
exclusively."

"And let
me remind you that I have title, and if you leave with my boat, I'll have you
arrested for grand theft!" Nellie said, her voice rising.

Will folded his
arms to keep from reaching out and shaking the stubborn impossible woman.
Nellie Reid and her son were a complication he didn't need. But once alone at
sea with the whales, this whole untimely episode in his life would be
forgotten...

"Now, if
you'll excuse me," Nellie said, glaring at him, "I want to clean up
the boat, figure out a way to cook meals in this mess, and settle my son and
myself into our quarters. Beyond those simple needs, I refuse to dwell."
Turning her back to him, she grabbed the sponge bobbing on the surface of the
water and started wiping down the table.

Mumbling a
string of expletives under his breath, Will turned abruptly and left.

Nellie hoped
things would somehow resolve themselves in the light of a new day, but she soon
realized how wrong she was. While crouched on her knees on the floor of the
salon, with a scrub brush in her hand, she peered up at Will and listened while
he made another attempt to convince her to leave. "Look, if my apartment
wasn't leased for the next two months," he said, in a conciliatory tone,
"I'd let you stay there."

"That's
not the point," Nellie replied, in a crisp dry tone. "This boat is
our home."

"Legally,
yes, but technically, no."

Nellie glared
at him. "You're being unjust and insensitive."

"Unjust and insensitive!"
Drawing in a long breath, Will said, "I know you're in a tight spot, but
so am I. Can't you at least be reasonable?"

"Yes, I
can be reasonable.
But uprooting my son
again is not a reasonable alternative!"
Nellie gripped the scrub brush
and began vigorously attacking a soiled area of the carpet. She had enough to
do trying to clean the place and bring it up to bare living standards without
Will Edenshaw breathing fire down her back about finding a place to live during
his whale study. "I don't see why you can't simply find another
boat," she said, nettled.

"It's not
that simple," Will parried. "I've built supply boxes to fit on deck,
I've installed special sonar devices, and I have equipment due to arrive any
day that’s been customized for this boat. And since I'm committed to completing
the whale study, I have to get up to Johnstone Strait while the salmon are
running and there's a large population of orca around. Even if I could find
another boat, there's no way I could get it ready in time. As it is, this one
still needs lots of work, scraping, sanding, varnishing, painting, having the
cushions reupholstered."

Nellie saw the
desperate look on Will's face. He was in a bind, just as she was. And she did
owe him over three thousand dollars, money he wasn’t pressing her to pay at the
moment. "I'm sorry this had to happen," she said, in a more
mollifying tone. "I just don't know what to do about it. I don’t have
enough money for temporary housing, and what little money I have will probably
have to go to an expensive repair on my car." A disturbing thought she
didn't even want to consider at the moment. She glanced around at the flaked
and bubbled varnish on the wooden lockers and doors, and as she studied the
shabby surfaces, an idea began to emerge.

Painting and
varnishing? Of course! She'd spent hours doing just that when she and Richard
bought the old house. "Maybe I could do some of the work in exchange for
paying off part of the rent," she suggested. "I've done lots of
painting and varnishing. That way, you could keep working on whatever you're
working on below, while I work up here." It would also give Mike something
to do, and a little pocket money to keep him enthusiastic about doing it, just
as she'd done with him at home...

Will gave her a
dubious look. "You couldn’t get much done with a boy to watch."

"Mike
wouldn't be any trouble. He'd be working too," Nellie assured him, sensing
that Will Edenshaw had little patience with kids, realizing she'd have to keep
Mike out of his way. "The way I see it, since you owed the work to my
uncle for the use of the boat, you really owe it to me now that it's mine. So
if my son and I refinish the woodwork and scrape the outside and paint
it—" she paused and looked at him quizzically, and said, "Who's been
paying for the materials?"

"Your
uncle set up an account, but it didn't cover all the expenses," Will
explained. "I've had to pick up the slack. But I have everything I need
now."

"Good.
Then if Mike and I do the work, we should be able to take off at least two
month's back rent," Nellie said quickly, not wanting to give Will a chance
to turn down her proposal. It was a very workable solution to their dilemma.
"I assume I wouldn't have to pay rent as long as we're doing your work,
since technically you'd still have the use of the boat."

She
contemplated her resourceful idea. If she didn't have to pay rent on the
boathouse while working on the boat, that savings, added to the back rent she'd
be working off, would represent more than she'd make at a job. So in essence,
she'd earn over two thousand dollars for a few weeks work. And possibly some of
the interior work could be completed while they were at sea. More important,
she and Mike would be working together on their new home, which would give Mike
a sense of belonging while developing in him a love for the
Isadora
. However, while they were
docked, she'd look for a job for when they returned from Will's whale study.

Will crouched
in front of her. "You say you've painted some?"

Nellie peered
into a pair of compelling brown eyes. Will Edenshaw's gaze stirred something
inside her, something she hadn't felt since
Richard.
But as she looked at him, she also saw the face of a man who rarely smiled—the
corners of his mouth turned down, and there were frown lines between his brows
and worry lines at the corners of his eyes. His was a sad face, and she
wondered why...

Blinking
several times to redirect her thoughts, she replied, "Yes, I've painted
quite a bit. I've also done upholstering. If you rent a heavy-duty sewing
machine I could reupholster all the cushions, including the dinette seats. And
I could also make curtains," she added, unsettled by their nearness. It
had been a long time since she'd been so close to a man. Actually eye-to-eye
and no more than a couple feet apart. Kissing distance.

She mopped her
hand across her forehead to shove her hair back, leaving a chain of soap
bubbles there. Will trailed a finger across her brow, catching the bubbles
before they rolled into her eyes, as he said, "I'm not interested in new
curtains."

Nellie could
still feel the path of Will's finger on her skin, and with his gesture, she
realized how much she'd missed the touch of a man's hand. "But I am
interested in curtains since we’ll be living on it and...." her words
trailed off as she contemplated what incredibly haunting eyes Will had, intense
brown eyes that seemed to hold her captive, at least for the moment.

Will smiled
then, a sort of crooked little twist that tipped up at one corner and laid flat
at the other. An appealing smile, really. One she'd like to see more often. "An
endless list of talents, it seems," he said, holding her gaze. "If
you did all that, I suppose I could cut off another half month's rent for
curtains and reupholstering."

They at last
had a plan! Nellie felt like throwing her arms around Will's neck and kissing
him. And she'd be going to sea once again on the
Isadora
. She'd never expected to be able to do that so soon. She
knew she and Mike would eventually, but for the moment all she wanted was a
place to live. But now, she and Mike would have a kind of vacation cruise
before school started. And there would be little in the way of expenses while
they were gone. Then, as soon as they returned from Will's whale study, she'd
find a less expensive place to moor the
Isadora
so she could finish making payments on the balance of the rent...