The Gulf of Love

The Gulf of Love

Book 2

Editor: Jerry W.

For David

Prologue:

The Gulf of Mexico was the perfect place for Clay Olson and Ivan Aleksa to finish growing up. Uprooted from the only home he knew, it didn't take Clay long to realize, in spite of losing his lifetime friends, he'd ended up in paradice, and he was going to make the most of it.

Ivan, content in the house his grandfather built on the beach, never intends to leave, but does, when his brother is lost. When Clay tells Ivan, 'You're the only one who can find him.' The Gulf of Love becomes embroiled in a tale of Clay, earning his stripes as a marine biologist, while Ivan searches for Boris.

Love is never easy and rarely simple. In this case it strains love to the braking point as our two heroes are in different places doing what they're desitened to do.

Clay has his family, Sunshine, and Dylan to sustain him while he waits for Ivan. For the most part Ivan is on his own and doing his best to gather enough information to make the trip to Southeast Asia advisable, but a trip into a war zone is never advisable, especially when you're on your own.

Clay waits. Ivan searches. Dylan grows, while Harry juggles his interests to get the outcome he wants for his budding marine biologist, never knowing if it will turn out OK in the end.

Dylan, Pop, and Me

I pulled into my parking space in front of the biology lab at the conservancy. Before my Wednesday afternoon dive I dropped Dylan off at Pop's shop. The afternoon visits with his grandfather were something he enjoyed. It was a nice change of pace after spending the day in school.

The scheduling gave Mama a break. With Dylan burning off some of his stored energy at the conservancy, she could prepare dinner without distractions. Mama loved having Dylan around but she wanted to give him her full time and attention when he was.

Pop's day was winding down when Dylan got out of school and my son was fascinated by my biology lab. Once he ran out of things to do in there, he went to help Pop.

Harry called my son, “A chip off the old block.”

There were plenty of chores to keep Dylan out of Pop's hair while I went diving. Pop's schedule wasn't as hectic as it once was before his heart attack two years before.

The conservancy hired Pop two full time employees. Extra trucks were purchased for beach duty and errands. Pop was responsible for the two employees and mostly supervised them, while taking care of the routine things at the conservancy himself.

Pop was bought a new truck for his use only.

Once back on his feet, Pop came back better than ever. The conservancy was smart enough to make John Olson's employment easier on him. They'd stepped up to make it possible for him to stay on the job at a time when he worried about being put out to pasture.

Pop and I had found a home at the conservancy and it had become like family by 1978.

I was as comfortable there as I was anywhere.

*****

Dylan didn't require much supervision. He liked to read. He jumped at the chance to help in the lab. I thought he was more focused than the average nine year old, but I'm sure all fathers felt that way about their sons.

While Dylan helped at the conservancy, Mama was doing her magic with the evening meal. When Dylan was home, he wanted to be outside in the Gulf after school. Mama didn't allow him to go swimming unless she sat on the beach in her outrageously big hat and giant round sunglasses to keep an eye on her grandson.

Mama did not swim.

Dylan, on the other hand, was a better swimmer than I was. Mama still babied Dylan and you didn't argue with Mama. They both enjoyed this aspect of their relationship. Dylan never knew his mama, so my mama and Lucy provided him with mothering. They spoiled him but in a good way.

Dylan had begun to ask questions about his origins when he was five. I told him it was complicated. If I addressed the question he asked at the time, he stopped there. He settled for what I told him and I told him no more than necessary. I wouldn't lie to him but by nine he'd put the pieces together.

Growing up had become complicated in the 60s. Vietnam meant you needed to live fast because you might not live long. It wasn't most young men's idea of a good time, but our government insisted we face death before we'd begun to live.

My number never came up and then I had a wife and a son. My best friends brother had gone missing in Vietnam. Dylan was going to have better choices. I'd see to it. I wasn't raising cannon fodder, even if there was a reason he should consider being put in harms way.

My generation was forced to grow up fast and I wanted my son to stay a boy for as long as he wanted. Dylan wouldn't need to grow up until he decided it was time. Then he'd do it on his own terms. There were plenty of Olsons who intended that Dylan had it his way and he took the time to be the best he could be.

*****

Taking Dylan to Pop's shop after school turned out to be good for both of them and Mama too. No one wanted to distract Mama while she cooked dinner. There was plenty to keep Dylan occupied at the conservancy. He was given responsibilities and he had plenty of time with his grandfather. Pop was the only one who could keep up with Dylan's mechanical brain.

Pop loved having him under foot and if he had to go out and couldn't take Dylan, he got the broom and had him sweep up. There was plenty of sand to go around with a beach out the front door. Before Dylan agreed to sweep, he'd opt to come to my lab to see what was new in my world. We kept him busy.

There were more houses, more visitors, and more beach to keep clean in 1978. There were still arguments over who would patrol the nude beach to keep an eye on the sunbathers. Each time one of Pop's employees left, the remaining man became aware of the nude beach if he wasn't the one patrolling it. Once the discovery was made, the senior employee didn't want the other fellow on his beach.

*****

Before Dylan got out of the car, he waited for his Wednesday instructions from his father. With his hand on the door handle he only half turned his head to see me, as he waited.

“On my desk, Dylan, are the compass readings for today's dive. I need you to give those to Grand Pop. I've laid out the labels for the new specimens. You can make the labels for the jars. You've got the best handwriting in the crew. That will get me up to date if you do that.”

“No, I don't. Aunt Lucy's is way better than mine. Have you seen her handwriting, Daddy?”

“Yes, but Aunt Lucy isn't here and you are,” I said. “We'll have to settle for you today, kiddo. Your handwriting is quite good and way better than mine.”

“Any filing, Daddy?” Dylan asked, sitting low in his seat.

He appeared to be looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes, on the corner of my desk. You can file those. That will be a big help,” I said. “I never seem to get around to putting things back where they came from.”

“OK. Anything else?”

“No. You have books. I assume you'll do your homework. It's the first thing Grand Mama will ask you about when we get home.”

“I know,” Dylan sighed. “I'll do it after I do the labels and filing.”

“You go ahead. I need to talk to Grand Pop before I leave for the marina. You come to his shop when you're done.”

Dylan opened the door and was gone in a flash. He slipped through the front doors of the biology lab and disappeared.

I smiled feeling good about myself and my life. Dylan made it far more enjoyable than it would be otherwise. As hard as it was on me when he was first born, I wouldn't change a thing.

I had to be there in order to get here.

“Hey, Pop. I brought Dylan. He's at the lab right now. I'm going to the marina. I should be back before you leave for the day, but don't wait for me. Take Dylan with you when you go home if I haven't made it back.”

“You ask him about his science project?” Pop asked.

“No, I forgot about it. You're way handier than me. Can you give him a few hints if he asks?”

“You're plenty handy when you want to do something, Clay. I'll see where he's at. Your mother will worry herself sick over that boy's lessons. You know how she is about his homework. You'd never know we had six kids before Dylan came along.”

“Yes, I know how Mama is. He's going to get it done in his own time, just like I did.”

“It's what I keep telling her,” Pop said.

“You're the only one who has a chance of figuring out what his science project is about. He lost me when he explained what he intended to do. I smiled and thought I should be impressed. Dylan's smarter than Mama and me put together,” I said, not checking the door before speaking.

“I am not,” Dylan said, plopping down in the chair beside his grandfather's desk.

“Don't argue with your father,” I said.

“Yes, sir. Mama knows way more than I know. When do I get to go diving with you anyway, Daddy? I want to go with you.”

“She's your grand mama and my mama, Dylan,” I explained for the umpteenth time.

“I know,” he said, not using the grand word for Mama or Pop, no matter how many times I used it. They were Mama and Pop to him.

“We have the discussion about diving at least once a week. You can go with me today and we'll snorkel for an hour if you want. I need to make a dive to check on the reef I'm studying. You'll need to wait in the boat until I'm done with my work and then you'll still have your homework to do once we get home.”

“No, I want to dive with you, Daddy. I want to study the reef with you.”

“What's the rule about you diving with me?”

“When I'm ten or when my head reaches the line on the doorjamb in your office,” he said, having it memorized.

“When's the last time you measured yourself against the line?”

“Two and a half minutes ago.”

“How much growing do you need to do?”

“Four inches and a smidgen.”

“How old are you?” I asked, causing him to squirm.

“Ten,” he said, fudging by most of a year.

“How old?” I asked. “I recall you having a birthday a few months back, and you weren't ten then. Remember the cake with nine candles and the Rocky Road ice cream?”

“Nine, but I'm in my tenth year,” he said unhappily, looking for some kind of wiggle room.

“You'll be ten next July. Unless you get a sudden growth spurt in the next year, you've got a while before you go diving with me.”

“Aw, Daddy!”

“It's a matter of safety. The equipment isn't suited for someone your size, Dylan. You don't get second chances if things go wrong while you're underwater, son. You need to be big enough to manage the equipment and smart enough to know when it's time to split.”

“I know. I know,” Dylan said exasperated.

Pop sat with a file and some papers in front of him. I could see the tiny smile appear on his face as he listened to me and my son.

“You're grandfather will help with your science project if you need advice,” I said.

“Yeah, kiddo, we can talk it over and I'll tell you what I think,” Pop said. “Maybe I'll have an idea or two for you.”

“Cool,” Dylan said, his mood brightening a bit.

“Did you bring the paper with the compass readings on it?” I asked.

Dylan dug into his shirt pocket and handed the paper to Pop.

“That's where Daddy is diving today,” Dylan explained to Pop.

“It's the same site I've been diving. I wrote it down in case Bill Payne drops by. He's been there but give him that to refresh his memory. He might decide he wants to dive with me.”

“Bill Payne? Haven't seen him in a coon's age. I didn't know you still saw him,” Pop said. “You finished college years ago.”

“He called last week. Told me he'd be on the island today. He might drop by to see what's shaking in the lab. He mentioned we hadn't done a dive in a while. He likes to look in on his marine biologists to see what they're up to,” I said. “He's working on the Atlantic side these days, keeping an eye on the Gulf Stream. Monitoring the flow and temperature. He expects to see some sign of change there if the pollution continues to rise at the current pace.”

“Way beyond my pay grade. I pick up the trash. You boys got to figure out how to keep the water clean. Wouldn't want that job.”

“He told me ten years ago that things had begun to be impacted by man's presence in the Gulf. We worried about over fishing back then. The clarity and color of the water is definitely deteriorating. It took until 1975 for the changes to become apparent. It's just how he said it would happen. He seems to think the Gulf Stream is the key to what the pollution will mean to waterways.”

“Better hope Harry doesn't see him first. He'll talk his leg off,” Pop said. “Being reelected congressman certainly agrees with the man.”

“Harry's here? I should say hello before I go. He's been gone for the past month,” I said. “He usually lets me know when he's going to be home.”

“He came in just before lunch. He's home for the weekend. Needs to schmooze with his campaign workers and donors. He asked about you when he dropped by while you were out. I told him you'd gone to Fort Myers to talk to donors about the lab. That got a smile out of him. The man likes the sound of money coming in.”

“It went well. They want the Gulf kept clean. They all fish and a couple have been diving. Most of their businesses depend on tourism. They need to talk to Harry. He knows how to get the big bucks for the cause. They were quite interested in the hands on approach we've taken at the conservancy.”

“You've certainly earned your keep, Clay. If anyone knows what's going on in the Gulf, you do,” Pop said. “You learned your lessons well, son.”

Pop didn't fish or dive. He rarely went into the water if it wasn't a holiday, but he paid attention to what was going on at the conservancy. His livelihood depended on it.

*****

I left Dylan and Pop to share the rest of the afternoon together. I headed for Harry's office to touch base with him before my dive. We hadn't talked since his campaign for reelection went into high gear.

My history with Harry ran through my mind as I went from one side of the conservancy to the other, saying hello as I passed through the main office.

Harry was the first to recognize that my interest in sea creatures could go beyond being a hobby. Since my interests merged with his, he was immediately working on the idea that by training his own marine biologist, he could bring the conservancy into prominence in the field, while the Gulf was still relatively healthy.

Harry went to school with Bill Payne and they'd remained friends. From Bill, Harry was kept up to date on the conditions in the Gulf. By the time Bill was certain that pollution was going to ruin the Gulf, I came along and Harry decided to take me under his wing while I was still young, and he'd point me where he wanted me to go.

Like so many people who spent a lot of time on the Gulf of Mexico, the subtle changes disturbed Harry. Without a healthy body of water surrounding Sanibel Island, its value decreased remarkably. If Sanibel Island could be changed by pollution, Florida was at risk.

The growing tourist industry and the increasing population on the island was growing faster than resources were capable of handling. To keep the island viable the Gulf had to stay clean and healthy. Harry's conservancy would lead the effort.

Saying we could save the Gulf of Mexico got my attention. Save it from what? I was nothing but a kid but the Gulf was at the center of my life since I arrived in Florida. It looked fine to me. Mainly I liked to look at things that came out of the Gulf, but being a boy, it didn't take much flattery to excite me about saving a body of water that I didn't know needed saving.

Harry put his money where his mouth was. It's how he got me to see that my future was at the same place Pop's was, when he first brought us all to Florida. I was the fourth Olson to work at the conservancy but the first who was interested in the Gulf.

This Olson was selected to go directly to the head of the class.

Without Harry's insight I'd have been a ship with no wind in its sails, once out of high school. I didn't have many options, but at the time I met Harry, they all involved the Gulf of Mexico.

His interest started with Pop talking about my fascination with sea creatures.

Because of this, I was on my way to becoming a marine biologist before I graduated from high school. He recognized the conservancy, he, would be the biggest beneficiary if I was educated properly.

Our mutual interests met at the water's edge. While he was away making legislative progress to preserve our environment, I was learning what I needed to know to join the fight with him and my chief instructor, Bill Payne.

I began my studies with Bill, who introduced me to the underwater world that was where the battle started. A few months later I was taking classes in Fort Myers to secure the credits I'd need for my degree.

I was still going to high school and fishing for Mr. Aleksa at the time I met Harry, but once I went on my first dive, I came a world closer to the intriguing sea creatures I wanted to find out about.

A few months after graduating from high school, I was weaning myself off the Vilnius Two. That fishing boat had taken me a step too far from the turn I was making into marine biology. I found myself trading one love for another, and both connected me to the sea.

As if to prove things happen for a reason, and to make me feel less guilty for leaving Mr. Aleksa's employ, the Vilnius Two, Mr. Aleksa, Kenny and Arturo, sailed out of the cove one day and didn't return. Had I still been fishing for him, I wouldn't have gone.

I had college and my work at the conservancy to occupy me. Each time I went diving with Bill Payne, Harry, or alone, I walked past the empty slip where the Vilnius Two once docked. Up until I went diving the first time, the slip for the Vilnius Two was as far as I went down that dock.

The slip stayed empty because of Captain Popov. He wouldn't allow another boat in Mr. Aleksa's slip.

The boat I used was docked farther down the dock and it belonged to the conservancy, Harry. The boat would change over the years, but not the slip. Harry rented one of the largest slips, because his father had rented it when Harry was a boy.

No matter how far I went over the years, the empty slip gave me a tremendous feeling of loss. I'd learned so much on that missing boat and I'd learned so much from Ivan's father. He encouraged my curiosity over the sea creatures that fell out of his nets. He even insisted they not be harmed and returned to the sea once I was finished looking one over.

I had a career, because as Ivan's best friend, his father allowed me to work on his boat beside his son. Before that my view of the Gulf came from the shoreline between my house and Ivan's.

Had Harry not come along when he did, I'd have been left high and dry in more ways than one, after Boris was lost. I felt as though I was preordained, starting with the worst moment of my life, when I left Tulsa at fourteen. The friends I knew all my life were left behind.

I hated Florida until I walked out the backdoor of the conservancy house for the first time and saw the Gulf of Mexico. My tragic uprooting became a faint memory as I considered the possibilities of my new life in what seemed like paradise.

Then I met Ivan and I saw him fly. My life would never be the same again. I'd never had a friend until I met Ivan. We became inseparable and life was good.

One step at a time I was led to the Gulf, onto the Gulf, and then under the Gulf. Each step had a greater grip on me than the last. This was where I wanted to be. The Gulf was the doorway to my future.

Ivan had gone in search of his brother and the Gulf was what kept me going while he was gone. There's no way to describe my emptiness without him beside me, but my work has helped me pass the time while I wait.

My entire being was invested in this place now. Even if Ivan asked me to go with him, I couldn't go. There were things I needed to do and then there was a wife and son that weren't planned but came along anyway.

I did see how this sequence of events could just happen to me. It was if I was on a road and I wasn't going to get off. These were the things that came about as I continued down the road.

It couldn't simply be an accident. Was Mama's God making sure I got to where I was going? I hardly thought so. He'd only caused me grief over the years. He was Mama's God and so I played along.

The summer I turned eighteen everything in my life changed. The family I'd withdrawn from took center stage. The Aleksas, who had so much influence on me for so long, all but disappeared from my life. It all took place over a few months.

It took one visit by two United States Army soldiers to Boris' Tampa residence to rock the world in which I lived, but that was nothing compared to what it did to the Aleksas. A family already under stress, was torn apart by the news the soldiers brought.

Ivan would never be the same. There was little I could do for him but watch and continue to love him. Ivan was at the center of my life even when he was absent from it. Dylan had taken much of the time I'd have spent with Ivan, after entering our lives early one July morning in 1969.

He was a gift that eased my aching heart.

He was proof that everything happens for a reason. Had it not been for my son, I'd have worried myself to death over Ivan by now, but there was little time for worry once Dylan arrived.

Being completely responsible for another human being had a way of taking your mind off your troubles, and Mama made it clear, 'You made your bed, young man. Now you get to lie in it.'

Mama took care of Dylan when I couldn't at first, but when I could, she insisted I did. Along with sister Lucy, Dylan got more care and love than the law allows one tiny little guy.

The thing I learned as a young father, babies are messy suckers. There was no faster way to grow up than to become responsible for another human being.

Dylan kept my mind off Ivan and the conservancy kept me from losing sight of where I intended to go. The focus of my life shifted from fishing on Gulf waters to diving into them. I had a job at the conservancy and in my spare time I was discovering what the biology lab could do.

Worrying about something I could do nothing about wasn't wise, but I couldn't be whole until Ivan came home. I could take care of my family and career in the meantime. I couldn't see the value in what I'd learned fishing but Harry did.

Harry saw the future when I could hardly keep up with the present. He recognized my raw potential and its value in his quest for a clean and healthy Gulf of Mexico.

I was an Olson. That didn't hurt. He'd heard about me from Pop long before he met me. I was young. Harry's ideas hadn't coalesced yet. We'd have to meet before Harry knew what he wanted to do. The best thing about it, his plan benefited both of us.

Once we talked and he could feel my passion for what he was passionate about, he knew where I fit into his plan. I'd be the marine biologist in his biology lab. I'd study the sea creatures and the waters they lived in, and the Sanibel Island Conservancy would take center stage as custodian of the Gulf of Mexico. This is where he was going and he intended to take me with him.

Harry introduced me to Bill Payne, college professor, renowned marine biologist, and recently an environmental activist. Bill would teach me everything I needed to know to be a first class marine biologist. He'd instill in me the consequences of inaction concerning the affects of pollution on the environment and the Gulf waters.

Starting me early, they were convinced by the time they needed me to be the point man for the conservancy, I'd be educated and ready to take the lead at the conservancy. I'd take our case for the Gulf to the legislature so they could counteract the ability of the polluters to pollute.

It wasn't put to me in those terms but this was the program I was in. From the start I was introduced to an in-depth understanding of the science of the sea. Bill Payne became my primary professor for marine biology. When he taught me, he gave me his undivided attention. He knew where I was going before I did.

After the handful of students Bill taught each semester went home, Bill stayed with me in the conservancy lab and we went over information the other students didn't get. Bill was educating me to see the world as he saw it. No amount of time was too much to give to save the Gulf.

While I was having fun learning what Bill was teaching me, and feeling good about it, my two mentors were educating me in a way that would pay off once the chips were down.

As my career gave me great satisfaction, each time I went to see Harry, I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. I was about to walk into the home office of sitting U.S. Congressman Harry McCallister.

He'd stand and meet me half way to his desk to give me a hug and he'd want to know how I was.

Truly he wanted to know. The man cared about me.

My life could have been a dream, except for the absence of the man I loved.

Chapter 2

Harry & Me

I stooped at Harry's door, knocked twice, and I stuck my head inside.

“Clayton, come in, come in,” Harry said, meeting me halfway to his desk for a hello hug. “Tell me everything I need to know and what you're up to. I've got ten minutes.”

We both laughed. Harry was a busy man as a six time elected congressman from our district.

“I'm about to go diving. Dad said you'd come in. Congratulations on being reelected, Mr. Congressman.”

“For the sixth time,” he reminded me. “We do have a wise electorate.”

“People aren't as stupid as they appear to be close up,” I mused.

“Not if they vote for me they aren't. I do my best to make your suspicion about politicians inaccurate where I'm concerned. I know much of the electorate doesn't trust their government. It's easy to understand once you see our legislators in action.”

“Boggle the mind, do they, Harry?”

“They do,” he said. “You boggle my mind, Clayton Olson. I keep looking for the little boy who came to work for me... how long ago? I don't even remember how long it's been. You are a handsome man, Clay. You've come a long way.”

“Not much I had to do with it. I just showed up and here I am. Time has a way of moving you along.”

“Yes, you are, and I'm proud of it.”

“How is Washington?”

“One would think some of those fellows purposely set out to disillusion voters. What is gained by men running the government trying to convince John Q. Public the government doesn't work? If they believe that, why don't they go into farming or sell used cars?”

“Wouldn't you characterize that as work. Those birds don't do anything that might take the luster off the manicures, Harry.”

“Ouch! You're a tough man, Mr. Olson. I've seen at least two congressman break a sweat in my career. It was at election time.”

“I say what I see. I don't see much. Work is something they want someone else to do. When they see someone not working, they complain,” I said. “We can't have that. Everyone needs to work.”

“To tell the truth, I see what they're doing but I can't figure what's to gain by obstructing progress. It defies logic. I suppose I shouldn't put so much stock in logic. I do my best to make things better if I can. I work at it the way they work at obstructing things.”

“If you say so, Harry. I'll take your word for it. I'm not impressed by the intellect of the people who stand for election. Present company excluded. They don't represent the average working stiff.”

“Does make one wonder how they keep getting elected,” Harry said. “The working stiff might not be paying attention.”

“I wouldn't be off base saying my government leaves something to be desired?” I asked.

“I wouldn't go that far, Clay. There are still some good legislators on The Hill, people who are there to do the peoples' business. The newest members don't seem that interested in the people.”

“I vote for you because I know you're making an effort. Otherwise, our government is far too involved in the rest of the world and not involved enough with what's going on here at home. If we let other countries take care of their own business, they'll figure out what's best for them. Just the way we did it.”

“You do have a way of cutting to the chase. I'm trying to get legislation passed to protect the environment, make corporations responsible for cleaning up after themselves. There's a lot of resistance to this idea. Once again we come back to logic and what is best for the American people.”

“I won't hold my breath, congressman. I appreciate your effort. Using common sense to reason with people who have none is futile. Their positions don't come from concern for the people.”

“How would you like to bring some of that passion to Washington, Mr. Olson? I think you'd make an excellent witness in front of the Environmental Committee.”

“I was in Washington once. I went to oppose our government's war on the Vietnamese people. As pretty as the city is, it disturbed me that the men who made that city, risking their lives creating this nation, would be appalled by men who pose as leadership today.”

“You're coming up on your annual appearance in Tallahassee. Can I read your testimony into the congressional record if I can't talk you into appearing? It would help illuminate my arguments. I get the Gulf of Mexico on the record as often as I can. I read Bill Payne's testimony into the congressional record a couple of times. Adding you to the record can't hurt.”

“Harry, whatever you need me to do, I'll do it for you. I don't have to like everything I do. My life is incredibly good because of you. Helping you help me to preserve the Gulf sounds self serving to me. You tell me when, I'll be there.”

“I'm still chairman of the Environmental Committee. Everything I do gets more scrutiny. It takes time to get into a position where you can get things done. The more ammunition I have the better my chances of having a good outcome.”

“You do what you need to do, Harry. I'll do my job and if my testimony helps, I'll come to Washington. I won't say I'll look forward to the experience,” I said.

“Your friend? Ivan isn't it? I wonder about him all the time,” Harry said. “He having any success finding his brother? That's such a sad story. It's the kind of thing I'd like to get closer to.”

“I wish I knew. I haven't seen him in years, Harry. It might mean he's onto something. I just don't know,” I said sadly. “He calls. He's over there, you know.”

“I'd like to do more for him. I don't know who he's talking to or what they might be telling him. I'd hate to cause him trouble. Anyone I talk to might not be in the loop on his brother's case. You know there are things I can't talk about, Clay. I just want you to know, when I heard from Ivan, I did what I could for him. It wasn't enough but I'm unable to go into details. Some of our government works outside the view of congress. Sometimes I think they're on there own.”

“You've mentioned it and Ivan mentioned talking to your office. You once told me that you could tell me what Ivan said but he couldn't tell me what you said,” I reminded him.

“Exactly,” he said. “I could do him more harm than good if I pushed the wrong button. I'm confident I don't know what's going on beyond our shores that I can't read in the Post. We're told what they want us to know.”

“I know. He was OK the last time I heard from him. I do know that he's been told people have seen Boris alive. I can't say how accurate those accounts are. He's been gone so long I can't remember when he told me what, but I believe Ivan is involved with one of our government agencies. I can't prove it but the last time we talked, he indicated he was working for some Americans. He won't tell me what he's doing or for whom. He was caught somewhere he shouldn't have been and they apparently say they can lock him up if he doesn't help them. It sounds like the kind of thing a congressman might want to investigate.”

“Speaking of men who don't represent the people. I better be careful. They might have this place bugged,” Harry said, looking around. “Don't tell anyone else what you're telling me. It's not safe for Ivan. You need to keep this between you and me.”

“Believe me, Harry, I don't say anything to anyone about what Ivan says, except to you. I know your honest even if you can't tell me everything you know.”

I laughed uneasily, knowing how precarious Ivan's position was. Harry smiled.

“What I know about secret agencies makes me think they're dangerous, Clay. They have no oversight. They seem to operate under the radar, doing whatever they decide to do.”

“He can't let go of it and he says they'll give him what they have on Boris, after he's done what he's been told to do. I'm supportive. I don't express my doubts. Would a person who is representing one of our government agencies lie to a voter, Harry?”

“I can make inquiries. A congressman's inquiry makes waves. It can have an impact that isn't intended. It's why I hesitate in matters such as this. I don't know who he's talking to and if I knew, I couldn't tell you.”

“I understand. I don't know what you could do. He's been at this for ten years. He thinks he's talking to reliable folks. I don't know how much longer he can keep going.”

“We can go that way as a last resort. Tell him I said that when you do talk to him. His family has been through hell. If all else fails I'll poke around in the high grass a bit,” Harry said.

“I'll be sure to mention it when he calls,” I said. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Ivan was such a nice boy. His father was an asset to this community. Close to your dad, I recall. Just sailed off one day.”

“Pop misses Mr. Aleksa. He doesn't care for most men. They became friends right off. Mr. Aleksa is a naturalized citizen. He's not too happy with America at present. Captain Popov said he's been fishing Chili's waters. He says he's well.”

“Keep me up to date on this stuff. We might come to a point when I can make some discrete inquiries. I wouldn't mind knowing who has their hooks in Ivan,” he said.

“Whoever it is, it's how he gets access to Southeast Asia. He keeps saying he's close. I wish I knew, Harry. I surely do. I never thought he could get into Southeast Asia.”

“Sounds typical. It's the way the game is played, Clay. You give us what we want and we'll make sure you get what you're after, but not right away.”

“Anyway, Ivan is OK. He was in Thailand the last time he got a call through to me. Communication isn't very dependable from over there. He says Southeast Asia is a mess but that makes it possible for him to move around without being noticed.”

“Sounds like he knows what he's talking about,” Harry said.

“Well, I'm ready for Tallahassee. It's not more than a couple of days of inconvenience if I stay overnight. As time goes on the Environmental Committee has become more friendly to me. There was quite a bit of tension my first few times in front of them,” I said.

Harry chuckled, having a clear memory of the trouble I got into on my first appearance in front of the state's environmental committee. I was sure Harry would fire me as a result but he was still laughing about Lucy and me taking no prisoners.

“You taking Lucy this time? They are still talking about her in Tallahassee. I'm waiting for her to run for the state legislature,” Harry said. “Lucy is a handful when she gets her hackles up.”

“She knows what she thinks and she isn't bashful about expressing herself. She's working on her doctorate. She's still teaches at the university. She'll be home for the holidays. Why not come to dinner while she's home? I think Teddy's going to be home too,” I said.

“I'd like that, Clay. It's nice to get away from my crowd when I'm home. It's difficult to relax when everyone wants something from you.”

“You can hide out at our house, Harry,” I said. “Mama loves company, especially over the holidays. You wouldn't go hungry.”

“Tell you what, if I decide to call you to testify on the health of the Gulf of Mexico, I'll give you one of my staff to show you around. I'll make sure you see what interests you without the inconvenience of needing to find your way around. I'll fly you up and back and we'll have at least one dinner together. There are some fine eateries in Washington. They do know how to go first class up there.”

“Call me if you need me, Harry, but I don't want to spend any more time there than necessary. Besides, my work is never done right here. When I go away, it's waiting for me when I get back.”

“Speaking of which, I don't want to hold you up. I know you look forward to your dives. We'll have plenty of time to talk now that the election is over.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” I said.

“Thanks for taking the time to stop by. We go back into session in early December. We've got to get back in time to go on Christmas recess. Always something to do in Washington,” Harry said with a laugh. “Don't quote me.”

“Is that any way to run a government, congressman?” I asked, standing up to leave. “You know where to find me, when I'm not underwater or at the house. By the way, Pop has the compass readings on my dive in case Bill Payne comes by or calls. He mentioned being on the island today. Let me give them to you. He'll probably come see you first. It's where I've been diving for some time. Bill's been there.”

“If he calls or comes by I'll give this to him. We'll do a dive while I'm home for Christmas. I miss sharing that part of your work with you,” Harry said. “I'd like to see your new reef. I've read all about it.”

“You're on,” I said, slipping out of his office before we could work our way onto another topic.

*****

I loaded the SCUBA gear into the trunk of Teddy's 1956 blue and white Bel Air before leaving the house to pick up Dylan at school. I liked diving in the afternoon, when the sun was overhead. This meant stopping at the dive shop to have my tanks refilled before going home, but I was usually back before the dive shop closed.

Being finished at the conservancy, after my meeting with Harry, put me that much closer to being underwater. It was a ten minute drive to the marina. In less than an hour I'd be a world away from Harry. As much as I liked him, I loved to dive.

I'd watched men walking on the moon over the last decade. I didn't think being underwater was that different from being on the moon, and it was a lot closer to the house.

I'd been driving Teddy's car for over ten years. We didn't see Teddy for most of those years, until the year before. That's when President Carter took office. He pardoned Teddy and all draft resisters in an effort to heal the nation that had become split by war.

The war was over now. Eighteen year old boys didn't face the prospect of being sent to die in Vietnam any longer, although they still needed to register for the draft. Our government didn't fool anyone. The draft was but one signature away from being reinstated. The heat was on and they backed off knowing, America didn't want to be too far from a good war.

Even when the draft ended in the early 70s, nothing was done about the men who thought for themselves and refused to go to war. In the media they were called cowards and draft dodgers. Our society was great at shaming and humiliating those who didn't blindly follow along and do what they were told.

We were programmed to obey after all.

There was no talk about the morality of killing people who dared to disagree with the U.S. over how to run their country. We knew how things should be run and our citizens were dying to prove it.

Daft resisters had no access to media. They had no way to promote peace, brotherhood, and understanding. The masters of war owned the media and they intended to keep the draft dodgers on the run. They didn't approve of men who refused to go to war.

I had cause to ponder the list of dead from the Vietnam War, in particular the kids who would have been my age. These were kids who didn't get a life after high school. They'd gone to fight for their country and they died for it. Most were drafted. There were names I knew but didn't investigate.

I had no sorrow over not going or not being willing to go. That didn't mean I didn't have sorrow over the boys who went and didn't come home. Maybe because of Boris, Vietnam was vivid in my mind. Maybe because I wanted to know the reason for the war and the dying, it continued to come to mind as I lived a good life on the beach.

Boris wasn't on the list of the dead. I suppose that should have made me feel better, but it didn't. Ivan had gone in search of his brother, and that meant he wasn't with me.

I wondered if it would be easier on Ivan if Boris had died.

I hated having thoughts like that. It was selfish but I missed Ivan. I wanted to be with him, but he couldn't be with me until he found out what happened to Boris.

It was a hard time to be in love, when you couldn't be with the one you love. Then I thought of the boys who would never be in love. Boys who would be my age now, had they lived.

That was hard time.

Had Boris not gone missing in August of 1968, I'd have forgotten about the war by now. Vietnam would be an ancient memory. With Ivan out there trying to trace Boris' steps after he was wounded, the war was still on.

Pardoning the men who refused to be part of the killing was meant to heal the nation. Using logic, it sounded like an excellent way to bring the country back together. The public hadn't forgotten the divisions that separated the 'America, Love It or Leave It' patriots from the 'Hell know, we won't go,' war protestors.

We waited for the dominoes to fall. We'd left Vietnam in April of 1975. The Vietnamese ran Vietnam now. They weren't our Vietnamese, but they were the people who lived in Vietnam.

We were told the war was about dominoes. The commie hordes were poised to sweep across all of Southeast Asia if not for the Americans blocking their way. Like we'd been poised there for over ten years.

There was a difference between America and the commies. The commies were in eastern Europe and Asia, which was in the vicinity of Vietnam. We lived halfway around the world. We had a long way to go to be in Vietnam, and the reason we were there, dominoes.

If the commies were going to sweep across all of Southeast Asia once we were no longer blocking their path, they were taking their time. Once we'd left, mostly the people of Southeast Asia were in Southeast Asia. They weren't all nice people. They weren't our people, but they were the people who lived there.

In 1978, long after the last Americans left Vietnam, I'd have forgotten about the war if not for Boris. Then there was Teddy's pardon. Men invested in war were opposed to the pardon of men who refused to fight their wars.

Carter's effort to heal the nation became a reason to fight the war all over again. America loved a good fight. Begging someone's pardon, not so much. How do you give a good war if no one will fight?

I had no objections to having Teddy home, but he never truly came home. His life was elsewhere now. He could come for visits and to be with his family, but he had a family of his own, a business, and Teddy worked all the time. Instead of Quebec he was in Orlando.

The FBI had other people to follow now.

Boris didn't come home. He was still lost, an MIA on a list with a thousand names. No one knew where they were. They'd gone to war and never came home. They weren't dead. No one knew if they were alive, which was worse than being dead for their families.

I escaped the war with a student deferment. I had a high draft number and I was told I'd probably never go. When Harry was home, he'd check to be certain everything was in order to keep me out of the draft. Having a congressman in my corner was my ace in the hole.

I felt bad knowing how many kids my age died over there. I didn't feel bad I wasn't one of them. I led a charmed life, even though it was a lonely life. I had my son, my family, and my work.

I'd loved only one person romantically. I didn't see myself falling in love with anyone else. I hadn't given up hope yet but as fast as things changed, there were no guarantees Ivan would come back to me once his search ended.

*****

It took a single trip to get my tanks from the car onto the 36 foot Sea Lab. It was fitted with the latest equipment to make a marine biologist's job a dream come true -- mine anyway.

The boat with the lab built into it was a gift to the conservancy the year before. One of Harry's admirers wanted to ensure the quality of work we did was surpassed by no one.

Mr. Mosby was in favor of preserving the Gulf of Mexico. He lived and worked on the gulf. The idea it might become polluted gave him nightmares. He did what he viewed as necessary to prevent it.

The boat allowed me to go anywhere to see whatever might be found and examine it as easily as if I was in my lab. I could see and preserve a specimen on the spot. It took me one step closer to understanding man's impact on the Gulf of Mexico.

Harry supervised what went into the Sea Lab to make sure that the Sanibel Island Conservancy went to the head of the class when it came to investigating and protecting the waterway that was the primary attraction on Sanibel Island.

We were determined to keep the attraction attractive.

As I dropped my equipment over the side, I felt great pride in the boat that was fitted out with me in mind. The 36 foot scientific sea laboratory replaced the eighteen foot Seaswirl tri-hull, which replaced Harry's classic fourteen foot wooden boat I used on my early dives. The eighteen foot Seaswirl tri-hull was bought the year the fourteen footer needed work, after the the discovery was made that there was more sealant in the hull than wood.

The Seaswirl had been a stable diving platform and we went diving frequently in those days. My education was all about what was under the gulf. The Seaswirl was a good boat with twin 40 Evinrudes for power. It cut slickly through the water. When I was alone, I'd push the throttles all the way forward to satisfy my need for speed.

The Seaswirl was the alternate boat at the conservancy now. It was used at the company picnic to take employees out into the gulf. The fourteen footer had been beautifully restored with an interior of polished mahogany. It was a show boat.

Harry used it to show important people around his kingdom. It was the perfect tool to impress donors who weren't accustomed to being on the water, but when a major donor needed extra convincing about the work we were doing, Harry got them on board the Sea Lab.

*****

Once my gear was loaded, I cast off the lines, moved to the bridge, turned the key, hit the starter button, and listened to the quiet hum. There were two major Detroit diesel marine engines purring twenty feet below the bridge where I controlled them.

I eased away from the slip. My stomach fluttered as I passed the empty slip where the Vilnius Two used to be. I was told Captain Popov paid the slip rent, waiting for Mr. Aleksa's return.

I wasn't as sure about Mr. Aleksa's return. My mind always moved directly from Mr. Aleksa to Ivan. I hadn't heard from him in too long. He'd been close then before he went silent.

It wasn't the first time Ivan said he'd find Boris soon. When he left after Boris went missing, he didn't think he'd be gone long. As he closed in on Boris, the distance between him and me increased.

I understood Ivan had a far rougher road to go down than I did. His love for his brother was immense. His decision to find him, dead or alive, was a far more monumental task than I could have imagined, but Ivan's determination got in the way of reason. He went on because he refused to accept defeat and time was passing.

I told him, 'No matter how long it takes, I'll be here when you come home.'

*****

I knew early on that Ivan was my one true love. I didn't know we'd be separated and I was left to wait for us to get on with our lives together. I didn't want to spend my life waiting. If I intended to be with him, I needed to wait for him.

He came home three or four times a year at first. Then he was coming home twice a year for a couple of years, but he called frequently. Now, if I saw him once a year, it was a lot. Once he reached Southeast Asia, the calls all but stopped.

Waiting wasn't getting any easier but I hadn't come up with an alternative. I told Ivan I'd be here when he came home and I was still here.

*****

Thinking about my origins, and how I got to where I was, came to mind on dive days. Seeing Harry reminded me of the impact he'd had on my life as we,,. The empty slip reminded me of better days when Ivan was home and we were together.

I was pretty good at taking care of business, but while creeping along at the 5 mph posted speed limit, waiting to escape the cove, Ivan inevitably came to mind.

I'd been going in and out of that cove for half my lifetime. The history of my life since arriving in Florida was written there as one boat or another carried me far off shore, starting with Mr. Aleksa's.

*****

It was while snorkeling with my son that I'd found the reef I was diving on now. In the next year I'd take Dylan diving there. At the rate he was growing he'd be big enough for the equipment.

My son loved helping me in the labs and he loved being in the water. He was smart, hated homework, and he swam like a fish. Since diving was my favorite activity, I couldn't wait to introduce Dylan to it. It would be interesting to see how he reacted to being under the gulf. He'd get there way earlier than I did.

The day we discovered this reef, we were in the Seaswirl and heading straight out into the gulf, southwest of the marina. It was hotter than the hinges of hell and the humidity was higher than high. Forsaking the power, speed, and Dylan's joy of watching the rooster tail kick up behind us, I shut it down and we went directly into the water.

We nearly landed on what I'd come to realize was a shipwreck. The top of what is now a reef wasn't that far from the surface. Both Dylan and I marveled at the variety of sea life we observed. Once back on board I wrote down the compass settings and made up my mind that my next dive would be done there. I'd made close to a hundred dives the since we found it.

I suppose most major underwater finds are made in a similar fashion. The only thing on my mind was cooling off and I found the most pristine reef I'd ever sen. It was obvious by its condition, no one knew it was there but me.

It created an opportunity to watch a reef go through its natural cycles without other people disturbing it.

Chapter 3

Surprise! Surprise!

Each of my dives began the same way. I either had my tanks in the trunk of Teddy's 1956 Chevy, or I picked them up from the dive shop, where I left them to be filled. Once at the marina, I carried them down the dock and set them over the side on the deck of the Sea Lab.

Having a reef all to myself meant it wasn't being contaminated in between my dives on it. Too much diving on a reef, or diving done by people without the health and welfare of the reef in mind, disturbed the natural habitat in ways that inevitably caused it to deteriorate.

The natural order prevailed without outside influence. Once people were added to the equation, they became the major influence on a reef. The more people you have, the greater the influence they exerted on everything.

No matter the environment, once people were introduced, the deterioration began. While some people were aware and thoughtful, most wanted to have a good time at the least cost possible. They didn't think about the cost to the environment, and the result was more and more pollution.

Man was as toxic as any mold, virus, or insect.

Humans demanded everything change to accommodate them. It didn't matter how fragile or rare something was, once people arrived, all bets were off. Man came first, last, and always, without exception, especially when there was money to be made.

I wanted to save the Gulf of Mexico for generations to come. As fast as man's influence on the Gulf became evident, I couldn't be sure we got far enough out ahead of the pollution to make a difference.

My life's work may well have been a losing battle.

Anyone could dump anything in the Gulf and no one was any the wiser, but the negative impact had begun to take its toll. There were more and more people. Each wanted access to, and some wanted to profit from, the environment of his choice. The damage done was not a part of any equation when it came to money.

I wasn't certain man could interact with an environment and not leave a mess. Those of us who wanted to preserve what we had were outnumbered by those polluting to make money.

Harry wanted to insist they clean up after themselves but it was a long fight and before he got the Clean Water Act passed as law and signed by the president, the polluters had been at work.

I'd been diving for ten years. It wasn't unusual to bring back several soda bottles, a tire or two, and a couple of pounds of trash. I didn't remember seeing such things when I first began diving.

The Gulf of Mexico was huge. If I was finding people's garbage on every dive, there had to be a lot of it.

Studying a reef that the public didn't alter gave me a reason to be there at least twice a week. I made a dive on an alternate site once a week, if there was time. That meant three dives a week.

If I didn't do three dives a week, I felt like I was leaving something undone. I did love being under the sea. There was a beauty there that didn't exist anywhere else.

*****

I was antsy today, even before the Sea Lab reached the channel. I'd been restless all day and I didn't know why. I wanted to get going. The speed in the channel was five miles per hour. It was slow.

Neither the Sea Lab or I could wait to be free of all constraints.

Smiling, I thought of the trouble I had keeping the tri-hull under control until I was out of the cove. With its twin 40hp Evinrudes, the Seaswirl absolutely screamed. Once I pushed her throttles forward, it didn't take long to get where I was going. The Seaswirl cut quite a rooster tail through the water.

At twenty-eight I'd yet to quench my need for speed. Until Harry bought the tri-hull, I'd never experienced serious speed on or off the water. I had a life that was centered around my work, but I wasn't without vices. The need for speed was heightened by the second conservancy boat I used.

I loved being on the Gulf of Mexico. The faster I went and the farther out I went, the better I liked it. With the Sea Lab at three quarters speed it felt like I was floating lackadaisically along. When the water was calm I had to work at feeling it under me. The size and weight of the Sea Lab meant it rode lower in the water and anything short of rough seas were smooth waters on her bridge.

The boat fought me to get going. We'd yet to clear the cove but open water was dead ahead and we could get going.

The Sea Lab was a far cry from the fourteen foot wooden runabout that served as our dive boat for my first couple of years at the conservancy. It had an old, unimpressive, 25hp Mercury engine. It was all wood and quite heavy.

When the wooden hull was more sealant than wood, Harry decided to restore it for use as a personal craft to ferry around special guests and bigger donors who came to see what we did.

The mahogany interior and polished wood finish made it a show boat for sure. Once restored, it was no longer appropriate for diving. It had always been Harry's boat and not the conservancy’s. It was what he had available for me to use at the time I joined his operation and diving became a big part of my education.

Once the fourteen footer was taken out of service, the search was on for a more appropriate diving platform. After two weeks Harry came to the conservancy to get me. We met Bill Payne at a dealer that was selling the new eighteen foot Seaswirl. They'd gained popularity shortly after they first appeared on the market.

Being a tri-hull made the Seaswirl more stable, which made it perfect for dives. There was plenty of room for equipment and the two 40hp Evinrudes meant we'd get to where we were going twice as fast. Both Harry and Bill Payne bought a Seaswirl on the same day. It fit into the slip where the fourteen footer once occupied with plenty of room for another boat that size.

I had to go with Harry for the first week, but slowly he let me take the controls. I could see he was worried about all that power. I waited patiently to get my hands on the controls, savoring the speed Harry couldn't help but use. A couple of times he turned his head to smile at me as we kicked up a twenty foot high rooster tail behind us.

From then on I wasted no time getting where I was going and the Seaswirl had served me well until the year before. I didn't think another boat was necessary, but when I saw the Sea Lab, my heart skipped a beat. It was the end all and be all of floating laboratories. I'd give up speed to add the Sea Lab to my task of impressing donors with what we were capable of doing at the conservancy.

The Seaswirl was perfect for diving and skimming across the Gulf of Mexico. The Sea Lab allowed me to dive and an hour after I surfaced, I was making notes, and examining whatever specimen I'd brought back with me. I could either put it in the refrigerated compartment or add it to my bottles of specimens that would end up in the lab at the conservancy.

I remembered the day Harry called me into his office and said, “I wanted to talk to you about boats, Clayton.”

“Boats?” I said suspiciously. “Our Seaswirl's in great shape. Being fiberglass means no sealant in the hull.”

Harry laughed, remembering the shock of the man who first checked the hull before it was sent to be restores.

“We've got a problem, Clay. There's another boat,” Harry said solemnly and with all the conviction a congressman could muster.

“Another boat?” I asked confused.

“It would be easier for me to show you than explain it to you. Let's take a ride. You'll understand when you see the boat.”

We took a ride toward Tampa. An hour and a half later he left the Interstate, turning back toward the Gulf.

The road we ended up on left something to be desired. Then we ended up in a huge yard full of boats. Actually they weren't boats so much as they were yachts. I didn't know there were so many yachts and I was more confused than ever. They were huge with bridges towering above the decks.

“What do you think?” Harry asked before the car stopped.

“Think about what? I don't know anything about yachts, Harry. You're on your own if you're buying one. I don't get it,” I confessed, not knowing why I was there.

“Your new boat is in the shop. Want to take a look at it,” he said excitedly. “It's just come back from being fitted with the latest laboratory equipment on the market along with radar, sonar, and underwater cameras. It's the latest thing in sea exploration, Clayton.”

I was speechless. All the talk of frugality at the conservancy belied the idea of buying a yacht. Of course, as usual, I was always several steps behind Harry, but why wouldn't I be?

“Where'd the money come from for a floating laboratory?” I asked, knowing how carefully money was usually spent by the congressman.

“It's a donation to the conservancy from one of my donors. He's recently bought a place on the island. He was already interested in the work we're doing at the conservancy. We were talking about the importance of preserving the Gulf. I must have really been on my game that day.”

“He's paying for it?” I asked, still in shock.

“He called a week after our chat and said, 'I want to buy you a boat, Harry.' I told him congressman can't accept such gifts. He told me the boat was for the biology lab. 'Something nice,' he said. You've got to admit it's nice, Clayton.

“We're splitting the cost of the lab equipment between Mr. Mosby and the conservancy. It's equipment we'd have been buying soon anyway. I got a hold of Bill Payne to put the lab together to do what you'll need. You, Mr. Olson, are the best equipment marine biologist in the region. Congratulations! I knew all along you'd make something of yourself.”

I was speechless. The name, Sea Lab, was already stenciled on the back of the boat. No name fit the Sea lab as well as that one.

*****

I was anxious to get out of the cove. I couldn't wait to throttle up and get to the dive site. My restlessness persisted. Usually, once I was underway, my thoughts were on my pending dive.

I felt expectant!

What I was anticipating was unknown. Everything had been going so well for so long, I didn't like to get too comfortable, and this was likely connected to that.

This was a routine day that had me on the way to doing my favorite thing. I tried to think of what could have caused me to be on edge without success. Dylan was fine. Pop was healthy again. Mama was happy. I was happy. Life was good. I knew it could go downhill fast, but I could get eaten by a shark or have a plane fall on me too.

Diving would clear my mind. When I dove I achieved a total focus. Diving was relaxing and it allowed me to center myself. The bee that was now buzzing in my brain would be short lived once I got into the water.

I checked the radar and saw nothing nearby. I walked off the bridge to double check, standing at the highest point on the boat behind the bridge. I scanned the horizon for company. There was nothing in sight. This wasn't an area that attracted a lot of attention. It was too close in for fishing and too far out for someone hugging the coast while sailing south.

As I stood there looking from right to left and back, I remembered the last time I had the sensation I was experiencing today. After I took over Teddy's car, I was followed by the FBI from time to time. While I looked nothing like my brother, the car was enough to get the FBI excited.

They didn't try to hide their presence. They deduced that if I was driving my brother's car, I probably knew where he was. Actually, I drove his car because he didn't want them to be able to find him. The car would have been a dead giveaway of his whereabouts if he kept it.

The first year Teddy went underground in the draft resistance, anyone leaving the conservancy house was subject to being followed. It didn't get the FBI anywhere, but it didn't deter them either. They were persistent suckers. I could chuckle about it now.

Once I'd reached open water, pushing the throttle forward, the air got fresher and the day got nicer. I was sure I'd lose the willies I was experiencing. As I stood behind the bridge, I needed to decide if I'd go to my reef or go to a site farther along.

I couldn't see anything in any direction. I got the binoculars to do one more scan to be sure. I still wasn't convinced I wasn't being followed, even thought there was no evidence to support the feeling.

I laughed at myself and cursed the leftover residue from the FBI. I stayed behind the bridge to admire the Sea Lab's wake and the deep green sea that allowed me to get so completely free. I watched where I came from, still having a few miles to go. When I returned to the bridge to make sure I was still on course, the radar showed nothing.

I rarely dove this reef with company. It was unknown except for Harry and Bill Payne. Both of them were aware of everything I did. My journals were meticulously kept, which was a byproduct of Lucy's input at the lab. At Lucy's insistence everything I did each day went into the current journal, 'As a proper scientist does it.'

It was a violation of the law to fail to register a shipwreck upon its discovery. A proper scientist knows the laws concerning his field, but I wasn't diving on a shipwreck. I was diving on a reef.

Lord knows how long it took to become a reef but that was my excuse should someone stumble upon the reef and me studying it. I wasn't certain it was a shipwreck at first. I could see it wasn't a natural reef.

The law was in place to prevent someone from salvaging something without cutting the state in on the find and state taxes for the value recovered must be paid. Anyone who looked at the shipwreck could see that it hadn't been disturbed. My interest was in the creatures that now resided there.

I hadn't been certain what I'd found at the time but the fastest way to ruin a pristine reef is to tell people where it is. It would be useless for my studies after that.

Mention the word shipwreck and everyone and his brother would be diving it the next day. There would be so many boats I'd need to get in line to have a spot to anchor. The reef would be torn apart to get at whatever might be inside the ship. Keeping it to myself might do some good in the long run.

I still lived for the days I dove. No matter what was on my mind or what I faced in the way of annoyances, diving dissolved all stress for two hours. Being Underwater was being in a different world. It was a world where human worries held little sway.

I'd remembered to bring the basket from the lab on this trip. I wanted to bring up two barnacle encrusted brick shaped objects. Maybe that's what had me on edge. It was the first time I'd brought anything up from the vicinity of the shipwreck that couldn't be classified as a specimen. I had plan for the bricks.

They weren't close to the reef. Anyone could see the reef hadn't been disturbed in hundreds of years. I kept my distance and observed, taking pictures on a regular schedule. I'd never made any attempt to see what was on the shipwreck.

I'd discovered the bricks a few weeks before. They were dozens of yards away from the reef. They weren't part of the shipwreck. How they got there, I didn't know. I could hazard a guess, but I didn't. Scientists didn't guess, and therein was my out.

Some late season storms churned up the bottom and uncovered the objects. I looked them over when I first found them, but it took a few days for me to have plans for two of the brick shaped objects.

I hadn't seen them before and I'd been diving there for over a year. After stumbling on the objects a few times, I decided they'd be good replacements for the rotting coconuts that held open the double doors that lead from my bedroom to the screened in porch.

Today I was taking two bricks home. They'd hold the doors open fine and they wouldn't smell or rot.

I checked my compass to be sure I was on course. Cutting back on the throttle, I let the Sea Lab idle as I dropped anchor. I watched the radar and walked back to examine the horizon again. No one was in the area. I cut the engines to prepare for the dive. The reef was fifty yards off starboard.

Since first being underwater, this was my element. The only time I hurried was after leaving the slip. The excitement built until I dropped anchor, double checking to be sure where the reef was.

I was in no hurry now. I got my equipment for the dive on deck. Once I was ready, I checked the horizon for any boat close enough to be curious about what the Sea Lab was up to.

It was a beautiful day. There was no sign of the winter changes that could come at any time. The days were warm and clear and the nights were perfect for sleeping. There were a couple of storms but the good weather returned after they passed.

All was well and it was just another perfect day in paradise.

Half a lifetime ago, I'd become a fisherman. I was fascinated by the sea creatures that came out of our nets. Thinking about journeying to where they lived hadn't occurred to me.

I'd seen Sea Hunt, watching former frogman Mike Nelson SCUBA dive, but as a fisherman, my business was done from a boat. Once I got underwater, it hit me. This is where I want to be. This is where the sea creatures are. My future was taking shape.

Once I went diving, being on the surface of the water lost a lot of luster. After anchoring and preparing my equipment, I slipped into my gear, holding my flippers and mask as I descended the ladder.

I rinsed my mask in the salt water before putting it on. It wouldn't fog up now. I slid the flippers on one at a time, letting go of the boat, drifting free. I began to sink slowly into the soft green sea. I hung in the liquid ten feet below the boat with almost no effort. Even with the tanks I was buoyant. The high salt content of the water helped to keep the body from sinking. It also burned your eyes something fierce if you kept them open too long in the Gulf. A mask eliminated that problem.

My eyes got red after swimming with Dylan behind the house in the morning. We both enjoyed an early morning swim and we didn't wear eye protection. My eyes stayed red for a couple of hours after a swim.

Ivan and I hadn't noticed the burning or the red eye.

As I slowly moved deeper, I watched the sun's rays cut fine streaks in the turquoise sea. A glance at the surface showed me what a bright day it was. It revealed a billion tiny organisms between me and the surface, but nothing else was there.

Below me it was clear but darker. The brighter light didn't penetrate well at that depth. I slowly settled onto the sandy bottom. I took one more look up to see if there was any motion or activity above me.

Moving along the bottom, I swam toward the reef. To someone entering the water from above, I'd be invisible, hidden in the shadows. They'd stand right out on the sunny surface.

At the site of the shipwreck the water was no more than forty or fifty feet deep. The upper section of the wreckage was no more than twenty feet below the surface, but you couldn't tell what it was at a glance. The reef distorted the shape of the ship.

In an emergency I could jettison my tanks and make it to the surface in a few seconds. That's not how you wanted to surface but I knew it was an option if I ran into trouble. The worry about nitrogen bubbles in my blood was minimal at this depth.

I usually took my time surfacing from any depth. It was smart for a diver not to get in a hurry. I tried to be smart. I tried not to get into trouble. I'd been at this a long enough to know what I was doing.

I took my time adapting to the sensations of weightlessness. I checked my equipment and the environment around me. I had no desire to create trouble for myself. I knew exactly where the shipwreck was from the point where I entered the water.

I didn't anchor too close to it. I didn't go directly to it either. I did keep an eye on the surface for signs of movement. Today I spent even more time looking up at what was above me. There was nothing there but the feelings of anticipation hadn't subsided.

I took precautions to preserve the shipwreck as I'd found it. One day I might get curious and explore the wreck, but to explore the ship would mean destroying the reef. I saw no need to do that.

I'd never heard another boat approach that location. Once I went to the reef, I was quite a ways from where I left the Sea Lab. I didn't think I'd hear a boat from that distance. The Sea Lab stood out from every other boat. Stealing it would have been foolish. Anyone who saw it remembered seeing it, and they'd remember the skipper too. Me! It rarely left the slip without me on board.

Duel tanks gave me two hours of air. At an hour and forty five minutes I prepared to surface. I Still had my original tank stowed on board. If I found something interesting, it gave me an additional hour underwater.

At this depth an extra hour on bottled air wouldn't be a problem and it gave me a chance to take a second look at something I discovered. I avoided the need to come back the next day.

It was rare I wasn't satisfied by the time a dive ended. It was my element. It's where I felt most comfortable. My senses were heightened. I tingled with excitement before every dive. I didn't want to miss anything or get surprised. Hyper-awareness kept me safe.

The deep is a wonderful place. It was also a place where you could find yourself in trouble fast. A diver shared the water with predators who stayed well fed by being able to slip up on their prey. The best idea was to be aware of what was in the water with you at all times.

The attacks on divers by sharks, barracuda, or manta ray are miniscule, but that didn't mean it didn't happen if you forgot where you were. It was a lesson Seeing a shark up close is an amazing experience, but not if he's eating you.

Alertness was the key to safety.

*****

Euphoria often followed a dive. I didn't like the minute when I realized it was time to go. I had to remind myself of how much I'd seen and how lucky I was to be back soon to do it all over again. It didn't make it easy to leave but the prospects of the next dive kept me involved, as I took final notes in my head.

Once I was back on the Sea Lab, there were things to do. Each dive was different and I needed think about what I wanted to write about this one and get the equipment ready for the next dive before this one was complete.

When I got on the Sea Lab's deck there was a prize and a surprise. I'd put the two bricks in the basket I took with me and I hooked the basket to the line I tied to the rail, dropping the basket in before I went in. The basket felt heavier than I expected it to feel.

Once I had the basket on the railing, it was a heavy sucker, I nearly dropped it on my foot before getting it on deck.

My preparation for claiming the bricks didn't prepare me for the biggest surprise, once they were on the Sea Lab.

“Want a root beer, Clay?” Ivan asked, standing naked in the doorway that led to the interior of the boat.

“Ivan Aleksa, are you trying to give me a heart failure?” I yelped, grabbing my chest as I whirled around. “How did you get out here? How did you know where I was? Where in the hell have you been,” I blurted without waiting for any answers.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he said, taking a drink of root beer and staying put.

If Ivan had been a gorgeous boy, he was one hunk of a man. At twenty-eight he'd filled out, matured, and his face showed some wear on it, but his well cut features were as perfect as ever. Looking at me made me feel faint. Not looking at him for the past few years pissed me off. Not hearing from him for a year made me angrier yet.

“I don't drink root beer,” I finally managed, knowing he knew. “I drink Pepsi in case you've forgotten,” I explained.

He held up the bottle of Pepsi he'd been holding behind his back.

“I came all this way to say hello to my lover, and he treats me like a stowaway,” Ivan said, knowing where to aim to hit the exposed nerves. “And I wore this just for you.”

It wasn't easy staying in control of my emotions. There were a million feelings running through me. I was delighted to know Ivan was alive. I knew exactly where he was for the first time in years. My mind wasn't so eager as my heart to see him. The upheaval and turmoil began anew. Ivan rocked my world in more ways than one.

“You know, I'd bring the Pepsi over there if I wasn't afraid you'd belt me,” he said, knowing I'd never raise a hand to him and pissing me off even more than usual.

“When have I ever belted you, Ivan?” I asked. “You making it up as you go along now?”

“Always a first time for everything, my love,” he said. “I'd deserve it if you did belt me. I'd never hit you back, Clay, but I deserve to be whipped for the way I've treated the man I love.”

“I know, Ivan. As hard as you make it on me, I'd walk away before I'd be violent, and don't mistake that for my being okay with you leaving me hanging.”

“You have moved up in the world, Mr. Olson. Where the hell did the floating palace come from? I tried to get a look at one of your laboratories, but you've got this place locked up tight as a drum.”

“I don't want to lose my notes or specimens. This floating lab was the gift of one Mr. John S. Mosby III. He donated it to the conservancy,” I said. “It's loaded with lab equipment. I'll show you if you have time. It's a dream come true for a marine biologist. Professionally things are very good.”

“I still see you as a kid in my head, Clay. You have come a long way. You've made something out of yourself. That makes me feel good. I feel safe enough I can bringing the Pepsi to you now.”

I watched his muscular arms and chest undulate as he moved over to me. I recognized his scent from ten feet away. I closed my eyes and breathed in his essence. It had been way too long.

He walked to where I'd put the basket on the deck, glancing down at the two barnacle covered objects. I could see the question on his face. He considered what I'd considered at first.

I was afraid to move. I was afraid he'd disappear between there and here. I was afraid I surfaced too fast. I was afraid Ivan was an illusion. This was the kind of dream I had all the time, and I dreamed about him most nights. We were still together.

I'd wake up to an empty bed when I dreamed those dreams.

I'd been waiting for Ivan to come home for ten years. You'd think I'd have stopped waiting by now, but he did something to me no one else could.

Until he said different, I'd wait.

Chapter 4

The Searcher

My love for Ivan hadn't diminished. I wanted him as soon as I saw him. My heartbeat doubled. It didn't drop back to normal until after I was home that evening.

I'd be normal when Ivan was home and I slept in his arms.

“I've got a knife in my pants. I can scrape some of the sea crust off your gold bars if you want?” Ivan said, toeing the basket. “Pop Pop told me about pirates sailing these waters, looking for a port in the storm. That what you found, Clay? Spanish Galleon laden with Aztec gold the Spanish liberated fair and square?”

He spoke without enthusiasm, like he knew bricks were used in the holds of empty ships for ballast.

“No thank you. I plan to use the bricks to prop open the doors in my room. The coconuts have seen better days. They're turning black.”

“You have come up in the world. Using gold bricks to prop your doors open. How come that doesn't surprise me? As I mentioned, I always knew you'd make something of yourself. And speaking of something, this isn't your average Chris-Craft.”

As soon as he looked into my eyes, I melted. He stood closer and I felt every feeling I'd ever felt for him, all at once.

He decided to prove he wasn't an apparition by putting his arms around me. The kiss was long and lingering. His skin was cool, mine was hot. Instead of feeling the usual feelings, I was reminded of what I'd been missing.

He still knew how to get my full attention. Resistance was futile. It never crossed my mind. It was there, If not seeing him for so long didn't stifle our love, nothing would, but I didn't know what he felt.

I never loved anyone the way I loved Ivan and I never would.

His manly arms squeezed me, he pressed the cold Pepsi in between my shoulder blades. Ivan had grown a masochistic streak.

I wanted to kill him.

Waves of chills ran up and down my spine. I spun away, glaring back at him.

Now I wanted to hit him.

“You asshole,” I yelped. “What's wrong with you. I don't see you for next to forever and you pull that sophomoric crap. You're right, there is always a first time,” I blurted, mad as a hornet.

Was this really the man I loved?

“Have I ever told you that I love you,” Ivan said, taking my breathe away twice in the same minute. “If you don't drink root beer, why is your refrigerator full of my favorite brand? Quite a refrigerator, might I add. You do live large, Clay.”

“Why?” I spat out at him, keeping my distance this time. “When I pick stuff up for the boat, I always think, maybe this will be the week Ivan comes home. That's why I buy your stinking root beer.”

“Yeah, I know why, Clay. Like I said, 'I love you too.' I'm sorry for being gone so long. I'm sorry I can't get a phone call to you from Cambodia and Thailand. Most of all, what I'm sorriest about, is not being here with you.”

“I'm sorry too, Ivan.”

“I know I've hurt you and I'm sorry about that. It's easier on you if you're mad at me. I deserve that. I am an asshole and you deserve better, Clay. We both know that.”

He said it like he meant it. He'd been gone a long time. I had a good life without Ivan. It's not the way I wanted it but it's how it was.

“I know where I stand. I told you I'd wait as long as it takes. I'm still waiting, Ivan, but time is running out. You can't simply waltz back into my life and expect it to be the way it was.”

“I'm not that stupid. You've done well for yourself, Clay. You've never been lucky with friends. Those boys in Tulsa. Me. Sunshine! We all leave you one way or another. When I do come home, I'll never leave you again.”

“Let's leave Sunshine out of it. When you come home, we'll deal with that.”

“That surprised me,” he said, sounding surprised. “I don't think anything about you surprised me as much as that did.”

“I don't want to talk about Sunshine,” I said.

“And Dylan. Your son was a real shocker. When I said take care of her, I didn't think of that. I didn't mind if it made you happy. I wasn't going to be around and Sunshine was nice. I liked her.”

“Mr. Aleksa, you are treading on dangerous ground. Leave it be,” I ordered. “You don't know anything about Sunshine. I had to deal with that alone. Don't go there now, Ivan. You don't get to do that.”

“Another dirty trick I played on you is what I'm saying. It meant you weren't alone and that was good.,” he said. “I didn't see you as a father but you're good at it. It suits you to have a son.”

“Ivan!” I said. “I lived through it. I remember it well.”

He closed in and kissed me. I became wrapped in his arms. In this I could find no fault. He got no complaints. Our bodies were locked together as if we'd never been apart, but we'd been apart. Being together now was trickier. It was harder, even when I loved being with him. It was made harder because he was going to leave me yet again before I got use to him being home.

I was no fool but I was incapable of hiding my love for him. His lips ignited my lips and our bodies fit together as they always had and they did a lot more. His body was heavenly, new, familiar, and he knew how to move to get me as excited as I'd ever been.

My passion was a hungry part of me I'd learned to anesthetize. It was remarkable how close to the surface the passion and lust was. The memory of what we'd been recreated what we use to do.

I found out that making love had a lot in common with riding a bicycle.

*****

We sat facing each other at the table in the galley. It seemed like old times. We'd once faced each other across the galley table on the Vilnius Two about a thousand times. The Vilnius Two was gone now, sunk in a storm in the Pacific off the coast of Chile.

But then and now had a million miles between them. This was how we did it. We started off mad, me anyway. We got glad, and we made love. We got sad toward the end, once love making ran out of steam, and it always did.

The realization became too strong. Even Ivan couldn't pretend it didn't hurt each time we saw each other, each time we said goodbye. He might be determined to find Boris but our love for each other was obvious, and from my perspective, it hadn't changed. Each time he came home, I expected it would change. It never did, not for me.

Being together reignited all the old feelings and the love.

“I miss you so much,” he said to his root beer. “You help me get through the bad days. The days when I think I'll never see my brother again. It's thinking about you that keeps me steady.”

“If my being here for you helps, I'm glad, Ivan. You've been gone a long time. I didn't know you were alive until I saw you standing on the Sea Lab. Then I couldn't be sure I didn't surface too fast.”

He was looking deep into my eyes before he looked down. I saw signs of the teenage boy I met after getting to Florida. It was half a lifetime for us. We'd been apart twice as long as we'd been together, but we'd always been together after we met, even before we were in love, admitted we were in love.

“I am sorry, Clay,” he said softly. “I'd love nothing more than to go back to how it was before.... I know I can't make it up to you.”

“Come home, Ivan. It's been long enough.”

“Can't,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “You say you're getting closer? You've said you were close before. How is it different this time.”

He put both of his hands on top of my hands. He looked at them while tears ran down his cheeks. Ivan didn't cry often. Emotionally he was far tougher than me. When he cried his tears were real.

As hard as it was on me, the search for his brother left Ivan with no life of his own.

His life literally belonged to Boris.

*****

Getting my mind back on my business, I realized it was about the time Pop would be looking for me to get back. I needed to call and let him know he should go home and to take Dylan with him. It would be a few more hours before I'd make it home.

“Sea Lab to base. Sea Lab to base,” I said, knowing Pop may already be gone when I looked at the time.

“Go ahead, Sea Lab. You OK, Clay?” Pop asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I ran into an old friend on a wave out here. Go ahead home Pop. Take Dylan with you. I'll be late,” I said.

“When I sent Ivan out there, I figured you'd be late. I'll see you when you get to the house. I waited to hear from you before I left.”

“I'll be late. Don't wait up for me,” I said. “We're about to sit down and talk. That will take a while. He can't leave, unless he swims, until I get the answers I want.”

“You haven't thanked me yet, Clay. I did send him to you. I don't remember the last time I saw him. He hasn't changed, except he grew up since his last visit.”

“Thanks, Pop. I do appreciate it,” I said. “He is a man now.”

“I knew just where you were diving. I called Harry's man at the marina and he agreed to carry Ivan out to where you are.”

“I can never be sure things haven't changed since the last time I was there,” Ivan said.

I held down the button on the radio so Pop could hear him.

“It's all the same, only better, Ivan,” Pop said. “Stop for dinner when you get a chance.”

“I will,” Ivan said. “Next time I'm in the neighborhood.”

“Did he meet Dylan, Pop?”

“No, Harry came by to see your new specimens. Dylan took him to the lab to show him the new ones. They were over there. I saw Harry out next to Ivan's car right right after Ivan left the shop. Dylan wasn't with Harry. I didn't know Harry knew Ivan.”

“Funny how things work, Pop. You just never know who Harry might know, and I'd been expecting something to happen all day. Figured the FBI was tailing me again. I guess it wasn't the FBI after all. Thanks again. Sea Lab out.”

*****

“What did you and Harry have to talk about?” I asked.

“Things you aren't supposed to know. You know I can't talk about what he tells me.”

“He told you something?”

“More like he was glad I was out of Southeast Asia.”

“He knows more about what you've been up to than he tells me?” I considered, expecting what I got.

“He's a congressman. If he doesn't know more than you about what's going on, he's in big trouble.”

“That wasn't what I said. Go ahead. The ball is in your court, Mr. Aleksa. I've got nothing to hide. If you won't answer my questions at least tell me what you're able to tell me. My time is your time. You're getting closer? How close and when do you come home for good?”

I didn't mean to be easy on him. I needed more details and his visits were coming too far apart to let him get away without some clarification concerning what he told me. If I wasn't too specific, he might give me more than I expected.

Ivan sat sipping his root beer and looking at me like he was seeing me for the first time. I could see he had something on his mind. He either wasn't certain how to tell me or he was deciding whether or not to tell me.

The distance between us was about more than geography.

For the first time since his Sunday phone calls and regular visits stopped, I had Ivan where I wanted him. He might not be able to tell me what I wanted to know, but I had no such restrictions on me.

We weren't going anywhere until I got something specific besides Harry knows more than he tells me.

I sat across from him, admiring how the man I loved looked. I had the feeling I was in the middle of a dream. I had vivid dreams of the man I loved, but never had he looked as good as he did now. I always dreamed about the teenage Ivan. The Ivan I'd known.

He watched me until I grew quiet and waited without any more questions. Our hands were folded together and it was only a short trip to his lips, but I didn't want more sex without a little table talk.

The fear he no longer loved me crossed my mind. The thought he might have found someone else to love was troubling. I was looking for relief. Waiting so long meant I wasn't ready to give up on Ivan yet, unless he told me it's what I needed to do.

We sipped from our sodas, looked at our hands, and tried to get comfortable being together.

“I always worry you'll be gone when I come home. I worry the conservancy won't be there when I go to see you. I worry the Olsons have moved to parts unknown and you've gone with them and left no forwarding address. I worry I won't see you again.”

“Every time you leave me, I wonder if I'll ever see you again.”

“Touche',” he said, needing to look away from my eyes.

He couldn't escape my gaze. This wouldn't be easy. It hadn't been easy since the day he left and it wasn't easy now.

“I think about you a lot. I think of the time I've been gone. I worry about what you think of me. I worry you aren't going to wait any longer and are about to tell me that,” Ivan said, pausing so I could correct him. “You've waited a long time. Too long. Longer than most people can wait for someone.”

“The only thing I know about loving someone comes from loving you, Ivan. I can't unlove you. You have something you need to do. I'm waiting for it to be done. I'll always love you, whether or not you come back home to be with me.”

“I know. I walk into your life cold. I come from parts unknown, and here I am. I'll be gone in a few hours, heading for parts unknown. I never know if this is the time you won't welcome me home. I wish it could be different. I don't know how to do anything but what I'm doing. I need to find Boris.”

“You aren't home. We're in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. When you do come home, Ivan, if you come home, you'll be welcome. You left us. We never left you.”

“I was hoping you'd say that, Clay. I worry you won't be able to keep saying it and meaning it. It's not like I asked for this.”

“Knowing what we had and wanting it back doesn't mean I don't have a life without you. I have a good life, even though I miss you. My son is growing up, Ivan. My career is going great guns. It would be a dream come true if you became a part of it, but you aren't coming home, are you?” I asked.

“I can't. Not yet,” he said, watching his root beer.

“You won't,” followed easily.

“I know your life goes on with me or without me. It's Plain to see that Clayton Olson is a success. I can only do the best I can with what you give me ...and you don't intend to give me much, do you, Clay?”

“I can't.”

“I wish I could be here, but I can't,” he said.

“Come home,” I said, getting down to the nitty-gritty.

“Can't,” he said solemnly. “Still work to do. Promises to keep. People to meet.”

“I know,” I said. “How long have we got this time?”

All the emotion had drained out of me now. I knew the program and I knew the rules. We were just two friends thinking about the way we were and might never be again.

“I fly out of Miami at nine tonight,” he said.

I began laughing. Sometimes he did amazed me. As smart as he was, he still had no sense of time.

“Bet me! Do you know what time it is, Ivan?”

“I know. I get close to you and I can't help myself. I've got to see you. I knew when your father told me where you were, I wouldn't make Miami in time tonight. Didn't matter. I couldn't be this close and not see you” he said, taking a long look.

“See me? You see a lot of me when you get around to it,” I said.

“Yes, if I get within a hundred miles of you, I've got to make love to you. I think of making love to you a lot. We were together for so long, made love so often, I didn't see a time when we couldn't. When they said be in Miami, I knew where I was going. I had to see you. I wanted to feel you in my arms.”

“Is there an alternate plan or do you make it up as you go along?” I asked, worrying about how he'd get where he was going.

“I'll make some calls once we dock. I'll make up time along the way. I'll hitch onto a military flight if need be. They aren't as comfortable as Pan Am but all it takes is a phone call to get routed where I need to be. I've got three days to be in Cambodia.”

“Cambodia?” I asked.

“It's where I'm meeting the Russians. They have the information about Boris. My last mission bought me the Russians. My people sweetened the pot to get me to take the last assignment. They knew what I was after in Vietnam. They know what I'm after. They knew why I was out there when they arrested me.”

“They had no authority to arrest you. They're Americans. That isn't America.”

“Tell them that. They held me for two weeks before they first talked to me. I won't tell you what a tiger cage is but once you are in one, you don't forget it.”

“These Russians will tell you what?” I asked with suspicion. “It sounds too good to be true if you ask me, after all this time.”

“They've seen pictures of Boris. They have seen him in a village they visit from time to time, Clay.”

“Your people have known this how long?”

“I don't know when my people came by the information. I get the impression the Russians do work for my people. They knew they didn't have any way to hold onto me, after my last assignment. It's a long story but the Russian's were the bait to keep me on the job. I'll tell you the entire story once I'm home, but this time it's real. There is nothing else. They played their last card.

“Needless to say, trying to break into Vietnam is how I ended up in their hands. They intercepted me on the border in '73.”

“I remember your telling me you were going there. That was a long time ago,” I reminded him. “Five years and you were getting close as I recall.”

“They told me that Boris was alive in '77. I told them I'd known he was alive since '68. That's when they gave me the mission I just completed. That's when they told me what the Russians had.”

“Your people? Who are your people, Ivan?” I asked, afraid of sounding like an interrogator.

He smiled.

“My people,” he confirmed. “I can't talk about that.”

“Nice guys,” I said.

I was thinking they were snakes. They were using Ivan to do some dirty work with a promise to give him Boris once they were done with him. If they got done with him. There were bad words to describe men like that and they were protected by our government. These are the men who create the chaos that keeps the world at war.

“The Russians are the last card. They will take me to Boris. It's the jackpot at the end of the rainbow, Clay. It's almost over. I should be home by the end of next year.

“In '73 they threatened to lock me up for ten years. I violated federal law by being in Vietnam. The guide I hired told them where I was crossing. No one is what he seems over there. Anyway, they're the only law over there. It's still a war zone.

“If I'd joined the army, I'd have been in Vietnam before you could say, 'Mrs. Robinson.' They kept me locked up for a couple of weeks. I don't know how long it was or where I was. It wasn't far from where they picked me up. It was in the jungle.

“Men are surprisingly pliable once they've been locked away for a few weeks. You begin thinking you'll never be free again and then they ask you to do some work and if you agree, you get a get out of jail free card.

“They knew why I was over there. They offered me a get into Vietnam free card, once I did the job. They didn't know where he was. They knew it would give them an advantage over me to find out.”

“Nice folks. Why not tell you where your damn brother is? Why would you work for people who put bait in front of you to get you to work for them? It doesn't sound like the Ivan I fell in love with. What makes you think they're telling you the truth, Ivan.”

“I don't think they know where Boris is. They know. They're my people. I know when they're telling me the truth and when they're blowing smoke up my ass. There were reports of Boris being sighted after he went MIA. The reports were vague but they came from several sources. The Russians are traders and they do business with the company. When they saw a picture of Boris, they knew where he was.”

“We're the enemy to the Russians. Why would they help us?”

“The lines are blurred over there. Information is the coin of the realm. The Russians are the key to finding Boris. Whatever the Russians want, the get, after they take me to Boris.”

“Sounds pretty remarkable after ten years.”

“Information is their business, Clay. People talk. People listen. They keep track of who says what to whom. The Russians get what they want. The company gets what it wants, and I get what I want.”

“Why not give you the information you need if they're your people? They don't sound like your people. They sound like bad guys.”

“They don't give anything away. I did what I agreed to do and now, I get the Russians.

“I'm close, Clay. I'm close and that means I'll be home soon. It's almost over. One way or another, it's almost over. If this should be a dry hole, I'm done. I'm at the end of my rope. I don't think it is. I don't think my people know where Boris is but they know the Russians know where he is. Should the Russians be blowing smoke, it'll be the last smoke they ever blow. The game has rules. You promise something and don't deliver, you don't get to make any more promises.”

I felt bad about being a born skeptic. I was lucky he came to see me. He wouldn't stop until he knew the truth about Boris. I hoped the people who were using Ivan gave him what they told him they would.

There was no reason for me to believe they would.

*****

Until I saw him in the flesh, I didn't know if Ivan was live or not. I had grown angrier about his absence over the years.

It made the pain worse when he called or came home. It reminded me of how it once was. I understood there weren't phone booths on every corner where he was and as time went on his search took him farther and farther away.

Then, one day, he was home, and there was more waiting, until he was gone. How long did we have this time? Before I had a chance to believe he was there with me, he'd be gone. He was a reminded of what I'd lost. At least he hadn't forgotten me. I wanted to be positive.

Talking to each other wasn't easy after being separated for so long. There were stages we needed to go through. Once we got mad, we were sad, and then we were glad to be together, even if only for a few hours. It took time to process what seeing him meant.

This is when we made up, made out, and made love. We didn't do that in steps. It simply unfolded and we did what came naturally. We did what we had to do whenever we came together. This time we started on the deck of the Sea Lab and ending up in the galley.

Once we exhausted ourselves, our passion grew quiet, we could talk, knowing the routine after so long. It wasn't something I planned or looked forward to. It's how it was for the years Boris was lost.

It was the force of two personalities colliding. We were grown men. We'd been boys when his search started.

If there was hope for us, this is where we'd start. Once he came home, we'd start with the steps we need to go through.

We needed to establish common ground and it would be just like starting over again. It's what I wanted.

We sat at the table in the galley, facing each other. He smiled bashfully when our eyes met. He had become a gorgeous man. He was seeing me as the man I'd become.

I felt like he was still my man after he made love to me like he meant it. The way I felt when I looked at Ivan told me that he'd always be my man, whether or not I was his. There had been no other man. I dreamed of being in Ivan's arms.

*****

My resolve to pin him down may have weakened but sitting two feet from him, I couldn't imagine finding another man like him.

As if he was reading my mind, he said, “I miss you, Clay. You don't know how much I miss you. The thought of you being here keeps me going. Give me one more year. If the Russians don't pan out, I'll hit a dead end. It'll be over. I can't do this any longer. I need to find my brother. Give me this one last shot. It may not be a year but we'll call it one year. Give me that and I'll come home and make it up to you for what I've put you through. Once I'm home, you won't be able to get rid of me after that.”

He was talking about coming home. He'd never before said he was coming home. I didn't need to ask for a day. The knowledge it was on his mind was enough for me.

“You're going to find him, Ivan. If my being here helps you, I'll be here for as long as it takes. I'm not going anywhere. The conservancy isn't going anywhere. You know where to find me, but don't forget what you said. I won't. It's been long enough but I'll wait one more year..”

“That's what you told me the year I left. Remember? I never knew things could get this complicated. The complexities of the world boggle my mind, and I'm ready to come back to the beach.”

“Yes.” I said, “I also told you, 'You're the only hope Boris has. If he's alive, and if anyone can find him, you can.' I believe that, Ivan.”

“That's when I got a grip on myself,” Ivan said. “You've always been here for me. I know this is home, Clay.”

Ivan's eyes sparkled with sincerity. He reminded me of the Ivan I fell in love with and they intensity he put into my life.

Making love proved we could still love each other physically. I didn't doubt he loved me in a romantic way. I could feel it. He still intended to leave me again at the end of the day.

His presence told me what I needed to know. He was saying all the right things and it gave me hope. I'd never lost hope but having him tell me he was on his way back to the beach, after he played the hand he had, made me a believer.

Our problem wasn't that we didn't love each other enough, and expecting him home if the 'Russians don't pan out' wasn't wise. I had a life to live until he did or didn't come home. I was luckier than Ivan. He'd given up his life to look for his brother.

I'd waited a long time. It's a long time to search for your brother. The passage of time changed the landscape of the world in which we once lived, but facing Ivan, seeing him seeing me, left me hopeful. I'd give him the time he needed. I'd encourage him.

Maybe we could reignite the passion from our past. Maybe we weren't so altered by time and life that we couldn't let our love take over and watch it grow strong.

I trusted him in spite of the time he'd been gone. If he wanted to make the effort, I was willing to wait until our time came.

Chapter 5

Improvise

After a while I grew accustomed to Ivan being gone and I stopped expecting him to come home.

When Ivan came home unexpectedly, things got tricky. It was even trickier now. My life had its own momentum. With Ivan came turmoil.

I had too much responsibility to let his absence be the most important thing about my life. I needed a game plan if we intended to stay together.

“Find your brother and come home, Ivan. It's been long enough,” I said. “I don't want to be waiting for the rest of my life for the man I love. It's time to set some limits on this thing.”

“I'm close. I don't mean people close. I'm closing in on where Boris is. I can feel it as clearly as I feel him. When I was in Vietnam in 1976, I stood on the ground where he was wounded. I felt his presence. I felt him struggling to stay alive.”

“You were there? How the hell did you manage that? We bailed out of Vietnam in '75,” I reminded him the official version.

“After finishing my last assignment, that was in '76, they gave me Vietnam. It's what they promised me in 1974. I agreed to work for them if they didn't put me in jail. They agreed to let me go to the battlefield where Boris was wounded once I completed my mission. That's how I know the Russians are real. They kept their word.”

“1974 is the year you stopped coming home,” I said disagreeably.

“I was in Southeast Asia. It's where the work is, but they kept me away from Vietnam for a long little while. I learned to speak fair Cambodian. I can hold my own with Vietnamese now, and my French is good. You'd think you are in France over there. If you can't find a language every one speaks, you speak French. Everyone speaks their native language and French,” he explained. “So I learned French.”

“French Indochina! The French owned the place,” I said.

“They did until Bien Bin Fu taught them different,” Ivan said.

“We talked about that once. How the Vietnamese got rid of the French. How'd you learn all those languages?”

“Men I was assigned to,” he said. “I've been over there most of the time since 1974. I wasn't able to get home from there. It's why I do come home any time I get close to you.”

“Assigned to?” I asked, wanting to keep the ball rolling.

“The work I do for the company, they do the same work,” he said. “Having someone watch your back is a good idea over there. Having a local working with you helps. They know the lay of the land.”

“Company? We keep going around in circles but you don't give me any details. How am I supposed to know what's going on.”

“It's how I keep you safe, Clay. I know you don't understand, but meeting you out here, where no one sees us, is a safety device. You not knowing anything about what I do means you can't ask questions about what I do. It's best to listen to what I tell you and accept it as the way things are for a while longer.”

“You don't think... your people know you headed for home as quick as they lose track of you? I'd think that would be exactly what they think,” I reasoned.

“Think but don't know and can't prove. I'm back on the radar before they know I'm off the reservation. This is what I do, meet people who don't mind talking as long as no one else is listening. We talk without the fear that someone is going to show up to find out what's been said. My people aren't the only people in the game.”

“You're a spy?” I observed, saying what I'd been thinking.

“003 and a third I ain't. I'm an asset, Clay. I go where people are talking and I listen,” Ivan explained. “I don't carry a weapon or beat the information out of them. I listen to people who want to talk.”

“You don't record the conversations?” I asked.

“That wouldn't be polite. It would be embarrassing if someone decide to pat me down. A recording device is worse than a weapon.”

“One wouldn't want to break protocol,” I said.

“No one wouldn't, and getting caught doing it might be unhealthy. On the other hand, I'm an asset because I can recite verbatim a conversation with someone who has useful information. I report these conversations to my superiors. That's is all I do.”

“You should have been a straight A student in school,” I said, not remembering his memory but remembering he was way smart.

“Remembering requires listening. I listen to the conversations, because it's my job. I didn't listen so much in class, because it was boring.”

“Sounds like you're spying,” I reiterated.

“That's harsh, Clay. I'm doing things for my government I never thought I'd do, but they had me by the short hairs. I don't think a prison uniform would become me. Then there would be no visits home for ten years.”

“I see your point. Why do people feel so free to talk in front of you? I didn't think Americans were highly thought of in that region.”

“Being nondescript, especially in the places where I'm an asset, I blend in with the locals. Dark hair, dark eyes, small frame. It's how you'd look if you were from there.”

“Not that small,” I said, patting his hand.

“And that makes me an asset to you,” he said, smiling across the table at me. “That's if you're into that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I am,” I reassured him.

“All the more reason for me to come home and stay out of prison when I can.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “You were saying what an asset you are.”

“When I tan, I'm colored similarly to most of the people in Southeast Asia. No one looks at me twice to see if I accomplish that with a little bit of sunshine. When I rattle off a few well spoken words in their language, I'm in like Flynn,” he explained. “Maybe Bruce Lee.”

“I bet you are,” I said. “Did you learn Kung Fu?”

“No, I neither have the time nor the desire.”

“Better stick with Flynn then.”

“I am tall, which isn't typical, but it isn't rare either. I'm just one of the guys and I sure do listen good. I speak when spoken to and I don't ask questions. Being a good listener, as I am, and people liking to talk, as they do, makes me a real big asset, not a spy. I wouldn't know how to spy on anyone.”

“Yes, and you're a big asset to me too, except when you aren't around, which makes it hard, because no one has an asset that big.”

“It can't be helped for the time being, Clay. I'm here now. You can make me feel bad about it if you want or we can make the most of it. We have a little more time.”

“Yes, but action without purpose is pointless, my love. I need to know where we're going, Ivan. I want to know you're really coming home to stay and be an asset to me again. If this just a pit stop along the road of life, I want you to tell me.”

He watched me, listening to what I was saying. We hadn't moved from where we sat down with our sodas, after my call to Pop. We'd started to get somewhere, but we'd started before, and when we were done, I still didn't know where I stood. I'd do my best to avoid that outcome this time.

“Can I have another root beer? This is my favorite brand. You can't get good root beer over there. It's all crap. Tastes like medicine. Another root beer and I'll get you up to date and you can judge if I'm on the way home to become your asset sooner than later.”

I came back with two bottles of root beer and a specimen jar filled with ice. He laughed. I sat down with my Pepsi. He wasted no time getting down to business.

“They gave me Vietnam after I finished my last assignment. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. They brought me someone familiar with where I wanted to go.. It's where he agreed to take me after learning why I wanted to go there. I wanted to see the battlefield.”

“How convenient. Isn't being in Vietnam dangerous?” I asked.

“It isn't healthy for Vietnamese who helped the Americans keep Vietnam divided for so long. They were punished. Sent them to reeducation camps to get their minds right.”

“What we have here is a failure to communicate?” I said.

“Actually, they're communicating just fine. The country was reunited. The people are back to being peasants. The bars, brothels, and such that made the country into little America are gone. Anti-government activities aren't allowed.”

“They threaten to send them to America if they don't behave?”

“Very funny. The man I was assigned to knew the battle where Boris was wounded. We went there so I could be where it happened.”

“That must have been weird,” I said.

“That's one word for it. We met a family of farmers on our way there. They reluctantly agreed to talk to me. They were peasants from a nearby village. They strongly suspected I was an American.”

“That must have been some meeting,” I said.

“Yes, it was. You could see the suspicion. They didn't look me straight in the eye and they mostly looked at their sandals. Once they understood that I was an American, there was a lot of bowing. It was best not to lie to them. They're quite perceptive people.

“Being American isn't particularly beneficial in Southeast Asia these days. I suspect they looked at me the way the Aztecs may have looked at Cortez.”

“You saying we're the Conquistadors? Quite an image. Didn't they destroy the Aztec?” I asked.

“We killed millions of Vietnamese, all in the name of peace of course. We left the country and our allies in ruin, not unlike the Conquistadors did. And conveniently, the winners write the history, so we get to hear how glorious the battle and how heroic the warriors.”

“No doubt they'd have made a movie about it if they'd invented electricity sooner,” I said.

“When the people in power decide they need to teach someone a lesson, you best look busy.”

“Those Masters of War are so predictable,” I said.

“And you wouldn't believe how many times over those masters can destroy the world,” Ivan said.

“You know this how?” I asked.

“When you work over there, it's a common topic of conversation. I work for the people who would do the destroying if they were told to. They collect information and they know exactly who they'd nuke.”

“That's more than I can wrap my brain around. You were in Vietnam and...? Feel free to fill in the blanks. I've never been.”

“We were standing outside this couple's hooch. It's some pretty rugged ground mind you. I'm taking it all in and my handler is doing his best to explain who I am and why I'm there, keeping it simple.

“He talks. They watch me out of the corner of their eyes, like I might be looking for a baby to eat. I'm not even hungry.

“They were listening carefully, being respectful, but they were plenty worried. Americans with Vietnamese men had paid them visits before. The conversation was getting us nowhere. So I step up, give them my most respectful bow, and I explain about Boris being wounded and he is now missing. I wanted to find him.

“I expected we'd be leaving any minute after that, but their demeanor changed. They weren't falling down with joy over me being there, but they got it. I wanted their help. It made a difference.

“The Vietnamese are nice people. Not to help a stranger would be bad manners. The couple talked among themselves. They seemed to be arguing. They talked way too fast for me to catch anything they were saying.”

“They'd been speaking Vietnamese a lot longer than you have,” I said.

“They had. Then they began bowing again, almost smiled, and we were invited in for tea. A lot of good business is done over tea in those countries. We sat politely waiting for the tea, after the woman excused herself to go make it. The husband excused himself, going back outside.

“Actually he went to get his son out of the rice paddy you can't see from their house. That's what they argued about. Did they want their son and the American in the same hooch at the same time? That's a guess, but we're working on the premise they want to help and the son was at the battle too where Boris was wounded. He might have information that could be useful. That's my read on it.”

“Small world isn't it?” I said.

“Yes it is,” he said. “Most of those people in the hills fought when the fighting came to them. There's an AK-47 in every hooch. Boris' unit was ambushed by North Vietnamese Army regulars. The couple's son worked as a scout for the NVA. Knowing the area he guided the NVA into an advantageous position.

“The mother served the tea. The father was back, looking relieved. The man I arrived with looked uneasy. He knew the father went for the son and no telling if he had that AK-47 handy. He suggested I show them a picture of Boris. While the couple looked at the picture, he watched their faces.

“I keep a picture of Boris in my wallet. It's one that would pass for me. It's quite effective. The couple looked at it closely. They looked at me closely. They didn’t need to ask why I was searching for him,” Ivan said.

“Close up there are subtle differences between the two of you,” I said. “In a picture no one could tell you apart.”

“They exchanged a comment I didn't get. Then the son steps into the room. He doesn't look any older than me.

“He says in English, 'I look.'”

“I handed him the picture and he looked at it. Then he looked at me. He hadn't heard any of the previous conversation. I don't know what his father told him. The mother brings the son a cup of tea and we sit in a circle pondering our belly buttons.

“'Brother?' the son asks in English, after he drinks some tea.”

“Yes, he was wounded near here in August 1968. He's been missing since then. I've only recently been allowed to enter Vietnam.

According to the map I have, your farm is close to where the battle was fought. We were on the way to the battlefield when we stopped.”

“He said, 'I remember battle. We fight two... maybe three day. I no fight. I scout. Know area. I take. Show where.'”

He was unemotional about it and I jumped at the chance to see where Boris was wounded. He was surprisingly open and informative. I wouldn't call him friendly. He didn't mind telling me what he knew. They were nice people.”

“I'd expect some hostility after what we did to them,” I said.

“They're glad we're gone. They've moved on,” Ivan said. “That was my read on it. As we walked the several kilometers, I told him what Boris' friends told me. He was wounded but alive. Their position was overrun. They withdrew and then returned. After a search, his unit withdrew. He was recorded as an official MIA.”

“'No prisoner,' the son said. 'I see prisoners. None look like you,” he said. 'I no look at dead.'”

“You were with the North Vietnamese Army?” I asked. “'No, Americans call me VC,” the son said. 'Father VC. We VC village. We farmer. No VC.'”

“What did you call us?” I asked, wanting to lighten the mood. He looked at me and smiled. Then he laughed. He didn't tell me. “'War over. You go home. You American now.'”

“”You Vietnamese now. No VC,' I told him.”

“Why can't it be that simple,” I said.

“Because that would be simple,” Ivan said. “We like complicating things. Anyway, we were invited to eat with them. Good manners had us accepting their kind offer.”

“As we became more comfortable with each other, the son talked of Americans being seen in Cambodia and Laos. It's the first time I'd heard that. We were in northwest Vietnam. The other borders weren't that far. A wounded man could make it out of Vietnam if he wasn't hurt too seriously. That was good information to know,” Ivan said. “It opened up my mind to the possibility the NVA was between him and his unit. By going west, he'd have reached Cambodia.”

“Because of what I learned, I believe the Russian traders are real. When I went to Vietnam, my people put no restrictions on me. I was free to go where I wanted and do what I had to do. Of course the Vietnamese didn't get a say in the matter.”

“Nice folks,” I said.

“I don't need to know what my people do with the information I bring them, but they've always kept their word. I kept mine. It's good business,” Ivan said. “If I didn't do it, someone else would.”

“But not as well as you,” I said.

“No, not nearly as well as me,” he agreed, swishing the ice and root beer in his specimen jar.

*****

He leaned forward on his arms to kiss me across the table. It had the desired affect. It wasn't going to take my mind off the questions I wanted to ask. I'd been waiting for years to get this kind of opportunity.

I kissed him back, moving out of range. Keeping my head clear.

“It's getting dark. We have time, and then I'll be on my way,” he said, letting me see he was ready to rock and roll if I was.

Being ready was no longer enough.

“You were saying there are people who have seen Boris?” I said with a measure of suspicion in my voice. “Let's talk about that.”

“The Russians,” he said, taking his seat and sipping his soda. “They've identified Boris to my people's satisfaction. They trade throughout Southeast Asia, but when people like the Russians do you favors, you give them plenty of latitude. They're excellent assets. It's how my people keep up to date on the ebb and flow in the region.”

“I don't get it. Why don't we just mind our own business and let the people in the region take care of their own ebb and flow? Aren't the Russians all commies, sworn enemies of the right and righteous?” I asked, having never heard anything but that since I was five.

“They're men making a living, Clay. Politics aren't what most people's lives are about. They have access Americans can't get. They hear things regular assets may not hear,” Ivan said.

“Maybe if we didn't kill so many of the people over there, we'd have more people who talk to us,” I said. “Questioning people at the point of a gun may not produce reliable information.”

“People like the Russians aren't beyond selling information. Since they know my people, they've probably done business,” Ivan said.

“Which brings me back to the idea that the Russians know your people. Your people want something out of you. The Russians conveniently happen to have what you want. Convenient.”

“Yes, but it's what this is all about. I've got to go where the information takes me. It's all I've got.”

“The Russians being our enemy, and with all the nukes pointed at each other, I worry about their veracity,” I said.

“Propaganda for the proletariat. All Russians are commies. The Vietnamese are gooks. We're just good old boys trying to protect our freedom,” Ivan said.

“You're saying it's bogus? The Russians really aren't commies?”

“The Russians are just people, as are the Vietnamese. They're like us, you and me. They'd like to live their lives in peace. Our governments aren't about to let that happen.”

“Why are we still over there? We left in '75. I watched them pushing helicopters off that aircraft carrier.”

“The people who watch the world for our government are still there. It just isn't men in uniforms. I'm living proof. We're everywhere, you know.”

“Kind of like crab grass,” I said.

“Harsh, Clay. We're protecting America's freedom.”

“I don't get it. Why don't we just mind our own business? Who are we to tell people what kind of government we'll allow them to have?”

“Fighting the Vietnam War here isn't going to accomplish anything. People who have power do what they do because they have the power to do it. It's not complicated.”

“You still believe he's alive after all this time?” I asked. “Why haven't we heard from him?”

“More than ever. I feel him more strongly now.”

“In late 1973 I got caught over there without any documents.

I had to do what I was told to stay out of prison. I haven't gone over to the dark side, but I've seen what they do. You might say, the company made me an offer I didn't dare refuse, Clay.”

“Tell me about the Russians. Where do they fit in? We're doing business with our enemies. It's confusing.”

“They're giving me two Russian traders. They've seen what they say are American soldiers in the vicinity of Vietnam; not in Vietnam.”

“Your people say,” I said.

“They promised to put me in touch with the Russians if I took one more assignment. I did that and I'm meeting the Russians in Cambodia three days from now. They claim to have seen Boris in a Laotian fishing village somewhere along the Mekong.”

“Fishing village? That's rich. I'm glad you trust them,” I said.

“it's almost over, Clay. I've paid my debt to the devil. Now I'm going to get my brother. Give me a year, but I doubt it'll take that long.”

“I'll keep my knickers on until the end of next year. I won't make any promises after that, Ivan. I've waited long enough,” I said. “Find your brother and come home. It's all I ask.”

“The Russians represent the road to Boris,” he assured me. “Then I'll be home. Realize Boris is missing from a U.S. Army unit. He'll have to deal with them before I can bring him home.”

He patted my hand. He'd said what he had to say. Our time had run out on this visit.

As much as I hated to see him go, he would leave soon. I recognized the signs.

As quick as I docked the Sea Lab, Ivan would be in the wind. There was no telling when I'd see him again.

*****

“I bet Pop was surprised to see you,” I said, as I surveyed the bridge, ready to raise the anchor and get underway.

Ivan stood behind me with his arms around me. I set course for the cove. Daylight was fading. It was dark at the marina already but the light in the western skies over the Gulf remained visible.

The water was smooth as glass. We ran at three quarter throttle.

“I've got to be in Miami tonight. It isn't getting any earlier. I have arrangements to make.”

“You need to meet Dylan,” I said.

“You forget all those nights I was there while he was screaming at the top of his lungs. I've met your son.”

“He's nine years old. He doesn't scream any more. He is a big part of my life.”

His lips brushed under my right ear, sending chills through me.

“I'll meet him my next time home. I'll bring earplugs.”

“He's smart and he's at the center of my life, Ivan. You've been gone a long time. Things will be different when you come back.”

“We'll deal with that when the time comes,” he said, kissing the nape of my neck.

I knew what he wanted but he needed to get to Miami.

“He remembers you from when he was five. He woke up when you put him in his bed one night. He's asked about you.”

“A five year old doesn't remember some stranger he's never seen before,” Ivan assured me.

“He remembers you. Asked me who you were. The picture of us on my bedside stand told him who you were. He didn't ask why you put him in his own bed, but I wouldn't be surprised if the subject comes up after you two meet officially.”

“At five? He remembers that? I hardly remember that. At five he was already all arms and legs.”

“At five,” I said. “I told you he's smart.”

“Why is a five year old kid sleeping in his father's bed anyway?” Ivan asked.

“His mother is dead. I'm all he's got. If he needs to climb into my bed at night because he's scared or lonely, so be it. I don't want him feeling alone. He does what he wants to do.”

“Ouch!” Ivan said. “He still sleeps in your bed if he wants?”

“From time to time he gets in my bed. Not very often these days. I think he wants to know he still can if he wants to. I never say anything about it when I get him up to go to school. It's no big deal.”

“Because Sunshine left him before he knew her?” Ivan asked.

“I'd say that's at the bottom of it. Mama and Lucy give him all kinds of attention, but they aren't his mother,” I said. “I'm the one he wants to spend his time with and I have the kind of job that keeps us together a lot when he isn't in school.”

“How the hell high are we up here? I can see Cuba. It's right over there,” Ivan said, pointing southeast.

“The bridge is twenty-four feet above the hull of the craft. The engine compartment and crew quarters are in a space eight feet high. The galley and the auxiliary lab are on the second deck and are another eight feet high. The third deck is the main laboratory, also eight more feet up to this deck with the bridge. We. We're maybe twenty feet above the water. Give me a nice view.”

“This thing is bigger than Dad's boat,” Ivan said, checking the instruments.

“Higher but not as long. Your father needs all that room behind him for the fish holds. We have one deck built on top of another. The bridge is the fourth deck. Our main purpose is marine biology, when Harry isn't using it to impress donors.”

“You sure have come up in the world, Mr. Olson. I remember that insecure fourteen year old kid who used to follow me around. Now look at you,” he said. “Captain Olson of the good ship Sea Lab.”

“I learned everything I know from you,” I said with admiration in my voice. “If not for you hard to say where I'd be.”

“You don't give yourself enough credit, Clay. I may have led you to the water's edge, but from the first time we went out on my father's boat, your future was in the sea. You got where you are without my help.”

“Hard to believe it was a straight line from there to here. One day I was pulling fishing nets on the Vilnius Two and now I'm a marine biologist working off the Sea Lab.”

“I'm proud of you. When I think of all I missed out on, watching you make something of yourself, I know it's time to come home.”

“Thank you, Ivan. That's a nice thing to say.”

At the entrance to the cove, I cut back on the throttles and the engines rumbled under us. The water gurgled loudly near the exhaust.

“I need to get dressed. I'll make you a promise. Once I find Boris, I'm going to make up for lost time. I'm going to make you so sick of me, you'll want me to take a trip somewhere. I'll never leave you again, Clayton Olson.”

It was all I could do to keep from collapsing in tears. It's the kind of thing I'd wanted to hear for a long time, but I wasn't a boy any longer. I'd wait. I had no alternative, but it wouldn't be easy.

“I wish you luck, Ivan. Find your brother and come home. We'll see if we can't put something back together again, but first you need to get your pants on.”

*****

Ivan set my air tanks in the trunk of my car as we stood in the empty parking lot of the marina.

“You've really taken care of Teddy's car,” Ivan said, standing back to admire it under the light pole near the pier.

“He drives a Cadillac now,” I said. “He laughed when I offered to give it back to him. He owns a business in Orlando and has four kids.”

“That's right, he's Teddy Olson again. Carter did good,” Ivan said. “I'm glad Teddy caught a break. I thought of him when I heard Carter was letting the war resistors come home.”

“Yes, he did. Good men often do good things,” I said.

I held both of his hands and looked into his eyes as we stood between our cars. I stared at the man who had grown up in Ivan's skin. He was ruggedly handsome. He oozed manliness. The smell of him penetrated to my loins. Pure Ivan intoxicated me to the core and I did love him so.

I wanted to grab him, hold him, never let go.

His hands gently swallowed mine. We looked at each other like two teenagers back from our first date.

There was so much I had to say.

“I'd stand here all night just to smell you, but you've got to go. You've got places to go and fish to fry, and my son's waiting for his daddy. Good luck, Ivan. I hope I'll see you again.”

Having already opened my door, I slid into the driver's seat. He stayed next to my door, leaning those manly hands on the open window, unable to break the connection.

I needed to get away from him now. I wanted to escape. The tears weren't far from my eyes.

I fumbled with my keys to start the Chevy.

The worst days of my life were the best days, when Ivan came home. The entire time I knew he was going to leave me again.

It's a pain I lived with. I was resigned to it. This time it was even worse.

I tried to start the engine again, grinding the starter against the running engine.

He was still leaning on the car door window when I shifted into reverse, looking behind me.

I backed out and left him standing there. I was going to cry and he wasn't going to see it. The tears were flowing before the Chevy's tires hit the highway. I didn't look back.

My vision became blurred by the time I rounded the curve that pointed me towards home. I eased the car to the shoulder to stop.

I cried. It was ten minutes to the house but I'd be a long time getting home tonight.

Ivan came home today.

*****

This is how it was when Ivan came home. He left me feeling empty. He left me feeling drained. He left me one more time.

I'd cried a lot of tears since the first time he left me.

Chapter 6

About Boris

The summer of '68 was one of celebration and perfection on our beach. My life was perfect. I'd just graduated from high school and I turned eighteen and I did it beside Ivan. He went everywhere and did everything with me.

Our futures were laid out straight ahead of us. I was already training under Bill Payne to be the Sanibel Island Conservancy's marine biologist. I'd start academic studies in the fall to acquire my degree in five years. Ivan would fish with his father and remain at my side when he wasn't at sea.

Ivan was also troubled by the condition of the Gulf of Mexico and we talked about him being part of my studies, while he worked as a fisherman for his father on the Vilnius Two.

Ivan and I had a lot of time together the summer we graduated from high school. Studying with Bill Payne, diving, working at the conservancy had me reducing my fishing days to three a month. Once my academic courses began in Fort Myers, I'd give up fishing and devote myself to becoming a marine biologist.

After school let out, we dove together every day for two weeks. We were celebrating finally having lives of our own. I bought identical SCUBA gear for both of us, using the money in the jar on the fridge in the kitchen.

Harry McCalister, my benefactor and candidate for the U.S. Congress, gave me unconditional use of the fourteen foot runabout for diving. He'd moved it to a slip his father had rented at the marina for convenience. It was a convenient summer for my lover and me.

We drove a lot that summer in Teddy's 1956 Chevy. Fort Myers, the Glades, Miami, and two trips to Key West.

No one was in a rush on the beach. I could leave Pop to mind the shop and my lab without a lot of notice. The summer you graduated from high school was filled with laughter and excitement, not to mention love. Ivan and I were doing it together. We expected to spend the rest of our lives together.

There was talk of a trip to Tulsa. I could look up my old friends. When I realized I felt no connection to Tulsa, we settled for Key West. It was closer.

I was free as a bird. My future was in the bag. Life was good. I never saw a reason why I couldn't hold up my end.

At eighteen, in love, and without a care in the world, Ivan was my priority. We talked about my future. We didn't know what came next. Life was a piece of cake for us.

That summer we came and went as we pleased. The world was our oyster.

Lucy was my little sister, cheerleader, best girl, and confidant. She gave good advice. At fourteen she was already smarter than anyone I knew. Luckily she liked working in the lab, cleaning up after me, and dotting every I and crossing each T.

Lucy was the first one to know Ivan and I were lovers. Her biggest regret, once she knew this bit of news, was she gave up her plans to marry Ivan. Lucy was in my corner and she stayed there.

No one else figured out that Ivan and I were in love. The fact we were inseparable was a clue. My future was falling into place. If you were in the right place at the right time, and I was, life unfolds in front of you.

Ivan's future wasn't as clearly defined as mine. Fishing for his father was cool but he didn't see it as his career. As smart as Ivan was, he could do anything he decided to do, but he wasn't in a hurry. Life didn't move all that fast on our beach.

Learning from Bill Payne wasn't anything like going to school. He taught me things I wanted to know and our classroom was the Gulf of Mexico. Our studies took us underwater and Bill knew where to go to give me the maximum benefit from his knowledge. After a dive, Bill and I talked for hours and then I wanted to know when we could do it all over again.

Even the English, history, philosophy, and sociology classes two days a week would be a breeze. Much of the studying was done at home and the classroom work was primarily discussion.

Gone was the confinement and regurgitation of facts in high school. While I had some pretty good teachers who cared about their kids, many of them could have doubled as prison guards. The exercise of complete control was obsessive at Madison High, but I looked at it from a students perspective..

Why the need to tamp down originality? We were kids. Give us courses meant to do nothing more than tickle our fancy. One or two classes meant to do nothing more than excite us and didn't require us to memorize things we were destined to forget.

Kids needed to be stimulated and offered a view of a world they could be passionate about. Filling our days with memorizing facts we were required to regurgitate on demand was a good way to lose the attention of students

We lived in a mass produced society that demanded cookie cutter results. We were on the assembly-line of life. Each of us got the same education, like it or not. We lived in the time of mind expanding drugs and education did its best to keep minds tightly confined to the government prescribed education.

We did have the same opportunity as everyone else. If you didn't respond to the cookie cutter approach, you could figure out for yourself what you wanted to do, if you didn't want to find yourself tangled in the wheels of the machine and it didn't stop for road kill.

I couldn't be sure if my mind worked or not at sixteen and seventeen. I was happiest when I was at sea. I wasn't sure what school taught me, but I was in the right place at the right time. Being a fisherman didn't require much schooling, but being a fisherman put me where I needed to be; in the Gulf of Mexico.

I stumbled into Harry McCalister at the right time. The rest was as easy as following my nose. My career choice was never in doubt once I met Harry. My future wasn't on the Gulf, it was in it.

I got an education that inspired me on the Vilnius Two. In the best classes, with the great teachers, you were all ears, wanting to soak it up, because it was rare. The sea was such a teacher for me.

Most days that summer started with Ivan and me doing trash pick up on the island beaches. When we were done with our day, we went by Pop's shop to give him a hand with whatever he was doing.

Somehow it all got done without an over abundance of planning. It became a model for how it would be done as my future became clear. It was still summer and there were sea oats to sow.

*****

This was my life directly after high school and before the news about Boris came. If it was possible to enjoy being underwater more than I did, Ivan was your man. We were both excited by the prospects of getting out in the gulf for a dive.

We were excited by everything that summer. We had a good life together and no one seemed to mind. I bought matching SCUBA gear and we went diving a lot. We had the world by the tail and nothing got in our way, until something did.

That summer turned hard about the time Ivan and I had to separate for the week. He'd be going fishing with his father and I'd be going to the conservancy to work for mine. It was time to get serious.

Mr. Aleksa had hired Arturo to replace me on the six day trips. No one had to say hiring Arturo was Kenny's idea. On the last Friday of each month, I went fishing. Mr. Aleksa scheduled the trip from Friday to Sunday, so I was away from work the least amount of time. He insisted on doing it and it kept me in touch with fishing.

Fishing was good that summer. There had been no major storms and the tropical storms churned things up enough to make fishing better than usual without keeping the Vilnius Two off the water. The fishing that kept Ivan and me together for years, now separated us as July was ending. My fishing days were numbered.

I'd been captivated by another facet of the Gulf.

Once Ivan was on shore, he knew where I'd be, and it didn't take him long to show up at the conservancy. Because I knew when they docked, I was waiting and ready to take off when Ivan showed up.

*****

In early August that year, on the Thursday I took off before the Friday fishing trip, I took Ivan to play Goofy Golf, get pizza, and go to the movies. We were still celebrating what a wonderful life we had.

Ivan won at Goofy Golf. He always did. We got a sausage and mushroom pizza. We went to see The Detective with Frank Sinatra. Ivan said it had a gay theme of sorts. Since there was nothing gay anywhere in our world, we decided to see it.

The story was set in New York City. Probably made it easier for Frank to get to work. I heard he was from Hoboken, New Jersey. Frank Sinatra had been out front on civil rights, which I liked. His music was OK. I didn't know anything about his acting.

I'd seen Von Ryan's Express a couple of years before. It was set in World War II. Every time Sinatra appeared on screen, I waited for him to break into song. He never did and I never did figure out what the movie was about.

As far as I was concerned, we could have skipped the lesson on being gay in New York City. It didn't appeal to me and Sinatra still didn't sing.

In one of the scenes the cops raided a trailer depot with trailers lined up side by side. The trailers were full of people. One gorgeous fifteen or eighteen year old kid boy stood out. The crowd surrounding him were older and more threatening.

The camera stayed on the youngster as arrests were made. Shame was administered, names taken, and the patty wagon was loaded. It was off to the pokey on the way to humiliation and ruin. Frank looked troubled as his fellow officers made queer jokes.

Gays were the lowest of the low in New York City, and that took some work from what I'd heard about New York. Gay people are being murdered. The cops are worried about the city's image.

Who knew there were gay people?

Good old Frank arrests the prime suspect. This is one crazy dude. He didn't know what day it was, but Frank knows he has his man when he giggles and laughs over the murders.

By the time Frank is done, the suspect is confessing to all the murders back to Lincoln and he's on the way to the chair.

'The devil made me do it,' isn't a good defense.

Frank's satisfied, promoted, and the darling of the press. The fact the murders continue is perplexing, but Frank's the only one that notices that little factoid. Until he follows up with one of the witnesses in the first murder. He knew the latest victim as well.

“You must admit that knowing two of six gay victims is something we need to follow up,” Frank tells him.

“Certainly, I understand. I had to kill them, you know. They wanted me to kill them.”

Who could have figured on two nut jobs in the same gay murder investigation? Frankly, Frank, I didn't even care. I was glad when it was over. The first mention of gay people in any media I consumed didn't impress me. The fact I was one created a quandary. There was one hot eighteen year old surrounded by drooling forty year old men and two gay men nuttier than a fruit cake. There seemed to be a theme in the depictions.

I wasn't impressed with Hollywood's version of being gay. We didn't see many movies and The Detective was a good reason why I wasn't in a hurry to return.

I understood my love for Ivan was forbidden. People hated that Ivan and I loved each other. After seeing my first depiction of gay people, I think I'd hate me too if I didn't know myself so well.

“That was the biggest pile of crap I've ever seen piled in one place,” Ivan said. “They make gay men look like psychopaths and I haven't wanted to kill anyone all week.”

“When's the last time you heard anything about anyone who is gay?” I asked.

“You mean we aren't the only ones?” Ivan asked. “Do you think we might be a figment of someone's imagination?”

“Exactly! We're a rumor someone is spreading,” I said.

“I don't need a name for what I feel. Why call it anything but love? And where were the gay woman? Aren't there gay women?” Ivan asked. “If men are gay aren't there gay women? Biologically speaking, there should be a balance of some sort.”

“One would think. Where do drag queens fit?” I asked, not sure.

“Aren't they men who dress up?” Ivan asked. “There should be a class on this stuff. That movie confused what I thought I knew. None of those people were normal, especially the cops.”

“We're nothing like any of those people,” I said. “Maybe we aren't gay?”

“We're in a gay relationship. We're guys. I suppose we'd be called gay by people who keep track of such things,” Ivan explained. “Doesn't seem to cover much. The only thing gay about me is the fact I sleep with the most incredible man I've ever know. I could be prejudiced. You are the only man I've slept with.”

“I don't know gay describes us. I've never been in the back of a trailer. Nothing in that movie made me feel particularly gay.”

“I agree,” he said.

The movie sucked big ones but that was the first time Ivan and I talked about what to call what we felt for each other. What it might mean. I feared talking about my feelings. I wasn't sure what to say. If that movie was supposed to say something about Ivan and me, boy was it way off base. So maybe we were a different kind of gay men.

Teenagers aren't that well informed about feelings or sex. We were advised to avoid both until we were old enough to understand. At my house, when it came to sex, the overriding opinion was don't do it if it can be avoided.

My parents had six kids. That meant they didn't avoid it. I don't know what Mama thought John-Henry was doing with all those girls he brought home, I have no idea. In spite of the blackout on information imposed on us, I knew why John-Henry brought all those girls home. He was hoping to get lucky. I Knew the mechanics in the deal but what I knew I picked up by trial and error.

What I knew didn't tell me much. Ivan and I figured out we loved each other without any trouble and it was too late on the having sex deal. That boat sailed the year before. I didn't know if we were doing it right but neither of us had any complaints. If there was something we didn't know, or weren't doing, I hadn't noticed. Ivan and I figured the sex thing out without any coaching. That was good because I was bashful.

We'd been forced to take a look at ourselves and we discovered we were OK. We weren't so sure about the people who made that movie. There was no welcome mat for Ivan and me but we created our own support. Whatever that movie was about, it wasn't about us.

I didn't know how Ivan and I fit into the larger picture. We knew we didn't fit into the picture we saw.

Ivan held my hand as I drove toward home. He knew I was made uncomfortable by the movie. I tried to keep my eyes on the road. I resisted the idea of pulling over and practicing our technique.

*****

By the time we'd sorted through the complicated look at some very unhealthy people, we were pulling into Ivan's driveway. I had to pull over and park between the trees. His father's truck was there, which was normal for Thursday before going fishing on Friday.

There was a large red Buick convertible, top down, parked in the middle of the driveway. I'd have blocked the Buick in if I parked in the driveway. That sucker was a rolling roadblock.

Ivan was out of the car and standing beside the Buick when I caught up with him.

“It's my mother's new car,” he said. “She just bought it.”

“You're mother's here? At the beach she hates?” I said, thinking I was finally going to see Mrs. Aleksa.

Ivan was gone. I crossed the basketball court and Ivan was no where to be seen. What was his hurry? I had to practically run to catch up with him and he was faster than me.

What did he know that I didn't know? I didn't think he liked his mother all that much.

The door to the kitchen shut as I reached the steps. That's when I thought something might be wrong. Why was his mother here?

I didn't hear anything. I hurried through the door and nearly knocking Ivan down. He'd stopped two feet inside. I didn't know what was going on. I stepped to Ivan's right, coming face to face with Mr. & Mrs. Aleksa, who stood on the opposite side of the kitchen table.

No one said anything. It was like a standoff.

Ivan was looking at his mother and then he turned his head to

look at his father.

I stood there like a dork, still taking it all in.

Mrs. Aleksa was all in red. It looked like something she might wear to work. I figured that's who the woman was. I'd never seen her. Her red jacket topped off a tight red skirt that ended just above her knees. She had a white silk blouse with ruffles down the front. There was fine black piping on the tip of the ruffles. There were black buttons on the blouse. Mrs. Aleksa did not shop at Sears.

Her face was without any expression I could read in the five seconds I looked at her, and I looked because it's where Ivan was looking. I took an extra second because I'd never seen her before. She looked past Ivan at me. She didn't look happy, mad, sad, glad, or anything else I could identify, which surprised me. She'd never seen me before. I'm sure she knew who I was.

She stood on one leg, the right, her left knee was bent slightly. She had on glossy black high heels. They went well with her outfit.

'How the hell do you walk across the sand in high heels?' I wondered but didn't ask.

I'd call her posture stern. If they'd been fighting she hid it well.

That's when I looked at Mr. Aleksa. He came into focus for the first time. His face was drawn, having closed in on itself. His eyes were tiny slits, almost closed. If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd taken a recent beating.

His weather beaten face showed ten extra years of wear since I'd seen him that morning. If I hadn't known him I wouldn't have recognized Mr. Aleksa.

Had he been crying? It was then I saw the tracks where tears had run on his cheeks. There were heavy lines that ran from his forehead, right across each eye. I'd never seen a sadder face.

I'd been in the kitchen ten seconds and I'd seen more than I usually picked up in a week. What was going on?

When I heard Ivan, I nearly jumped out of my skin. The sound began in his stomach and climbed into his throat before bursting out of him. The scream was primordial.

There was only one word as he shrunk in front of me. His fists tightened. His head moved forward on his neck at an impossible angle. Every muscle in his body was part of his scream.

“No!” just kept erupting from him in a word that was a river.

He was gone by the time I realized that the noise came from him. I was frozen by the scene, trying to understand what was going on. I wanted to go after Ivan. I was paralyzed with confusion.

I couldn't put the pieces together. I'd been there all of fifteen seconds. Ivan shot out of there like a wounded animal.

I was looking at Ivan's mother again. She looked back at me. I looked into Mr. Aleksa's face again, fearful of what I was about to learn. I felt the fear without having a reason to be fearful.

“Boris,” he said in one agonized word that may have been a prayer.

It's all it took for everything to fall into place.

Not Boris!

Boris was one of the most beautiful guys I'd ever seen. The fact he was identical to Ivan explained it, but why would anything happen to someone with so much going for him? He had his entire life to beguile the world in which he lived.

I wasn't so much thinking about it as I was struck dumb by what happened in that room. With nothing being said the lives of the Aleksas would never be the same.

I was out the door a half second after I knew what the meeting was about. Ivan must have suspected even before he entered the kitchen. It took a couple of seconds for his suspicions to be confirmed.

I knew Mr. and Mrs. Aleksa had no use for each other. I'd never seen them together. At least she'd come to inform him about their son. He'd taken it hard.

It wasn't difficult to track Ivan. His shoes were just outside the door, one than the other, one sock, the other, his shirt and then his pants. The clothes led to the point of sand beside the river.

I went to where he sat rocking, holding his knees to his chest.

He sobbed softly as he rocked.

I sat, putting my arms around him. He collapsed into me and he cried for a very long time.

*****

My legs were completely covered by the water by the time he stopped crying and sat up. It was dark and we sat looking into the blackness. There was no moon and not a single star. I put my arm around him and he turned his head to look at me.

He said nothing. What was there to say?

What could I say to him? I wasn't going to say something lame. I was there and I'd stay there as long as he needed me.

*****

Ivan stopped talking. He had nothing to say at all. I would talk to him. He said nothing. I'd never seen anyone in so much pain. I wasn't sure where we were going but I held him and stayed beside him, and when he cried I comforted him as best I could.

Two weeks after the news about Boris came to the beach, Mr. Aleksa wanted to go find his son. Boris was an MIA. He wasn't KIA. The difference might have been semantics, but no one could prove Boris was dead of his wounds. He had been wounded in a firefight in northwestern Vietnam.

In a move that shocked me, Mrs. Aleksa brought a letter to the beach that came from the boy Ivan thought was in love with Boris. Boris brought him and another boy home to Tampa before they left for Vietnam.

“Thank you, Mother,” Ivan said, and they hugged.

“When you're ready, come to Tampa. Or call me. I'll come for you, Ivan.”

“Next week, Mother. I'll come next week. Clay will bring me.”

Ivan had spoken. He said nothing before that.

He'd be going to Tampa next week. I'd be driving him. There was nothing said about when he might return from Tampa. There was nothing else said. Ivan had nothing else to say.

We sat together watching the Gulf.

Later, when Ivan was ready for it, he handed me the letter.

“Do you mind reading it to me, Clay?” he asked. “It'll be easier if you read it.”

We stayed on the deck. I sat to his right and opened the letter. It was addressed to, and the letter began, “Dear Mrs. Aleksa.”

“You may remember me. Boris called me Big Boy. I came to your apartment with him after boot camp,” the boy explained.

The wording indicated he was writing about someone he had a special attachment to. Only someone deaf and blind would miss the affection he had for Boris. The letter took him some time to write. It was nine handwritten pages. Luckily he had good penmanship.

The letter told about the day they were out on patrol, engaged in a firefight, and they were eventually overrun by North Vietnamese troops in Quang Tri province, fewer than ten miles from the DMZ and not far from Cambodia. The area was known to be hot, and I didn't think he was talking about the weather.

Boris was wounded during the initial exchange of fire. It was estimated a third of the American force was killed or wounded in the first ten minutes. We'd walked into a well coordinated ambush and a force more than twice the size as ours.

The writer of the letter tried to reach Boris to drag him to safety, where he could receive medical help. The NVA made a charge and overran the American position and Big Boy was wounded without being able to reach Boris.

Boris had been wounded in the right shoulder and right arm. He could see that Boris was breathing but he was unconscious.

The American force withdrew, putting the entire North Vietnamese force between them and Boris. Withing in a few hours the American force regrouped and retook the ground they'd lost, but the NVA had faded back into the bush, which is how they fought. Boris was never seen again. He wasn't among the bodies or the other wounded taken out by helicopters.

The rest of the letter was about the writer's hospitalization and discussions he had with his buddies about what happened to Boris. No one could answer the question. Of all the wounded and dead from the firefight, Boris was the only missing man. Everyone else had been accounted for.

Several of Boris' friends searched for him without being given permission to undertake such a mission. There efforts were unsuccessful. Some of Boris' buddies volunteered to mount a larger search, fearing he'd crawled off and was lying somewhere in the nearby bush. They had no success either.

Boris' company was reassigned out of the area the following day.

Boris was officially listed as an MIA.

“He was wounded, probably seriously,” I said. “I didn't read anything that indicated his wounds were life threatening. It's possible he's out there somewhere.”

“He's in Vietnam, Clay. Vietnam is life threatening,” Ivan said.

The letter offered hope that Boris hadn't been killed. His whereabouts were a mystery. His friends thought he could still be alive. For Ivan's sake, I hoped they were right.

Should a greater effort be made to find him by the people who sent Boris there? Is there a responsibility to return a man to where he came from? Does a simple shoulder shrug suffice?

I had no answers to my questions. I doubted our government did either. The letter said that an effort was made to find Boris by the people who knew him. They left the area without making contact with Boris.

That had to be enough. It's all there was.

*****

I took Ivan to Tampa the following week. He said nothing about when he would return. He said nothing. He didn't invite me in.

Mr. Aleksa left the slip at the marina on the Vilnius Two the day I took Ivan to Tampa. Kenny and Arturo went with him. He didn't return. His eldest son had been taken from him. I couldn't imagine his pain. Mr. Aleksa's refuge was the sea. He retreated into it.

Captain Popov would tell me all I'd ever know about where Ivan's father went.

*****

My life was on track and my future was assured. In less than a minute in Ivan's kitchn it all changed.

I was left bewildered.

Chapter 7

Sunshine in the Rain

Ivan stopped talking. He had nothing to say. I would talk to him. He said nothing. I'd never seen anyone in so much pain. I wasn't sure where we were going but I held him and stayed beside him.

Two weeks after the news about Boris came to the beach, Mr. Aleksa wanted to go find his son. It seems Boris was an MIA. He wasn't KIA. The difference might have been semantics, but no one could prove Boris was dead of his wounds. He had been wounded in a firefight in northwestern Vietnam.

In a move that shocked me, Mrs. Aleksa brought a letter to the beach that came from the boy Ivan thought was in love with Boris. Boris brought him and another boy home to Tampa before they left for Vietnam.

“Thank you, Mother,” Ivan said, and they hugged.

“When you're ready, come to Tampa. Or call me. I'll come for you, Ivan.”

“Next week, Mother. I'll come next week. Clay will bring me.”

Ivan had spoken. He'd be going to Tampa next week. I'd be driving him. There was nothing said about when he might return. There was nothing else said. Ivan had nothing else to say.

We sat together watching the Gulf.

Later, when Ivan was ready for it, he handed me the letter.

“Do you mind reading it to me?” he asked. “It'll be easier if you read it.”

We stayed on the deck. I sat to his right and opened the letter. It was addressed to, and the letter began, “Dear Mrs. Aleksa.”

“You may remember me. Boris called me Big Boy. I came to your apartment with him after boot camp,” the boy explained.

The wording indicated he was writing about someone he had a special attachment to. Only someone deaf and blind would miss the affection he had from Boris. The letter took him some time to write. It was nine handwritten pages. Luckily he had good penmanship.

The letter told about the day they were out on patrol, engaged in a firefight, and they were eventually overrun by North Vietnamese troops in Quang Tri province, fewer than ten miles from the DMZ and fewer from Cambodia. The area was known to be hot, and I didn't think he meant the temperature.

Boris was wounded during the initial exchanged of gunfire. It was estimated a third of the American force was killed or wounded in the first ten minutes. The writer of the letter tried to reach Boris to drag him to safety, where he could receive medical help. The NVA made a charge and overran the American position. He was wounded before he could reach Boris.

Boris had been wounded in the right shoulder and right arm. He could see Boris breathing but he was unconscious. The American force withdrew, regrouped, and retook the ground they'd lost, but Boris was never seen again. He wasn't among the bodies or the wounded taken out on helicopters.

The rest of the letter was about the writer's hospitalization and discussions he had with his buddies about what happened to Boris. No one could answer the question. Of all the wounded and dead from the firefight, Boris was the only missing man. Everyone else had been accounted for.

Several searches for Boris were unsuccessful. Some of Boris' buddies volunteered to go on an additional search, fearing he'd crawled off and was lying somewhere in the nearby bush. They had no success. Boris' company was reassigned out of the area.

Boris had officially become an MIA.

“He was wounded, probably seriously,” I said. “I didn't read anything that indicated his wounds were life threatening.”

“He's in Vietnam, Clay. Vietnam is life threatening,” Ivan said.

The letter offered hope that Boris wasn't dead. His whereabouts were a mystery. His friends thought he was alive.

Should a greater effort be made to find him by the people who sent Boris over there? Is there a responsibility to return a man to where he came from? Does a simple shoulder shrug suffice?

I had no answers to my questions. I doubted our government did either. The letter said that an effort was made to find Boris by the people who knew him. They left the area without making contact with Boris.

That had to be enough. It's all there was.

*****

I took Ivan to Tampa the following week. He said nothing about when he'd return. He didn't have anything to say.

Mr. Aleksa left the slip at the marina on the Vilnius Two the day Ivan went to Tampa. He took Kenny and Arturo with him.

He didn't return.

It was confusing but I thought I understood. Mr. Aleksa's refuge was the sea. He'd retreated into it.

I suppose I was getting old and set in my ways. I didn't know when Ivan came home. Bringing those people home from Tampa with him, didn't help.

I had no interest in meeting a bunch of strangers or being in Ivan's house with them. They were living in the house next to the river. They were living in our house and sleeping in my bed.

When I found out Ivan was drinking, I wasn't about to tell him it was OK with me. It wasn't. I understood he was hurting and trying to numb the pain was natural, but putting a half dozen people in between us wasn't OK. With them drinking, it really wasn't OK.

I didn't like it and I wouldn't live that way. I wanted to be with Ivan. I wanted to be there for him, but I wasn't going to sacrifice my well being to allow him to act like a child.

I suppose they were hippies, flower children, kids who gave up on what society had to offer, especially its wars. I understood most kids felt that going to another man's country to kill the people living there wasn't their bag, even if it that's how society worked.

Powerful countries overrunning weaker countries and when the people there objected, well, they need to learn their manners and who better to teach them than their overlords. I suppose there had always been hippies too, disapproving of the way of things.

I'd do anything for Ivan but I wouldn't watch him self-destructing. I wouldn't go along with it. I felt terrible about Boris. I cared for him. Both times I'd seen Ivan lose control of himself over the four years I'd known him, it was over Boris.

I wanted to love Ivan openly, but that wasn't allowed either. When he brought home an audience to witness our love, I was offended. I wasn't putting on a show for anyone, especially knowing how our love was seen by most people.

It wasn't going to happen no matter how many times Ivan asked me to make love with him. He smelled like liquor and no matter how much I loved him, that left me cold. It's why I think Ivan left me, even before he went in search of Boris. I didn't want to be left, but that was far more admirable than him spending his time drinking.

These may have been perfectly nice people, but they were in the house I called home, which meant I was no longer at home there. So, I'd left Ivan before he'd left to find Boris.

Why I felt the way I did, I can't say, but my feelings were as strong as any I'd had. I told Ivan to come see me when he quit drinking, which he did in early October and we spent two days making love before he told me his plan and then dropped Sunshine in my lap.

“When you get time, after you drop me at the bus station today,” he said, leaning on one elbow and looking at me in the first glimmer of morning light, “Go up to the house and get rid of Sunshine for me. She's decided she likes me. She came back to be with me the afternoon I came here. It'll be easier if you do it,” Ivan said, in the middle of the best sex we'd had in ages.

When he began kissing me again, I forgot about whatever it was he asked me to do for him. Something about a girl.

That's how I became responsible for Sunshine. I had no feelings about telling her no one was home and I was closing the house up for Ivan and she'd have to go.

Sunshine was one of the hippies and she couldn't stay alone in the house next to the river. It was in the middle of no where and Ivan had gone.

Going up there slipped my mind. It's not like I didn't have anything to do. I thought of it on the way back from Fort Myers, after leaving Ivan at the bus station, but my Tuesday were hectic and so it was Wednesday before I got around to it. How much harm could a girl do in a day?

Ivan was proud of himself. He'd stopped drinking and all the hippies were gone, except, he informed me at half time, one came back and would I take care of it for him.

How did you get rid of a girl who liked your lover without being a total jerk about it, even if she was in my house, and come to find out, in my bed?

As much as I knew and as fast as I was learning, this would be another instance to prove how little I knew about anything. My mind was made up and I was on my way to do what needed to be done. I could drive her somewhere. It wasn't like I was throwing her out on the street. There was no street. I'd walked that beach thousands of times. I didn't even think about Ivan being gone as I walked it again.

'Later gator. You got to go, Jo,' is how I saw it going, as I walked toward the house next to the river.

Mama was cooking dinner and hadn't said anything when I went out. I'd told her Ivan had gone to find Boris. She didn't know about the girl. I'd just slip her out of town before she found out.

I could do this. I didn't know why Ivan didn't do it himself.

*****

I'd often wondered if there might be some kind of a design to my life. Not like Mama saw God's hand in everything. Like when I came to the beach in the first place and I discovered Ivan.

Ivan and I became close friends. Ivan's father was a fisherman. His father took me fishing with them. The sea creatures I encountered on the deck of his boat fascinated me. The fascination led me to Harry McCallister who decided my interest in the Gulf of Mexico could be put to work to take the conservancy where he wanted to take it.

Did everyone's life offer the opportunity to work in a field they loved? I didn't think so. Were the events that led me to where I was random occurrence, just the way it turned out for me. Was there a design in play all the time?

Now I worked where Pop worked. We left Tulsa because this was the only job he could find, after being laid off. It was this or stay in Tulsa and lose everything.

There was a straight line from Tulsa to the life I was living on the beach. It was as if this was where I was meant to be. My life began to take shape, and what I did at the conservancy wasn't so much work as it was doing something that fascinated me.

None of this was on my mind when I was on my way up the beach to toss out the last of Ivan's hangers-on. I was still angry that Ivan left me. It didn't help my disposition. The girl was in my house. I should be angry and she should leave.

I'd taken Ivan to the bus station the day before. Today I'd evict the girl and close up the house. I lived at the conservancy house now.

I'd be nice. I'd offer to get her back to where she came from or wherever she wanted to go. I could do that without giving it a second thought. I had no responsibility to do more. My mind was made up before the afternoon I walked up the beach to dispose of Sunshine.

It seemed simple when I ran the plan through my head. It was a plan. I didn't always have a plan for what I'd do. I just did what I did.

I went into the house through the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to check its condition on my way upstairs. There was a turned over jar, no top, with two olives inside. There was an open empty jar of mayonnaise with a knife in it beside an open empty jar of peanut butter. There was a spoon in an empty jar of grape jelly.

This was my refrigerator and I recognized none of the contents. Who put peanut butter in the fridge? Who ate everything?

I took the stairs two at a time and came out in the bedroom. My bedroom, mine and Ivan's, and seated in the middle of our bed was Sunshine, eyes closed, and legs crossed. She did not move or open her eyes when I entered the room. She had to hear me.

“You're Sunshine?” I said, thinking she'd recognize her name.

She was the only girl in sight and Ivan said a girl was still at the house and he didn't know what to do with her, would I take her somewhere. I didn't know where but she couldn't stay there.

Her hair was the blond that doesn't come out of a bottle. It was several shades lighter than my hair, except I spent most of my days inside now. I was outside enough to keep the gold in my tan. There was no doubt Sunshine didn't go outside. She was paler than pale and this made her vivid blue eyes even more remarkable, when she opened them.

“I was hoping it was Ivan,” she said, as if she was expecting him. “He went to get his brother yesterday. I thought he was back,” she informed me.

“He went to Iowa,” I said.

“That's near Orlando?” she asked.

“No. It's between Illinois and Nebraska,” I explained. “Up North.”

“Oh, near Atlanta then?”

“No. Are you OK?” I asked, concerned for her state of mind and realizing there was nothing to eat in the house.

“Fine. Hungry. I ate the last bag of potato chips yesterday. I think it was yesterday. I used to like them, but when it's all you have, they aren't very good.”

“Would you like something to eat?” I asked as her eyes closed again.

“Yes, that'd be cool. They pigged out on the food and left me with chips when they split. I am hungry.”

“Why'd they split?” I asked, not sure Ivan told me everything.

Sunshine looked me over for a few seconds, deciding I was harmless.

“Dakota hit Ivan,” she said slowly, knowing there would be more questions.

“Why would a guy hit the guy giving him a place to stay?”

“Dakota's a hothead. He got mad and punched Ivan in the face.”

“And Ivan did what?”

“It was totally awesome. Ivan was flat on his back on the floor. He sprang up like a cat. Then Dakota was on the floor. Boom, boom, boom, you've never seen hands as quick as Ivan's. Dakota sure hadn't. Ivan could be a fighter. He told Dakota to get his out of his house, and we left.”

“You went with him. How'd you end up back here?” I asked.

“I liked Ivan. I was afraid of Dakota. The fight started when Dakota hit me in front of Ivan. Ivan told him not to do it again and Dakota hit Ivan. When I got a chance, Dakota fell asleep the first night, I split back here. Ivan said he was leaving. He told me you'd be up to check on me. He said if I was really nice, you'd see I got something to eat.”

“Here I am. Come on,” I said. “You're in luck. My mother will have dinner ready soon. You can eat with us tonight. Then I'll take you somewhere that you'll be safe and get fed regularly,” I said, feeling bad I didn't come up the day Ivan left.

I held out my hand and Sunshine leaped for it. Maybe it was the idea I was taking her somewhere to eat, but I don't think so. I think Sunshine was frightened of being alone.

The top of her head didn't reach my shoulder. As we went down the stairs, she didn't let go of me, moving with me as we reached the kitchen and went out the back door. I'd go back later and close the house.

We walked down the beach without speaking. She had no trouble keeping up with me, but my legs were way longer than hers. She held onto my hand as we went into the kitchen of the conservancy house.

“Hey, Mama. I brought company for dinner. Do we have enough for one more? I don't think she's eaten this week.”

Mama swung around from the stove to take a look and she saw Sunshine for the first time. She saw her hand in my hand. I could see Mama's mind working on the image.

“My goodness, what a pretty girl, Clay. Did you get her out of the Gulf?”

“No, Ma'am. Ivan left her at his house. I told him I'd help her. She doesn't have anywhere to go, Mama,” I said, filling Mama in.

“My word! She does look like she could use a good meal,” Mama said. “She can't stay up there alone. What's your name, dear.”

I nudge Sunshine, figuring it was time she spoke for herself.

“Sunshine. My name is Sunshine. I don't want to be a bother. I thought Ivan would be back by now,” she said. “I am hungry though. That sure smells good.”

“Maybe he'll be back around Christmas time but I'm not sure he'll come home then,” I said. “He wasn't too definite about his plan.”

“He's a determined young man. He's smart. If he can do anything for his brother, he will,” Mama said. “Now we'll need to do something for Sunshine. What a lovely name. Clayton, my sewing room on the third floor? Go up and put my sewing basket and yarn in the closet. There's a day bed in there. She can sleep there for the time being. She can't stay at the Aleksa's alone. I won't allow it.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, not seeing this turn of events coming. Mama had spoken.

The idea of getting rid of Sunshine that day was left at the kitchen door. Mama wasn't going to allow that either. Mama's sewing room was right next to my bedroom. Did she realize that?

“Would you like to take a shower? It'll be an hour before dinner is on the table,” Mama said. “You have plenty of time for a shower. Take her upstairs with you and show her the bathroom, Clay. Get her a towel and some soap. She shouldn't use that stuff you use. Get her a bar of soap out of my bathroom closet.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said. “Come on, Sunshine. We'll get you squared away. It'll be a few minutes until dinner time.”

I took a banana off the counter and handed it to Sunshine. As I stepped toward the door to the dining room, Sunshine was still attached to my hand. This factoid Mama hadn't miss. She looked at the hands before looking at her face. Mama was seeing something I couldn't see, but I was just cleaning up after Ivan.

“Where's your room?” Sunshine asked as I showed her Mama's sewing room.

She put the banana skin in my hand.

“Right next door. That door goes to my room,” I said, pointing to the door. “It's locked and there are no keys to any of the inside doors in the house, but I'm right next door if you need anything. I'll run down and get a bar of Mama's soap for you,” I said, dodging out of the room.

When I brought the soap and a towel back for her, Sunshine was gone. The door between my room and Mama's sewing room was wide open. When I went through the open door, Sunshine was looking at the shells on top of my dresser.

“You collect shells? I love shells,” she said. “These are beautiful.”

“They mostly came from the mouth of the river next to Ivan's house,” I said. “I collected them when we first moved here.”

“There's a river next to Ivan's house?” she asked surprised.

“Yeah, you can't miss it. Didn't you go swimming?” I asked.

“No. I can't swim. I'm afraid of water,” she said.

“Afraid of water! Do you want a life jacket for your shower?” I asked, not even thinking about what I'd said.

Sunshine laughed. She had a beautiful smile and she absolutely beamed when she took my hand again. She was looking into my face, more studying it like she wanted to remember it.

“What's going on in here?” Lucy asked. “My brother trying to have his way with you? He's a real lady's man.”

“Oh, no. Clay's sweet. I'm Sunshine,” Sunshine said, letting go of my hand.

“Yes, you are. What a nice smile,” Lucy said. “I'm Lucy. You two dating? Who got the door open. Don't let me interrupt you guys. Mama said I should make sure you are comfortable.”

“We just met,” Sunshine said. “Dakota, the guy who was taking care of me, showed me how to pick locks. Clay said there was no key and the door couldn't be opened. I used my hair pin and opened it.”

“We won't mention you being able to pick locks to Mama,” I said. “We'll do a lot better if she doesn't know that little factoid. We won't pick any more locks while you're here, OK.”

“Sure. I thought I was helping. I'm sorry.”

“Don't mind him, Sunshine. He's not accustomed to having a pretty girl in his room. He's right about the lock picking talent of yours. Mama would definitely not approve.”

“OK! That's cool. No more lock picking.”

“So, now that you've let yourself into my brother's bedroom, what's next?” Lucy asked. “I'm taking notes for when I work my way into my boyfriend's room.”

“A shower,” Sunshine said. “I'd like a shower before dinner.”

“Where were you before my brother lured you into his bedroom, Sunshine?” Lucy asked.

Sunshine giggled once she realized she shouldn't take Lucy seriously.

“I was at Ivan's. He left. Clay came to help me. Your mother is going to let me sleep in her sewing room. You're all so nice.”

“Yes, and Mama will be a lot more comfortable if you close that door and don't bother to mention to her that it has been unlocked. A pretty girl having access to her youngest son might not be Mama's cup of tea, not until after the marriage. That'll keep things nicer,” Lucy said. “Where's your suitcase?”

“Don't have one. What you see is what you get. I don't have much. My parents put me out when I turned eighteen. Said it was time I made my own way in the world. It's not very easy being on your own. Not easy for me anyway.”

“Tell me about it. And you made your way here. Smart girl. I'm growing like a weed, and that's Mama's description of what's happening, not mine. The clothes I wore last year, when I was about your size, are almost new, but I didn't stop growing last year. I've outgrown them. I've got some things you might like. I love shades of blue and green. You'd make some of those things look better than they ever looked on me for the fifteen minutes they fit.”

“Clothes?” Sunshine said, sounding surprised.

“Come on. You can pick something out for after your shower. Unless you and Clay were going to,” Lucy said. “He is helpful that way.”

Sunshine giggled again. She got Lucy right off. They were holding hands as Lucy led Sunshine to her room and the closet with the clothes that no longer fit her.

The house had grown quiet. The only Olson kids still at home were Lucy and me. Sunshine was small but she had the ability to fill the house with her presence. She added something to the Olson house that made the Olsons smile. Sunshine fit in right off.

I'd never met a nicer girl and that's why I gave up the idea of disposing of Sunshine.

“This must be the best meal I've ever had,” Sunshine said, working on her second serving of chicken and dumplings, green beans, and yellow squash.

“When did you eat last, sweety?” Mama asked, already concerned about how thin Sunshine was.

“Oh, I had potato chips yesterday. I don't eat much, but I don't get food like this either. It's really good. Thank you.”

“The fridge is empty up there,” I said, rarely thinking before speaking.

“You didn't mention this why, Clayton?” Mam asked me. “When has that icebox ever been empty when I had anything to do with it?”

“I... don't know. It never was when I lived there. I was dealing with Ivan, Mama,” I defended. “I wasn't thinking about what was in the fridge. What was Ivan eating?”

“You weren't dealing with anything,” Mama said. “You were letting this child go hungry. I'm surprised at you. That's not like you.”

“No it isn't,” I said, having no defense for not seeing to it Ivan's friends didn't starve.

What were they eating? Then I remembered the beer and booze.

`“It's OK. I was fine. Ivan was nice to me. I didn't know he went to... Iowa? I thought he was going to get his brother and come back. That's what he said when he left. I've got to go get my brother. My friend Clay will come up to help you get situated.”

“Ivan just left Sunshine up there?” Pop asked, usually passing on such conversations, deferring to Mama's judgment. “Boy needs to have his head examined.”

“She came back just before he left. He went to see one of the boys who was with Boris when he was wounded. He asked me to take care of her,” I said, trying to make it sound better than it was. “I didn't know there wasn't any food up there.”

Mama glared at me and Pop looked over top of the chicken and dumplings as he dished up another helping. I had gotten myself into the Olson doghouse by being a perfect butt head. I was sorry now. I didn't know Sunshine was such a nice girl. They were all drunk when I was up there.

“You took Ivan to the bus station yesterday,” Pop continued with his line of thinking.

“Uh huh!” I answered, knowing he wasn't finished with me yet.

“Let me see if I understand this, son. You left this child up there by herself until this afternoon. Why was that?” Pop said with no pleasure in his voice.

“I guess I did,” I said. “I wasn't thinking.”

“Clay's sweet,” Sunshine made her move to defend me, sensing she'd somehow created the discord. “Ivan told me he was his best friend.”

“Sweet if a bit late,” Pop said. “You'll stay here with us until you have a place to go, Sunshine. We have plenty of room and plenty of food. If you want anything, just ask.”

“Yes, and there are a thousand things we can do,” Lucy said, having seen the possibilities coming from Sunshine's arrival.

“That outfit looks like it was made for you, Sunshine. We'll go through the clothes of things Lucy's outgrown. She's growing like a weed,” Mama said. “I can alter anything you like that doesn't fit.”

“Like a rose or maybe like an orchid would sound better, Mama,” Lucy said. “Don't give away anything I have on. She's sweet, but no one is that sweet. Don't be giving her my bedroom either.”

Sunshine giggled, knowing Lucy too well already. Mama wasn't so sure but she finally found the humor in it and laughed. She was gushing over the new arrival in the Olson family.

Lucy took the heat off me. This was one of Lucy's best things. It always had been. She made a habit of getting me out of hot water. She was quick and knew what to say to take the heat off me if things turned against me.

I had trouble getting my brain into gear under pressure and then the gear might be reverse. Lucy never missed a trick. She was fast on her feet and was able to rise to most challenges. She had a knack for knowing what to say in a pinch.

My parents weren't strict and they'd never been hard on me. There were a few things that got them angry. I didn't always know what those things were, until I was on the wrong end of an inquiry. Mostly I didn't intend to be a butt head, but I wasn't always successful. Pop made it clear that Sunshine would be staying with us. He may have gotten the idea from Mama.

Sunshine had begun to brighten our lives.

No one could replace Ivan but Sunshine helped keep my mind off his absence. The day I walked up the beach to get rid of her, was the day I actually began to grow up. My life had been broadened.

Chapter 8

Partly Cloudy

“Hey, Clay, It's for you,” Lucy yelled from the foyer.

“Who is it,” I yelled from the third floor landing.

“You're Aunt Hooty. Who do you think it is? It's collect and the meter is running, bucko.”

“Hi! How are you?” I asked, breathing hard after the four second dash downstairs. “You in Iowa?”

“Yes. I made it this morning.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“What's Iowa like?” I asked.

“It's corny. The stuff is everywhere.”

“Corn,” I said. “Kansas grew corn.”

This was how it would be. When he got somewhere new, he called to tell me how the search was going. Ivan told me about the last guy and how the trip to the new place went. I was all ears, waiting to hear he was coming home.

He liked to tell me what each man was like and what it was like where he lived. He'd often found a job before he went to talk to a guy from Boris' unit. This meant he didn't need to hurry. They could develop a relationship before the serious questions came up. The most important pieces of information often came out a little at a time.

Ivan never mentioned Sunshine. I saw no reason to mention that she was living with us. I wasn't sure what to say about it. He mentioned her one time and he asked me to take care of her. I did.

I felt good about Ivan staying in touch. It made it easier to work and study knowing he was OK and I didn't need to worry as much. Ivan was a big boy and he knew what he was doing. Waiting for him wouldn't be my best thing but I kept busy to keep my mind off him.

*****

One afternoon a few days later, coming home after a long day, I came in intending to catch a quick shower and a short nap before dinner. It was the first day that week I wasn't gone twelve hours.

When I came in the kitchen, the empty jar I'd left on my dresser had found its way into the middle of the kitchen table. I figured I wasn't going to have time to shower and to nap. Mama turned around from the stove to face me.

This was not going to go well.

“You want to explain that jar, young man,” Mama said, knowing exactly how this was going to go.

“No ma'am, not really. The money was used for a good cause. It's gone, Mama.”

“That was your college fund,” she said in dismay.

“I never agreed that's what that money was. That was the story you made up without me giving you my thoughts on it.”

“Where'd the money go?”

“It went for a good cause, Mama.”

“There was twenty-five hundred dollars in that jar the last time I counted it. What could you possibly spend that much money on?”

“Mama, I gave it to Ivan. I gave it to him to help him find Boris. I didn't know what else to do for him. I had to do something.”

“Marvin Clayton Olson, you gave all that money away? Let me tell you something, young man, twenty-five hundred dollars would have kept our home and made it possible for us to stay in Tulsa.”

It was twenty-six hundred and forty two dollars after my final fishing trip with Mr. Aleksa.

Boy, I was sure happy I didn't have that money then. My entire life would have been ruined if we'd stayed in Tulsa. Leaving there was the best thing that ever happened to me.

“You mark my words, one day you'll wish you had that money. One day you'll live to regret what you've done. You are a foolish boy and I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you. Go to your room. I don't want to talk to you.”

Maybe I would get the nap after all. The question at hand, would I get dinner?

That's when I said it and if I ever regretted anything, I regretted that.

“If Ivan comes back to me a day sooner because of that money, Mama, it is money well spent,” I said, leaving the kitchen.

If Mama hadn't suspected more than friendship was going on between Ivan and me before, she couldn't help but wonder now.

I wasn't quick on my feet and Lucy wasn't there to bail me out.

*****

When I walked into my bedroom through the wide open door, there were impediments to my plan to nap. Lucy and Sunshine were lying across my bed looking into one of those teen magazines. Sunshine had on a powder blue sun suit. Her pure white skin and deep blue eyes had her look radiant.

They were giggling about a bare chested Davy Jones cavorting through life in a made up story that had young girls in mind. Lucy was more mature than me. It didn't sound like Sunshine had much of a childhood, but this discrepancy stop either of them from acting like teenage girls.

I felt good when I saw Lucy and Sunshine doing girl things. The two Olson girls, Coleen being the first born, hadn't been close. Coleen hadn't been close to any one. Lucy's four brothers weren't a big help, although Lucy and I were closest among six kids.

Mama picked this time to come into my bedroom behind me. She carried a basket full of fresh underwear and socks. She immediately set the basket down and went over to see who the girls were ogling. “There goes my nap,” I said, not particularly happy my bedroom had become Grand Central girl's world.

Mama's attention was diverted from the picture of the 'half naked' Davy to the wide open door between my room and Sunshine's room. If ever the Lord was going to be trotted out, this was going to be the time.

This definitely was not my day. I should have stayed at work.

Mama walked over to turn the handle to see if it was unlocked. Then she cast a knowing glance in my direction. Mama walked back to the clothes basket without speaking. Another offense was recorded and would be brought up at a time and date of Mama's choosing.

“Your socks are threadbare. Clay. The next time you and your father go by Woolworth's, pick up a package of socks. You might want to pick up a package of tee-shirts too.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I picked up some lovely seafood at Piggly Wiggly. We're having seafood gumbo with hush puppies, fresh spinach, and my sweet potato casserole. Do you like sweet potatoes, Sunshine?”

“Oh, that sounds delicious,” Sunshine said. “My grandma used to fix gumbo when I went to her house in Louisiana. She was a good cook too. I liked going there.”

Sunshine knew how to score points. It did sound delicious. It was the kind of thing Mama liked fixing once we got to Florida. Once Mr. Aleksa began supplying us with fresh fish, the fish warehouse was a regular stop once or twice a week to get oysters, clams, crabs, or scallops. I didn't remember eating that well in Tulsa.

This was a nice change from the constant meat and potatoes we'd eaten as flatlanders and there were no complaints.

*****

None of us knew Sunshine was sick then. The Olson house was warmed by her presence. She was a delight to be around. Sunshine hadn't experienced much security in her young life. The grandmother in New Orleans took her when her parents couldn't take care of her.

Once she began sleeping in Mama's sewing room and eating at our table, there was no talk about her living elsewhere. This small girl had managed to replace my missing siblings without really trying.

Lucy, Mama, and Sunshine were steady companions often going out together. Lucy and Sunshine spent the evenings in one or the other's room, involved in girl talk, sending laughter throughout the house. I'd sit on the porch outside my bedroom reading, and I'd smile when their laughter came my way.

A few times, when I came in around six, too tired to take a shower and with no time to nap, Sunshine and I sat on the porch outside my bedroom watching the last of the fading light in the western sky before dinner. As October ended the days shortened.

Like so many other things that happened to me, there was no explaining Sunshine. It was what it was. My life hadn't gone all that well the last few months. Sunshine did her best to turn it around.

Just being with her restored some of my energy. She made me glad I was where I was. Her insecurity disappeared after a few days and Sunshine was happy.

We had become friends and I certainly needed one. I can't imagine what my life had been like if I hadn't brought Sunshine home.

I was sure glad my 'Later Gator,' plan got lost on the way back down the beach.

There came a time when I'd wake up and Sunshine would be in my bed holding onto me. When I began waking up the first time this happened, she said, “I was afraid. I wanted to be close to you.”

“You're safe here. I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you,” I said, putting my arms around her.

I kissed her forehead and fell back to sleep.

Ghosts haunted Sunshine. Even in the safest place she'd ever lived, the ghosts still haunted her dreams, dragging her back to the insecure life she'd once known. I would be there for her at those times, easing her back from the fear she arrived with.

I didn't ask what scared her. She never left an opening I felt comfortable exploring. It didn't seem like a good idea to ask her to discuss her past with me. If she felt like talking about it she would.

After the first time i woke up with her in my bed, I told her, “Ivan and I are lovers, Sunshine. Do you understand?”

Sunshine giggled and said, “I know. That's why I trust you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “How could you know that?”

“I really like Ivan. He went after Dakota for me. When I left Dakota, I went back to Ivan's to be with him. When he woke up to find me in bed with him, he told me the same thing. 'Clay and I are lovers, Sunshine. Do you know what that means?' I did. I told him it was cool. That's the day he told me he was leaving.”

“Ivan was here with me the last few nights before he left,” I said, remembering he'd sobered up and decided to go in search of Boris.

“This was in the afternoon. He liked to take a nap in the afternoon and I slipped into the bed with him once I got back to his house. I didn't want to wake him, Clay. It took a while for him to realize I wasn't you. He called me Clay and he kissed me.

I wished I was you. He's quite something. The way he held me. I hated he woke up. He's gentle, like you, but he's got deadly hands,” she giggled. “Ask Dakota about his hands. Ivan has a lot going for him,” she mused thoughtfully.

“So you don't think two guys being in love is strange?” I asked, not having any way to know what other people actually thought.

“There's only two kinds of people, Clay. It would be strange if guys didn't fall in love some times. I could grow quite fond of Lucy. It's not like the idea scares me. She's totally awesome and she's sweet and open. I can talk to her.”

“You sure have her pegged,” I said. “I'd be careful about telling her how fond you are of her.”

“Lucy and I talked about it. It's not such a big deal as you and Ivan make it. Where you find people, you'll find love. Only because they preach so vehemently against same sex love, you don't hear that much about it. I doubt it would be much of a deal if people minded their own business. If you don't want to love someone of the same sex, don't.”

“I won't if it isn't Ivan.”

“Why do some people worry so much about who someone else loves? Don't they have a life?” Sunshine asked.

“It's what some people do,” I said.

“They're miserable and want to make sure no one else is happy.”

“How'd you figure all this stuff out?” I asked. “I'm gay and I don't have any idea what it means. Ivan and I just saw a movie with gay people in it. It's enough to make you sick. I know you don't let it get around if you want to stay healthy.”

“I lived with two gay dudes once. My parents threw me out the first time when I was sixteen. Gay men are sweet. One cooked, cleaned house, and did laundry and the other one was a doctor. My boyfriend took me over there to see if they'd help me.”

“How'd he know they were gay?” I asked.

“He lived with them. His father hated him. He'd gone out with the two gay dudes a couple of times. When he told them he was on the street, they took him in and then they took me in.”

“I stayed a few months. I don't know what I'd have done if they didn't let me stay with them. Like your family, Clay. I don't know where I'd have gone.”

“I guess I don't know much about what's going on,” I said. “I thought all kids had families and places to live.”

“We're eighteen. We aren't supposed to know everything yet.”

“You sure know a lot more than I do,” I said.

“You've got really nice parents. My parents didn't like me or each other. You figure out the things you need to know pretty quick once you're on the street. That's what I know.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, feeling bad for her. “You're safe now.”

I Wanted to do more to make her feel secure. Being her friend was the best I could do. I didn't have many friends.

“I'm happier than I've ever been here with you. I live with the nicest people in the world. I love being here. You're all so nice.”

Sunshine squeezed my hand and leaned to kiss my cheek.

“Did the gay men treat you OK? How does that work? I mean you and your boyfriend living there.”

“Oh, yes. Both of them mothered me something fierce. They were nice. They worried about me. They didn't want me to leave.”

“So why did you leave?” I asked.

“Busy bodies. A eighteen year old girl living with three men is a subject of gossip. Someone said if I didn't disappear quick, the cops would be notified that an under age girl was being kept by three men. I didn't want to leave but I couldn't let them get in trouble.”

It was time for dinner before we got any deeper into Sunshine's story. My life had been a vacation compared to her's. My parents might have gotten upset with me from time to time, but I always knew they loved me.

I didn't know there were parents who didn't love and cherish their children. Why did they have kids if they didn't want to take care of them?

*****

November was a busy month. It felt like I was gone from the house all the time. I was running a sleep deficit. It seemed like I no sooner put my head on the pillow and my alarm went off.

I still drove twice a week to Fort Myers for classes. On Monday and Friday I was with Bill Payne and three other marine biology students. We dove, had classes in the conservancy laboratory, and if there was time, I scouted the beaches for trash or rubbish.

On Wednesday Bill and I dove alone in the afternoon. We spent an hour in the water, an hour discussing what we saw, and another hour in the water. We took the specimens we gathered back to the conservancy at about three and we discussed the two dives and Bill summed up what I should take away from the day with him.

Wednesday was my favorite day. Bill's teaching style was to my liking. He didn't demand I answer his every question, but he went over and over material he wanted me to know. Inevitably, there were few questions he hadn't conditioned me to answer. Seeing his warm easy smile when I answered them correctly was great.

We spent most of our time in the Gulf and in my lab, having discussions about what we were finding in the water.

Having a lab made me a curiosity with the other students. It gave me a leg up on the lessons we learned. Bill took advantage of the conservancy laboratory, bringing some of his work there rather than making the trip to the university's lab.

There were four hours in the afternoon on school days when I worked for Pop. The days I didn't go to school, I went to work at the conservancy at eight and got off at six. I worked six hours on Saturdays, picking up trash and monitoring the beaches.

When I wasn't working or going to school, I could be found in my lab doing homework and writing notes about my dives. These notes were concerned with the area around Sanibel Island.

When Harry, Bill, and I met to talk, it was these notes we talked about. The discussions covered what I found in the Gulf, the specimens I collected, and the changes I noticed. We often had similar discussions with the other three students.

When Harry came, I got to go over the details again with him. My work and schooling went hand in hand as my weeks were filled leading up to the holidays.

*****

At Thanksgiving I had four glorious days off. I slept late and went to bed early, but not until I got my fill of turkey with dressing, turkey with mashed potatoes, and turkey sandwiches with more turkey.

How I didn't gain a ton, I don’t know. I'd never enjoyed eating and sleeping so much as I did those four days.

Mama, Lucy, and Sunshine always had somewhere to go. They loved shopping together. Lucy was now working in the kitchen with Mama. She'd been doing food preparation to help out but Mama began teaching her to cook and Sunshine was learning too.

The three of them could spent hours in the kitchen. The results were often amazing. When I wandered into the kitchen looking for something to hold me over, I was sure to be scatted out like some miscreant cat looking to freeload.

If I was fast enough, I could pinch something on the way out. A growing boy has to eat and I liked seeing what was for dinner.

*****

Ivan called me twice over Thanksgiving weekend. He was invited to eat with a member of Boris' squad. He'd been in Duluth for a while. Kenny Blue had returned home that month on thirty days leave. Ivan said Minnesota was cold.

Ivan wanted to come home for the holiday. “But I don't want to spend the money. I'm working at the Dairy Queen. I eat there and crash on a couch of one of Kenny's friends.”

“Use the money I gave you. Come home, Ivan. You haven't spent it all?”

“It's in the bank. It's for emergencies. I'll think about it, Clay.”

I was cheerful and upbeat, hoping he'd come home to stay soon. He always said he wanted to come home, but he needed to find Boris more.

*****

Along with school and work, I was responsible for making sure Bill and Harry could make sense of what I was doing in the lab when they came. The really long days were the ones when one or both of them showed up and I didn't leave the lab until they did.

The things I found, the notes I took, and the conclusions I reached were made clearer once Lucy worked in the lab on Tuesday and Thursday after school.

She made sure things could be read and were easy to find. Lucy kept me organized and in the good graces of Bill and Harry, who both noticed when they could not only find my notes but read them. Since it corresponded with Lucy's arrival in the lab, she wasn't a secret.

*****

When Lucy and I came in together from the conservancy on the two days a week I had classes, Mama and Sunshine would be working in the kitchen. Sunshine was a big help in the kitchen. When Mama offered to teach her the tricks of the trade, Sunshine jumped at the chance.

Lucy often came in late on a lesson in making gravy, sauce preparation, or seasoning this dish or that. That's when Mama went over the tips again, as she put the finishing touches on a dish.

I excused myself to stand in a steaming shower. After wrapping a towel around me, I went to sit on the porch outside my bedroom to finish drying and read my textbooks or the latest novel I'd picked up at the book store.

As I sat marveling at the green waters a few hundred feet away, Sunshine sat beside me, taking my hand, rocking in time with me in the second chair we'd brought out of storage.

“Hard day?” she asked.

“I'm beat and I've got homework.”

“Go lay down, Clay. I'll wake you for dinner,” she said and I did.

What seemed like five minutes later, Mama's voice got into the act.

“Clayton!”

As I began to get up, I felt Sunshine holding onto me. She was out like a light.

“Clay,” Mama said a second time.

I was still in my towel and not ready to receive my mother.

“Do you think that wise, Clayton?” Mama asked with her tone.

“We were just taking a nap, Mama. I'm exhausted,” I said.

“I bet you are. This is not what we had in mind when we said Sunshine would stay.”

“Mama, nothing is going on between Sunshine and me,” I insisted.

“I can see that. Which brings me to Ivan,” Mama said.

Was Mama about to chastise me for two timing my lover?

“You got a call on Thanksgiving. I've been meaning to ask how he is. You're gone so much, I decided to come up to ask and I find you and Sunshine sleeping together.”

“Sleeping, Mama. Just sleeping.”

I knew better than to have this conversation with my mother. Explaining the birds and bees to Mama, when both bees were boy bees, wasn't happening. Telling her I had no romantic feelings for Sunshine wasn't wise either, even when Sunshine helped fill the void Ivan left. I liked her company.

“He was in Duluth. He's fine. He sounds OK. He had Thanksgiving with a guy from Boris' unit. It takes time to get them to talk.”

“He can't just ask them what happened to Boris?”

“Most aren't anxious to talk about Vietnam,” I explained. “It's best to work up to the harder questions.”

“It makes sense. John-Henry still hasn't spoken about it. Your father's home. You might want to get your pants on and bring Sunshine down for dinner. It'll be on the table in ten minutes.”

“OK, Mama. How's she doing with cooking?”

“She's doing fine. No one has taken time to teach that girl anything. Why wouldn't a mother teach her daughter how to cook? She didn't know much but she's a fast learner. She's a big help too. Saves me a lot of steps,” Mama said. “She's a sweet girl, Clay.”

“I know,” I said.

*****

I was lollygagging on the streets of Fort Myers after leaving class one afternoon. Lucy didn't get out of school until three. I wanted to waste some time and get a sandwich before I went to pick her up.

As I turned down a side street, there was an audaciously painted sign with flowers, rainbows, unicorn, and fish, and more color than the law allowed in that part of town. Intrigued, I went inside. Tie-dye shirts, hand made metal peace symbols, and crazily colored cups, mugs, ash trays, bongs, and beads caught my eye.

The wall posters got my attention. There were the Beatles, Joplin, Hendrix, and Alfred E. Newman posters. There were anti war posters and wild crazy designs that led your eye astray and refused to let go. The walls were covered with posters, flower pot hangers, and hand woven scarves, shawls, shirts, and britches hung from the walls and the ceiling.

The girl had flowers in her hair and wore brightly colored clothes. Everything was loud, a feast for the eyes, a shock to my senses. I'd never seen such color inside of one store.

What originally caught my attention was the melodic tones from Bookends by Simon and Garfunkel. I was singing the words before going inside. Then it was Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane, followed by White Rabbit. I was heading down the rabbit hole right after that rabbit.

“What kind of place is this?” I asked, unable to look at the young girl for all the distractions around me.

“This is a head shop. The first in Fort Myers. We make sandwiches in the back, tea, we have incense, chimes, anything you can imagine to expand your mind. You look like you need to chill out, dude. Incense & Peppermints played with its raucous sound.

“Chill out? Expand my mind? How do I do that?” I asked.

“You let go, man. Let it happen. It's easier if you don't fight it. I'm Penny Wise,” she said, and it took me a while to catch on.

“I could use a sandwich,” I said. “I was going to a sandwich shop down the street. I heard the music and here I am.”

“Told you, Hawkeye,” another girl yelled from the back.

“Did you hear the music?” A disembodied voice asked from what looked like a leather shop.

“I did,” I said. “I like everything you've played so far.”

“Ever had a Reuben?” Penny asked.

“A what?”

“Come on back. Money back guarantee, but if it isn't the best sandwich you've ever eaten, I'm Clarabell the clown.”

She was no Clarabell. The Reuben was as full of flavor as the shop was filled with color and sound. I gobbled the sandwich down and wandered the shop while waiting for the second Reuben to be ready. A cup of Constant Comment tea was the perfect companion for both sandwiches. It was a distinctive beverage.

While I inhaled the pleasant scent of what I was told was sandalwood incense, I stopped at a pair of magnificently made leather boots. The leather was as soft as a baby's bottom. I fondled the boots, enjoying their smell.

“What's your size?” A tall lean man in his mid twenties asked. “I'm Hawkeye. This is my shop.”

I was sensing a pattern. The girl making my sandwich called herself Breeze. Each person was more attractive than the last. Hawkeye was a hunk. His long thin fingers reached out for mine. I shook in what was an unexpectedly gentle handshake.

“I'm Clay,” I said.

Hawkeye wore buckskin from his broad shoulders down to his extra large moccasins. His copper hair rested on the shoulders of an absolutely fabulous shirt.

“Not for me for my.... Size eleven,” I said, not thinking it required Ivan's history.

“I can have a pair made for you by this time next week. Is that too long?” he asked, worried it was.

“Too long? Are you serious? Hand made by next week? Like these. I want them just like these,” I said, rubbing the leather on my cheek.

“I could do it in six days if a week is too long. To do them properly, I can't make them in less time than that,” he said.

“What is the cost of a pair of handmade leather boots?” I asked, bracing myself but determined to give a pair of those boots to Ivan.

“You look like a cool dude. You're spending money in my shop. Let's say fifty bucks. I don't need to make all the rent on one customer, and I'll have them for you Monday. I'll work a little late each night.”

“You've got to be kidding. Tuesday will be fine.”

With my second sandwich came a complimentary dish of Rocky Road ice cream.

I picked out a yellow scarf and tan shawl for Sunshine and a dark and light green set for Lucy. Christmas was two weeks away. When I came to Mama's, they had a wonderful royal blue scarf but nothing in a shawl that I liked.

When I asked Penny Wise if I was being foolish not liking the colors available, she took me to the yarn, had me pick a color I did like, and she told me it would be ready Tuesday too.

“Hawkeye originally made wallets and boots here. Breeze and I talked him into carrying our handicrafts. When business picked up, we added the deli. As you can see, we are an all-purpose head shop. You can get anything you want at Hawk eye’s,” she sang the last sentence.

Yes you could and I suspected Penny Wise was flirting with me.

The jar on the fridge had less than a hundred bucks in it. I was adding a little from each paycheck, wanting Mama to get the idea that I was able to replace what I'd given to Ivan. I was so lucky with all I had, I had to do all I could to make Ivan's journey easier on him.

Knowing Mama, I was sure she wasn't convinced and I'd just blown most of a months pay in a head shop. It was for Christmas. I probably would have spent more money on far less practical presents if I hadn't found Haweye's.

I'd pick it all up the following Tuesday and pay the rest of what I owed.

*****

Just before Christmas I came in from work to find Sunshine wasn't feeling well. Mama gave me a tray with chicken soup and mashed potatoes.

“Here! Take this up to Sunshine. This should be easy on her stomach. Sit with her for a while, Clay. Make sure she's OK. I'll send Lucy up for you when dinner's ready.”

Sunshine was sleeping when I went into Mama's sewing room. I set the tray on the table next to her bed and pulled the chair over to sit on. She woke up as I was sitting down.

“It's time for you to be home already?” she asked, sounding tired.

“Yeah, what's going on with you?” I asked.

“Mama says I got the flu. Sick at my stomach and I'm really tired, Clay.”

“I brought you some soup and mashed potatoes. I picked up the mashed potatoes and held the plate out for her to take.

She sat up in bed and looked at the plate.

“I'm not really hungry,” she said, holding the plate on her lap.

“Just take a little. It might help. There's chicken soup here. That's a bit easier to digest, I think.”

Sunshine stirred the mashed potatoes. She took two spoon fulls and handed me the plate.

“Set it on the tray. I'll get some more later,” she said, shifting back down in her bed. “I don't feel all that hot.”

“There's a stereo up at Ivan's. I don't think he'd mind if I borrow it. I'll hook it up so you have something to listen to.”

“Would you, Clay? I'd like that. Ivan played music a lot,” she said.

I went to Ivan's and brought back the stereo and half the records. Dinner was ready by the time the speakers were hooked up. I put on Bookends for Sunshine to listen to, because it was fresh in my mind. I backed it up with Dylan's John Wesley Hardin and Johnny Cash's Bitter Tears.

I left Sunshine resting and smiling to the music.

*****

By Christmas Sunshine was feeling better. She came to the table for dinner for the first time in a while that week. In short order we were all laughing and enjoying a good meal.

Except, I was waiting for Ivan's phone call. It didn't come. The later it got, the more angry I became. By midnight I was fuming.

This was not the way lovers treated one another. It didn't matter that there were no rules or instructions governing two men who were in love but the least he could do was call on Christmas Eve. He was going to get an earful when he did call.

I was as quiet as I could be when I went upstairs. I didn't want to wake Sunshine. The door between our rooms was open and I didn't turn on any lights, angrily kicking off my shoes and pants, leaving my clothes in the floor and I slipped into my bed.

“Glad you showed up before New Years. Do you know how long I've been waiting up here for you to decide to come to bed? It's after midnight,” Ivan said as I ended up in his arms.

He couldn't say any more with my tongue doing what tongues do at times like this. I'd never gone from mad as a hornet to happy as a clam as quick as I did Christmas Even 1968.

Ivan had come home.

“Get up. I've got something to show you,” I said, shaking Ivan awake after we'd both finally fallen asleep.

“What? Do you know what time it is? Do you know I was in Columbus this morning? I don't mind telling you I used up all my energy getting here, Clay. Can't it wait until tomorrow?”

“No, it can't. You had plenty of energy when I got here,” I said.

“That's because you got here. You give me strength. Did I ever tell you that?” Ivan asked.

“Here,” I said handing him the box with the boots that I didn't think he'd get at Christmas. I didn't wrap them because I thought I was going to send them to him.

As he held the box he said, “I didn't get you anything.”

I threw my arms around him and I kissed him as passionately as I'd ever kissed him.

“You silly boy. You gave me just what I wanted for Christmas,” I said, kissing him again.

We ended up back on the bed before he opened the box to see what was inside. Finally, after only a couple more interruptions, he held the handcrafted boots.

“They're beautiful, Clay. They must have cost a fortune,” he said.

“Half a fortune. Nothing is too good for the man I love. If you're going to be hiking all over the countryside, lose those Converse tennis shoes. These should feel good on your feet.”

He tried them on, walking around the room to model them for me. It was a great look. Boots and the rest was all Ivan.

“They don't even feel like I've got anything on my feet,” he said, looking down at them.

Ivan recharged his batteries after we spent time together. We spent a lot of Christmas day at his house in his bed, reminding each other how much we were in love.

Ivan stayed Christmas day and left the day after Christmas. The next guy from Boris' unit lived in Jacksonville. Once you got on the highway, it was only a few hours north and east. He called from there the evening he left. We were both sad. I hoped he'd come back.

Parting was no easier this time. I watched the bus until it went out of sight and I was alone again. I kept thinking he'd get tired of the search and come home.

Maybe he would by next Christmas.

Chapter 9

Sun Shines on Clay

When Ivan called on Sunday, I told him I'd taken the stereo from his house. He was happy it was being used. We didn't go into detail about why I chose to go get it now.

Ivan commented that his grandfather's fishing gear was locked up in a closet with a special wall that hid the fact it was there. As with so many unusual aspect of the house his grandfather built next to the river, it was built for his comfort and need. Having so much fishing gear meant taking care to protect it.

The house wasn't exactly on the beaten path but even if someone got inside, there wasn't much to take. I checked the house from time to time, more after Ivan first left, because I didn't know if the people he brought home from Tampa might come back.

*****

On Christmas day, in between feedings, I sat on the porch outside my bedroom with van on one side and Sunshine on the other. The stereo played in the background. Instead of Dylan, Jefferson Airplane, and the Beatles, it was Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, and Dean Martin belting out Christmas songs.

Ivan said that he was happy Sunshine had a place to stay. The Olson house was one of the best places around to live. He was glad we'd become friends. He thought Sunshine was good company for me in his absence. Ivan knew everything and I had no apology to make for liking Sunshine. There was no reason my love for Ivan to be in conflict with my love for Sunshine. In a ways it relieved Ivan of some of his guilt over leaving me.

Ivan being at the dinner table with us made for a happy Christmas meal. We were all glad to be there. The chat was lively and Ivan went into a little detail about his quest. This was the Reader's Digest version, short and sweet.

Mama was dressed in her Sunday go to meeting clothes. She'd had her hair done at the beauty parlor for the first time since we'd come to Florida. She looked like a million bucks. Pop obviously enjoyed having both Ivan and Sunshine sharing the meal with us.

Lucy was as buoyant as she got. There was no doubt that she enjoyed the company of both Ivan and Sunshine. Lucy liked interacting with a diverse group of intelligent people. She was on her game during Christmas that year.

We had dessert around our scaled back Christmas tree. This tree was six feet tall and lonely looking in the huge foyer. Lucy and Sunshine somehow had hung garland from Mr. Broadmoore's chandelier. It filled the empty spaces and the colorful presents made the foyer a colorful sight.

Having decided on Sinatra, the music was consistent and reminded us it was Christmas if the decorations weren't enough. There were no visitors that year. There was the usual Christmas party at Harry's and a tree a decorations at the conservancy, but Christmas was mostly confined to the Olson clan and those people we loved most of all.

When Ivan was home, I never thought about how long he'd been gone this time. Ivan being there when I looked, having him in my bed at night, smelling him, touching him, meant all was right with my world, and I never thought about how long we had this time.

Ivan stayed three days.

*****

Sunshine was back in bed a couple of days after Christmas, but she was feeling better by New Years Eve and we had a late dinner and sat around the tree enjoying Mama's punch and the music that played from Ivan's stereo. We hoped 1969 was a better year.

Being off from school and off from work most days made the holidays restful. If you can catch up on your sleep, I did, after Ivan left. I was learning to enjoy leisure time.

Ivan stayed the day after Christmas and left the following morning. It took work to get him out of his new boots. I told him he was welcome in my bed any time but the boots stopped at the edge of the mattress.

I knew when I saw them he'd love a pair and I was right.

*****

The week before I started school in the new year, I came in from work and found Sunshine buzzing around the kitchen as bright and happy as could be. For most of December her energy had been at a low ebb. This was good to see.

Mama watched her hug me as quickly as I appeared.

“You get out from under foot, Clayton. We're busy and don't you be pinching anything off the platter on your way out.”

Mama smiled after Sunshine put me in my place.

“You tell him, Sunshine,” Lucy said, “He'd eat on the run if we didn't make him sit at the table.”

“I love you too, Luce.”

There were three of them keeping an eye on me now. The women of the house outnumbered the men for the first time. Seeing them happy and all together was nice. There were days I came home and all three of them were gone. It was then I could pinch a piece of whatever was for dinner and not risk getting caught.

One day early in the new year Lucy and I came in from the conservancy. Lucy headed for a shower and I headed for the kitchen to say hello to Mama and Sunshine, but Sunshine wasn't there. I kissed Mama on the cheek and checked for spare food.

“You have Sunshine picking herbs. You do know there are bears out there in the high grass?”

“More likely to be gators,” Mama said. “Sunshine got sick this morning right after breakfast. She's been sick all day.”

“She has the flu again?” I asked, wondering if there was now someone else for me to worry about.

“No, Clay, it's not the flu,” Mama said, turning to lean against the counter with a most serious look on her face.

“What is it?” I asked, fearful of what I might hear.

“If my hunch is correct, Sunshine is pregnant, Clayton. I thought it was the flu until I began to count the weeks since she got here. She began having morning sickness the sixth week. Funny thing about that, I used to get sick my sixth week when I was pregnant.”

“How?” I began to ask before my mind moved off food onto what Mama was saying.

“Oh, they know what causes it now. All those days I caught her lying on your bed. That morning she was in bed with you. You've been so trustworthy, so responsible. I wanted to believe I didn't have to worry about Clayton. He's such a good boy.”

“But Mama, I didn't....”

“Clayton, you were so dependable. Since we came here you've been the best kid ever. First the money and now this. You've disappointed me. Your entire life has just changed.”

“Mama, I'm not....”

“Oh but you are, young man. You are going to make an honest woman out of Sunshine. You're going to give that child a name. You have a good name and that child is going to need it. There are many things I can overlook, this isn't one of them.”

“Mama, I....”

“I'll talk to my minister. We'll have a quiet ceremony and hope I'm the only one counting. I'll say you're so busy we decided on a quiet ceremony to tie the knot. We won't fool anyone but at least you'll be married before the baby arrives,” Mama explained.

“Sunshine will have a husband and the baby will have a father. Now go upstairs and get ready for dinner. See if Sunshine is going to come down. She was sleeping when I went up around five. I've got to figure out how to break this to your father. He's been so proud of you, Clayton. We've all been proud of you.”

Of course I could override Mama if I wanted to wage World War III. She wasn't going to believe it wasn't my baby but there was something she said that made perfect sense. In spite of my reservations and in spite of Ivan, Sunshine needed a husband and the baby needed a father. I told her I'd take care of her and I would.

I cared a lot about Sunshine. I wasn't going to be able to marry the man I love but I could marry Sunshine and take the weight of the situation off her shoulders.

I liked the idea of being a father. This was likely to be my only shot.

I had no idea what Ivan would say.

I didn't know what Sunshine would say. She could have other ideas. Somehow I didn't think so. She'd want the baby to have a father and a name.

*****

Ivan had left Jacksonville and would meet Ralph Meeks in Bucksnort, Pennsylvania. Ralph wasn't home from the military yet. He'd been told about Ivan and he wanted to meet him.

Ivan would remain in Bucksnort until spring. Ralph was a major source of information about Boris and he wanted to talk.

*****

Wherever Boris was, he was a long way from Ivan. No matter how much information Ivan collected, short of joining the army, there was no way Ivan could get to Vietnam. That's if Boris was alive. I wasn't sure he was alive. I wasn't convinced he survived his wounds.

I waited for Ivan to realize this. The military would need to find Boris. They showed no interest in finding him. Soldiers who wanted to find their comrade were moved to another region of Vietnam.

I wouldn't rush Ivan. This was a journey he had to take. As long as it led back to me, I'd wait.

In early 1969, there was a complication we had to deal with.

When Ivan called me from Bucksnort, I couldn't put it off any longer. I had Mama breathing down my neck when his call came.

“We have something we need to talk about, Ivan. We have a situation here.”

“Here? There? Are we still all right, Clay?” he asked with fear in his voice. “I know this is hard on you. It's not easy on me, Clay.”

Ivan was thinking about our relationship too.

“We're fine. Sunshine isn't fine,” I said.

“Will she she OK?” he asked concerned.

“Sunshine is pregnant,” I said.

And there was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line.

“She is? I thought you.... Didn't you tell me you didn't?”

“Ivan, she knows we're lovers,” I said, and then I had to look around to see who heard, because I was talking loud.

He was all the way over in Bucksnort, Pennsylvania.

“You told her we were lovers,” I whispered. “I told her the same thing. That's not the situation.”

“I don't understand?” Ivan said, sounding like he was lost.

“She needs a husband. The baby needs a father. I'm charming, handsome, and I want to be a father at some point. This is going to be my only shot, Ivan. It's way sooner than I ever imagined taking on that kind of responsibility, but Lord knows we'll never be able to get married. We can get arrested for just thinking about being in love in this neck of the woods.”

“We're OK. You're sure? This isn't about me being gone?”

“I'm sure. We're fine. I can't imagine ever loving anyone the way I love you, Ivan, but I've got Mama to contend with. She isn't going to go along with the program unless I marry Sunshine.”

“What did Sunshine say?” Ivan asked.

“She said I didn't have to marry her,” I said.

“What did you say?”

“I told her I wanted to marry her and I wanted the baby to be an Olson. She smiled and looked pleased with me. I told her I had to ask you first. She laughed when I said that. She said, 'That's quite a proposal, Clayton. I've got to ask my lover if I can marry you. I doubt many men propose quite like that.'”

Ivan was laughing.

“Do what you have to do, Clay. You're doing all you can for me. I don't mind you marrying Sunshine. It's not like we can get hitched.”

*****

I wore the suit Mama bought for my graduation. Sunshine wore a white gown Mama made out of her wedding dress. Her youngest son was the first child to get married and the dress was altered to fit Sunshine.

Mama confessed her son's sin to the minister and requested he marry us PDQ. He agreed to do the ceremony, just not in his church. He had his standards.

Heaven knows how much it cost Mama to get him to lower them.

When I explained the situation to Harry, who was home until Nixon's inauguration, he offered the garden at his house for the ceremony. As unfamiliar as I was with church, I jumped on Harry's offer. I'd never seen his house. The picnics were at the conservancy.

So Harry, Mama, Pop, and Lucy knew what was up. Everyone else was in the dark. The employees at the conservancy came. Popov, Tito, and most the fishing fleet at the marina came, which made fifty people, not including Harry and his family.

Sunshine was radiant. Mama and Lucy had worked for two days getting everything just right. The minister came for the ceremony, schmoozed a bit with Harry, and left. He had little to say to the happy couple beyond the words it took to marry us. He didn't approve of us and let it show. We hadn't done it by the book.

Harry's butler, maid, and cook served the food and drinks. It was as nice a party as I'd ever attended. The help was cordial and seemed genuinely happy for us. Little did I know that Harry's maid Twila would become crucial to our lives once Dylan made his appearance. Twila was pregnant and proud of it.

Sunshine was drawn straight to her. She felt her belly and they sat together talking about babies. I was the busy groom, talking to the men who came to see me get hitched.

The fisherman were from all over the world and they were all ages. They were delighted for me. It was like it hadn't been six months since we fished together. For me it felt like they were part of another life. So much had changed since the last time I went fishing on the Gulf.

Everyone wanted to have a drink with me. I poured a lot of booze into Harry's garden. I hope it survived my wedding day. It surprised me how many people came to wish me well. They all mentioned how beautiful my bride was.

No one knew, or at least no one was crude enough to mention Sunshine's condition. Shotguns were kept out of sight.

Sunshine and I honeymooned on the Gulf of Mexico in a house that was nearly a hundred years old. We spent much of our time on the porch outside of my bedroom. The door stayed open between our bedrooms.

Sunshine felt comfortable enough to come to my bed when the bad dreams came. We had become the best of friends. Thinking that I was protecting her from the demons of her past had me feeling pretty good about myself.

The only thing missing from our marriage was romantic love, but the kind of love we shared was real and rewarding. She'd come into my life at a time when I needed to get my mind off Ivan.

Sunshine could do that. We laughed a lot and besides the morning sickness and tiredness, everything was cool. When I came home from work, if there was time, we sat and rocked, listening to the music I once listened to on Ivan's deck.

As far as Mama was concerned, all was right with the world. Sunshine could have her child in the conservancy house and no one would talk about how long we'd been married, except for the old biddies, who'd pull off their shoes so they could count the weeks on fingers and toes since Sunshine's marriage to me. Since we didn't circulate in polite company, we wouldn't be on their minds until the little Olson made his appearance and the counting was done.

Then the gossip would start. Mama would need to endure the stares and whispers. These were the people in her church and the reason I didn't go to church.

Jesus implored us to love and care for each other. The people who followed his word seemed more interested in judging the sins of others. It wasn't consistent in my mind but Mama bought into it.

With so many boxes coming home from Vietnam each week, with the Nation's Capital and dozens of cities still smoldering from the 1968 fires, with hundreds of thousands of war protesters in the streets of America, the biddies would take time out to see if Sunshine's and Clay Olson's child was born a suitable length of time after the wedding. I didn't care. I didn't think Sunshine cared.

We were married. The baby would be an Olson.

*****

Nothing changed between Sunshine and me. Mama let Sunshine bring the clothes up to the bedroom, unless Sunshine wasn't feeling up to it. Then I'd be told to pick up the basket from the laundry room.

Sunshine was fine well into March, as far as I knew. I was gone all the time. My schedule continued keeping me busy from early each morning to early evening. I wasn't able to get enough rest to feel rested. School was actually the biggest culprit. None of it was hard. All of it was time consuming. On the schedule I was on, it would take five years for me to get all the credits for my degree.

My education would never stop. My business was the Gulf and the Gulf was changing. My job was to document the changes and be alert to the impact the changes represented. The future of commerce and tourism depended on keeping the Gulf healthy.

The first day my journey as a marine biologist began, my mentor told me, 'We are the canaries in this coal mine.'

It meant I was doing good. I would leave the world a better place. Like the Boy Scouts who always left a campsite better than when they found it, I'd do that for the Gulf of Mexico if I could stay ahead of the pollution.

*****

No matter what I was doing or who was sponsoring me, it didn't come easy. Time ran out before the work did. Mama and Pop were going to cover our food but there were medical bills, baby things to be bought, and our general upkeep that I'd take on.

The jar on the fridge was gradually looking better as my deposits began to add up. At the rate I was going I'd be paying the baby off for the next twenty years, but time moved at a furious pace.

Sunshine was waiting for me to arrive home each evening. Her smile was infectious and she made me feel better no matter how tired I was. Then in March she was sick a lot. She was more tired than I was. When I'd get home, I'd go straight up to her room and hold her hand while we talked, but she began to sleep more and more.

When Sunshine couldn't come to the table, Mama fixed a tray with soup, fruit, and finely chopped foods for Sunshine and one with my meal so I could eat with my wife.

Pop showed his concern for Sunshine with the way he looked at me. We didn't have nearly as much time to talk as before. Even Harry had to leave messages for me. He came and went from the conservancy and I wasn't there while he was, but I was being educated, diving, and taking care of the lab and the beaches.

March was almost over when I came in from work one evening. I wandered into the kitchen before I went upstairs, hoping to find Sunshine there, but she no longer went to the kitchen. Mama was standing at the stove and she gave me a long look.

“Sit down, Clay,” Mama said.

“I want to go up and say hello to, Sunshine,” I said.

“Sit down, Clay,” she said. “We need to talk.”

Mama brought me a cup of coffee and slid it in front of me.

“Sunshine isn't here,” Mama said.

“What?” I said, starting to stand up to go check.

“Sit down, Clay.”

“Where is she?” I asked, feeling suddenly light headed.

“Sunshine is sick, Clay,” Mama said. “Lucy's at the hospital with her.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Fort Myers. We went to the doctors today. Sunshine was afraid to go alone. The doctor agreed to let me sit with her. The doctor is concerned that Sunshine isn't gaining weight the way she should. He's apparently wanted to do more complete examinations, but Sunshine wouldn't have it. She wants the baby and she's afraid they'll take it if she gives into them.”

“Take it?” I asked, wondering who'd have the nerve to take my baby.

“End her pregnancy and find out what's behind her problems.”

“I thought it was morning sickness. That's what you said, 'Morning sickness.'”

“I was wrong. If she hadn't been pregnant, we might have caught it sooner. That's what everyone was worried about. A lot of woman have difficulty, especially with their first child.”

“What's wrong with her?” I asked.

“The doctor did some blood tests. He was going to put her on iron and her potassium was low, but when the tests came back.... sunshine has leukemia, Clay. She's getting some nutrients and something to bolster her blood. That will help the baby, so she agreed to it.”

“Leukemia? That serious. It's like cancer.”

“It's a blood disease. The white blood cells don't reproduce properly and don't protect the person from illness. All those colds Sunshine has. The flu that kept coming back. It was the leukemia.”

“What do we do?”

“Pray, Clay. Pray for both of them. Lucy's on the way home. Visiting hours are over before you can get to Fort Myers. Lucy has been with her all afternoon and I came home to fix dinner. Your father left work when I called him about Sunshine. He picked Lucy up.”

“Why didn't someone call me? I could have gone straight from work,” I protested. “I could have brought Lucy home.”

“Sunshine said not to call you. 'He's so tired lately. There's no use him coming all this way. I want to sleep anyway. I'd have to cheer him up if he was here.'”

If I'd been tired before what was left of my energy became suddenly depleted. There was nothing I could do. It was a familiar feeling. I felt the same way after the news about Boris came.

The news about Sunshine hit me particularly hard. We'd only known each other for a matter of months, and yet my feelings for her were strong. I felt like I signed on to see that Sunshine's life was better than it had been with the help of my family.

She was safe and secure and the new baby would have a great place to grow up. It didn't seem fair. For years everything went my way and all of a sudden everything went to hell.

In a matter of months we lost Boris, Ivan left the beach, and Sunshine came to help us get past the missing Aleksas, and now she was seriously ill. It was almost more than I could handle. It was more than I wanted to deal with.

As painful as it was, and as close to home as it came, none of it was about me. That's the conclusion I arrived at by the next morning. Being tired didn't mean sleeping. I tossed and turned all night and I decided Sunshine came first. My life would go on after she was better.

I overruled Mama, which was a first. I'd go to bring Sunshine home. I did allow Lucy to go with me. My argument fell short when I told Lucy she should be in school.

“And you, big brother? What about your classes?”

Lucy was good to have around. She did show emotion, always being a voice of reason. She was also good company and my biggest ally. Mama could be overpowering and when it came to Sunshine, I wasn't going to be overpowered. I would take care of Sunshine.

*****

When Sunshine came home, she had to go into my bed. Mama had begun to paint the room with Sunshine's bed in it. She'd mentioned not liking the pea green color that much and wanted to brighten it up.

She'd made new curtains that were light enough to let in the light and that brightened the room and allowed air in when the window was open. Lucy jumped in to add her special touch.

By the following week the paint was dry and the smell faded. Sunshine was out of bed, sitting on the porch with me, and neither of us had been given access to her room. Mama closed the door because of the paint smell, and it wasn't opened again until it was ready.

The color was baby blue. Lucy painted a brilliant sun, huge white clouds, adding the turquoise of the Gulf below. On the ceiling, a dark blue, there were stars and angels to guard over Sunshine.

“It's beautiful,” Sunshine said.

“Yes it is,” I said, holding her hand as we stood in the open door between our rooms.

“Lucy gets the credit for adding the sun and stars,” Mama said. “I wasn't too sure until I saw it. I didn't know she was so talented.”

“Lucy can do anything,” I said, and my sister kissed my cheek and smiled proudly.

*****

Sunshine reacted well to the transfusion and nutrients the hospital gave her. Her color improved and she seemed a bit stronger. She was told to stay off the stairs, get fresh air, and eat her fruits and vegetables for the baby's sake.

I did not leave the house. I brought Sunshine's food to her and we ate together. It was a nice time for us. We talked a lot and she told me about living with people who could care less about her comfort or even if she ate or not when food was short.

I listened, holding her hand, getting sick at my stomach that Sunshine was treated worse than most people treated their pets. It gave rise to the feeling I had that some people shouldn't be allowed to have kids. This was an opinion I developed when Kenny talked about his childhood, while we waited for the fish on the Vilnius Two.

Kenny, who Ivan's father rescued from under the pier at the fish warehouse, had a childhood that ended when he was twelve. He left home for fear he wouldn't live to see thirteen if he stayed. It was the first time I knew some kids had terrible parents. It was part of my education while fishing with Ivan on his father's boat.

Like Sunshine, Kenny was nice. He was nearly grown by the time I met him, but it was easy to see his gratitude for being rescued. I saw no reason why anyone disliked him and his loyalty was such that when Ivan's father sailed out of the marina for the last time, Kenny went with him.

Hearing Sunshine's story convinced me that not only shouldn't some people be allowed to have kids, they should be in jail.

My parents were looking better all the time. They didn't hesitate when it came to making sure Sunshine had a safe place to stay. I was simply doing what Ivan asked me to do. Little did I know how involved I'd become in Sunshine's life in no time at all.

The simplicity of my life lured me into a false sense of security. There were things even my parents couldn't protect me from. Life had become very complicated rather quickly. I didn't understand how my feelings for Sunshine ran so deeply and developed so fast. I was sure it had something to do with Ivan leaving and the desire I had to protect Sunshine from any more hardship.

*****

As I closed in on turning nineteen, there was no way to protect myself from what was coming. Convincing myself everything would be all right, because things for me had always gone right, was delusional as well as wishful thinking. Because I wanted something wasn't going to make it so. I was seriously exposed now.

Had Sunshine not been pregnant, what was wrong with her might have surfaced way sooner. Her pregnancy could not have been the cause of her symptoms, but it masked the leukemia.

Sunshine was pregnant and any talk of treatment that might hurt the baby were to be avoided if you knew what was good for you.

“I've done nothing with my life. I'll be nineteen soon, Clay, and the best thing I've ever done is have my baby, and I will have this baby.”

Mama had taken a turn. I noticed it when she began to paint Sunshine's room. Her usual overwhelming personality, when it came to her family, was subdued. She did everything she ordinarily did, but I wasn't the only one taking the news about Sunshine hard.

When Mama wasn't busy, she came to sit in Sunshine's room. I'd shower, shave, and freshen up as Mama and Sunshine talked. Sometimes she brought up coffee and something to have with it. Mama had taken to Sunshine in a big way and she wasn't seeing her illness ending well.

I felt this is what was going on, but no one really knew what was going on inside Mama until she told you.

Pop likewise didn't give anything away as far as emotions were concerned. You knew if he was happy and you knew when he wasn't pleased with you, but you never knew what was going on behind his eyes. Pop had seen a lot and he knew hard times. Both my parents were children of the depression. Those were not easy times.

*****

Harry came to see me the second week I was out of school and not at the conservancy. He'd come home for Congress' Easter recess. They had more time outs than most two year old kids.

Mama put us in the dining room with coffee and some of her lighter than air coffee cake. Harry spent quite a bit of time smacking his lips and licking his fingers.

“Oh, that's so good. Your mother is an angel,” Congressman Harry McCallister advised me.

“I'll take your word for it, Harry. I'm sorry I've been neglecting....”

Harry held up his hand for me to stop and he licked icing off his thumb before he spoke.

“Cut it out, Clay. Your job is to take care of your wife. You don't need to apologize to me. You take all the time you need. The conservancy has been there for over fifty years. It'll be there once Sunshine is better and your baby is born. That school's been there a while too. I've checked with Bill Payne and he says you're so far ahead of his other students, if you took the rest of the year off they wouldn't catch up with you. He will miss your Wednesday dives but he'll leave that time open for you, just in case.”

“That's nice of him, Harry. Thank you,” I said.

“Bill seems to think you have insights far better developed than many of the marine biologists he deals with. They're all old school and you've developed a more progressive interest in sea life. Your class work is another question, but to get your degree you might need an extra semester or two of credits. It's nothing that can't be made up."

“I'll miss the dives too. It's the one time I'm totally at peace,” I said. “Bill Payne is a fine teacher. I've learned a lot from him.”

“Yes, he's a treasure. If we can get people to pay attention, we can do a lot of good. It isn't going to happen today or tomorrow, Clay. This is a long term process. Once Bill and I are gone, you'll be the one that carries on the work we've begun this past year. You take whatever time you need. You'll be paid as if you're at the conservancy. Lord knows I don't pay you for all the hours you put in. Your value is a long term investment to me. What you're learning is as good as money in the bank. Take whatever time you need.”

“Thank you, Harry. I don't know how long it'll be. Sunshine needs me right now and I intend to be there for her.”

“As you should. I've got to get out of here before I eat any more of this coffee cake. I have no willpower. Thank your mother and thank you, Clay. Tell Sunshine I asked about her.”

Harry stood and exited through the foyer and the front door. I lived a charmed life. It was filled with good people who cared about me. I'd barely begun to work. I didn't deserve the consideration I was being given, but it made me feel good nonetheless.

No one told me to get a grip and do my job. I wasn't told to do anything but follow my heart.

It was a good thing too, because I would keep Sunshine safe for as long as I could, except from the disease that was killing her.

*****

“Clay, it's for you,” Lucy yelled from the foyer.

I knew by the time of the call it was Ivan. I did my usual sprint down the stairs.

“Hey!” I said, trying to catch my breath.

“You OK?”

“Yeah, I ran down to the phone,” I explained.

“How's Sunshine?”

“Same. She's sleeping. She's eating a bit better. Her color is better,” I said.

“Good. She was pretty pale as I remember. Any color would be good. She lives on the Gulf of Mexico,” he said.

“How are you?”

“Fine. I'm good,” he said. “I'm in Kellogg, Idaho. Mike Thompson was one of Boris' friends. They'd been to Da Nang together a few times. He was wounded the month after Boris went missing. They call it the million dollar wound. Just bad enough to get him home but not bad enough to cause permanent damage.”

“Lucky boy,” I said. “When you coming home, Ivan?”

“I've got a guy in Flagstaff. That's less than a day away and one in Hays, Kansas, after that. It may be a few months before I can get to Florida again.”

“You making any progress?”

“I think so. None of his friends thinks he's dead. That doesn't mean he wasn't seriously wounded, but these guys had seen wounds, some of them have been wounded, and Boris' wound wasn't fatal.”

“That's good to hear. I want to get back upstairs to Sunshine.”

“You OK, Clay?”

“Yeah, Ivan. I'm fine. You take care of yourself.”

“I will. Tell Sunshine hello for me.”

“She'll like that. Thanks, Ivan. You take care of yourself,” I said, pushing my finger down to disconnect the call.

I felt like I had become attached to the phone.

I stood there trying to picture Ivan. I hadn't seen him in months. I wanted to hold him. I wanted him to hold me and tell me everything will be OK.

Chapter 10

Overcast

By mid-April I'd stopped going to work.

I took dives with Bill Payne a couple of Wednesdays that spring. On dives I was able to clear my mind and free myself of worry.

I watched as Sunshine regained some strength. It was good to see her smile again.

One day after a dive, and before I went home, I returned to the lab to see if Harry had replaced me.

No one had been inside since I locked the door behind me the month before. Even Bill, who held classes in my lab for convenience, hadn't been there.

When Bill and I dove together, we hardly talked. He seemed innately aware that I was having difficulty beyond the world of marine biology. He knew the basic facts behind the drama in my life.

Harry called, made small talk, inquired about Sunshine. He never mentioned I was obligated to him. I was Harry's man in the Gulf, only I hadn't been at work for weeks. I felt bad about that.

I was Sunshine's man too. I found it impossible to be away from her for long. Each time I left her, a fear of losing her overtook me and I raced home.

Sunshine was up and sitting on the porch with me as we ate breakfast later on in April. Mama made soft boiled eggs, hot tea, and her lighter than air biscuits slathered in butter.

Sunshine felt stronger. The doctors agreed the blood transfusions and vitamins had helped. The doctors approved her using the stairs if it didn't tire her too much. They warned her not to fatigue herself.

I was banned from going to the doctors with Sunshine, Mama, and Lucy. She was having a baby and the ladies knew what to do. She knew I was a nervous wreck any time she went near the doctors, always expecting more bad news.

I didn't like doctors.

They made a girl's day out when she went to the doctors. They ate out and didn't rush home. By later in April Sunshine was anxious to go out and the three of them were always laughing.

Getting away from the house gave me a strange relief and it improved my disposition but I dashed back whenever I went out. I was a drag. I had become forever anxious.

Having her at the dinner table improved Pop's disposition. He didn't go to a young ladies bedroom, not even one he considered to be his daughter. Pop didn't talk much but he listened carefully when the conversation turned to Sunshine's health.

A few times in early May I came in and Sunshine was in the kitchen with Mama and Lucy. They'd be engaged in girl talk and cooking that night's meal. I sat at the table to listen and see if I could absorb some of their energy. I didn't figure I'd learn to cook.

Some days Sunshine was at the table for dinner and on other days she was worn out by dinner time. I would carry a tray upstairs with our plates and we ate on the porch watching the Gulf.

“How do you feel?” I'd ask, once one of Mama's soups and bread pudding with fresh cream was in front of her.

“Oh, Clay, I'm fine. I tire easy but I'm stronger. I haven't been up all day for a long time.”

*****

Sunshine loved her room. She told me she'd never had a room of her own. The brilliant sun, clouds, and stars Lucy painted gave her a feeling of being connected to the universe.

“I've never been anywhere, Clay. The only part of the universe I've been in is southwest Florida. I'd never seen the Gulf until we went to Ivan's. It scared me. Did you know Ivan sat for hours, at night sometimes, staring into the water. He loves that house.”

“We did it together for years,” I said. “When I first moved here, I'd never been anywhere either and the Gulf of Mexico fascinated me.”

“It didn't scare you? It's so big.”

“No. Before I met Ivan I walked the beach every day. Then we sat together on the deck outside his bedroom every day. I lived up there with him for years.”

“You didn't like us being there. I could tell,” Sunshine said. “I remember you coming up and going out on the deck with Ivan. I'd hear you talking. I couldn't hear what you said, but you weren't happy.”

“Ivan and I were together all the time. Then he put you guys between us. No, I didn't like it. I wanted it to be the way it had always been but it's never going to be that way again. Ivan's gone now.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't understand how close you were to him. His house beat the street. I didn't know we were in your space.”

“It wasn't your fault. It's the way the cards were dealt. I had no way of knowing what Ivan was thinking. He was in pain and I couldn't help him,” I said. “I thought I knew him, until this thing with Boris, his brother. I don't know this Ivan. I didn't know the drunk Ivan,” I said, not wanting to talk about Ivan.

“Are you OK, Clay?”

“Fine,” I said. “I was just thinking that we need to go to Key West. Ivan and I went last summer, after we graduated from high school. It is one of the most beautiful drives in the world.”

“Key West?”

“Yeah, it's way, way, below the tip of Florida. It's halfway to Cuba. There are little islands connected by bridges so you can get to Key West. You could only go by train or boat before the bridges.”

“Isn't that where the communists live?”

“It's actually where the Cubans live. They say on a clear day, standing at the tip of Key West, you can see Cuba,” I lied.

“That's a foreign country, isn't it?” Sunshine asked.

“It is now. It used to be the vacation destination for Americans. Then Castro took over and Cuba lost its luster.”

“He's the communist,” Sunshine assured me.

“And a Cuban.”

*****

By mid May Sunshine was feeling good. She gained weight and ate anything Mama put in front of her. Mama altered some of Coleen's clothes to fit Sunshine as her pregnancy progressed.

There were days when we walked on the beach, holding hands like we did the first time I walked Sunshine to the conservancy house, thinking she'd be gone in a day or two.

Autumn moved on and winter came and went. It was an early spring and Sunshine brightened with the coming of perfect Florida days. She brightened our lives. There was no sign of anything but clear skies and smooth waters.

*****

No one knew what my relationship with Sunshine was, although Lucy figured most things out without much help. Lucy knew I had but one true love. She also knew I adored Sunshine.

May was proving to be better than April. Before months end we put a picnic basket in the car with the goodies Mama prepared for us, and we were off to Key West.

Ivan and I drove the same roads the summer before, but it was more spectacular the second time. Sunshine was fascinated by the blue green waters in every direction. Her fear of water subsided.

We stopped to fish in Key Largo, taking a boat ride, and to eat seafood at a restaurant where the boats unloaded their catch at the back door. It gave new meaning to fresh seafood.

Sunshine ate all the food on her seafood platter and helped me eat my crab cakes and scallops. I laughed as she couldn't get enough. We got two huge oyster sandwiches to get us to the next Key.

We walked on the beach near the restaurant and picked up shells that dazzled Sunshine. She kept them in her lap as we were off for for Key West with the Chevy's top down and Sunshine's fine golden hair blowing on the breeze, flowing behind her as she basked in the sun.

I stopped to get her sunglasses as we headed along the endless expanse of bridges that carried us over vast stretches of water as we drove straight out into the passage between the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico.

The Florida Straits were a mixture of beauty and untamed fury at the end of our drive where the tip of Key West faced Cuba.

In Key West we stayed in a hotel off Duval Street. We walked to the place where President Truman stayed when he was in Key West. We went to the bar where Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams met, when they met in Key West. Rumors about the two abounded. They were homosexuals. They were lovers.

They were two of the best writers in America but they weren't around to verify or deny the things being said about them.

Hemingway, on the other hand, had a seat ready for his return to the 1969 version of Sloppy Joe's. I felt Hemingway's presence in the raucous bar. I believed what was said about Hemingway far easier than I believed what I heard about Capote and Williams, but they were still among the living.

The first time I heard someone say, “They're gay you know.”

I replied, “How would you know. I hear there's only one way to know for sure.”

I bristled, objecting to someone being singled out as odd.

At land's end on Key West we stood on tiptoes in an effort to see Cuba. All we saw was water.

People came and went by boat, plane, and car. For a far away island that wasn't easy to get to, a lot of people wanted to be there.

We stayed for two nights and then headed back. While it was a wonderful trip, and the farthest Sunshine had ever been from where she was raised, we wanted to get back home where we belonged.

Sunshine looked tired. The trip to Key West was the best she'd been in months. I can't say it didn't tire her out. She didn't like being in the hotel room. She wanted to see all of Key West and that meant a lot of walking. On the third day she was ready to go home.

I took her breakfast in bed the first morning home and she wanted to sleep after she ate. I rocked alone on the porch.

New things were fine for a few days. The trip was fun. I liked being home. It was easier on Sunshine. It was our cocoon. The world didn't intrude very much on our beach after it took Ivan away.

On one of Sunshine's good days in June, I took the shells we'd collected on Key Largo to Hawkeye on a trip to Fort Myers to take Sunshine to the movies to see Midnight Cowboy.

The movie was set in New York City and featured an eclectic assortment of strange people. New York had to be the gathering place for the world's biggest weirdos.

My second look at gay characters in a movie was more depressing than the first. Why were people like me portrayed as psychological cripples? How sick were the people who wrote this crap?

Sunshine said, “They were so sad. You think those two men loved each other, Clay?”

“It was a movie. I don't know why either of them was there.”

By the time we returned to Hawkeye's. he'd created a gorgeous necklaces for Sunshine. I told her, “This is the shop where I bought your Christmas gifts. The people are great.”

We ate Rubens and Rocky Road ice cream. Breeze and Penny Wise ate with us as Hawkeye made a leather vest. We all laughed and enjoyed the visit. Breeze and Penny Wise listened to Sunshine's belly.

I guess it was a girl thing.

“Let's go home, Clay. I'm so tired,” Sunshine said, once we were outside.

*****

Ivan turned nineteen in March. I was nineteen in June. Eighteen was full of difficult days. I had high hopes for nineteen and yet a strange feeling set in on me. How could I be so lucky and so sad?

I wanted Ivan to come home and not for a visit. I worried something was going to happen to him.

I wanted to be with Sunshine and our baby. This was going to make me happy as I matured.

Sunshine weakened as June passed. She spent more and more time in bed. Once again the doctor advised she stay off the stairs and rest until the baby was born. It was due in July, but if she continued to weaken....”

Once again, out of my earshot, but according to Mama, Sunshine's doctor told her, “It's time to take the baby. You need the leukemia treatments now. Wait until after the baby is born and it may be too late for treatments.”

“I'm having my baby. He'll be OK,” Sunshine replied.

“There is no guarantee of that,” her doctor advised.

“He will be OK,” Sunshine assured him.

Harry called on my birthday. I hadn't been to the lab in next to forever. I'd dropped out of school to be with Sunshine and yet Harry called to wish me well. I told Harry I'd be with my wife if he needed me.

I left the house only to get things for Sunshine or Mama. I sat beside Sunshine's bed when she couldn't get up and we sat together on the porch when she could. There were good days and days that weren't good. She slept a lot and ate less and less.

I was nineteen and I felt very old and very useless. Anything important someone else did for Sunshine. I was the entertainment committee and I held her hand.

I worried the trip to Key West weakened Sunshine. Maybe we should have waited until after the baby was born to take that trip?

*****

Ivan came home late in June. He spent three days at the conservancy house. I was glad Mama had decided to let Lucy monitor Sunshine. Explaining Ivan sleeping in my bed would be tricky.

Our love hadn't gone anywhere. It amazed me how fast my anger subsided and the loving began. I couldn't be within fifty feet of Ivan and not want him. It couldn't be fought or dismissed for some higher purpose. I loved Ivan with all my heart and his absence from my life didn't change that.

It was temporary relief for a permanent condition and my love for Ivan didn't alter my love for Sunshine or the baby. I told Ivan this before the loving was done long enough for me to go get us sodas.

“I'm sorry I didn't make it on your birthday, Clay. I planned to hit the road to come home to you earlier that week, but Tim Wakefield began to talk after resisting my attempt to get information out of him. I was afraid if I didn't hear what he had to say then, he'd clam up again. He had important information about Boris. I'm sorry. I wanted to be here.”

“You're home now. I love you, Ivan.”

I don't know which one of us started the kissing, but it was the middle of the night before I caught my breath.

Lucy was immediately on duty and covering for me with Mama.

Ivan gave me key chain from the towns he'd been in. I didn't get him anything for his birthday and the key chains furnished me with a strange connection to my lover.

“This is all I wanted for my birthday, Clay,” he said. “I miss you so much.”

“Then come home,” I said.

“I can't,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

One of us started the kissing again.

*****

Sunshine cheered up when she saw Ivan. She sat on the porch with us one afternoon but she spent the rest of Ivan's time there in bed. Ivan sat beside me while I fed Sunshine soup or the bread pudding with cream she loved so much.

“Is it the baby that's making Sunshine so sick?” Ivan asked just before he left.

“She has leukemia, Ivan,” I said, and Ivan's eyes widened.

He kissed me goodbye and said he had a ride to his next stop, Yazoo City, Mississippi, where Wayne Horner lived.

*****

I wanted to grab Ivan, hold him, beg him not to leave me again, but I didn't. I smiled and wished him well as he left.

*****

I slept in the chair next to Sunshine’s bed after Ivan left. I was worried she'd have one of her bad dreams. I worried she'd had one and I wasn't there to hold her and keep her safe from her past.

I cursed loving Ivan so much. I prayed for his quick return.

*****

July had its moments. The beginning of the month was uneventful. Sunshine was awake more and Lucy sat with us and Sunshine and her engaged in girl talk. There were two notable exceptions to the routine.

Early on July 17, Sunshine went into labor. We made it to the hospital with Mama and Lucy in tow. I was there through it all.

Dylan was born at 8:03 a.m on Thursday. She'd given birth within an hour of reaching the hospital. By the way Dylan scream, he was healthy and mad as hell we bothered him with being born.

Later I learned that Dylan was born at the time the Apollo 11 was leaving the earth, embarking on a journey that would put men on the moon. It was an amazing time, but I missed it. I was too busy having my son.

Dylan had no leukemia in his blood. We'd need to keep an eye on him but the odds were he'd remain healthy.

“What do you want to call him?” I asked, once Sunshine was awake and holding the baby.

Never had their been a prouder mother. Sunshine beamed as she hugged Dylan to her.

“His name is Dylan,” she announced to me.

“Like the singer?” I asked.

“Like the singer. I've loved Dylan ever since Ivan played his records at his house when I first went up there. When I asked him who it was, he said, 'That's Dylan.' I could tell he meant it.”

We brought mother and child home the day Neil Armstrong stepped from the lunar module onto the moon. It was all over the radio. I thought Ivan would be watching it somewhere.

Ivan read the space race articles in Time to me. Now Kennedy's prophecy was half fulfilled. The trick was getting them back to earth. I missed that too.

This, as so many other things did, passed me by that summer. It sounded great when I heard about it, but I had a wife and son to worry about the summer of 1969.

I had a family.

Mama gave me a crash course in diapering. When he needed a fresh diaper, Mama handed him to me.

“I diapered babies for ten years. It's your turn.”

I got a lot of practice. At first my diapers hung half off my son, when he was lucky enough to have dear ole' dad diaper him. Before long I was diapering with the best of them. It became second nature. I could get him clean, dispose of the dirty diaper, and have him in a fresh diaper in a couple of minutes.

I never did get accustomed to that smell.

While Dylan seemed healthy, Sunshine developed another problem the week after we brought them home. Sunshine stopped producing milk. Dylan refused formula.

The entire house went into a panic. I spent most of my time walking my wailing son and trying to get him to take nourishment. These were difficult days. Mama and Lucy would take the baby from me saying, “Let me try.”

Dylan wasn't going to drink formula.

*****

Dylan was beautiful as far as I was concerned. I was pretty proud of him. There was one difficulty: he cried something fierce. The boy was going to be a singer if he'd only eat.

Pop mentioned to Harry, who was home on summer recess, “Sunshine isn't producing milk. We're having no luck getting the baby to take a bottle.”

Dylan would shut up when Sunshine took him, he'd take the bottle for her, but he wasn't eating enough to keep him alive.

Mama spent a lot of time fretting over Sunshine and now Dylan. She spent time at the library searching for answers.

Mama, Lucy, and I took turns trying to get Dylan to quiet down long enough to drink some formula.

*****

The day after Pop talked to Harry, Harry showed up with Twila.

Twila was the pregnant woman from our wedding. She'd lost her baby. Harry told her about Sunshine. Twila offered to be Dylan's wet-nurse. Once she took Dylan, he went instantly silent as he took the nourishment he so badly needed. After he was fed, he fell asleep and the house fell quiet.

Twila answered our prayers and she would become much more then a wet-nurse, but that was enough for the time being.

I was allowed in the room while she nursed Dylan, but she sat with her back to me, close to Sunshine, holding Sunshine's hand while Dylan nursed. Sunshine watched adoringly as Twila did what she couldn't do for her baby. It was a wonderful thing to see.

Once Dylan had his fill, Twila handed Dylan to Sunshine. He was either sleeping or about to fall asleep as soon as he felt his mother's arms around him.

After first nursing Dylan, Twila said, “That's a healthy boy.”

We were waiting to get the results of Dylan's blood tests then. Hearing Twila pronounce him healthy was nice. Twila knew nothing about Sunshine's leukemia.

I naively asked, “What makes you say that, Twila.”

She began to laugh deep down inside herself as she smiled at me. I swear she was blushing. I didn't know if a black woman could blush. I wasn't sure if she was black, African-American, or colored. She was a life saver.

“Mr. Clay, the way that boy... latched onto me, ain't no doubt he's healthy. A woman knows by the way a child nurses.”

It made sense. I liked hearing it. Sunshine thanked Twila and held her hand for a few minutes before she let her go. Twila left breast milk in bottles, sitting with Mama in the kitchen while she did this. She'd return in the evening to feed Dylan again. She'd leave more breast milk to get him through until his morning feeding.

The first day Harry brought Twila and waited downstairs, eating coffee cake and talking to Mama. I'm sure Mama told Harry everything. He looked at me differently after that visit. I wrote it off to his concern for me, but I think Harry knew what was coming. His hugs got a bit firmer and lasted longer.

Once again Harry had extended me a hand and it was a life saver. Once Dylan found out what was in the bottles Twila left for him, he never refused one.

I'd pick Twila up in the morning near where she lived. She nursed Dylan, left bottles, and I took her to Harry's. She was his housekeeper. We reversed the process in the afternoon.

Everything was about Sunshine and Dylan and seeing to their needs. I put the rest of my life on cruise control, because I was half asleep half the time. I got up to get Dylan during the night and sat with Sunshine and Dylan until they fell asleep at night.

Twila was more than a woman supplying my son with milk. She was a friend to Sunshine and me. She treated us like we were her children. Twila was one of the best finds the Olson clan ever made.

After Twila left one morning, Sunshine asked, “How does Dylan Clayton Harry Olson sound? We can't name him Twila.”

“No we can't. Harry will be honored,” I said. “It's a lot of names.”

“Dylan's a lot of baby. Harry's been so kind, Clayton,” Sunshine reminded me.

“He has,” I agreed.

Harry hadn't hesitated to bring Twila to us. We had a need and Harry solved the problem. Twila said we were doing her the favor. She absolutely hurt from producing so much milk.

While no one said anything about Twila coming to nurse Dylan, I wasn't sure where my parents stood on the black and white thing. We never talked about it. Lucy wouldn't be a problem. She was as dedicated to equality as anyone I knew.

*****

Mama's biggest concerns were saved for Sunshine. Childbirth was a dangerous proposition, even in 1969. For a new mother in Sunshine's condition, it took all she had to give birth to our son. Mama, a mother many times over, knew the territory.

Everyone loved having a new baby in the house. Dylan was a big hit. There was no talk about Dylan's propensity to scream in the middle of the night. His lungs were developing fine, thank you. I got to him as quickly as I could, but that didn't end the screams. Taking him on the porch helped, but everyone in the conservancy house was sleep walking by the time August rolled around.

Mama would be downstairs heating the bottle and Lucy would bring it up stairs to cut down the duration of Dylan's screams.

I'd hold him and rock him on the porch in the warm Florida night. Even with us working hard to allow Pop to get some rest, he too dragged by dinner time each day, but he never complained.

Twila whispered to Dylan and Sunshine as he nursed each morning. A big busted woman with a great infectious laugh. She was fun to be around.

After Dylan was fed, she put our sleeping son in Sunshine's arms. I could see the bond developing between the two women. Even with me in the room, they shared a special bond.

Later, as Sunshine weakened, she fell asleep before Dylan was done. Twila began to put Dylan in my arms.

“No sense waking Miss Sunshine. A boy needs his daddy to hold him too. You need to hold this boy a lot, Mr. Clay,” Twila told me.

“Yes, ma'am,” I agreed.

One day when I went downstairs, Mama and Twila were in the kitchen. It was Twila's day off from 'Mr. Harry's.' When I'd picked her up that morning, she had an iron skillet with her. I didn't ask any questions.

Now, as Mama and Twila stood at the stove, it was explained.

“Now that the bacon grease is hot, swish it to season the pan. It'll be taking the grease right off. Then we pours the batter in. The batter'll curl on the edges. You puts her in the oven thirty-five minutes. Take her out. Cools it. Run yo spatula round under it. Turns it out on your cloth. You gots perfect cornbread every time, Miss Lucille. This be my mama's iron skillet. I be given it to you.”

Once the iron skillet went in the oven, Mama and Twila sat back at the table to finish breakfast. I was afraid to ask Mama about Twila, and until that minute, I wasn't sure. If she and Mama were talking cooking, Twila was in like Flynn.

We wanted to pay Twila for her services, but she wouldn't hear of it. It was the only time I saw her raise a fuss.

“This ain't no grocery store, Mr. Clay. What I provides that child comes from Twila's heart. You can't be a buyin' that. I dos appreciate the thought.”

No, you couldn't, but Mama could hire Twila to work at the conservancy house. No such move could be made without Pop signing onto it. All my questions were answered without asking the question.

Twila would be in the house all day two days a week and she nursed Dylan several times during the day, leaving bottles at night. This cut down on the driving.

I was still mostly oblivious then. Mostly my mind was on my wife and son. Even Ivan had slipped my mind during August. If he'd called, Lucy talked to him and told him what was up.

*****

As August came to an end and September took hold, Sunshine rarely got out of bed for long. This was the month the doctors would begin treatment for her leukemia.

Each time Twila finished nursing Dylan, he came to me now. Dylan had begun to take my shirt in his fists, curled up with his face turned into my chest, and if he wasn't sleeping, he fell asleep. Once he had his bottle, he would do the same thing. To the relief of everyone at the conservancy house, Dylan began to sleep more and scream less.

I often went out on the porch and rocked in case he did cry. I didn't want him to wake Sunshine or anyone else.

“Boy be knowin' his daddy's smell, Mr. Clay. When he be fat and sassy, he smell you, he knows he be safe and secure in his daddy's arms,” Twila said one afternoon.

Twila left Sunshine's room and went downstairs with Mama. She'd be teaching Mama her tips for southern cooking. They'd laugh over jokes and stories one of them had told. Mama didn't have many friends.

When Sunshine's room began to close in on me, I took to walking the beach with Dylan in my arms. I liked walking to Ivan's and I'd stand next to the river where I first spent so much time, after we arrived from Tulsa.

I noticed Dylan would turn in my arms to see the Gulf's turquoise water. It seemed to soothe him, gentle waves lapping at my feet. He'd be awake and taking in the change in surroundings.

I'd go back to sit next to Sunshine's bed and hold her hand once I'd burned off some energy.

It was peaceful then.

Some days Dylan wanted his mother. Some days he refused to let go of me. Other days I could put him in his crib and he didn't wake up. Those walks wore him out too. But it was rare for him to tolerate being put down for long. He insisted on being held and I held him.

“You're going to spoil that child,” Mama told me.

“Yes, I am,” I said.

Dylan's tests came back. He was a healthy boy. and they could find no reason he wouldn't stay that way. This made Sunshine particularly happy. She worried she'd pass her disease to her baby. She didn't and she held him and looked radiant.

“Take him, Clay. I'm tired,” she'd say and I held him close.

Harry was home all of August. Congress once again didn't have anything to do for a month. One day when I delivered Twila to his house, he came over to chat.

I said, “Oh, by the way, we're naming our son Dylan Clayton Harry Olson, Harry. Has a certain ring, don't you think?”

He couldn't speak at first. The mist in his eyes said that Harry was pleased. He put his hand on my arm and he smiled.

“That's the biggest honor I've ever had, Clay. I mean that.”

“You'll have to be at the christening. I don't know if Mama's preacher will sit still for it. There's the whole nine month deal he swears by,” I explained.

“My priest will have no such reluctance. You clear it with Sunshine. I'll clear it with my priest. When you're ready, will have a fine christening and we'll throw that boy a party.”

“You'll have to be there to hold him while he's named,” I said.

“I'll be there, Clay. I wouldn't miss it.”

“Don't you have a country to run, Congressman?”

“The country can wait. This is important,” Harry said.

Harry had already told me not to come back to work until Sunshine was better. I didn't intend to. He continued paying my salary the entire time I took off. Each time I looked at my check, I realized how blessed my life was. It always had been, except for Ivan.

Sunshine wasn't making much headway. I sat with her while she sipped soup or drank some beverage. She loved Mama's bread pudding. Mama made it fresh each day. She drove to the dairy out on the highway to Fort Myers for fresh cream to put on it to fortify Sunshine.

It's the most nourishing thing she ate and when I spooned some out of the dish, I could almost always get her to take a few bites.

One evening I ended up with my finger in the cream in the dish. Ready to whip it off, I looked at Dylan, I figured, hey, he drinks milk, maybe. Sure enough he sucked the cream off my finger and gave me a smile for my effort.

It was one of the first smiles I got out of my son. What a guy.

On Sunday evening Sunshine refused to drink or eat anything. She asked for Mama and Lucy. I got them.

They wasted no time getting to Sunshine's room.

“Clayton, let me talk to them alone, OK?”

She'd made this request a few times and it was always best for me to let the girls talk. I thought it was a good sign but as usual, what did I know?

Mama and Lucy left with tears in their eyes. I went back to see what the hell was going on.

Before I could ask, Sunshine spoke.

“Clay, take the baby for me. I'm so tired.”

“Sure,” I said, kissing her on the cheek as I lifting Dylan out of her arms.

He grabbed my shirt and turned his body so his face was against me and he went on sleeping. He was equally comfortable with Sunshine or me now. He knew we were the guys who loved him.

“You take good care of him, Clayton” she said softly.

I hardly heard and I moved my ear close to her lips.

“Don't I always. I won't let anything happen to our son.”

She mumbled a few words and I moved my ear closer.

“I love you so much, Clayton,” she said softly.

Then in hardly a whisper, she said four words that stunned me. It was something I needed to know. It was something I wasn't about to forget. Those four words had me cherishing Dylan even more.

I told no one about Sunshine's last words until I told Dylan when he was nearly five and asking for answers. I saved those words and told him what he wanted to know.

I sat with Sunshine for a few minutes before taking Dylan to rock on the porch outside my bedroom, still pondering what Sunshine said.

*****

It was an unusually dark Sunday night. There was no moon or stars, but I could hear the Gulf waters a few hundred feet away.

I had no idea I was about to endure the worst days of my life.

*****

Sunshine died on Monday.

It rained.

Chapter 11

A Long Goodbye

I held my son, rocking him on the porch outside my bedroom and I cried.

Pop left a message for Harry to call him at the conservancy house at his earliest possible convenience. My father, like me, was overtaken by Sunshine's death and he had no idea what else to do.

He was too shaken to go to work.

Harry called his secretary each morning to check his messages at the conservancy. As soon as Harry heard Pop's message, he called the conservancy house. The message told him something had gone seriously wrong. My father never left a message for Harry when he was in Washington. Pop hadn't missed a day's work in the six years he'd worked for Harry.

Harry had inquired about Sunshine's health to my father often. He had some idea her condition was serious. When Sunshine took a turn for the worse, she was gone in a week. None of us were prepared for it.

Shortly before noon Mama called Pop to the phone.

My father told Harry that Sunshine died during the night and the family was not doing that well. He told him work would be impossible until his daughter-in-law was put to rest and Pop didn't know where to start.

“Do you have a place for her, John?” Harry asked.

“They've just come for her, Harry. We haven't had time to take a breath. I don't know what we'll do. We're in shock at the moment.”

“If Clay has no objections, I'll make the arrangements. I've buried my father and one of my brothers in the last two years. I need make only one call to set the process in motion. I've done business with the proper parties and they know me. Tell Clay I'll be on my way home in... two hours. I have a vote to make at one. After that, I'll be in the air within a half hour.”

“Clay will be glad to hear that, Harry. You go ahead and make the call on my say so. I can't think at the moment. That would be a big help. Clay's not up to this.”

“It'll take them two hours to have the plane on the runway ready to go. In the mean time I'll set the wheels in motion to take care of Sunshine before I leave the Capitol. All the Olsons need to do is mourn. Give Clay my best. Tell him my thoughts are with him, John. I feel so bad for him and all the Olsons. She was such a beautiful girl.”

“Thank you, Harry. I wasn't sure how I was going to get through this. It's like I'm about to bury one of my own children. She'd become part of our family.”

“How's Clay taking it, John.”

“Not well. He has Dylan at the moment. He hasn't let go of him since Twila fed him earlier.”

The phone call ended and the responsibility for making the arrangements for Sunshine passed from Pop to Harry. I wasn't going to be any help to anyone. I knew nothing about burying someone. I had no thoughts about a funeral or what to do.

I'd been rocking on the porch outside my bedroom with Dylan in my arms since they took Sunshine away. Then Pop came up to tell me about Harry's call.

“Harry is going to make the arrangements for Sunshine. He's on his way home, Clay. He's worried about you.”

I nodded, feeling temporary relief for a problem I hadn't considered. Of course Sunshine had to be buried.

I felt relief because Pop didn't need to do it. I was nineteen and unacquainted with the ceremony surrounding death. I was just becoming accustomed to being alive.

*****

Hard wasn't a word I knew when it came to my life. Everything had been too easy for me. The year before I was dealing with Boris being gone. As awkward as my relationship with Ivan became after that, he was just up the beach when I couldn't be with him.

I thought Ivan would always be just up the beach.

Dealing with the loss of his brother wasn't easy on either of us and I wouldn't crowd him when he was drowning his sorrow in booze. Then I dealt with Ivan leaving the beach. It was like death of a sorts. He was coming back, one day, I thought. It's what he said and it was still my hope he would. He called less frequently once I married Sunshine. When he did call, it was to update me on what was going on concerning his search for Boris. He always said he loved me.

Sunshine didn't take Ivan's place. She'd created a place for herself in my life. I couldn't be with the person I loved completely and I couldn't love completely the person I was with. Sunshine gave my life a depth it hadn't had before she came into it.

There was no passion in my relationship with Sunshine but there was affection. I wouldn't have married her if I didn't love her. Sunshine wasn't looking for passion. She was looking for a safe haven. Passion was how she paid her way as a young girl out on her own.

She knew the price if she wanted to be fed and relatively safe. The currency of teenage street people was simply sex. Take it or leave it. It was a suit yourself world. If you didn't mind not eating, you could refuse to play the game.

How long could someone go without food?

Being with me allowed her to relax. Our friendship was unconditional. I wanted her to be herself and I assured her I had no desire to jump her bones.

Sunshine knew far more about life than I did. She gave me an education while enjoying my company and concerns for her. She was just fine the way she was and now she was gone.

The time I'd been spending with Ivan, I now spent with Sunshine. She'd merged into my life while I did a final favor for Ivan. Speaking of preordained blessings in my life, Sunshine was one of those. For nearly a year she'd filled the void Ivan left. She'd done it her way and she departed on her own terms.

I'd be perfectly alone now, if Sunshine hadn't given me the gift of Dylan. He was all that was left as proof of Sunshine's existence. Her body was empty, life gone from it. She'd gone on to whatever comes next, but she'd left me with a life to cherish and care for.

Like Sunshine didn't replace Ivan, Dylan didn't replace Sunshine, but he was my responsibility. I wouldn't have time to mourn for long. No matter what I intended to do, Dylan came first. Now I had to go to school, work, and make something of myself for my son's sake.

I sat and rocked on the porch outside my bedroom next to the empty rocker Sunshine would take so she could rock beside me. My rocking wasn't in vain. There was a lot to think about. After all was said and done, Dylan was at the center of my universe and I his.

There would be an overwhelming grief and sorrow for the next few days. It would pass and we'd go on with living. I would go on with what I'd started before Boris disappeared, before Ivan left, and before Sunshine came into and left my life.

My life's plan was waiting for me to show up. Out of sorrow came the next blessings. I can't pretend I understood it then. I can't say I understand it now.

I didn't believe in God, but every day, in the Gulf and under it, I observed the power of the universe at work around me. I believed in the power of the universe. This was what my life was about.

*****

The Olsons were short some kids. We'd made a place at our table for Sunshine. It required Mama alter some clothes, Lucy seeing her as the sister she never had, and I took a second rocker from the storage shed to the third floor porch.

Sunshine settled into our lives as if we were made for her. She'd been created to make us smile for a little while. Mama adored her. Pop saw her as an innocent sunny child, not unlike his own children.

Standing in the doorway to her room, I tried to remember if she'd really been there and how she could be gone so fast?

A year was suddenly too little time to get to know someone. We didn't even get a whole year.

Sunshine wanted to have her baby. She believed Dylan would be someone special without knowing how special she was. Hadn't she noticed our reaction to her? If she saw us now she'd know our hearts was breaking.

Dylan gave me a purpose. From the time Twila left, after feeding him that morning, he'd slept in my arms, unaware of his loss. I couldn't stop crying but I didn't stop thinking either. I saw my future and it hadn't changed since the day I walked up the beach to get Sunshine. My future was still right there waiting for me.

Dylan would never know his mother but he'd know more love than most children. Everyone in the conservancy house would mother him. I'd double as his daddy when he needed it.

Dylan loved the “Sunshine room.” It was his room. He related the sunshine to the murals Mama and Lucy painted for his mother. In his room the sun would always shine.

I'd see to his needs. If I couldn't provide something that was important, my family would furnish it, and we'd learn to smile again, when we talked about Sunshine. She'd made an impact on us, even though she left us before we were ready to let her go.

*****

“You OK, Clay?” Pop asked, as I rocked and wasn't completely aware of him as my mind sorted through my sorrow.

“I think so,” I said.

I rocked with Dylan in my arms and Pop in the doorway.

“Harry, called,” Pop said, relating the conversation to me.

“Is that OK with you, Pop?” I asked, wanting my father to tell me he approved of Harry's plan.

“Like Harry said, he knows everyone. I don't know who to call or where to start, Clay. I'd ask someone for advice. He inquired about you.”

“It's not about me. It's about Dylan now,” I said. “We'll have to make sure he has everything he needs, Pop,” I said, wanting to reassure myself he would.

“I think that's why Sunshine let go of life so easily. She knew Dylan was in the right place, Clay. We'll do all we can for him,” Pop said thoughtfully. “She trusted us to do no less.”

“The last words she spoke to me were, “Take good care of Dylan.”

Then she added four words so softly I needed to put my ear close to her lips to hear. She'd saved those words for me. I'd keep them safe until Dylan was old enough to hear them, and then I'd say those words to him. As I didn't need to know, neither did anyone else.

I knew why she'd saved them until that moment. I'd never asked her for the answer to the question the four words answered. I married Sunshine to give her my name. I married Sunshine so Dylan had a father. I didn't need to know any more than that. I wasn't going to ask her the question.

“Harry'll be home later today. Are you up to talking to him. I have a feeling he'll want to see you to assure himself you're OK.”

“I'll want to thank him, Pop. As long as you say it's OK, I'll tell him we appreciate his help. He does a lot for me.”

“Harry understands how special you are, Clay. You were inspirational to him. He deciding on the direction he wanted the conservancy to go in because of your interest in the Gulf.”

My father was not an emotional man but he too was dealing with sorrow. He'd always taken care of his family. He found a way to keep us safe even at the worst times. Sunshine's death reminded us how fragile life could be.

The Olsons had been lucky with death, until now.

I'd need to let go of her and focus on my son, but not yet. It was too soon to stop mourning. It was too soon not to expect her to call my name. It was too soon for me to stop waking to listen to make sure she was OK.

*****

Twila returned by lunch time. Harry had called his house and told Reginald to bring her over to be available to keep Dylan fed.

Once I rocked myself out, not sure of what to do next, I took Dylan downstairs and found Mama, Lucy, and Twila sitting in the kitchen with coffee cups in front of them. No one spoke. They sat vigil, having nothing else to do.

“Where's Pop?” I asked, noticing he was missing.

“Where do you think? Your father is at work. Work takes his minds off his pain. Your father thought of Sunshine as his daughter.”

“The baby still asleep?” Twila asked, looking at him in my arms..

“Yes, ma'am. He hasn't stirred since you left at nine. As long as I rock him, he's happy as a clam. Me too.”

They'd all been crying, but so had I. It wasn't something I invented. It wasn't something we could hide. I was cried out for now.

I got a cup of coffee and put one of the buttered biscuits on a plate. It was all there was. Nothing had been cooked that morning. When I sat down, Dylan was watching his father pig out. I swear he was smiling, not making a sound. Maybe he suspected a treat was on the way.

With butter on my finger I put it on his lips. He immediately took it in his mouth and began to learn the delights of fresh butter Mama bought at the dairy along with the cream for Sunshine's bread pudding.

“Look at that child. He be loving his daddy,” Twila said.

“You're a good father, Clay,” Lucy said admiringly.

“A young father.” Mama couldn't resist reminding me.

Mama still wasn't sure about me and fatherhood. She hadn't forgotten how I'd disappointed her over the last year. She believed I deceived her about Sunshine.

Mama was a good mother. She could do anything a woman was responsible to do. She could do many thing most woman couldn't do, because Mama did what needed doing. She'd also jumped to conclusions about her youngest son.

It would take five years for her to realize her mistake. Mama was not a woman you wanted to cross, but arguing with her was no contest for me. I knew the truth and I didn't need to convince her. She'd land some body blows over the next few years, but in time she'd admit her error.

I'd all but broken with my family, once I became a fisherman on Mr. Aleksa's boat. It wasn't exactly a full time job, but it had me out of the house for three days and nights a week. When I came home in those days, I came home to Ivan's house next to the river.

For most of three years I was independent, except for meals. I didn't feel that connected to my family. I felt completely connected to the Aleksas. I loved that I was part of the fishing fleet. What I learned as a fisherman brought me full circle back to my family.

When I came back, I was working for Pop at the conservancy, but it was Harry who ran the show. Harry presented me with the opportunity of a life time, after introducing me to a world I hadn't imagined existed a few feet below the hull of the Vilnius Two.

Everything was changing in the spring of 1968. I'd been noticed by Harry McCalister. He introduced me to his marine biologist friend, Bill Payne. Bill introduced me to the future that grew out of my interest in the things that came out of the sea.

Harry was quick to see that my interest and his coincided. His concerns for the Gulf had him wanting to preserve the Gulf and what lived in it. Harry and I were on the same page.

I gave up the fisherman's life to get the education Harry offered me. He'd pay my way. I'd work for him while I studied the sea. I liked him and I liked his plan. It was a very good plan.

Once Boris met his fate in Vietnam, it turned my life upside down. Luckily the conservancy was there to keep me focused on something besides what Ivan was going through.

Everything changed when Boris was wounded. I had reintegrated back into my family by then and I was on my way to becoming a marine biologist. I could have been distracted, but I wasn't.

Being able to investigate the creatures that fascinated me was a step up from the observations I made on the fishing boat. I would begin to understand the sea creatures and their environment.

Until Harry put the pieces in place, studying the creatures and keeping their environment safe never occurred to me. Once it did, it's what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn't work but it was a career.

Sunshine was a favor I was doing for Ivan, because she came to his house, and he didn't know how to get her to leave before he left to go in search of Boris. Ivan and I found a way to deal with the situation, but he had a problem he didn't have time to solve.

Once I took Sunshine to the conservancy house, she didn't leave, until now, almost a year later. I sat with our son sucking on my finger, until the butter was gone, and then he focused on Twila and he began to squirm. Oh how that boy could fuss.

It was time to eat.

Twila lifted him out of my arms and he went expectantly quiet. Mama got Twila a tea towel and she took Dylan into the dining room to be fed. It's the first time I'd let go of him, except for two diaper changes, since Twila fed him that morning.

I was fine. My mind refused to stop. The thoughts kept going round and round. Why Sunshine? Why now?

Mama, Lucy, and I sat silent, thinking, or not, about what had been lost overnight. Our lives were changed. We would regroup and pick a direction soon, but not yet.

*****

I needed to talk to Ivan but I was afraid of what would happen when I did. I couldn't hide my emotions from him. He'd know before I told him that something was wrong, and yet he was the only one who could console me, and then, only if he came home to hold me.

I had no hope Ivan would stop his search because of me. I couldn't ask him to come home. As much as I needed him, I wouldn't do that to him. My heart told me he'd come home if I asked. Doubts wouldn't allow me to risk rejection from the man I loved.

*****

Congressman Harry McCalister was a man of his word. He knew everyone. He knew who to talk to and what to say.

His plane landed late that afternoon on a strip near his house. The twin engine Apache, his latest plane, he purchased to make the trip to D. C. and back. He landed at Hyde Field, Maryland, ten miles from the Capitol. He bought his first plane while he was elected to the state legislature. He wanted to eliminate his time in airports.

Reginald drove him to the house without Harry stopping to shower or eat. He wanted to let the Olson family know he was home and arrangements for Sunshine had been made.

Most men would have called.

“I can't tell you how sorry I am, Clayton,” He said, grasping my hand and forearm before hugging me warmly. “What do you need, son? What can I do for you?”

“Pop said....” I began.

“No, I've taken care of that. I have a place to show you not far from your laboratory. You'll like it. It was certified for burials for my family years ago, but we've never used it. When you're ready, I'll take you there. Not today, it's getting dark, but when you're ready. You call me any time if you need something? I'll be home until we take care of Sunshine.”

The tears began rolling. He hugged me again. I couldn't speak.

“I wish I could take away the pain,” Harry said softly.

“You have,” I said. “Thanks. You came home for Sunshine?”

“I came home for you, Clay. You're a major part of the future of the conservancy. Seeing that you're OK is one of my priorities.”

“I haven't done much lately,” I said. “I'm sorry, Harry.”

“You are important to me. I regret I couldn't do something for Sunshine, but I've cleared my calendar. I'll do what I can. There's nothing essential I need to attend to in Washington.”

Harry talked to Twila and asked her to stay at the conservancy house until after Sunshine's funeral so she could take care of Dylan. She would go with Reginald to make arrangements for a neighbor to look in on her children.

Two of Twila's daughters were almost grown and they took care of the younger kids when Twila wasn't home. Mama packed the food she'd cooked for dinner, letting Twila take the meal with her so her kids got fed.

The Olsons could mourn without needing to take care of details. Mama got busy fixing dinner for the second time Monday. It was how she handled difficult days. When she cooked, she was in her element.

*****

We buried Sunshine on one of the brightest days I can remember. Not a cloud in the sky but a brisk westerly wind blew off the Gulf.

The spot where the services were held belonged to Harry's family. From the hill you could see the conservancy and the laboratory on one side and the Gulf of Mexico on the other.

I was able to see the hill from my window in the lab. Later, I put a marker on her grave so I could locate her place in a glance. Dylan and I walked there as he grew and spent more time at the lab.

I stood holding Dylan beside Sunshine's grave on this day. I couldn't sit. I didn't want to be too close to the grave. Dylan didn't know what was going on. In fact he slept through it all, but I worried that one day he'd tell me he remembered the hole in the ground where I put his mother.

Mama and Pop, Lucy, and Twila sat together in the front row of the seats that were provided. No one suggested I shouldn't stand or move around.

As the short services started, Harry stood on one side of me and Captain Popov stood on the other. It didn't stop me from feeling alone, but they saw to it I wasn't. I must have been a sight to see. I'd cried myself out by Wednesday. but Thursday morning I was at it again, When I realized what I had to do. They more overflowed than ran and they wouldn't stop. The bright sun warranted sunglasses, but I didn't wear mine. I was too numb to care.

Mostly people kept their distance. Perhaps that's why Harry and Captain Popov stood sentry. I wasn't able to talk and the one person I would have talked to wasn't there, and that made me angry.

The fishing fleet had returned a day early. They wouldn't go out again until tomorrow. It was another sign of respect I didn't think I deserved, but seeing them reminded me of who I had once been.

I hadn't gone out with the fleet in over a year, but to them I was still a fisherman. I was never far from the fleet or the sea. It was a connection we would always share.

Dylan slept, my shirt in his fists, his face buried in my chest. Twila fed him just before we left the house. He was unaware of what we were about to do. I'd explain it to him in time, but for now he slept, protected from the stiff winds of the world.

Dylan was a comfort. It was a scary prospect to be responsible for such a tiny fellow. I was only just past being a child. I had only just begun charting my future, but I had him to live for and to care for. I would never again be the center of my universe. Dylan took his place there now.

This wasn't like Ivan leaving. There was no longer a Sunshine. She wouldn't be back but I'd see her clearly every time I looked at Dylan. I'd see her smile and hear her laugh. There wouldn't be any time to be lonely. My future and my son would keep me busy.

This wasn't what I was thinking while I stood on that hill, but it's what I'd figure out as time added distance between Sunshine and me.

Harry provided a mahogany casket. The lining was pink and a red heart was embroidered above her on the lid. I told him to take the cost of her funeral out of my pay. He said he would. He never did.

As time went on, he claimed he couldn't afford to pay me what I was truly worth, but he took up the slack when I ran into trouble.

The wind whipped our pants legs. I was anxious and I was exhausted. I wasn't connected to anything that happened. I was there but I wasn't. My mind wasn't able to grasp onto the priest's words. It was thankfully short and sweet. I was numb, unable to think, unable to stop thinking. I was unable to cry, unable to stop crying.

I was a mess.

After the service, Captain Popov put an envelope into my hand before speaking to me.

“This will help. It's from the fishing fleet, Clay. Nicky sends his condolences. He apologizes for not being able to get here.”

“You talked to Ivan's father?” I asked, taking note of the man who first let me go out on the Gulf.

“I did. He is well and sad for you. He inquired about your son.”

“Thank you, Captain Popov,” I said. “Thank him for me when you talk.”

“Just Popov, Clay. We still remember you as the boy angel of the fishing fleet. We never did so well as when you came to fish with us. If there is anything Popov can do for you, you come see him. I told Nicky I'd look after you.”

His heavy Russian brogue made me smile. I remembered his voice booming over Mr. Aleksa's radio on the Vilnius Two the first time I fished on the Gulf. No one had a voice like Popov's.

“Thank you, Popov. That means a lot,” I said. “Thank the fisherman for me.”

“Consider it done. We said a prayer for your wife when we heard.”

Popov patted my shoulder, smiled at my son, and walked away.

“You've made many friends on the island, Clayton Olson,” Harry said, as he watched Popov's departure.

Captain Popov met Captain Tito. He was standing behind the seats with fisherman I knew from my time with the fleet. They wanted to be there for me. Popov was the leader of the fishing fleet.

“You call me if you need anything. I wish there was more I could do for you. Don't rush back to work. Spend time with your son.” Harry advised, sounding more like a father than my boss.

“I can't thank you enough, Harry. I've never known anyone who is as considerate as you are. You treat me like I'm your son, and I appreciate it. I won't let you down. I'll need a few more days. I'll enroll in school and start classes on time. I'll call Bill Payne when he gets back and I'll tell him I'm ready to get busy.”

“He'd be here if he knew about Sunshine, Clay. He's out in the Atlantic on a research vessel. I didn't try to contact him. He'd just feel bad that he couldn't be here. He'll be back next week and I'll give him a rundown when we talk.”

“It's OK, Harry. I understand. Thanks again. Thanks for letting us borrow Twila. Speaking of angels, she's been one for us.”

There was finality that came with the funeral. There was a comfort in almost everyone I knew coming to bid farewell to Sunshine. She would have been surprised by so many people.

The major absence was Ivan's. I doubted he could have made it home in time, even if he knew what had happened. I made no attempt to contact Sunshine's people. Her name, Joy Gabriel Johnson, written on our marriage license, never registered with me, until later on. They hadn't appreciated her while she was part of their family and she hadn't once mentioned wanting to contact them.

She was Sunshine Olson on Dylan's birth certificate. That's who she was when she died.

That's who Sunshine would be for eternity.

Chapter 12

Stabilizing

Ivan called the Sunday after we buried Sunshine.

Lucy yelled for me to come to the phone Sunday afternoon.

“Clay, it's for you!” Lucy yelled from the foyer.

I'd just put Dylan in his crib. I hesitated for a few seconds to see if he would wake up. He didn't. I headed for the door. As I turned the knob, I stopped, going back to make sure Dylan was breathing.

He was.

I went out on the landing and raced downstairs to take the call I'd been waiting for since forever. Lucy stayed to hand me the phone. She reached out to hold my free hand, knowing this wouldn't be easy.

I wasn't sure what to say to him. I was angry. Ivan wasn't here when I needed him. I knew it wasn't his fault, but that didn't help. I made it easy for him to go and call when he felt like it.

I never knew I'd need him the way I needed him now, but he was on his own mission. Why did I think he should race home to me because I was hurting? I didn't know a lot of things.

How could Sunshine just die?

There was a mixed bag of feelings by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs. If he immediately said, 'I'm on the way,' any more conversation would delay him. It was a nice thought but I hadn't told him about Sunshine yet. What could he do?

'Better late than never,' I thought, or was it?

Ivan didn't know trouble had come to the beach. I wanted to tell him how much I cared about him. How much I missed him. It didn't take long to figure out how much I needed him. I didn't realize there were times like these, until the time came.

My mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions, points I wanted to make. How did I let him know how desperately I needed him to come home? I needed him to hold me. I needed him to tell me that we were all right.

Lucy squeezed my hand when I didn't speak.

“Ivan!” I said, trying to collect all those thoughts so I'd sound half way intelligent.

I watched my feet shuffling under me. My eyes were burning.

“Hey, how's it hanging, stud,” Ivan said happily.

Lucy hadn't said anything to him. She didn't know what to say either, but Lucy knew that hearing from Ivan might set my emotions off again. I was determined not to lose control.

“OK,” I said, watching my feet moving without me moving them.

I tried to swallow but couldn't. I couldn't think straight. I was fighting back the tears now.

“What's wrong, Clay?” he asked.

“I... Sunshine....”

That was it. The tears rolled and the sobs came next. I put down the pone. Maybe Lucy might be able to tell him.

I headed for the stairs.

“Hello, Ivan,” Lucy said as I reached the second level.

She'd stayed close just in case. She knew her brother well.

“No, he's not doing too well. Sunshine died Monday, Ivan. We're all a bit low at the moment. Can you call in a few days? Bye.”

Opening my bedroom door, I waited until I heard Lucy hang up. I went to the crib and looked at my son, easing him into my arms. I took him out on the porch to rock him and watch the glorious Gulf.

I wondered if Dylan could dream yet.

The tears stopped. I had so much to say to Ivan. I was helpless without him.

What I feared, before I didn't say what I had to say to Ivan, was telling him about Sunshine and hearing him say, 'What do you expect me to do, Clay? I'm a million miles away,' and he was.

That was my fear but I was too lame to tell him about Sunshine, but now he knew. What difference it would make, I didn't know.

*****

I didn't recall where Ivan had been last or where he was heading next, but during the night on Monday or early Tuesday, he was home.

I woke up in Ivan's arms.

I forgot we weren't together any longer. At first it was just like old times. Then I became certain I was dreaming. It wasn't unlike a hundred dreams I'd had since he left.

I didn't want to wake up. I liked the comfort I got from this dream. There was only stark reality that faced me when I woke. I'd had all the reality I could take for now. I wanted to dream nice dreams.

Hanging between sleep and wakefulness, wanting to be held forever, I heard Ivan's clear distinctive voice.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Ivan whispered in my ear as his arms tightened around me.

“Ivan!” I said. “Oh Ivan.”

Twisting in his arms until I could kiss his lips. The familiar feel of his body against mine was welcome relief from my misery.

Ivan was home. He hadn't disappear when I woke up. This time the dream was real and so was our love.

Happiness surged through me. It approached pure joy. For a minute, as I hugged my body against his, I put everything but Ivan out of my mind. Life was perfect. We were OK. Ivan was home.

Then I cried. I sobbed. I shook with grief, and Ivan held me close until I fell asleep from exhaustion. I'd finally let my emotions out.

When I woke up, I felt better. Ivan was holding me. I looked at his face, watching his eyes open as he sensed me looking at him. His smile lit up the room.

“You OK, babe? I'm worried about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't get her faster.”

“I'm fine now. You came home,” I said. “I love you so much. You don't know how much.”

“I'm not a space cadet, Clay. I'm sorry I wasn't here for you sooner. I'll stay as long as you need me,” he foolishly offered.

“I need you forever, Ivan. I want to be together forever.”

“I know,” he said, realizing his mistake.

He wanted to stay for as long as it took for me to get back into the fight. He'd come home to be beside me until my strength returned and the ground under me became stable again.

He didn't say he put his search for Boris on hold for me but he did. I was grateful I could see him, touch him, and hold him close. I would take what he gave me. No matter how long he stayed, I'd want him to stay longer.

He came home without me asking. That said everything I needed to know. My fears that he wouldn't put his search on hold for me were unfounded. Even though we hadn't been together for a year, we were still together.

There were many kinds of love. His love for Boris had deeper roots than his love for me. It didn't make one love superior to the other but I was safe at home. He didn't worry about me. Boris was lost and there was no way to know what condition he was in.

Nothing was closer than family. We didn't always get along, and Mama may have loved one of us best, but these were the people who shaped me for better or for worse.

The tie to a good family was nearly unbreakable, even when you are breaking away from it. The family you grew up in is reinforced by the family you have. I'd seen all these cycles now.

If one of my brothers went missing, like Teddy, I wouldn't know how to go about finding him. When Teddy came to mind and I worried if he was safe or not, I'd go to Pop. So far each time the subject came up, Pop said, “Teddy's fine. You know I can't tell you more.”

Teddy was missing from my life but not from the family as long as Pop heard from him and knew he was safe. Ivan didn't have that reassurance. The government had the only information about Boris. The official word was, Boris Aleksa is an MIA, lost in a war zone, during a military action.

Unofficially there were almost fifty men who were in his company. They were in the battle with Boris. Unofficially they were the key to Ivan's search.

“What are they telling you, Ivan?”

“So far I'm getting the same story from each of them.”

“What's the point if they all tell you the same thing.”

“Not exactly the same thing, close though. Military men are indoctrinated to respond as a unit. There is group think because of their programming, but each gives me something I didn't have before. I figure there are a few who weren't as easy to program. They may have seen things from a different perspective and saw something their buddies didn't see. That's my hope.”

The family I couldn't wait to escape, once I went to work for Mr. Aleksa on his fishing boat, I ran back to when I didn't know what else to do. Now I depended on them in ways I never did before. The bond between us stretched but didn't break.

They took me back as though I'd never been gone. I left them but they never left me. We grew closer, stronger, until now, and now Ivan was the only one who could furnish what I needed.

As big a comfort as my family had become, Ivan was the answer to my prayers. He could save me from myself, which would give me time to heal.

I'd gone through a lot of transitions, thinking I was grown up, thinking I'd never grow up. My family never blinked. When I was living at Ivan's, my parents knew I was within easy reach. When I was gone for days on end, they knew I was with Ivan's father on his fishing boat. There was risk but it went with my employment. My parents didn't deny me that freedom. I was growing up.

Even now, when Dylan kept everyone up at night, no one complained. He was an Olson. He was the continuation of the Olson family. It didn't mean they weren't crankier than usual, but as difficult as Dylan could be, his presence revitalized us. The cycle had begun anew. Our family was young again through him.

Dylan and I would still be living in the conservancy house when Ivan finally came home for good, because our family lived there. It's where Dylan lived. It was the only home he knew and I would not move him until he was ready and willing to move, and over the years the conservancy house was a nurturing place to be.

I grew up with Mama's guidance and Pop's patience. They taught me by example to be a decent, caring person. That didn't mean we got along all the time. Even when I was misunderstood and not doing what they wanted, they knew I was a good kid. I knew they loved me. As far as Mama's too nosy, too angry God, she believed in him and the wrath he dished out to helpless humans when he had a bad day. To respect Mama I had to acknowledge her God as real, no matter how I felt on the subject.

Mama, her God, and I weren't done clashing yet. In spite of Dylan being the apple of everyone's eye, there were certain ideas Mama had that started with Sunshine and me. Dylan was also Mama's reminder of those ideas. I mistook her silence for acceptance.

I didn't realize how much Sunshine's death impacted Mama, but I'd find out once she assigned blame, according to her God of course. She somehow knew her God's mind and she'd only be capable of remaining silent on the subject for so long.

Pop's reaction to Sunshine's death was like mine. He was sad, depressed, and lost interest in most things. He worked to escape the house where Sunshine's light shined brightest. Sunshine was his daughter after all.

I don't know where Pop stood on Mama's God; he never said.

The people in the conservancy house lost their way after Sunshine was gone. The house grew quiet and it had an empty sound. Twila brought laughter and happiness in from outside. One would think she'd never known loss in her life, but she'd learned there was nothing to be done but go on. As close as she'd become to Sunshine, she took solace furnishing life sustaining milk for Dylan.

Twila's God was as real as Mama's but her God was easier on people when they fell on hard times.

As Ivan watched the goings on at our house, no one noticed he was in my bed each morning. Well, no one said anything about him being in my bed each morning. We were all delighted he was at the table each evening, and he had to sleep somewhere.

Each morning we received our wake up call between two and three. Ivan covered his head with the pillow and sighed, when I got up to move Dylan closer to the bottle we'd have warming soon.

Twila nursing Dylan at six most mornings and that was Ivan's next wake up call. I explained how it was Twila came to nurse Dylan. He was amazed by this, being in the dark about such things. If you didn't know what a wet nurse was, how'd you find out?

Ivan had none of the advantages I had. I don't know how he'd grown to be so strong and so smart, virtually on his own. In some ways I felt like he was luckier than I was to be on his own. That's until I went home to let my family protect me.

I suspected, because Ivan had so little family, his need to rescue his brother grew stronger. Boris was all he had in the way of siblings. His mother and father were not close. I lived at Ivan's from the time I turned fifteen, until I was eighteen, and I never saw Mrs. Aleksa. Working for Mr. Aleksa, I saw him on a regular basis.

The only time I saw Ivan's mother was when she came to the house next to the river to tell Mr. Aleksa that his son was lost. Like my father with Sunshine, Mr. Aleksa was sad, depressed, and he worked to keep his mind off of his missing son.

Ivan had one advantage I didn't have. He had two countries and a grandfather who told him all about the 'old country.'

Ivan's grandfather was an adventurer, a hero, he slipped the noose the Soviet Union had around Lithuania, and he escaped to the West. With his family hidden on board his fishing boat, and with an extra fuel tank he'd taken months to fill, the elder Aleksa sailed out of Vilnius harbor under the nose of the KGB agent the elder Aleksa plied with fish for the year before he made a run for it.

Ivan and his grandfather were close and Ivan spent the summers with him in the house next to the river. Ivan knew about the world in which he lived and he'd learned some Lithuanian, while learning about the country of his father's birth.

Ivan's father did not fish with his father. He lived with Ivan's mother in Tampa. Boris and Ivan were together as they grew. When the elder Aleksa died, Ivan's father moved his family into the house next to the river and took over the fishing boat he refused to fish on as long as his father was on it.

I came on the scene at fourteen. Ivan and I made fast friends. Once we were fifteen, his father allowed us to help on the boat with the kid, Kenny, he'd taken in when he found him homeless.

Ivan and I were practically inseparable for four years, until the news came about Boris when we were eighteen. Ivan got sad, depressed, and drunk in that order. Our relationship was on the skids, until he straightened his act out and decided he'd find Boris.

Ivan's family did battle and lived in different places his entire life. His brother loved him and deserted him. His mother was devious and determined to have her way in spite of Mr. Aleksa's wish to raise his sons on the water.

It was a family in name only, and yet when Boris was lost, Ivan made up his mind he'd find him. I couldn't imagine what that was like, but I knew Ivan was determined to do what he set out to do.

I didn't stand in his way. I didn't want to lose him, even when not objecting meant losing him for an unknown amount of time. Had I argued or been disagreeable, I'd be alone now. Instead the man I loved was holding me at night and helping me to grow stronger.

No one else could have rescued me and Ivan coming home meant he put me first, even when it came to his search. That meant a lot to me, even if I knew he'd leave in the end.

*****

Ivan and I put aside our passion for the time being. I wasn't up to it and Ivan sensed that. He read me like a book. Being far more passionate than I was, it was another concession he made for me. We didn't go there but we shared more affection than we ever had.

I grew stronger by the day.

If there was such a thing as perfection at a time like that, I found it with Ivan. What mattered was that we were together.

*****

The first time Dylan let loose with a scream the night Ivan came home, I deserted Ivan's arms, whisking Dylan up in a nanosecond. Working on my cutoffs with one hand, trying to soothe my son long enough to get downstairs to the kitchen.

I heard Ivan hit the stairs behind me as I left the foyer, entering the dining room. I hoped Ivan put his pants on. Mama or Lucy wouldn't be far behind me if they weren't already in the kitchen. When I hit the kitchen door, Lucy was standing at the stove. The bottle was in the pan of water and Lucy was turning on the heat.

“Morning, Clay. Morning Dylan,” Lucy sang, never being stressed by the early wake up call.

“Morning, Lucy,” I said. “Thanks. He's wound up this morning. He must have gotten plenty of rest yesterday.”

“Two or three minutes and we'll be in business,” Lucy said, looking at the timer she'd just set.

I opened the back door and stepped onto the porch. I found the night sky brightly lit. It may have been three or four, I calculated. There was no sign of first light as Dylan wailed on.

I considered investing in ear plugs if I intended to keep my hearing. Some divers used them to keep the water out of their ears.

I wondered if they'd work on Dylan's high frequency screams.

I had good timing. When I opened the door, Lucy was shaking drops of milk on her wrist to be sure it was OK for Dylan.

“What's Cumberland, Maryland like, Ivan?” Lucy asked, as I noticed Ivan sitting at the table in the shadows.

“It's rural. Cool at night. Wonderful sleeping weather. I rarely woke up at night.”

Lucy laughed.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of babies,” she said.

“The people are OK, I guess. No babies to speak of. Not that I heard anyway. How can something so tiny make so much noise? I thought a jet was landing on the roof.”

I laughed, shoving the nipple in Dylan's mouth, savoring the instant silence when it hit my ears.

“You were in Cumberland?” I asked, as Dylan and I joined them at the table now that my son had what he wanted.

Lucy put a welcome cup of coffee in front of me. We all drank at the same time.

“I hit the highway right after we talked Sunday. A guy picked me up in five minutes. I was in Atlanta by nine Monday morning. It took two rides to get home from there. It would have been another half day's walk if the last guy didn't bring me to your driveway,” Ivan said. “I was here before midnight. That's all it takes, a bottle? Who knew? I was afraid he'd blow a gasket for a minute. I'd keep the bottle closer to the bed if I were you.”

“He does like his milk,” I said, watching Dylan drink happily.

“You look like you know what you're doing,” Ivan said. “When I left last year, you were just a big kid. Now you're a father with a kid.” Ivan said, sounding amazed.

“I guess we're growing up, Ivan,” I said.

He looked at me and then he looked at Lucy. He finally looked at the baby in my lap as he joyfully emptied the bottle.

“He's all wrinkly. Couldn't you get one they ironed first? He's pretty small,” Ivan said. “Does it scare you? I'd be scared I'd break it.”

“Yes, it's scary, but I'm all he's got now,” I said. “I'm the guy who is responsible for him for as long as he'll put up with me.”

I could see Ivan working on what I said. If he came home to be with me, he would need to deal with Dylan too.

A few minutes later, Mama came into the kitchen. I watched her eyes light up when she saw Ivan. Ivan stood up to get a hug. He was a head taller than she was. She hugged him warmly and I could see the delight in her eyes as she brushed the hair out of Ivan's eyes to see his handsome face. Ivan was one of the family and He'd come home.

“You could use some fattening up,” Mama said. “And a haircut.”

“He eating OK?” Mama asked, watching me watch Dylan.

“Yes, ma'am, it's all it took. He's happy as a lamb.” I said. “Aren't you, Dylan?”

It's the first time I got a good look at Ivan. I was sure he'd lost ten pounds or more. I could see his ribs.

When he came home to stay, Mama would fatten him up.

*****

Lucy was in the habit of checking on me early each morning. If I was sleeping after a rough night, she took Dylan downstairs first thing in order for Twila to feed him in the kitchen and I didn't need to get up for a couple of hours.

My sister became good with Dylan the more experience she got and Dylan bonded well with her. She'd take him when she got the chance. Mama usually took Lucy to school while Twila was nursing Dylan.

I'd take Dylan until he fell asleep, which didn't take long after he ate. When Mama came in on the days she took Lucy to school, I took Twila to Harry's after Mama was back. The schedule varied according to the day.

On Ivan's first morning home, Pop was the only one who left the house. Lucy talked Mama into letting her stay home to take care of Dylan for me.

*****

The week after Ivan came home my college classes began. The first month we'd cover the material I studied in the spring before I left school. If I intended to secure the credits I needed, I had to sit through the same material again.

On the first day of school Ivan insisted on driving me to school in Teddy's car. He sat in my classes with me, carried my books, and stayed close. My schedule was three academic courses in Fort Myers on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The rest of my credits came from Bill Payne's instruction. I spent more time in my lab and in the Gulf of Mexico than I did in formal classroom settings, which suited me fine.

Bill was training the same three students along with me this semester. He conducted a variety of laboratory experiments and we had increasing amounts of dive time to teach us about the under water world we would inherit.

We were to be a new breed of marine biologist, spending as much time under water as on land looking into the Gulf. SCUBA gear created a type of marine biology that was as much marine as biology.

Florida was surrounded by water and depended on tourist dollars to keep the economy productive. We would attempt to hold back man's destructive influences by warning of the dangers of pollution. With that in mind we learned about the many species if sea creatures harmed by pollution.

Ivan was pleased that I was picking up the pieces of my life. He especially was interested in what I was studying. I had the impression it's what Ivan would be doing if he wasn't looking for Boris.

Since Bill had Harry stock the lab with state of the art equipment, he felt comfortable in the conservancy lab. Few labs in Florida were better equipped, which made his work enjoyable. Bill was right at home conducting classes there and I was close to home and my son if Mama got in over her head.

Harry wanted the Sanibel Island Conservancy to be known for its cutting edge biology laboratory. This meant I was learning on the equipment I'd be using while doing my job. My future was now, and I was even more comfortable there than Bill.

Ivan sat in on classes at the lab too and he took dives with us. It was like we were back together again, almost.

We used the Marina at the Cove for dives. Bill kept his boat there to take us diving. This meant I was close to home and easy to reach when I wasn't under water, but Bill's boat had a radio just in case.

This made it easier for me to leave Dylan. I still got up at night to make sure my son was breathing. I didn't know where the fear came from, but it kept me alert to my son no matter where I went.

Considering how long my days were, except on Tuesday and Thursday, I was conveniently located and close to home.

I was at work when I was in Bill's classes. My notes and specimens were at the center of many lessons, which was Harry's plan. As far as Harry was concerned, Bill and the conservancy laboratory figured into his plans for the preservation of the Gulf of Mexico. I was Bill's protege. The laboratory was home base.

At different parts of the year Bill was away from the lab and the Gulf. He did dives all over the world. He studied with marine biologists everywhere.

I was rarely far from my lab or the Gulf.

In 1969 it was difficult to see myself as a marine biologist and the main man involved with preserving the Gulf of Mexico, but that was Harry's plan. one day, when Bill Payne was off on his trips, I'd be the man who spoke on behalf of the Gulf. As far away as that seemed like it was, it was Harry's plan.

The Sanibel Island Conservancy's Biological Laboratory was to become a respected voice concerning the Gulf. A place where like minded people could come to read and study the information we gathered in my years there.

The future was at hand and Ivan was impressed by how comprehensive my education looked from his perspective.

“You'll make a good marine biologist, Clay,” Ivan said.

“Thank you, Ivan. I enjoy it. I want to be good at it.”

*****

Having Ivan's respect was essential for me to be a success in life. Being in his arms every day that fall was essential to my healing.

At school, while changing classes, we'd pass an alcove or empty hall, and Ivan would pull me to him, hugging me close.

He'd whisper the words I loved to hear.

“Have I ever told you I love you?”

Driving in Teddy's car he might pull to the side of the road to hug me close for a few minutes.

On dives, when we were off by ourselves, he'd take my hand.

At night I fell asleep and I woke up in Ivan's arms.

It was almost like heaven.

I never wanted it to end, but as I grew stronger, I knew it would end soon. My life was back on track thanks to the man I loved.

Ivan had a mission. He'd interrupted it to comfort me. I needed him and he came home, but the time for him to resume his search was closing in on us.

Chapter 13

In the Wind

I came in one afternoon, after Ivan and I had come back from a dive. He headed upstairs for a shower to wash the salt off his body. I headed to the kitchen for sodas.

When I got to the kitchen, Mama was seated at the table, papers strewn out in front of her. She was shaking her head with a worried look on her face.

There was no doubt these papers had something to do with me. At a time when Mama was usually busy at the stove, here she was gazing at piles of paper. I knew a setup when I saw one.

“What's that?” I asked, doing my part as a dutiful son.

“Bills,” she said, worry in her voice. “I don't know where the money will come from, Clayton. We owe a lot of money.”

She just drew me in with one careful sentence.

“What bills?” I asked, having enough experience with bait to know when it was set out for me.

“The bills from Sunshine. Things Harry didn't pay concerning the funeral. Her hospital and doctor visits. Dylan's doctor's bills,” she said.

In other words my bills.

“How much, Mama?” I asked, knowing she knew to the penny.

“Over $1600. It's a lot of money, Clayton. Where do you suppose we'll get it?”

I was sitting across from her now. I had no sodas. That was when I remembered the envelope Popov gave me at the funeral. He indicated it would help.

I needed help. I could use rescuing. Of course I knew this wasn't about those bills. Mama and Pop wouldn't think twice before paying such bills, because I couldn't, but maybe I could this time.

Mama was careful not to mention Ivan. She didn't mention the money I took out of the jar on the fridge to give to Ivan before he left. That's what this was really about. If I hadn't given Ivan the money I'd made from working with his father, there would have been no mention of bills. I was almost certain I could put my hands on a nice chunk of change and solve this dilemma.

Mama said, 'You'll regret giving your money away one day,' after finding the jar on the fridge, with my fisherman's pay, empty.

This was the day.

“Wait a minute, Mama. Popov gave me an envelope the day we.... It's upstairs in my suit coat. I'm sure it's money.”

Mama looked surprised as I jumped up and left. It didn't go the way she planned. I hoped the envelope wasn't full of invitations to the annual fishing tournament. That would be no help at all.

I came back with the envelope. It was stuffed with twenty dollar bills. Three crisp new hundreds were in the back of the envelope. The hundreds were from Captain Popov, Captain Tito, and the third would be the one Mr. Aleksa told Popov to add to the envelope.

Seeing all that money made my heart flutter with gratitude. It wasn't simply being rescue from Mama, it meant a lot to know they cared. I hadn't seen much of the fisherman I once worked with but I was going to correct that. My life wasn't so busy I couldn't say thank you.

“Eleven hundred and twenty dollars,” Mama said, after counting it out. “That's almost twenty dollars a man.”

I got the jar off the fridge where I'd been stuffing my checks inside as they came. I'd forgotten to cash them. It had to be well over three hundred dollars. Harry kept paying me even when I hadn't been at work.

“You want it all to go toward the bills?” Mama asked, as if there may be some other point to this meeting.

“Yes,” I said.

Mama was more than a little surprised at how much money I could get my hands on in a pinch. I was surprised.

An object lesson was thwarted.

I wasn't going to let Mama make me feel bad about doing all I could for Ivan. She'd never understand why I did what I did.

Mama never got to say, 'I told you so.'

“We're a little over two hundred dollars short,” Mama said softly, trying to salvage something. “I'll make up the difference from my household account.”

“No, Mama. Sunshine was my wife. Dylan is my son. It's my debt. I'll pay it. I don't want you and Pop doing any more than you already do. You do enough for me. I know it isn't easy having a baby in the house. I appreciate all the help you give me. I get paid and I'll pay this off by the first of the year.”

*****

I didn't sleep the night before Ivan left. We'd had Wednesday mostly to ourselves. No one at the conservancy house questioned my plans. After breakfast we drove to the farthest point on the island. There was a storm at sea and the waves ran high, the brisk wind blew from the northwest. The sky was a brilliant blue. The clouds were white and billowy.

We kissed and held each other while we watched the natural forces in action.

We cried. We were about to lose the comfort of each other's arms. I didn't want to let go.

We walked hand in hand past an older couple strolling in the opposite direction. They paid no attention to our hands. We paid no attention to their hands.

We had lunch at the Pizza Palace and went to the marina to make one last dive together. Heading southwest, after leaving the cove, I anchored thirty miles south. It was a popular dive sight where a ship went down in a storm twenty years before.

With improving weather the wind was no longer a factor on the water and never under it. We were the only ones there on a cool Wednesday afternoon. Being weightless in underwater usually exhilarated me, but not with the weight I carried that day.

We took time to go through the biggest piece of wreckage where the reef was in charge. The ship's superstructure had been obscured by time.

Here, the reef furnished unique brightly colored sea creatures. I saw two different species of fish I'd never seen in the wild before that day, which did thrill me. It was another aspect of diving I liked. You never knew what you might see when you got into your gear.

I regretted not bringing my Nikon to document my find.

We'd filled the conservancy boat with fuel before leaving the marina. After using the air in our tanks, we headed slowly south with the sun high overhead and the coastline on our left.

I wished we could sail off into the sunset together.

As much a part of our lives as the Gulf was, no joy came from being on it that As we turned about to head home, I watched Ivan's thick brown mane blowing furiously in the wind.

There was nothing left to say. This was part of goodbye.

*****

Mama had ham, biscuits, red eye gravy, green beans, sliced tomatoes, and potatoes with garlic cloves. She roasted the mixture to get a tasty outcome.

This was Ivan's favorite meal. It's how Mama said goodbye to a boy who was like one of her sons.

The dinner table was quiet.

Dylan started out with a piece of biscuit slathered in butter and he ended up asleep in my lap, unaware the table would be one person short tomorrow.

I'd cried a million tears that fall and I maintained an even keel, worrying about my son. My life and loves had caused my family a lot of pain. Ivan's departure was the latest disruption in what had been a very long year.

I'd cry in private now. Only Lucy truly knew how much Ivan's arrival meant to me and how much his departure hurt. She kept it between us and her presence was a great comfort to me.

I didn't try to sleep that night. We held each other and when he spoke I responded and the same was true of him. It was a posture I'd grown accustomed to again and would soon lose. I didn't want to miss a single second.

Before we went down to breakfast, we stood on the porch outside my bedroom and held each other. I cried. I'm sure Ivan cried too. We hated being separated again. Ivan had something to do. That's all there was to it. I'm sure we weren't the only lovers who were separated from time to time.

Pop said his goodbye's the night before, taking Ivan into the den for a glass of brandy. If Sunshine was like Pop's daughter, Ivan was like his son. There was a big difference. Ivan would be back.

Mama fixed more food than we generally ate at breakfast. She stood by the stove watching us pick at our food, keeping our coffee cups full. Lucy didn't appear. She tended to Dylan while crying over Ivan's departure. Pop left for work before we came downstairs.

On my way to school, I'd leave Ivan off on the side of the road where I turned toward Fort Myers.

We rode in silence. Ivan rested his head on my shoulder as I drove. He didn't want to leave me, but he couldn't stay.

“You don't know how much I hate leaving you,” he said, leaning on the car door on the passenger side of Teddy's Chevy, once he got out.

“Me too,” I said.

“You know I've got to find him?”

“I know. You find him and come home, you hear?”

“I will,” he said.

He jogged across the road I'd turn down to get to campus. He turned, putting out his thumb, walking backwards on the shoulder of the highway.

I watched my lover leave my life again. My heart was so heavy I thought it could end up in my churning stomach. I couldn't drive away with my eyes clouded with tears. I couldn't drive away as long as I could still see Ivan.

Luckily a truck with a huge tractor on a flatbed trailer behind it stopped for him. Ivan climbed inside.

I hoped his luck held.

I wiped my eyes and went to school.

*****

It took me until the following Monday to regain my equilibrium.

I didn't forget the day Mama gave me a good look at what I owed doctors and hospitals. I didn't forget the envelope in my jacket pocket Popov gave me either.

I owed more than a thank you to the fishing fleet in the cove.

I took Dylan down to the marina to meet the fishing fleet the next time the boats returned to the cove.

I shook every hand, meeting the men I once fished with on the dock before they went home. I thanked Popov and Tito for their kindness, asking Popov to thank Mr. Aleksa and tell him I missed fishing with him.

Dylan was surprisingly happy over being at the Marina at the Cove. He giggled and smiled for the fishermen. Each had his own family and it was good to see my son interacting well with strangers.

They called me by name, ruffled my hair, and asked me to go fishing with them again. It was all quite rewarding. I was reluctant to come to meet the fleet, not knowing where I stood with the fishermen after this long. The visit went well and Dylan was a star.

My next trip was to J.K.'s Kitchen. I wanted to have a luncheon for the fishermen when the fleet was in next time. The owner gave me a price of $3.25 per head for a top notch meal.

Along with Mama, Pop, Lucy, and me, we were talking a month's pay. I didn't think they'd charge Dylan.

Popov that called me the next afternoon.

“Clayton, you are good boy. I'm talking to J.K. and he's telling me you plan to feed poor fishermen. I'm telling J.K, this is fine, but we'll furnish fish, crabs, and scallops. You student and Popov get fish plenty cheap. Allow me this and we do lunch next week.”

“Popov, you're too kind to me. It's a fine arrangement. I'll talk to J.K. and see which days you're in the cove next week,” I said, knowing better than to argue.

“Is Done,” Popov said laughing.

Harry came home the night before the luncheon. Naturally he couldn't resist a chance to meet with so many constituents that were usually out of reach all at one time.

Next year was an election year and Harry insisted on kicking in half the cost as payment to me for getting the cove's fishermen all in one place at the same time.

I couldn't tell Harry no either.

*****

A good time was had by all, especially Dylan.

I renewed friendships and we did a lot of catching up.

We took over the restaurant at lunchtime and it stretched into the evening before the kitchen started to empty out.

J. K.'s biggest customers were fishermen, so having a celebration for them was right up his alley. The fishermen were right at home.

The men from the fishing fleet brought the entertainment, singing, dancing, and playing instruments to add to the flavor of the sea. The celebration was a success.

I think Harry shook every hand.

*****

I'd been a boy fisherman. It was one of the best times of my life. So much had happened since I left Mr. Aleksa's boat, I didn't think about the fishing fleet or my place in it much.

I wasn't about to allow that to happen again. We worked on the same Gulf every day and our livelihood depended on the sea. I wanted to keep this connection so I could make sure there would always be fish to sustain my friends.

The amount of feeling I still had for men I'd hardly seen in years surprised me. Popov had asked me to go out with him on his boat several times since I fished with Mr. Aleksa, but there wasn't the time.

Now I couldn't go out as long as Dylan required so much care. Popov understood. We'd leave it for a time when my life wasn't so full of responsibility.

I wanted to go out to maintain a relationship with the fishermen. I began to see it as part of my continuing education and part of my job. I did miss the excitement of being in the fishing fleet.

*****

When I first came to Florida, I remembered sitting on the beach and imagining my place in the Gulf. It was pure excitement even before I set foot on the sea.

I was Captain Kidd, Lord Nelson, and John Paul Jones all rolled into one amazing little boy. The sea was never easy or boring but it called to me from the first time I saw it.

My future was going to be on the sea.

*****

It was true that one day I'd be able to name my price and travel around the world, following in Bill Payne's footsteps. That wasn't why Harry sent me to school. It wasn't why I became a marine biologist. My job was to protect the Gulf of Mexico and the creatures in it. I couldn't do it by traveling around the world.

I could do it on behalf of the Sanibel Island Conservancy and Congressman Harry McCallister, who would become a senator. That meant Harry could name his price too, but that wasn't how you got the people's business done. Money wouldn't save the Gulf.

*****

As November was passing, I was deep in my studies and the business of furnishing the conservancy laboratory with the most up-to-date information I could find. There wasn't much free time in my schedule. This gave time an incredible knack for passing me by.

If I should appear to be daydreaming, or malingering while at work, I'd find myself emptying trash cans out at the end of the island. It was surprisingly crowded that time of year.

*****

There were two forces that anchored me to the here and now, Dylan and Mama. When I became sure I was no longer connected to anything in particular, one of the two would yank me back to reality.

Then there were the times they both yanked.

*****

Congressman Harry McCallister would become instrumental in guiding the newly created Environmental Protection Agency from the halls of congress during the rest of the Richard Nixon administration.

We were positioned to do what he said we were going to do when I first met Harry. Clean water made for strange bedfellows. Having the ear of the president meant getting things done. Harry intended to keep the water clean. When Harry was home, it excited me to hear him talk about our plans.

It was a challenge if you wanted to stay ahead of the polluters. As I began my education, powerful forces worked to stop laws forcing them to be responsible for mess they made from being passed.

Harry said passing such laws was hard. Politicians were friends with people who owned businesses that made a lot more money when they didn't need to clean up after themselves.

It wasn't even a close call for me. If I made a mess, I better clean up after myself, but Harry said corporations weren't held to the same standards people were held to.

Why not? Didn't people run corporations?

I didn't understand but I'd learn pretty fast. If we wanted clean water we'd need to fight for it. We were opposed by people who were getting rich by leaving a mess for the rest of us to clean up.

Getting excited by the idea of preserving the beauty of a place I loved was easy. I enjoyed learning all there was to know about my environment.

I would sound alarms and seek solutions. I'd do my best to be a voice of reason. Under the circumstances, it wasn't easy, because I would deal with so many fools who weren't able to draw a straight line from the health of the environment to their own health.

*****

On the longest day of my life, I picked Twila up before dawn. She nursed Dylan and I took her to Harry's before going to school.

I didn't mind driving to Fort Myers. It relaxed me and made me forget how little sleep I got. Tuesday and Thursdays were my longest days because of school.

After finishing my three classes, I was wide awake. History and English each gave me something I enjoyed, not to mention the credits that got me closer to graduation. We were studying new material, finally finishing what I studied before leaving school in the spring.

At one o'clock I grabbed a burger, drove to Madison High, picked up Lucy, taking her to work with me. We'd be there until six if I wasn't able to slip away earlier. It took that long for Lucy to clean up the mess I'd made since her last visit to the conservancy lab.

Lucy labeled specimens legibly, translated my notes into English, and did my filing, while Bill Payne was conducted a class in my lab. He came most Tuesdays and Thursdays to conduct his class for four.

Bill gave us a detailed description of an aspect in a marine biologist's life. He gave us great detail. Finishing about five, he told us what we'd be doing in the weeks ahead and why.

I admit in the last half hour of class, I began struggling to stay awake. The thought that went through my mind at that instant, 'Great, maybe I can get home in time for a catnap and a shower before dinner. Of course this defied logic. I couldn't remember a Tuesday or a Thursday when I had time for a nap or a shower.

Bill gave no thought at all to my need to nap. After class he wanted to see my latest notes and any new specimens I might have collected on the dives I did without him.

Did I mention what a big help Lucy was? Not only did she straighten out everything that people would ask to see, but she listened to our classes and she retained much of it. She heard Bill's request and began pulling out the just filed notes.

She put them on the desk as Bill entered.

“Hi, Lucy. Learn anything from our talk?”

“I did,” Lucy said. “I enjoy your lecture style. My teachers are a little dull. I like your passion, Dr. Payne.”

“Thank you, Lucy. I'm just Bill.”

Luckily he took interest in a new specimen I'd collected.

“Are you certain of your identification on this, Clay?”

“Yes. I used the conservancy books to identify it.”

“It's not native to these waters. People buy a species not native to these waters and when it's not what they expected, they dump it in the Gulf. It's a fresh water fish from northwestern Asia. You saw more of these?”

“I did.”

“Be careful when you dive alone?. It's not a good practice.”

I knew that but the freedom of being alone and going where men rarely went was why I loved being under water. I didn't want company. Not the company of most people anyway.

“Well, I'm running late. Keep up the good work. Wednesday next week you can show me where you found that specimen,” he said.

“You're on,” I said.

“You ready, Luce? I'm beat,” I said, putting my head on my desk.

“Let me file thee things and we can go,” she said.

It wasn't even six. A little nap was looking good.

“Clay!” Harry said. “I've been trying to get over here all day. I want to see your latest notes. We haven't talked since the luncheon.”

“No, we haven't,” I said, jerking myself to attention for my boss.

“I think this is what you want,” Lucy said, having the notes in her hand when Harry appeared.

“Hi, Lucy. Helping your brother out in his lab?” Harry asked.

“Yes, sir. I like filing and looking at his notes. I get to hear Dr. Payne on most Tuesdays and Thursdays. I look forward to that.”

“Oh, yes, this is Bill's day. I hope I'm not keeping you from homework.” Harry said. “I don't have long.”

“No, I'll do homework this weekend,” I said, not remembering what the homework was.

“Let me go get a cup of your father's coffee. I've been going since eight this morning and I need something to perk me up.”

“Me too,” I said, as Harry went out.

I put my head down again.

“There goes the shower,” Lucy said.

“Don't remind me,” I said. “This day will end soon, won't it?”

I heard Harry come back in the lab with his coffee and I sat up as straight as I could manage.

Harry gulped coffee and slid the notes around on my desk.

“I'm sorry, Clay. I forgot I've got to meet a donor for cocktails at seven. It's already after six and I've got to freshen up before going to the Gulf Club. I leave in the morning. This will need to wait until my next trip home. I'll come in for Thanksgiving, but only for the family get together. It may be Christmas before we can meet again.”

“OK, Harry,” I said, watching him leave.

I sat down and my head made a noise when it collided with my desk.

“Just leave me here, Luce. I'm too tired to move.”

“No way, Jose'. Your son is waiting for you. Let's go. I can file these in two minutes. We'll be home in time for you to get a nap before dinner's on the table. I'll entertain Dylan if he allows it.”

“You're better with him than I am, Lucy. He always likes being with you.”

“Nice try, Clayton. You know once he sees you, he won't always settle for second best. He knows who you are.”

“Who thought up kids anyway?” I asked. “Why couldn't they be born at nine or ten? Eat solid food and no longer poop their pants.”

“You realize how hard that would be on mothers?”

“You have a point. Ready to go?” I asked, standing up.

*****

On the way home I couldn't make up my mind whether to lie down for ten minutes or take a shower before dinner, which was closing in on us. It was a lot closer to dinner time than before Harry showed up.

My longest day ever turned out to be the day Dylan picked to be a perfect butt-head. I was sure I heard him crying as I headed for the stairs and the shower. Mama was in the midst of fixing dinner. I'd jump in and out of the shower and then take Dylan.

The way I figured, if everything went right, Dylan might lie down with me and be content with that. He was getting better and not fussing as much.

I took the steps two at a time and as I hit the landing on the second floor, Mama hit the foyer. She had a familiar bundle attached to her hip and a spatula in her hand. She aimed it at me but she didn't shoot.

“You come back here, young man. Take your child,” Mama ordered in no uncertain terms. “I've had all the screaming I plan to take for one day. It's your turn, Buster Brown.”

I mistakenly thought I'd explain my plan to Mama.

“But Mama,” is as far as I got with explaining my plan.

It was my second mistake. I was about to hear about the first one. Mama picked this day to unload on me. She was loaded for bear and I was about to get both barrels.

“Don't you but Mama me, Marvin Clayton Olson.”

She knew I hated that name.

“You made your bed. Now you get to lie in it.”

Maybe it wasn't so bad. She was talking my language.

“Come down those stairs and take your son. I've had enough for one day. Your son hasn't stopped screaming since Twila left. I've got dinner to finish.”

I sheepishly returned to the bottom of the stairs. Dylan wailed when he saw me and reached his arms out for me.

Mama was right. He was my baby and my responsibility. I needed to stop depending on others so much.

“It's OK. Daddy's home. I won't leave you,” I assured him as I took him off Mama's hip.

The room went suddenly silent. Oh, sweet silence.

Dylan looked up out of big watery brown eyes, gave me a tiny smile, stopping in mid-wail. He grabbed two handfuls of my shirt, turned toward my chest, and he fell asleep.

Crying sure wears a guy out.

“I don't believe it. That child hasn't shut up since Twila left.”

“It's my smell,” I explained, remembering what Twila told me.

“Your smell?” Mama said as if she thought I might be daft.

“It's a long story, Mama. I've got him now. I'm sorry he was such a handful. I know it's hard on you. Thank you, Mama. You're a big help.”

A lot of grandmothers weren't so eager to give up so much time to their children's children. Mama was a trooper and she rarely complained, when it came to Dylan anyway.

We hadn't reached the true cause of Mama's outburst yet. I should have known it wasn't as simply as Dylan acting up or Mama having a bad day. I must admit I was shocked when she told me what we were really talking about.

“Hard on me? It was hard on Sunshine. You don't know how hard. You don't know how easy you have it, young man,” Mama objected.

I felt objected to.

“I'll put a bottle on and have Lucy bring it up to you. I've got dinner to finish, but don't you think this means I'm finished with you.”

Mama's God had to have a hand in this for her to be so wound up. He was always putting ideas in her head. Didn't he have someone else he could bother?

Lucy stood silent, letting Mama get her anger out of her system. She knew the program as well as I did and as far back as I could remember, when I was in over my head, Lucy came riding to the rescue.

Mama didn't move. She stood with a foot in the foyer and a foot in the dining room, looking back, not sure she was done with me.

It was Lucy's turn to speak.

Life in the Olson house would never be the same.

“Mama, it's not Clay's fault Sunshine died,” My sister began. “She knew the risk and she decided to have Dylan. Clay didn't know about the treatments. I told him after Sunshine died.

“Mama, you need to respect Sunshine's decision and stop blaming Clay for something he had nothing to do with. He's doing the best he can.”

Lucy's tone softened in the middle of her speech. She wasn't done yet, and I didn't realized Mama blamed me for Sunshine's death.

“We need to help Clay. We need to help each other, Mama. It's what a family does. We all miss Sunshine and we owe it to her to do our best for Dylan. Clay works hard. He doesn't need criticism. He needs our help. Leave him be now. Let it go. Being angry with each other won't bring Sunshine back.”

I watched Mama's mouth slowly open. The hand without the spatula covered the hole. She was done now.

Lucy knew the truth about Sunshine and me. She didn't understand my reluctance to set Mama straight about my life. As much as Lucy knew, I knew more, and there were things it was best Mama didn't know. Her God was always lurking and I wasn't sure if it came down to a choice between me and him that she'd pick me.

Lucy hugged Mama and said, “I think dinner's burning.”

Mama yelped and disappeared into the dining room.

*****

Lucy was growing into a young woman and she'd only just begun speaking her mind. In May of the coming year, Lucy stepped up in a way I never did. I didn't have a grasp on my place in the world that my sister did. She saw things in a larger context than I could and she refused to remain silent about the bad things she saw.

In a million years I wouldn't know how to handle Mama. With one reasonable speech Lucy disarmed her.

My mother unloaded her spatula and it was the last time she gave me a piece of her mind.

In time Mama went back to being proud of her youngest son, but not in time for me to get a shower that day.

Chapter 14

A Year Older

By the time the holidays rolled around the people in the conservancy house were braced for another year. The previous two years were nothing to write home about. I had great hope as the unknowns of 1970 approached.

There was the fear I'd never see Ivan again. I worried Ivan would die alone without me knowing where he was. I worried I'd die and he'd come home and find my room empty.

I worried I couldn't cut it as a marine biologist and Harry would give me the boot. I worried about Dylan and how I'd help him to grow up smart and strong. I feared I wasn't capable of raising my son to be a free spirit who thinks for himself and never follows others or believes what he's told.

There was plenty to keep my mind off my fears as the holidays closed in on us. Early in December Pop bagged the biggest Christmas tree the foyer had seen since the Olson family came to live in the conservancy house.

It was a Christmas to remember after a year we'd rather forget.

It was Dylan's first Christmas. We got in the Christmas spirit for him. He might not remember it but each year we'd put on a celebration he couldn't ignore. Being the one bright spot in an otherwise bleak year, we owed him that.

The lights and colorful decorations made Dylan giggle. The magnificent tree made him attempt to eat both of his fists at the same time.

It was obvious Dylan was immediately working on the physics of the situation. 'How'd that tree grow in the foyer during my naps?'

I explained Santa and the concept of magical thinking to him. He didn't seem to be buying it. He played along for our sake. Each new decoration got a giggle out of him.

Lucy found a set of twinkling red lights and installed them on the ceiling of Dylan's room. The stimulation had him looking on in wide eyed wonder. Christmas music drifting through the house filled Dylan's world with additional stimulation.

The weather sucked in December. I moved the rocking chairs from the porch onto the landing overlooking the Christmas tree outside my bedroom on the third floor. When Dylan woke in the middle of the night, I got his bottle, turned on the Christmas tree lights, rocking as he drank his milk and gazed at the bonanza of glitter below.

It was a charming time and he didn't know about his gifts yet.

*****

I didn't let Ivan's absence annoy me at Christmas. He came home when I needed him and that's what was important that year. Since leaving after his long visit, he'd called every Sunday. I felt more secure in our relationship. Hearing his voice each week helped.

I believed Ivan would come home to stay by the end of 1970.

No matter what he learned from Boris' comrades, his brother was ten thousand miles away and lost in a war zone Ivan couldn't enter without a U.S. military uniform. I didn't think Ivan would join the military even to get to where Boris was lost.

There was something else I noticed when Ivan was leaving me again after staying so long. A physical pain accompanied Ivan's departure. It hurt in the middle of my chest.

I could have let it disable me, except for Dylan. No matter how seriously I hurt, I had to be there for my son.

*****

Dylan made the Christmas of 1969 extraordinary. It wasn't just the Olsons either. People who never came to the conservancy house before came to celebrate.

New people came to see the tree and the baby. They brought gifts for the baby and placed them under the magnificent tree. Captains Popov and Tito both came to sip and sample Mama's Christmas treats.

Both of the seamen bounced Dylan on their substantial knees and both talked baby talk like pros. As with most things to do with Christmas, it made Dylan giggle and chew on one or both of his fists.

Captain Popov said I should come fishing with him at the earliest possible opportunity. I told him that I missed fishing but days off were at a premium, since I'd taken so much time off from work that year.

“Nicky sends greetings from Chile. He says, 'Tell Clay the fishing is good and the waters peaceful.”

“Is he coming home soon?” I asked, and Popov shrugged. “Who knows what Nicky will do. He's happy where he is.”

Mr. Aleksa sailed out of the cove shortly after the news about Boris came to the house next to the river. Hearing he was OK was OK. I was sure Ivan communicated with his father about his search. I didn't seek to get into the middle of a situation I didn't understand.

As fragmented as the Aleksa family was, the father and sons shared a love I wasn't capable of comprehending. The first time I met Boris the brothers Aleksa went to war with one another. It seemed like such a long time ago.

I'd seen Ivan lose control of himself twice in the six years I'd known him. Both times it was over Boris. I didn't understand their bond, but I knew it was real.

The employees and some of the board at the conservancy came to see the tree. They compared it to trees in the foyer at the turn of the century. The pictures of some of those trees hung on the walls at the conservancy. They were in black and white.

Our tree was in living color. They drank egg nog and ate treats.

Pop made a point of inviting men like Popov and Tito into his private space that was once a library. I'm sure the brandy came out and the egg nog got a kick. Pop rarely drank outside of the holidays. He knew how Mama felt about it and it wasn't something he needed.

I made a great effort not to picture Mr. Broadmore's feet tangling with the upper limbs of that great tree as he swung gracefully from the chandelier, where he'd hanged himself over a half century before.

I was grateful none of the visitors pointed out the spot to us. My imagination spent too much time picturing him hanging around.

*****

I was hoping for a better year in 1970, but early on I created a problem for Harry's reelection plans. As usual, I went off half cocked. The world didn't work according to Clayton Olson's wishes. Once I shot my mouth off and got Harry involved, it was wait and see to see if I might get fired this time.

Twila was still nursing Dylan well into 1970. Pop or I would pick her up and then deliver her to Harry's on our way to work. I had to use Pop's truck because of the mud at Twila's. It was as wet and blustery that winter as I'd seen since coming to the beach.

I must have awakened from the trance I'd been in. That's when I became curious about where Twila asked to be let out. One day in February, after the rains subsided, I dropped Twila off at the usual spot. I decided today was the day I went to see where Twila went.

I started to leave like I was leaving, taking my time, I waited for Twila to go out of sight. I backed up and got out of the truck. I wanted to get a look at what was on the other side of the hill.

I was nineteen. Leaving well enough alone wasn't what I did, even when every particle in my body said I was heading for trouble.

Once I walked up the hill and saw what was on the other side, things were set into motion that I lacked the ability to stop. What I saw I couldn't keep to myself. I couldn't unsee it. I had to say something to someone I trusted.

There was no thought given to whose feathers I might ruffle.

One morning I asked Pop to take a ride with me. It took me nearly a week to get up the courage to drag Pop into my discovery. He was the wisest man I knew. I trusted him to set me straight and somehow help me to make sense of what I'd seen.

“I need to show you something,” I said, and he knew there was a powerful weight to whatever it was.

If I was over reacting, I knew Pop would tell me. If there was a reason for what I'd seen, he'd tell me that.

When I walked up the hill beside my father, I watched to see his reaction. I'd know just how far off base I was by how he reacted.

Pop stopped short as quick as the village below came into view. I wasn't sure what he was thinking. His hands went to his hips as his eyes swept from one side of the community to the other. There may have been 100 of the rundown shacks below us. It was an eyesore.

After less than a minute, Pop said, “Let's go.”

“Do you think Harry knows where Twila lives?” I asked, fearing he did and he accepted how one of his employees was living.

“Reginald would drive Twila. Reginald knows. I doubt Harry has been back here. He'd have no need to ride back here.”

“There's no electricity, Pop. No phones. What if there was a fire? What if Twila or one of her kids got sick.”

I was explaining the obvious to my father. He's seen what I saw and he didn't need me to describe the situation to him.

Pop was disturbed by what he'd seen and on our way back he told me a history he knew first hand. I'd heard the story before, but not from my father. Not from someone who lived through it.

“When I was young, way younger than you are now, there was trouble in Tulsa. The coloreds came into white Tulsa to get one of their citizens out of jail. He was a young man who was accused of... touching a white woman in an elevator.

“This is a great fear white men have about the Negro. The big black buck touching one of their women. The idea of it makes some white men crazy. It just makes others mean. I'm saying this so you'll know how what happened happened, Clay. It's not an excuse. There is no excuse for it. It's the way it was then.”

I listened, sensing I knew the story he was about to tell me.

“I lived there and I saw the results of what happened and I'm ashamed to tell you about it. The coloreds were certain of the man's innocence. He was a hard working young man who never caused trouble and they asked he be released from jail until the situation could be resolved,” Pop said. “Strange things often happen to colored men when they're in the custody of whites. They assured the sheriff he'd be available for whatever action was taken.”

I knew that was true from stories I'd heard in Florida.

“By the time the smoke cleared, literally, the colored section of Tulsa was burned to the ground. As I recall, over thirty died in the riot. The moral of the story, so it seemed to me at the time, coloreds don't come asking white folks for anything if they know what's good for them. Civil leaders came with hat in hand asking for fairness. What they got was a riot that burned them out.”

“Why is it like that, Pop?”

“I've never known any black people. Twila is the first black person who has been inside my home. I'm not prejudiced, Clay. It's the way it is because of men like those in Tulsa. They burned out the coloreds at the drop of a hat. They'd do the same to any white man who sided with the Negro. It's a powerful hatred that makes men that way and a powerful fear that keeps it from changing.”

“It makes no sense,” I said. “They're just people like us. We don't own that house. It's where we live because we work for the conservancy and take care of that house so it doesn't fall down.”

“The blacks in Tulsa were prosperous for the most part. The men who came to get the fellow out of jail were respected leaders of their community. I think poor white people were jealous that the blacks lived so well. When they had an excuse, they burned them out. That was pure hatred and it was done in a way that put the whites against the blacks. Anyone who thought they could make it better, got a rude awakening after the Tulsa riot.”

Pop grew silent. He seemed to be thinking over what he told me.

“I found out about it after we moved here,” I said. “Ivan told me what happened in Tulsa back in the 20s. I lived there and I never heard of it. I learned all about Tulsa but not a word on the race riot.”

“It's the way it was, Clay. I didn't question it. We didn't do business with coloreds. I never knew one. We've always been kept separated by the threat of violence. No one knows where the violence will come from, but you don't dare cross the color line if you know what's good for you.”

“Politicians,” I said. “That's who makes things the way they are.”

“Politicians,” Pop agreed. “Men who create trouble for reasons known only to them. It goes back a hundred years. I know you want me to do something, Clay, but I'm in no position to make waves. This is way bigger than your father. You're the next generation. If things change enough it'll be because people like you change them. At my age I can't afford to stand out. We do what we can for Twila. She's like family to us. That's what we are able to do as people.”

“I wanted to know if I was way off base, Pop,” I said. “I knew you'd tell me. I appreciate your being honest.”

Pop was a doer. If there was a problem, he went about solving it. He wanted to do something to help Twila and it was tricky business. If you did something, it could end up making matters worse.

“What you're thinking won't be popular, Clay. They fought the Civil War over this. The war ended. Hostilities never did. It was turned into a class issue.”

I didn't know there were places like where Twila lived. I no longer offered to take Twila to her door. I knew why she got out on the nice side of the hill. I was shamed by what was on the other side.

At this point in my life I felt like walking toward trouble was way easier than walking away from it. I had no appreciation for consequences. I saw need and something had to be done.

For years I wanted to tell Pop that I was like the black people. It had been made clear to me, no matter what, I was despised. The same people who hated black folks for being black hated gay folks for being gay. My sin was being able to love. Were haters capable of love?

I didn't believe the gay experience was equivalent to the black experience, but civil rights belonged to everyone. The key was equality. Who had the right to deny certain groups equal rights?

The biggest difference was gay people could hide being gay. We knew we were hated but they didn't know who we were. A black man was black no matter what. It was easy to see and the only thing the haters saw.

Ivan and I wouldn't be able to live together without being condemned by people who had their civil rights. We weren't free and we had no civil rights; not in a society that loves war and hates love.

When I looked at the world beyond my beach in 1970, it was inhabited by people who hated so much that they'd rather fight than work together to make the world a better place for everyone.

What makes so many people so mean?

When I found out how Twila lived, it brought my attention to her civil rights. I couldn't do anything to change the way things were, but I knew people who could do something. I didn't know what.

Change needed to start somewhere but I didn't know where to start. I knew Pop was thinking about it. It wasn't like Twila was a stranger. She had been in our house every day since shortly after Dylan was born. My son prospered because of Twila's breast milk.

In an election year, Harry wished the buck didn't stop with him but it did. I never claimed to have good judgment but Harry McCallister was the most powerful man I knew.

*****

Harry was in Washington when I discovered where Twila lived. I needed to talk to him about what I'd seen on the other side of the hill. It wasn't a conversation I was looking forward to. I didn't know what Harry knew. It wasn't a conversation we could have on the phone. It could wait until he came home.

*****

Later in February, Harry stood as I entered his office. He met me halfway to the door with a warm hug.

He always acted happy to see me.

We made small talk and it felt awkward. I tried to sound upbeat about school and work, but Harry sensed an undercurrent of uneasiness in my posture. He was sure this wasn't the conversation I came to have.

“Why the long face, Clayton? What do you need from your congressman today?” Harry said, having an astute sense of me.

I still wasn't sure where to start.

“Any major discoveries to share? I'll drop by the lab tomorrow. We'll look at your latest notes since my last visit. You look uncomfortable today. You're making me nervous. My boat didn't sink did it?”

“There is something I don't know how to talk about,” I said, and that was no lie.

Harry was puzzled by my reluctance to say what was on my mind.

“You spit it out, Clay. How long have we known each other? When you have something to say to me, you say it. You know I respect your opinion. What do you need?”

“Twila!” I said, giving him something to go on.

“And how is Twila?”

“Fine,” I said. “Do you know where she lives by any chance?”

“Sure. The colored section a couple of miles out of town.”

“Eight miles,” I said. “Have you ever been there?”

“Clay, my chauffeur takes Twila home. They're his people. Reginald's the man to talk to if you have questions about it. He lived out there until my father hired him as a driver and moved him into the quarters over the garage. He'll know what you want to know.”

“No, Harry, I'm talking to you,” I said, and that startled him.

I hadn't said it as respectfully as I meant to. I needed an answer now.

“Clay, I feel like I'm in front of a subcommittee hearing. Let's get to the point. I have a busy day ahead of me. Donors to see and a speech to give and I only have it half written.”

“I want to show you something. It'll take an hour. When it's convenient. I'm here all day today and in the afternoon tomorrow. It's important.”

“I have a lunch with donors. It's election time. I'll be free for an hour around two, Clayton. Will that do?”

That afternoon I drove Harry to Twila's. I'd telegraphed where we were going, but he didn't object. He didn't like it either, but he would allow me to say my piece.

When I turned off the highway, Harry spoke.

“I knew this is where we were going,” he said.

“I would never be disrespectful to you, Congressman, but there's something I need to know about you if we're going to do the things you told me about. This road is a bit rough but I can't turn back now.”

That was an understatement.

Harry looked to see who he was with. Until now I'd listened and done what he told me. He knew everything about me. It was time I found out about him.

Harry knew he wouldn't like what I had to say but he came with me, which meant a lot. He was giving me all the rope I wanted.

“I've passed here a thousand times. As a kid, I knew where the coloreds lived. The ones I knew were at my house. They came to my world. We give coloreds employment. We leave it at that. They have their ways, we have ours, Clayton. It's always been that way.”

“There's still something I need to know about you, Congressman,” I said. “I don't mind telling you that I'm scared shitless about what I'm going to find out, Harry, but I've got to know.”

Harry was getting uncomfortable. Our relationship had been good. I stuck to the plan. Harry was there when I needed him. Now we'd come to a crossroad and I needed more.

I stopped and cut off the engine and got out, walking up the hill. Harry walked behind me. When I stopped, Harry stopped next to me.

I don't know what he saw. How does a man who has more money than God see a worn out slum? How could I know anything about what he felt. I took him to see what I saw. I took him to see it from my point of view. He couldn't see it the way I saw it.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” he asked, looking at the shacks.

His face showed shock but only for an instant.

“Yes, sir,” I said, feeling uncommonly foolish.

“I see,” he said, saying nothing about what he saw.

Do rich people want to know where poor people live?

With Pop it was all right there. We were the same person. We lived the same lives in the same places. Harry didn't know us any more than we knew him. We came from different worlds. I wasn't smart enough to consider that until we stood on that hill.

We saw the face Harry showed us, nothing more, and he showed me nothing now. He was a United States Congressman. He saw and knew things that would probably make me wet my pants. I was a boy who saw something that disturbed him so much he had to do something. I'd done it and I'd wait to suffer the consequences.

I wasn't sorry I took him to Twila's, but it wasn't a smart move. We drove back to the conservancy. Harry did not speak until I parked the conservancy truck in its parking space.

“What do you want, Clay? I've seen what you wanted me to see. I've got two days, then I'll be in Washington until May, except for a visit or two to meet with donors. What is it you want from me?”

How did I get off the spot I put myself on?

“People shouldn't live like that, Harry. Twila nurses my son. She lives in a dump. She works for you, Harry. She keeps your house clean. You are a United States Congressman. Do something!”

I found myself fighting back tears but we didn't look at each other.

I'd up the ante by raising my voice to my boss. I didn't intend to but emotion being what it is, that's how it came out. I was embarrassed by my outburst. I wasn't in a position to ask Congressman Harry McCallister for anything.

It's the best I could do right then.

“That's it?” he asked without emotion.

“Yes, sir,” I said sadly, unable to look at him.

I felt the cool breeze when he opened the door to get out.

I heard the thin ice cracking under me as he walked away.

*****

I didn't see Harry again while he was home. No order to clean out my desk came. I didn't know what I wanted from Harry. If I hadn't walked up that hill, I'd still be as dumb as ever and not waiting for the hammer to fall.

Life was way easier before I knew how the other half lived.

How could life be so unfair and why couldn't I leave well enough alone? It had been that way forever. What did I expect Harry to do?

*****

That night I gave Dylan a bottle before dinner, hoping he'd sleep until we finished eating. It no longer worked as well as it once did but it was worth a try.

My son was having none of it. He fussed once I put him in his crib and I decided to take him to the table with me. He didn't cry if I held onto him. He didn't like being put down.

I wasn't spending enough time with him and this is how he got the attention he wanted. There was something about seeing the Olsons in one spot that pleased Dylan. We were the people in his universe and he intended to keep an eye on us.

When we weren't within easy reach when he wanted us, he didn't hesitate demonstrating his displeasure in a way that never failed to get our attention. He was learning how to get what he wanted once he began sleeping less during the day.

Half sitting and half leaning against me, he observed the goings on at the table. I fed him a piece of buttered biscuit, heavy on the butter. Giving up the hold on his bottle, he giggled when he tasted the rich creamy substance.

Dylan clapped his hands, sending his bottle rolling onto the floor. He giggled some more, reaching for the rest of my biscuit.

My son was a showboat and everyone laughed.

It was then Pop gave me indigestion.

“I talked to Harry, Clay,” Pop said, reaching for his own biscuit. “About what you showed me.”

“Ouch!” I said. “He'll think we're piling on. I showed him today.”

“He mentioned that. You took him there, Clay?” Pop asked startled. “I don't mind telling you, it's not how I was going to handle it. Harry isn't a man who appreciates having his sensibilities tested.”

“He's a U.S. Congressman. He can do something, Pop. Someone has to do something,” I insisted with no ideas of my own.

“About what?” Mama asked, being in the dark on such things.

“Take it from me, Mama, you don't want to know,” Lucy said.

I told Lucy about it as soon as I came back from seeing Twila's. She was as horrified as I was but she didn't want to see it.

“He going to fire me?” I asked.

“I knew from his reaction that it was a bad time. You might say I tugged the tiger's whiskers and backed off. You put your entire head in the damn tigers mouth, Clay. I admire your courage, but what were you thinking? He's your boss for Christ sake. He's my boss,” Pop said.

“John,” Mama corrected, still in the dark.

“Sorry, Mother. I am not happy with your son. I should have headed this off. When Clay gets his mind made up, he's difficult to stop. It's a work matter. I've been busy and didn't talk to him before he went to Harry with a problem. That's all.”

“He going to fire me?” I asked again.

“He's not happy. I didn't get the impression firing you was on his mind. He was busy with donors and conservancy business. My advice is leave it be, Clay. He's leaving tomorrow. Keep your head down and I think you'll survive. I'm fine. He isn't mad at me. Probably thinks you put me up to it. I didn't argue the point. I need my job.”

I was embarrassed all over again. Pop could read situations a lot better than I could.

What was I thinking?

I had no ability to do anything but run my mouth.

One day I'd be paid for what came out of my mouth. Right now it still got me in trouble.

Chapter 15

Walking on Eggshells

Harry returned to D.C. without a face to face meetings. I was left to stew in my own juices. I'd have to wait to find out what a sudden impulse had me doing.

He didn't stop by the lab to see my notes and talk, as he said he would do. He didn't stop to say goodbye. He always said goodbye.

He wasn't due back until April, but Harry might fly in unexpectedly at any time if something came up he needed to attend to at home. He'd have a lot of time to think about my assault on his sensibilities.

What was I thinking?

I wasn't quite as uneasy about where I stood with Harry. That didn't mean he wouldn't be reconsidering where I fit into the future of the conservancy.

By March I was too busy to worry about the plight of others. Term papers and exams became the order of the day at school, work was predictable. Dylan wasn't.

Ivan continued to call me Sunday before noon. He was hopeful. He was learning more about the men who Boris fought with. He was moving faster now.

He'd been gone a long time. I hoped he'd be home soon.

*****

My relationship with Lucy was far more complex than one might expect. Lucy didn't mind taking a backseat to me. She'd go along with me because I was her big brother. There were times when she refused to yield. She told me her feelings on the matter, which usually made sense. I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it.

My sister continued to help in the lab, organizing notes, keeping things filed, and sitting in on most of Bill Payne's lectures. Lucy didn't dive but she took a great deal of interest in what went on in my lab.

I don't think Lucy was different than most woman. She allowed me to think I was in charge, until there was something she couldn't go along with. If it wasn't in her best interest, she said so and told me why. We always got along and it was the case as 1970 took hold.

In the beginning it was a better year than the last one, but that wasn't much of a reach. Rock & roll took a hit when both the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel announced breakups. If it hadn't been a big buzz at school, I might not have noticed, but it didn't sit well with people who loved the music they made.

Pop music lost headliners in 1970. They retired permanently.

*****

Early in April Harry flew in for meetings with his campaign staff and donors. I'd heard he was flying in Friday night and returning to Washington early Tuesday.

I spent a few hours Saturday morning reading from one of my text books. When something caught my eye, I looked up and found Harry standing in the doorway. I figured it was after nine since Harry didn't land until late Friday evening.

“I've got a few minutes. I thought I'd take a look at the notes I haven't seen in a while, Clay,” he said, sounding like normal. “I don't won't to disturb you if you're busy.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, remembering I said way too much in February.

Standing at the file cabinet, I immediately saw a divider Lucy put in place separating the 1969 files and notes from those I'd made in 1970. It was the holidays the last time Harry had looked at them.

'Thank you, Luce,' I thought, coming up with more than a handful of files and notes that were filed after the first of the year.

I collected January through March and set them on my desk next to the notes I'd made the day before, but Lucy hadn't rewritten them yet. I wouldn't show them to Harry. Three months was a big bite of information. My note taking had become far more comprehensive as I knew more about what I was doing.

My handwriting was improving but not enough for anyone but Lucy and me to read it.

“These are for January, February, and March. That gets us up to this past week, Harry,” I said, trying to sound normal too.

“OK,” he said, slipping his glasses out of his pocket.

“Coffee, Harry?” I asked.

“No, thanks, Clay. I've got a meeting at eleven. It will probably take all afternoon. The fewer pee breaks I need the faster it'll go. You go ahead. Go on with what you're doing while I catch up.”

Harry had January's file open on his desk and he turned the papers as he read what I'd written.

Without saying anything he went to the February folder. It wasn't as thick because several storms limited my dives that month. I checked from time to time, looking over top of my text book when he moved or changed folders. There were no questions.

After forty-five minutes, he neatly arranged the March folder, stacked the three together and put them in the center of my desk. Taking off his glasses, he returned them to his pocket.

“Your note keeping has improved. Tell Lucy she's making it easy to know what I'm looking at. When will she graduate from high school, Clay?”

“1972,” I said.

“I guess she'll want to go to college?” Harry asked.

“Yes, there's no doubt about it. She'll probably run the college before she's done,” I said.

Harry chuckled at the remark.

“Sorry I don't have more time so we can talk. I didn't realize there was so much I'd missed. There has been a lot to do this year, and I've got to get out of here. I'll be home for longer in May. I'll do a fair bit of campaigning in June, so I'll be at the conservancy more often. We'll have plenty of time to talk then. Keep up the good work, Clay.”

“OK, Harry. Good luck with your meeting,” I said.

Harry left and no mention was made of past conversations.

It wasn't the friendliest meeting we ever had but I was still working for the man. I took it as a good sign. He was investing a lot of money in my future.

*****

President John F. Kennedy told us, 'By the end of the decade we shall send a man to the moon and return him safely to the earth.' It was accomplished in 1969. Three definitely was not a charm for moon landings. Apollo 13 became stranded in space and flew on a wing and a prayer. It got the world's attention in April.

Holding our breath, we watched the LEM shelter our astronauts as they circumnavigated the moon, coming back toward the earth. If everything went flawlessly, after two destructive explosions disabled the Apollo 13, it would still be able to bring them back to earth, but there were no guarantees the crew would survive reentry in the damaged space craft.

Oxygen was running dangerously low and they had to depend on the damaged space craft to furnish enough oxygen to keep them alive. No one knew if the capsule could support life long enough to get them back into earth's atmosphere and safely land.

Once again a space mission got the nation's complete attention. This was a matter of life and death for men whose names we all knew. For an agonizingly long time, Apollo 13 lost its ability to communicate while reentering the atmosphere. Long after when communications should have been reestablished, there was nothing but silence. Houston kept calling Apollo 13.

There was no answer.

Static broke into the dead air. More static followed.

Then the lost astronauts were found.

“Houston, this is Apollo 13. Houston, this is Apollo 13.”

The nation could breathe again.

A television I'd never seen before appeared on the table in Pop's shop. Whenever the people at the conservancy had a few minutes, they stood in front of the TV, watching reports on our astronauts.

I found it difficult to take my eyes off the drama while I was at work. The television would be back out in May and once again my eyes would be glued to it.

*****

My relationship with Lucy was one of equals, because Lucy allowed me to feel equal to her by 1970. I say this knowing few people were my sister's equal. She'd always impressed me as being far more intuitive than I was.

While I read comic books and watched Leave It to Beaver, cavorting with my friends back in Tulsa, Lucy read novels. She took botany at summer school for her summer fun, engaging my older brothers in intellectual discussions; not Brian.

Few things stumped Lucy for long. If she crossed paths with something she wasn't sure about, she investigated it.

When Lucy learned that Ivan and I were in love, during a period when we were more passionate than smart a couple of years before, Lucy was initially disappointed. She wasn't disturbed by walking in on us in the middle of a passionate kiss. Seeing us together, she reasoned her plan to marry Ivan might not be possible if her big brother was in love with him.

Her sorrow was short lived. By the next day she decided to marry Boris instead of Ivan. They were a lot a like.

Lucy had hardly reached her teens.

“Love is a good thing, Clay,” she told me one day as we rocked on my porch.

Then she gave me a warning.

“Don't ever stop loving Ivan, Clay. If you do, I'll divorce Boris and marry Ivan.”

At thirteen Lucy had a grasp on her world.

*****

My classes were coming to a close by the first of May in 1970. It would leave me with work, diving, and taking care of Dylan, as major consumers of my time over the summer.

It would be almost like a vacation once I finished final exams and handed in all my papers. I was looking forward to it.

*****

I wasn't paying much attention to Vietnam in April. Nixon had been in office for over a year and the stream of boxes with our boys bodies in them continued to flow home. I didn't need to know more than that. The waste was far too massive for me to ponder or understand.

I was safe and it was selfish, but as I closed in on twenty, death and dying wasn't on my mind. I kept busy and I rationalized it wasn't my concern. I was a kid going to school and that meant I was safe. My plus three hundred draft number made me feel safer.

I thought of Teddy and wondered where he was and how he was doing. He'd disappeared from our lives and started over somewhere new. Canada was popular with draft resisters. It was safe, friendly, and not as far as Europe.

At times I wondered what it would be like to be on the run from a government that wanted you to go to another country and fight the people who lived there. What would be our reaction if the Vietnamese came over here and decided our government wasn't one they liked?

I didn't have a lot of time to let my mind wander, but when it did, it always wandered to Ivan.

He'd been in Seattle and when he left Seattle, he went to San Francisco. He met with a soldier who served with Boris and Ivan got his story. While in Seattle, he met another soldier who came home on emergency leave.

Cousin Carl didn't return to his unit, going underground instead. Ivan, circulating among the anti war protesters, met cousin Carl and they decided Berkely was where it was happening.

Berkeley was at the center of anti war protests. I'd never heard of Berkeley before. We were all about to find out about Berkeley. A lot of things were about to change concerning the Vietnam War, and Berkeley would be at the center of the storm.

Ivan told me he was safe and in a place where he could get information about Boris, the battle where he was wounded, and the men who fought the battle with him. He no longer depended on one man to lead him to the next. Ivan had a list of the men in Boris' company on the day of the battle.

I don't know why that bothered me, but it did. I didn't know how anti war protesters got information like that. I had no idea there were men in the military who were against the war too. They were inside the military and had other means of displaying their anti war credentials.

Ivan had kept in touch with me and at least I knew where he was. He told me what he was doing, but I didn't know if he told me everything. He didn't want me to worry about him, so I suspect anything dangerous he did, he didn't mention to me.

As soon as I hung up from a call from Berkeley, California, something I'm certain the FBI knew, because we'd always suspected our phone was tapped, but I never thought about it because I was talking to Ivan. The FBI weren't looking for him, were they?

I had no way of knowing. Teddy was a draft resister and the FBI wanted him. After they gave up following us, expecting us to meet him somewhere, we were sure they bugged our phones so if Teddy phoned home, they could trace the call back to him.

Teddy never phoned home and who ever the contact was that kept Pop informed about Teddy, I never knew and Pop never said, but he always knew if Teddy was safe or not.

*****

President Nixon had a secret plan to end the war in Vietnam in 1968, while he ran for president. The war droned on into 1969 and little changed. It dragged on into 1970 and a thousand American soldiers died each month while Nixon was in office. The secret that was so secret he couldn't tell anyone. The war droned on.

Since I didn't believe anything politicians said, Nixon's promise didn't impress me at the time he made it. Once it was forgotten, it fit right in with most promises politicians made. I went about my business.

I heard of the shooting the day before. Everyone on a college campus knew about it by the time I reached the gate at school on Tuesday morning. My schedule was changed by a cop.

This was my wake up call.

“National Guard troops gunned down war protesters on an Ohio campus,” was how it was reported. 'Details on the evening news.'

The usual comments, 'Commie sympathizers' and 'Dirty hippie trash' hardly registered. It was how people opposed to the war were described. Anyone who disagreed with our government was automatically a commie traitor. There was nothing new. War protesters were seen as the country's rabble. Boys refusing to go to Vietnam were cowards. No one got an opinion but the government.

War protesters were kids. Most kids were smart enough to know that this government intended to send them to Vietnam to be the next to die. Instead of standing in line like sheep to the slaughter, some young men refused the president's invitation to go to war.

I knew because I'd gone to one of the early marches. I saw the age of the protesters. I heard them say that the Vietnamese didn't do anything to them.

By Tuesday morning, May 5, 1970, the story began to change.

“Four students at Kent State University in Ohio were gunned down during a protest of the troops being on Kent State's campus. This was their reaction to news that Nixon had expanded the Vietnam War into Cambodia.”

The Vietnam War had come home to America in 1970. The war protests had been gaining momentum for several years and “Hell no, we won't go,” replaced, “Hey, hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?” as the chant for Richard M. Nixon.

No one could explain why we were in Vietnam, besides the usual, 'We're fighting the commie hordes and protecting America.” Commies looked like Russians and Chinese all my life. Now they looked like Vietnamese. It was a difficult change to understand.

All I'd heard initially was four killed by troops somewhere or other. Like most things that year, it hadn't registered with me. I had finals to worry about and Dylan was having a rough time. I spent a lot of nights walking and rocking my son.

I didn't have classes on Monday. The magnitude of what took place at Kent State University hadn't gotten through to me. No one at the house was aware of it either.

I drove to Fort Myers on Tuesday for my nine o'clock English class. I didn't turn on the radio on the way to school. I'd found some unusual specimens on my last dive and I was anticipating consulting the biology section of the university library to place them.

The world for the most part was moving on without me paying much attention. The depressing body count from Vietnam had me changing the station any time it was mentioned on the car radio. There comes a times when the news reaches you even when you don't pay attention. I had a cop deliver it to me at the entrance to my college.

“Go home, kid. Schools out. Call before you come back. The schools closed until further notice.”

I was already a semester behind on a five year degree. If he hadn't been a cop, I might have argued the point. I was too tired to argue with anyone. I did wonder what was going on.

I'd learn later that students who lived a lot closer to campus than I did took over the administration building the day before. The cop was right. School was out and it was out for the summer.

As I drove away from school, I tuned on my car radio until I heard people talking in severe voices. There was campus unrest. Schools were closing all over the country from Columbia University in New York to UCLA in California. Students were told to stay home.

What they weren't saying was that students had already taken over the administration buildings on most major campuses. The people running the Vietnam war had collided head on with the people expected to fight it. There was an explosion of anger no one could have predicted.

If there was no school, I'd go to work. The idea that the U.S. military gunned down unarmed college students on campus began to sink in. I got angrier as I drove. They'd gone too far this time. I was a college student.

The usual suspects came to mind, Nixon, Kissinger, and the Masters of War. What would make them think killing students was the way to go to make the war more popular? I may not have known much, but I didn't think this was going to go over too well.

I went into Pop's shop expecting business as usual. I was even going to ask Pop if he'd heard about Kent State and did he know what would make soldiers fire on students. I wanted to make sense of it.

Much to my surprise, I found the television back on the table in Pop's shop. It was broadcasting responses to the killings at Kent State. Everyone who worked at the conservancy stood watching.

The news shifted from campus to campus as reporters announced, “Classes are canceled here too, Walter. Students have taken over the school's administration buildings. The buildings have been surrounded by the police, but so far they're keeping their distance. It's the kind of standoff I never thought I'd see here.”

The students had decided the killing had come too close to home. They weren't taking any more. If the leaders of America thought that killing a few students would silence them, they were sadly mistaken.

War protesters were everywhere. If students were going to die here, they intended to die stopping the war machine. They were ordered to come out of the buildings if they wanted to avoid arrest. The students stayed put.

By Tuesday morning students everywhere were joining the protest. It wasn't simply university students. Reports of high school students walking out of school began coming in. From high school to Vietnam wasn't unusual for thousands of high school boys. Not everyone was willing to go because politicians said it was a good idea.

In some places cops were photographed dragging students out of administration buildings. Even more students rushed in to replace the ones dragged away. These kids barricaded the doors. There weren't enough police to clear the buildings and keep them clear.

The students weren't armed but the cops were. No one knew what came next. It was televised chaos as the world watched.

If the military got away with killing students, students weren't safe anywhere. As I stood in Pop's shop with the people who worked there, we watched them replay the tape of the National Guard troops shooting thirteen unarmed students, none closer than twenty-five yards away. If the students were throwing bottles and rocks, why not fall back before you fire into a group of kids? Who shot kids and why?

Was this how the military operated? Who sent troops onto a college campus? Someone was responsible.

Walter Cronkite gave the toll, “Four were dead and nine were wounded.”

As the day progressed new details were released about the campus shootings. Two of the dead were doing nothing more subversive than changing class. A long way from where the troops made their stand. No one could spin this into something worthwhile.

“Who puts armed troops on a college campus?”

That was the question being asked.

Kent State wasn't just a school. It became a battle cry.

An angry man's face appeared in front of an Ohio camera, and he barked, “They should have killed more of those commie sons-of-bitches. They're all traitors.”

No attempt was made to override the profanity. Something about shooting children made the truth more important than the facade of politeness Americans liked to project.

I could see the mouths of my fellow employees fall open. This kind of comment was repeated over and over, especially supporters of Gov. Rhodes decision to send the National Guard onto the already angry campus. It was the reaction of the 'America, love it or leave it,' crowd. Men who probably had school age kids were delighted war protesters were being shot. “They got what they deserved.”

I was horrified.

Is this what America had become? The killing had come home.

*****

There was no peace in America's heartland that week. The killings put everyone on edge. Kent State wasn't ten thousand miles away. There were four dead in Ohio.

“What are we doing to our kids?” one woman asked as we watched smoke rising from the soldiers rifles again and again as newsman showed maps of where the troops were, where the students were, and where the dead fell. It was full time coverage and there were no troops in sight.

The Sanibel Island conservancy wasn't a hotbed of liberalism. It wasn't American kids facing the Vietnamese. These were our kids facing our military and some didn’t survive the encounter.

Instead of calling in the troops, why not close the school if things were that out of control?

*****

Seeing those guns firing on the students, I saw the end of the Vietnam war. I didn't think Nixon and Kissinger could keep the war going now. They'd be forced to bring the troops home. The people who liked the shooting were seen first, expressing approval.

The rest of America was in shock over what their government had done. They'd have more to say in due time.

The bombing didn't stop, even after Kent State. The dying didn't stop, but the strategy changed and our troops began coming home.

Once the news began repeating itself on Tuesday, everyone went back to work. There was a pervasive sadness hanging over the conservancy that day. What we'd seen was impossible to comprehend. There was no reason people with guns shot people without guns, except they could.

Were we still in America? What had we become? Isn't this what they did to their people in East Germany?

*****

Mama called about the time I settled down enough to get some work done. It was Lucy's day to help in the lab. I was picking her up once school was out.

Mama had me paged just before noon.

“There's trouble at the high school, Clay. Go get Lucy. Don't say anything to your father. Just say I'm sending you on an errand.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, heading for the exit.

There were no troops in southwest Florida but there were plenty of cops. I'd rest easier once Lucy was in the car. It looked like it was going to be a long hot summer.

Madison High was fairly conservative in my day. I couldn't imagine Lucy being able to stir up much trouble in that atmosphere. Mama may be exaggerating but I wasted no time. I didn't see a single cop car, until I turned on the school road.

The biggest trouble our local sheriff faced was on weekends when folks tended to drink too much. In such case our sheriff drove them home for safety's sake.

As I approached the student parking lot a dozen police cars were parked along the shoulder. There was the sheriff's car, his two deputies car, four state troopers, and six county police cars. I had butterflies in my stomach. What was going on?

It was too late to turn back now. Whatever was going on, I had driven into it.

I turned into the entrance of the student parking lot.

I didn't see a single uniformed officer as I parked behind the rows and rows of student's cars.

There was no visible disturbance or any sign of violence. There were no ambulances or flashing lights on emergency vehicles.

Where was everyone?

I was still a hundred yards from the school. I opened the Chevy's door.

Where were the cops from all those cop cars?

Chapter 16

War, Peace, & Love

I drove right into the student parking lot at Madison high without encountering a single cop. There were no police cars on school grounds I saw. I felt it was a good sign. I had a hard time seeing Madison high school becoming an anti war haven. It was a rural area with conservative values.

In front of the school were the three hundred students. In the windows and doors were most of the teachers and the administrators.

I also saw a big cop with a huge gun on his hip ambling toward me. If not for the uniform, he'd look like any cowboy in a John Wayne movie.

“Clay Olson,” the cop said as if he knew me.

Then he pushed his hat away from his eyes.

“John Foley, Teddy's buddy from the A&P?” I asked.

“One and the same, pilgrim,” he said. “I graduated with Teddy. I used to ride around in this buggy with him. I knew it as soon as I saw you turn into the parking lot.”

“He left it with me,” I said.

“Nice wheels. This car is a classic. He OK?” John asked. “I hear stuff. Never figured your brother for a draft dodger.”

“Draft resister, John,” I corrected. “I don't know where he is. The last time I saw him he was fine.”

We leaned on the hood of the car, watching the students stand around. People in the school watched from the windows and doors.

“Nasty business, this war,” John reflected. “You're after someone? Class officers were speaking a minute ago. Nothing rowdy. The speakers have been subdued. No rebel rousing. No one is very happy about the Kent State deal, Clay. Can't say I understand it. Killing kids to prove a point? That's bogus. They fired on school kids. The people who run this country shot children.”

“Does it surprise you, John? These kids represent the next cannon fodder politicians intend to send to Vietnam. They aren't stupid,” I said. “Some of these kids are destined to die because of what? What do we hope to accomplish over there?”

“You're with Teddy on the one. I can tell. I do my job. They tell me to fire on school kids, that's the day I quit. They could pay me enough to kill a kid.”

“I'm for no more killing of anyone. I'm here after my sister,” I said. “She knows the car. Maybe she'll come over if she sees it.”

“The kids walked out at noon. Teachers forbid it but at noon the school emptied into the parking lot.”

“I guess they don't like the idea of going to Vietnam and they like being shot at school even less,” I said. “We are taught to obey, but there comes a time when obedience goes against your instincts.”

“Tell me about it. They called us saying there was a riot at the high school. The chief called the county. Everyone's on edge after the Kent State deal went down. The county boys called in the state boys for backup, and here we are.”

“A bit of over kill. It's Madison High School for Pete sake.”

“Yeah, we should have come out to take a look see first, but what's done is done. This is what we found when we got here. Mad kids. Hell, I'm mad. Killing gook over in Vietnam is one thing. Killing American kids is bogus, man.”

“You remember what Teddy used to call gooks, John?”

“No, can say as I do.”

“Vietnamese. You know, the folks who live in Vietnam.”

John looked me over for a second before he continued.

“My chief told us to stand down once he knew the situation. The county boys and staties agreed not to go charging in with lights and sirens. A good way to start a riot where none exists.”

“Glad someone has some common sense,” I said. “Someone put the National Guard troops on that campus. They either had no sense, or they knew what might happen and then let it happen,” I said.

“Who would want soldiers to kill kids?” John challenged.

“That's a question that should be answered, John.”

“My chief said to watch and keep order without starting a riot. Nothing has happened for us to do anything about. What we have here are a few hundred truants. We won't get our panties in a twist over it. Not me anyway. ”

“I want to get my sister out of here. No telling what might set these kids off. Would you walk with me while I look for her? You can part the seas so to speak.”

“Sure. Nothing going on. Kids are talking to each other. It's been like this since I got here. It's like a fire drill. Come on, I'll take you to where the only action is. Maybe they'll give a holler for your sister.”

I followed John into the crowd. There were students standing on the bed of a pickup truck. I heard a familiar voice as we waded through the students. I looked up to see Lucy beginning to speak.

“I'm Lucy Olson, president of the sophomore class. I'm here representing the class of '72. I'm happy to be part of this protest. We can't allow this war to continue. The killing in Vietnam is out of control. Now they're killing students for protesting the killing in Vietnam and Cambodia. When did the government declare us the enemy? We aren't the enemy. We are the people. Our government is out of control. When it aims its rifles at school kids, they're aiming at us. If we let them get away with training their rifles on us, we deserve what we get.”

There was a mixture of applause and shouts from the crowd. The teachers inside the school had gone pale. This was anarchy to them. “I've only got one thing to add to what the other class officers have said here today,” Lucy said loud enough for me to hear her.

“I think you found your sister,” John said. “Lucille sure grew up well,” John said.

“Oh, don't call her that if you know what's good for you. She's Lucy,” I warned.

“I'll remember that.”

“I came to rescue her,” I said. “She seems to have her own ideas.”

“Doesn't sound like she needs much rescuing,” John said, watching Lucy scan the students below her. “I'll hang around to see you two get to your car safely.”

“Thanks, John. I appreciate that,” I said.

I was worried. I didn't like crowds and I didn’t know what could set this one off.

“When I was a little girl, my brother told me something about this war and the day he graduated from Madison High School.”

I found her comment a bit inaccurate. Lucy was never a little girl and I'd only graduated two years before.

“You going to get a trip down memory lane, Clay?” John asked.

“Hard to say. Lucy has a mind of her own. She's got something on it.”

“My brother, Clay, told me that on his graduation day, he didn't look at any of the senior boy's faces. This is for you, senior boys, listen up, and the girls who love senior boys, this is for you. My brother told me that the day he graduated, he didn't look at any senior boy's face. He feared seeing their names on a list of war dead one day. He didn't want his last memory of them to be at graduation. He wanted graduation day to be about hopes and dreams. The possibilities for the future being endless.”

“He didn't want to remember the last time he saw one of those boys who ended up on a list of war dead was at his graduation. A day when they all had their entire lives ahead of them. If we don't stop this war, one day some of your names will be on one of those lists.

“If that is the case, and a few of your names end up on a list of the war dead, I want my last memory of you to be of us standing here together today. Standing up against killing.”

Lucy was silent for a few seconds. Once more she scanned the faces of the people in front of her.

“There's been enough killing. We need to put a stop to it now. Whatever it takes, we need to stop the killing. Thank you. School's out. Have a nice summer,” Lucy declared. “See you in the fall.”

Everyone cheered.

John put out his hand to shake mine.

“Pretty powerful stuff, Clay,” he said. “I think your sister just closed this school for the summer.”

“She did,” I said.

“This war protest deal must run in the family,” he said. “Come on. I'll get you to your sister. You can get her out of here while it's still peaceful. No telling what those teachers might do. Kids taking over the school won't set well with the authoritarian types.”

When Lucy saw me, she came over and gave me a hug.

“I was just thinking about you,” she said.

“I heard,” I said.

We made our way to the car, leaving John to watch the kids.

“Why don't we get out of here before the mood changes. Is it OK to go to the conservancy?”

“Fine with me,” Lucy said. “My work here is done.”

“You're something,” I said, as I turned onto the highway. “You make me proud to be your brother, Luce.”

“That's a nice thing to say. Isn't it terrible,” Lucy said. “Look at all the police cars. Are these for us?”

“Kent State has everyone on edge,” I said.

“I would hope so,” she said. “They've brought the war home.”

“The reaction by students is amazing. Colleges and schools are in the hands of students all over the country,” I said.

“We aren't going back to class. We voted on it right after we walked out. We aren't important. The statement we make is.”

*****

When we arrived back at the conservancy, a couple of people watched the television set. I stopped to look at hundreds of students sitting in the middle of a highway somewhere.

“This is Route 1, a man commuter route between Washington and Baltimore. At a little past noon, students left their classes at Maryland University and sat in the middle of Route 1, Walter.”

“Any trouble?” Walter asked.

“No, they're just sitting in the highway. The police are keeping their distance so far.”

The camera scanned one side of the crowd where the street was lined with police cars parked sideways. It was Maryland State Troopers. Two dozen troopers stood, arms across their chest, leaning against their cars.

The camera scanned to the other side of the students where more troopers stood watching.

“Walter, here's the captain of the state police. I'll see if he won't talk to me. Excuse me, can you tell me what's happening.”

A man in uniform stepped up to the reporter. He towered over him with his state trooper hat making him look even taller. He looked into the camera.

“I've just spoken with Gov. Mandel and explained the situation. I told him Maryland students were sitting down in the middle of Route 1. The governor said, 'Let them sit there. Keep your distance. When they get hungry or need to pee... excuse me, can I say that?”

I'm sure the trooper was blushing.

“Under the circumstances a direct quote is OK by me. Right, Walter.”

“Tell it like it is,” Walter replied.

“'When they get hungry or have to pee, they'll leave,'” the trooper finished.

Once again common sense prevailed. When the kids got hungry or needed to pee, they got up and left Route 1. By five that afternoon, traffic was moving fine.

Each day until school closed for the summer, students left their classes shortly after noon, went and sat in the middle of Route 1, and by five they'd all gone. They made their point and the state police redirected traffic while they did.

*****

Not every school erupted in violence, but most schools had students who made a statement about what had been done at Kent State.

*****

After the Kent State massacre people began to get angry. It wasn't merely students any more. The country had tired of constant war. The stream of bodies coming back from Vietnam represented thousands of families and friends left to mourn.

Few places escaped burying war dead. The 'America, love it or leave it' crowd,' who once drowned out voices of reason, began to lose control of the media after Kent State.

Why are we over there?

Kent State was a catalyst for change. The people had awakened.

“There was light at the end of the tunnel,” Kissinger said.

War protests became huge.

They paralyzed Washington D.C.

*****

The country was split over the war in 1970, but voters agreed, if you're old enough to die for your country, you're old enough to vote.

“If politicians wanted everyone to vote,” Ivan told me. “You'd be registered to vote before you leave high school. If there was an election your senior year, you'd get a student ballot and vote. High school students know more about the country than their parents do.”

That was Ivan's opinion at fourteen.

A constitutional amendment passed allowing an eighteen year old to vote. No registration of high school students was mentioned. The most important issue to a boy of eighteen was the draft. It took longer to end the draft. It didn't end registration, which meant the draft can be brought back at any time.

Most boys did what they were indoctrinated to do. They did their duty. I remembered unruly boys from high school. The idea of giving these boys automatic weapons and teaching them to kill was insane.

The handwriting was on the wall. Opposition to the draft was growing along with the war protests.

Peace with honor became Nixon's position on the war. He continued bombing the North Vietnamese and Cambodians. Vietnamization was the policy. The South Vietnamese needed to fight their own battles now.

What a novel idea.

America's troops began to come home.

“Declare victory and come home,” politicians said.

*****

A little over a week after Kent State, two students were shot by police at Jackson State in Mississippi. It was unclear why unarmed students needed to be shot. A lot of things were unclear in Mississippi.

*****

I was in no danger of being drafted. Harry told me that in 1968. He intended to protect me. My college was paid for by the Sanibel Island Conservancy. My benefactor was a United States Congressman.

Kids not as lucky as me would be subject to punishment if they stepped out of line in the future. The new face of higher education was one of conformity. if you knew what was good for you, you'd keep a low profile.

The adults intended to regain control of schools and students.

*****

In 1960 the young were invisible and voiceless. No one asked what they thought about anything. They were just kids. By 1970 the kids were driving the bus and they drove it out of Vietnam.

The politicians would take the wheel once again. They'd do the driving from now on. Kids would sit in the back of the bus, quietly, if they knew what was good for them.

*****

I knew where I was going. I was halfway to a degree. I had Harry keeping me informed on official Washington. Ivan kept me posted on what soldiers and anti war protesters were saying.

Harry knew about politicians cutting the funding to education.

“They think maybe today's students are too well educated,” Harry said. “Free education means students with time on their hands. Time to protest things they don't like. Make students pay for their own college costs. Threaten to expel students who cause trouble. Students who are expelled forfeit their tuition. You have some serious penalties in place to restrain future protests. That's their thinking.”

By May of 1970 Ivan identified another tactic being used to silence anti war protesters. Cops were infiltrating and closing safe houses where anti war protesters ate, slept, and planned.

Marijuana was made a schedule one drug and possession would mean long jail sentences. War protesters were known to smoke a lot of grass. If caught with it their war protest days were over.

*****

“Hey, Babe,” Ivan said one Sunday.

“What's up, Ivan?”

“The safe house I lived in while I was in Seattle?”

“Yeah!”

“It was raided and closed. Everyone in the house was charged with possession of marijuana. Even the guy who owned the house, he wasn't there during the raid, but he was arrested later on drug charges. He's a freaking attorney. They won't let him in his house.”

“Sounds serious,” I said.

“Yeah, sources say there was a guy that came to the house and they took him in. He was a real hard charger. He wanted to burn things down and shoot the pigs. He was a narc. He was working with the police. The first time grass came out of someone's pocket, the place was raided.”

“Sounds like dirty pool,” I said.

“It does,” Ivan said.

*****

A couple of weeks later I told Harry about Ivan's call.

“I'll look into it,” Harry said.

*****

“It's what Nixon is calling his war on drugs,” Harry told me when he came home in August. “They've revised the penalty on schedule one drugs. You can go to jail for life if convicted of trafficking marijuana.”

“Can he do that?” I asked.

“He's the president. Wrap it in the flag and he can do most anything. Scuttlebutt has it, he's after war protesters and African- Americans. It's obvious why he wants to take war protesters down. The African-American component is called the Southern Strategy. It's a Lee Atwater construct. He plans for keeping Republicans in power.”

“They play politics with people's lives? Who does that?”

“Power is money, Clayton. Some men will do anything for either.”

“Is this America? It goes against what I've been taught.”

“I'll tell you what I know. Figuring out what's in the heart of men who do things like this is beyond my pay grade. By catering to the Jim Crow South, Nixon makes sure the GOP wins those states as a block for as long as the bigots stay in control.

“LBJ, a Democrat, passed voting rights and civil rights legislation. Not popular in the South. Nixon gives the Jim Crow South a tool to nullify black voters.”

“By locking them up?”

“I'd say that's what they have in mind.”

“Black folks aren't the ones who need to be locked up,” I said.

*****

Bill and I were studying a reef we'd discovered during one of our exploratory dives. We were keeping records on the types of sea creatures, their condition and numbers. We discussed what we found once the two of us got back to my lab.

Bill always concluded a day when we did a dive with his hypothesis on the current conditions. Conditions being a predictor of things to come for this reef and the Gulf.

This was the world I inhabited for much of my time each week. It was a peaceful place I wished everyone could enjoy, but if everyone did, there wouldn't be much left that was peaceful.

Some days I wished I could just stay underwater or take a walk on my beach and never stop walking.

*****

Harry's schedule wasn't any different than most congressman. He listened to voters, met with donors, and he did the things to prove he was the best man for the job.

Harry was at the conservancy a lot while he campaigned. On his first day home as his campaign went into high gear. Much to my surprise, Harry came to the lab to see me. He usually saw donors first and if he had time to talk, he left a message for me.

Harry knew colleges closed early. He knew about the goings on at Madison High School but it didn't come up. He came to the lab to talk and it took me by surprise.

“I see Lucy hasn't been here,” Harry said, looking at my desk full of papers as he sat in the chair next to it. “I'm free for two hours. Tell me everything I need to know, Clayton.”

When I looked up, I'm sure he saw the horror on my face. Where would I start? Where was Lucy when I needed her? Where did all the paper come from?

I was screwed.

“Actually, I'm hiding out. The phone hasn't stopped ringing and my campaign manager won't come to work until tomorrow. I have two meetings this afternoon. I need time to gather my thoughts. How about lunch, Clayton? You look hungry.”

“Sure,” I said, relieved he didn't want to know everything right away.

“Have I ever taken you to the Gulf Club, Clay?” Harry asked.

“No, sir,” I said, as Reginald closed the door for me.

I was in the plush backseat of the gleaming black stretch limo.

“This impresses the donors,” Harry said. “It belonged to Daddy. Reginald keeps it like Daddy might ask him to bring it around at any time. He was waxing it yesterday. I decided, to use it.”

“It's beautiful, Harry,” I said.

“There's a matter I need to discuss with you, Clay,” he said. “I do need to relax, but we can talk a little shop concerning you.”

“OK,” I said apprehensive.

Was this to be my last meal?

“Is the boat OK? Not giving you any trouble?”

“Fine. I don't have much time to use it. I mostly go on Bill's boat,” I said. “If I have time to do a dive alone, I take the fourteen footer. Maybe once or twice a month. It runs fine. Your man at the marina keeps it running.”

“My man at the marina tells me the hull is more sealant than wood. I want to have it restored to its original condition. The original wood was gorgeous. It'll impress donors too. I don't want you in the Gulf and have it sink on you.”

“I've never seen a sign of water inside the boat,” I said.

“I've been shopping for a replacement. I'm buying an eighteen foot Seaswirl. Bill's familiar with them. It'll be a good diving platform for you, Clay. Bill is buying one too.”

“I'm happy I have a boat to dive off of, Harry. Whatever you buy will be fine,” I said.

“Once you finish school, you'll be diving a lot. That's still a couple of years but I want to get a boat with that in mind. The Seaswirl will belong to the lab. It's your boat, Clay. You'll keep the keys.”

“I will? You know what you want, Harry. My job is to get the degree so I'm qualified to do it. Glad your plans for the future have me in them.”

“Clay, you are the future of the conservancy,” he said.

“August, when I'm home for recess, you'll go with us to get the new boat. You can pick the color you like.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

“That's when the campaigning starts. We'll have more time to talk then.”

“You going to win, Harry?”

“I'm in Daddy's seat. He had it for over twenty years. I was elected to it after he died. It's not easy to defeat a sitting congressman, Clay, and name recognition is half the battle. The voters know my name.”

Reginald opened the door for Harry before coming around to open mine.

The Gulf Club sat on a dune a few dozen yards above the Gulf of Mexico. There was a heavy duty pier behind the restaurant. It stretched out into the emerald green water a couple of hundred feet.

We were greeted by a man in a tuxedo. He called Harry by name, shook his hand, and escorted us across the restaurant with heads turning. We were seated a big windows that looked out on the dunes, oat grass, and the Gulf of Mexico.

“What a view,” I said.

“Thought you'd like it. We'll go out on the pier after we eat. I haven't made time to bring you here,” Harry said. “The food is good.”

I was in jeans. My tee-shirt had Flower Power written across my chest and flowers all over it. Most male patrons had on three piece suits, like Harry. I only saw two women.

“I feel out of place, Harry,” I said.

“You're never out of place when you're with Congressman Harry McCallister, Clay. You see the heads turn as we passed? They're all wondering who I've brought to lunch. They want to know who you are and why you're with me.”

Harry's head never turned as we crossed the restaurant. I didn't think he noticed the people looking at us.

“We're here for the lobster and the view,” Harry said.

“I've never had lobster,” I said.

“It's like crab, a sweeter richer flavor. You'll like it,” he said. “They fly it in fresh from Maine each morning.”

“We live in Florida and we're going to eat Maine seafood?”

Harry shrugged.

“It's where you get lobster. I love Maine lobster. You'll like it.”

I did.

“Come on,” Harry said, dropping a ten dollar bill on the table.

We walked to the end of the pier. The salty sea air furnished an intoxicating fragrance I loved.

“This is what it's all about, Clay. Look at that water, this view, the smell. I sit in my office in Washington and smell this. This is home.”

I was sure Harry and I were OK. I didn't know that until he talked about the new boat and took me to the Gulf Club. Standing with him on that pier made me feel closer to him than ever before.

I wanted to be a marine biologist more than I wanted anything. It's what he was paying me to do. I'd get my degree and I would make a difference one day.

“How'd you do at school?” Harry asked, once we were back in the car. “Grades.”

“I aced Bill's classes,” I said, knowing he knew that. “I average a B on the academic side. B in English, A in philosophy and ancient history. School closed early but they gave me my grades.”

“Good show. Bill says you're way ahead of his other students. He spends twice as much time with you too. I figured the lab would entice Bill to spend more time here, Clay. Bill likes working there. I furnish things his school won't buy.”

“I dive alone with Bill Wednesdays. After the dive we discuss what we've seen in the lab. He's a smart man, Harry.”

“Yes, he is. That's why I put you with him. Biology, botany, ecology, Bill knows his business. Not many marine biologist spend the time he does in Florida's waters.”

“The other students are in a more general program. Bill spoke of getting me into the Atlantic soon. The Gulf is my baby. Diving in the Atlantic will give me something to compare the Gulf with.”

“You keep doing what you're doing, Clay. I'll do my best to make some waves in D.C. After this election I'm no longer a freshman. I'll have more to say. I met Nixon, Clayton.”

“Nixon! Politics do make strange bedfellows, congressman.”

“He's partial to Florida. He wanted to know about the Gulf and the conservancy's work. He knew my father. He's a powerful ally.”

“Now if he could stop killing people,” I said.

Harry ignored the comment, knowing where I stood on the war.

“With the time you lost, when do you graduate? Bill says he'll certify you in the spring of 1972. You get the degree at graduation. The degree makes you a marine biologist.”

“I complete the academic credits in December 1973. I'm a semester behind on a five year degree. We stretched out my academic load so I completed Bill's courses first.”

“That's OK, I won't be able to use you in D.C. until you have the degree. I'll have plenty for you to do once Bill certifies you. You get a certain gravitas with Bill's endorsement, not to mention your association with the conservancy and a certain congressman. You have a rare combination of experiences that makes you an authority in your field, Clay.”

“Time has moved so fast, I hardly remember fishing, Harry.”

“There's something I'm going to let you in on. You can't tell anyone. Bill already knows. Nixon will establish the EPA soon.”

“EPA?” I asked.

“Environmental Protection Agency,” Harry said. “Nixon asked me to promote it. He knows my first interest is the environment.”

“Who won't vote to protect the environment?” I asked.

“You'd be surprised, Clay,” Harry said. “I want you to realize that our future, yours and mine, are tied to Dick Nixon on this project.”

“I'll pretend he's a regular guy, congressman,” I said stone faced.

Harry smiled.

*****

My teen years ended a few weeks later. I was twenty. I felt forty. Hopes that 1970 would be a better year weren't realized. Half the year was over.

Ivan had said nothing about being home for good soon.

*****

Ivan came home on my birthday without telling me. It was a great surprise. He wasn't sure when he'd be back. He would stay on the West Coast. He was plugged into the anti war movement and getting access to soldiers as they came off the plane. There were three from Boris' unit coming home the following week.

He wanted to be home for my birthday. It was always one of my best days when Ivan came home. He still needed to make sure I was still here.

On my birthday we were able to renew our love making with gusto. The sorrows and sadness had passed and Ivan filled my heart and my life. The first night he was there, we kept at each other until dawn, with a break when Dylan needed a dry diaper and a bottle.

Ivan put his hands over his ears as soon as Dylan screamed.

As dawn came along, Lucy came up to take Dylan. Somehow Lucy always knew when Ivan was there. I didn't ask her how, but she liked taking Dylan to give us more time.

When Ivan finally came down to dinner, we got a nice reception. Everyone was all smiles, except for Dylan. who stared at this new face at the Olson table. Almost a year old, Dylan was very aware of his little slice of the world. He knew Ivan was someone new.

Until I took Dylan's bottle and him upstairs, he watched Ivan. Everyone was talking to Ivan at the same time, asking him questions. This was a mystery for my son.

Ivan stayed two days and after I'd been up tending to Dylan, coming back to collapse into Ivan's arms on the third night, Ivan didn't go back to sleep. When I woke up, he was gone.

It was easier for both of us when he came in the night and I woke up in his arms, and after he'd been there for a time, I woke up one morning and I was alone again.

He never said I'm leaving tonight. He simply wasn't there when I woke up. I was accustomed to him not being there. I was never sorry when he came home.

It almost didn't hurt any more when I woke up to find him gone.

Almost.

Chapter 17

The Buck Stops

Harry came home for the August recess in late July. He told me they ran out of work on The Hill. I wasn't surprised to see a parking lot full of cars on his second day back.

“Everybody wants something, Clayton,” he told me.

Everyone wanted a favor from Congressman Harry McCallister during the election cycle in 1970. Few people had the gravitas to reach Harry's ear.

I was surprised when Harry was waiting for me to come to work on Monday the first week of August. He hadn't mentioned taking me anywhere. His overalls and baseball cap looked strange.

I didn't recognize him at first, when he waved me over to the conservancy pickup truck.

“Get in,” he said without explaining.

This wasn't like Harry. I'd been at his house over the weekend for a conservancy picnic. He'd been home all week the week before and nothing unusual went on that I was aware of anyway.

Harry was in good spirits and meeting with his campaign people.

“What's up, Harry?” I asked. “I didn't know you could drive.”

“Just a short ride. There's a little project I want you to see. There's a coffee and one of those jelly things you fancy in that bag.”

“Hey, breakfast! You're a regular guy, congressman.”

Harry was about to prove just how regular he could be. I was going on a journey that had begun six months before. Harry could keep a secret and not just the ones he picked up on Capitol Hill.

As we reached the other side of town, Harry waited to take the turnoff to the left that led to Twila's. A layer of gravel had been laid down on top of the dirt road. Someone had ironed out the ruts too.

“They'll asphalt this when we're done. It'll be easier to get in and out all year around.”

I sat forward in my seat as we passed a dozen flatbed trucks loaded with building materials. There was Sheetrock, roofing materials, two by fours, plywood, all the building materials you'd need to repair or replace things in a hundred rundown houses. There were carpenters, painters, plumbers, and electricians in smaller trucks that waited at the head of the line.

I was speechless. A chill ran through me.

“I moved Twila and her kids to our guest house yesterday. I'm in charge of the work at her house. You won't need to drive her while the work is going on. Reginald will take her where she needs to be until we finish. I'll be arranging a suitable car for her. She should have a car.”

What could I say? I wanted Harry to do something. I didn't have any idea what. He never said anything as he did what was needed.

“I know you thought I didn't hear you, Clay. I told you once, 'Things take time.' This was one of those things. Arrangements had to be made. Contractors needed to agree on a date. The laborers had to be available to do the work. Then there were electricians, plumbers, painters to hire. Once that was done, we needed to make sure there was a plan, people needed to make living arrangements while the work is being done. It took six months to get the pieces in place and the money to pay the bills, which brings us to today. The work begins at nine this morning.”

“Congressman, you amaze me,” I said, feeling a weakness in the pit of my stomach.

“The day you brought me up here, I was ashamed of myself, Clayton. I knew this place existed. I knew it wasn't very nice, but I'd never come up here to see it. When you made me look at it, I felt sick. You told me I needed to do something. Well, Clay, I've done it.”

“Yes, you have, Harry. My father is the best man I know. You've just about pulled even with him. You make me proud to be associated with you, even though you're a politician.”

Harry laughed. His eyes sparkled when he looked at me.

“The wheels turn slowly, Clay. I talked to my donors and I told them we needed to assist our black citizens. There was some resistance, as you might expect, but people began calling me wanting to help. People who I didn't expect to step up did.

“Then there were the black leaders to talk to. It took a bit of doing to get them to meet with us. When we told them what we had in mind, they came on board. Before this, when white men called for black men to meet with them, it often meant trouble. Knowing we wanted to help changed the atmosphere. We were able to exchange ideas and hear their suggestions,” Harry said.

“This is only the start. We'll asphalt this road once the construction is done and the big trucks are gone. We'll put a new roof on each house. We'll expand the floor plan if they need more room. We can easily add two bedrooms to each house, replace the roof, and put on a nice front porch for good measure. There will be sidewalks going to the front porch and the roads in the village will be asphalt with curbing and sidewalks.

“Then we'll do the inside work. New doors, windows, and floors where needed. We'll bring in the electricity and make sure the electric and plumbing systems are up to code. Electric lines are coming next week. In short this village will become a nice place to live. I do expect to pick up a considerable number of black voters, I might add.”

“I bet you will, congressman. Thanks. I didn't want to mention it again. I thought I probably shot my mouth off in a way that was less than respectful. You are my boss, Harry. I do respect you and I know you're a good man. I wasn't sure how good, until now.”

“Yes, that may well be true but politicians are an unscrupulous lot. You, Clayton, know my heart. You'll find no politics there. Few people can get my attention the way you do. In you I see the future. In you I see the conscience of the conservancy. Maybe my conscience too. One thing is for sure, I know you speak up when you have something on your mind, Clay.”

“You've got my vote, Harry McCallister,” I said, as proud of him as I'd ever been of anyone. “As well as my admiration.”

“A gift I'm grateful to have.”

Harry looked at me carefully. I could see that powerful mind working on who I was and where we were going. I had no doubt his vision was better than mine and he could see further than I could see.

“I'll tell you this, Clay, if you do what you love, you'll never work a day in your life. I've been lucky enough to do what I love. What we're doing today, helping people, it's what makes life worth living,” he said thoughtfully

“You reminded me of that, Clayton. Being in Washington with the power and the wealth, a congressman can lose sight of what's truly important. Why he went to Washington in the first place,” Harry said. “I don't want that to happen to me. I want to keep my passion for the environment and the joy I get from making my constituents smile.”

“I see this in you, Clay. Your love and passion for the Gulf and what's in it. Your desire to make it better. Captain Aleksa told me about the kid who examined the things that came out of the sea. Then I found out you were an Olson. Your father told me the same thing Mr. Aleksa said. You were passionate about sea creatures. I saw that you loved it and if I could capture that and put it to work, you'd never need to look for work. We've come along way and the Gulf isn't the only thing you're passionate about. It's been fun watching you grow, Clay.

“You've opened my eyes to more than what's in the Gulf. I try to imagine what it is you see when you look at things. I know we don't see the same things, but what you see intrigues me.”

“You've given me the chance to do what I think I'm meant to do. It's what I want to do. I don't know what I'd be doing if I wasn't at the conservancy. I feel immersed in everything about the Gulf. I'm living and breathing the Gulf. It's become part of me.”

“It's the kind of thing I hoped to find in you. I haven't been disappointed. You'll earn your place as our marine biologist by the time you've got the paper to prove you are one. I hope we're in time. There are times I feel like we started too late.”

I suppose I'd had some sense that Harry approved of how I was doing and what Bill Payne was telling him. I liked hearing it from him and I knew a lot of what he was telling me is what Bill Payne told him.

“Who is paying for all this, Harry?” I asked. “If you don't mind me asking you.”

“Ah, Mr. Olson, never underestimate the power of a politician to raise funds and whatever else is required. Most of these people were more than happy to do something for their congressman. Everyone wants something from their congressman sooner or later. The most prosperous folks want the most, and they are betting I won't forget that they were there when I asked for a favor.”

“You milked the rich folks,” I said. “Got them to pony up.”

“Exactly,” he said. “I went where the money is.”

“Now you owe all these people something?”

“No, they have my ear. The only promise I make is to listen and consider what they want. Don't get me wrong, most people don't get that close to me in an official capacity. So in a manner of speaking, they do buy access, but there are no politics without money and access. In every case, I listen and do what's right for my district, which is what I'm elected to do.”

*****

As Harry got out of the pickup at the crest of the hill, he tossed me the keys.

“Here,” Harry said. “You have work to do. Reginald will come for me when I'm ready to go. I wanted you to see this before we started. It all takes time, Clayton. It all takes time.”

He walked toward the gathering of what looked like contractors and builders. Backs were slapped. Smiles covered the faces. These were no doubt his donors too, and they agreed it was time to bring the colored town into the twentieth century.

I stayed to watch the roofers and carpenters move down the hill into the village. The residents voted on the new name of the village. Harry didn't want it named after him but the people had spoken and New McCallister became a nice place to live in the fall of 1970.

Once the work was completed, Harry cut the ribbon at the crest of the hill as the residents applauded him and the builders who came to watch and were treated to a community picnic.

I felt like I was walking on air the day Harry took me to see what they'd accomplished before Thanksgiving that year. The only thing I could do to create change was run my mouth. This time I'd gone to the right man. I felt some responsibility for the change. It had me feeling quite good about myself. Things could get better.

Congressman Harry McCallister came through for his constituents and he made me proud to work for him.

*****

Harry was reelected in November of 1970. He won reelection without breaking a sweat. He got virtually every black vote in his district. That was twenty percent of the electorate at the time.

Doing what he'd done for the black community didn't sit well with everyone. Harry lost votes because he rebuilt the black village, but those opposed to it didn't call it the black village.

“If doing the right thing costs me votes, Clayton,” Harry said. “I can live with that. I don't want those votes.”

Harry believed in the proposition, 'All men are created equal,' even when they were women, poor, or people of color.

*****

There were a lot of butt heads around. I knew this because of the condition of the world. I was lucky not to know any in 1970.

*****

Ivan had been home for my birthday in 1970.

He stopped in the middle of the night one night in July. I'm not sure when it was. We spent the night making love and I never did ask where he was coming from or going to.

His visits were like that.

Ivan was back at Christmas. He was full of stories and exciting chatter about the men he'd met. It was over Christmas that we talked about us, but we ended up talking about what it was like going from town to town, dealing with so many new people.

Ivan felt like he was getting closer to Boris by talking to the men who served with him. I liked hearing his stories. We were OK. I knew this because from the time he came, until he left, we were making love, just finished making love, or we were eyeballing each other across the table as we ate, thinking about making love.

If I'd had plans before he arrived at the conservancy house, I don't remember. Nothing got done while he was home. Well, one thing got done and done and done, and it was done quite well, thank you.

Before his trek began we lived together on our beach for years.

I was concerned about the places Ivan went. He'd been on the West Coast for several months. His second year on the road had become the third and it was about to become 1971.

He'd been given the names of boys who lived in Georgia and Alabama. They'd come home since Ivan went west. It was close enough for him to make it home each time he came to see one of the boys in nearby states.

“Why the West Coast? It puts you a long way away, Ivan.”

“It's where it's happening, Clay,” he said. “Out there I can see the way the wind blows before it blows this way. People are friendly. People flip you the peace sign while you walk down the street.”

“The peace sign?” I asked.

He flipped up his index finger and the finger next to it in a V.

I listened because he was telling me his story. I understood every word but that didn't mean I always liked what I heard. Some soldiers, like Cousin Carl, Ivan talked about more than others. Ivan was fond of them. I could tell which ones he liked best. There was nothing sexual, because he told me everything about those boys.

I wondered if he liked one too much would visits home stop.

*****

Ivan was walking close to the edge. The earth was shifting under him and the anti war protesters he'd associated himself with.

I didn't need to go to the West Coast to know which way the wind blew. I asked a certain congressman. Harry told me what he knew, when I asked. He knew plenty about the Masters of War.

The powerful intended to keep power no matter what it took. The wind blew east from California and that's where the trouble would start, but it always ended up coming east. You could only go so far.

While change should make things better, I wanted to wait and see for myself. As much as I thought we needed to change, I didn't see how the people Ivan was talking to would stay out of jail.

If Ivan could find the center of the counterculture, so could people less friendly to them than Ivan. It was too simple to be able to go from protest directly to change that would make things better. I hoped I was wrong.

I wanted Ivan's search to be easy so he could return home soon.

I didn't get a feeling of well being from the information Ivan was giving me. He was excited by talking to men who served with Boris. I'm sure hearing stories about Boris made him feel close to him.

Ivan found the movement's underground. It's where draft resisters and war protesters met and planned. Cousin Carl Kilgore led Ivan there, after they met in the Seattle U. District, next to the University of Washington.

Carl came home on leave from Vietnam for his father's funeral. He didn't go back when his emergency leave expired. Carl went underground in Seattle, taking Ivan with him, after Ivan told him what he was doing.

Between safe houses you hitchhiked, which was the safest way to travel if you were on the run. Cousin Carl was given a clean I.D., once he stopped looking like he just stepped out of a uniform. He got instructions where to go next.

Local police weren't interested in people passing through, as long as they kept moving. The highways were filled with hippies who were on the move. The housing and feeding of hippies were in few towns' budget.

Federal authorities watched planes, trains, and bus stations for AWOL soldiers. Most knew to lay low until their hair grew out. Then they moved along the highways between safe houses. Once you reached a safe house, they were told where to go to get their needs met.

Once the underground knew what Ivan was doing, they sent him to a dude in a uniform who he met on a park bench in San Francisco.

“I eat my lunch here most days,” the man told Ivan. “I need the unit and date of the action where your brother went MIA. I'll take a look at it. I'll get a copy of the official report. Come back in one week. I'll have the information I can get. I'll leave it on the bench when I'm done eating. Wait on the grass under that tree until I've gone. Then get up, sit down on the bench, and when you leave, take the papers with you. Do not read them here. Do not speak to me or act like you know me. You don't. This will be our only conversation.”

The list Ivan ended up with included the names of the soldiers in Boris' unit and where they'd enlisted. Those still on active duty had their discharge date next to their names. Those already discharged had that date next to their name. There was KIA marked next to the names of the men who wouldn't be returning home.

Boris was the only soldier on the list designated MIA.

*****

Ivan felt safe with the counterculture. He described it as feeling like he was in a movie about the underground in World War II.

He saw a far larger flow of hippies up and down the Route 5 corridor than anywhere he'd been since leaving our beach. Ivan heard talk of communes and farms off the beaten path where hippies were welcome in Northern California and in Oregon. These were destinations for those who took Dr. Leary's advice, “Turn on, tune-in, drop out.”

The counterculture was a mixed bag. Some folks were all in and wanted as little to do with a society that sanctioned war. Some people stayed in place and worked to change the culture away from war.

Ivan liked Berkeley because of the free flow of information available to him there. People with names like Moonbeam, Gray Ghost, and Jester had him wondering who they really were and why new names replaced the ones their parents gave to them.

Cousin Carl and Ivan stuck together. Carl was being counseled to make a new start in Canada. The need to look over his shoulder would be removed if he relocated to Canada. There was an underground network there that advised men like Carl and Teddy.

Ivan asked Carl why he decided to desert but Carl only said, “I might tell you one day but not today.”

Ivan sounded better than he had in some time at Christmas. The hope of getting some comprehensive information on the battle where Boris was lost excited him. Having the names of the soldiers who were in the battle with Boris made his search easier to plan.

I made a point of remembering the things Ivan told me. I intended to talk to Harry about it. I was scared by some of what Ivan told me. The people he was associating with had to be on someone's list of subversives. I didn't want Ivan on that list.

I wanted Harry's reaction to the information I was getting. Ivan had a link to the people working against the government. Harry was inside that government and he knew what they were up to. I was certain he'd tell me if Ivan was in jeopardy.

Every step Ivan took carried him farther from me. The phone calls were fewer as were his visits by 1971. He'd warned me the year before that this was going to happen.

I loved Ivan no less but I couldn't help but worry about him and for myself. Was I inviting him to leave and never come back?

I thought Congressman Harry McCallister could and would help Ivan in a pinch. I intended to keep him in the loop for that reason. Harry had said nothing that indicated he wouldn't help Ivan if the situation required it.

*****

One of the greatest moments of my life came a month after Ivan's last visit in 1970 and before I had a chance to talk to Harry in more depth to get his read on Ivan's activities.

One day while disposing of one of Dylan's toxic diapers, Dylan was cooperating as much as an infants do, he absolutely shook my world.

Once I had him spic and span, I began bolting on a freshly laundered diaper, courtesy of Mama. My son picked that minute to surprise me by making his first speech.

“Mama,” Dylan said as plain as you please.

“Are you ever off base,” I said, giving him a little tickle as a reward for the effort.

“Mama,” he blurted again, as he giggled and twisted, expecting another tickle.

“You have it your way, but you've got a lot to learn,” I told him.

As the final pin went into what must have been one of the finest diapering jobs ever, I gave him a tickle and hoisted him straight up over my head, which always pleased him.

“Dada,” he said, as he looked down at my face.

What a kid!

I hugged him to me and said, “You are a quick learner, Dylan. I'm your Daddy, kiddo, and I'll be here for you until you outgrow me.”

Mama was probably the most used word in Dylan's world. He'd call Mama Mama too. I did my best to get him to add grand to it. He didn't like such restrictions. Mama was Mama to everyone and he refused to be discriminated against.

I was the only one distressed by this breach with convention.

Daddy was who I was. No matter what he learned or what I told him, I was Daddy. Dylan knew who took care of him and who kept him safe from the things in the shadows.

When he was fussy, I took him. When he had nightmares, I rescued him from them.

In many ways Dylan rescued me. Sunshine had been right in saying that having Dylan was the best thing she'd ever done. The best thing I'd done was marrying Sunshine, making Dylan my son.

*****

I'd begun picking Twila up and dropping her off at her new house, shortly after the holidays. I would always remember the first time I drove her to the usual spot where she got out of my car.

Twila was strangely silent the first time I took her home after work on New McCallister was completed. She never mentioned the work going on where she lived and she was at my house every morning. I didn't bring the subject up. It was none of my business.

It's the way I felt about it.

As far as Twila knew, I knew nothing about the work. Then I turned to the left off the highway to go to the colored section of town. The gravel road had been turned into a silk ribbon of asphalt.

“Nice,” I said, feeling the smoothness under my tires.

“It is,” she said.

I stopped at the usual spot where Twila got out and was ready to say goodbye. Twila sat firm.

“You aren't going to take a lady to her door? Mr. Clay, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were a gentleman.”

“I'd be honored,” I said, feeling a weakness in my stomach.

I drove over the hill to get my first look at New McCallister with the residents back home.

It sparkled.

Every dwelling had fresh paint and looked nice. Flowers were growing around some houses. Grass was turning green as lawns took hold.

“Turn right here. My house is the second on the right,” Twila said.

I stopped where she indicated. It was a small place with two children sitting on the front porch. The door was open and an older girl stood behind the screen door. The white paint gleamed.

“Mr. Clay,” Twila said softly, putting her hand on my forearm. “I know who did this. They voted to name it McCallister, after Mr. Harry. It'll always be Clayton to me. Thank you,” Twila said. “Miss Sunshine would be very proud of you.”

Twila slid out of the car.

The two kids ran down the steps to greet their mama.

*****

I wiped tears from my eyes as i drove home.

It was a beautiful day.

Wasn't life wonderful?

Chapter 18

Dylan's World

I dove with Bill and his students twice a week until the holidays. Bill and I dove alone on Wednesday afternoons as often as he was available. We went to my lab to discuss the dive afterward.

I'd give my impressions first. Then Bill told me about his observations and what they meant. The repetition of these Wednesday dives sealed Bill's words in my brain. It was the most valuable study time I got.

On the rare occasions when I dove with Harry, I updated him on what Bill was teaching me. This constant exchange of facts gave me more confidence in the story I told. I tailored what I told Harry to be more like what I'd say to people who came to my lab to talk shop.

By the beginning of 1971 they had begun to come to my lab to talk. Some were donors, some marine biologists, and students involved in the same search for facts as me. In those days these people didn't stumble upon the conservancy lab and its marine biologist in training, they ran into Bill or Harry and were sent to review what I knew, comparing it with what they knew.

I had to keep my facts straight and ready at a moments notice if I didn't want to sound like a fool.

*****

When I dove, no matter the circumstances, I was one with the sea. I knew no greater peace than while I swam with the fish.

*****

Before Harry left for Washington, after another successful election, we sat with drinks at the Gulf Club, waiting for the lobster to reach our table from Maine. I drank ice tea. Harry drank bourbon and branch water.

He wore a three piece suit. I kept a nice shirt and jacket in the lab for when Harry said, 'Let's go to lunch.'

I didn't give up my jeans but I felt less out of place with my tee-shirt under a nice button up shirt with a jacket on top. The man with the tuxedo met us at the door and guided us to Harry's table. The heads turned as we passed the other diners.

“I was as shocked as you, Clay. Kent State is a turning point. Unfortunately it takes an event such as that to wake us up. Times are changing but they change faster when voters get angry. It's the anger that gets them into the voting booth.”

“We don't intend to keep dying for Washington's stupidity. This isn't W.W.II. It's a pissing contest with the commies and their laughing at us for spending the treasury on a senseless war. They know all anyone has to do is point and say there's a commie and we start wetting our pants. What happened to thought and reason, Harry?”

“A bit harsh, Clayton. I think they get that students aren't dying to get to Vietnam. I don't see congressman volunteering their sons. Most younger members get what's going on. The Pentagon runs the show and they are requesting an increase in troop strength again. They won't get it this time.”

Harry was forty. I was twenty. Seeing him as one of the younger members helped to explain the problem. I saw the government imparting its wisdom to the peasants and they spent a lot of time writing self-serving legislation to help themselves and their friends. “You guys live well on our dime, Harry.”

“Younger men are getting elected. We hear what the people are saying, but there is a lot of resistance to the idea of pulling back from Vietnam. We've never lost a war and the old guard doesn't want to lose this one.”

“You don't think there's going to be a serious reaction if we don't make a serious effort to achieve peace? The Kent State unrest is going to be a picnic compared to what happens if we don't get serious about leaving those people be, Harry.”

“Yes, well, I'm sure arrangements are being made to avoid a repeat of those unfortunate demonstrations. Kids can't be allowed to run the colleges. Peace and Love isn't how you win a war.”

“Ivan says they're going to do sit-ins at recruiting offices and military installations.”

“I thought Ivan was searching for his brother. What's he doing out there? He really doesn't want to get in too deep with this anti war crowd. The people running the show intend to fight.”

“It's where the anti war protests started. He's getting information from people inside the government. They're helping the anti war protesters. Everyone isn't out to rule the world.”

“That’s a scary thought. Ivan doesn't want to get in too deep. Those groups are being watched. The universities are getting ready for trouble.”

“Reagan calls them brats and cowardly fascists. He wants to take them by the scruff of the neck and throw them off campus for good.”

“You get that from Ivan?” Harry asked, taking a long pull on his bourbon.

“Yes, he calls to tell me what's going on. He's been out there for a while.”

“I take it Gov. Reagan has little use for anti war protesters,” Harry said. “I remember him as a B actor in Santa Fee Trail. He did advertising for Borax on television and General Electric. We shouldn't forget GE. They're heavily invested in the countries defense contracting. They don't simply make your mama's toaster any more. He's acting like governor and opposing student revolts sounds like the roll of a lifetime for a man who starred in Bedtime for Bonzo. Bonzo being a monkey and that's what Reagan is making out of voters. I didn’t take him seriously as an actor. In spite of that tell Ivan he should be careful not to get too close to the anti war movement. It isn't healthy and don't ask me how I know that.”

“Reagan's a perfect example of how men in power are disconnected from the people. They think they are given some higher power to speak for us and when they spout the kind of threats that Reagan does, people began to think he is dangerous to living things.”

“I wouldn't take him that seriously, Clay. He's been on every side of every issue. He is acting like a tough guy. See some of his movies. You'll understand where I'm coming from.”

“Kids who refuse to go over there to die for the glory of old men listen to his words and come to their own conclusions about what they mean. No Vietnamese did anything to us, Harry. Reagan is a voice for the powerful. He's too tough to listen to the people he wants to fight his wars. We need to learn to talk and listen before we start shooting.”

“I doubt he knows anything about the war. He doesn't like kids opposing him. In his generation kids obeyed their elders. Rowdy students creates a bad image for California,” Harry said.

“Ivan is out there and he thinks trouble is coming.”

“There's been talk on the floor of ending the draft, you know? I think it's coming,” Harry said. “I'll support it but it'll come slowly. The war hawks will fight it.”

“What would make them end the draft?”

“Ah, sweet politics! If you can't take the heat, you get out of the kitchen. The draft is the irritant. It's driving the kids into the street. The idea of dying for your country isn't that appealing. Believe me when I say, the Vietnam war may be ending soon, but their figuring out how to avoid this reaction before they start the next war.”

“It takes a considerable effort to grow up, Harry. Dying once you do seems wasteful,” I said, “The other half of this story, there are real people under Nixon's bombs. They may look a little different but they're just people who want to be left alone to live in peace. I'll bet on it. Men who start wars are the enemy. They are murderers, no matter what they call it.”

“I'm sending you to college to educate you, Clay. The draft can't get you. I've seen to that. The members of the local draft board know you're my man in the event all else fails, but don't thank me too fast. Your draft number makes the draft unlikely in your case. I play every angle, leaving nothing to chance.”

“I know that and I appreciate it. If I hadn't had such a high draft number, if you hadn't come along to offer me a career, I'd be with Teddy now. He believes in what he's doing. He'd rather be home but sacrifices must be made to achieve the peace. Most people want peace.”

Harry looked at my face.

The lobster showed up. He didn't tell me what he was thinking.

Things moved too fast for me to figure out what the meaning was. Maybe I'd know more the next time Harry and I talked. I wanted what I said to interest him and not sound like the same tired old complaints about the powerful and the powerless.

Harry had become one of the powerful but I trusted his judgment. I wanted to let him know what was being said in Ivan's end of the world, because he wouldn't hear it in Washington, unless he hung around with the anti war protesters.

*****

On Dylan's first birthday, a half year before we found Millie, I took my son swimming behind the conservancy house. He didn't mind the warm water on his legs but when the water was deeper, he was fine as long as I held him close.

After a few minutes an unexpected swell came along, washing over my shoulder and Dylan. This upset him. I wiped the water out of his eyes and held him up over my head to get a giggle out of him.

He was fine after that. By the time he met Millie, he could let go of me while in the water, dog paddle, and he liked to float on his back, which I didn't teach him to do. He discovered floating on his own. As long as he could see his daddy, Dylan was fine.

My son never feared the water. He lived on a beach. Mama lived on a beach. She never went near the water. Seated in her beach chair with an outrageous broad brim hat on her head and big Marilyn Monroe sunglasses on her eyes, Mama watched her grandson and me whenever we went into the water, unless she was too busy in the kitchen and didn't see us slip out to go swimming.

I slipped out that first time and introduced my son to the Gulf I loved. On July 17th, the water was as warm as his bath water. Mama wasn't going to transfer her fear of the water to Dylan.

*****

When Dylan was able to walk with less wobble by early 1971, I took him with me when I walked to Ivan's to check on his house. At first I carried him most of the way, but as time went on, he wanted to explore this entirely new universe he'd discovered beyond the conservancy house.

Dylan had a weird lateral motion, going from the treeline, where he'd pick up a coconut and try to carry it back to me. Tripping over said coconut as he saw the finish line coming close. He'd lie on his back crying, until daddy picked him up.

In a minute he wanted down again. He'd go for the water, running into the small ripples up to his ankles, making a sudden stop. He'd look at his feet for a minute and run back to me. Then it was off to retrieve another coconut. I wondered if his memory hadn’t fully developed yet. He kept repeating this pattern.

The first time I took Dylan over to the river's edge, he was more mobile and didn't need to be carried as much. Once he saw the water, he took off. I ran after him, grabbing his diaper as he was ready to wade into the water.

I remembered the swift currents at the mouth of the river. We were both startled, my heart was already pounding, when I stared at the shadow in the water. Something was looking back. Dylan got down on all fours when he saw it too. He wanted a closer look.

He came face to face with his first sea creature. He didn't react at all like I would expect.

As he looked in, I realized a manatee was looking out. Neither moved. It was pure fascination. The two faces were a foot apart. I kept a grip on Dylan's diaper. I looked at the submerged face.

'Was it Millie?'

I hadn't seen Millie the Manatee since I was seventeen. I would get out of bed while Ivan slept. It's when I'd go to the river to spend time with the curious manatee. Ivan didn't share my affection for Millie or believe we communicated.

Ivan was my best friend but Millie was my first Florida friend. Before i knew anyone Millie kept me company when I was barely fourteen. I'd been uprooted from Tulsa and replanted onto a beach on the Gulf of Mexico. Millie helped me to understand where I was.

I extended my hand into the water. The manatee backed away by an extra foot. She was now focused on the hand in the water. It was like she was thinking. She'd known someone who once did that.

I checked her back and there was the propeller scar that was on Millie's back. It was Millie.

She didn't leave or show any fear, but then, while checking for that scar, I felt her face against my hand. I took this to be a manatee hug. She recognized me too. The sea creature remembered me. I was filled with feelings of joy. Millie was still alive.

I rested my hand on the side of her face and she allowed this contact. Her bovine eyes were on me. My eyes were on her eyes. We could still communicate.

Dylan watched in little boy wonder. Giggling, he applauded, sort of. Mostly he missed the connection between his hands, but he tried. Pulling him to me, I held my arm around the tiny boy. Millie looked from me to Dylan and back. Did Millie understand?

It was one of those moments when the world is perfect.

We returned to the river a couple of times a week after that. Some days Millie was waiting for us but more often than not she was off doing manatee things. My hope was she'd bring a little manatee with her one day, but she always came alone, and when she did come, I was always with Dylan.

Dylan was fearless. Millie let him touch her after a while. He put his hands on her nose and from time to time he pulled her whiskers. My son could be a pain in the butt but Millie took it in stride, and somehow Dylan never fell into the drink.

I stayed close enough to grab him if he did.

Ivan's house was a reminder of my lover's absence. I waited for him to give up his search and return home to me and our beach. I still believed he'd tire of the search, recognize its futility, and come home to resume the life he left.

*****

Ivan did come home in the early seventies. A few times he stayed a couple of days or more. At other times he came and went during the night.

When I woke up with him in my bed, I didn't know what kind of visit it was, I stayed in the dark about where he'd been and where he was going, because we spent all our time making love after the one sabbatical we took from love making in 1969.

Ivan was there when I turned twenty-one. He hadn't said he would be but I knew he would. It wasn't a stay of any duration, even if we spent the night making love, proving I was a man.

There was no doubt in my mind Ivan had always been one.

At Christmas that year Dylan was in his highchair for meals when Ivan came to eat at our table. He was a big hit with everyone and Dylan didn't miss this. He'd stared at Ivan before but there was no sign he recognized him from an earlier visit.

At twenty-two I got the ultimate birthday visit. Ivan came during the night on my birthday and we made love until dawn. Mama helped us celebrate with sausage, eggs, and hot cakes before I had to drag myself to work to finish doing some work on the newly found specimens I was still researching. If I waited I'd forget something. Ivan went with me to the lab.

At noon we decided to go diving. We went out a ways, used up all the air in our tanks on a pleasant dive, and then we made love in the bottom of the Seaswirl until my ass was so sunburned I couldn't sit on it without squirming.

I squirmed as we made our way back to the cove.

Love was great but I took a beating when Ivan did come home to stay a few days. If we weren't going at each other we were trying to get away to have a go at each other. The shower was no exception.

I was invited to dinner at Harry's on my birthday that year. Of course I took Ivan along. Nothing Harry and I talked about was top secret and Harry asked about Ivan all the time.

I was curious about what they might say to each other.

*****

We had New York strip steaks, asparagus, baked potatoes, and a salad. The man knew how to eat.

“Clay's been telling me you're knee deep in the anti war movement,” Harry said with no particular idea in mind.

“Yes, I find the people refreshing. They have access to some interesting information.”

“Such as?” Harry asked.

“I received information on the battle where Boris went MIA. A list of men who were in my brother's unit. A map of the area.”

“That's not information you should have,” Harry said with concern in his voice. “Where do anti war people get sensitive military information.”

“I met with a captain on a park bench. I put in my order. He delivered the names and the map a week later,” Ivan said.

“Where was this?” Harry asked.

“I'd rather not say. You are the establishment. I can say that the movement has sympathetic people inside the military.”

“You do know you're playing with fire, Ivan.” Harry said.

“This is America, congressman. Home of the free. We enjoy free speech and all. We have the right to protest when our country is slaughtering innocent people who are no threat to America. There has to be a name for that.”

“That's the harshest possible view of what's going on.”

“The truth is harsh when you're murdering a generation of Vietnamese.”

“I'm not fond of the war but the men involved are honorable men,” Harry said.

“I'm sure, and why is the FBI following Lennon, congressman?” Ivan asked, shooting straight over my head.

“Who?”

“John Lennon.”

“He's playing with some dangerous people. The FBI keeps an eye on dangerous people,” Harry said, sipping his bourbon and branch water.

“Which friends are those? He's a Beatle singing about love and he does mention giving peace a chance. I'm sure politicians see that as subversive, but a lot of parents of dead soldiers might have liked peace to have been given a chance. Politicians may have other ideas.”

“Singing isn't the problem, Ivan. Jerry Rubin, Abby Hoffman, and Bobby Seale are problems,” Harry said. “They're hard core political operatives.”

“Wait! Hold up a minute,” I said. “The Beatle, John Lennon, is being watched by the FBI? Why?”

“Yeah, the Beatle. He lives in New York City. Nixon is trying to have him deported as undesirable. Lennon has been holding anti war concerts and Nixon doesn't like it. Lennon isn't a citizen of the U.S.”

“Love, love, love, John Lennon?” I asked. “Give Peace A Chance John Lennon. Why would a man dropping bombs all over Southeast Asia have to fear from a singer?” I asked. “They're the Masters of War. He's a Beatle. They fear him? Who are those guys?”

“Men who deal in death are threatened by the idea of love and peace,” Ivan said. “A message like that could catch on. What if Americans stopped seeing the Vietnamese as slopes and gooks and began to see them as... well... maybe as people. How do the Masters of War sell all you need is death in that atmosphere?”

“I don't see this conversation as breaking any new ground. I don't like war any more than you boys. It's our reality at present. I'm afraid a large number of people who have control in this country deal in death. We aren't going to change that.”

“The FBI shouldn't be following John Lennon,” I said.

“There is no money in peace, Clay. No power in loving your fellow man,” Ivan said. “The FBI works for the Masters of War.”

“The way you've been squirming, Clayton, I thought you put Ivan up to this to get my goat. I can't remember the last time we sat down to talk. You OK?”

“Oh, that. I got a little sunburned while diving today,” I said bashfully.

“You've been diving for five years and you found a way to get sunburned doing it? I guess I've never done it that way,” Harry said.

Ivan laughed.

“Sorry about your goat, congressman. It wasn't my intention to be a drag on the celebration. I don't ever get to talk to the people who run the show. I get carried away with things that concern me, and I realize you're interested in making peace with our environment and not this war.”

Harry looked at Ivan and then he looked at me.

“You two take the cake. All I can say to you, Ivan, is the company Lennon is keeping is not good company to keep in times of war. The powers that be still think they can win this thing. I work up there. I hear the scuttlebutt. I agree with little of it but I'm a little cog in a massive machine. I like hearing what you have to say and I want you to keep me informed. If I can do something to expedite the end of the Vietnam War, I'll be on it. Just keep that in mind as you travel.”

“Best watch your step, congressman. Men like John Mitchell shouldn't be running the justice department. The justice apartment should be putting handcuffs on him for having his secret police bird dogging a good man like John Lennon. It could backfire on the establishment. They have everything under control right now, but people do wake up and smell the coffee from time to time.”

“I shall keep it in mind,” Harry replied.

“They're pulling out troops,” I said. “What the hell is going on?”

“Don't be distracted by shiny objects. They've dropped more bombs on Southeast Asia than were dropped on Japan and Germany during all of WWII. They intend to win this war, Clayton,” Harry said.

“They kick Lennon out of the country, congressman, and you haven't seen a protest march yet. The kids will fill the streets of D.C. so no one can move in that city. They clog the wheels of government.”

Harry looked at Ivan thorughtfully but he had no answer.

I squirmed and wanted to scratch my ass but didn't.

Happy birthday!

*****

By Christmas of 1972 Dylan was sitting on two phone books that were put on one of the chairs at the table beside me. I dished up a little of each item he wanted and cut it small enough for him to eat.

Ivan came to stay three days, while the guys he wanted to talk to were with their families. We'd become Ivan's family, when he wanted one. No one went away from Mama's table hungry.

Ivan sat next to me which put him across from Dylan. As Dylan ate he stared. This time I was sure he remembered Ivan but he didn't say so. He didn't say much of anything in front of Ivan.

Dylan could talk a blue streak, when he the mood struck him, but he said little in front of Ivan. We had few visitors to our table in those days.

Ivan bought Dylan a fire truck in Fort Myers for Christmas. We stopped at the shop in Fort Myers where I got his boots, but Breeze and Penny Wise were gone. Hawkeye still in the back working with leather. I introduced them and I told Ivan Hawkeye made his boots.

Even while in the middle of working, Hawkeye came to talk. He wanted to know how well the boots wore. Ivan said he wore them when he was on the road. He'd left them out west.

Ivan was heading west again before New Years. We had a good visit.

Ivan was about to break with the anti war movement to go to Southeast Asia. He didn't tell me because it was Christmas. He didn't tell me because he didn't want me to worry as !973 approached.

*****

Dylan asked me once, as I was tucking him into bed, “Doesn't that man have a place to eat?”

“Yes, but he likes Mama's cooking,” I said.

“Me too,” Dylan said satisfied.

Ivan had questions about Dylan too.

“Doesn't that kid know where he sleeps?” Ivan asked, about the fourth or fifth time he took Dylan out of my bed, carrying him to his own bed.

“He sleeps where he wants. He gets lonely. He has nightmares. Some nights we fall asleep while I read to him. I'm all he's got, Ivan. If being close to me makes him feel more secure, so be it.”

“You're spoiling that kid, Clay. I predict he'll never leave home.”

“I hope I'm spoiling him,” I said. “I try.”

“He's getting big.”

“He's a growing boy. I can't believe how fast he's growing.”

These were the things Ivan said about Dylan when he was home.

*****

During 1972, Lucy started her freshman year at Florida State in Tallahassee. She had decided on law as a career that could make a difference.

With Lucy only home during holidays, I had to hone my handwriting skills. With this eventuality in mind, I'd been working on it for some time. I was able to keep my own notes and do my filing without needing to ask for a secretary. Harry paid me enough to do my job and do it well. By the time Bill certified me, my notes and files were in order and under my control.

Lucy stayed home the summer of 72. She spent time with Mama, Dylan, Pop, and me. I took her to J.K.'s a couple of times and we went out on the Seaswirl once. Lucy loved the water but not being on it. She didn't complain but she didn't want to do it twice, or go giving when I mentioned that as an option.

*****

One thing Dylan spent a lot of time doing that summer with Aunt Lucy, listen to her read to him. I didn't catch on right away. I'd come in and Lucy and Dylan would be in the foyer. Lucy would be reading from a novel I rarely recognized.

I did recognize Browning's verse when I heard it.

One afternoon, when I came in just before dinner, Lucy was reading an expressively elegant poem as Dylan sat mesmerized.

“Who wrote that?” I asked, after she finished the poem.

“That's from Edna St. Vincent Millay.”

“Do you like her poems, Dylan?” I asked, not knowing what to expect.

“I like the way she makes the words sound, Daddy. It makes me feel good.”

“Me too, kiddo.”

As the summer wore on, I'd find Dylan leaning against Lucy as she read Great Expectations. My son sat absolutely motionless. I was amazed that he could follow what I regarded as some pretty involved literature. I didn't know he did follow it but he did listen to it.

There were some children's books but Lucy liked novels and she told me she simply read aloud whatever novel she was reading.

Dylan loved being read to.

I knew that once Lucy left, I'd pick up where she left off. My taste in literature wasn't as well developed as Lucy's, but I figured I could find some children's books that Dylan would sit still for.

*****

The EPA(Environmental Protection Agency) came to pass before I got my degree. Harry became a force in environmental circles. He added his voice to those advocating Clean Water Act.

Nixon's new agency would make sure that rivers like the Cuyahoga in Cleveland would no longer catch fire. Companies located next to rivers to use the water to carry away the garbage, chemicals, and pollution it costs money to clean up.

As I was finishing the final months of school, working toward my degree, Harry was anxious for me to get my feet wet as the conservancy's representative and spokesman in Tallahassee. He was leading the charge in Washington.

Tallahassee wasn't being kept up to date on the latest findings and proposals to keep the Gulf of Mexico a healthy and economically viable as one of Florida's major source of commerce.

Harry told me, “Each day we waste allows polluters to gain a bigger foothold and damage the Gulf's waters and the things in them.”

Now that Harry was making progress, he wanted to double down on the plans he had for me. Harry's star was rising as he appeared beside President Nixon as the president explained the importance of the EPA. He thanked Harry for being an ally in this endeavor.

“America will have clean air and clean water,” Nixon proclaimed, as he signed the Clean Water Act into law.

Who could argue with that? I didn't trust Nixon. He was on our side concerning the environment. I'd support him when I could. My job was to keep the Gulf of Mexico clean and if President Nixon wanted to help me, I wouldn't turn him down.

As laws protecting bodies of water were passed, Florida's economy was becoming more dependent on fishing, water sports, and the growing interest in the Sunshine State by tourists who were snatching up air condition hotel rooms in record numbers by 1971.

Commercial fishing thrived in the 50s and 60s. It was an industry that depended on the Gulf and the Atlantic to keep the fish on the dinner plates of America.

Sports fishing had been a minor economic contributor for decades but as boats became nicer and the interest increased, sports fishing enterprises were opening up businesses in large coastal cities. Anyone who had a few hundred dollars could go on a half day fishing trip out into the Atlantic or the Gulf. For enough money you could fish until your hearts content.

Because the fishing fleet worked out of the cove, no one was allowed to move into those waters with a sports fishing enterprise. Tourist avoided small coastal areas with limited resources in the way of creature comforts as the 70s began.

*****

As 1972 was coming to an end at an astronomical pace, Harry was up for reelection again. I was entertaining marine biologists from far and wide in my lab, and Dylan was growing like a weed.

Our reading wasn't going as well as I might have expected.