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Authors: Douglas Carlton Abrams
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The pleasure had gone out of it after he learned they were Liza’s whales. And now he knew something was wrong, really wrong, with the calf.
The whaleboat would need to wait on the cay until the men wereready to sail it home. He looked down with pride at the planks of hand-hewn spruce and the ribs of white cedar. His father had made the boat, using only the horizon as a level. The boat had withstood much, even being dragged down to the depths by a bull whale. Teo’s foot had gotten caught in the rope, and if it hadn’t been for his filleting knife, he surely would have drowned.
Teo saw something shiny sticking out from under one of the wooden boards and reached for it. It was Liza’s tape recorder. She had jumped into one of the motorboats and rushed to the ferry. It wasn’t like Liza to forget her equipment, but she didn’t seem herself after the hunt.
He rewound the tape and heard the sounds of the cow just before her end. On the slab, all that remained of her carcass was the spine and rib bones, stripped of meat and blubber. Next to his foot, a chunk of blubber had fallen out of one of the wooden tubs being carried to the coppers. The white cube was almost completely covered with tiny black ants trying to make sense of their prize.
EIGHT
1:00 P.M.
Next day
Monday
Davis, California
A NTS HAD DISCOVERED the half bag of sugar. Elizabeth pulled it out with two fingers and threw it in the garbage with a shudder. The baking shelf was empty except for a box of birthday candles and an unopened bag of flour, both of which she set on the counter.
Elizabeth’s eyes were so tired she had a hard time keeping them open. Her attempt to save Sliver and her calf had caused her to miss the early ferry. The later ferry had gotten her to St. Vincent in time to talk her way onto another flight to Barbados and then from Barbados to Miami, but there were no more flights from Miami that night. She had to spend the five overnight hours in the airport, waiting for the first departure. A screaming baby had prevented her from sleeping on the plane and turned her exhaustion into near delirium.
Frank had not received her message. His old cell phone had probably run out of charge, as it often did. He was not wearing his pager, and when Elizabeth finally spoke to Dorothy, she told Elizabeth that Frank had gone to the airport to get her.
Elizabeth looked at the beautiful bouquet of red roses on the round butcher-block table. She felt a wave of guilt, imagining him waiting at the airport. Red roses were the choice of the unrequited or the uncertain. Ordinarily, Frank bought her simple field flowers, herfavorite. There was a note scribbled in his nearly indecipherable doctor scrawl. Sorry I missed you at the airport. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. Was she imagining resignation and hopelessness in the note?
She wanted to be awake for tonight. A nap would have been a good idea, but there was Frank’s birthday cake to make, and she needed to check the WhaleNet discussion board. She had to know if anyone else had heard the song changes, and she wanted to post her audio files as soon as possible. What she had discovered would shock her colleagues, but if others could corroborate her findings, she would be part of one of the most significant discoveries in marine biology of the last decade or more.
Elizabeth found the recipe box that her mother-in-law had given her as an engagement present. Inside were all the recipes that Frank’s mother had cooked for him as he was growing up, arranged alphabetically. The name of each dish was written in proud Italian capitals. Her mother-in-law rightly assumed that without an ounce of Sicilian blood, Elizabeth would know nothing about CANNOLI CON RICOTTA or PASTA CON LA SARDA or SPEDINI. She flipped through the stiff white cards, feeling another, even greater wave of guilt. Frank’s parents owned an Italian restaurant in Waterbury, Connecticut, and she knew that for his family, love and food were
The whaleboat would need to wait on the cay until the men wereready to sail it home. He looked down with pride at the planks of hand-hewn spruce and the ribs of white cedar. His father had made the boat, using only the horizon as a level. The boat had withstood much, even being dragged down to the depths by a bull whale. Teo’s foot had gotten caught in the rope, and if it hadn’t been for his filleting knife, he surely would have drowned.
Teo saw something shiny sticking out from under one of the wooden boards and reached for it. It was Liza’s tape recorder. She had jumped into one of the motorboats and rushed to the ferry. It wasn’t like Liza to forget her equipment, but she didn’t seem herself after the hunt.
He rewound the tape and heard the sounds of the cow just before her end. On the slab, all that remained of her carcass was the spine and rib bones, stripped of meat and blubber. Next to his foot, a chunk of blubber had fallen out of one of the wooden tubs being carried to the coppers. The white cube was almost completely covered with tiny black ants trying to make sense of their prize.
EIGHT
1:00 P.M.
Next day
Monday
Davis, California
A NTS HAD DISCOVERED the half bag of sugar. Elizabeth pulled it out with two fingers and threw it in the garbage with a shudder. The baking shelf was empty except for a box of birthday candles and an unopened bag of flour, both of which she set on the counter.
Elizabeth’s eyes were so tired she had a hard time keeping them open. Her attempt to save Sliver and her calf had caused her to miss the early ferry. The later ferry had gotten her to St. Vincent in time to talk her way onto another flight to Barbados and then from Barbados to Miami, but there were no more flights from Miami that night. She had to spend the five overnight hours in the airport, waiting for the first departure. A screaming baby had prevented her from sleeping on the plane and turned her exhaustion into near delirium.
Frank had not received her message. His old cell phone had probably run out of charge, as it often did. He was not wearing his pager, and when Elizabeth finally spoke to Dorothy, she told Elizabeth that Frank had gone to the airport to get her.
Elizabeth looked at the beautiful bouquet of red roses on the round butcher-block table. She felt a wave of guilt, imagining him waiting at the airport. Red roses were the choice of the unrequited or the uncertain. Ordinarily, Frank bought her simple field flowers, herfavorite. There was a note scribbled in his nearly indecipherable doctor scrawl. Sorry I missed you at the airport. Looking forward to seeing you tonight. Was she imagining resignation and hopelessness in the note?
She wanted to be awake for tonight. A nap would have been a good idea, but there was Frank’s birthday cake to make, and she needed to check the WhaleNet discussion board. She had to know if anyone else had heard the song changes, and she wanted to post her audio files as soon as possible. What she had discovered would shock her colleagues, but if others could corroborate her findings, she would be part of one of the most significant discoveries in marine biology of the last decade or more.
Elizabeth found the recipe box that her mother-in-law had given her as an engagement present. Inside were all the recipes that Frank’s mother had cooked for him as he was growing up, arranged alphabetically. The name of each dish was written in proud Italian capitals. Her mother-in-law rightly assumed that without an ounce of Sicilian blood, Elizabeth would know nothing about CANNOLI CON RICOTTA or PASTA CON LA SARDA or SPEDINI. She flipped through the stiff white cards, feeling another, even greater wave of guilt. Frank’s parents owned an Italian restaurant in Waterbury, Connecticut, and she knew that for his family, love and food were
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