Read Online Linked by Heather Bowhay - Free Book Online

the
dorsal fin. Since no two killer whales have the same patch, it’s like a
fingerprint.”
    “That’s
awesome,” I said. “How did you know they’d be here?”
    “I
didn’t. But I’d heard there’d been several sightings out here in the last week.
Plus, they tend to favor the waters here on the west side of San Juan Island
because of the salmon runs.”
    Watching
with pure delight, I counted at least 13 orcas swimming together, breaking the
surface and exposing their unique dorsal fins. As water sprayed from their blow
holes, loud bursts of air broke the silence, and a couple of them started
slapping their tails.
    “They’re
playing,” Jason said and pointed. “See how they’re coming vertically out of the
water and staying above the surface?”
    “Yeah,
like they’re treading water.”
    “Mmm
hmm, that’s called spyhopping. Sometimes you’ll see one get almost half of its
body above the water.”
    One of
the whales emerged slowly, the dark waters running over its smooth body. With a
gentle exhale, the orca blew a fine mist that drifted through the air. “I wish
we could hear them talking,” I sighed.
    “Oh,
you don’t ask for much do you?” Jason narrowed his eyes and looked at me, but
he was smiling. “In order to impress you, sounds like I’ll need to spend my
next couple paychecks on a fancy hi-tech hydrophone so that next time we can
listen to the whales singing.”
    I
erupted with laughter and punched him in the arm. “Yeah, get on that will ya?”
    Several
“Oooohs” and “Ahhhhs” drifted across the water from thrilled spectators, as one
whale shot out of the water in a full breach. The mammals put on quite a show.
I don’t know how long we watched them, but I know I was mesmerized the entire
time. I was disappointed when they finally started swimming south and we had to
head back to the Retreat.
    For
dinner Jason made stuffed chicken breasts with basil, mozzarella cheese, and a
spicy, red sauce, which we ate over rice. In the evening we talked and played
the board game Ticket to Ride , and then went to bed fairly early.
    Thursday
afternoon I found myself being humiliated in a game of pool as I knocked solid
balls into pockets when I was supposed to be taking out the striped ones. Jason
laughed heartily, enjoying my every mistake. Ultimately, he raised his cue
stick in the air and reveled in victory. What’s worse, he’d already beaten me
soundly right before that in ping-pong on the top of the line Kettler table. I
hadn’t seen this side of him and found his competitive nature amusing, but his
hotshot, show-off celebrations were starting to grate on my nerves.
    The
game room was bright and airy with plenty of light pouring in through the
arched windows. Sage green, textured walls and cream colored Berber carpet gave
the room a comfortable feel, but an eclectic assortment of light fixtures made
it fun. Hours could be spent in there without ever running out of things to do.
In addition to the games we’d played, there were also dart boards, old pin ball
machines, a shuffleboard table, two air hockey tables, a gaming table for
poker, a roulette wheel, and a big juke box over in one corner, which was
playing the old Beatle’s song, I Wanna Hold Your Hand.
    He
smiled brightly as we stepped over to the foosball table. I arched one eyebrow
and grimaced, but that was all an act. What he didn’t know was that I loved
foosball, and I was a master. Having grown up with a table, I’d had years to
perfect my game. My brothers would play on my team but hated playing against me
one on one. I smiled back weakly, trying to look more resigned than delighted.
Finally, I had an advantage and I planned on using it. I was bad! Sneaky bad! I
let him score a couple points before I started slamming in goals with
incredible speed and force. Minutes later, I was leading eight to three. He
shot me an evil eye, but I just held up my index finger and flaunted my
superiority.
    With
as straight a face as I