The Gulf of Love

Chapter 19

Sassy in Tallahassee

Before I drove Lucy to Florida State for her freshman year of college, I made a stop by the book store. I brought home all the Dr. Seuss they had, five books.

“Are these for you or Dylan?” Lucy asked.

“What's that crack mean?” I asked, thinking my conference with the woman behind the counter covered reading to a three year old.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, sensing this was a sensitive topic a daddy wanted to handle.

It took time for me to catch on at twenty-two. I hadn't been a father before, although I did read to Dylan at times. I decided to read to him at bedtime. It would soothe him and he'd go right to sleep. He'd been sleeping through the night most nights for a while. Reading books geared to his age group would be new for both of us. I'd never read Dr. Seuss as a boy and I was glad to be having the experience with my son.

I liked The Cat in the Hat right off the bat. I was certain Dylan liked it to. He sat and listened as I read and when I tucked him in, he was usually half asleep and he dropped right off to sleep.

By October Dylan had begun to squirm and wiggle his way through my readings. What had begun with hope and enthusiasm had turned to a struggle to keep a three year old under control.

I enjoyed Dr. Seuss. He was no Elizabeth Barrett Browning but he made me smile.

I persisted because I didn't know what else to do. Lucy would be home at Thanksgiving and I'd ask her advice. Maybe a little boy likes a female's voice better than a male's.

I thought about how Dylan watched Ivan. He could talk plenty. He didn't speak in front of Ivan. He stared. The thought came to mind that Dylan might be slow for his age. Maybe he needed to be exposed to life beyond the conservancy house.

I wondered if maybe Dylan wasn't as smart as I always thought he was.

I didn't discuss it with Mama. She'd have only worried. Pop was too busy to worry with my worries. I'd talk to Lucy and see what she had to say about it.

In the meantime I continued reading Dr. Seuss. I hadn't read them all for a second time. The squirming and wiggling continued.

I didn't know why. Did he have trouble paying attention?

When I began The Cat in the Hat the third time, I was in for a surprise.

Dylan began reciting the rhyme, saying each word just before I said it. I continued reading to see what he'd do. He climbed, squirmed, and recited The Cat in the Hat. He knew every word. I went to the next book, and as he climbed and wiggled all over me, he recited the second book word for word.

I didn't need Lucy's advice. I needed more interesting books. By Christmas I replaced Dr. Seuss with the Hardy Boys. As soon as I began reading the first Joe and Frank Hardy adventure, Dylan was tucked up beside me, waiting for the words.

Dylan wasn't slow and he didn't have trouble paying attention. The same couldn't be said of his Daddy.

*****

Until the beginning of fall semester at Florida State in 1973, my pronouncements remained local. Marine biologists came to my lab to meet me and confer on what we were finding in the water. They were mostly there to check out the new marine biologist on the block and see if I'd found the water yet.

It was the name Bill Payne linked with Clayton Olson's name that gave me more gravitas than I'd earned, and it turned out the marine biologists weren't the only ones interested in what I had to say for myself. The conservancy's biology laboratory was on the cutting edge on studying the Gulf and offering solutions to keep it in good health.

Once I passed muster and took the visiting biologists through my findings and my extensive collection of specimens, they shared their opinions with me.

The locations were different but our findings were similar, no matter the body of water. Having an in depth discussion of the subject might keep us engaged for hours.

Some marine biologists, like me, were in their twenties. We were the new breed, 'Bill Payne's boys.' The most respected scientists were middle aged and older. They looked skeptically at me through bifocals, doubting my limited years added up to an opinion they wanted to hear. My excitement over the things I'd seen was a deterrent to educated men.

Taking the word of a fresh pair of eyes wasn't their style. The elders in my field didn't dive. They sent assistants out to use the SCUBA gear and report back what they observed.

Most assistants weren't trained as marine biologists. They lacked the critical skills that gave them insights into the more minute aspects of the underwater world they visited.

Taking back partially developed facts to marine biologists benefited no one. It ended with educated men working with incomplete facts.

Bill Payne's boys were eyes on and hands on. We were coming.

None of the older marine biologists came to the conservancy but the young guns came to my lab to compare notes. I was the Gulf of Mexico specialist and the next generation of scientists wanted to know what that meant. Some stayed to go diving with me and others were content to talk and look over my files.

Bill was the end all and be all in our field. If he sent you to meet someone, you went, establishing bonds with men who were trained in the science of saving today's waterways. It wasn't work for any of us. It was our calling. It was our occupation and preoccupation.

Seeing us in SCUBA gear with our waterproof Nikons got a lot of laughs when we went to scientific gatherings at first. As with all sciences, voices of reason began to listen and learn the science of underwater biological investigation, putting the marine in marine biology.

At first we told our stories to each other. It was a less intense version of being grilled by Bill. It was the same information being exchanged and discussed. We learned to tell our stories while learning our stories were essential to the survival of a healthy environment.

Talking to other marine biologists made me feel more like one. There was a lot we didn't know but we were learning and teaching at the same time. When I was the youngest one in the bunch, I mostly listened, but as time went on, I found my voice.

Being Harry's boy, I met with local business groups who were concerned with the health of the Gulf as related to tourism and pleasure activities. I got invitations from as far as Fort Myers and even one from a ladies group in Clearwater.

These were meetings with Harry's donors and fellow businessman. They didn't want to know the nuts and bolts of marine biology, but they did want reassurance that the water was clean.

Harry was making sure I was getting my feet wet. Once Bill certified me, I'd be one of the main cogs in Harry's reelection campaigns. The conservancy and its marine biologist was what it was all about for Harry.

Until 1973 I didn't need to travel out of my comfort zone to speak. No matter where I went, it didn't change what I had to say and by that time my story was second nature.

Everyone who knew Harry, knew that I came from the conservancy. No one questioned my credentials between the time when Bill certified me and when I got my degree, because they knew who I worked for and they wanted to hear what I had to say about the work I was doing.

*****

After being certified by Bill Payne in 1972, I still had three semesters of academic credits to earn before I got my degree. On local fronts, being Harry’s boy, and having Bill's seal of approval, meant I was as qualified as anyone most businessmen were going to talk to on the subject of the Gulf.

The local nature of my dissertations was consistent by 1972 and throughout 1973. This was the time frame in which Bill Payne certified me as a marine biologist and when my academic credits added up to a degree.

This had been the plan all along. The main portion of my degree would come first. Bill deliberately spent far more time with me than he did with the other students he was instructing.

That's not to say the instructions stopped after he certified me but once I was certified our time together was less structured.

I'd fallen behind in my academic credits in the spring of 1969. That meant I'd have enough credits for my degree in December of 1973 instead of in June. Other than that I was on schedule.

It was with these facts in hand, I took Lucy to Florida State in Tallahassee for the beginning of her sophomore year. Harry arranged for me to appear before Florida's state environmental committee since they were meeting the same day.

This would be a different kind of exposure than I was accustomed to but one that would prepare me for an appearance in front of Harry's committee in Washington D.C. We both agreed that going to Tallahassee would be good preparation.

Harry had seen to it that I got my feet wet the year before, during his reelection campaign. He was sure that I'd have no difficulty testifying about what I was seeing in the Gulf of Mexico. It was a story I told frequently to different audiences.

As confident as I was with telling my story, the idea of going to Tallahassee made me nervous. I'd seen enough hearings to know legislators had a habit of going off the tracks and complicating simple issues. They had points they wanted to make no matter the topic. They were politicians after all and not my favorite species, even if Harry was one.

What could go wrong?

I was prepared. I knew the facts. I knew how to present them in a cogent manner.

The first time you do something, it never goes the way you see it going. I'd been trained to tell a story and it didn't really matter who I told it to. The story was the story. The facts did not change, but politicians didn't always follow the facts well.

My sister Lucy boosted my confidence when she agreed to go with me. She knew almost as much as I did about my notes and the story they told. She'd heard me present my case a half dozen times during Harry's campaign the year before. If I faltered Lucy was going to be at my side to whisper advice.

Lucy had grown into a beautiful young woman. She was poised, self-confident, and one of the smartest people I knew. She'd make me look good and I was ready for whatever they threw at me. Studying to be a lawyer, she talked the same language as politicians.

*****

It was a five hour drive and we were scheduled to be in front of the committee at eleven. I had directions to the chairman of the committee's office. Once there, I decided to decline an offer of coffee.

I wasn't getting in front of those people and need to pee.

They ignored Lucy. No coffee for her. I was the only one listed to appear. I told them Lucy was my aid.

They said my testimony would last no more than an hour.

“The legislators don't like being late for lunch. They go at noon.”

I didn't like missing lunch either but I wasn't running Florida.

We were escorted into the committee chamber. I eyed the pitcher of water. I decided against it. Lucy sat beside me. We'd go to lunch after I finished testifying.

“So far so good,” she said.

People began coming in right away. The room was more than three quarters filled by the time the chairman got things rolling.

Lucy leaned to say, “They're all old dudes.”

“Lucy!” I said, eyeballing the microphone in front of me.

“I checked. It's off,” she said, seeing my concern. “I don't even think mine's real. Just a prop.”

It was more like being surrounded. The long desk where the legislators sat wrapped around the table where we sat.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen. I'm Chairman Stillson. This is a meeting of the environmental committee. We'll be speaking with the marine biologist, Mr. Clayton Olson of the Sanibel Island Conservancy. Good morning Mr. Olson. Thanks for appearing before us today.”

“Morning,” I said, leaning into the microphone and creating a feedback that got the legislators scowling right off the bat.

There was a titter from the gallery of maybe fifty people, not including the ten legislators and Chairman Stillson, who stayed silent. I wasn't expecting an audience.

My knees were already shaking. I hoped they were hungry.

Chairman Stillson began, “Mr. Olson, this is an informal fact finding hearing and we are here to listen to what you have to say about the condition of the Gulf of Mexico. I see you've had a considerable amount of training with that body of water at the center of your education.”

All eyes were on me now.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “That would be accurate.”

“You are the marine biologist with the Sanibel Island Conservancy? You'd describe the condition of the Gulf of Mexico as...?”

He started off with an easy one and I jumped right on it.

“Fair to good,” I said. “That's comparative considering the six years I've been diving in that body of water.”

“I see here, you're a certified marine biologist. When were you certified?”

“I was certified by Bill Payne in May of 1972 after I finished his four year program. I began with Mr. Payne in 1968. We still consult and share information. He's the best marine biologist and environmentalist in Florida today.”

“Yes, we know Mr. Payne,” Chairman Stillson said.

“I'm sure he appreciates your endorsement. You must have started his program at an early age, Mr. Olson,” a man named Schmidt offered.

“I was seventeen,” I said. “I worked on the Gulf as a fisherman for several years before I began at the conservancy and entered Bill Payne's program.”

“That's a lot of experience for someone your age. You were a fisherman at fifteen?” Chairman Stillson asked. “That's impressive. You must be an ambitious young man.”

“It was good experience for someone going into marine biology. I was fortunate enough to live next to a fisherman. I was friends with his son. We started helping his father on his fishing boat when we turned fifteen. We were on the Gulf three days a week back then.”

“Did that have anything to do with your becoming a marine biologist?” Mr. Watson asked. “I'm impressed. You aren't very old.”

“Yes, I became fascinated by things coming out of the fishing nets,” I said. “When I was asked to consider marine biology as a career, I didn't need to think about it. It was the perfect profession for me.”

“Asked by who?” Schmidt asked.

“Harry McCallister. It's his conservancy. I run the biology lab for him. He heard about me from my father and Mr. Aleksa, the captain of the fishing boat I worked on. Harry wanted me to train as a marine biologist and run the biology lab at the conservancy. I said, 'Yes.'”

“You mean Congressman Harry McCallister?” Chairman Stillson asked in an official voice.

“Yes, sir. I knew Harry before he was elected to congress,” I said. “I've always called him Harry. He told me that shouldn't change.”

“He's Harry's boy,” Mr. Thomas offered as he smiled and looked at his fellow legislators. “I don't need to know any more than that. If Harry sent him to us, he knows his stuff.”

The legislators were amused by this comment. The truth was out. This was easy. These guys weren't so bad. I wasn't going to need Lucy to bail me out.

“Where did you get your degree?” Schmidt asked in a sudden change of direction.

“Ops!” I said. “I'll get my degree in December 1973. I take classes in Fort Myers. I have my certification but not my degree.”

“It's September 1973?” Watson said in an astute observation.

“That's correct,” I said.

It sounded like a question to me.

The gallery laughed. Watson's face changed colors. I'm sure mine did too. I didn't think it was all that funny.

The chairman banged his gavel lightly to get us back on track.

*****

My first appearance in front of Florida's environmental committee started out well. For politicians the members of the committee seemed fairly reasonable fellows, but it didn't take long for us to hit a snag, which moved me off the environment and onto my education.

“You don't have a degree in marine biology but you call yourself a marine biologist?” Bowyer asked, leaning into his microphone but not getting any feedback.

“I'm certified as a marine biologist. The degree includes academic credits, which I'm behind on because of personal issues in 1969. I'm four and a half years into a five year degree. I'll get my degree this December.”

That explained it.

“What courses do you lack?” Chairman Stillson asked.

“English and I”m taking psychology to get the credits I need. I'm also taking a class on government.”

“Psychology? You going to psychoanalyze the fish?” Schmidt asked, amused with himself and laughing too loud.

The gallery laughed again. The gavel banged impatiently as Chairman Stillson glared at Schmidt.

“Order!” Chairman Stillson ordered and the laughter subsided.

“Why psychology?” Schmidt asked. “I'd like to know.”

“Harry told me I'd be dealing with all kinds of people. He said psychology would help me deal with the more eccentric ones.”

The laughter got louder. The legislators were stone faced. It's what Harry said.

“You got your certification so much earlier than you will get your degree. How is that?” Chairman Stillson inquired. “Since you're here and we're taking your testimony, I'd like to know.”

“Bill... Mr. Payne gave me extra time. He used my lab, the conservancy laboratory. He did a lot of his work there. He conducted classes there. It gave us more time together in learning situations. It was easier to learn one on one. He certified me after four years. I had personal difficulties which forced me to leave school for a semester in the spring of 1969. I had to repeat those classes. I'll have my degree in December this year.”

“Personal difficulties sounds mysterious?” Schmidt questioned. “Do you care to elaborate.”

“Family issues. I couldn't be as far away from home as Fort Myers.”

“What kind of issues?” Schmidt persisted, leaning into the microphone like he thought he was uncovering something.

“The personal kind,” I persisted right back.

Suddenly Lucy was leaning toward the microphone. The legislature would never be the same.

I couldn't get my hand on the microphone fast enough to intercept my sister. I cringed.

“His wife died. He had a new born son to take care of,” Lucy declared in a booming voice. “That kind of personal.”

Maybe bringing Lucy wasn't such a good idea after all.

*****

The gavel sounded even though the room was totally silent.

No one said anything for a minute and Chairmen Stillson looked at his gavel like it banged all on its own.

“I'm certified as a marine biologist by one of the most respected biologists in Florida. I need the English credit to graduate. We're studying literature this semester. While it will expand my knowledge on that subject, it's hardly essential to being a marine biologist. We've already discussed my psychology elective and government should be self explanatory in this venue.”

“But by your own admission, you don't have your degree?” Mr. Watson stated. “I mean if Harry sent you and Bill certified you, I don't need to know any more. It's a technicality but we do have standards.”

“I'll have the credits for my degree in three months. I'll come back then if you like. I do have work to do. I came up here as a favor to Harry. My testimony in December won't change because I ace my English exam and get the credit I need in psychology. The facts concerning the condition of the Gulf of Mexico, what you asked me about, won't change in three months.”

“Why did we call him?” Schmidt asked. “He doesn't have his degree. I mean he should have a degree.”

People in the gallery moaned at Schmidt's inability to move on.

“Lighten up, Barney,” Watson said. “He's Harry's boy. You really want to piss Harry off? He says his testimony won't change in December. Let's save a lot of time and listen while he's here.”

“I don’t care who sent him. He isn't qualified,” Schmidt said. “He's wasting our time. He needs to have a degree to officially be a marine biologist recognized by the state of Florida.”

Another moan was louder than the first. I had fans already.

“Harry sent him. If Bill Payne certified him, that's good enough for me,” Chairman Stillson said. “I want to hear what he has to say. I don't know that a degree is required to give testimony in an informal hearing. I'm sure it isn't. There are a couple of questions I have for you, Mr. Olson. If we can get back on topic. If you don't mind?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, starting to squirm.

“In a word, what is your biggest concern in the Gulf of Mexico today, Mr. Olson?” Chairman Stillson asked. “Right now.”

“Plastic,” I said in a word.

As soon as I said it, I knew who was going to comment.

“Plastic! Plastic!” Schmidt roared. “Give me a break. Call someone who's qualified. Harry's pulling our leg sending this kid. It must be time for lunch recess by now.”

“What about plastic, Mr. Olson?” Stillson asked, “I'd like to hear what he has to say, Barney. Shut up.”

There was applause for the chairman. He almost smiled. He had hit a home run.

“When I made my first dive six years ago, there was no plastic evident in the water. Now, when I dive, I bring up a dozen or more pieces of plastic. In time plastic breaks down into particles. Little fish eat them. Big fish eat little fish. Plastic is now in the food chain. At this time the use of plastic seems to be on the rise. It's alarming to me. There are many sources of pollution but the introduction of plastics is disturbing.”

“Plastic?” Schmidt said. “You can't say that about Florida's fish. I object. Get this guy out of here.”

“Not yet I can't,” I said. “That's what's coming to a fish market near you, Mr. Schmidt. Runoff, common garbage, and chemicals have been problems for years. Plastic is fast becoming one of the worst.”

“How old are you, son?” Schmidt asked, almost growling the question.

I leaned into the microphone so he was certain to hear me.

“Old enough to know plastic when I see it,” I shot back.

He looked confused.

There was laughter and some applause. I tried not to smile.

“How old are you, Mr Olson,” Chairman Stillson asked. “For the record.”

“I'm twenty-three, Mr. Chairman,” I said. “It doesn't matter how old I am. The problems in the Gulf of Mexico are real. If steps aren't taken to slow the sources of pollution, the Gulf will suffer.”

“When did you make your first observations about the conditions in the Gulf?” Chairman Stillson asked.

“I've been on the Gulf or in it on most days since 1965. I've been learning about it for nine years. It's an ongoing education. I won't stop learning when they hand me my degree. I didn't stop learning when Mr. Payne certified me. I'm qualified is what they tell you.”

“Yes, what have you learned about the tooth fairy?” Schmidt said in a mocking voice. “He's wasting our time, Stilly. Gavel an adjournment and let's go to lunch.”

“I'm not up on my fairies. Perhaps you can fill me in on that later,” I said and the audience kept laughing.

The gavel banged for order by the chairman didn't say anything.

“What I can tell you, plastic is becoming a problem. Petroleum products polluting waterways is nothing new,” I said. “We're only beginning to see the results of this kind of pollution. The fact is, we don't need to add new sources of pollution to our waterways. For Florida anything that harms fishing grounds or beaches damages tourism and the economy. We all want to avoid that.”

“This is a news flash?” Schmidt asked.

“It's a warning.”

“Thank you. Now can we go to lunch?” Schmidt quipped.

The audience moaned.

I was annoyed by Schmidt's antics and telling that committee what our work was about made me feel better. Schmidt seemed to be the only one who wasn't listening.

I thought of when I was reading Dr. Seuss to Dylan.

“Order! Order!” Chairman Stillman ordered without much success. The audience began to buzz.

Lucy leaned to whisper in my ear, placing her hand on the microphone so it was private.

“That's the jerk who called me a communist dupe,” Lucy said. “He doesn't know how he scarred me for life.”

I laughed. Schmidt was no match for Lucy's quick wit. I wasn't expecting my sister to get an opportunity to prove it.

“Lucy, do not hurt that man. He's an asshole,” I said, thinking too late to put my hand on the microphone after I began speaking. “But he's a legislator.”

“Excuse me,” Schmidt said, honing in on Lucy. “Whom is the young lady conferring with you, Mr. Olson?”

“Who?” Lucy corrected without hesitation.

“Huh?” Schmidt said.

The audience laughed.

“Whom is the young lady conferring with you would be proper English,” Lucy said succinctly.

“I don't need you to explain the English language to me, madam,” Schmidt objected.

“This is my sister, Lucy. She keeps my notes and she knows almost as much about my work as I do,” I said, trying to distract Schmidt.

“Lucile Olson. Lucille Olson. Young lady where do I know you from?”

“Lucy! Lucy! You don't know me from anywhere, and my name is Lucy Olson,” Lucy shot back.

There was more laughter and more banging of the chairman's gavel.

I cringed. This was not why Harry sent me here.

“Lucille Olson,” Schmidt muttered to himself, searching his memory banks for a connection.

“Is she accredited?” someone asked from the gallery.

Everyone laughed but the legislators. This was no laughing matter.

The gavel banged some more without a serious purpose.

“No, Lucy isn't accredited in anything in particular. I can vouch for her. She's almost always the smartest person in whatever room she happens to be in at any given time,” I said.

Schmidt leaned into his microphone as if he might take a bite. He was studying Lucy and the wheels were turning. He looked fatigued.

“Where do I know that name from?” he asked louder than he intended.

“There's a Lucy in the Peanuts comic strip,” Lucy said. “That's probably what you're thinking about.”

There wasn't any give in Lucy's voice. She remembered Schmidt and he'd insulted her. I hoped he didn't remember her.

“No,” Schmidt mumbled. “That's not it?”

A reporter from the Tallahassee paper began taking pictures of the scene from behind the gallery. He knew who Lucy was. It was obvious he had the answer Schmidt wanted. He also sensed a story.

“Excuse me. Gregor Carmen, Tallahassee Democrat. I believe Lucille Olson closed Madison High School during the Kent State insurrection. That may be what you're trying to remember.”

Schmidt poured the gasoline. The reporter lit the match.

I was certain it was lunch time.

*****

Chapter 20

The War Is Over

My first appearance before the Florida legislature's environmental committee had been overcome by minutia concerning my knowledge on the subject versus the date on my degree.

To complicate our surrender to unimportant details, my sister Lucy, who had come along for moral support and because she knew so much about the workings of my lab, jumped to my defense in an attempt to distract the legislator who persisted in his desire to know a history I wasn't about to give him.

A reporter had taken the floor and revived my sister's past brush with notoriety. That's how the established saw her role in speaking out against her country's propensity for shooting first and asking questions later.

I was never prouder of my sister than the day she closed Madison High School. This, however, wasn't the place I'd stand up and cheer in defense of her first amendment rights.

As with most things, I didn't get to choose when or where Lucy would need to defend her right to protest her government. Had it been me, I wouldn't have made my second stand in front of the Florida Legislature, but Lucy knew where she stood and my sister was a lot less likely to give into a bully than I was.

Committee member Schmidt, having lost interest in me, was focused on Lucy.

“Yes, that's it. You a commie Miss Olson? I bet you're a woman's libber. I object to this woman sitting in front of this committee,” Schmidt barked. “She's a communist. We have standards. Sgt. at Arms, remove this woman from the chamber.”

“At ease, Barney,” Chairman Stillson interjected. “I think I'm the chairman. Back off. This hearing is adjourned,” Stillson said, rapping his gavel and gathering his papers.

He knew when it was time for lunch. It might have worked before the reporter got involved.

“She's a communist, Stilly. She shouldn't be in front of this committee,” Schmidt said. “I want it on the record. Now unadjourn us so the minutes reflect that Barney Schmidt won't tolerate a commie in front of this committee. Lucille's a commie, worse.”

“My name is Lucy Olson. I'm a free thinking American and I'm not afraid to exercise my first amendment rights, sir.”

Hitting him with the Constitution hardly seemed fair. Barney Schmidt was staggered by the force of Lucy's argument, but he wouldn't be denied by reason.

“You are a commie,” Schmidt rebutted.

“Actually, I'm Presbyterian.”

The gallery laughed.

“You deny you were at Madison High in 1970 when the school closed because of the action of a few disruptive students?”

“I was present the day the students walked out of Madison High School. It was hardly my idea and it was hardly the action of a few. We all walked out. We all voted on whether or not to return.”

“Our schools are places for learning, Lucille. How dare you bring disorder into our schools. How dare you question your government. Who do you think you are?”

“When my government starts shooting students, I question that. You'll find students do.”

“Schools aren't democracies. You're there to learn. It's not for someone like you, Lucille, a commie sympathizer, to defy authority.”

“Lucy! I knew when I started going to school, I wouldn't like being shot.”

The gallery laughed and the environmental committee watched like they were center court at Wimbledon.

“You're exaggerating. Commies often do. Only four students were killed at Kent State.”

“In the Soviet Union, where communists abound, it wouldn't surprise me if troops shot protesters. I don't live in the Soviet Union.”

“As someone of your ilk would say,” Schmidt said.

Wasn't it lunch time?

“Which ilk might that be, sir?” Lucy asked politely.

“You know what ilk. The commie ilk. We're the government. We write the rules. You have nothing to say about it. How dare you take your political perversion into our good American schools.”

“Thomas Jefferson might lift an eyebrow over that idea. After considering the source, he'd ignore the remark,” Lucy said.

The gallery laughed.

“Barney, might I remind you that this is the state's environmental committee. Maybe you'd be better served on the foreign relations committee,” Chairman Stillson said, having given up on his gavel.

“We don't have a foreign relations committee,” Schmidt said.

“You noticed. Perhaps we can get on with environmental considerations. We are on a schedule and you're way off base.”

“I want to expose Lucille for what she really is,” Schmidt revealed.

“I'm surprised at you,” Lucy said indignantly. “What kind of gentlemen speaks of exposing a young woman? You should know better.”

The gallery laughed louder at Lucy's fake indignity.

“It's people like her who threaten to destroy the fabric of American life,” Schmidt answered.

“People like her cost us that war. She wanted the commies to win,” a voice in the gallery offered.

The gavel banged and the argument continued over Chairman Stillson’s call for order.

“See, Stilly, the people know which one of us has his finger on the pulse of America. We hate commies and Lucille certainly passes for one.”

“You may remove your finger, sir. The patient has died. He was a student at Kent State. Students everywhere saw him die. They know who killed him and they know it could happen to them if they don't speak up.”

“They were asking for it,” another voice from the gallery said.

“When the government begins shooting students in the name of politics, 'it's time to water the tree of Liberty with the blood of tyrants and patriots,' Tom Jefferson said. The government thinks it's in control, until the people decide differently.”

“Lucille, do you have the Little Red Book next to your bed?”

“Lucy! I was a camp fire girl. I had their handbook once. Will that do?”

The room erupted with laughter. Schmidt turned red and said something that no one heard.

Lucy was suddenly polite and she looked angelic.

“She is a commie,” someone added. “Our boys were dying over there and she danced on their graves.”

The gavel banged.

“That's quite enough,” Chairman Stillson said, rapping his gavel.

“You tell 'em, Stilly,” someone said loudly.

No one was ready to walk away from the debate yet.

“We'll have order,” Chairman Stillson persisted.

The Vietnam War was over but not the battle raging around Chairman Stillson.

“We're adjourned, Stilly. Go to lunch. I'm not done with Lucille,” Schmidt said. “You a dancer, Lucille? You dance on our brave boy's graves?”

“Lucy! That war killed a lot of kids my age, American kids and Vietnamese kids. It needed to be stopped. We stopped it. The Vietnamese run Vietnam now,” Lucy summarized. “It's a better arrangement, don't you think?”

“Do you think those commies can run a country better than Americans?” Schmidt bellowed, looking a bit out of control when he realized his microphone had been turned off.

“It's not a question of better. It's a question of who. The Vietnamese running Vietnam, deciding what's best for them, is how the world is supposed to work.”

“The world works the way we say it works. We're the United States of America,” Schmidt said as if he was leading a parade.

I expected a John Philip Sousa march to begin playing.

“I don't think people dying because other people think it's a good idea is American. We brought our troops home because they didn't belong in Vietnam. Most of us have moved on. We're hoping our leaders can resist the impulse to invade more countries in the future.”

“It was people like you ruined that war for us, Lucille,” Schmidt said. “We'd still be fighting there if it wasn't for people like you.”

“Thank you. I do my best,” Lucy said politely.

There was laughter followed by a small amount of applause.

The applause started in the rear of the chamber and grew louder, until it was loud enough no one could be heard.

The battle for Florida's environmental committee had ended. The legislators all stood to leave, except for one.

Schmidt was talking but couldn't be heard and no one was listening. I was ready to split.

There was a rumble of conversation that followed the applause.

“This committee has been adjourned,” the chairman yelled, standing to prove it. Schmidt was the only one still seated.

Fifty people were on their way out of the chamber. Several made a point of walking past Lucy to shake her hand. My sister was a hit. What was I doing there? I could have just sent Lucy.

I could read the headlines: “Marine Biologist starts riot in Tallahassee.”

I was glad Harry was in Washington.

“Let's get out of here. I think we've done enough damage for one day,” I said.

“I was only answering his inquiries,” Lucy defended.

“Pardon me for not applauding you, Lucy, but I will need to appear here again at some point. They'll forget me in no time. You, however, have left an indelible imprint on the state legislature.”

Lucy smiled as we mingled with the crowd leaving the chamber. There was safety in numbers. Schmidt was still lurking.

What would I say when Harry asked me about my appearance?

I stopped to use the little boys room and Lucy waited outside. When I came out, Lucy was gone. I was sure Schmidt had her arrested and he was searching for a firing squad.

There was a circle of people where I'd left Lucy.

“Ms. Olson, would you sign this?” I heard someone say.

“Sure,” I heard an invisible Lucy say. “Aren't there any young legislators? We need young blood with fresh new ideas if we want the country to prosper.”

Half the people surrounding Lucy raised their hands.

“We're the new guard. It's difficult getting a good committee assignment your first year,” a young man said.

“I'm glad to see younger people are involved?”

“You'd make a good legislator, Lucy,” a young woman said. “When are you going to run?”

“I better finish school first.”

“Keep your options open. We could use more strong women,” a woman said.

“Sure,” Lucy said. “I can do that. I don't see myself as a politician, but I'll go where I think I can do the most good.”

“We'd pay you to move into Schmidt's district to run against him,” a young lady said.

“I wouldn't want to be responsible for the man losing his job,” Lucy said.

Everyone laughed.

“I'm delighted to know there are younger members. I was afraid the entire government was run by old men.”

“Lucy, will you sign this?”

“Sure, but I see my brother. He'll be wanting to leave. Thank you for making me feel welcome in Tallahassee. After facing off with Mr. Schmidt, I was worried about getting out of here alive. Nice meeting you. My brother will be back. I expect you to take good care of him.”

Why did I come?

“Move,” the reporter from the chamber said. “Let me get a picture of Ms. Olson. Smile, Ms. Olson. Your public loves you and your voice has grow louder.”

Lucy hardly looked up when the flash blinded her. There was another flash with her looking directly into the camera.

“I've got to go. My brother is waiting,” Lucy said.

“Bye,” they said in unison.

Times they were a changing.

The younger generation had its own idea about foreign entanglements and the masters of war. We weren't angry with anyone and we felt no obligation to tell other people what kind of government they should have.

*****

Lucy's picture ended up on the front of the inside section of the Tallahassee Democrat the next day. The caption read:

Lucy Closes Legislative Hearing!

Kids at her school showed Lucy the article. She didn't mention it to me. She felt embarrassed for taking the spotlight off me. It was something Lucy wouldn't do but she would take on someone trying to bully me. She was determined to protect her big brother.

Schmidt was roadkill for my little sister.

My sister couldn't pass for a polite young lady who knew her place. She hadn't decided where her place was yet. Where ever it was, Lucy was a star in the making. That was apparent after my appearance before the state's environmental committee.

Thankfully, as with her closing Madison High, Harry was in Washington when I appeared in Tallahassee. When he did come home, the subject didn't come up.

Harry was busy with donors and supporters of the conservancy and I had school, dives, and I was at the conservancy about half the time on work days. Our schedules weren't favorable for an in depth meeting and I was certain I'd dodged a bullet.

Through October Harry was in motion when he wasn't in Washington. Since being certified by Bill Payne, my work for the conservancy involved an increasing amount of public speaking, which kept me out of the lab on many days.

I was now listed on all the official Sanibel Island Conservancy literature as the conservancy's marine biologist. It didn't mention, 'Degree to follow,' but it did and on schedule.

It was one of the technical changes in my status at the conservancy. A big raise came without warning, after Bill Payne signed my certification papers. An additional raise came upon receiving enough academic credits for my degree.

Professionally I had arrived even when nothing changed. I was doing the same work with far less pressure. It was easier to become lost in my underwater world and enjoy every minute of it.

Over the years my curiosity about the Gulf of Mexico had only grown.

*****

It was just before Thanksgiving in 1973 when Harry paged me to come to his office. I didn't know he'd flown in the night before. I never thought about the schedule that had congress taking weeks off over designated holidays when most people got a day or two. So I was never ready when Harry came home a week before and stayed a week after such holidays.

And we really hadn't talked business in months and more likely than not, he'd suggest we go to eat, which was part of his routine right after he got home. He liked talking to me in an informal setting.

We exchanged our usual hello hug and he was all smiles as he sat self-satisfied behind his neat desk. I'd rarely seen him so pleased with himself. He looked relaxed and happy.

I was happy too, until Harry started talking.

“We've never talked about your trip to Tallahassee,” he said with interest in his voice. “I guess you know how busy I've been now that I'm chairman of the environmental committee in Washington? My work in D.C. is in concert with you and the conservancy's goals. I've established many new contacts who are as concerned with the state of the environment as we are, Clayton. We have valuable allies.”

“We seem to be running opposite each other, Harry. When I'm here, you're not. When you're here, I'm not,” I observed.

“We'll be more in sync from now on. There is reelection next year but we'll be traveling together during part of that period. I've planned a series of appearances featuring you as one of the main speakers, so even during reelection we'll be seeing each other.”

“Whatever I can do, Harry,” I said. “You know where I work.”

“So, I've been dying to ask how that hearing went, Clayton? Tell me all about it,” Harry said with enthusiasm in his voice.

I could fudge on the facts if he didn't pin me down.

“I can't say there was much opportunity to sway anyone's thinking, Harry. They aren't very receptive to new ideas or young talent,” I said. “They were hung up on my certification and the date when I'd have my degree.”

“I see you took Lucy,” he said, as if he knew she was at the hearing with me.

Maybe he talked to Pop, but Pop had been out all morning and Harry came in late last night.

“I did,” I said. “How'd you know?”

The section of the paper with Lucy's picture appeared out of Harry's top desk drawer. He held it up for me.

“Your sister has grown into a lovely young woman, don't you think? Nice picture.”

“Yes, she has,” I said, reading the caption over the picture.

“She made quite a hit. You do know I was a member of the state legislature before I ran for Daddy's seat in congress? I gave my seat up the year Daddy got sick. I needed to be educated on the workings of the conservancy and on his estate. It was a full time job. Daddy had his fingers in everything.”

“I don't remember you mentioning that, Harry,” I said.

“Yeah, the people I know couldn't wait to tell me about your visit,” Harry said. “I knew I wanted to talk to you about it but there just hasn't been time to sit down and have a conversation until now.”

“One of the legislators recognized Lucy from when Madison High closed after Kent State,” Harry said, pulling a smaller article about Lucy out of his desk.

Lucy's high school picture was on top of the three paragraphs quoting from her words the day the kids walked out.

“I didn't see the article. Mama sent me to pick Lucy up. I heard what she had to say.”

“The hearing?” Harry asked without a hint about his thoughts.

“I took Lucy for moral support. She reads all my notes. They became hung up on why I was behind on my academics. It was none of their business. Lucy, however, decided to tell them why. You could say she was a tad miffed at the intrusion into my privacy. Lucy's always been protective of me.”

“There was some conversation about her closing Madison?”

“There was an exchange where Schmidt accused Lucy of being a communist. It went down hill from there.”

“Barney Schmidt, champion butt head and certain to get wedged into the gears of government without trying.”

“You know Schmidt?”

“Yes. The article doesn't make him sound like a man who should be holding office. Unfortunately the voters in his district aspire to attain his level of ignorance and keep electing him.”

“Sounds like the guy,” I said.

“I can get a few copies of the paper sent to your house if you like? Your parents would like how Lucy's portrayed,” Harry offered.

“Yes, I'd like to hang this in the lab, if you don't mind” I said. “It's a great picture and a reminder of my first trip to Tallahassee.”

“Yes, but you were sent to Tallahassee to woo the legislators. Get them thinking about protecting the environment,” Harry reminded me.

“Yes, but if you've read the article, you know they weren't interested in hearing from a wonder boy biologist,” I said.

Harry smiled.

“I'll be more impressive after I get my degree apparently. They don't seem to grasp that English and Psychology don't involve the health of the Gulf of Mexico.”

“That wasn't in the article. In fact, you are referred to as 'the boy accompanying Ms. Olson.' I got a copy of the transcript from Stillson. You stayed on point. Not easy with the Florida boys.”

“I got in a few good points before they got sidetracked.”

“I sent you to shake things up. You got your feet wet, Clay. They're state legislators. The members turnover fairly fast. You won't be a rookie next time. The younger members will be more receptive. There had to be a first time. You did fine.”

“So you know those guys. I wasn't impressed, Harry. Stillson sounded intelligent. He asked pertinent questions. The rest seemed satisfied giving me a pass because, 'He's Harry's boy,' and then there was Schmidt. The man gives new meaning to dense.”

“Lucy and you will be on the cutting edge of the future of Florida, Clayton,” Harry said. “Being known is an advantage. The new generation, your generation, is about change and more equality than mine has known,” Harry said.

“There may be some resistance to that idea,” I said.

“As we speak, younger legislators are gaining a foothold in Tallahassee. A new day is coming. You'll be a familiar face when you go back to suggest legislation to solve the problems. You will be an advocate for the Gulf of Mexico. They won't question your credentials again.”

“Once you tell them what's coming, they'll fall in line and pass the laws you tell them must be passed to preserve the Gulf. Florida's economy depends on clean water,” Harry explained.

“It becomes the legislature's responsibility to pass those laws, not tomorrow, today. Heaven help them if Florida's waterways spoil because they failed to act promptly, once you sound the alarm.”

“How do you know they'll be that willing to cooperate?” I asked with skepticism.

“They're legislators. When you tell them what will happen if they don't do their jobs, they'll respond.”

“I don't get that feeling after going there.”

“You'll tell them tourism will suffer and there will be no fish left to catch, they'll listen, Clay, and they'll also take credit for saving the Gulf. We aren't in the credit business. We're in the action business,” Harry said.

“They're legislators. It's a limiting profession. Just remember, when you appear, you know more about the Gulf of Mexico than anyone in the room, unless Bill Payne happens to be with you,” Harry said. “They call you to appear. They need to know what you know.”

“You make it sound easy. I'll need to get used to the idea.”

“Remember, Clay, you are the boss. If you don't like what they have to say, you call a news conference. You tell the press what you told the legislators. Let them know that you control this conversation.”

“I guess I'll grow into that frame of mind,” I said.

“I have no doubt about it. Maybe leave Lucy at home next time. She took the legislators by storm this time. Next time you two might end up peeking out from behind bars. I've seen you talk about your work. You don't need Lucy. You are an inspired speaker.”

“She's the only reason we can find things in the lab, and, oh by the way, she does it for fun in her spare time. Lucy makes me look good, Harry.”

“She's a smart cookie,” Harry agreed. “Maybe I'll need an attorney in D.C. by the time she graduates. I think Lucy would be an asset on my staff. You might float that idea to her. See what she says. I'm ready to talk to her about a future with the conservancy.”

“If you're not careful you'll have all the Olsons but Mama and Dylan working for you,” I said.

“I could do worse,” Harry said. “You spoke up and didn't take any guff off the Florida boys, and I loved your line, 'I'm old enough to know plastic when I see it.' That's a classic, Clay. I chuckle every time I think about it. You're going to be fine. You're fast on your feet.”

We laughed on the way to the Gulf Club, where we talked over lobster. I drank iced tea and Harry drank bourbon and branch water.

*****

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 same night. Never knowing what kind of visit it was, I stayed in the dark about where he'd been and where he was going.

Dylan was in his highchair at the table in 1971. He spent less time eating than examining the face of the interloper across the table on days when Ivan came and stayed a few days.

I don't recall Dylan having much to say to Ivan but his visits were abbreviated affairs and Ivan was gone before Dylan got accustomed to him being around. Ivan and I managed to get off by ourselves most of the time he was at home.

Dylan could talk up a storm by 1972, when the mood struck him. Mostly he watched Ivan and said little in those days. I didn't ask Dylan questions about what he thought of Ivan when he visited, but my son usually spoke up if there was something on his mind.

Once, after Ivan had been there a couple of days, Dylan asked me while I was tucking him into bed, “Doesn't that man have a place to eat, Daddy?”

“Yes, but he likes Mama's cooking,” I said.

“Me too,” Dylan said satisfied.

It's the first time there had been a question about Ivan.

“He stops to say hello when he gets time.”

Ivan had questions about Dylan too. His were more annoying.

“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, so he could come back and get into mine.

“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 when he came home.

Now Ivan had come home to tell me he'd be going to Vietnam. He prepared me for it, if you can prepare your lover for your disappearance into places where no one could follow. I wasn't prepared for it.

Since he'd left our beach, I'd believed Ivan would tire of the road and come home to me. I was wrong. He was moving farther and farther away each year.

It's what came next in the evolution of Ivan Aleksa. What that meant in the evolution of Clayton Olson, wasn't apparent to me.

He told me in the beginning that he was going to get Boris, but I didn't see how he could. Now he was taking the final step, or so it seemed to me.

After my birthday in 1973, I didn't know if Ivan was alive or not. I got one aborted phone call from Phnom Penh and a scratchy call from Bangkok, proving he was over there somewhere and trying to reach me.

I couldn't be certain what any of it meant. I didn't know if I'd see Ivan again.

The stories coming out of Southeast Asia were frightening and the man i loved was right in the middle of it.

*****

Once more, Ivan managed to surprise me at Christmas. After all his abortive attempts to communicate with me since my birthday from Southeast Asia, I hardly expected him to be home for Christmas, but he was home.

No matter what he said or how long he stayed, I wouldn't be able to rest easy as long as he was over there and he did intend to go back. I would enjoy his presence and do my best to ignore his absence, once he did go back.

Dylan still had nothing to say to Ivan. I'm not sure what Ivan saw when he looked at Dylan, but it didn't inspire him to speak. They were still seated across from each other at the table. Dylan was down to one phone book that allowed him to be in easy reach of the food.

At four and a half he could serve himself, but Mama, knowing his likes, served him those things before he went for more. His study of Ivan during the Christmas visit was ongoing but quiet.

The one departure at Christmas in 1973, Ivan brought my son a fire truck for Christmas. It wasn't big and outrageous. It was hand painted and less than a foot long. It was solid metal.

Dylan liked the present and he thanked Ivan. He was far friendlier with Harry and Popov. By that time Dylan saw Harry at the conservancy and Popov at J.K.'s.

Ivan went to his mother's for the same reason he came to see me. I don't know he knew if he'd be back. I was sure Ivan recognized he was skating close to the edge.

We spent as much time together as he made available. Lucy was more than happy to take care of Dylan and spend the holidays in his company. Ivan was home long enough for everyone to get the idea we might not see him for a while.

I suppose, of all of his visits, Christmas 1973 was the one I liked least. We didn't talk about anything in particular. Being serious at such a dangerous time in our lives was merely a way to drag everyone down at a time of good cheer.

So we did happy and we made love and then Ivan did what he'd done so ofter in the past five years, he left me. This time I saw it coming by the way he acted, after coming back from his mother's.

*****

After Ivan complained about Dylan being all arms and legs, weighing a ton, when he moved him out of my bed that final night he was home, I asked, “Did you take a good look at him? Have you ever looked closely at my son?”

I knew the answer.

I knew it was our final night on that visit and I was waiting for the man I loved to recognize his son.

Chapter 21

Being Read

After getting my degree at the end of 1973, I was qualified to make my way in the world, flashing my sheepskin should anyone doubt my qualifications.

I knew no more after being handed my diploma than I knew before I received it, but I'd been operating as the conservancy's marine biologist since Bill Payne certified me the year before. To everyone in the world of biology, Bill Payne's word was golden.

*****

I did have a greater appreciation for literature by the time I graduated from college, which had as much to do with Dylan and Lucy as my English professors.

I was learning that reading was fun.

*****

Lucy was rarely without a book while we were growing up in Tulsa. I was sure the books she read had as much to do with Lucy's intellect as the schools she attended or the teachers who taught her.

When Lucy was eight and nine, she was reading Emily Dickinson's, Jane Austen's, and the Bronte sisters' novels. My friends and I once laughed at Lucy for carrying books the size of unabridged dictionaries around with her.

No matter where she was, she could sit down and immediately be lost in whatever novel she was reading.

By the time I was beginning to mature, after we arrived in Florida, I understood that Lucy was way smarter than I was. She didn't simply know more. Her intellect and thought process was far better developed than her older brother's would ever be.

Little rattled Lucy for long before she figured out how to accomplish what she'd set out to do.

My appreciation for Lucy's brain was refreshed one day as I came into the house after I finished at work. It was too early for dinner. After a dive that afternoon, I intended to take a shower and maybe catch a short nap before dinner.

Lucy was seated in the foyer with Dylan wedged up close to her and the book she held. She'd just graduated high school and was still home before she'd leave for Florida State in Tallahassee for her freshman year of college.

She was reading out loud and Dylan was mesmerized by the words she spoke. I went to the kitchen to see if there was something I could snag from whatever Mama was preparing for dinner.

“Mama, what's Lucy reading to Dylan?”

“I believe it's Jane Eyre. I enjoyed that book when I was a girl.”

“You notice Dylan is captivated by her reading to him?”

“You just noticed. She's been reading to him for ages. The foyer is so much cooler this time of year. Instead of reading to him in her room, she reads to him there. I can hear her in the kitchen. Her voice carries in the foyer.”

Some days I sat and listened for a while. Dylan hardly noticed I'd arrived home. Usually he'd want an immediate hug and some attention from his daddy when I came in.

Dylan could hardly sit still for long and this was a new way to get his attention and hold it.

Dylan turned three, Lucy went off to Tallahassee for college, and my son went back to being restless much of the time. He was still too young for me to take to the lab with me. I got distracted by my work and wasn't able to keep a close enough eye on him to head off any mischief he might get into.

When Lucy was home for Thanksgiving, I came in from work one afternoon and she was sitting with Dylan on the porch outside my bedroom. The foyer was chilly that time of year and the afternoon sun warmed the back of the house comfortably most days.

Lucy was reading Pride and Prejudice aloud. I read the title from the book jacket as I stood watching them.

This time Dylan was aware of my arrival, hearing me close the door to my room. He picked up the book I left on the rocking chair, where I last had time to read from The Godfather.

“Look, Daddy! I'm reading,” he said.

Lucy looked at him and smiled.

“Yes, you are,” I said, turning the book right side up in his hands.

He gave me the biggest smile.

This made me realize that it was time for me to begin reading to my son. It was obvious that he enjoyed being read to.

With Lucy showing the way I'd take advantage of his curiosity about words. Lucy hadn't mentioned it to me but I'm sure she was hoping I'd pick up on what she was doing.

My sister was trying to pass on her love of literature to Dylan. His daddy thought that was a fine thing to do.

“I read to him every day when I'm home, Clay. He seems to enjoy it. He grabbed the book you're reading when he heard the door close. He's imitating his daddy, you know.”

“I'll get some books and read to him before bed,” I said. “Could be a good way to get him to calm down and go to sleep.”

“That's a great idea,” Lucy said. “It would be a time you two can look forward to sharing.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said, putting his seal of approval on the idea.

*****

The next day on my way home I went to the bookstore and stocked up on Dr. Seuss books. It was recommended for kids Dylan's age. It gave me a place to start.

Each night I read to Dylan once he said a prayer for his mother and I tucked him in. This was the time of day we were always together. Reading to him became part of our evening ritual.

I started with The Cat in the Hat. I didn't know the story but I'd heard the title, and I liked it. It was clever.

At first I only read to him at bedtime but one afternoon when I came in from work, he brought me whatever book we were reading at the time. We sat together on the porch outside my bedroom and I read to him until dinner time, which was rarely more than a half hour if my planning was right.

The first time through the Dr. Seuss books, Dylan was content. The second time through, it didn't take long for me to wondered if he was listening. He squirmed, scooted, and wiggled in the chair beside me, when I read to him on the porch. He wiggled and squirmed while I read to him after I tucked him in.

Dylan was always a restless child. Reading had calmed him down remarkably, but the calm had fled and the restless returned as I began reading the books a second time.

Lucy was at college and I couldn't consult with her. I wondered if I should have him tested to see if his hearing was OK and maybe see if there might be a malfunction somewhere.

It never occurred to me that I might be the malfunction. I was looking forward to reading the books a second time. I always got more out of a story the second time I read it. I found things I missed the first time I read something.

I assumed Dylan was the same way as his daddy. Dylan didn't miss much but he wasn't paying attention as far as I could tell. It might be weeks before I talked to Lucy. Maybe if I kept at it, he'd calm down again.

I persisted, reading each book a second time. For some reason it didn't occur to me that my son was bored. I was sure the neat rhyme I enjoyed wouldn't get tiresome for a boy heading toward four.

Dr. Seuss was recommended for his age group.

He didn't seem to be paying attention. He didn't squirm when Lucy read to him. What wasn't I seeing? Maybe it was my voice.

When I started reading The Cat in the Hat for the third time to see how he'd react, I finally began to pay attention to what my son had been telling me.

As I began to read, any thoughts of Dylan being slow or not hearing well ended. Dylan began reciting The Cat in the Hat

word for word. He'd say the word just before I read it.

I couldn't recite from the books after reading them twice.

I tried some of the other five Dr. Seuss books with the same result. I could start in the middle and Dylan could recite the words no matter where I started reading.

I remembered what Ivan told me about flying. I flew because no one told me I couldn't.

I was dense when it came to listening to what my kid was telling me. I was so concerned that there was something wrong, that I kept reading the books to him, looking for a different outcome. I got one.

What I needed were some new books.

When Lucy came home for spring break, she said, “I read from whatever novel I'm reading at the time. He always listens. Maybe something with a little more meat on its bones. A plot with some character development.”

I took Dylan to the bookstore with me the following day. After looking over several books, we decided on three Hardy Boys' stories that came in a box. On the way home Dylan handed me The Tower Treasure. He wanted me to read that one first.

This was the first time Dylan picked the book he wanted read to him.

That night we started on the porch in the rocking chairs, reading about Frank's and Joe's adventure. He didn't squirm or wiggle. When it was time for him to go to bed, I sat in the chair beside his bed, and before I finished the next page, he'd fallen asleep.

It took until the third Hardy Boy's book that Dylan began to ask questions.

“Daddy, why did they do that? Do you think that was smart? Shouldn't they have known they were being watched? I think I'd sense being watched.”

Dr. Seuss bored my son and going on four, he related to Frank and Joe Hardy. He took adventures with them. So did his father. By not reading as a boy, except for comic books, the books Dylan liked were new to me.

I guess being slow on the uptake did have its advantages.

*****

Lucy was responsible for another habit I'd gotten into concerning Dylan. She spoke to him like he was an adult. She never used baby talk or slang to explain something to Dylan. My sister spoke in short concise sentences, which wasn't that remarkable when I think about it. She talked like an adult long before I did.

I was amazed by Dylan speaking to Lucy in simple sentences. He became far easier to understand and he responded to us more readily. I cut down on the shortcuts I took when I talked to my son.

If Dylan could talk like an adult, I was sure I could.

*****

It was during the summer before Lucy returned to Florida State for her sophomore year that I came in from work and I thought I heard Dylan talking. It was nothing like his usual speech pattern.

I went to investigate.

Lucy had been to the elementary school to get a copy of the First Grade Reader. She'd been teaching Dylan to read since she came home on summer vacation. I'd been too busy with work to notice.

Now, when she read a novel to Dylan, she pointed out words he knew. Dylan had been trying to figure out the larger words by using the sounds he knew.

“These are words you learned in your reader. See? Same as in your book. Words are made up of letters and once you learn the smaller words, you figure out the bigger words. Then you can read.”

“I can read a little,” Dylan said with confidence.

“You know a lot of words that are in this book,” Lucy explained, pointing out words he knew. “Here's the... and... it... you.... You know all of those words.”

“Let me see,” Dylan said, stumbling over words he recognized as Lucy pointed them out to him.

It was at the dinner table that Lucy told us, “I'm going to get my teaching certificate while I'm studying for my law degree. I want to teach. Dylan makes me realize how much faster kids learn than we allow them to learn. I want kids to love reading the way I do.”

I thought it was great. She obviously had been teaching Dylan for a long time and he didn't mind learning to read. I was sure it excited him. He knew the books we read were the doorway to worlds beyond his reach.

I began handing the book to Dylan after reading a line. He'd give me a big smile and say the words he recognized. I didn't have Lucy's patience but I was good at imitating her.

Dylan's was a halting speech as he explored letters and the sounds they made. I complimented him on his effort to sound words out. He recognize most two and three letter words. He'd begun to sound out four letter words. He rarely got one of those wrong twice.

Once Dylan heard a word, even the ones he wasn't sure about, he remembered what they looked like and he could come close to reproducing their sound. He didn't pronounce them all correctly every time, but he sampled the sound he thought a word might make.

He never said, “I don't know that word.”

It was rewarding to watch my son learn. After he turned four, he asked more questions about everything.

The world of words was never going to befuddle Dylan.

*****

By Christmas that year I had to stop by the bookstore to pick up a set of ten Nancy Drew mysteries in a box,

We'd read the last Hardy Boys book I was able to find.

There were other titles in print but I had no luck finding any of them. When I asked Harry about the Hardy Boys, he reminded me that I would be going to Washington to appear in front of his committee now that I had my diploma. He thought that would be a good place to look. Washington was filled with bookstores.

*****

There was a big celebration at Harry's over the holidays. It was a combination of “You got your diploma” and “Christmas party.”

It wasn't the kind of thing Harry could pass up. There were always donors, part of his local campaign staff, and people from my life and the congressman's were always invited.

“I got you something for Christmas, Clayton,” Harry said.

“Harry, you give me too much as it is,” I said.

“This you'll love,” he said, handing me a wrapped box that looked very much like a three book box set of something.

“The Hardy Boys,” I read from the box. “These are some of the titles I'm missing. Thanks, Harry.”

“Word travels when you're looking for things,” Harry said. “I sent my secretary out one afternoon and she came back with those.”

“Thank you. Thank her. I was about to start on Nancy Drew mysteries. Dylan will be glad to see these.”

“Nancy Drew? You think he'll like Nancy Drew, Clay?”

“He liked Jane Eyre. He likes the Hardy Boys. Why not Nancy Drew mysteries? It's a similar type story. It's not too complicated and he's beginning to read from the books now.”

“Dylan? Four year old Dylan is beginning to read?”

“Four and a half, Harry, and he starts kindergarten next year. Lucy began reading to him last year. While she was home this summer, she began teaching him to read.”

“My word! Lucy is a treasure.”

“Yes, she is. She's always thinking.”

*****

Dylan was all smiles when I came in from Harry's with the new Hardy Boys. Dylan took out the first book in the package when it was time to read, and he read the first two paragraphs to me.

He held the book too tightly and he stumbled quite a bit, but he didn't hesitate trying to read the words. If he didn't ask me to read them once he was done, I didn't and moved on to the next paragraph.

Some nights he'd ask for the book back to read a little more and some nights he wouldn't. We both enjoyed the stories and I was fascinated by the pace of my son's ability to learn.

I would never tell Dylan he couldn't fly.

*****

I started taking Dylan to work with me in early 1974. I'd come in for lunch and take him off Mama's hands so she could have free range to do whatever she wanted.

I'd found some biology books for kids at the bookstore. They had pictures of fish, turtles, frogs, and various other amphibian species. He liked looking through the books. He did his best to read what was said about each of the pictures.

When I sat him down with one of those biology books with a lot of pictures, he was happy as a lamb. If he got restless and began to wiggle and squirm, I took him to Pop's shop.

Pop loved having his grandson under foot and he added pizazz to the conservancy's day. Everyone who came over to the shop stopped to talk to Dylan.

Pop always had something Dylan could do to help out. I think spending time with his grandfather at work was some of Dylan's happiest times. He loved being in the lab with me but Pop was interactive with him. Dylan saw where he was helping him, even if it was pushing the broom to get the excess sand up. It was a task that had no end. There was always sand being tracked inside.

Dylan loved feeling useful, but when Pop was ready to go out to do a check of the beaches, Dylan made a beeline for the truck. He loved to ride. He loved riding in both Pop's pickup and Teddy's Chevy.

Dylan's world had expanded beyond the conservancy house.

*****

Harry gave me a raise when I was certified by Bill Payne. Another raise came with my diploma.

I'd been thinking about getting a marker for Sunshine's grave for some time. I could afford it now. I'd been by the stone cutters where they made the markers a half dozen times but I couldn't go in. I sat in the Chevy in the stone cutter's parking lot trying to summon the courage to do this simple task.

Sunshine had been gone since 1969 and I hadn't done it yet.

I couldn't afford one before and I wasn't about to borrow money for a headstone. I had nearly two thousand dollars in the jar on the fridge by the time I got my degree. When I emptied it out this time, Mama wouldn't object to how I intended to spend it, but I was still putting it off into the new year.

It wasn't a question of cost. The question was about my courage. My son was growing up and he needed to know I cared enough about his mother to put a simple marker on her grave.

Dylan wasn't getting any younger and as soon as I began taking him to work with me, I knew it was time to do what needing doing.

I wanted a marker at the site before Dylan asked to go to his mother's grave. He didn't ask to go yet and I had a little time left.

Early one morning I emptied the jar on the fridge for the second time. Mama smiled and patted my hand. She knew what the money was for and she knew how hard this would be on her youngest son.

I refused her offer to go along with me. I had to do this alone.

I had to do it for Sunshine and for Dylan.

The strangest part of this epic, as hard as I made it out to be, I saw the stone I wanted before going through the gate at the stone mason's shop. It caught my eye as soon as I got out of the Chevy. It's as if it was waiting there for me to finally show up.

That was the one.

It was an obelisk five feet tall. It sat on a substantial pedestal. An angels was carved on each corner and roses led from one angel to the next.

A man about Pop's age walked toward me. He was the stone mason. The dust from cutting into the stone gave him away. Even his forehead was dusty.

“I can see you don't need a tour,” he said, stopping beside me.

“How could you tell?” I asked.

“I've been doing this for forty years. When someone knows what he wants, I can see it on his face. This is not a cheap monument.”

“Good,” I said. “My wife was not a cheap woman.”

He smiled.

The man stood next to me with a pad when I described what I wanted him to inscribe.

“I want the word Sunshine on the obelisk, S-U-N-S-H-I-N-E with the S at the top and the other letters leading down toward the base. On the base under the word Sunshine, I want the word mother written across the pedestal so that the e in Sunshine is connected to the e in mother. Do something our four year old son will appreciate.”

“It's as good as done,” he said softly, drawing a design between Sunshine and mother.

Across one side I want the word wife. Across the opposite side I want the word friend. That's all. Nothing on the back.”

He showed me a book with different styles of print for me to pick what I liked. I picked one style for her name and a different style for the words that described who she was to the people who loved her.

*****

The Olsons, Harry, and Twila stood on the hill by Sunshine's grave the day the obelisk was set into place.

The word Sunshine faced the Gulf of Mexico.

There wasn't a dry eye once we were alone.

Mama said as she took my arm to walk back to the car, “It's perfect, Clay. Sunshine would love it.”

Only one person I wanted to be there wasn't there.

*****

It had been easy.

My life was easy.

Only one place in my life was hard.

*****

When Harry built the new biology laboratory to put the conservancy on the cutting edge with state of the art equipment for its future marine biologist, he built my office so my window faced Sunshine's resting place on the hill beside the conservancy.

Harry never mentioned it to me but the first time I looked out the window while sitting at my desk, my eyes immediately went to the top of the dune a hundred feet away.

This was the kind of thing Harry did but never mentioned. He knew I'd know why my window was where it was.

Enough said.

I knew where Sunshine was. I hadn't been to her grave since the day we buried her. I knew she was close and being able to see the hill where she was buried made me feel closer to her.

Once the obelisk was set into place, I could see it when I looked out my window at the top of the dune.

*****

When Dylan started coming to the lab, I sat him in my chair so he could see the obelisk. He was content with that until after he turned five. That's when he wanted to walk to his mother's grave.

It wasn't that long before he would wait until it was getting close to the time we'd go home, and he'd ask if he could walk to her grave alone. He'd say, “I'm going to visit my mother, Daddy.”

He'd head out the front of the lab, cross the sand, and he'd climb the hill behind the conservancy building. When he reached the obelisk, he'd wave to me where I was waiting in the window and I'd go about finishing up for the day.

I would go to get him if he hadn't come down by the time I was ready to go. On some days I left Dylan alone with his mother for as long as he liked. On other days I made the trek to her grave to join him. He liked it when we were there together.

He liked sitting next to the obelisk to tell a woman he'd never known about his life. It amazed me how intensely Dylan felt about someone he'd only seen in pictures. Somehow he knew his mother and he loved her.

Dylan had Sunshine's purity.

When I made the climb to the top of the dune and I heard Dylan talking about his day, I pictured Sunshine wearing a yellow knit hat and a white knitted shawl as she smiled radiantly, while we looked at the Straits of Florida at the southern edge of Key West.

That's when she still had good days. Once we returned from Key West, she began a slow decline. At times it was difficult to picture her now. It seemed so long ago.

One day when Dylan was at the lab with me, he said he was going to visit his mother. When he didn't return by the time I was ready to go, I walked across the sand and up the hill.

As I climbed the last stretch of sand that took me to the top of the dune, I stopped when I heard singing.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my Sunshine away.”

I moved slowly to let him finish. He looked back over his shoulder, sensing I was there.

“Oh, hi, Daddy. I was singing to my mother.”

“I heard. I sang that song to her while she was sick,” I said.

“You did?”

“Yes, I did. Where'd you learn the words?”

“I heard it at nursery school. It's pretty.”

“Yes, it is,” I said, wiping my eyes as we started down.

*****

I thought of Ivan. I thought of telling Dylan how he'd come into being. How it was that I was his daddy.

It was a conversation we would have sooner than later. As I held his small hand in mine, I wanted to protect him for a while longer. I don't know how much Dylan understood then, but by the time he was five the questions about Ivan had begun.

He knew where his mother was. He had no knowledge about his father. Before he turned five he had a memory of Ivan I knew nothing about. He was still thinking about what it meant.

Dylan had been putting the pieces together for the past year and keeping the truth from him wouldn't be possible or wise. He knew I married his mother so he'd be my son and so he'd be an Olson.

We hadn't gone much beyond that. I hadn't anyway. The truth was implicit in that piece of information. When Dylan needed to go further, he'd ask. He knew who he was and he wasn't afraid of the truth.

The trick was not to rush him into learning the facts about who he was.

Chapter 22

Daddy's Home?

My professional life went into high gear in 1974, once I had my degree.

My schedule no longer required me to drive to For Myers two days a week. Now, I had six additional hours to devote to work on Tuesday and Thursday. The best part was arriving home for dinner and not being worn to a frazzle on those days.

There wasn't much I did differently. I had time to do more of it. The one change was the number of offers for speaking engagements coming my way. During 1974, people who heard my story wanted me to talk to biologists, students, and environmentalists.

Common sense said they'd heard about me from Bill Payne. Most of the offers came from colleges and institutions located close to the Gulf of Mexico.

Being the conservancy's marine biologist created an interest in my work at a time when the study of the Gulf was going into high gear. Congressman Harry McCallister, chairman of the environmental committee on Capitol Hill, spoke often about his conservancy and the work his marine biologist did.

It was an election year and when I spoke to an audience familiar with what was going on in the Gulf, I was telling the story I'd be telling for Harry on the campaign trail later in the year.

The more I told my story, the better I told it.

I gained confidence as the year took hold and I spoke in places that allowed me to be home to tuck Dylan in at night. That didn't mean I wouldn't accept a speaking engagement from one of the more distant Gulf states but I wasn't ready to do it yet.

I was confident that I'd never again appear before men responsible for the health of the Gulf of Mexico and hear them quibble over my credentials or the information I provided.

As Harry told me after my appearance in Tallahassee, “Clayton, remember these words. 'Do you want to appear with me at my press conference to explain your position to the voters?' You'll find politicians becoming very pliable once you speak them.”

Perhaps I lacked the cajones to say such a thing to legislators my first time around. That wasn't true any longer. I knew my business and I took the time to be sure of what I said before saying it.

The Florida boys, as Harry called them, were more worried about my credentials than the truth I spoke.

While I wouldn't trade the experience of sitting before that Florida committee, it demonstrated the mountain environmentalists had to climb to get the attention of people who were responsible to pass the laws that would preserve a healthier environment.

I didn't realize that this was such a bee in my bonnet, until it came to pass that Marvin Clayton Olson had his diploma in hand. It didn't change the truth of the story I told but it would please law makers no end.

*****

I was back in the Gulf in January. It was bright, sunny, and a little on the cool side, but once I was underwater, I was in my element. This was my world. It's where my work was done.

By 1974 I knew the men who came to my lab to compare notes. Some wanted to dive with me but they all wanted to look at my notes, my files, and the shelves of specimens I'd gathered over the years.

Most of the marine biologists who came to chat were involved with other bodies of water. The problems they encountered were similar to the ones found in the Gulf.

There was a similarity to how pollution impacted the organisms no matter the waterway.

*****

1974 was an election year. Harry came in during April and he took me to the Gulf Club one day for lunch. The campaign was about to begin. He was about to organize his campaign staff.

“I'll want you to make more campaign stops with me this year. Being the chairman of the environmental committee means getting my ducks in a row. We're making progress, Clayton.”

“I'm ready, Harry. Whatever you need. You know where to find me.”

*****

By that time I knew the routine and there was no reason for Harry to be reluctant to use me to tell the story he wanted told. It's why I was hired. It's why he sent me to school. I was Harry's man.

I was ready to rock and roll.

*****

I wasn't ready for Ivan to come calling late in the night as my twenty-fourth birthday arrived. I didn't expect him.

By 1974 Dylan was far more aware of the world around him.

I hadn't paid much attention to Ivan's annoyance over Dylan being in my bed. It was nothing new. He often fell asleep while I read to him. Sometimes he fell asleep there after I fell asleep.

This time it was different. This time Dylan noticed when he was moved out of my bed to his own bed. He hadn't said anything because it created a problem for him.

Dylan was old enough to remember when he came face to face with something that didn't make sense to him. He came face to face with Ivan. Something happened that Dylan didn't understand. That was the problem. He'd work on it a while before bringing it to me.

“That kid's all arms and legs,” Ivan said, as he slid into bed beside me, wrapping his strong arms around me.

Already angry, this wasn't the best way to win me over, after a longer absence than usual. It was the first time I knew he was alive for sure. Making mean comments about my son was a bad plan.

By then Ivan had finished becoming a man and he was all man. His voice was deep and he'd added muscle as his body thickened. We weren't boys any more. He had been changing since he left our beach at eighteen. Changes came in big gulps when we didn't see each other for a year.

Before Dylan woke up Ivan was gone. He didn't come to wish me happy birthday. I don't remember him mentioning it. It was no coincidence it was the day he picked to come home and the present came in the form of goodbye.

Ivan was home.

He was alive.

I was as mad as a hornet but his kisses took the sting out of me. We were soon locked together in a loving embrace. It was intense. It was the natural thing to do. Our love making hadn't been a problem. We were men, loving as lustily as men love.

At twenty-four our passion could still override our reason.

By June of 1974 I knew that making love was a futile exercise if my lover was always absent. This time he wasn't going to kiss and run. I wasn't going to let that happen again.

At twenty-four my reason was going to overcome my lust. I would pin him down. I wanted the truth, whatever it was. He wasn't leaving until I got it.

Being determined merely made me sound psychopathic when Ivan volunteered to tell me what he was doing and why. He told me what I wanted to know and I was even more pissed off.

Ivan came home to reassure me. It would take more than a roll in the hay to prove we were still lovers. The fog created by making love cleared away once we went as far as we were able to go.

We retreated back to a peaceful repose on my bed.

There was no making sense of Ivan's arrival but I would have the answers I wanted before he left. There is something to be said for being careful what you wished for.

His passion made me believe he did love me. Sex was not love but I couldn't imagine that intensity was possible without a hint of love being involved. We'd known each other for ten years.

Ivan loved me. He knew how to make love to me. Once we got going, we weren’t going to take an intermission for chit chat, but on this night, because we both made up our mind to talk, we talked.

He knew the questions.

I knew the answers.

I asked anyway. His answers aggravated me more than usual.

“When are you coming home, Ivan?” I was just warming up.

“I am home,” Ivan said. “I was sure you noticed. It felt like you noticed me. babe. Can't you be happy when I'm here? I need you to be here for me so I can stay strong.”

“But you aren't home, Ivan. Do you care what you're doing to me? It's been long enough. Making love isn't being in love. Stopping by when you're in the neighborhood isn't a relationship.”

“I know, babe. I wish it was almost over. It isn't. I came home so you'd know what I'm about to do.”

“I have a life. I need to know if you're in it or if I'm on my own. Is this how it's going to be from now on? Give me a date when I can expect you to come home to stay. Give me something. Anything!”

“You can't tell how much I love you?”

“Ivan!”

“That's wearing thin, huh? I came home because you need to know what I'm about to do. It's not what I'd do if I had a choice. I had to fight to make this trip home. They didn't want to allow me to leave, but I wasn't signing up for their program without letting you know what's going on. That's why I'm home.”

“They who, Ivan? You're looking for your brother. Find him and come home,” I said. “How long is it going to take? Is Boris alive?”

“I've gotten myself involved in something ...and I won't be home for two years,” he said.

“What?”

“I can't tell you what. I ran into a... situation, while i was trying to get into Vietnam. It's against the law to do that. I'm going back over there and I won't be able to come home until this time in 1976.”

“Who says.”

“People who know what I'm doing and instead of sending me to prison, they're letting me work off my sentence. I'm not able to say much about who they are. They are Americans. They are government people.”

“Two years? Where's Boris in all this? You're looking for Boris, remember?”

“If I do what I've said I'll do, I'll get a free pass into Vietnam. It's the deal I've made. It was that or jail. While I do the work for them, they're keep their eyes open for any information on Boris. These people deal in information. It's possible they'll hear something.”

“I don't understand, Ivan. You were over there looking for your brother and people are going to use that against you? Our people?”

“It's not something I can explain. I'm obligated to work for them for two years. I do that and I'll get into Vietnam. Then I'll find Boris.”

“When does all this happen, Ivan?”

“In a few minutes. I've got to be in Miami later this morning. They gave me the time it took to come home and make things right.”

I got quiet. I was holding onto him as if I might be able to keep him from going. We kissed and held each other for a few minutes.

What could I say? I wanted to talk about us. There was no us. Ivan was off on some wild goose chase and I had a life to attend to. He wasn't turning my life inside out any longer.

I would let go of him and hope that one day he'd come home.

I suppose I could have handled it with more grace but mad beat the hell out of graceful. He was going to do what he was going to do and I was getting on with my life. I was still mad.

If I'd known I wouldn't see Ivan again until he showed up on the Sea Lab a lifetime later, I might have talked more, made love longer, but mostly I was mad.

I was angry with him when he showed up. I was angry with him when he left, and I'd still be angry with him the next time I saw him.

It wasn't a good way to be but love can do that to you.

*****

Dylan would soon be five. I didn't mention Ivan being there. By the time Dylan got up the next morning, Ivan was long gone.

I'd been waiting for an opportunity to put all the cards on the table while Ivan was there. It would be at least two more years before Dylan and I could sit down with his father to explain who Dylan was.

A week after my birthday I came in from work and found Dylan sitting on the edge of my bed. He had the picture of Ivan and me in his lap. His face was close to the glass.

He didn't hear me come in.

“What's up, kiddo,” I asked.

He didn't change his position and I was about to speak again when he spoke.

“He was here,” Dylan said.

“He's been here a few times since you were born,” I said, not catching what he meant.

“Just now he was here,” Dylan said.

“What do you mean?”

“A few days ago. I woke up and he had me in his arms. He put me in bed and tucked me in. He didn't know I was awake. I looked at his face. He said, 'Sleep tight, baby blue' and kissed my forehead. Why did he call me that, Daddy.”

“His grandfather called his brother baby blue when he first saw him, when he was a little baby.”

“I'm not a baby. Why did he say that?”

“Compared to Ivan, you're a baby, Dylan. He associated you with his brother is all.”

“I don't know,” Dylan said. “I knew who he was.”

“You did?” I asked, not sure where we were going.

“He's in the picture. He's your best friend. He was here.”

“A couple of years ago he sat across from you at the dinner table. He did that a few times when he was still coming home.”

“No, I don't remember that but he was here.”

“He was here on my birthday but he didn't stay.”

Dylan put the picture back on the nightstand.

Each time I thought, 'This is the time I've got to explain who Ivan is,' but he let me off the hook.

It wouldn't be long now. The evidence had begun to appear on Dylan's face.

*****

Dylan didn't question who he was or why he was in the conservancy house with his daddy. He wasn't sure how it got the way it was. He was an Olson, like his mother and father.

He knew the people he lived with loved him.

*****

On Dylan's first birthday I took him swimming. On his fifth birthday, I took him on the Seaswirl for the first time and we went snorkeling.

It gave him a new perspective on what was in the water where we swam. Snorkeling would satisfy Dylan for a couple of years, but that's when I made the mistake of taking him with me when I made a dive to take some pictures.

I loaded my SCUBA gear and my son on the Seaswirl. It would only take a few minutes. I had Pop make a cylinder with a glass in the end of it. Dylan could watch me underwater. It seemed like a great idea at the time.

I intended for my son to be fascinated by another aspect of his daddy's work. As he grew, I wanted to make him aware of the environment and how to protect it. I wanted Dylan to appreciate the beauty of where we lived and the need to preserve it.

Dylan stayed in the boat as I went down in my SCUBA gear. We were only a few miles from the cove. He watched me through the cylinder. I waved at him as I took the pictures.

Dylan's reaction wasn't what I expected.

“I want SCUBA gear, Daddy. I want to dive with you.”

I explained he couldn't get SCUBA gear until he was big enough for the equipment to fit him properly. That started a battle that lasted over two years. It was a matter of safety, but try to explain that to a seven year old that sees something he wants to do.

*****

Dylan loved Teddy's car. I began taking him to J.K's Kitchen about the time he turned five. It was filled with the textures of life, unique sounds, and people I knew and wanted Dylan to know about. These were people who lived their lives beyond the conservancy house but influenced my life in ways I still hadn't realized.

There was sawdust on the floor now and most patrons were in tee-shirts and bare feet at noon. It was an earthy place where characters you might meet in a Robert Lewis Stevenson novel might congregate.

I'd been absent from J.K.'s Kitchen since Dylan was a baby. His first year we'd gone a half dozen times and the fisherman were all pleased with my son's progress, but I was so busy all the time, my fisherman's roots hardly came to mind.

My work and my dives were connected to the Gulf and the people who depended on it. The fishermen were part of who I was and what I did and giving Dylan a glimpse of this part of my life as he grew up would help to complete his picture of me.

I remembered how well I'd been treated back when times were toughest and I decided it was time to take Dylan back to J.K.'s so they could get a look at him and he of them.

I'd been too busy until then to make J.K.'s a regular stop.

As I settled into a booth with my son, People came in and stood at the counter for takeout. Old fisherman, some I recognized, sat at the tables spinning yarns about the sea. Dylan sat wide eyed and took in the pictures, the nets, the trophy fish, some new and some I remembered.

I left work early on Wednesdays and picked Dylan up from kindergarten. Instead of taking him home, we went to J.K.'s. I'd take Dylan home before meeting Bill Payne for our dive at three o'clock. We dove maybe once a month in 1974. Bill liked to keep in touch and we both loved diving.

Dylan sat kicking his feet and looking around. It wasn't busy just after lunch time. People came and went and some nodded, but most didn't recognize me at twenty-four.

“I've been here?” Dylan asked as he sat across from me.

“Yes, you have. You were a baby. It's been three years since I last brought you.”

“The smell. It doesn't smell like anything Mama cooks.”

“Grand Mama,” I reminded him for the umpteenth time.

“I know. You call her Mama,” he said. “Everyone calls her Mama.”

“She's my mother. She is your grand mother,” I tried again.

“She's Mama to everyone. I'm not hurting anything, am I, Daddy?”

“No, kiddo, you're not hurting anything. What you're smelling is deep fried seafood. Your grandmother, Mama, doesn't deep fry. It's a southern thing.”

“I remember that smell,” he said, banging his feet against the booth as he spoke.

“Dylan, you were a little baby the last time you were here.”

“Little babies don't come with noses? I smelled that smell, Daddy.”

“OK,” was all I could say.

The fishing fleet went out late Sunday night and came in later on Wednesday. They weren't back yet but I saw the boats when Bill and I left the cove when we did a Wednesday dive.

I'd bring Dylan when the fleet was in but this time I wanted him to get a feeling for J.K.'s.

“This is the baby? I'm Chico from Captain Popov's crew,” he said with a sandpaper whisper. “I'll tell the captain you was here.”

“I thought I recognized you,” I said, glancing at his half hand.

“Caught it in the winch. Twisted them fingers right off,” he said. “Not much use for a one handed fisherman.”

“That's tough. I'm sorry to hear that,” I said.

“You fish all your life?” Dylan asked. “I'm Dylan.”

Dylan offered his hand and let the man grasp it with the half hand. My son was better at not noticing the deformity than I was.

“I remember you when you was a a little bitty fellow. Your daddy brung yeah here. You grew a mite. Talk a mite more too. I fished all my life. 'Til now. Captain Popov sees to me and the Mrs.”

*****

The following Wednesday we waited for the fleet to be in before going back to J.K.'s. We met both Captain Popov and Captain Tito there. They still came into J.K.'s once they tended to the fish.

Popov was expressive and you knew he was the captain of a fishing boat by looking at him. I could picture him playing Long John Silver in a realistic version of Treasure Island.

Dylan was captivated by Popov and even tolerated sitting on the man's knee. Dylan sat on no one's knee and he couldn't tolerate people fawning over him, but in all honesty, Popov didn't fawn, but Dylan was fascinated by the man's presence.

I was too. Captain Popov was a bigger than life character.

Captain Tito still called me, 'The charmer of the fish,' and Dylan gave me a curious look the first time he heard it. I didn't talk about being a fisherman. It didn't come up. I'd lived so much life since I fished for Mr. Aleksa, what happened since overshadowed that portion of my life.

My son's eyes opened wide as Popov agreed to tell him a story about when his father was a fisherman in Popov's fleet.

“Your father, when he wasn't much older than you, came to sea with us. He is the charmer of the fish, you know?” Popov said in an enchanting voice.

Dylan was mesmerized.

“The first day your papa, he fished with us, we caught more fish than any of us had ever seen. Your father brought the fish to our boats. They were so anxious to be caught, the fish they tried to jump onto our decks. We filled our holds and came home a day early. Your papa he is a great fisherman.”

Dylan looked me over. He didn't know I fished when I was a boy. Popov remembered. He still believed it was me that brought the fish to their boats that day. I'd become part of the fishing fleet's lore.

Before Popov finished the story a dozen fishermen stood around nodding to verify Popov's account.

*****

Later that week, as I read from David Copperfield, Dylan asked, “Can we read Robinson Crusoe next, Daddy?”

“Sure,” I said. “Where'd you hear about Robinson Crusoe?”

“School. I was asking about sea stories. The librarian said it was fine for someone my age. She first said, 'Treasure Island,' but changed it. I think I want to read Treasure Island too, if we can.”

“Did you tell her no one is your age?”

“No,” he said, embarrassed by talk of him being smart.

“We'll get Robinson Crusoe next and then we'll read Treasure Island. It's OK for you. A boy about your age is in the story, Jim Hawkins. I liked that book.”

“You think Captain Popov has read those books?”

“I'd bet on it. There's something we need to talk about, kiddo.”

“What did I do now?” he asked.

*****

The last time Ivan was home, Dylan had been awake when he was carried from my bed to his. He'd mentioned this. He'd looked into Ivan's face. He told me he recognized him.

He knew who he was.

I, being slow on the uptake, assumed he meant that he recognized Ivan from the picture of us on the nightstand.

Dylan had seen something in Ivan's face I didn't want to know about. It was too soon. He was too young. I wasn't ready, and Dylan let the subject drop.

It had been picked up.

I knew we were going to have the conversation about Ivan being Dylan's father.

Dylan wasn't going to let me put it off any longer. He needed to hear his daddy tell him who he really was.

*****

“It's not what you did. You're so smart your daddy doesn't know what to say to you sometimes,” I said.

“You do OK,” he said, cocking his head to look at me.

“You stopped asking question about Ivan last summer after he was here. I see there's been an addition to the picture on my night stand.”

Dylan glanced at the picture he'd spent a lot of time looking into over the past year. It was as if he was looking to see what I might be talking about.

I had a chill. The time of innocence was about to end and I didn't know what came next.

In the corner of the picture frame next to Ivan's face was Dylan's tiny first grade school picture. It was just his face. It was just big enough to unlock what Dylan had suspected for some time.

“You never asked the question you want to ask. Is that a hint?” I asked, looking at the picture on the night stand.

“Not really. I mean I look a little like him. Don't I, Daddy?”

I sat closer to my son, putting my arm around him as we sat on the edge of my bed.

“You look a lot like Ivan, Dylan. I've got something to tell you and it won't be easy on your daddy. It won't be easy on you but it's time you hear it. I'm going to tell you the last words your mother spoke to me.”

He looked confused. How'd we get from Ivan to Sunshine?

“It'll answer the question you haven't been able to ask. I've never told anyone this. I saved her last words for you. I knew that's what she wanted me to do.”

“OK,” he said uncertain.

“Your mother;s last words were, 'Dylan is Ivan's son.'”

Dylan tightened his grip on me. He started to cry.

I started to cry.

I'd finally said it and there was nothing else to say.

*****

I remember the day I met Boris. He was an older, more mature version of Ivan. They looked like twins. When Lucy discovered Ivan and I were lovers, within a day, she'd gone from disappointment over being unable to marry Ivan, to deciding she'd marry Boris.

That's how much they looked alike. Lucy decided they were interchangeable in this case. It was a thirteen year old girl's logic.

When Dylan turned five, he already resembled Ivan. By the time his school picture was taken, the resemblance was unmistakable.

His face next to Ivan's face left no doubt who Dylan was.

I'd seen the picture he put next to Ivan's face to compare them. I didn't get close enough to see what Dylan saw. I wasn't ready.

I didn't want to see the evidence that would become apparent to everyone in time.

Did all the Aleksa's look alike? There was no doubt in my mind.

*****

As we sat down to read the next evening, Dylan asked, “Where is he, Daddy. Where's my father?”

“You know where he is. I told you. He left here to find his brother.”

“He doesn't care about me? Why isn't he here? Why has he never made an effort to talk to me? Doesn't he think I deserve it?”

“He doesn't know you're his son. I didn't know who your father was when I married your mother. It wasn't important. I wanted to marry your mother. It made you my son. It made you both Olsons. That's what was important.”

“Cool!” he said, satisfied.

As with wanting to know why he looked like Ivan, there was no way to know what other questions Dylan wanted to ask. He took his time and digested the facts as they became clear. Then he'd begin to work on his next question.

“I won't tell Ivan unless you tell me I've got to tell him. I won't have him doing to you what he's done to me, Dylan. I tell him that and he doesn't make an effort to get to know you, and you'll never forgive him. You look more and more like him as you grow. He'll figure it out without being told. It's up to him to recognize you.”

“But you're my daddy,” he said with misty eyes.

“I married your mother to be your daddy. I'll always be your daddy. Don't you ever forget that. It's the law. It's on your birth certificate.”

“You married my mother so I'd belong to you?”

“Yes, I married Sunshine because I wanted you to be my son.”

“Cool!” Dylan said, and he hugged me tightly.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, son.”

*****

Dylan wasn't the only one to notice that he resembled Ivan.

Mama watched Dylan growing as 1974 became 1975 and he went from five to six. She fed him breakfast each morning and sat next to him at the dinner table each night as the days passed.

I wasn't there the exact moment the tumblers fell into place and Mama's hand went to her mouth and she said, “Oh my God,” as she saw Ivan in her grandson the first time. She may have been seeing it but didn't recognize what she was seeing, until she did.

By this time I'm sure she'd done double taken a few times, trying to figure out who Dylan resembled. Before long Mama mentioned her discovery, sounding unusually contrite.

Mama discovered she'd been wrong about me.

Mama wasn't one to keep her feelings to herself.

“You know, Clay, I've never been more proud of you than I am right this minute. Seeing you with Dylan tells me what a good man you are and what a foolish woman your mother is.”

“Well thank you, Mama,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I love you too. Can I give you a refill on that coffee?”

“I... said things to you that should never have been said. I didn't know and I should have known better. You should have put me in my place, Clay. Why didn't you say something?”

That's how I knew the connection had been made.

“You're in your place, Mama. You're here taking care of your family and wanting us to do the best we can. That is your place.”

“You should have told me how wrong I was?”

“And miss this, Mama. No, I knew you'd figure it out soon enough. It was easier just to let it be. I knew you loved me. That's what was important to me. No one is perfect.”

“And Ivan?” Mama asked, watching my face closely.

“I love him, Mama. I can't depend on him any more but love isn't something that goes away. If he comes back we'll make a life with Dylan or he won't want that responsibility. I'll deal with it when the time comes. Dylan always comes first in this equation, Mama.”

“You know, I shouldn't approve of you and Ivan, Clay, but your mother made a fool of herself by trying to get you to live according to my beliefs once. I am not so old I can not learn my lesson. Being a fool one time is enough. The only important thing to me is that you're happy.”

Mama smiled, patting the back of my hand. There was no telling how long she'd known Ivan and I were lovers, but she knew now and there was hardly a howl.

So far her God hadn't become unhinged and sent Florida spinning off into the bottom of the sea.

“Does Dylan know, Clayton?” Mama asked.

“For a while now. He figured it out. When I saw his school picture in the corner of the picture on my night stand, next to Ivan's face, the jig was up. He said, 'I look a little like him, Daddy.'”

Mama laughed.

Her grandson did not miss much.

Chapter 23

Chiefs & Indians

With 1975 moving right along, after a dinner for donors and staff at Harry's, I ended up with him in the study at his home. I drank iced tea. Harry worked on a second bourbon and branch water.

It was a catch up conversation. We hadn't been in the same place much since early 1974, when the winds of change began to blow. They didn't let up until the August recess of 1975.

The invitation read, 'For dinner and a chat.'

I recognized Harry's handwriting. He'd written the note himself at the bottom of an embossed invitation that came from a Washington D.C. return address.

I suspected he was fattening the calf for his first appearance in front of Harry's environmental committee. I'd have appeared long ago if it hadn't been for the trouble in Washington.

Nixon resigned before the 1974 midterm elections. Everyone in Washington was scrambling to steer clear of the turmoil surrounding the executive branch and Nixon's inner circle. Many of them were under indictment and heading for prison if if they weren't already there.

Anyone who was close to Nixon kept his head down and a “No comment” comment ready should the army of reporters assigned to cover the fall of the president show up.

If Harry called me in front of his committee last year or this, no one would have noticed. Washington was consumed by the drama that cost Nixon his job. The town was abuzz about the affair.

It wasn't much of an affair. There wasn't even a woman involved, but everyone wanted to know what the president knew and when he knew it. My opinion of politicians wasn't high enough to make me curious about what any of them knew, except for Harry.

Nixon claimed, “The American people have to know their president is not a crook.”

I doubted anything Nixon said was true. The idea he'd begin telling the truth during his Watergate affair was farfetched.

I had my degree and I was ready to rock and roll when 1974 began. The call never came from Harry and I went about my business in the Gulf of Mexico and at the conservancy laboratory. I was more at ease on both fronts while I waited.

Many politicians headed for cover. A scandal anywhere in government reminded the voters how little they liked the people who claimed to represent them, although they kept voting the same people into office, being at a loss for what else to do. Politicians who kept a low profile were more likely to be reelected in 1974.

I hardly saw Harry during the campaign of 1974. He was reelected for the third time but my contribution was minimal. When he came to the conservancy, he didn't stay long, and we rarely spoke for more than a few minutes at a time.

I had plenty to do and I wasn't paid enough to worry about Harry's schedule. I'd heard about the trouble in Washington and it had tied the city in knots. No one could talk about anything else. For the first time in American history a president resigned.

Harry finally made it home during August recess in 1975. Things in Washington had begun to calm down in early 1975. The new president didn't require as much attention as Nixon did.

Harry's number one reason for going to Washington was the environment. The Florida voters knew he wasn't simply a politician but his conservancy was working to keep Florida's environment clean.

Harry Ushered in a renaissance in thinking in the area of environmental protection on Capitol Hill. Nixon had taken an interest in Harry's environmental concerns, and the two appeared together when environmental issues were involved. When Nixon signed major environmental legislation, Harry was often at his side.

Republicans who wanted to be seen with Nixon, jumped on board Harry's environmental train, riding it to the White House. Those same politicians were now busy distancing themselves from the president. The best move was to move as far away as possible from the embattled president.

Harry stood on solid environmental ground and his history and accomplishments spoke for themselves. He'd been able to produce major environmental legislation. Nixon signing that legislation was seen as a feather in Harry's cap and a win for the environment and the people.

*****

By 1974, if you hadn't made it to Nixon's enemies list, you weren't trying. When Nixon began struggling to keep his head above water in the Watergate scandal, no one made any effort to throw him a life preserver. He was on his own and he knew it.

Nixon footprint would be left right in the middle of America's future. The war on drugs he orchestrated to punish blacks and anti-war protesters, would rage on without interruption. He not only left us with the EPA, but for profit healthcare, and peace with honor in Vietnam, even though we withdrew and Vietnam reunited in spite of our effort to stop it.

When Harry returned to Washington after being elected to his fourth term, Ford was president.

He'd been a popular congressman.

America was hopeful.

President Ford fell down a lot, especially when he pardoned Nixon. He told us, “America's long national nightmare is over.”

The pardon meant we'd never hear from Nixon in a court of law.

Ehrlichman, Halderman, Mitchell, and Dean, the men closest to Nixon, went to prison.

*****

(A decade after resigning in shame, Nixon returned to American politics as the Republican's elder statesman.)

He had more lives than a cat.

Only in America!

*****

When the smoke cleared, Harry was known as the standard-bearer for the environmental movement on Capitol Hill. This kept him out of the line of fire. Being a committee chairman meant he was well known and respected.

Harry held typical Democratic views. He was an FDR Democrat, believing that people should share in the wealth their labor created. People who made that contribution should earn a decent standard of living. It was people's labor that created the prosperity that made America great.

The original plan was for me to come to Washington and appear in front of Harry's committee early in 1975. At August recess that year I got the only invitation I'd received from my mentor and boss.

“Come for dinner and a chat at the house Saturday evening.”

There was a lot to talk about. A year after Nixon's resignation and the government was still regrouping. Gerald Ford was no Richard Nixon, but it remained to be seen what kind of president he'd be.

I knew what was going on and why I wasn't likely to appear in front of Harry's committee in 1975. What I didn't expect was a private meeting with Harry ending up with us talking about Ivan.

There were ten people at dinner. I'd seen most of them at one time or another. After drinks were poured and cigars were lit, Harry made the rounds, speaking to each of his guests. When he got to me he took me by the arm, escorting me into his inner sanctum.

“I'm sorry, Clayton. Washington has been a madhouse for the last year. I'm sure you've heard about it in the news. It's going to be 1976 before I call you before my committee. This isn't how I planned it but politics are never predictable.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I'll be here when you need me. Don't know if the old Chevy will get me there.”

“Good Lord, Clayton. Why don't you loosen up and buy a new car? I pay you enough to buy something expensive. Why don't you pamper yourself?”

“I told Teddy I'd look after his Chevy. That's what I'm doing,” I said.

“I'll fly home to get you. I'll put you up in the Mayflower. One of the benefits of being at your congressman's beck and call. People I don't like or criminal types we've got to coerce into appearing we stash at the Chastleton. It's up on 16th Street. No room service.”

“That must be close to 15th Street,” I said. “I really don't want to take up residence, Harry. Just give you what you want. I think of you more as my boss and less as my congressman.”

“That is one way of looking at it,” Harry said, sipping from his drink.

“Staying in D.C. a couple of nights won't hurt me. You are there all the time and. you're still almost normal.”

Harry laughed.

“I enjoyed the duck,” I said. “It's nice to see you, Harry. I'd begun to worry if they were holding you hostage.”

“Don't even joke about that. You don't know how close I came.”

“Do tell,” I said.

“Before we go into my brush with the underbelly of our government agencies, let's talk shop.”

The other guests, donors and his campaign chairman, raved about the cuisine. They didn't make it into Harry's inner sanctum to refuse his bourbon and snacks. I did. I felt special.

Whatever we talked about, I knew we'd be caught up by the time I left, after midnight if the past meant anything.

Harry and I were on the same page and at times like these we started where we left off. He liked keeping with it until we were caught up.

*****

There had been an election since we'd last met for a talk. I saw Harry on the campaign trail, speaking right after he did in most instances, but there was no time for small talk. Harry spent so little time in his district that when he was there, he always had another campaign stop, another meeting with donors, and a late night dinner at the house of one of Harry's supporters, once the day was done.

My casualness around here caught some of his donors and staff off guard, but when I saw Harry, even in a gaggle of patrons, I was going to say hello.

At one spot the year before, when I was to speak right after Harry, I saw him standing with his handlers before he went on.

At one event, after not seeing Harry close up for a while, I was anxious to talk to him. As a speaker warmed up the crowd, Harry stood waiting to speak.

“Harry!” I yelled enthusiastically, wanting to at least say hello.

A mousy man intercepted me ten feet from where Harry stood. He walked into my path, forcing me to come up short.

I wasn't accustomed to being touched the way he touched me and I didn't like it.

“The congressman is busy,” he said authoritatively. I ended up grabbing both of his wrists in my hands to shed him.

Harry was there and between us before I got a good look at the man's face. The heat from my anger burned my face.

“Stanley, this is Clay. He's like a son to me,” Harry said sternly. “Don't you have some managing to do, Stanley? I'm capable of protecting my own honor.”

Harry hugged me warmly, standing back to look at me. It wasn't our usual greeting in public but my anger subsided as fast as it flared. I didn't like being manhandled.

“I'm sorry, Clay. He's new. I'm not neglecting you on purpose. D.C. has been a zoo. You may have heard. I don't have any free time. I've got to leave before sunup in the morning to get back for more meetings.”

“That's why I wasn't letting you get away without saying hello to you, Harry. You look tired. You might want to take a day off,” I said.

“I'd take a week off if I could get away with it but I can't. They're playing my song. Great to see you, Clay. I leave as soon as I'm done speaking. I'll let you know when I'm going to be in town with time on my hands,” Harry said, going up the steps to the platform.

Of the three campaign appearances I was asked to make in '74, this was the most time I spent with Harry. In another minute his voice was penetrating the hall.

A short time later he introduced me and dashed past as I started up the steps. I don't remember what I said but I told my story and I went home.

I worried Harry was working too hard. Was he becoming too Washington? These were extraordinary times but Harry no longer looked like he was enjoying what he did.

We'd talked plenty and I knew I'd get time when he had time. He was doing what politicians did to stay in good standing with their voters. It put a strain on the reason why I was doing what I did.

*****

I went about my business as 1975 took hold and the government went back to reorganizing what they intended to get done under Ford.

*****

The collapse of South Vietnam a few months into the new year sent the U.S. position into turmoil.

The world watched as million dollar helicopters were pushed off aircraft carriers into the sea, once the fleeing Vietnamese who made America's occupation possible got to safety.

Men who would have won the election the U.S. canceled in the 50s, after we took over, now ran their country.

The Vietnamese truly ran Vietnam now.

One of the darker chapters in American history came to a close.

*****

The Masters of War had some explaining to do and the U.S. government was scrambling to justify the dead and the expense of fighting the Vietnam War.

The Masters of War got very quiet. They worked on how to have their wars and not get flack from the American people. It would be over a decade before they felt comfortable bombing people again.

For the second time in eight months the government went into a tizzy. What do you tell the people after you loose a war?

“We achieved peace with honor!”

Then we pushed our helicopters into the sea and split.

*****

Harry had specific concerns and interests. I had no restrictions on where my interests took me. I was a marine biologist who believed in what I was doing. Harry believed in me. I wondered if he continued to believe he could actually get change in Washington.

Even at twenty-five, knowing I was sequestered with a very powerful man, I didn't pull my punches. I knew Harry before he was a powerful man. That was the Harry I knew. I think he liked that I wasn't impressed with power or his wealth.

I was impressed with the sea and the things in it.

“Anything new in Washington?” I asked to lighten the mood.

Harry began to laugh heartily.

“I've been using you all wrong, Clayton. I should let you warm up the crowd for me. You are a funny man,” Harry said.

“I think I am fine telling the story I tell. Comedy has never been my forte.”

“No, you're a serious man. I once thought I was. I'm beginning to doubt I'm doing serious work. Our country is not being run by men with good hearts. They are not there with the best of intentions for the American people. Mostly they're there for the power and where it will take them,” Harry said, looking into his glass.

“And you know why I don't want to spend a lot of time there being interviewed by such men. I might be able to do some good in the Gulf. I'm not deluded enough to think I can change the minds of the men you just described, Harry.”

“I hope you don't include me in that indictment, Clayton.”

“Our understanding is, I knew you way back when. I see no reason to change it. You take care of my needs. What you do to get where you're going is your business. It's none of mine.”

“Except what you do allows me to do what I do, or try to do. The Florida boys are one thing. The Washington boys are on an entirely different level. They have ulterior motives for everything. If I want to get something done, I need to help them get what they want.”

“Speaking of getting things done, how'd that whole Vietnam thing turn out?”

Harry laughed so hard he had to put his drink down before he spilled it.

“When are you going to call me to testify? I'd like to know that.”

“Next year, Clay. We're still disorganized. The last year has been no picnic up there. What you hear here, magnify it a hundred times, and that's the pressure that's on us. Nothing will get done on the environment before next year. We'll keep our powder dry until then. I want to apologize again for our lack of communication. You didn't want to know what I was doing. It's been hectic to say the least.”

There was no ceremony that kept me from speaking openly to my boss. What I didn't expect was for the conversation to turn to the Aleksa's, which inevitably led to Ivan.

“I don't understand why the man would leave prime fishing grounds to fish for Chile,” Harry said.

He waited for Henry to refill his glass. He'd just brought us a tray of eatables and put it between us.

Henry took care to add ice cubes to Harry's glass before pouring equal amounts of branch water and bourbon on top of the cubes.

“You're American, Harry. Mr. Aleksa is naturalized. He's Lithuanian. His country betrayed him. Not Lithuania. He lost his son in a needless war. He decided he couldn't live in a country that did that. I believe Mr. Aleksa sees us as little better than the Soviets he escaped when he was a teen.”

“Still, his life was here. I know your father was offended by his leaving. There was no conversation. He simply left the cove and didn't come back.”

“I understood it. Like you, my father is old school. Being patriotic is ingrained in you. My generation doesn’t see going to someone else's country to kill the people there as noble. While we have done noble things, Harry, we are not doing them now. We are ruling the world. Vietnam is an example of what happens if you don't play ball.”

“As always, harsh, Clayton. I wouldn't be a party to us doing that.”

“You voted against funding the war? You voted not to keep sending more and more troops to Vietnam?”

“Speaking of Mr. Aleksa, you don't think he's coming back?”

“If Boris is found and comes home, his father might come home.”

“The fishing can't be that much better in Chile,” Harry said. “He might come home. He's been gone a long time.”

“Captain Popov said he's well respected and highly thought of in the fishing circles of South America.”

We hadn't talked about fishing before. The Aleksas rarely came up in our conversations, except to ask about Ivan. He hadn't done that in a while. Harry knew I got angry when ever Ivan came up. That didn't mean he didn't come up.

“And Ivan, I understand he thinks he's the only one who can find his brother, but after so long, I rarely hear from him. He might consider coming home to have a life,” I said, anger flaring.

“It's not like there's a phone booth on every corner in Southeast Asia, Clayton,” Harry said, taking a gulp of his drink. “You might want to cut him a little slack. It's a noble gesture, almost biblical in nature. I must say I've grown to admire Ivan's pluck.”

I watched Harry drink more bourbon. I watched him look at me. The silence gave me an indication that he realized he'd said too much.

“And you, congressman, sound like you know what you're talking about,” I said surprised.

“Are you asking me how I know what I'm talking about? I understand your anger more than you think. What I'm saying is, if you back off a bit, I think the situation will work out in your favor.”

“Do tell,” I said, listening.

“Ivan's doing the best he can to find Boris. I advised him to stay out of Southeast Asia. You know how well he listened? He doesn't think anyone cares enough about Boris to find him.”

Looking at Harry, I thought he may have had too much bourbon, but I'd never seen him drink too much. He was a measured man who stayed in control. The conversation turned to Ivan because he guided it onto the subject, letting me think it was my doing.

I forgot who I was talking to for only a minute. There was something Harry wanted to say if I let him.

“Harry, I am angry at Ivan. You say I shouldn't be because he's doing something honorable. I'm not angry about that. What angers me is how long he's been gone. Even when he does come home, he says little about what he's up to. The longer he's been out there, the more evasive he's gotten.”

Harry waited for me to finish. He considered what he would say.

“Sometimes there is nothing to say. I mean things move at a snails pace, the governments for instance. Nixon resigned a year ago and no one can tell you about the direction of the ship of state. Nixon controlled everything, Ford, not so much.”

“Why bring this up now, Harry? I mean the Aleksa's. Fishing? You know that takes me to Ivan. What's on your mind? I'm listening. I want to know what you're trying to tell me.”

“You go to the head of the class. I didn't come home to talk shop. I came home to talk to you. Yes, I'm on recess, but for the last year, we can't afford to stray far from Washington.”

“I get the idea,” I said.

“It's all part of the insanity going on in D.C.”

“You do have me confused now. What's Ivan got to do with it.”

“I should have talked to you about Ivan last year. Now it's this year. It's not something to talk about on the phone. Phones are not secure. Being too busy means I've let this go too long without having a sit down with you.”

“I have a little trouble when you know more about what's going on with Ivan than I do, and I have the feeling you do, Harry. What do you have to do with Ivan? A straight answer would work nicely here.”

“I'm asking you to lighten up so when Ivan comes home, there is a chance you two can recover what's been lost. I know certain things that make me think he deserves that.”

“What I know is, the last time I saw Ivan was on my twenty-fourth birthday. He came in the middle of the night. He left before dawn. Not what I call an informative visit. What do you know that I don't know?”

“I know why he can't be informative or home,” Harry said with certainty in his voice.

“He'd gotten into what he called a situation and I haven't seen him since. He told me he'd be out of touch for two years, until 1976, Harry. He's been true to his word. Do you know something?”

“I'm a United States Congressman. I know everything. The question is not, what do I know? The question is, what do I know that I can tell you?”

“You sound like Ivan. How do you know what Ivan Aleksa is up to? We can start there.”

“As I said, a congressman knows many things. We hear things.”

”That's isn't how you know where Ivan Aleksa is, is it, Harry? You've talked to him. He's got himself involved with someone over there and you know who it is, don't you? You going to lie to me about it or are you going to tell me what you have on your mind?”

“I've never lied to you, Clay. I'm prohibited from telling you certain things,” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you remember the card I gave you for Ivan?”

“Yes.”

“Being a congressman offers me some latitude in many things. Say someone sees a card like that in the possession of someone they have in custody. It makes them wonder. They have no idea why this particular person has that particular card on them, but it presents a lot of possibilities.”

“Go on,” I said.

“I can tell you that he's safe. Yes, I have talked to him. I've had occasion to talk to the people who he's ...doing business with. I talked to the people over there who by chance found my card on Ivan. I have a general knowledge of his situation. He's working for his government. He isn't in danger. I know that's little consolation, but that's what I can tell you.”

“Let me get this straight. We pushed those helicopters off those aircraft carriers and those aircraft carriers left Vietnam in April, right?”

“That would be the official version of events.”

“But Ivan has fallen into the hands of Americans who caught him breaking into Vietnam?”

“A war zone. There are laws forbidding it.”

“We're still over there messing in those people's business?”

“Your description of Ivan's situation is accurate. Draw your own conclusions about the rest of it. He's doing work for your government. I can't discuss whether we do or don't don't have a presence there.”

“Didn't we learn anything? Why don't we mind our own business?”

“It is our business. Hasn't anyone told you?”

“Right!” I answered. “I keep coming back to the helicopters.”

“Unfortunate it got such wide coverage.”

“He's searching for Boris, right?” I asked.

Harry looked at me. He didn't want to lie and he didn't want to answer. \He was thinking as he shook the ice cubes in his otherwise empty glass.

“I can't tell you anything specific but I can describe a possible scenario that might be true of Ivan. There are things I know that I can't tell you, Clay. Deciding what to say to clarify your understanding of the situation is tricky. I'll ask you not to repeat any of this conversation to anyone.”

“I understand, congressman.”

“It's not the details of his circumstances that are important. I know who he is working for and he's safe. His search for Boris is on hold, but he is advantaged by working for these particular people.”

“Advantaged!” I said.

“I've talked to Ivan recently. Knowing his feelings has me searching for a way to reassure you that while his situation sounds desperate, he's probably in the best hands for him to get done what he went over there to do. He gives them a little of his time and he gets a little of their help.”

“A little time?”

“I will say that it's known that a congressman has Ivan's back. This provides him a layer of protection most people in his circumstances wouldn't have. While your feelings for Ivan run deeper than I can understand, I am trying to set you at ease about his prospects.”

“My feelings?” I said.

“It's obvious you and Ivan are close. I've understood this for a while, Clay. Most childhood friends gradually go their separate ways. You and Ivan haven't done that. I don't get the impression you will go your separate ways if there is a way to avoid it.”

“Thanks, Harry. I think. It's not easy staying friends with someone who is never around.”

My anger was in every word.

“And your feelings for Ivan still run deep in spite of it? You can't deny it, Clay. It's why you're so angry with him.”

“Why am I suddenly uncomfortable with you, congressman?”

“If we can get through this next few minutes, you'll feel better. It's no picnic for me. I have an advantage. I intend to see you smile before the evening is out.”

“You sound like a man who knows what he's talking about. I've dealt with this for next to forever. I believed he'd tire of the search and come home. I don't believe it any more. Now, you're the believer and I'm in the dark.”

“That's where you have the advantage over me. You speak from your heart. You have a belief in the goodness of man. It's your innocence, Clayton. It always shines through. I depend on you for that. I know your truth is as pure as any truth I'll know. I'm jaded by wealth and power. That doesn't mean I don't try to do good.”

“A little truth would work right now, congressman. I've stretched my faith in Ivan as far as it's going. He needs to meet me half way. If you have something to say about that, I'd like to hear it.”

Harry squirmed. He had more to say but didn't say it. Squirming was easier. He was made uncomfortable with what he knew.

I calculated what had been said and what Ivan might have said.

“He told you? I'll be a son of a bitch,” I said abruptly. “When did he tell you? When did you talk?” I asked.

I felt betrayed by both of them.

“Clayton, calm down. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a Troglodyte. The idea that people are different isn't a news flash. I'm on your side. If you love Ivan, I'm in your corner. I'm invested in your future and the brighter it is, the happier you are, the happier I am. You can't doubt that.”

“I don't doubt that, Harry. That's not the point. I live in the Troglodyte capitol of the world. Ivan had no right telling you.”

“Ivan sees me as playing a roll in reassuring you. He understands your anger and he thinks hearing about what's going on from me might help you accept his predicament.”

“Predicament?” I blurted.

“He broke a law. They could send him to jail. The deal he made keeps him out of jail.”

“You couldn't do anything?”

“He asked for my help. He told me it involved you. I resisted that idea and asked him how it could possibly involve you. He told me you were lovers and he wanted me to reassure you. He worries about you worrying about him, and he knows you do. If you know the situation, he was sure you'd feel a little better about his... predicament. There was no one else, Clayton.”

“He had no right telling you about my love life. You couldn't help him without getting into our relationship? What did that have to do with it?”

“Until he told me, I wasn't going to tell you anything. I'm a sitting member of congress, Clay. Any time I make an inquiry, it can upset someone's applecart. I can't jump into the middle of another government agencies business. It's not done. I wouldn't have done what I did for Ivan if you hadn't been involved.”

“He shouldn't have told you,” I said, holding firm.

“He wasn't in a position to consult you. What surprised me is that I didn't see it before. When I met you, Ivan and you were inseparable. Everyone told me you two were inseparable. Your father. His father. I was surprised that I wasn't surprised when Ivan said it.”

“You don't need to know. It's none of your business, Harry. It's a private affair. You're my boss. You're the guy that runs the show. I don't ask about your love life. It's none of my business. You don't get that?”

“Would you be bored if you did. I'm a politician. I run the conservancy. I don't have a love life.”

Harry took a deep breath, wanting to get off the spot he was on. He stood, emptying his melted ice cubes at the bar. He added more cubes and poured Canada Dry ginger ale on top. He held out the container of tea. I nodded I needed a refill. My mouth was dry and my glass was empty.

He came to get my glass, added ice cubes, filled it with tea, returning it to me. He went back for his drink and sat across from me. It was after eleven.

We sat silent as he considered how to say what came next. There was obviously more. I didn't know if would hear any more. The longer we sat, the less I expected to hear anything else.

I was worn out by what had already been said but I wanted to hear it all. If anyone knew who Ivan had gotten himself involved with, it was Harry.

Chapter 24

The Underbelly

Sitting with Harry in his study, the conversation about my appearing before his committee, we somehow ended up talking about Ivan. It wasn't my favorite subject. His absences had grown in duration, and his returns home had gone from seldom to none.

Harry sipped the liquid in his glass and he studied me, measuring what he wanted to say against what he couldn't tell me. “You haven't figured out where you stand, have you, Clay?” Harry asked, intending to tell me.

I was all ears.

“From the time I first saw you come out of the Gulf, you were the future of this conservancy. Who I am, what I do, depends on what you do. You're still playing to my tune. You'll play a song of your own soon if you aren't already.”

“It's my hope you'll allow me to continue to be part of the Clayton Olson show. You're moving to center stage now. When I call you in front of my committee, you'll be introduced as an authority, an expert, a man who has Congressman Harry McCallister's ear,” he said.

“You'll tell your story. People will listen. They'll believe you. You're a man of science revealing your findings. Because you speak of repair and renewal, people will support you. Many will want to help you make their world a better place.”

“I'd like to believe all that's true, Harry. I don't see many people volunteering to quit throwing their garbage into the Gulf,” I said.

“Once your face is on the news and your voice of reason speaks to the people, you'll be a made man. People are going to seek you out to find out what they need to do to help, because there is nothing in it for you. You work for me, a politician, but people know I'm not in Washington trying to line my pockets or feather my nest. I can live a life of leisure on my beach if I want. Instead, I've become an advocate for our environment, which strengthens your position even further,” he said.

“You aren't wealthy or powerful but you care about the sea and the things in it. You'll make others care too. They'll feel your passion. With credits like Bill Payne in your portfolio, whatever you say will be accepted as truth,” he said, his words tapering off. “In a way, Clayton, you are wealthier and more powerful than I'll ever be, and you get to do it your way. You don't have the handicap of being a politician. Politicians are suspect, because so many put their own interests first.”

“You won't need me, Clay. I hope it won't change our friendship. I've done my best to meet your needs, but whether we continue being a team is up to you,” he said, stopping to take a drink.

“As you know, I have no hold on you. I've never tied you to the conservancy. I did my best to make it your home, but the only thing holding us together is our word. Whenever you decide you want to move on, I won't stand in your way. I feel lucky that you've stayed long enough to help make the conservancy viable again,” he said thoughtfully.

“My father, God rest his soul, hadn't kept up with the times. The conservancy wasn't conserving anything when I took over. I had no ability to put it on the map, until I saw you and heard your story.”

This had never crossed my mind. The idea that one day I'd know more than Harry about the environment never occurred to me. I was part of the conservancy. I was part of what Harry did. I was part of who he was. I wouldn't know how to go about it on my own.”

Everything I'd become, Harry made me. I'd never leave the conservancy, unless I decided to give up my work. I'd made that calculation before I got my degree.

I was loyal to Harry. He'd never given me a reason not to be.

“What's this got to do with Ivan? You've changed the subject on me. I'm not saying I don't appreciate your vote of confidence on my career, Harry, but you have information I need. I'd like to talk about that. As far as my work is concerned, I'm not interested in going anywhere. I'm happy here.”

Harry's steady gaze was on me. He had to be careful how he said what he intended to tell me.

“I'm trying to figure out a way to tell you without telling you more than you should know. In this instance, because it's you, Clay, I'm going to shoot from the hip. I'm asking you not to repeat what I'm about to say. I'm going to give it to you straight.”

“I can't imagine repeating anything you're going to tell me.”

“Ivan's worried about you. I told him that you are a successful scientist with an important job. Your importance increases while he is gone. You have the conservancy for a platform but I told him what I told you. You're about to go to the head of the class in environmental circles, because of how smart you are about the topic. He was quite impressed but not surprised. It made him smile when he heard it.”

“We don't talk much when he does stop to see me.”

“He's comfortable with me because he knows I'm close to you, Clay. He doesn't have anyone to talk to about you. He's worried you won't be there when he comes home.”

“When it's over, Harry. When I walk away from this, I'll do it here at the Sanible Island Conservancy. I'll do it with you at my side. It's not about me. It isn't about you. It's about what we need to do to preserve the Gulf. There's one thing I'm certain about, I don't want to be anywhere else. This is my home. Ivan knows where to find me.”

“Which brings us back to Ivan. If you're going to be here, he plans to be up the beach,” Harry said. “He intends to come home. He intends to come back to you. That's what he told me.”

“He is far away. He's been far away for far too long. He rarely comes home. When he comes home, he can't wait to leave. That's the point. He has a lot of nerve telling you about us. He has no right to do that, Harry. If I wanted you to know, I'd tell you.”

“You are a smart man. I ain't no Ann Landers, but you're way off base. That's why he told me what he told me. He can't talk to you about this and now he's lost in the weeds over there.”

“What happened to all those people who were at dinner with us?”

Harry waved his hand as if he made them disappear.

“My campaign manager takes care of those people. He knows what they want to hear and that's what they hear. I didn't come home to meet with them, Clay. I came home to meet with you. It's been on my agenda for almost a year. I couldn't put it off any longer. They were here so I had a reason to invite you. I am a politician after all.”

“You knew we were going to talk about Ivan?”

“We had to talk about him. Ivan came to me with this. He isn't worried about Ivan. He's worried about Clay. It wasn't difficult to see Ivan was in a quandary over you. He doesn't know what to do.”

I hadn't tried to see our relationship from Ivan's viewpoint. I didn't think Ivan worried about anything but Boris.

“I'm listening. I'm not angry with you. You're trying to help.”

“If we both wake up dead in the morning, don't say I didn't warn you. I'll say it again, you repeat what I'm about to tell you to no one. For all I know they're listening to us right now.”

'Who?”

“Oh, no, I haven't lost my mind quite yet. I'll give you... certain details that will allow you to come to your own conclusions. There are things I know I can't speak about. It's a matter of national security. It's a matter of your security, not to mention mine. If you don't know enough to get into trouble, you won't get into trouble.”

“I'll agree with that. Give me what you've got, Harry.”

“It's what Ivan wants,” Harry said. “I'll try to explain the situation as best I can.”

“We did leave Vietnam, didn't we?”

“We have a presence. The presence is who Ivan crossed paths with over there. Remember my card? I wrote my private number in Washington on the back?”

“I remember the card.”

“Ivan tried to get into Vietnam,” Harry said. “He crossed paths with men left over from what was called the Phoenix program. It was a combination of military and civilian intelligence in Vietnam.”

“Sounds dangerous,” I said.

“I don't know what they do and all I know is that they were there when I went to congress and they're still there, although it's remnants of the program I mentioned,” he said. “When Ivan fell into their hands, he had the card on him. They found it. They called my private number shortly thereafter, which began a bit of intrigue. The FBI got involved, because when I picked up, the phone, no one spoke. Someone was there. I could hear him breathe. I yelled into the phone, 'I'm a United States Congressman and you just got your tit in a very big ringer, asshole,'” Harry said, taking another drink.

“I immediately called my chief of staff who reported it to the Metropolitan Police. My chief of staff was alarmed. He said, 'By not speaking and staying on the line, they were send you a message.' He perceived it to be a threat and they put a tap on my phone to see what turned up. They started checking my incoming calls. Do you know how fast a call from Southeast Asia to the Capitol of the United States jumps out at an investigator.”

“Threatening you?” I asked.

“I told my chief of staff about Ivan. He was the only one with my private number who could have been compromised. It was why I wanted Ivan to keep that card. I was sending a message if Ivan fell into the hands of the authorities. They'd immediately want to know what Ivan was doing with a congressman's private number in his pocket,” Harry said. “Common sense.”

“So those Phoenix people do answer to someone, don't they?” I asked.

“A man in the field, not necessarily the brightest bulb in the package, sees the card. He can't resist dialing the number to see if it is a congressman's number. He's leaving a trail a mile wide and two miles high, but he doesn't think about that. He is only thinking about the number on the back of that card. That's how I got involved in what Ivan is doing.”

“I'm confused. What do they want with Ivan. He's nobody.”

“At the time I gave him the card, I was thinking Ivan might get arrested with the anti war folks. It worked just as well once he went over there,” Harry said.

“That's how you and Ivan got together?”

“That's how. As soon as they reported to their handlers that they called a congressman's number, it got back here to the appropriate agency head. When someone makes a mess, it must be cleaned up. Inquiries were made, creating a necessity for me to be informed about the mysterious phone call,” he said.

“Two days later a call came into my office asking me to clear my schedule to meet with the director of an agency that shall remain unnamed. The FBI came charging in, bugged all the phones, and bugged my private office. Two agents took up positions in an adjoining office. These boys like nothing better than to get something on one of the bosses.”

“I got a call from the director at two o'clock. He asked me to meet him on the point at Haines Point. Alone! He knows what happens when a mysterious call comes in to a congressman's private lines. The FBI would be all over it immediately. He knows not to hang his ass out but at the same time he needed to clear the air with me.”

“What was it about?” I asked, unable to keep up.

“Ivan Aleksa. I was to be dropped off at a spot in plain view of the point. The road was closed. Construction barricades blocked access by vehicles. I walked to where he stood,” Harry said. “He knew I knew the rules. It was polite.”

“Ivan is mixed up with our government? I can't imagine anything more humiliating for him. He's not a company man.”

“He asked questions. I answered them. He wanted to know what Ivan was doing with my private number. I explained about Boris. I knew Ivan to be a resourceful young man. He was determined to bring his brother home. He laughed and shook his head at Ivan's audacity. Then he said something odd. 'He doesn't know how close he is.' I didn't follow up. He'd given me something I didn't expect. It wasn't an accident,” Harry said.

“'He's a foolish boy,' he told me with contempt in his voice. I said, ''He's a foolish boy who made it to Vietnam on his own. Had you not intercepted him, he might have tracked his brother down by now.' This got a long thoughtful look out of him. 'My people want to use this Aleksa fellow,' he said. 'If you have no objections. My man in charge called your office without checking for instructions first. I must apologize. Help these days isn't what it once was. He's a good boy but too curious. My people are in a position where this Aleksa fellow could be useful. We need someone to listen to the chatter now that most of our people have been pulled out. Nothing difficult or dangerous, just a convenient pair of ears.'”

I thought about what Harry said. Ivan told me he'd be out of touch for two years. At least I knew he was telling me the truth. Harry corroborated what Ivan said. I felt relieved and at the same time the entire affair disturbed me.

“That was it?” I asked.

“I asked him, 'What's in it for Mr. Aleksa if he cooperates?' He said, 'There will be a nice salary. He won't go to jail.' I gave him a long look and he almost blushed. He knew exactly what I was going to say. 'If he's useful, and his missing brother can be located, my people will see to it they are reunited if it's possible.' That's all there was to it. I shook his hand and walked away.

“When I looked back over my shoulder, no one was there. I think he came by boat and left the same way. I didn't think to look for a boat, but he just disappeared. By the time I reached the barricades, a work crew was taking them away.”

“Like in the movies,” I said.

“Just like James Bond. Every angle had been considered.”

I was accustomed to Ivan not telling me anything. I'd learned more in fifteen minutes with Harry than I'd learned from Ivan in seven years. I liked none of it, but I trusted Harry and he wasn't worried.

“So they were checking Ivan out? Why? They had his ass.”

“Sloppy. I'd never have met the head man if he didn't need to clean up the mess. He knew the FBI was on it. A phone call like that to a high ranking government official sets off alarms. It's always viewed as a threat. It needed to be cleaned up.”

“And...? You saw Ivan? You said you talked to him.”

“I got a call from over there. I won't go into details. They explained the call and said that Ivan was guilty of violating several laws concerning illegally entering a war zone. I asked him if he hadn't received a phone call from his boss who explained who I was and told him that I was more than a little familiar with laws governing my constituents.”

“Don't they read the paper? The war's over, Harry. What's going on over there and who the hell do they think they are? Ivan's an American citizen.”

“I can't tell you what I don't know. I've told you too much already. You do remember when Ivan came home last summer? That's what the director's man in Southeast Asia gave up for calling my number a second time. Ivan wouldn't have been allowed to come home otherwise.”

“He didn't say anyone knew he was home but me,” I said. “I never told anyone he was home. He came in the middle of the night and he left at dawn. I haven't heard from him since. He told me a version of what you just told me.”

“He was in Washington first. I was told that Ivan agreed to do work for the man who'd called me. I didn't want to get into the middle of whatever was going on, but what I could do was ask that Ivan appear in my office before they put him to work. He should check with his boss if he was thinking of refusing me. I wanted to know Ivan was doing the work willingly. I wanted Ivan to know I had his back. He wouldn't go to jail if he refused to work for them. I wanted to see they hadn't physically abused him. They told me they'd have to call back. When they did, Ivan was already on a military flight back to the States. He was in my office the following afternoon.”

“It's basically what he told me, leaving out the stop in Washington,” I said.

“I wanted the people who intercepted Ivan to know a U.S. Congressman was watching over him. I let them know I didn't approve of him being over there but I understood why he went. It wasn't to cause trouble for our government.”

“Thank you, Harry,” I said, suddenly drained.

“It's while we were flying here from Washington, which is how Ivan got to your house, Ivan became quite emotional. He'd been through an ordeal. They'd treated him roughly at first. He said he thought he was hurting you. By coming home he kept upsetting your life and I'm taking him to your door,” Harry said. “He didn't want to cause you more pain but he couldn't stay away from you. I may not know much about love, Clay, but if that boy isn't in love with you, I'll resign my seat in congress. He's tormented by being away from you.”

“He comes in the middle of the night and leaves before dawn,” I said. “He could at least stay to talk to me.”

“He tries not to come home. He thinks he's upsetting your life. He leaves that way so he doesn't upset everyone in the house. It hurts him being there, knowing he has to leave.”

“He chooses to leave, Harry,” I said. “He could come home.”

“You believe that?”

“No. I know he loves Boris. I know he intends to find him. It hurts, Harry and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“He knows you still love him but he doesn't know if you know how much he loves you. It's an impossible situation. I'm helpless to do anything but tell you what I know and hope it helps.”

“Go on,” I said, wanting to hear more and not knowing if there was more.

“He's getting closer to Boris, Clay. If you told me he had a shot in hell at finding his brother five years ago, I'd have laughed in your face. Now Ivan is close. I don't know how close. The people over there know more than they say. I hear in their voices, they think Boris is alive and still in Southeast Asia,” Harry said.

“I think they admire Ivan for going to get his brother. If they can help him, I think they intend to do that.”

*****

“Thanks, Harry. I think I'll head home. I'm exhausted,” I said, going to the door.

“Clay, I may not be Ann Landers, but if someone loved me the way Ivan loves you, I'd wait for how ever long it took. He's going to come home to you. He will keep his promise.”

I smiled.

Harry smiled back.

*****

It made me feel good to think Ivan would come home to me.

To say my first meeting with Harry in a year was enlightening wouldn't describe it. What he did was give me an opportunity to hit the reset on my feelings toward Ivan.

Harry also gave me another reason to be angry with my lover. I didn't need more of those. My anger with Ivan was close to the surface. It came from having so much to do and I had to do it alone.

I'd gone to Harry's thinking he would give me a pep talk on my pending appearance in Washington. Instead, he told me that my testimony would be my declaration on the Gulf of Mexico in particular and the environment in general.

What I said would be my professional opinion as a marine biologist, which didn't take much preparation. I'd been in, on, and under the Gulf for over ten years and I'd been developing a story that changed as I learned more about what I was talking about.

I came away from Harry's with a new perspective on my relationship with Ivan. I didn't own him. I only loved him. Because I loved him, I waited for him. Harry said I wouldn't regret waiting.

If Ivan didn't return to me, it would be his loss.

This didn't make my anger go away. It became easier to manage, once Harry said what he said. If someone told me five years ago that Harry would be the one to set me straight on Ivan, I'd have laughed in his face.

I wasn't angry with Harry because he knew Ivan and I were lovers. I knew Harry was on my side. It's the idea Ivan told him without consulting me. We lived in a time and a place where information like that could end a career and damage you irreparably.

I had my son, my family, and work that depended on cooperation with many kinds of people to consider.

Being gay wasn't something you dared to let get out.

*****

For Christmas 1975 I gave Dylan new snorkeling gear. As fast as he was growing, the first, less expensive gear, had become too small. Before we ate breakfast Christmas morning, I had to take him to the marina to try it out. I didn't take him out in the Seaswirl. We'd have plenty of time for that during the holidays and it was Christmas.

We snorkeled off the pier at the end of the row of twenty-four slips. I'd never gone in the water that close to shore in the cove. The sheen on the water caught me by surprise. There were two dozen boats in slips and the fishing fleet was anchored nearby. The excess gasoline and diesel fuel made the water less than pristine and I'd learned something new.

I went to the lab and back to the marina to take water samples later that day. I'd keep a running record on what I found out from routine checks on the cove's water quality.

At six and a half, Dylan was growing like a weed. He was getting taller and who knew the obvious would become so obvious so soon? He not only resembled Ivan, he had the same build as his father.

Everyone at the conservancy house knew the truth now but it wasn't mentioned. Dylan was his own person. Any similarities to his father were natural.

From time to time my heart skipped a beat when I looked at Dylan and I saw Ivan. It startled me more than once.

I thought of how proud Sunshine would be of Dylan. I could smile when I thought of her now. She'd been a supernova I experienced before she burned out.

Lucy gave Dylan books for Christmas. I'd remarked we'd gone through most of the Hardy Boys books I could find and she took the opportunity to give him a leather bound copy of Moby Dick by Herman Melville and the Leather Stocking Tales by James Fenimore Cooper.

Mama and Pop gave him clothes and books. He always needed clothes these days. He'd outgrown his new school clothes I bought him in August before Christmas.

I took Dylan with me to the Christmas parties at the conservancy, J.K.'s, Harry's, and at Twila's house. This was the first year I was comfortable taking Dylan around people who drank. He took it all in stride. J.K.'s was one of his favorite places and the people there loved it when I brought Dylan.

Twila's son, Taggart, now thirteen, took Dylan fishing with him while Twila and I caught up. I'd never eaten so much as I ate at Twila's that Christmas afternoon. Twila's cooking rivaled Mama's for taste and appeal. She'd mastered the art of making desserts.

We were home in time for snacks and to enjoy the Christmas tree in the foyer as Mama and Pop opened their presents.

Pop once again brought in a substantial tree. Lucy decorated the tree, the stairs, chandelier, and railings on each landing. With the lights off and the tree lit, the foyer was alive with glitter and color.

Dinner at Twila's was at one and Mama had dinner ready at seven. It was just enough time between meals to allow me the maximum consumption of calories in a single day. While I was a man of moderation, over the holidays I ate what I wanted when I wanted it, and I was still able to burn off most excessive eating at twenty-five.

*****

When we got to Harry's that evening, as usual, he was surrounded by a group of older men. They were dressed to the nines. Dylan and I were in jeans and matching sweaters.

A cool breeze had picked up out of the northwest late that afternoon and it felt chilly after a very warm December.

When Harry saw me with Dylan, who he hadn't seen in two years, he came over. His eyes never left Dylan's. Harry knew what the people at the conservancy house knew. His expression was priceless once he put two and two together.

“Your father works with me,” Harry said. “I run the conservancy. I'm Harry.”

“You're the congressman,” Dylan told him, cocking his head as he looked Harry over. “Are you a crook?”

“What?” Harry said surprised by Dylan's question.

“Nixon said he wasn't one. Turned out he was. I don't suppose you'd tell me if you were one.”

“Probably not. You are your father's son, aren't you?” Harry asked a question of his own.

“I'm my Daddy's son, not my father's,” Dylan said.

Ouch!

“I see. I got you a present, Dylan,” Harry said.

Dylan turned his head to look at me.

“Go ahead. He's OK.”

Harry had purchased a set of books on the founding fathers for kids. We hadn't read much history.

“Daddy says these guys would roll over in their graves if they saw what was going on in the government these days.”

“Your Daddy is right. I wonder how it got this way.”

“What way is that?” Dylan asked.

Harry laughed.

“Lucy put him up to this,” Harry said with a grin.

“She does influence him,” I said. “I don't remember saying that about the founding fathers.”

“It's a pleasure to know you, Dylan,” Harry said.

“Daddy said not to lie. I don't know you well enough to have an opinion, ...but Daddy says you're OK.”

Harry couldn't stop grinning at my very serious son.

“I've got to get back,” Harry said. “We'll do the Gulf Club one day next week. Do bring Dylan. I need the youth vote.”

Harry walked away.

“You made a hit with Harry, Dylan.”

“Why's that?” Dylan asked.

“Ask your Aunt Lucy. She'll explain it. You are direct and even when you aren't predisposed to shoot the breeze with a stranger, you leave an impression on him.”

Dylan looked at me curiously.

“Shoot the breeze?” He asked.

“Engage in small talk,” I said.

“Oh! Can we put these in the car. They're heavy,” he said, indicating the books.

We didn't stay long. I merely wanted to touch base with Harry. While doing it, I learned again how extraordinary Dylan was.

I was lucky to be his Daddy.

*****

Chapter 25

Talkers and Listeners

Harry scheduled me to appear in front of his committee early in April. He flew home to fly me to Washington. I'd take a commercial flight home. I'd stay two nights. He wanted me to stay three.

Harry landed on the field behind his house before eleven in the morning. Reginald brought him to the conservancy house to pick me up for lunch at the Gulf Club.

Harry spent most of the time reassuring me about my appearance in front of his committee. He told me that most of the two days would be spent seeing the sights and enjoying Washington's best features. While we talked, Harry relaxed after the morning trip home.

We dropped Harry off to sleep while the plane was refueled and serviced for the flight back to D.C. We'd leave that night, landing at Hyde field, a few miles outside of D.C., and I'd be at the hotel before morning rush hour started.

*****

I'd never flown before the trip to Washington in April 1976.

As we sat at the end of the runway between the conservancy and Harry's house, he revved the engines before letting the plane loose to move down the runway and leap into the clear evening air.

With a full moon I could see the water below as Harry went straight west and flew out over the Gulf.

Setting his course for north northeast, the hum of the engines became relaxing as Harry checked all the gauges before he left his local airspace. We were six hours from setting down at Hyde Field in Maryland. We took off and landed on grass.

I was too excited to sleep. We stayed over the water for some time. When we crossed the coastline of Florida to the north, we were where the panhandle joins the peninsula of the state and still moving north northeast. We still had four hours left in the air.

We landed next to a new Lincoln Mark IV. I regarded it a beautiful car. I'd entertained the idea of buying one and giving Teddy's Chevy to Lucy. Harry's Lincoln was dark green with tan leather interior. It was a sweet ride.

We drove around the Capitol and down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Mayflower Hotel. It was just beginning to be daylight as Harry handed his keys to the man on duty at the front door.

“I'll be having breakfast with Mr. Olson. I'll need my car in about an hour. Don't bury it, son,” Harry said, handing him a twenty.

“No, sir,” the man said with a smile. “Enjoy your breakfast, sir. Your car will be ready two minutes after you come out that door.”

We went inside before Harry told me the plan.

“I'll order for both of us and have it delivered to your room, Clay. We'll eat there. I have a few things to tell you and since I'm changing your room, we can be free to talk.”

“OK, Harry, whatever you say. I hope I've got time for a nap.”

“Plenty of time. I have a little business this morning. I'll pick you up and we'll see the city and have dinner at the Flagship on Main Avenue. Seafood. You'll love it. Anything special for breakfast. I'll order when I tell them to change your room.”

“Plenty of coffee. Pancakes maybe and some fruit.”

Harry spoke with the man at the desk and brought back the key. We went to the tenth floor and entered my room. I was glad I wasn't paying for it. It was a nice room.

“Ivan!” Harry said.

“You're way ahead of me. I haven't heard a word. You said to expect none.”

“I talked to the man who runs the agency where Ivan is doing his work. He's safe and not doing anything dangerous. They don't use amateurs for anything difficult. Ivan simply has a good profile for what they need. There is news on Boris I wanted to give you. I'm told there is verification that he is alive in in Southeast Asia.”

“After all this time, Harry. Are you sure?”

“I'm not sure but the man I spoke with is sure and he says they've discovered men who know where he is. Ivan's work requires him to be in one place for some time. Since he will be in the same place, they've been poking around trying to find Boris for Ivan. They're in the business of information and finding a missing U.S. serviceman isn't out of their bailiwick if doing so scores them some points with someone.”

This was as close to a confirmation as had come my way. Ivan held out the hope his brother was still alive. Someone had told Harry he likely was. Maybe Ivan would bring Boris home after all.

I didn't know how to feel. Could this be coming to an end at last?

“Why are you telling me this? Why would someone tell you that?”

“For one thing, I wasn't told not to tell you, but as you see, I wasn't about to tell you until I was in a spot I knew hadn't been bugged.”

“Harry, why would someone bug you. You're a congressman.”

“The people I'm dealing with take secrecy very seriously. I know enough to know they don't take chances. I have information they gave me and told not to give to anyone. That gives them a reason to listen to my conversations.”

“Someone who should know what's going on told you Boris was alive?”

“He's alive and living over there somewhere. They are satisfied it is Boris.”

“Oh my God! Ivan doesn't know?”

“No! I get the impression that in order for him to find out there will be more wheeling and dealing. Ivan will need to give something to get something.”

“To get Boris?”

“Yes.”

“Those bastards. Hasn’t he been through enough? They can make a family whole again and instead of doing it they want to deal.”

“I can't tell you what I don't know. Boris is alive and they will eventually tell Ivan where he is. I don't know what they'll want from him for the information. I was not told I couldn't tell anyone this, but you can't tell anyone. Not only will Ivan lose the chance to find his brother but he might be in danger if someone thinks their secrets aren't secret any more. I can't prove that's true. I suspect it's true. Especially you can't tell Ivan if he should contact you.”

“The plane? The car? You couldn't talk then?”

“No. I don't trust my phones. I know too much about the people Ivan is dealing with to trust them. I don't trust anything that sits unattended for long periods. I do a lot of business walking the halls of the Capitol. People who talk too much tend to disappear in this town. I'm careful. I don't talk turkey anywhere that may not be secure.”

“A U.S. Congressman can just disappear?”

“Not likely, but there's a first time for everything. There are other ways to let a congressman know they're on someone's radar screen. I've played nice and told Ivan to cooperate. Do what he agreed to do. I had no way of knowing that they'd actively put feelers out for information on Boris,” he said.

“I'm assuming they told me about Boris as an act of good faith. They want me to know Ivan is in good hands. Ivan has the kind of appearance that allows him to blend in. Just a face in the crowd.”

“You believe this? He's just sitting around listening to what other people have to say?”

“It's what I was told and it's consistent with what these people do. They didn't need to tell me anything. I thought it might let you rest easier. Don't expect me to put you up in the Mayflower every time I want to talk to you.”

“OK, Harry. Whatever you say.”

*****

Harry planned my testimony for April. He wanted me to see the cherry blossoms, especially surrounding the Tidal Basin. We drove out to Haines Point and he showed me the spot where his clandestine meeting with the man who had no name took place.

The weather was warm for Washington but a bit cool for my taste. Harry explained the plan to take me to Mt. Vernon, Fort Washington, and Great Falls. He'd give me a tour of the Capitol and the Sam Rayburn Building.

The trip to the White House to meet President Nixon was off. Harry knew President Ford from the House of Representatives. They weren't close and Ford wasn't as keen on the environment.

I enjoyed the insider's tour of D.C. I would have several hours to explore the Mall and the museums once I gave my testimony. I'd speak first after lunch and Harry would be involved with the committee and other witnesses until late in the day.

He would make sure I would be done within an hour.

Harry had orchestrated my career. He couldn't orchestrate the goings on in Washington and so my testimony came about a year after he originally planned it. It was a year when I became seasoned and poised in front of an audience.

A year before I'd have been a lot more apprehensive than I was by April of 1976.

*****

We spent the following morning in Harry's office and he took me through the Capitol. He explained what he'd say before he introduced me. No one was going to question my credentials or if what I had to say had credence. It was choreographed like a dance.

I'd been well prepared for my testimony by years of conversation with Harry and Bill Payne. I'd done appearances before businessmen and donors for several years. I knew the Gulf and the things in it.

Harry took me through the Capitol on the way to lunch. We ate in the congressional lunchroom before my testimony. As thirsty as I was, I didn't drink anything with my meal.

By the time I sat in front of the environmental committee, I still had to pee. I wondered if if it might be a nervous reaction to my stress.

That wasn't the half of it. As Harry was calling the committee to order, there was a disturbance in back of the room. I looked back to see Bill Payne speaking with the Sgt. At Arms.

So much for my expertise. I'd just been trumped. I had that sinking feeling in my stomach. Everything I knew flashed through my brain all at once. I needed to be on my game.

“It's OK, Barry. He's safe. I know him.”

Bill came to the table and I stood and shook his hand. He hugged me in front of every one. We hadn't seen each other in 1976. He'd been in the South Atlantic since New Years.

“Excuse me, Mr. Chairman, my plane got delayed at Kennedy. I'm sorry.”

“No problem, Bill. Welcome back. Glad you could make it,” Harry said, sounding delighted.

I was always happy to see Bill but now I was a redundancy. There's nothing I could say he wouldn't say first and with more authority.

I didn't feel nervous until Bill showed up and then I feared making a fool out of myself. Harry didn't warn me.

“Thank you for attending this session of the environmental committee. We're going to hear from Clayton Olson, marine biologist from the Sanibel Island Conservancy first.”

Everyone smiled and nodded pleasantly at Harry mentioning his conservancy like it wasn't his.

“Mr. Olson, you've been in the Gulf for a long time. Can you give us a rundown on your experience and then give us a bird's eye view on your opinion of the general health and welfare of the environment you're involved with.”

It was a lot of words to ask me to tell my story. I began at the beginning. I talked for well over a half an hour and no one interrupted me. It was far easier than dealing with the Florida Boys. The mention of plastic and petroleum being a problem didn't stir this committee.

“Thank you very much. Since you work for me, Clay, I know your story. Every time I hear it, I realize how lucky the conservancy is to have you looking after the Gulf of Mexico. Mr. Olson will take questions for a few minutes and then Bill Payne will share a little bit of his wisdom with us.”

I still had to pee but I listened to the questions carefully and answered to the best of my ability..

Appearing in front of a congressional committee, even one run by Harry, was different from anything else I'd done. These were some serious folks with serious questions. They weren't all friendly.

Harry had explained that morning, 'Some members feel that the environment has done fine before you arrived and they're sure it will be fine long after you've gone. It's why passing legislation to protect the environment is such a challenge.'

When there were no more questions, I relaxed, but I still had to pee.

I'd heard Bill speak before and it would be a while. I hadn't said anything too outrageous. I was hoping not to be corrected.

“I've been on an extended expedition exploring the bottom of the South Atlantic. Since Clay Olson was my student, there's little he said I don't agree with. He's keenly aware of the condition of the Gulf of Mexico,” Bill said in his easy going style.

“As a student, Clay's intuitive observations often gave me better insights concerning my own conclusions. As my student, Clay worked beside me as an equal when we went into the Gulf. We taught each other in those years and we still dive together and meet in his laboratory at the Sanibel Island Conservancy as often as I'm available. I'm always anxious to get Clay's opinion on my findings and discuss his discoveries.

“There's little I can add to what's he's told you. When you want to discuss the South Atlantic, I've got several notebooks full of my impressions of the condition of that wide open body of water. What I'm currently examining is the condition of the shipwrecks sunk during World War II. That's another story for another time. That's all I have for you today. Thank you. It's always a pleasure to speak with you.”

I was surprised at the brevity of Bill's comments. Then I realized why Bill had been invited to appear along side me. It was what Harry described to me the year before.

Harry's comment about me being a made man made sense now. Congressman Harry McCallister, the voice of reason for the environment in congress, introduced me as his marine biologist. Bill Payne, a respected authority on pollution's effect on the environment, endorsed me. My reputation had expanded out of Florida.

*****

A five minute recess was called and Bill and I left together.

“Clay, so nice to see you. I don't have any time to chat. I'm on my way for a conference at Princeton this evening. I could pass up an opportunity to talk about you first.”

“Thanks, Bill. You're too kind. I don't know if I deserve the things you said about me.”

“Most people consider my word as good as gold. That's because I tell the truth, Clay. Your at the top of your game and I'm proud of you,” he said, shaking my hand. “I've got to get moving. I have a car waiting to take me to National Airport for a three o'clock flight.”

*****

Standing on the top of the steps at the Capitol, looking out at the Mall and the Washington Monument, I was immediately drawn to the Lincoln Memorial at the far end of the Reflecting Pool.

It was just after two and Harry would meet me in front of the Supreme Court at six to go for dinner and a stroll in Georgetown. Until then I'd spend hours in the Smithsonian Museum, after a trip to the Jefferson Memorial, after I spent time with Abe.

*****

The next morning we ate breakfast at the Mayflower and were off for a morning of sightseeing before I flew back to Florida.

I was startled by how wonderful Mount Vernon was. Harry, being a congressman meant a private tour. We were taken through the residence, over to the fields, and down to the boat landing on the Potomac River.

It was impressive.

When we drove around the Tidal Basin, the cherry blossoms were a burst of pink surrounding the water.

*****

On the way to Washington I had taken the controls while Harry explained the operation of the plane. He'd wait until August recess and he'd give me instructions on takeoff and landing. It wasn't quite as easy as operating the Seaswirl. It was quite exciting.

The American Airlines pilot didn't offer to teach me to fly the jet plane but the stewardess gave me a bag of peanuts. I passed on a soda and slept the last hour into Orlando.

Harry hired a private service to fly me to the airfield between his house and the conservancy and Reginald drove me home in time for dinner.

It was an exciting trip and I was glad it was over. Store bought food was fine but nothing beat one of Mama's meals. Everyone was excited about my trip to D.C. and my appearance in front of a congressional committee.

*****

Flying back home gave me a great deal of peaceful thinking time. The constant noise in the plane's cabin couldn't stop my mind from wandering.

I'd reached a milestone in my life. I was a marine biologist. I had something to say and people were listening to me. I'd spent nine years working toward the moment I sat in front of Congress.

Whether or not I made a difference wasn't up to me. I would do my job, offer educated opinions, and hope people wanted to protect their environment so it continued offering comfort to all of us.

I feared the people with the power weren't listening. There was something more important to them than clean water and fresh air.

There were people every bit as educated as I was and even more respected, but they would lie for a price. They were paid to put doubt in people's minds about the people who polluted. Making a company clean up after itself meant taking away from its profits. If you could lie and cheat to avoid that, why not? Who could say we weren't wrong about the damage they were doing to the environment?

Greed was far more powerful than the truth.

I had no idea what would happen if my warnings weren't heeded. No one did. I strongly suspected the consequences would be cumulative and the health of many environmental systems depended on the health of all of them. Once the environment began to decay, it would, in time, lead to a collapse.

This was what Bill Payne and environmentalists theorized and were doing their best to prevent. They were involved in collecting evidence in long term studies to document pollution's impact.

Denials proved nothing. They prevented passage of regulations that would stop the worst polluters.

Once we'd gone beyond any reasonable hope that we could stop the pollution and repair the damage done, I'd seriously consider leaving the field. I wasn't making a futile attempt to reason with people who didn't care if there was clean water to drink or clean air to breathe.

It was up to the American people to decide that the destruction of the environment had to stop.

I still believed in keeping the Gulf of Mexico as clean as possible for as long as possible. Most people weren't going to listen or do anything to help accomplish this. Biologists and environmentalists were only able to sound the warning.

I'd be dedicated to doing all I could for as long as I could. It wasn't a lifetime commitment for me and I'd know when it was time to get out.

*****

1976 was one of those years. It had amazing highs and heartbreaking lows. After appearing in Washington, my career was on the fast track.

I accepted invitations to compare notes with professors at the biology wing at the University of Texas and at the biology lab at the University of Louisiana in 1976.

Comparing notes with marine biologists living in states on the Gulf was a good opportunity to see what other scientists saw. When I met with marine biologist now, my age wasn't the first topic of conversation.

Bill Payne warned me to beware of the scientists in the oil patch states who had great sounding arguments why oil wasn't damaging the Gulf of Mexico. Having a discussion with men paid to deny reality wasn't productive. They were paid far more than we were paid to deny the strongest evidence of oil's ability to damage the Gulf of Mexico.

*****

When I got home, I was there for my son and my parents. Lucy was still at college but not for long. By the time I returned from Washington in 1976, Lucy was about to graduate. She'd return to the conservancy house to teach at the local elementary school. This excited my sister.

*****

Ivan came to mind frequently once I'd met with Harry at the Mayflower and was told what I was told. If Boris was alive, and Ivan was eventually told where he was, the long wait might be over.

I couldn't tell anyone, because I wouldn't know what to tell them. I could see raised eyebrows if I told them what Harry told me. It did change things. I felt better about the prospect of Ivan returning to me.

It seemed more possible than it had seemed in years. I was hopeful.

*****

Dylan sulked because he couldn't go to Washington with me. He wanted to see me testify, but more importantly, he wanted to see what Harry did and what a government did. We'd read the books Harry gave Dylan at Christmas and my son was curious about the way things were today. I told him if I was called to Washington again, he'd go with me.

*****

I promised to take Dylan snorkeling on the Sea Swirl Thursday after school.

I'd been busy with some experiments I was doing at the laboratory and I began picking Dylan up after school twice a week, taking him to the lab. This increased our time together.

Dylan loved my laboratory. Especially he loved the jars of specimens.

“What's this, Daddy?” he'd ask, pointing at a specimen.

I began referencing each specimens to its place in the library of biology books Harry purchased for the lab. I sat with Dylan and a biology book until we located the specimen he asked about. I began cross referencing each specimen with what was written in the books and what I'd written in my notes about it because of Dylan's curiosity.

On the Thursday after returning from Washington, I picked Dylan up after school and we headed for the marina.

As I cast off the Sea Swirl's lines, Dylan got into his bathing suit. I started the dual Evinrudes and we began to ease toward the mouth of the cove.

“Can I drive?” Dylan asked.

“There was a marine police boat at the opening to the Gulf when I went out last time. Let's wait until we clear the cove and you can drive.”

Dylan smiled.

As we reached the end of the speed restricted zone, I moved out of the driver's seat and Dylan sat behind the wheel.

“OK?” he asked.

“OK,” I said.

He moved the throttle forward. The bow of the boat lifted and the power pressed us back into our seats.

The fresh air felt nice. It was unusually hot and humid for April. Except for a short period in December and a shorter one in February, it had been far warmer than was typical for that time of year.

When we left the cove we headed straight west until we were out of sight of land. Then I signaled Dylan to steer directly south so we'd follow the the now invisible coastline. I liked this route because so few boats came this way.

Once we were heading south, Dylan looked at me. My son had the same need for speed as me. He couldn't wait to push the throttle all the way forward.

I nodded.

His small hand eased the long slender throttle as far forward as it would go, making the nose of the boat raise up precipitously. Dylan could hardly see over the dash from the driver's seat. I could. Nothing was in our way.

It wasn't what was in front of us that most excited Dylan. He looked back over his shoulder at the rooster tail we kicked up as we flew over the water. It was magnificent, shooting twenty to thirty feet high as the twin 40 hp Evinrudes absolutely screamed.

This was quality time. I wasn't on the Sea Swirl to study anything. This was what we did for fun. Dylan shared my love for the water and the things in it. While I knew Dylan was still a kid, he didn’t. He thought of himself as a vertically challenged adult. He refused to be discounted because of his lack of height.

As wonderful as speed could be, the sun was relentless. I'd begun to sweat profusely. I needed to cool off in the water. This was the first time I'd taken Dylan snorkeling this far off shore. I usually didn't have the time to make an afternoon of it and we stayed closer in.

Dylan was still fascinated by everything he saw underwater, we didn't need to go far to get there, but I set aside plenty of time today. I planned to stop at J.K.'s once we docked, and Dylan would get his favorites, clams and hush puppies.

I tapped his shoulder and signaled for him to cut the engines. He'd done the speed thing and now we'd do the snorkeling thing. As he eased back on the throttles, allowing the engines to adapt to the lower speed, the spot where we ended up was totally random, like life itself.

While this was a pleasure trip, I was always at work when I was on the Gulf. I kept my eyes open for new discoveries and for places with potential. I never knew when something might turn up.

I tossed the anchor into the water and I hung the ladder over the side. When I had my snorkeling gear on, I sat beside the ladder and fell backward into the water and I fell right on top of a reef.

Luckily it was ten feet below the surface, but as soon as I rolled onto my stomach, I saw the most pristine reef I'd ever seen.

Dylan dropped in beside me. I pointed straight down.

This was quite a find. The rich variety of life on the reef was spectacular and brightly colored. Dylan was enthralled.

By sheer accident we'd dropped on top of a reef I'd be studying for years to come. No one else knew the reef was here. It wasn't difficult to see that the condition of the reef and the variety of life meant man hadn't been here yet.

My goal would be to keep it this way.

I checked my compass points before we left to make sure I'd be able to find the reef again.

As we tied up the Seaswirl, Dylan was a chatterbox over what he saw under the Gulf. Even I was impressed by our find. It was Dylan's find. He took us right to it.

By the time we arrived at J.K.'s Kitchen in our bare feet, swim suits, and expressive tee-shirts, Dylan was starved. We'd be sitting down for dinner in a couple hours, which meant restricting him to one order of fried clams with hush puppies, which I helped him eat.

Once the food came, Dylan stopped talking long enough to gobble down the clams. He offered me some clams but I opted for a couple of hush puppies. They were exceptionally good. I didn't know what the secret ingredient was, but it had us hooked.

Just as we were cleaning up our plates, Popov walked in, coming directly over to our table.

“Clay, Dylan, it's nice to be seeing you,” Popov said, giving us a warm smile.

We exchanged greetings and Popov sat next to Dylan, because my son scooted over to leave room for the substantial man.

“And when is Dylan coming to work for Popov?” He asked my son in a serious voice. “Your father was no older than you are when he came to bring the fish to Popov.”

Dylan looked at me. He was at a loss for words, a rare event.

“What grade are you in, Dylan?” I asked, playing along.

“I'll finish second grade next month. I'll be in the third grade.”

“I don't know, Popov. I think he should graduate elementary school before we put him to work,” I said.

“Yes, one should finish the elementary school,” Popov agreed.

“How's the fishing?” I asked.

“The fish they are not biting,” Popov lamented.

“Fish bite on hooks, Popov. You use nets,” I said.

“If Popov was using the hooks, no fish would be on them,” he said solemnly.

“How serious is it?” I asked as a reference point for my marine biologist mind.

“Our holds are half full since March, Popov, he will not be paying the bills if the fish they do not bite soon.”

“You do know that you're talking to a marine biologist, Popov. I study these waters and keep records on significant trends. If there's no improvement by June, drop by the lab. We should talk. You do know you can drop by any time you like,” I said, eating a hush puppy and licking my fingers, pondering Popov's problem.

“You go out with Popov and bring back fish, Clay?”

“We'll talk. I'll do whatever it takes. I might go out with you,” I said thoughtfully. “I need to give it some thought. See if other areas are having the same problem.”

“Everything is fine then. We'll be in the fish when you come again to fish on Popov's boat, Clay.”

I wish I had his confidence.

Where could the fish have gone?

*****

The Masters of War believed in war. Pardoning men who refused to fight went against their religion. it was bad policy to forgive men who refused to fight if you wanted to win at war, which they intended to do.

No matter what they called Teddy, he had been pardoned. He was one of the most honorable men I knew. He had principles that didn't change according to which way the wind blew. Teddy objection to being killed. He objected to killing men living in other countries who had different politics from ours.

Carter, being an honorable man himself, wanted to heal America. He was a good man who tried to do the right thing. Not so good men disagreed and they decided to fight President Carter tooth and nail.

The people who would oppose everything President Carter did, erupted in an orgy of anger over pardoning “Draft dodgers.” They spouted patriotic slogans. “Honor,” “Duty,” and “Country,” were common argument for war. They intended to drive a stake into the heart of reconciliation. They'd make the most of American's defeat in Vietnam. They blaming the anti war movements and draft dodgers for the defeat.

No one mentioned the determination of the Vietamese people to be free while facing the most powerful nation in the history of the world.

The Masters of War promised to make America great again. Having few principles and no honor, they happily sliced and diced America into factions.

We were no longer people who had common interests. We were either patriots or enemies of the state, according to the love it or leave it folks. You either loved America and obeyed its leaders or you were a traitor.

Then there were those of us who didn't think the government represented the people's best interests.

Why did our politicians think that the only answer to a disagreement between nations should ends in war?

Chapter 26

Fishing & Diving

The reef we'd found was twenty-five minutes from the mouth of the cove. That was at a reasonable speed. I only did the rooster tail for Dylan's benefit these days. My need for speed had been replaced by a need for knowledge once I got where I was going.

Speed definitely had its place but if I went too fast I missed a lot. Gradually going fast had lost its luster. I'd done the speed thing. I guess it was inevitable I'd grow up one day and learn to appreciate the things I encountered along the way.

It was two days after discovering the new reef I did my next dive on that reef. The floor of the Gulf was fifty feet below the surface. There were deeper places five miles off shore but fifty feet wasn't unusual along the coast.

I couldn't tell what kind of ship sank to provide the base for the reef but it sank a long time ago. The reef had spread far beyond its origins. I calculated the ship sank before 1800 for the reef to grow this substantial. Its development had taken it to within ten feet of the surface. At the rate most reefs grew, it gave me a clue to its age.

The life on the reef was as diverse as any reef I'd seen. On the first day I found a recently dead sea horse with so rich with color I immediately put it in my net holding bag and took it to the surface. It was beautifully sculptured and the most perfect specimen of that kind I'd collected. I treated it with care and preserve it without delay.

I filled one of the specimen jars I kept on board with sea water and I put the sea horse inside for safe keeping. I held it up to study it against the afternoon sun.

I couldn't resist going back to use up the rest of my air.

The yellows, reds, oranges, and blues were a living rainbow of sea life. Less noticeable were the pastels it took a minute to separate from the more brilliantly colored fish on this coral reef.

For the first time in ages I ran out of air, failing to keep an eye on my dive watch. I didn't suspect I was on the bottom that long.

On another reef I might have been in trouble, but being so close to the surface, I could surface with the air in my lungs without ill affects. I didn't want to get into the habit of cutting corners. There was no reason to ignore caution.

I immediately pushed off the bottom. I took my time. Ignoring safety rules might be OK a hundred times before you faced the consequence for waiting too long and surfacing too fast.

And thus began two and sometimes more dives each week on the new reef. I monitored its health against the health of other reefs I shared with other divers.

I'd tell no one but Harry and Bill the location of this find.

By law I was supposed to register the shipwreck. That meant recording it, which would make it a matter of public record. I had no intention of doing that. This was my reef and it would yield a library of information over the next three years. If I was the canary in this coal mine, this reef was there to tell me about the health of the environment where it lived.

One afternoon at about the same time as we stumbled onto the new reef, I needed to go to another dive site to get some pictures of a new species of fish I'd discovered on a recent dive. This reef was closer to shore and the water wasn't as deep.

I needed to make the dive and take the pictures on a day I picked Dylan up from school. I decided to go straight from his school to the marina and take Dylan with me.

I had Pop fix up a cylinder with a glass end on it so Dylan could put it in the water and watch his father thirty feet below. The water was totally clear and even the colorful fish could be identified with that kind of setup.

Dylan hadn't seen me dive before. It just wasn't something I did with him around. He was too small for the equipment and as curious as he was, I didn't want to tempt him with something he'd instantly want to do.

Forgetting that, I loaded my SCUBA gear into Teddy's car and went to pick up my son. We went straight to the marina. I loaded my gear onto the Sea Swirl and we were off. It was convenient. I didn't need to make time for the dive when Dylan wasn't with me.

It was a big mistake.

Dylan watched me get into my gear, after I told him I'd only be fifteen minutes, and I dropped over the side into the Gulf. He had the rig Pop made to watch me. I got the pictures and I was back in ten minutes. The fish family I went to photograph was in plain view.

I kept my distance and took a roll of pictures before surfacing.

It didn't take long to realize my mistake.

“Daddy, I want SCUBA gear. I want to dive with you.”

“You're too small for the equipment, Dylan. It's a safety issue,” I said as if that would make all the difference. “When you get big enough, I'll get you SCUBA gear. For now we'll snorkel and you can see what's in the water that way. You like snorkeling.”

The conversation continued on the way home. Our first battle of wills had begun. Dylan wanted to dive with me. He bugged Mama and Pop, until they wanted to know why I wouldn't take Dylan SCUBA diving with me. I took him everywhere else with me.

“He doesn't fit the equipment. It's heavy and it's awkward to boot. In an emergency, should he run out of air or run into trouble, he isn't big enough to do what he'd need to do to keep from drowning.”

“No SCUBA gear until you're big enough,” Mama said and Pop nodded agreement.

Dylan sulked. He hadn't tried Aunt Lucy yet, but he would. I headed him off at the pass, alerting Lucy to the problem.

“Luce, Dylan is going to bug you about wanting SCUBA gear. He's too small and too young to be able to dive safely. He's determined and we've told him no.”

Lucy, being an adult, agreed with us.

“That's dirty pool, Daddy. Aunt Lucy would have bought it for me,” Dylan complained one night at bedtime.

*****

When I got back from Washington, my biggest worry was what books to buy Dylan. By the time he was five, Dylan and I shared the reading at bedtime.

Lucy was teaching him to read at four. She introduced him to the parts of speech and taught him what a sentence was.

Outside of 'See Dick run. See Jane run,' I was in the second grade before I began reading the sports page and the comics. At seven I knew the score.

Lucy started with fairy tales, which Dylan loved. When he was five, he was reading from the Hardy Boy books.

Now, I read a page and he read a page. We read as many as ten pages before I tucked him in. He almost always fell right to sleep if he didn't want to complain about not having SCUBA gear.

I missed the books we were reading when I was a boy. I was as anxious as Dylan to find out what Frank and Joe were up to.

Now in a world of words, I enjoyed the simplicity of books about a world that wasn't going to blow up at any time.

*****

“Daddy, is Nancy smarter than Frank and Joe?” Dylan asked in the middle of the third Nancy Drew book we read.

We'd read all the Hardy Boy mysteries I'd found and we began reading the Nancy Drew collection Lucy bought him for Christmas. Dylan had no trouble reading Nancy Drew mysteries.

Dylan thought about it for a while before asking the question.

“I don't know, Dylan. They're all smart.”

“I was thinking Nancy is more logical than Frank and Joe. They get excited a lot. Nancy thinks about what she's about to do.”

“Men approach problems differently than women,” I decided was a safe answer.

“Are women smarter than men?”

“You may be onto something, kiddo. Women know where they're going and they like to have a map to make sure they stay on track. Guys jump into the car and go. If they become lost, they don't like asking directions, which means they don't always get where they're going, but they like going.”

“Is Aunt Lucy smarter than you, Daddy?” Dylan asked, having lost track of Nancy Drew.

Dylan was working on something he hadn't gotten around to asking yet. This was one of those predictable conversations we got into. There is a bigger issue on his mind and than there's the specific question he wants answered.

“Aunt Lucy is the smartest person I know. She's always been smarter than me, but that's not hard.”

“You're smart. You're older than Aunt Lucy. How did she get smarter than you, Daddy? Are women smarter than men?”

“She was always reading, kiddo. It's one of the reasons we read to you. Words can explain the world to you. When I headed out to play, Lucy was reading a book. She didn't play that much.”

“So girls are smarter than boys? They're thinking while we're playing?”

“That's not something I can confirm or deny. Lucy is Lucy. There are a lot of girls. There are some very smart boys. It's a bad idea to say something is true of everyone.”

“Was Mama smart? My Mama, not yours.”

“Yes, she was. She was smart enough to have you.”

“Why don't I remember my mother?”

This was where we were going when he asked the first question. He had difficulty asking questions about Sunshine. Why was his family so much different than other kid's families.

“Your Mama died six weeks after you were born. You were just tiny then. You wouldn't have memories of her. We done reading, kiddo?”

“Why did Mama die?”

“She got sick, Dylan. She got weaker until she died.”

“You've always been with me, Daddy? I mean I always remember you being with me. I can't remember Mama. I want to remember her.”

“I've been with you every day since you were born. I've never spent as much time with anyone as I spend with you,” I said, hugging him close to me and hoping he'd lose interest in a past that had done him no favors.

“My father?”

“I don't understand the question, Dylan.”

I didn't want to think about Ivan.

“I look at that picture a lot. You spent a lot of time with my father. You were good friends. You have your arms around each other. So you were best friends?”

“We were best friends. We did everything together. We finished growing up together. That picture was taken when Ivan turned eighteen. He left the beach later that year. That's when I met your mother.”

“Oh!” Dylan said, knowing those details.

I could see his mind working. There were bigger questions he hadn't asked me yet.

“How about some cookies and milk? Mama made those Toll House cookies you like.”

My son cocked his head to give me a curious look.

It was easier to think about cookies and milk. Cookies and milk were fun and easy.

We giggled and emptied the plate of cookies Mama put on the table in front of us.

I hope she made more so every one got some.

*****

Some of my hardest days were when Dylan wanted to talk about his missing mother and father. I tried to explain it as it happened. It wasn't an easy story to tell and he'd let me off the hook once I began to squirm.

He'd yet to utter the inevitable words, “You aren't my father” to his daddy yet. Dylan was wanted. He was loved.

He had everything he needed and much of what he wanted.

I didn't think he could live in a better home.

From time to time, in spite of what he had, he needed to know who he was and how it was he was in the conservancy house.

*****

The first thing in the morning we got out of bed and went for a swim before breakfast.

Some mornings Dylan would say, “Let's go check on Millie.”

We raced each other up the beach, falling down a lot, until we came to the house next to the river. Then we eased up on the river so we didn't frighten Millie with an abrupt appearance.

On the days Millie wasn't there, we'd swim out to the logs and watch the crabs, frogs, and birds scatter upon our arrival. It was a convenient, ever changing, tidal environment for creatures coming out of the mouth of the river.

We always saw something new.

*****

One morning in early June Popov was waiting for me in my office when I came to work. He was in slacks and a sports jacket.

He stood when I turned on the light.

“Popov!” I said surprised.

“Clayton,” he said.

I got a bear hug from a bear of a man.

“What can I do for you today?” I asked, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the back of my chair.

We sat facing each other.

“You were due to go out yesterday, weren't you? You've changed your schedule.”

“Clay, there are no fish. We are not half filling the holds now. We stay an extra day and have less fish than the last time. The fish warehouse is not filling its orders. I send my men home. I tell them I must see Clay. He must come with us so the fish will return to our nets.”

I stood up to look at the calendar. I'd been in Washington in the middle of April. I saw Popov right after I came back. Fishing usually dropped off some in the summer months, but April should have been one of the better months.

“So it's worse than when we talked at J.K.'s?”

“Yes. Much worse.”

I sat down as Popov watched me.

“The weather hasn't been bad,” I said, trying to figure out what to tell a man who depended on the fish for his survival and the survival of his fishing fleet.

“We need you to come with us. Find the fish, Clay. They will come to you.”

I picked up a pencil and wrote the date across my ink blotter.

I tapped the pencil's eraser on my teeth, trying to think under pressure.

“Has it ever been this bad before?” I asked. “How far back can you remember?”

“Never like this. I come fish here in 1955. Never like this.”

“You go to the same fishing grounds, move east and south, and then north and east, until you come back to the cove on the third day?” I asked, remembering the movements of the fishing fleet from when I was part of it.

“Same as you say,” Popov said, looking tired and anxious.

This had begun to wear on a bigger than life presence. I could see Dylan seated on his knee as he spun the myth about his father bringing fish to his nets.

I got up and went to the wall charts of the Gulf of Mexico.

Harry commissioned a set of maps covering the entire Gulf of Mexico. I turned to the map that showed the farthest west where Popov's fleet fished.

“Here's where we went the first time I went fishing with the fleet in 1965,” I said, pointing out the spot on the chart.

It had been eleven years since that first trip with Mr. Aleksa. I'd just turned fifteen. I would turn twenty-six in a week.

There had been more fish than any of them had ever seen. They needed a charm to explain their incredible luck. They settled on the pudgy boy from landlocked Tulsa. My legend as charmer of the fish was born.

“This is the area where the fleet goes to put the nets out? Then you move southeast to about here,” I said flipping over the next map. “Then you move north and east,” I said, turning one more map. “Then you return to the cove.”

“Yes. It's as you say. There have always been fish, Clay.”

I sat down and tapped my teeth with the eraser some more.

Bill Payne once told me, “If we continue on this path, one day there will be no fish, and one of man's chief sources for nourishment will run out.”

I cringed. I wouldn't tell Popov that.

“You chart our fishing? I didn't know you could do this,” Popov said.

“I track everything, Popov. It's what a marine biologist does. It occurred to me years ago that currents and fish went in similar directions. It doesn't mean fish will be in a particular current when you get there. It doesn't mean they won't be. Since this is the first time the fish haven't been there, it's the first time I can study it. The fish are probably somewhere. My job is to figure out where.”

“You smart man, Clay. I do not know so much about currents or why fish are there when Popov drops his net. I'm an old fisherman and I go where the fish have always been. So what does Popov do? He has sixty men who must eat with sixty families that must eat. Popov is afraid for his people.”

“I'm not quite smart enough to tell you where the fish have gone,” I said as Popov watched me.

“Come fish with us so the fish return, Clay.”

“How much money do you have, Popov?” I asked, moving onto new terrain.

“How much do you need, Clay? Popov can give you what you need,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

He waited, looking me straight in the eye as I put a plan together.

“Not for me, Popov. The money is for your men. I'm going to make a suggestion. It might work. It might not work. Giving it a try will tell us a lot about the condition of the sea and how big the problem is. I need to study the situation. I need your help. It's going to cost you two, maybe three months pay for sixty men.”

“Go on, Clay. Popov is listening,” he said without balking.

“Take a vacation. Tell the fish warehouse to close down. Have them call me. You're both on the way to bankruptcy at this rate. You keep doing what you're doing now and it'll slowly drain you dry.”

“It is Popov's worry too, Clay.”

“How many other fleets fish in the waters where you fish, Popov?” I asked.

“These are Popov's fishing grounds. No one comes to Popov's fishing grounds to fish. There is a fleet from Texas. It moves southwest of where Popov fishes. Fleets from Louisiana fish to north. A fleet from Tampa comes into our fishing grounds. Small fleet. As long as fishing is good, we don't mind so much.”

“Could you move farther south?” I asked. “Near the Florida Straits?”

“Keys are having fleets fishing there. They are not catching the fish either.”

“You talk to these other fishing fleets, Popov?”

“We talk fish. Yes.”

“You need to keep an eye on your fishing grounds. Don't fish. Let no one else fish. Use your smallest boat to keep fishing boats out of your waters. Have it circulate. Alternate crews to keep your men involved. No fishing. I'll want to talk to the other fishing fleets you talk to. I want to hear what they are saying.”

“I can do this. Can I say why this is?”

“Spread the word to other fleets. If you take two months off, and it might take three, the fish will spawn and there will be more fish by September. Maybe the situation corrects itself. What you must understand, my friend, over fishing will one eventually be a problem. Taking time off a couple of times a year will allow the fish to replenish. When you start to fish, my hope is you fill your holds.”

“This is a good plan, Clay,” Popov said. “I'm not worried so much now.”

“If we don't figure out what's wrong on the first try, we'll keep trying.”

“We're careful when we add a boat. We have same trawlers as when you fish with us. Nicky left. His grandfather built the holds on the Vilnius Two wider and deeper than most boats. We do not replace Nicky's boat. Popov is hoping to see Nicky return.”

“You are a good fisherman, Popov. You are an excellent steward of the sea,” I complimented.

“What is this steward?” Popov wanted to know.

“Guardian. You take care of your fishing grounds. You keep other fleets off your waters. It's important we get the fishing under control. I can study the result from keeping your boats at anchor.”

“Popov will do as you say,” he said. “I like this plan.”

“Again, you're quite perceptive and this attitude keeps your fleet strong. The fish are talking to you. As careful as you have been, not taking too many fish from one spot, there are international fishing fleets that will fish anywhere at any time and fish one spot until they fill their holds with millions of pounds of fish. There is no regard for how many fish they leave for other fishermen. If there are no fish the next time they come to fish, they move somewhere else, until they catch all the fish they can. They will leave the sea empty and keep other fishermen to flounder.”

“These are bad fisherman,” Popov said.

“Greedy, bad, careless, and once they catch all the fish, they too will go without. They have fishing boats the size of cargo ships. They go out for a month, two months at a time. It's no longer like your fleet. You go home every third day and take time before you go out again. Those boats are always fishing.”

“The equipment, the men, even the fish, they need to rest,” he said.

“They do, Popov. As I said, you aren't the problem. The fish stock in the Gulf may migrate a thousand, two thousand miles, and then return. Another thing we've yet to chart. You are a good custodian and take care of your fleet. That's not necessarily true at the far end of where the fish migrate.”

“They leave the Gulf?”

“Leave it, move, too far to follow. The Gulf is huge. Your fishing fleet is small. If someone along the line takes more than a fair share, you suffer. The fish don't return, after the last fish is taken, Popov. That's my concern. It's the future a small fishing fleet in our cove faces today. If the fishermen don't protect the fish, there will be no fish. It's as much your job as mine. I can only suggest actions you can take to help. You need to do the work,” I said.

Popov leaned back in his chair to think.

“How do you know so much, Clayton?”

“Logic. Common sense. It's part of what I do, Popov. I study all aspects of the sea. I've never thought of following the fish. We can do that together. First we wait. First we take a vacation. One day scientists like me will know where the fish are, where they go, and how long they stay. Today we need to look for them.”

“I do what you say, Clay.”

“You just think about your vacation for now. I'll do the rest. From now on you might want to set aside ten percent of your profits during the good times. It'll give you working capital when the fish they do not bite.”

Popov smiled, recognizing his words.

“We use nets, Clay. The fish they do not so much bite as they leap onto our decks.”

We both laughed.

This was the myth about me. There were so many fish they leaped on the deck the first day I fished with Popov's fleet.

“We'll talk in a month and I may go out with you then. This time we'll go to see what we can see. You can fish one day only. Go out to each of your fishing grounds, toss in your net, and see what we can see.”

“They will come back for you, Clay. You are the charmer of the fish.”

*****

For one of the first times in my career, I called Harry's private number in Washington. He picked up on the second ring.

“Harry! Clayton, I've just had a meeting with Captain Popov.”

“Clay, what a surprise. How are you?”

“I'm fine. Popov, not so good. You're on the cutting edge of things and I'm here taking care of the Gulf. We have a problem. You need to be aware of it.”

“Go on,” Harry said. “I'm listening.”

“Do you have a few minutes?” I asked. “I can call back, Harry.”

“I'll make a few minutes. The problem?”

“No fish.”

I went over my two meetings with Popov and what I came up with.

“The cove depends on the fishing fleet for survival; the fish warehouse.”

“It's a symptom, Harry. Bill has been saying for years that the seas are being depleted of fish. I didn't expect to see it in my lifetime. I've parked the fleet for two months. We'll go out in July to take a read on conditions. It might be necessary to keep the fleet parked until conditions improve.”

“The fish warehouse?”

“They'll have to close, Harry. Take the summer off. Summer is a slow season with the fewest employees. In the future it might be wise to park the fleet for a month in the winter and another month in the summer. We can protect our fishing industry from over fishing, but there's a bigger problem than the fishing fleet from the cove.”

“OK, Clay. I'll see what I can find out. We'll go with your plan for now. I'll call interested parties who'll see to it the cove stays viable. I'll have some answers by the end of the week. It goes far beyond fishing. I will be home next week. We can talk.”

“Think diversify, Harry.”

“Diversify how? A five star resort might sound nice, but we aren't exactly on the vacation circuit.”

“I don't know. I'm a marine biologist. You're the businessman. Dylan wants to surf. We can look into that. It's big in the West.”

“Surf? There's no surf in the Gulf, Clayton.”

“Not California or Australian surf, but waves big enough to surf on. During storms, which is what Dylan sees, the waves are huge. For the Gulf anyway.”

“Come drown with us doesn't sound like much of a motto,” Harry said.

“We have a bait shop at the marina. They sell rods and reels. Someone must fish nearby. Who runs the bait shop? I have to go to Palmer's to fill my SCUBA tanks. Add some surf gear, the ability to fill SCUBA tanks at the cove, and we might create commerce.”

“Food for thought, Clay,” Harry said.

“We have some incredible dive sites nearby. I could make a map of the ones I don't want to keep exclusively for study. The interest in SCUBA diving is increasing. We can look into tourists and SCUBA diving.”

“Keep on that train of thought, Clay. I've got to go to work. Let me think it over and make some calls. Popov's OK with this?”

“He'll do what I tell him,” I said.

“You do have that effect on people. What will he say if after parking his fleet, the fish don't come back?”

“He'll probably keelhaul me,” I said.

“Sounds painful. Keep me informed. I'll be home next week. Remember, the cove depends on Popov's fleet. If he's no longer viable, neither is the cove.”

The call ended. I kicked my feet off the desk and went to look at the map of the entire Gulf.

If I were a fish, where would I go for the summer?

*****

Bill Payne hadn't spent an inordinate amount of time on doomsday scenarios. He was training us to prevent man's self destruction. I remembered him warning that the fish would be depleted one day if man didn't learn to respect resources. Between pollution and over fishing, he saw a result that was inevitable if an effort wasn't made to preserve natural resources.

It made perfect sense when Bill said it. As marine biologists we were to identify the dangers and then expect a segment of the population to come to the aid of whatever part of the environment was endangered.

It wasn't hard to believe that some men exploited resources. There were men who would grab as much of a resource as they could get.

Was Popov's dilemma local, having natural origins, or was there a culprit that went beyond nature?

I lacked the knowledge or experience to do anything but treat the symptoms, and in doing so, hope we stumbled onto a solution. My work was a continuation of my studies with Bill as his student. It was routine. It required no great intellectual accomplishment to do the obvious.

Knowing what to do if the obvious didn't work was something I'd get to if parking the fleet wasn't the answer.

For now my eyes were on the Gulf and the things in it.

*****

Popov immigrated from the Soviet Union to the United States. Sailing out of the harbor at Murmansk, he sailed into our sleepy cove, bringing his fishing fleet with him in 1955.

The Fish Warehouse had more than doubled in size and the marina, six slips when Popov arrived, had grown up around the fishing fleet. There was a bait shop and J.K.'s Kitchen to serve people who came to the cove to work and play.

There was an ecosystem centered around the fishing fleet. Up until 1976 all systems were go. No one knew trouble had come to the cove.

The spawning cycle of fish was no secret. They reproduced quickly, if given the time to do so. Allowing them to have that time was logical.

It didn't take a marine biologist to figure that out.

*****

Chapter 27

Fish Finder

“Happy birthday, Clay. I brought you a gift,” Harry said, coming into my office with a package under his arm.

It was bigger than a breadbox.

“I don't even know your birthday,” I said. “You don't need to buy me gifts.”

“Sure I do. In particular I needed to buy you this gift. It's a fish finder,” Harry announced.

He sat across from me after setting the package down and taking off his jacket.

“Fish finder? What do you need me for?”

“Jacques Cousteau has one just like it on his research vessel.”

“He's one up on me,” I said.

“Have your pop take a look at it. He might be able to hook it up on the Seaswirl. It's as close to a research vessel as I can get at the moment. It can help you find out where the fish are. If there are less than usual, maybe you can find out why that is.”

“Pop's plenty busy with conservancy business, Harry. He looks tired all the time these days. I'll put Taggart on it. He'll figure it out. Maybe I'll have him hook it up on Popov's boat. I'm planning to go out with him to take a look at his fishing grounds. This gismo might help.”

“Taggart? Twila's Tag?”

“Yeah, boy's a whiz with electrical gadgets. He's like Pop. Give him something you can't figure out and he'll sit with it until he makes it work. I'll wait until I go out with Popov, hook it to his boat. I want to check his fishing grounds and see if anything stands out. Take water samples and see what I can see.”

“Bill isn't sure what to tell you. He's out past Guam since he left the South Atlantic. He won't be back until August. I told him what you told me. He told me you were on the right track. Stop fishing. Give the fish time to replenish their numbers.”

“Why aren't men smart enough to know the resources will run out one day if you don't preserve something for future generations?”

“So many fish! So little time! They're too dumb to think, Clayton. You haven't figured that out yet? The more they catch the more money they make, the more they catch, etc., etc., etc.”

“Congressman, I'm surprised at you. Talking about your constituents that way. What's a voter to do?”

“My voters aren't the ones depleting the fish. They've got better sense. Popov isn't going to over fish his fishing grounds. He's a smart fisherman. He listened to reason. Something else is going on in the Gulf. Something we can't see.”

“He thinks I'll bring back the fish,” I said. “I didn't know he believed that charm story. I know now. I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint him.”

“Or you'll figure it out and bring back the fish, just as he believes you will. You'll do it scientifically. Popov can go on believing you're the charmer of the fish.” Harry said. “I believe it.”

“He's a good man, Harry. I wouldn't be here if Popov hadn't come to the cove. I was a kid who got to go fishing because my best friend's father was a captain on a fishing boat. How cool is that? Popov made me feel like I was important to his fleet.”

“You were important than and you're more important to him now, Clay. You'll bring the fish back one way or another,” Harry said confidently.

“I wish I was as confident as you, congressman. Did you know Zane Grey was a naturalist, Harry?”

“The writer?”

“Yeah.”

“My father loved his books,” Harry said wistfully.

“Over at the college someone in one of my English classes told me that. I told him I was studying to be a marine biologist. The next day he brought in a book of Zane Grey's photographs. There was a series taken in Monterrey Bay. The fishing boats were all at the mouth of the bay within a mile of the shoreline. People stood all along the docks watching these boats.”

“What was the attraction?”

“Tuna! They were catching these huge tuna in their nets. The pictures showed how massive the tuna were. Way bigger than the men trying to catch them. Grey estimated they averaged between one half and three quarters of a ton each.”

“Tuna! I thought half a ton was rare as hen's teeth,” Harry said.

“They are. Everyone of these fish were more than half a ton. There were five fishing boats in the photos and you could see the fisherman struggling to get the fish on the deck. Then they did something curious. Grey describes how they began cutting the nets to sink to the bottom of the bay with all those tuna in them.”

“They what?”

“You could see the boats beginning to sink because of the weight of the nets. There were so many tuna on deck the fishermen could hardly move. If they didn't cut the weight away from the stern of the boat the tuna would have dragged the fishing boats under.”

“That sounds incredible,” Harry said, trying to picture it.

“Today a five hundred pound tuna is really big,” I said.

“What happened?” Harry asked. “They tuna shrunk?”

“To grow to a half ton a tuna needs three to five years. To grow to full size a tuna needs more than ten years. There is so much tuna fishing today that it's rare to catch a tuna more than three years old. They don't have time to mature because we all want a tuna sandwich.”

“So if they cut back on tuna fishing, they'd get big again,” Harry asked.

“I don't know. It would be nice to find out. I've never seen one more than two or three hundred pounds. You'd be surprised how few tuna there are in Tulsa. My best guess is, if we gave tuna enough time to mature, they'd be huge. No one is going to give them the time. they'll fish them until the biggest is is two hundred and then one hundred pounds. Once the tuna a gone, they'll fish for something else and no one will get his tuna sandwich.”

*****

“Ivan?” I asked.

“No. They gave me all they intend to give me, Clay. They wanted me to know they'd received information on Boris' whereabouts. They showed me their hole card, Clay. Knowing that meant I knew Ivan would do what ever it takes to get that information.”

“It's been two years since he told me it would be two years,” I said.

“I expect, and this is merely going on the notion that these fellows stay true to form, they'll ask him to continue his work for two more years and if he does that, they'll give him what they have on Boris.”

“1978,” I said.

“Don't quote me on that. It's my best guess.”

It had all begun in 1968. A boy from the beach where I lived went in search of his brother. It had been eight years.

The hope he'd return to me one day had dwindled.

*****

On Friday afternoon July 16 we sailed out of the cove on Popov's trawler. He set course for the farthest of his fishing grounds.

Dylan had been excited all week, after Popov asked me to bring him along. Popov brought ten of his usual crew of twenty. It was enough men to do the work we needed to do.

As we sailed out of the cove, I had no feeling about the likelihood the fish were back in similar numbers as before. I could ask Popov for more time, depending on what we found, but he and his men were anxious to get back to work.

Dylan and I stood with Popov on the bridge and looked out at a beautiful clear day. There was no doubt who was the captain of this ship. Popov couldn't be anything else. He belonged on that bridge.

The fluffy white clouds moved lazily across the sky west on the horizon as we maintained a steady speed, sailing toward them. It was warm but not hot. It was hotter in April and May than it was in July. Usually in mid July the sun could be torturous if you were out in it for any length of time.

It was after ten that night when the nets went into the water. For the first time the trawler slowed to an idle. Dylan was dozing in Popov's chair when we reached the eastern most point of the fishing grounds. He became alert as soon as Popov began yelling orders and his crew scurried on the deck below.

By the way they moved they were delighted to be working. They began singing sea faring songs. Popov stood outside the bridge and sang louder than anyone, until the nets were in the water.

We waited.

I checked the fish finder and showed Popov the shadows. He was amazed by what the small screen showed him. He asked questions I couldn't answer and we checked the depth of the water and I took water samples and measure the temperature.

“A bit warm,” I said, looking at the gauge. “I'd think it would be cooler this far out.”

“It means something?” Popov asked.

“If the water Warms too much, it isn't good for the fish. There is a level where they populate and reproduce best. I'll need to do some research. I want to study what makes fish migrate. Go to cooler waters. We'll keep a record on the water temperatures each time you go out. I'm learning as I go, Popov. I'll see what I can find.”

After an hour, the nets came up and the contents were deposited in the hold. The nets were put away.

“Half?” Popov said sadly.

“Half what you usually net here?” I asked.

“Half. Maybe a bit better than last time.”

Once everything was stowed away, we moved toward the southwest.

“Let me show you Popov's cabin. You can sleep there if you like. Popov will stay on bridge tonight. We keep moving.”

Dylan was too excited to go to sleep. He wanted to watch the operation of the nets and supervised the fish being brought on board. The crew knew Dylan and could go about their business without him being in the way.

I couldn't sleep. We were working a gigantic puzzle and I had to see the pieces as they were set into place. As we moved southwest for another few hours, Popov began to talk. He talked about fishing in Russia and his escape across the North Atlantic to America.

I remembered Ivan's Pop Pop and how he'd escaped the Soviets, sailing out of Vilnius and finding his way to the same cove where Popov ended up.

It was well after midnight when the nets went back into the Gulf again. Once again the trawler idled along. The nets were allowed to stay in a little longer this time. I stood beside Dylan as the nets came back on board.

It looked better than when the nets came in the first time. The fish wiggled and squirmed as the net swung over the main hold and opened to deposit the catch below deck.

Popov waded into the wriggling mass.

“Better, Clay. This is better. Not good but better,” Popov said.

“It's a start,” I said.

Popov was happier. He thought the fish were making a comeback. For the sake of the fishermen and the cove, I hoped that was true. Both of us knew that a couple of nets full of fish didn't do much but give you an indication of how many fish were in the water when the nets went in.

It was getting daylight as we moved northeast. Dylan hadn't missed anything so far. He was too excited to sleep. At seven this was the adventure of a lifetime. He'd been able to see fishermen at work and sail as far into the Gulf as I'd ever been.

I was still apprehensive. What had I proven by getting the fishing fleet to take six weeks off? Were the fish increasing in numbers or was there something else going on? I didn't know the answer.

The sun was ready to pop up over the horizon when the nets went in for the third and final time. Dylan spent a lot of time looking into the Gulf he could see now. He watched the seamen take care of the chores to get ready to hoist the nets back onto the deck.

Dylan had seen all these men at J.K.'s and most of them knew Dylan from when he was tiny. There was a kinship there that was hard for me to explain.

The closest fishing grounds to the cove yielded more fish than the other two closer fishing grounds. The nets didn't come in full of fish but by far it was the most we'd caught that night.

Popov was delighted as he waded through the fish one last time.

“Fish Warehouse will be happy to see us. Popov tell them he bring fish.”

We laughed. It was impossible not to laugh when Popov laughed.

It was another perfect day as the sun moved higher in the sky. I liked feeling the breeze in my face as the boat sailed for the cove. We moved far faster that the Vilnius Two could go. Ivan's grandfather had his boat built to hold a lot of fish and not to move fast.

“Come! We go to galley and see what's cooking,” Popov said, gathering Dylan and me in his arms to usher us off the bridge. The decks were all but empty. What had been a madhouse of activity a few hours before, was quiet now. We were about to find out why.

As we entered the galley in front of Popov, the men were all there and broke into song, “Harry birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear, Dylan. Happy birthday to you.”

A big chocolate cake was in the center of the table with a tub of ice cream next to it. Dylan cocked his head, looking back at me and then at the cake with seven full size candles on top.

I'd mentioned off hand that this would be a nice birthday present for Dylan, getting out deep into the Gulf. Popov did the rest.

Everyone got a big chunk of cake and a bowl of ice cream.

Dylan was as happy as a lamb. It was his favorite breakfast ever.

*****

Dylan got another cake and ice cream when we got home. Seven had started off as a fine year for my son. His excitement level wasn't what it usually would have been, after being up all night.

He fell asleep before our usual reading time arrived and waking him to find out what happens to Gulliver wasn't necessary.

*****

I met Popov at J.K.'s for lunch on Monday.

“What are you thinking, Clay,” he asked.

“Thanks for the birthday cake. Dylan felt at home with your crew.”

“Their memory of him runs far longer than his memory of them,” Popov said.

“Can I talk you out of going to the western fishing grounds for the rest of the year?”

“What of the other two?” Popov asked.

“Mid August. One trip a week. No more than four days. Both are closer to the cove. That'll cut your expenses considerably. I'm going to ask the fish warehouse for the weight of your catches for the past two years.”

“Is fine with Popov. You boss.”

“This is new, Popov, but I intend to keep records to indicate the trends. Maybe we'll talk about taking one month in the winter and a month in the summer when your fleet stays anchored each year. We'll know a lot more once you start fishing on a regular schedule next month.”

“We're OK so far, Clay. Is good plan. I am thinking you know plenty. Fishing with us those years is good thing now.”

“Yes it is. I know people are depending on the things we decide to do. I'd like to think we're making sure that there will always be fish to catch.”

*****

1976 was the first year I worked at being a marine biologist. For the first time people I knew depended on me to come up with answers that would make it possible for them to continue making a living while living near the cove.

While Bill Payne came and sat in my office at the end of July, while Popov's fishing fleet was still at anchored in the cove, he didn't have much to say. He listened to me tell him about what I'd seen and done.

“When do you let them go back to being fishermen, Clay?” Bill asked, looking at the weight of the fish Popov's fleet had caught over the past two years.

“Except for the day in July when I went out with him, they'll stay in the cove for two more weeks. Then the plan is for them to go our once a week instead of twice, fish four days a week instead of six, and they don't fish the western most grounds until early next year.”

“You will keep me informed. I'm due back out in the South Pacific at the end of the week. We've been using under water technology to examine the bottom there. It's huge and we're finding creatures we didn't know existed. They live where men don't come in contact with them.”

*****

New technology was making it possible for marine biologists to go where they'd never been able to go before. Diving bells and underwater cameras were bringing what was on the floor of the seas into view. It was one of those events words can't describe. An entirely unknown world came into view. There were creatures no man had seen before.

I had no urge to leave where I lived. There may have been a bigger world out there but I liked where I was. I could accomplish what I wanted to do while living on my beach.

*****

Popov went on the reduced schedule I'd come up with a month after I went out with him. I knew when the fleet would return to the cove and I was there an hour early to be sure I was first to get word on how the fishing went. Men had put their livelihood in my hands. I wanted to face them over the results of my planning.

It was a grand site to see the fleet returning to the cove, lining up to leave the fish at the fish warehouse. No one at the warehouse acted like they wanted to do me harm, but I'd put them out of work too. I hoped things would return to normal so we could avoid more long shutdowns.

Popov was all smiles when he came to greet me. I waited for him to tell me how he'd done.

“Is better. Not good. Not bad, but better than in the spring.”

“The key is the western grounds. We leave them alone for the entire six months. That will tell us if we need to fish less to keep the fish population plentiful.”

“We are fine with holds three quarters full,” Popov said.

*****

In September and October, I went diving frequently on the new reef that was twenty-five minutes from the mouth of the cove. The more I studied it, the more I found to study. The dives were easy with the reef that close to the surface.

I got excited before I anchored a hundred or more feet to the west of the reef. I didn't want to disturb what ever activity was going on or announce that company was coming. Making an underwater approach gave me the best results.

I had two file cabinet drawers full of pictures and notes in short order. I kept a journal and I made entries describing each dive on my new reef. It dominated my time at the conservancy.

I scheduled two dives a week on that reef. I had my eye on something new I spotted each time I ran out of air. It was a treasure trove of organisms in an unmolested habitat. Finding a place where man hadn't left his impact wasn't easy.

The amount of information one spot yielded was beyond my wildest dreams. I was always anxious to get back to see what else I might find on the next dive. It was a marine biologists' version of heaven.

I didn't take Dylan back to the reef he discovered. I didn't tell him it was a shipwreck or that there were an immense number of species inhabiting that single coral reef. While I took him snorkeling from time to time, usually at his request, because I was too busy to think of it most days. My son still had SCUBA gear on his mind. He was still too small for the gear. It was a matter of safety.

When things went wrong underwater, you had seconds, maybe a minute to surface once your air ran out.

The reef had been there hundreds of years and there was no reason it wouldn't be there hundreds more. Once Dylan was nine or ten, I'd find equipment that fit him and introduce him to the reef.

He bugged me about getting SCUBA gear every chance he got.

*****

With September being the fist full month of fishing for Popov's fleet, I was anxious to see the numbers. It turned out to be one of the better months in a year and that was using the two closest fishing grounds. I was pleased and Popov was delighted. He wasn't going to go bankrupt and the fish warehouse found a way to keep most of their employees working.

The cove was back in business and I took Dylan snorkeling the day after we got the numbers for October. It was a better month for fishing than September. Two fairly good months in a row and this called for clams and hush puppies at J.K.'s after two hours of snorkeling. We could snorkel and didn't need to worry about running out of air.

J.K. came out to serve us. He too was all smiles. I assumed his business was doing better once the fishing fleet went back to fishing. We were there in between lunch and dinner, so it wasn't crowded. The fleet was out that day and Popov didn't know his October results were better than September yet, or, knowing Popov, he probably figured it out without me telling him.

I was the guy who came up with the bright ideas. Popov caught the fish.

“J.K., how much do I owe you,” I said, taking my wallet out of my jacket.

“On the house, Clay. You owe me nothing. Popov said you don't pay for meals at J.K.'s. You're his guest and I'm delighted to serve you. Thank you, Clay.”

“Why don't you pay for our food, Daddy,” Dylan asked as we walked to the car.

“What I did for the fishing fleet worked out and now Popov won't let me pay for anything at J.K.'s.”

“That means he's happy with you?” Dylan asked.

“I'd say. He's a good man, Dylan.”

“I like him,” Dylan said.

It was a testimonial from my son few people received.

*****

Being made happy by an act of generosity from a man I did my best to help gave me a good feeling. Being appreciated in such a way was nice. It's why I had no desire to leave the cove. I was at home here and doing what I set out to do.

Some parts of 1976 turned out just fine. I'd had some adventures, some successes, and the pristine reef anchored my world of research. Whenever I needed a lift, I went diving all day on Dylan's reef.

I had three sets of SCUBA tanks I could use, counting Harry's and Ivan's. On the days I wanted to spend most of the day underwater, I'd load those tanks up on the Seaswirl at nine in the morning and I'd be in my own world until late in the afternoon.

There was no rush and no rooster tail. Just me, the Gulf, and the reef on a lazy cool November day. I often lost track of time and sat between dives making notes of my newest finds.

This was my world and I loved it.

I don't remember what day of the week it was. I don't remember much about it. This was one of those days in 1976 that wasn't OK.

Nothing was going to turn out fine. I only thought my life was good and my future great as I did what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it.

Seemingly nice days can go down hill fast.

*****

I knew nothing about where Ivan was or even if he was alive, but he was on my mind that day. He was on my mind most days..

*****

I'd stayed longer than usual on the reef. I came up to deposit an empty air tank on the Sea Swirl, jot notes, eat one of the sandwiches Mama packed for dive days. An hour would pass before I strapped on a fresh tank and went back into the Gulf.

On the way back to the cove, I decided I'd talk to the man who ran the bait shop and make arrangements to supply him with an air compressor to fill SCUBA tanks. I was sure this was the way to go in the cove. As more and more people took an interest in our out of the way paradise, we needed something to attract them and get them to leave a few of their dollars with us.

Not everyone wanted to go at full tilt mode all the time. Some folks would enjoy our slow and easy pace of living.

I didn't want to go to J.K.'s to eat, but I felt starved as I brought in the anchor and started back for the cove. I checked the bag for another sandwich, but it was empty. Maybe Mama would have something out that I could pinch to tide me over until dinner.

I slid into my slip like a pro. I was tired and hungry and a bit sunburned. I wanted to get home and jump into the shower before dinner.

*****

That's when my thoughts and my world were interrupted by the new dock man. He appeared from nowhere and jumped on the deck of the Seaswirl to secure the line.

It was like he was waiting for me to show up.

“Thanks,” I said, unaccustomed to him helping.

I had no money in my swimming suit, but I'd tip him later. When he gathered my tanks to set them on the dock, I was perplexed. I didn't need any help doing my joy. It was a nice gesture but he was slowing me down and I wanted that shower.

I thought I'd stop and get the tanks filled on my way to the conservancy in the next morning.

“Mr. Harry's been waiting' an hour for you, sir. I told him you was never gone this long.”

“Harry? He's not supposed to be home until late,” I said more to myself than to the dock man.

It was curious but after election day, Harry was usually gone until Thanksgiving.

I had my double tanks in one hand and the two singles in the other as I turned to go to my car.

When I looked up, Harry was there. His tie was hanging loose and the top buttons on his shirt were unbuttoned. He looked terrible.

“Harry! Are you OK?”

Reginald appeared at Harry's side. What was going on?

“What's wrong,” I said, having reality hit me all at once. “Not Dylan. Please tell me it isn't Dylan.”

“Your father,” Harry said. “Heart attack. He's in a coma. Your mother and Lucy are with him in Fort Myers. Where have you been? No one knew where you had gone.”

“Pop knew. I told him I was diving on the reef all day today.”

Before Harry returned to Washington, the Seaswirl was equipped with a radio.

“Dylan's home. I sent Twila over to keep him busy. He doesn't know about your father. You need to get home and take care of your son. There's nothing you can do for your father right now. It's wait and see right now, Clay.”

“He's alive,” I asked, my mind swirling.

“He's alive,” Harry said. “Where have you been, Clayton?”

“Diving my reef. Taking my time,” I said, angry with myself for being out of contact all day.

“We'll take those,” Harry said, relieving me of the air tanks.

He took one and Reginald took the other two. I walked down the dock behind them, having failed in my attempt to get at least one of the tanks back.

I'd never seen Harry more pale or more agitated as we moved toward the parking lot.

“Let me put them in my trunk, Reginald,” I said, dodging ahead of them to get the weight off the man.

I opened the trunk and he set the tanks inside one at a time.

“I hope you Pa, he be OK, Mr. Clay,” Reginald said softly.

“Thank you, Reginald. That's kind of you.”

I grabbed my jeans from the trunk and pulled them on over my bathing suit. I sat in the back of Harry's car, once he made it clear he wasn't letting me drive myself home.”

“Harry, you didn't need to....”

“Yes I did. You and your father are the heard of the conservancy, Clay. When there's trouble, I want to be here. When I go to Washington, I know the conservancy is in good hands. It's you and your father who make sure the conservancy business is done. We depend on him for so much. Wouldn't know what to do without him making sure everything was running properly,” he said, not looking at me as he spoke. “No, I couldn't sit up there and wait. Waiting is easier here.”

*****

Harry and I had been together much of October. This was the year I campaigned with him full time. I spoke where he spoke and went where he went. The conservancy and its marine biologist were essential parts of Harry's work in Washington.

Every one knew Harry and I was Harry's man in the Gulf of Mexico. I told my story to the people that came to hear Harry talk.

Most jobs in the area were related to tourism, water sports, and pleasure crafts. I'd replaced Bill Payne as Harry's spokesman on the environment, but only because Bill had moved on to other things, leaving the Gulf in my trusted hands.

*****

As we drove toward the conservancy house, I thought back to when Sunshine died and how Harry had been there through it all. He was like a second father to me. I had no way to repay him for that.

One thing was for certain, I wasn't done with my first father yet.

As with the day Sunshine died, I didn't know there were days like that until the day came.

The same was true with Pop's heart attack.

For the first time I realized my father was mortal. One day Pop wouldn't be around any longer. I hoped this wasn't that day.

*****

I don't know if I prayed to Mama's God or not but I prayed big time.

'Please don't let him die.'

*****

Chapter 28

Hard Days Passing

I never knew fear the way I knew it in late 1976.

*****

I left the conservancy on a Thursday morning.

“I'm going to fill my SCUBA tanks at Palmer's and I'll be gone all day, Pop.”

“Don't be late, Clay. Mama's fixing corn beef and cabbage for dinner,” he answered as I headed for my car.

I called my own shots. I was the conservancy's marine biologist. No one asked me where I was going or when I'd be back.

Harry was in Washington. He'd planned to fly back later that afternoon for the Thanksgiving recess.

Bill Payne was near the Marianna Islands diving in one of the deepest parts of the Pacific Ocean. For the last two years I'd seen Bill an average of three times a year as he continued studying the world's waterways.

No one else cared whether my dive was the half day variety or all day. Only Mama knew I was staying past lunchtime, because she packed three sandwiches instead of two to get me through until dinner. She put a note in the bag.

'Corn beef and cabbage for dinner.'

I left Pop's shop between seven thirty and eight. I went straight to Palmer's to get my SCUBA tanks filled. I took three tanks, Harry's, Ivan's, and mine. Usually I took Ivan's tank along in case I stumbled onto something interesting toward the end of my dive. I took Harry's tank with me on all day dive days so I could have an air tank to use after I ate my sandwiches.

While Mr. Palmer took the tanks around back to fill, Mrs. Palmer fixed me one of her breakfast burritos with chorizo, eggs, onion, garlic, and cheese. She made each fresh while you waited. I watched. There was no flavor like it in the universe where I lived. Like J.K.'s fried clams, neither being of Mama's kitchen, but they were absolutely irresistible nonetheless.

For the first twenty years of my life, I didn't want anything Mama didn't fix, except for pizza and burgers.

I arrived at the marina at eight-thirty and stowed the SCUBA gear and I checked the boat out. I started the engines, untied from the slip, and I idled over to fill the fuel tanks on the Seaswirl.

This was the last time I'd be in touch with civilization for over eight hours.

I followed a similar routine each time I went diving. On the half day dives I was back by one or two. On the all day version I wouldn't be back until after five.

I looked forward to taking my all day dives. I tried to take one a month. It was the time when I was in my element without a care in the world. My world had never changed much while I was diving. I didn't suspect it would change today.

I felt good. I was excited about getting into the deep.

The underwater world gave me peacefulness I knew nowhere else.

*****

Pop was found lying on his back in his shop at about the time I arrived at the marina.

A doctor had been at the firehouse when the emergency call came in. The doctor stayed with my father until he was in the nearby emergency room where he was stabilized and sent on to the Fort Myers Hospital.

His condition was critical.

Harry's secretary called Harry as soon as the ambulance left the conservancy for the emergency room. Harry was cleaning up his schedule to fly home later that day. His plane was on the runway being serviced when he called Hyde field to say he'd be leaving as soon as he could get there. He was a half an hour's drive away if the traffic moved smoothly. His plane's tanks were filled with fuel and rolled to the end of the runway with the engines running.

A favorable tailwind had Harry landing on the field behind his house a little after three thirty that afternoon. By that time it was clear that no one knew where I was or could find any information that might indicate where I'd gone.

Before leaving D.C. Harry made arrangements for Reginald to drive Mama and Lucy to Fort Myers. He had Twila leave his house to go to the conservancy house. She would pick up her son Taggart after school and then she'd pickup Dylan when his school let out. Twila suggested that the boys go fishing off Palmer's pier, something they did often. They jumped at the chance.

Reginald waited at the landing strip behind the house that afternoon. Now everyone waited.

Harry had Reginald drive him to the marina to see if my car was there. It was and the Seaswirl was gone from its slip. My fuel receipt indicated I fueled at eight fifty-two. Harry and Reginald waited for my return.

Twila left the conservancy house to pick up the boys at five o'clock. She would take her time because I hadn't made an appearance yet and I was the one who would explain Pop's heart attack to Dylan, except it was my day to lollygag in the Gulf and only Pop knew where to find me.

Harry wouldn't let me drive home from the marina. He had a vivid memory of his own father's heart attack and how disorienting it had been for him. Harry knew I would take this hard.

*****

Dylan and Taggart sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table eating dinner when I came in. The boys caught eight fish in the two hours they'd fished from the pier. They only agreed to leave because they were starving.

Twila had the boys clean their fish and she was cooking them, when I arrived. So far Dylan hadn't asked, 'What's going on?' But he knew something was wrong.

I was home before six, my usual time I'd be leaving work. Dylan gave me a long forlorn look when he saw me. He wasn't fooled but he waited for his father to come home.

“Dylan, we need to talk,” I told him as soon as I reached the kitchen.

We went upstairs to sit on the porch outside my bedroom. It was private.

I needed to stay strong for Dylan but I felt anything but strong. My heart was pounding hard in my chest. I needed to be direct but hopeful.

“What's wrong?” He asked, still holding his fork. “Where's Mama and Lucy? Where's Pop. Why isn't Twila home feeding her own kids?”

“Your grandfather,” I started and stopped. “Pop got sick at work. Mama and Lucy are at the hospital with him.”

Before I could gather myself, Dylan hit me with the big guns.

“Is he going to die like my mother?” Dylan asked without hesitating.

I looked at my son, having forgotten he'd never been a child.

“No! I don't think so, Dylan. We don't know. The doctors don't know. He's very very sick.”

“Will I see him again before he dies?”

I grabbed my son and held him as we cried together. So much for being strong. He wasn't old enough to remember his mother's death but he grasped the concept of people leaving his life forever.

A seven year old, even a mature one, wasn't allowed in hospital rooms. If the worse came to pass, I'd make sure Dylan saw his grandfather one last time.

I would not let my son see Pop in a casket. That wasn't happening.

The official word is, “It's wait and see at this point. He'll either wake up or he won't.”

There would be no life in the conservancy house while Pop was close to death.

*****

1976 had been an upbeat year until November when it took an abrupt turn for the worse.

I'd fallen off the Seaswirl onto a pristine reef that offered me endless opportunities to make new discoveries about the underwater world.

Lucy received her college degree with her family looking on. She took a job at the elementary school teaching third grade. She worked with me in the lab on Saturdays.

The fishing fleet lost and then found their fish.

Harry had easily been reelected earlier in November. I'd spent a month on the campaign trail with him. I was seasoned enough to make a case for him now. It was this election when Harry and I drew closer as men. He'd always treated me like I was an adult, even when I wasn't. I was his closest confidant and a voice he trusted to tell him the truth.

Riding high on the excitement surround Harry's reelection, Pop's heart attack brought me back to earth. It made me realize what was important.

Our

*****

On the Saturday after Pop was taken to the hospital, I drove to Tampa to pick up John-Henry, Star, Peter and Paul, the Olson family west. John-Henry, now living in Santa Barbara, California, with his wife and kids. Peter was five and Paul was almost four.

My big brother had matured into a handsome impressive looking man.

Brian drove into the conservancy house's driveway Sunday afternoon. He brought his wife Tania, their daughters Jennie and Carol, and their son John. After seeing these people in action, I was amazed they all survived for over a thousand miles in the same car together.

Brian, the second eldest Olson son, had matured into a gigantic mess.

I was the youngest son but Brian was the oldest child.

The conservancy house became filled with the sound of children.

After a day in the house with Brian's kids, Dylan offered to help me drown Jennie and Carol, who constantly whined. 'I want” and “gimmy,” being their favorites. Brian had changed. He'd gotten bigger, but he still whined about the deck being stacked against him his entire life.

It made me glad he lived in Texas, too far for a weekend trip home.

John-Henry met Star as he came off the plane on his return home from Vietnam. He fell in love with the girl who guided him around war protesters. She was one until she realized John-Henry was the man she'd marry. Settling in Santa Barbara after a massive oil spill, they helped with the clean up.

John-Henry and Star spent several years caring for sea otters and sea lions, victims of the spill long after the oil companies left town. They loved Santa Barbara, each other, and soon had two kids. Both Peter and Paul were polite and well mannered.

speaking in plain English, they asked, “What's wrong with Brian's kids?”

John-Henry said, “Nothing, guys. They take after their father.”

I would have enjoyed telling Brian where to go but the situation being where it was, I smiled a lot and I took Dylan to eat at J.K.'s as often as possible.

On Monday the doctors sent Mama home with sedatives. Pop's condition hadn't changed. Mama could only sit holding Pop's hand.

With Mana not eating or sleeping, Pop's doctors ordered her to bed.

With the man she spent her life with out of reach, Mama fell apart.

*****

On Tuesday morning I walked into Pop's hospital room and I came face to face with Bill Carson. I immediately knew it was Teddy. I hadn't seen him since I was seventeen. The man looked nothing like Teddy but I knew it was him.

He knew I knew him but he insisted on telling me he was Carson. I understood his need not to be recognized as Theodore Olson. If he hadn't been my brother, I wouldn't have recognized him. I knew him too well to be fooled.

Seeing Teddy gave my spirits a lift. He was one more person I couldn't be sure was dead or alive. Seeing him, hugging him, reassured me. Dressed to the nines, my brother looked like a million bucks. Whatever he was up to, he was succeeding.

“I'm here, Pop. I'm with you,” Teddy said, leaning close to Pop's ear.

Pop's eyes blinked open. He made an effort to smile. Teddy cried. I cried. When we called the nurse, she left the room excitedly.

Teddy had done something doctors couldn't do. He brought Pop back from where ever the heart attack took him.

As we stood outside the door waiting to be let back into Pop's room, I hugged Teddy and said, “I'll have Mama here first thing in the morning. Come back so she can see you're OK. It's the only thing beside Pop waking up that will put a smile on her face.”

He smiled and nodded and nothing would keep Mama away from the hospital once she knew Pop was awake.

Teddy being there would be a bonus.

Mama didn't have another down day after meeting Teddy in Pop's hospital room. I was sure Teddy's voice brought Pop back. Like me, Pop would know Teddy anywhere.

The doctor said, “He's going to be OK. Recovery will take time. I anticipate he'll be good as new in a few months. With a few changes in his diet and with regular exercise, he can avoid more incidents like this one.”

*****

Coleen came to Pop's hospital room twice. She was brusk and uncomfortable. Only Mama and Pop got to enjoy her company. She expressed no interest in seeing her brothers or sister.

She'd seen us before.

*****

There was a Thanksgiving dinner at the conservancy house. Mama and Lucy were with Pop at the hospital. Dylan and I ate with Harry.

I don't know who cooked dinner at the conservancy house or what it was like, but I knew by the mess they left that someone fixed a turkey.

Brian and his brood left the conservancy house Friday. He needed to be at work Sunday night. He'd driven to see Pop twice while he was there.

“Daddy, don't ever invite those people to come here again. They're all nuts,” my son said as we stood in the driveway waving goodbye.

“I don't get much say in these matters, kiddo, but I'm on your side. We'll go away if they come again.”

Even Mama was happy to see Brian and his family leave. She admitted something had gone seriously wrong with Brian.

On Saturday morning I drove John-Henry, Star, Peter and Paul to the airport in Tampa. We stopped for breakfast at a restaurant adjacent to the airport. Sitting at a table in the rear was Bill Carson. As his family ate, John-Henry and I had coffee with the Vancouver businessman who was flying home.

We talked for an hour.

Family was a good thing, especially brothers.

*****

Of the Olsons who lived in the conservancy house, none enjoyed Thanksgiving. Pop being OK meant a lot but it wasn't the same and we all went our separate ways at Thanksgiving that year.

*****

Pop came home in mid December. Lucy and I decided we'd go bag the best Christmas tree we could find. Pop would be worried about it otherwise. This way it would be in place when he arrived home.

We weren't so much worried about glitz and glitter this Christmas. We would celebrate the family being together. We settled on an eight foot tree the two of us could manage. It would be lost in the foyer but it wasn't about size. We realized when we went out, we weren't going to be able to find a fourteen foot tree and muscle it back to the house the way Pop did. He dug each tree up himself. After Christmas, we planted it beside the driveway so we weren't killing a tree.

We spent all day digging it up, trying to keep dirt on the roots with little success. We couldn't figure out how Pop did it. After most of a day's work, we had the tree dug up and in the wheelbarrow we'd use to take it to the house. We decided to rest up and come back the next day to get it into the house and in place so we could decorate it.

We got it into the house the next afternoon. A trail of mud and soil followed us from where we dug up the tree. We got Mama's biggest wash tub and lifted the tree out of the wheelbarrow and put it in the tub, losing what little dirt was left on the roots. It took two trips back to where we dug it up to have enough dirt to cover the roots. When we put water in the tub, the dirt floated to the top.

We spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess we'd made and Mama and Twila would still be cleaning up the dirt into 1977. We didn't know how Pop did it. We'd come in from where ever we were and he'd have the tree up and ready to be decorated.

After two days we had a tree leaning precariously in Mama's wash tub.

By the next day we managed to get the tree fairly straight. Pop had eyelets where we could tie the cord to hold the tree in place. We collapsed after wrestling with that damn tree for two more hours and it was time for Pop to get home.

We did our best to clean up one more time and put things away before he arrived. At least he didn't need to worry about his family having a tree. It wasn't much but it was a tree.

Pop was more than twice my age and every year he went out by himself and came back a perfect tree for the foyer. We'd come home a few weeks before Christmas each year and the tree was there and ready to be decorated. There was no doubt that Pop was a better man than Lucy or me.

*****

Pop came into the house on Harry's arm. He looked thinner but he looked good considering what he'd been through. The first thing he did as Reginald closed the door behind them, was notice the tree that was easy to miss by virtue of it being smaller than usual.

“What's that?”

“Our Christmas tree,” Lucy said proudly. “We dug one up like you do.”

“That tree won't last until Christmas. The soil isn't on the roots. It's not going to take moisture,” Pop said, identifying the trouble immediately. “Let me make a call.”

Harry took the walk to the phone with Pop. He dialed a number.

“Before I go to lie down, put that tree back in the ground so we don't kill it. Put it near the head of the driveway. A tree that size will look good there.”

Lucy and I looked at each other. We'd given it our best shot but Pop was the Christmas tree expert. Harry, Reginald, Lucy, and I carried the tree to the end of the driveway where I planted it after Pop laid down.

We were back where we started. What did Pop have in mind? He didn't say and we didn't ask.

*****

The following morning a little after seven there was a knock on the front door. When I opened it, three very big men were standing next to a fourteen foot Christmas type tree ball on. It was a perfect tree for the foyer.

“Morning. We'll need that wash tub your father puts the tree in,” the man in charge said.

As soon as I put the wash tub down, they dropped the tree into it. The man in charge took the cord from his pocket and they wrapped it around the trunk and secured it to the eyelets in the wall.

Instant Christmas tree.

“Here's a solution the tree will like. Fill the tub half full of water. add two tablespoons of this and swish it around. It will be fine until after New Years. Then plant it. Tell your father that I appreciate his business and I hope he's feeling better,” he said, and the three man left.

Lucy and I looked at each other and laughed hysterically. We now knew Pop's secret.

*****

The tree was beautiful and just the right size. Pop came out to admire it before he ate breakfast.

“You never told us how you always managed to have such a nice tree every year, Pop,” I said.

“Barney's tree service. Nice fellow. Harry told me about him the second year we were in the house.”

“It's really nice, Pop. Thank you,” Lucy said.

Christmas was quiet. We had a lot of visitors, who came to see Pop. None stayed long. Having Pop home proved to be the kind of gift everyone enjoyed. Everyone who worked at the conservancy came to wish Pop a Merry Christmas and thank him.

This was how 1976 came to a close.

Everyone at the conservancy house felt blessed.

*****

Popov reported that the end of the year had seen a modest improvement. He hadn't been in the western fishing grounds in over six months. When we discussed the fleets' fishing routine, he decided on the four day a week schedule with only two of his three fishing grounds being fished each week.

As 1977 got underway, the fishing fleet came back with the most fish they'd caught on any trip in the past year. The western most field yielded up a top notch catch that filled the fishing fleet's holds.

The fishermen from the cove were all smiles. The people at the fish warehouse gave me a ten pound package of fish and a gallon of oysters the next time I stopped to get a copy of the monthly figures on the fishing fleet's catch.

It was nice to be appreciated. Life was good and the work I did had finally helped someone in a way I could see.

*****

On January 21, 1977 my brother Teddy was no longer a fugitive from America's injustice. James Carter, 39th President of the United States, pardoned draft resisters from the Vietnam War era.

Politicians expected to be obeyed. People who didn't obey were called ugly names. President Carter, being a Christian, believed in forgiveness.

He wanted to end the Vietnam era and bring the country together.

*****

The Masters of War believed in war. Pardoning men who refused to fight went against their religion. it was bad policy to forgive men who refused to fight if you wanted to win at war, which they intended to do.

No matter what they called Teddy, he had been pardoned. He was one of the most honorable men I knew. He had principles that didn't change according to which way the wind blew. Teddy objection to being killed. He objected to killing men living in other countries who had different politics from ours.

Carter, being an honorable man himself, wanted to heal America. He was a good man who tried to do the right thing. Not so good men disagreed and they decided to fight President Carter tooth and nail.

The people who would oppose everything President Carter did, erupted in an orgy of anger over pardoning “Draft dodgers.” They spouted patriotic slogans. “Honor,” “Duty,” and “Country,” were common argument for war. They intended to drive a stake into the heart of reconciliation. They'd make the most of American's defeat in Vietnam. They blaming the anti war movements and draft dodgers for the defeat.

No one mentioned the determination of the Vietamese people to be free while facing the most powerful nation in the history of the world.

The Masters of War promised to make America great again. Having few principles and no honor, they happily sliced and diced America into factions.

We were no longer people who had common interests. We were either patriots or enemies of the state, according to the love it or leave it folks. You either loved America and obeyed its leaders or you were a traitor.

Then there were those of us who didn't think the government represented the people's best interests.

Why did our politicians think that the only answer to a disagreement between nations should ends in war?

*****

For the first time since we'd moved to the conservancy house, Pop walked on the beach behind the house. He discovered there was a river nearly a mile up the beach. He saw the back of Ivan's house for the first time, though he'd known it was there since I met Ivan. I lived at his house when I was a fisherman.

When I came home from work in the evening, Pop, Dylan, and I went swimming. At fifty-six my father allowed me to teach him to swim. It helped him to become stronger. On days when I came in early from work, Pop, Dylan, and I went swimming. Pop began to appreciate the Gulf of Mexico being so close.

The twenty pounds the doctors told Pop to lose were gone by February. Between being sick and not having an appetite, he insisted on swimming for an hour each day.

Pop looked ten years younger than he did before his heart attack. Even before he got sick, he looked tired and no longer had the zip he once had.

Pop's doctors were pleased with his progress.

*****

It was March when I came down to breakfast before going to work. Mama was all a glow. It was like she was walking on air. She danced around the kitchen as she slid my flapjacks on my plate. I'd never seen my mother more radiant.

“Mama, what's gotten into you. You act like a little girl,” I said.

“Your father's better,” she sang as she blushed from her confession.

I was in my car on the way to work when I got it. I began laughing. I laughed each time I thought about it. I hoped Mama's God wasn't peeking.

Harry didn't allow Pop to come back to work until April. He'd talked to his own father's cardiologist and that's when he decided Pop would be ready to work.

Pop had begun to worry that he wasn't needed any more.

When Pop returned to work on Monday, April 4, 1977, he found a brand new pickup truck with his name stenciled above the door. This would be Pop's truck. It would no longer be an all purpose vehicle for running errands.

Harry bought two additional trucks when he bought the one for Pop. They were used by the two employees assigned to the shop. Pop would supervise them. After being called to Harry's office upon his return, Pop no longer needed to be the gopher, laborer, and on site engineer who kept the conservancy running.

There was a new salary, a title, General Manager of the Sanibel Island Conservancy, and a warm hug to greet Pop upon his return.

My father had finally been recognized for the tireless work he'd done for year after year without fanfare. Starting the week after Pop's heart attack, Harry began to realize how good my father was at keeping things operational.

Now Pop came to work after I was in the lab and studying the latest find from my reef. He'd be leaving as I was preparing to wrap up whatever analysis I had underway. Harry had given Pop strict orders.

“Don't let me catch you here before nine or after five, John. Do I make myself clear? I can't replace you. That means we need to take care of you.”

Pop told us this at the dinner table his first day back at work. His fears over being replaced were unfounded and he'd be employed by the conservancy for a long time to come.

I'd never seen Pop happier than the day he went back to work.

*****

Teddy flew to Orlando in January to begin negotiations to buy a company he'd been doing business with for years. He'd keep his Vancouver operation as his home base. Teddy would be an international entrepreneur now that he was able to come home.

He'd keep a residence in both Vancouver and Orlando. Teddy was happy to be able to return home and see his family again, but he didn't trust his government. President Carter was a man who kept his word, but there would be other presidents. He couldn't be sure one wouldn't decide to settle old scores.

After completing business, Teddy bought a 1977 Cadillac Eldorado and he drove to the conservancy house for the first time in almost ten years.

He came to take his mother and father to dinner. He wanted them to go in style. The Eldorado was just a little longer than the Seaswirl. I think it could have easily seated John-Henry, Brian, and their families with room for Mama and Pop.

Mama said she wasn't having any of it. She wanted to fix dinner for a son who hadn't put his legs under her table in way too long.

You didn't argue with Mama when she put her foot down.

Lucy, Dylan, and I ate too. My brother didn't seem to mind. By the way he ate, I'd say he was delighted to be eating his mother's cooking again.

“Teddy and John-Henry are fine but don't ever let Brian come back,” Dylan said before bedtime. “I'll run away from home if you do. He's a mess.”

“I'll run away with you, kiddo,” I said.

My son was an excellent judge of character. He liked most people and Teddy was an impressive looking man who talked intelligently. He didn't brag about being a successful man, but he did speak of the struggle after leaving his family and going to Canada.

My earliest memories of Teddy were of him dragging his wagon around, which he bought himself using money he earned cutting lawns. He collected soda bottles people left scattered around, taking them to the market to collect the two cents bounty on each. Teddy had a route that ran along the main highway. I went with him once and watched as soda bottles came sailing out of the cars.

“This place is a gold mine,” Teddy said, smiling all the way to the market.

He kept a catchall bag on the side of his wagon to put trash in. When he got home, he'd dump the trash in our trash can.

“What's that?” I asked.

“There are a lot of slobs out there, Clay. If someone doesn't pick up the trash, we'll drown in the stuff one day.”

At ten Teddy was the first environmentalist I knew and he'd given me my first lesson on ecology.

No matter what the government called him, he was one of the most honorable men I knew, and he could finally come home again.

*****

Chapter 29

Career Move

Pop's recovery and Teddy's visit to the conservancy house made 1977 a banner year. I was back at work in January and happy for what I had.

Harry didn't make his first trip home until a month after the new session of congress started and the 39th President's Inauguration.

*****

While Washington was rolling along, my Nikon didn't have time to cool off. The new reef was yielding a unique opportunity to hone my photographic skills. Each dive provided a new experience, which kept me captivated until my air ran low.

Each time I left my reef, I started planning my next dive. I approached from a different angle on each dive. The life on the west side of the reef was somewhat different from the life on the other three sides.

Bill Payne's first trips to the conservancy that year came during February. While going through a pile of new pictures I'd taken during the new year, he discovered a fresh water fish native to Asia. He also found two species he'd never seen before. This kept Bill there until we could make a dive to see the reef for himself.

Bill became the first person I took there. Until then Dylan was the only other person who knew it was there, but he didn't know how important it had become to my work.

The crisp bright richness of the colors and the many species caught Bill's attention. The less prominent pastel colored sea creatures came in a variety of shapes and designs. It made for a successful dive.

Bill had been diving in the Pacific where they discovered new species on every dive. The research was the first to document the many strange life forms in Pacific waters a mile deep. With all that on his mind, he still thought my reef was a major find.

“Clay, I can't tell you how impressive your reef is. Are you keeping it to yourself,” Bill asked, after getting out of his gear.

“I've told no one but Pop and Harry. You're the first person to dive here with me.”

“I'd suggest you keep it to yourself. As soon as someone else finds out it's here, well, no one will take care of it the way you can.”

We went to J.K.'s for fried clams to complete the afternoon.

*****

Bill and I talked about Harry's reelection. I told him that our exuberance over Harry's victory was short lived, because of Pop's heart attack.

The 1976 election had been the first time I campaigned with Harry full time in October. He received his first substantial challenge for his seat by a Republican candidate.

I went where Harry went, spoke where he spoke, and I met the big donors who wanted him reelected. I went to campaign stops in the back of the limo with Harry. This meant I left with him and accompanied him to most functions.

It was difficult not to let the way these people lived affect me. It was impressive. We ate at restaurants with special rooms arranged by a donor. The all male gathering drank very old booze, smoked Cuban cigars, sitting in tight little circles to speak in low voices as cigar smoke encircled them.

I only once questioned Harry about my presence at such affairs.

“Harry, Reginald can drive me home and come back for you. I don't belong here. I'm no more than window dressing.”

“Don't be silly. You belong with me. You're a major part of what I do. You're my adviser and the man responsible for the conservancy's reputation. When I speak at an event, I'm the person they come to hear, Clay. You're the person they listen to. Why do you think I want you with me. I want my donors to know who you are.”

The men at these gatherings filled Harry's campaign war chest with green backs. He knew them, their desires, and nodded when a donor told him what he wanted.

Some nights dinner was at the home of one of these men. There would be a dozen men at dinner. Harry fit right in with them. You got to their house on a private road. In front of the house was a horseshoe driveway. The car stopped at the front entrance. If you were chauffeured by someone like Reginald, you got out and he knew where to park. If the arriving party didn't have someone like Reginald driving, a man took the car keys and parked it after they went inside, bringing it back for them once the owner appeared on the front stairway.

A few times the houses were larger than the conservancy house and three or four men met with Harry in a private room deep in the bowels of the house. I went where Harry went and no one blinked twice. I was seeing how the other half lived.

Black men in white coats with white gloves on their hands came and went silently. No one but me seemed to see them. I ate from the silver trays with eatables they left behind. One of them stood outside the circle, reaching in for a glass, renew the ice, and pouring more booze on top. In a minute or two they were gone.

The conversation was serious and involved. Many times I had little idea what was being discussed. Harry knew what each word meant. He knew what each man wanted. He knew the odds on whether or not they'd get what they wanted.

After an hour or maybe two, the butler would swing open the doors wide, announcing, “Gentlemen, dinner is served.”

You couldn't confuse one of these dinners with one of Mama's. No one hurried to the table. No one took their drink or cigar.

I could see the men cleaning up after the men went to eat. They'd be enjoying long puffs on cigars and downing what was left of booze so smooth you didn't feel it going down.

Mama had dinner ready at seven most evenings, because working men got home after six and they needed to relax before coming to the table. It's how it had always been at my house.

At these sumptuous late night dinners, we might not sit down until after eleven. I got the impression this is what these men called their work. This is where tings were decided.

I could picture the large swimming pool behind the house. It's where the real labor was done. Once they got out of bed, they sat by the pool signing their dividend checks and eating breakfast.

Some seemed like regular guys, like Harry, but most of them earned their wealth the old fashion way, they inherited it. There was something to be said for being born to well-to-do parents.

If I hadn't been with Harry, I'd never gotten a look at those houses. Inside the houses were men willing to pay big bucks to have a congressman's ear.

*****

Even with a challenge from Harry's right, he won in a walk.

The only celebrating I did with Harry was at his house the night he was reelected. There were other celebrations planned, but Pop fell ill before they were scheduled to take place.

I didn't get to ask Harry about being allowed to see inside the mechanism that kept him in power. I hadn't asked him how I made it into his inner sanctum at his house the year before. None of the other guests did that night.

I took note of what was said. I learned from the help, who came and went silently, saying nothing unless I was spoken to. I acted like I wasn't really there.

What was most apparent inside those massive homes I followed Harry into, it felt formal and the houses were cold. The conservancy house was warm. As big as it was, it was cozy within. The people inside the conservancy house provided it with warmth and it extended to all who came there, except for maybe Brian.

Harry inherited his wealth just like his rich donors. He had a job before he ran for his father's seat in congress. I'd seen how Harry lived. It was comfortable. There was a lot of living done inside his home. It was rarely silent for long.

I learned a lot from Harry. Whatever he did was fine with me. He'd given me a shot at a career. Nothing I did before that added up to a career.

Then, Bill Payne, soon to be my professor, showed me the underwater world. It was a life altering event.

Now, I told my story and I made sure people knew Harry was responsible for what I did and my ability to do it. Harry saw the future and I was the tool that would make it possible.

People knew me because I told a story about being a marine biologist. I became more than an employee and his donors met, Harry's man in the Gulf, Clayton Olson.

It was hard to separate me from Harry, even though I'd have felt more comfortable with the chauffeurs in the back of the kitchen.

Harry presented me to the men in those houses and they greeted me warmly. Once that was over, I stayed close to Harry, and when Harry was in the middle of a meeting, I stayed to one side.

*****

Pop's heart attack yanked me back to the here and now.

As good as things were, and professionally things couldn't have been better, Pop's heart attack reminded me of what was important.

I loved where I lived and I loved what I did. I wouldn't take all the money Harry's donors had in exchange for what I had.

Pop being ill reminded me how things could turn on a dime. The summer Boris went missing, my life was wonderful. One minute in Ivan's kitchen with his mother and father changed our lives forever.

Nothing I was or did was as important as my father.

There were good days while Pop was sick. I got to see my brothers. I hadn't seen them in years. I was glad they showed Pop the respect he'd earned. They came to lift his spirits and that made life at the conservancy house better for a time.

We got the gift we all wanted at Christmas 1976.

*****

Ivan came to mind for the first time in a while the last week of 1976. There was a good reason for that.

The last time I saw Ivan, my twenty-fourth birthday, he said he'd be gone for two years. As the holidays rolled around that year, it had been over two and a half years and I hadn't had much time to think about him.

While Ivan could upset my life faster than any one, I was getting beyond that. As time went on, he was irrelevant to who I'd become as a man. Ivan and I lived different lives in different places.

That didn't mean the first phone call to the conservancy house in three years didn't catch me off guard. Three phone calls threw me off balance. He wasn't going to do it to me again. I wouldn't sit next to the phone waiting.

Ivan was alive. I had proof. Mama heard his voice.

She got the first two phone calls the week between Christmas and New Years. I wasn't home either time. He had perfect timing. I hardly left the house between Christmas and New Years.

He'd call back New Years Eve, according to Mama.

He didn't say I should be next to the phone on New Years Eve. He knew right where I'd be.

While Pop was recovering during the holidays, we were all content to stay close to home. None of us needed to be anywhere as much as we needed to be at the house.

The first time Ivan called I'd gone to Piggly Wiggly for yeast, grits, and potatoes. When he called the second time, I'd gone to the lab for five minutes to check on what I'd written about a new species of fish that had appeared on my reef.

I didn't go out the rest of the week but it was New Years Eve when Ivan called next. I wanted to hear his voice.

It was almost eight by the time Mama and Lucy began clearing the table. Dylan and I were taking our pie upstairs where we'd continue reading Twain's Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.

Dylan carried the two glasses of milk and I carried the pie. As my foot hit the first step on my way upstairs, the phone rang. I raced to the phone, put down the pie, and picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” I yelled into the phone, figuring it was Ivan.

I yelled because he was half way around the world. It made sense at the time.

“Hey, babe, nice to hear you yelling at me again,” he said.

I could see the smile on a youthful Ivan's face.

“Ivan, how are you?” I yelled. “Where are you?”

There was no reply.

The phone had gone dead.

I listened to the dial tone buzzing in my ear. I hung up, staring at the phone, willing it to ring and I waited.

“Ivan?” Mama asked, taking the pie so Dylan didn't need to wait for me to deliver it. “He said he was calling by short wave when he called before. He was in... something with a land at the end.”

“Thailand?”

“Thailand. That's where he said he was,” Mama said.

“He's supposed to be in Cambodia. What's he doing in Thailand?”

“It's the holidays. You said he was working. Maybe he got time off. Do they have holidays over there?” Mama asked.

I didn’t think so, but why not. He was having a gay old time in Thailand and I was... waiting for him to call back.

“Mama, leave my pie here. It might take him time to get another call through. Tell Dylan I'll be up in a few minutes. Don't tell him I'm waiting for Ivan to call.”

And so I spent New Year's Eve beside the phone.

Mama brought down my glass of milk. I'd lost my appetite.

“Dylan says he'll wait for you,” Mama said. “He'll read another book until you come upstairs. He's in his room.”

Dylan was going to be allowed to see in the New Year with the adults this year. My bet was he'd fall asleep before we rang in New Years, but he had permission to stay up if he wanted.

Pop passed behind me to go to bed at nine. He patted my back but didn't say anything.

“Dylan's waiting for you to read to him. I'll stay by the phone,” Lucy offered. “Don't make your son wait for you. You've been waiting half your life for Ivan, Clay.”

“I got two lines out of him. It's not enough after two and half years. I want to answer it in case we only have a minute,” I said, thinking I'd waste twenty seconds getting down to the phone, if I didn't trip and break my neck doing it.

“Thanks, Luce,” I said, realizing my sister was trying to help. “You want to read to him?”

“Not on your life. That's the book you're reading together. He's adamant about which book he reads with whom, in case you haven't noticed.”

Dylan came out on the third floor landing and looked down at me after nine and again at ten. The phone hadn't rung and it wasn't going to ring.

After Dylan's second visit to the landing, I got up and went upstairs. I didn't ask Lucy to stay by the phone. He wasn't calling back and I'd been waiting for Ivan for next to forever.

We read in my bedroom. It was too cool to read on the porch.

Dylan was reading a book in his bedroom when he heard me. He came into my bedroom.

Dylan was growing but he had a thin frame. He could fit in the same rocking chair with me if I gave him enough room. I did when he stood in front of me waiting for me to move over.

He wrapped his arms around my arm as I began to read. This was unusually affectionate for Dylan. He didn't need to be as close to me the way he once did. I put my arm over his shoulder, feeling lucky to have my son.

I'd read several pages and it was nearly ten thirty.

“My father?” Dylan asked in a tone I couldn't identify.

I stopped reading and looked at him for some sign of his mood.

“Yeah. How do you know when I'm thinking about him?”

“You get very quiet, Daddy. Is he ever going to come home to us? I mean, am I ever going to know my father?”

“I wish I knew, kiddo. I wish I knew.”

“I won't be like you. He can't just walk in and out of my life any time he feels like. He gets one shot, Daddy. If he blows it, he's done as far as I'm concerned. I've got one Daddy. I don't really need two.”

It was about as much as Dylan said on the subject.

I began to read again. He never asked for a turn and reading helped to keep my mind off Ivan.

I carried Dylan into his room and tucked him in at eleven and I went downstairs.

I sat with Mama and Lucy as we waited to welcome 1977 to the conservancy house.

What kind of year would this one be?

Would Ivan finally come home?

Would Ivan ever come home?

*****

As the first few months of 1977 clicked off, my twenty-seventh birthday was fast approaching. Growing older, I realized my life was in my own hands now. I had a great son, a wonderful family, and my work continued to excite me.

Once I might have let events or people throw me for a loop. I no longer let that happen. I was secure enough with who I was to stick to my guns when I was pressured. I couldn't be rushed. What I needed to do I'd do in my own time.

As environmentalism became more popular, my work became more informative. At first requests for me to speak were mostly local.

When I spoke, I spoke as an advocate for the environment. At the end of a talk, I told my audience, 'We can't have a healthy environment if we don't all make an effort to keep it clean. Each of you can do your part by cleaning up after yourself and never dump anything into our waterways.”

These words always inspired applause.

*****

I knew how lucky I was to be asked to speak to school kids, local groups, and businessmen. With news articles that were written about Harry's campaign often included a paragraph about my presentation at campaign events.

This inspired invitations to speak on behalf of the environment.

*****

My popularity and the adventure that was my career was about to undergo an unexpected change. This change would also track back to my place in Harry's campaign.

*****

It took until late February for Harry to make it home long enough for us to have lunch at the Gulf Club and talk turkey over lobster.

“With a new president in town we're staying busy. How's the Seaswirl, Clayton. It holding up? Running OK?”

“Sure,” I said. “Runs like a top. You were right. I spend a lot of time on that boat, Harry. It was a smart buy.”

“I have a new fish finder for you,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“I don't use the one we have. I play with it to see what's in the water under me. Don't waste your money on another one.”

“I'm afraid you'll need to take it,” he said. “It's on your new boat.”

“New boat?”

“Yeah, it's a package deal. The fish finder comes with it.”

“The Seaswirl is fine. I don't need a new boat. Harry. This doesn't sound like you. What's up?”

“It's not what you'd call a boat. Not really. Not like the Seaswirl is a boat anyway. This is... bigger, as in very big. It has to be to accommodate the things we want it to do.”

“Big?” I said, baffled by talk of a boat I didn't need or want.

“Big as in over 35 feet but not quite 40 feet.”

“What do I need with a boat that size? I dive. I take water samples, and I measure sea currents. Eighteen feet of boat is fine.”

“It's more than a diving platform,” Harry explained, sipping his drink as he watched my face. “It'll be a copy of the research vessels Bill goes out on. Not as big as those but the Gulf of Mexico doesn't require the size boat you want under you in the Pacific or Atlantic,” Harry said.

“Bill will be ordering the state of the art equipment for your laboratories on the boat. You're about to become the man everyone wants to talk to about the Gulf of Mexico, Clayton. You'll be able to do things no other marine biologist on the Gulf Coast can do and you'll do it faster.”

“Laboratories? I'm lost, Harry. What are you talking about?”

“Three laboratories actually. Bill Payne is using the research vessels he's worked on as a model to set up our research vessel.”

I was still lost and trying to imagine a boat with laboratories.

“I call it the Sea Lab. It'll be your sea going laboratory. You'll be the envy among marine biologists. Few boats in the world will have the capability yours will have. This will be the direction marine biologists will be going in next.”

“Harry, you can't afford what your describing,” I said, laughing at the idea of sea going laboratories. “You've been drinking too much bourbon. I'm no Jacques Cousteau.”

“No, not yet you aren't,” Harry said confidently. “You are Clayton Olson and every environmentalist is going to know your name.”

“This is twice you've made me feel uncomfortable, congressman. I know a thing like this would cost way more than you're willing to spend, and so ask again, what's up?”

“No, I can't afford sea going laboratory. Luckily, I'm not buying the boat. One of my donors is, Mr. Mosby. You've met him a few times at campaign related events. Here's our lobster. We'll talk more later. I'll be home a few days this time.”

“Harry! Don't leave me hanging,” I protested.

“Let's enjoy our lobster,” he said, having my full attention. “I've been waiting for this since I left in January. They don't make lobster like this in D.C.”

*****

A yacht the size of the one my laboratories would go into didn't simply pop up in a yacht yard. When Harry took me to see it the first time, the boat was mostly a rear quarter deck area with a lot of framing where the labs would go. Nothing was enclosed above the main deck. The engines were in place. The fiberglass haul was thirteen of my paces long. The engines were in place.

The equipment needed to be installed in the laboratories before the structure could be completed. Some of the gadgets Harry ordered for the boat hadn't arrived yet.

“You can do anything on this boat that you can do in your lab and much more.

I was impressed and more than a little excited once I saw it. If this was the direction marine biology was going in, I didn't mind going along.

*****

It was difficult for me to take work in stride after Harry's February trip home. I got calls from Bill Payne asking me to check out one piece of equipment as opposed to another. I got calls from Harry asking me for suggestions for the colors on the Sea Lab.

Harry, actually the conservancy, was paying for the equipment on the Sea Lab. Everything to do with the boat, Mr. Mosby was paying for.

Harry came home for a week in May. Bill Payne returned from the South China Sea at the same time. We were going on a three day shakedown cruise. It was the three of us, the Sea Lab, and the Sea.

Between the three of us, we figured out the gear. Bill was a veteran on several research vessels. He'd used most of the equipment he ordered for the Sea Lab.

We made a stop at my reef and used up all the air in the SCUBA tanks before returning to the cove.

*****

If the Sea Lab looked big at the ship builders, it looked massive in its slip. It was an impressive craft.

There was no way for me to process everything I found out about the Sea Lab. I'd become more familiar with it once I was using each day. A lot of the equipment was similar to equipment I used in the conservancy lab.

I had a new respect for Harry's donors once the Sea Lab was parked in the conservancy's slip. Not only was I becoming known but the range of my operation was increased remarkably with the Sea Lab under me.

Nothing could have prepared me for the Sea Lab.

Until the Sea Lab was brought into the cove and anchored near the fishing fleet, I didn't tell any one about it. I'd believe it when I saw it. Even after I saw it and went out on it, I didn't believe it.

I turned twenty-seven the week after we took our cruise on the Sea Lab. I really didn't need anything else. Once you have a Sea Lab, what else could you possibly want?

I could only think of one thing I wanted and didn't get.

*****

The Sea Lab was an all-purpose research vessel that made the conservancy lab tame by comparison. I would do my work on the Sea Lab and use the conservancy lab to keep my records and specimens. .

The Sea Lab was equipped with short wave radio and a two way radio that connected me to Pop's shop and Harry's office at the conservancy. The only time I couldn't be reached was when I was underwater.

*****

Dylan wasn't allowed to go with me on the three day cruise. I told him I was going away on business. Since it was his first week on summer vacation, he wanted to go and he sulked when I said no.

The day after we returned from our three days in the Gulf of Mexico, I told Dylan I had work to do at the marina and he go if he wanted. I hadn't mentioned the Sea Lab to him.

Dylan saw the Sea Lab from where I parked the Chevy. He knew it was in the Seaswirl's slip. He cocked his head the way he did when he knew I was up to something. He waited until I went ahead of him down the dock, stopping behind the Sea Lab.

The name was stenciled on the stern in six inch letters.

I was advised to back the boat into the slip. This way, when I was leaving the slip, I wouldn't back into something.

“Sea Lab,” Dylan read, looking up across the stern to the first deck. His eyes moved up to the second deck, offset by a few feet from the first deck. Then he looked up at the bridge.

“Harry bought you this?” Dylan asked.

“A donor of Harry's. He backs Harry in his campaigns. He's one of the men who fund the conservancy's work. He wants us to be out front in the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Damn, Daddy. It's a floating palace.”

“Damn if it isn't. Wait until you see what's inside. It has three labs. The main lab is on this level. Some magnifying equipment and analytical equipment is in the lab on the second deck, along with a small photographic lab where I can develop my pictures. The refrigeration is under this deck in front of two huge Detroit diesels,” I said proudly

“The monitors for the cameras around the boat are on each deck. While I'm in one of the labs or on the bridge, I can see around the boat. I imagine it'll take you a couple of hours to figure it all out and then you can explain it to me,” I said.

“Oh, Daddy!” Dylan said, and then he laughed.

It was true. Dylan had a quick mind and he could use most of the equipment at the conservancy. He liked doing the things i did.

Dylan was impressed and not much impressed my son.

“I want to see everything, Daddy,” he said.

“That's why we started right after breakfast. We have the whole day, kiddo.”

The first lab was where I'd spend most of my time. That's where the equipment I used most was installed. It was narrow but everything was easy to reach and bolted in place. My office was across from that lab and the lounge in front of my office opened onto the stern deck creating a large space so passengers got the feel of being part of the great outdoors while seated inside.

The second lab had some refined microscopes and other magnification equipment. It's where I made my slides for the microscopes. It had six monitors on one wall to give me a view around the ship and in the water under the boat. There were duplicate monitors on the bridge close to where I steered the boat.

After giving Dylan a tour of the Sea Lab, he untied us the way he did with the Seaswirl only there were twice as many lines.

I started the engines, checking gauges while they warmed up.

As I was checking the cove in front of us, Dylan yelled, “Ropes secured, Captain.”

I smiled at the sound of his voice.

Easing the throttle forward to idle, there was a distinctive clunk as the Detroit power took hold. It moved smoothly out of the slip at idling speed.

I didn't need to touch the controls. It idled at 5 mph. We'd filled the tanks after returning from the Sea Lab's first cruise. We were ready to go for as long as we wanted.

“You can feel the power, Daddy,” Dylan said after climbing onto the enclosed bridge.

“Each engine is about half the size of the Chevy.”

“Man, I bet this sucker can fly, Daddy!”

“We'll never know, kiddo. This is too much boat to worry about how fast it can go,” I said.

“Why have all that power if you don't use it?”

“Check the size of this boat. It takes power to get the weight moving. it's built to cruise efficiently at fifteen to twenty mph.”

“I suppose. I'd sure like to see what it will do. Just once. Check to see if we can outrun any pirates around.”

Once we cleared the cove I pushed the throttle to three quarters speed. Harry had it up to twenty-five without using all the throttle. On smooth water you could hardly tell you were moving. It would be a while before I'd be comfortable moving the throttles farther forward.

One thing was for sure, when I was on board the Sea Lab, I was in no hurry.

*****

Chapter 30

Making Hay

Dylan turned nine and on his birthday I gave him the SCUBA gear he'd been waiting for since he was seven. I wanted to wait until he was ten but he reached five feet in March. At ninety-five pounds, considering how fast he was growing, there was no point in making him wait any longer.

The SCUBA gear was in the trunk of the Chevy when I took Dylan to get hush puppies and fried clams at J.K.'s on his birthday. He consumed a double order and drank two root beers. We ate early enough that he'd have room for dinner and the cake and ice cream that came after.

“When are you going to get me the SCUBA gear?” He asked on the way back to the house.

“You know the rule, Dylan,” I said to aggravate him a little before he got what he wanted.

“Daddy, I passed the line months ago. I made you come and look. Don't you remember?”

“Oh, yeah, you did. I've been busy, kiddo.”

“Me too. I've been growing as fast as I can, Daddy. You promised.”

“Let me think about it,” I said.

“Daddy!” he said indignant. “You promised!”

I drove down the driveway, moving to the right so I was out of the way.

“Hey, kiddo, I've got some things in the trunk. You want to get them for me?” I asked, tossing him the keys from the ignition.

Still sulking, he walked to the rear of the car and popped open the trunk.

“Daddy,” he squealed like a little boy.

His reaction made me smile.

He so seldom acted like a kid, I worked to make him feel like one from time to time.

The SCUBA gear was the hit of 1978. If I didn't give my son anything else the SCUBA gear made up for it and all my shortcomings over the years.

By the time I stood with him behind the car, he had on the mask and was putting on the tanks. They weren't too big and he managed them just fine. I worried he couldn't muscle the gear in a pinch.

“Now I have two meetings in the morning and it's too late today. We've got Popov at noon tomorrow. We won't be back until dinner time Wednesday. It's going to be Thursday before I can take you diving with me, kiddo.”

“I know. We're cool, Daddy. You got me the SCUBA gear. I can wait to go diving with you, but don't think you're going to sneak out and go diving without me on Thursday.”

“Not a chance. I've been looking forward to taking you, son. It's one of those special times that means you are growing up. It's something we'll both remember.”

*****

Dylan almost missed our trip with Popov.

It could have been the third piece of cake or the midnight bowl of Cherry Royale ice cream with chocolate sauce, after we were done with Moby Dick for the night.

Popov was surprised that on the way back to the cove, when the ice cream and cake came out to celebrate Dylan's birthday, he didn't dive right in and try to out eat the crew this time.

Popov knew of my apprehension about taking Dylan diving. I'd told him I was buying the SCUBA gear. He bought an expensive regulator with an alarm system that warned when you had five minutes of air left.

Popov whispered to me, “It'll keep our Dylan safe.”

Popov was a good and considerate man. Our lives wouldn't have been nearly as exciting without him.

The fishing continued to be fairly good. The four day weeks were continued. Even the fish warehouse adjusted to the fishing fleet's schedule. The four day work week became the norm.

Following the four day week cut the fleet's expenses enough that the men only took a slight cut in pay and they were home two extra days a week. Ingenuity and creativity made a problem all but disappear by 1978. By cooperating with the plan everyone involved was left smiling and the cove could still depend on the fishing fleet to support the fish warehouse, J.K.'s, and the Bait Shop.

Conserving a resource meant that resource would still be there far into the future.

As a hit and miss marine biologist, looking for answers, I'd lucked out and there was never another year as bad as 1975. The bad year made change possible.

*****

On the Thursday after Dylan's birthday, I took him with me on my dive. I fired up the Sea Lab as Dylan took care of the ropes. He came to the bridge to stand beside me.

“Take the helm, sailor,” I said. “Use idle until we leave the cove.”

“Are you serious?”

“We're going to dive together. You need to be able to drive the Sea Lab from slip to dive site and back to the slip. I'll back it in once we get back, but you do the driving today.”

“All right!” Dylan said, dropping the throttle into idle.

“Always check for smaller boats and people in the water. I you see something in conflict with us, move the throttle to neutral. At this speed we'll drift forward but not with any force.”

He'd already turned toward the cove entrance nearly a mile away. In ten minutes we passed the final 5 mph sign and a minute later we reach the big green sign that told us to get up to Gulf speed.

Dylan moved the throttle to the halfway mark and watched ahead as he held the wheel.

I remembered the first time I was on the Sea Lab. I had no idea how big it was. It simply looked huge.

Then Harry said, “Take us out, captain. This is your boat.”

At twenty-seven, I was petrified. What if I hit something? What if I couldn't drive it? What if...?

I wanted Dylan to be at home in the water and on any boat he went out on.

When Harry took the Sea Lab out with donors on board. I was at the helm. The salon was set up with a bar and sliding glass doors that made the small space part of the rear deck. While I guided us into the Gulf, Harry served drinks and snacks. I figured it was Harry treating me the way I was treating Dylan.

I watched Dylan and marveled at his lack of fear.

*****

I remember when I first met Ivan. He was fearless too. I'd never done anything with any danger in it until I met Ivan. Then there was risk in almost everything we did. We weren't insane but we did push the outside of the envelope if having fun required it.

As long as I was with Ivan, I knew I'd be fine.

The most dangerous thing we did as boys was to love each other. I didn't know how risky that was as a teenager. No one had to tell me how risky it was now that I was a man.

As a boy you could slip out of the compromise you make when you love another boy. When you're a man, it's best to keep it secret. There are people who think it's their job to ferret out homosexuals.

I never could figure out why that was. Loving Ivan was about the best thing I ever did. I was good at it. With the shape the world was in, wouldn't people be better served trying to bring peace and harmony to it, instead of condemning the love I felt?

Everything I was and everything I'd achieved would have been destroyed if it became know that I loved Ivan. It wouldn't do to let that get around.

I didn't have much to worry about since Ivan had been gone for my entire adult life. How it was my feelings for him were so strong, it was difficult to tell.

I didn't know if Ivan was dead or alive but I knew I loved him.

*****

I set the compass so Dylan would take us directly to the reef he discovered over two years before. It was a similar clear hot day without a breeze to cool us.

I hadn't taken Dylan back to the reef after we snorkeled that day. He'd have bugged me to death for diving equipment if he knew the magnitude of what we found.

Today he'd find out.

“Drop it back to idle. Once the momentum is gone, put it in neutral and drop the anchor. Let the engine run a couple of minutes before shutting it down,” I instructed him.

“Where are we going diving?” Dylan asked.

“Fifty feet off port. I don't anchor too close. Coral is fragile and we don't want to spook the sea life.”

We stood on deck near the ladder and I checked Dylan out on the SCUBA gear.

“The alarm is set. When it sounds, you have five minutes of air. You immediately begin to surface the way I told you. Come up ten feet and wait a minute and go up another ten feet until you reach the surface. I'll surface with you the first time, but I have fifty minutes more air than you do.”

“Why's that?” he asked, looking at me through his face mask.

“Size of the tanks. That's a relatively small tank. I've got two big tanks. I'll come up when you do this time.”

“I can do it,” Dylan assured me.

“I know you can, but I'm your father and I worry about you. Let me do it this once and then you'll be fine if you feel comfortable doing it from start to finish.”

“Cool,” he said, smiling at me.

I went down about twenty feet, keeping one eye on him. When I rolled onto my stomach and began working my way toward the reef, he followed right behind me.

We stopped at a spot twenty-five feet off starboard from where a new sliver of reef had begun to extend outward from the main reef about twenty feet or so. Once there I indicated for Dylan to remain still.

There was a small indention in the floor of the Gulf with some debris that hid us nicely. In a few minutes life on the reef began to appear. There were two yellow and a red fish and several tiny fish swimming in and out of the reef.

Needless to say, Dylan was blown away by what he saw his first time underwater. He was still as a mouse and his eyes stayed wide open and focused on any motion he saw.

After forty minutes, the alarm on the regulator went off. Dylan immediately indicated with his thumb that he was going to surface. I had him move back from the reef and then followed ten feet behind him monitoring his progress. Dylan did fine He was too enraptured to have any fear.

“Daddy, the colors are incredible. Where does a reef like this come from anyway?”

“It grows,” I said. “Something sinks to the bottom and the coral begins to form. It's a slow process but the reef attracts life forms that are mostly native to these waters. It's part of the ecosystem.”

“When can I come back, Daddy?”

“I have nothing on for Sunday. Want to go diving?”

“Yes! I can't wait.”

*****

Being another election year, I'd begun early with Harry's donors. I strutted my stuff, told stories, and schmoozed with the high rollers. It was no longer a challenge. These were the people who paid the freight to make me a force in the Gulf of Mexico. They loved hearing stories about the important work I was doing.

Harry didn't get home for the August recess until a week into August. It was all systems go when he did. The next few months, up until the election, time flew. We were in constant motion. Most of my talks were local but we did speak in Tampa once, which was more about the conservancy than Harry's run for congress.

*****

At twenty-eight and confident, campaigning with Harry was a blast. It was old hat. I knew what to do and say. To most of Harry's campaign workers and donors, I was simply Clay.

Getting out of the lab and away from my routine was refreshing. Telling people about my work gave me a new depth of appreciation for it. Even if they called me, 'Harry's boy,' I had my story to tell. It was evolving. Harry's boy told stories about the Sea Lab and what it was like diving into the Gulf to study the sea life.

The shy young Clay had given away to a better prepared version. Everything I knew was no longer things I had been taught. By using what I was taught, I learned things no one told me about.

Harry had gone as far as he could as the chairman of the environmental committee. Everything he could get done was done. Carter was more interested in the environment than Ford, but Carters problem was with fossil fuel.

The country was dependent on it when Carter took office and in the middle seventies finding a gas station with gas was the great American pass time.

Carter put something called 'solar panels' on the roof of the White House. By the year 2000 he promised we'd get twenty percent of our power from renewable sources.

OPEC would no longer be able to cripple us again by cutting off our oil if we followed Carter's plan.

*****

No one ran against Harry in 1978. The campaign was fun and everyone was having a good time.

The talk of a Senator McCallister had begun. Harry's time was coming and where Harry went, I wasn't far behind.

I hadn't guessed how powerful Harry was, until he let other powerful people know that he had Ivan's back and one eye on them.

I knew senators were far more powerful than congressman.

*****

Until I was handed the keys to the Sea Lab, I felt as though I walked in the shadow of other men. I knew my business. I didn't need to be told what to do or what to say.

Most of what I did was a routine developed under Bill Payne's supervision. My original speeches were developed with Harry.

The first time I took the Sea Lab out alone, I began to develop a new approach to my audiences. Little of it came from Harry, save the appeals for the audience to help keep the Gulf clean and for donors to do their part in keeping Harry in office, the conservancy running, and me in business.

The Sea Lab provided me with a photographic lab. I'd discovered the art of creating my own slides by reading the manuals that came with the photographic equipment. I would show people what my underwater world looked like.

I began producing a slide-show to go with my talk. This added a dimension to my story and it allowed me to share my reef without putting it at risk. I would take the audience into my underwater world.

I took pictures of the Sea Lab inside and out. I closed my slide-show by taking the audience on a tour of the research vessel that allowed me to do the work I described.

The Sea Lab was the star of the show and it got the biggest applause.

*****

Harry and Bill still came by my laboratory to read my notes and look into my files. They were no longer looking over my shoulder to help refine my work. They were reading what I had to say about my work, because we were all in the same business.

*****

I took the slide projector out of the photographic lab and I installed it on a shelf inside Harry's bar in the salon on the Sea Lab. I had a picture of a substantial mako shark blown up and I hung it opposite the bar in the salon. When I turned the picture around, the back became the screen to see the slides on.

I didn't tell any one about the slide-show, until I sprung it on Harry and a couple of donors he wanted me to drive around one evening. I waited until I could get down to the salon, letting the Sea Lab idle ten miles off the coastline.

When I shut off the lights, except for two red running lights, I turned the projector on and began talking as it automatically clicked from one slide to the next. I'd only loaded twenty slides, because I didn't know what the reaction would be.

After some initial grousing about being left in the dark, the room went silent, except for me and the click of the projector when the slides changed.

“Next time, I'll fill your glasses before the shew starts. Damn, Clayton, you didn't tell me you had gone into show business. That was an impressive presentation.”

I knew that Harry's donors were a tough audience. If they'd sit through a slide-show, regular people probably would too.

The Sea Lab was mine and only during election time did Harry request I take his donors out for a cruise. Donors were impressed by the craft and Harry requested the slide-show on each cruise.

Mr. Mosby, father of the Sea Lab, was almost always on board for the campaign events, admiring what he'd made possible.

*****

When Harry first described the Sea Lab to me, I had trouble picturing it and where it would fit into a simple marine biologists life. Now I was getting the best pictures I'd ever taken. Specimens were preserved within an hour after they came out of the water and my work expanded beyond what I was originally doing.

*****

I'd built a collection of two thousand slides by the summer of 1978. It was election time again and I'd have different slides for each cruise donors went on, I could last for two hours before running out of steam, but even I knew that was too long to hold an audience.

*****

This was how my life went until election time 1978. I spent more time on the Sea Lab than I spent at the conservancy lab. There was so much to see and do the year flew past.

*****

1978 was a very good year in a string of good years. I was enjoying my work more than ever.

*****

It was shortly after Harry's reelection that year, and I was glad it was over, and I got to go back to a more enjoyable routine.

Once I began diving on the reef after being away from it for nearly two months, I got a big idea. I was finally going to take something away from the shipwreck.

The two coconuts I used to hold open the double doors to the porch outside my bedroom had rotted and smelled. Two bricks from the ones scattered on the floor of the Gulf near the reef would do the job and never rot.

I had been super careful so I wasn't caught. Not that any one had ever come around when I parked the Sea Lab there. I was five miles off the coast and it was too close in for deep sea fishing, and tour boats traveled within sight of the coast.

Once I decided to bring up two of the bricks I'd discovered after a storm that year. I hooked up a basket, went down and swam to the bricks, bringing two back to the basket.

I secured them and used up the rest of my air surveying the reef. When I had five minutes of air left, I surfaced and prepared to pull up my booty.

I looked all around understanding that what I was doing was technically criminal, but as usual the sea was empty and I pulled the basket up and deposited the two brinks on the Sea Lab's deck.

I was engrossed by the barnacle-covered ballast I'd recovered from the floor of the Gulf. Seeing it out of the water made it more remarkable than when it was among hundreds of bricks just like it.

I knew I was alone. Only Pop knew where I was diving.

So I was comfortable my crime had gone undetected. There was something exciting about having something from the reef where I spent the lions share of my time. They'd work to hold my doors open.

Probably because I wasn't supposed to be liberating anything off a salvage site, I kept feeling like I wasn't alone with my larceny.

I was ready to secure my gear and I'd head back to the cove.

A routine can lull you into a false sense of security. It did me.

Ivan got the location of my dive from Pop. Harry's man at the marina was happy to drive Ivan to my location. He came on board while I was underwater. I didn't notice the boat coming or going.

As I lollygagged over my bricks, Ivan drew me back to reality.

Nude, standing in the salon's sliding glass doors, he hailed me.

“Hey good looking. Want a date?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was easy to see how many years had passed since I'd had a good look at my lover. It's not something I wanted to rush.

He was a full grown man carrying fifteen or twenty more pounds, which added definition to what had always been an impressive build to me. Seeing him was a shock. We were both 28 and far beyond the exciting days of our youth.

Ivan was very much alive, or maybe I surfaced too fast and was just seeing what I dreamed of seeing so often.

He proved it was no dream and I wasn't hallucinating. Ivan knew what I liked and he wasted no time seeing I got it. Resistance was futile. It was also something that didn't interest me.

After some initial anger, I shut up to concentrate on making love. My lust proved more powerful than my anger.

Who knew if I'd see him again.

Making love seemed to be the thing to do at a time like that. Seeing him left me speechless anyway.

*****

Once I parked the Sea Lab, he carried my air tanks for me. I remembered him carrying my books at school after Sunshine died. We were still teenagers then.

Ivan stood with his big hands on my car door after telling me he had to go. I was barely able to hold back the tears.

Ivan had come home and I had to get away from him now.

He had to move back when I started backing up. He stood watching me through the windshield as I turned on the highway toward home.

I drove away so he didn't see me crying. I wasn't going to let him see me cry over him.

Ivan told me, “The search is over. The Russians will take me to Boris. Once they do that, I'll bring him home. Then I'll come home.”

I pulled onto the shoulder of the road out of sight of the marina. It was ten minutes to home. It would take most of an hour to get there. It would take that long to be able to see through my tears. I cried ten years worth. It all flowed out of me. I couldn't stop it.

*****

The son of a bitch did it to me again.

He kept me hanging on all these years.

Ivan had come home for the first time in years.

He left me again.

*****

I was late for dinner.

Ivan's appearance and disappearance left me dazed and more angry at him than usual. He was never coming home.

I wanted him to leave me alone.

I went upstairs to wash my face before going to the table.

“Clayton, what's wrong with your eyes?” Mama asked immediately.

I'd prepared for the question.

“Oh, I got water in my face mask, Mama. You know how salty that water is.”

Pop looked across the table at me. Lucy patted the back of my hand. Dylan studied my face.

Mama had never been any closer to the Gulf than on the beach chair she put out behind the house when Dylan went swimming alone.

“I'll get the eye drops. You look awful,” Mama said.

“After dinner,” I said. “They're fine.”

“You've got good eyes, Clay. Olsons are blessed with good eyes. You need to protect them,” Mama said.

“You should keep eye drops on that floating palace of yours,” Pop said, not looking at me as he spoke.

I laughed uncomfortably. Pop was the weak link in my story.

“You were late,” Pop said. “Someone keep you?”

“No one I care to talk about, Pop,” I said, cringing.

My father saw Ivan at the conservancy before he came out to the Sea Lab. He saw my eyes. My father wasn't a stupid man. He dished up peas and he had no more to say.

I made it through dinner acting cheerful. As soon as I finished, I excused myself without eating my dessert. I went upstairs to lie on my bed. I cried again. I don't know why.

I needed to wipe my eyes when Mama came in with the eye drops. I don't think she was fooled. She put the eye drops next to the picture on my nightstand.

“You'll want to use those right away. Put them in every two hours until you go to bed. Put them in your eyes in the morning.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said.

“You look tired, Clayton. You need to get more sleep.”

“Yes, ma'am. I should,” I said as Mama left me alone.

Crying does wear a guy out.

*****

I woke up with Dylan sitting on the edge of my bed next to me.

“Was my father here?” Dylan asked, an accusation in his words.

“What?”

“My father. You know, the guy in the picture with you.”

“You couldn't possibly know that,” I said.

“Every time you talk to him, he upsets you, Daddy. I'd like to belt him.”

“We're civilized, Dylan. Civilized people don't belt each other.”

“Yeah, well I'd like to belt him for what he does to you. Why doesn't he just leave you alone?”

“For the same reason it upsets me to hear from him. There's no way you know he was here. Tell me the truth.”

“I heard Grandpop tell Lucy that Ivan had been at the conservancy. Why didn't he stop to see his kid?”

“He was passing through, Dylan. He came out to the Sea Lab where I was diving.”

“Then he left.”

“Then he left,” I confirmed.

“And you're crying over him? I won't cry over him. I promise you that. I don't like my father very much.”

“You don't know your father, Dylan. He says he knows where your uncle is. He's going to get him. Then, he says he's coming home.”

“You believe him? I don't like what he does to you, Daddy.”

“We'll see, kiddo. We'll see.”

*****

In April of 1979 Popov came into my office one day shortly before noon. He'd mentioned going to lunch together on one of his days in port. I enjoyed his company and J.K.'s had a couple of items I loved, so I was glad to see him.

Popov was unusually pleased with himself. I'd never seen him happier. Only his fleet with full holds made him happier. He chortled as he sat down next to my desk.

“Popov, what are you so happy about? You didn't catch any fish today,” I said, smiling at my guest.

“I spoke to the friend of yours today, Clay,” he said, absolutely effervescent. “The friend is my friend too.”

I made some final entries on a specimen I'd collected the day before. Popov didn't usually talk in riddles. I sat back to think about it.

'The friend of mine who is the friend of yours,' I thought.

“Captain Tito meeting us for lunch?” I asked without solving the riddle.

My mind was still in marine biology mode. It made no sense.

“Yes, he is. Someone else too,” he said, not telling me.

“You got me,” I said. “I'm ready any time you are. I'm starved.”

“It is going to be surprising, Clay,” Popov said, standing as I stood.

“I'm surprised you're playing twenty questions,” I said. “You look like that cat who just ate the canary,” I said, Popov laughed loudly. “You drive. Nicky will need a ride back to the marina,” Popov said.

“Nicky? Mr. Aleksa is here?” I asked, unsure I'd heard him correctly.

He'd been gone so long I didn't think I'd see him again. When I entered J.K.'s, I was immediately searching for Ivan's father.

I was blindsided. Mr. Aleksa almost knocked me down, hugging me and laughing loudly. My feet were off the floor. I'd never heard the man laugh so powerfully. My subdued boss had come to life.

I'd never seen a happier man. He hugged me again and we went in circles, almost dancing on J.K.'s floor.

He kept saying my name, “Clay, Clay, Clay. You are a man.”

What had gotten into the man.

“You are a man, Clay,” he said again. “You grew up.”

“Popov tells me you have a Sea Lab and you're as wise as Neptune himself. You were always the charm who brought the fish,” he said, sitting down at the table full of food.

“I ordered one of everything. Sit! Sit! Eat! Eat!.”

“Nicky, a welcome sight you are to Popov. You are staying to fish with him?”

“I am, my friend. We are fishing with my sons. They'll be home soon.”

Stunned, I leaned forward to touch his hands.

“He found him?” I asked, hearing the words as though they came from someone else.

Mr. Aleksa's eyes met mine. His were filled with tears.

“He found him. My Boris will soon be home,” Mr. Aleksa said. “Boris, he is alive. He's coming home. Ivan said he'd find him. He has found him. My sons are coming home.”

*****

I felt light headed. My mind whirled. Was it finally over?

I saw Ivan standing in the doorway on the Sea Lab.

“I'm going to meet the Russians. They'll take me to Boris. After I get Boris, I'll be home as soon as I can get here.”

Spring 1979 was in its early stages. It hadn't been that long since Ivan appeared on the Sea Lab.

*****

I was happy because Ivan found Boris. I was happy he'd bring his brother home.

I was anxious after ten years of waiting. I no longer knew Ivan.

I feared he wouldn't come home to stay.

He'd been gone for a long time.

More than that, I feared Ivan might hurt his son.

Chapter 31

Lord of the Flies

Sitting in J.K.'s across the table from Ivan's father, certain truths became evident. This started my heart pounding furiously.

Ivan went with the Russians late last year. The Russians took Ivan to Boris. Ivan was in the process of getting Boris home. Mr. Aleksa came home to be here when his sons got here.

Which meant, Ivan could be home any time.

My brain couldn't process the rush of thoughts. I took deep breaths. The air had become too thin. I told myself to move slowly. There was no point in getting worked up over something that hadn't happened.

“Where are they now?” I asked with apprehension.

“Waiting for the papers so Boris' family can be in America. I heard nothing after I'm coming to the Panama Canal. Communication is not so good. I am only talking to them on the short wave radio.”

“Ivan?” I asked.

“He is staying by Boris until they are home. He is telling me a week or two to get the papers to travel in America. He was told that.”

“Boris being absent from the military?” I asked.

“Ivan is saying this is not the problem,” Mr. Aleksa said.

Like me, he wouldn't completely believe it until he saw his sons.

“I want you to meet my son, Mr. Aleksa,” I said.

How did I do this without having a major misunderstanding?

“Oh, yes, you are having the son. Your wife, she is dying so young. I was sorry when I'm hearing this, Clay,” he said, putting his hands on mine and looking into my eyes with great sincerity.

How do you introduce your nearly ten year old son to his grandfather? This was one of a million questions that were flashing through my mind.

After ten years, things were moving at light speed. Ivan could be home already and I'd never know it. He hadn't called. He hadn't told me he was back in the country.

How long would it take for him to get around to Dylan and me?

*****

I was up before dawn the next morning. I was up before I was up and I was up before that. I was really up when first light began to appear in the double doors that opened onto the porch outside my bedroom.

The doors I kept propped open with two barnacle-covered bricks I liberated from my reef, were only closed during storms or harsh weather.

There was no storm and the light was bright. I'd been watching it develop.

There was something Dylan and I had to do.

If we went to the marina early, Mr. Aleksa would be sitting on the deck of the Boris drinking coffee.

I'd thought a lot about what I'd say if I ever saw Mr. Aleksa again. I rehearsed a speech like the ones I gave to Harry's donors. It was all cut and dried and a simple matter of fact.

Nothing about Ivan and me and Dylan could be called simple. Nothing I rehearsed was going to be said. Life didn't work that way. Dylan needed to meet his grandfather. One look at Dylan and the truth was evident. I didn't need to say a word.

There was no way to know what Mr. Aleksa's reaction would be. I was sure Dylan would be petrified. He knew about his father. I'd talked about Mr. Aleksa, but it's difficult to know what he'd processed. My son had all the family he needed. I didn't know what he wanted. Whatever that was, it was up to him.

I was looking forward to seeing old friends. I took Dylan along.

“What do I call him?” Dylan asked as we parked the car at the marina.

“I call him Mr. Aleksa. I'd start with that. He's Ivan's father, so he's your grandfather. Pop is your grandfather, but I haven't had any luck getting you to call him that.”

“No one else calls him that,” Dylan objected.

“He isn't our grandfather. He's your grandfather.”

“Pop is,” he said, cocking his head to give me a smile.

“So, you can work it out with Mr. Aleksa. He's a nice man. He treated me like an adult when I was fifteen.”

Dylan kept looking at me, expecting more, but I had no more.

“Come on. They'll be drinking coffee on deck about this time. You'll like Mr. Aleksa. His first mate, Kenny, is cool.”

The marina was quiet at just after seven in the morning. Dylan followed me down the dock.

It was a shock to see Mr. Aleksa's new boat. It was sleek and looked longer than the Vilnius II. His slip was three slips before you came to the Sea Lab. It sat higher than any boat in the cove and it loomed over the boats in the slips.

“Clay!” Mr. Aleksa said, standing up to come to greet me. “I can't believe I'm back. It's like I was never gone. Good to see you.”

Dylan fell in behind me. He pressed close to me.

“You been to the house, Mr. Aleksa? I keep an eye on it. It's fine. I put the shutters on it after Ivan left.”

“No, I didn't spend all that much time there. This is where I live. That’s Ivan's house. My father intended for Ivan to have it once he was grown. It's where they spent summers together.”

Dylan stayed behind me. I knew Mr. Aleksa hadn't seen him yet.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain,” I said. “Welcome home, Mr. Aleksa.”

“Will you never call me Nick, Clay?” he said, keeping his eyes on mine.

I stepped onto the stern plate and down onto the deck. Mr. Aleksa put down his coffee to give me one more hug. Ivan's father was happier than I'd ever seen him.

It was a short lived greeting. Dylan followed me onto the deck of the Boris. He finally moved to where he could be seen.

I knew when Mr. Aleksa's eyes met my son's for the first time. He stiffened and stepped back away from me. His eyes never left Dylan. He knew immediately he was seeing his grandson.

“Oh my God!” Mr. Aleksa said with wonder.

Now Mr. Aleksa was stunned and speechless.

“This is Dylan,” I said.

Mr. Aleksa stood stunned by what he was seeing.

“I don't understand. How?”

“Because you disappeared from my life and didn't have a chance to know Ivan's son. I married his mother. She was already pregnant with Ivan's son.”

I could see the wheels turning.

“He is to your father what Pop is to me,” I told Dylan to remind him. “He isn't sure what he should call you, Mr. Aleksa. I'll let you two work that one out. Go say hello to your grandfather, Dylan.”

“When...? ...How?” Mr. Aleksa stammered.

“Sunshine was pregnant when I met her. I don't think I need to explain any more. I married her so she'd have a husband and our son would have a father. I didn't know Ivan was his father when we got married. It has become obvious over the years.”

“Ivan! He said you were married. Popov told me when your wife died. He said she left you with a son.”

“My son wants to know what to call you,” I said, making sure Mr. Aleksa knew where I stood.

Mr. Aleksa turned to face Dylan.

“You call me Nick. Would you like to see my boat? The one your father sailed on with me sank. This is my new boat. People in Chile had this boat built special for Nick.”

“Yes, sir! I'd like to see your boat,” Dylan said excitedly. “It's nothing like the other boats I've been on.”

“I'm not showing you until you are calling me Nick.”

Dylan smiled at his grandfather and he looked back at me.

I nodded for him to go ahead.

“OK, Nick,” Dylan said.

Mr. Aleksa put out his hand and Dylan took it.

“This is the latest design for the fishing boats in South America. It's got everything a fisherman needs. Come and I'll show you. Would you like a soda? It's too early to be drinking the soda, but I'm your grandfather and I'm allowed to spoil you.”

“Yes, sir,” Dylan said, following Nick inside.

That had gone just fine.

*****

The Boris was nothing like any of the boats Dylan had been on. It was designed to cut through rough seas. The narrow back deck stretched out well behind the galley and the bridge. The holds weren't nearly as large as those on the Vilnius II, but there were more of them and they stretched for two thirds of the length of the craft.

Kenny came over after Mr. Aleksa took Dylan inside.

“You grew up, Clay,” Kenny said.

“Didn't we all,” I said. “You look good, Kenny. You were a good looking kid and you're a handsome man. I always admired you.”

“Thank you, Clay. I did my best. I owe it all to Nick. He was father, mother, and teacher to me.”

“You are loyal,” I said, realizing Mr. Aleksa had probably saved Kenny's life by taking him in.

It may not have been legal to raise a twelve year old homeless kid, but Nick didn't know much about the law. He did what was right.

“What happened to Arturo?” I asked.

“We were fishing out of Santiago, Chile two years ago. Fishing was good. We'd been out two days. The holds of that old fishing boat were loaded to the gills. Nick's father built that rear stern section with extra large holds. We had four to five tons on the stern.

“The storm caught us fifty miles west of port. I'd never seen a storm like that one. A wave took the hatch covers off the port holding tank. We began taking on water. I mean we were listing thirty degrees to port in two minutes. We were going down.

“Arturo bought a new Panama hat in Santiago before we left port. He looked like a million bucks in that hat. He went below to get it. The Vilnius II went down with him on it.”

“Jesus!” I said. “I'm sorry, Kenny. I know you two were close.”

“Died for a fifteen dollar hat. I'd have bought him a dozen, a hundred. What a waste,” Kenny said.

“There were other boats. They had us out of the water pretty fast. They searched the seas for two days. A fisherman doesn't leave his own behind, but the seas were smooth as glass the second day. Arturo was at the bottom of the Pacific.”

“Sorry.”

“Coffee, Clay. You look tired.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I could use a cup of sailors' coffee. I was up most of the night worrying about this.”

I sat in Mr. Aleksa's chair and Kenny and I talked about the good old days when we fished together.

I could hear Mr. Aleksa talking to Dylan as he showed him the boat. They came outside and climbed the ladder to get to the bridge. A few minutes later the engines rumbled to life. Their purr was similar to the sound the Sea Lab engines made.

“You guys must have been catching a passel of fish to afford a first class boat like this,” I said. “This is nice.”

“We did. We were one of the top fish catchers out of Santiago. When the Vilnius II went down, and we lost Arturo, the entire fishing fleet came out to have a ceremony to mark his passing.

“They took up collections all over the city. The boat builder agreed to build a boat for the city at cost. The city gave it to me. It was for Kenny and Arturo too, but Kenny didn't want his name on it. “The first time we sailed the Boris, we went to the spot where we lost Arturo. Left roses on the water. He was a fine boy. Good worker.”

“Some good people in this world,” Kenny said. “Nick deserves to have a good boat under him. He knows his business.”

“He does,” I said.

“Daddy, Nick wants to take me fishing with him. Can I go?”

“You're on spring break. He's your grandfather. You can do anything you want as long as it doesn't include booze or women.”

Dylan laughed.

My son was happy.

“He said, 'Yes,' Nick,” Dylan said. “I can go.”

“I'll have my papers later today, Popov is telling me. We'll go overnight tomorrow and come back the next day. I don't suppose I could talk Clay into going fishing with his old boss, can I?” Mr. Aleksa asked.

“I feel like a couple of days off. I work too hard. We'll be here tomorrow morning at whatever time you say, Nick,” I said.

Nick laughed and patted my back.

I was now an Aleksa and the Aleksas were Olsons. That's what I saw coming out of Dylan meeting Nick.

Now there was one more introduction I wasn't sure how to make, or when I'd get to make it.

*****

My son and Nick were fast friends. When Dylan wasn't doing anything else, he was with his new grandfather.

I asked Nick not to tell Ivan about Dylan looking like him.

“You and Dylan needed to work out what role you'll take in each other's life. Ivan, Dylan, and I will need to do the same thing. Let us deal with that relationship. Talk about Dylan all you want, Nick, simply leave out that he's my son's father.”

“He'll be home in a couple of weeks. I can't call him and he has no way to call me. It's not my place to say what you and your son will be to Ivan.”

*****

”Pop, did you know Mr. Aleksa was home?” I asked at dinner.

“Yes, I did,” my father said unenthusiastically.

“Aren't you gong to go say hello?” I asked.

“I didn't plan on it,” Pop said.

I'd known my father for some years. The only friend I could say he had in all those years was Mr. Aleksa. Now that he was home, why wasn't Pop going to renew an old friendship?

*****

Ivan was in San Francisco when I met with Nick. I knew what was coming. In a way I hoped Ivan wouldn't call. The closer his homecoming came, the more I dreaded him being home.

I had my own life and I liked it. Dylan was relatively satisfied with the life he had. I knew Ivan would change everything.

I'd had enough. Ten years of anything was enough. Nothing mattered except Ivan's coming home to stay. I didn't want him to say anything but that and I was afraid he couldn't say it.

*****

At ten Dylan went diving with me, fished with Ivan's father, and he had a basic knowledge on the operation of three substantial boats. His world had expanded far beyond the conservancy house.

It remained to be seen when Dylan might meet his father or what would be the result of the meeting.

*****

“Clay, Ivan's on the phone,” Lucy yelled from the foyer.

I still was unable to resist racing to the phone to hear his voice.

“Hello,” I said, taking the phone from Lucy as she laughed and then giggled over something Ivan said to her.

“I'm back,” Ivan blurted.

“For most of a week according to Nick,” I said.

“When did you start calling my father Nick?”

“You've been back a week, Ivan? I check your house every day.”

“Yes! A million things to get done before Boris and his family can travel, babe. Didn't want to upset you without being able to tell you I'll be there in three days. I can't wait to see you, Clay.”

“Upset me how?” I asked softly. “By telling me you're alive? I already heard that from your father.”

The tears were already running. Dylan put his arm around my waist and rested his face against my shoulder. I didn't realize he followed me downstairs.

“Ivan, are you listening?”

“I hear you, babe.”

“I want you to listen carefully now. Don't call me again. I don't want any more phone calls. When you're home, if you ever are home, you know where I live. I'm very busy, but I'll try to make time for you. I don't want to hear from you again until you're home to stay. Do you understand, Ivan? I don't want to hear from you until you're home to stay.”

“Yes! I hear you, babe.”

I hung up.

*****

After dinner, I went upstairs to lie on my bed. My life was good and Dylan's meeting Nick had gone far better than I hoped it would. It added new texture to Dylan's life and he liked Nick and Kenny.

I had no hope that Ivan's coming home would be as easy.

The thought of Ivan coming home was more exciting than the actual event. I wasn't anxious to see him or for Dylan to meet him. We'd been doing fine without Ivan and now he was coming home.

“I'm not going to like him,” Dylan said, sitting on the edge of my bed with the new book he'd picked out to read together.

“You don't know him,” I said.

“I know what he does to you. I don't like that and I won't like him. Who does he think he is? I've gone ten years without him. I'm willing to make it twenty.”

“Dylan, you don't know Ivan. He's a good man. He's been gone a long time. We need to give him a chance. That doesn't mean throwing caution to the wind. We don't know what he's going to do. Remember, he doesn't know he has a son.”

“I know. Do we have to tell him?”

“He'll know. You are him, Dylan,” I said, stating the obvious. “When I met Ivan, he looked a lot like you look now.”

“I don't want to be like him. He hurts you, Daddy.”

“We were close friends. That's difficult to let go of. We were kids. We're grown men now. We have to see if we can be friends as adults. You're the best reason for us to do that. No matter what happens between your father and me, he is still your father.”

“I'll be nice. As nice as I can be anyway.”

“That's all I ask. I think you'll like him. I'm sure he'll like you. We need to let it happen.”

“OK.”

“Which book did you choose for us to read?”

“Lord of the Flies.”

“Great story about what happens to boys your age without adult supervision,” I said.

“Live happily ever after I bet,” he said.

“Not quite how it turns out, kiddo. Adults do serve some purpose. We'll read it and see how it goes. I saw the movie,” I said.

“There's a movie?”

“Yes, a very good movie. It's like watching a car crash. You can't take your eyes off it. It also is an example of how easy it is to fall under the spell of a dangerous mind.”

“I can't wait. You make it sound like a good read, Daddy.”

Turn the porch light on. Looks like a great night to read outside.”

*****

I knew when three days passed. I had no doubt Dylan did too. If there was some apprehension on his part, I didn't sense it.

*****

We were going about our daily routine. Mama did laundry and I was changing Dylan's bed after doing mine. I was in the midst of putting fresh sheets on Dylan's bed, when I became aware of voices in the next room.

Ivan came charging in through the double doors. Dylan was looking at some of my new slides with a hand held viewer I bought him the previous Christmas.

Seeing the motion coming from the porch, Dylan looked up.

Ivan stopped on a dime on the opposite side of the bed. He looked into Dylan's face.

“Jesus Christ!” Ivan blurted loud enough for me to hear.

“Not even close. Dylan Clayton Harry Olson at your service,” Dylan said each name carefully for his father.

“That's a lot of name for a kid,” Ivan said.

“I'm a lot of kid,” Dylan said, not thrown off in the least by coming face to face with his father.

“You know who I am?” Ivan asked, looking at a mirror image of himself and Boris when they were ten.

“I'd be pretty stupid if I didn't. You finally decided to stop by to see me, Daddy-o? Run out of fish to fry?”

“I... was...,” Ivan said.

Ivan went dumb. All he could do was stare at our son. I am sure the wheels were turning inside his head.

“I'm nearly ten, Daddy-o. You'd think you might have dropped by to say hello to your kid at least once in your travels.”

“Dylan,” I said, moving behind him and putting my hands on his shoulders.

“I have a son and you didn't tell me?” Ivan asked.

“I didn't know when he was born. When I did know, the way you were living.... We'll have this conversation later. We aren't alone and I've taught my son to be respectful of everyone. My telling you what I think wouldn't sound respectful, Ivan. I'll explain later.”

“Whatever you've got to say to him, I've already figured it out, Daddy. You don't need to sugarcoat things for me. I'm the one he never bothered to meet.”

“I know I don't, kiddo, but I don't want you to talk to Ivan the way I'm going to talk to him. He is your father,” I said. “If he hangs around, I want you to be respectful of him. I might not be.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don't know how. Sunshine and I on....”

“Ivan! Let's agree, it's obvious you fathered him, but don't ever doubt that I'm his father in every way. We don't need to discuss the biology here. Right now you need to say hello to your son. It's time you two got acquainted.”

“I didn't know,” Ivan said apologetically.

“I know,” Dylan said. “I figured out who you were when I was five. You didn't once wonder about my mother's baby? Ask a question? Think, 'This kid looks familiar?'”

“No! I didn't.”

“I didn't tell him for my own reasons, Dylan. I could have but I didn't. It may not have been fair to him, but I wasn't worried about fairness when it came to him. You are my responsibility. I did what I thought was best for you.”

“I know, Daddy,” Dylan said. “You said you'd tell him if I asked you to. I didn't want you to tell him. I wanted him to find out. He just did. Didn't you, Daddy-o?”

“Yes, I did.”

“So, if you want to make a federal case out of it, Ivan, we can go to war. I did what was best for my son.”

“You could have told me,” Ivan said.

“You'd have done what? Left Boris where he was and come home to change diapers?” I laughed. “Warm bottles for your baby. Not likely. What you'd have done was break his heart the way you broke mine. Not on your life, Ivan Aleksa. You weren't doing that to him.”

“I feel like I've been sucker punched. I came home thinking I was going to... and I find this out. I wasn't prepared for this, Clay. Give me a few minutes to process it.”

“After ten years, take all the time you need,” I said bluntly.

“Make you feel like running away from home, Daddy-o? Take your time. I might grow on you.”

“Dylan!” I said. “He might be a butt head but he's your father.”

“Yes, sir. What do I call him? Daddy-O works for me.”

“What do you want your son to call you, Ivan?”

Ivan only needed a minute to think it over.

“Ivan. No point in calling me something I've never been to him. Just Ivan.”

Dylan cocked his head, looking back at me.

“This is between you and him. Ivan works for me,” I said. “He calls your father Nick,” I said.

“My father's met him?”

“As soon as he came back to the cove, I took Dylan to meet his other grandfather. I have a great deal of respect for your father. He was blown away when he saw Dylan.”

“He was cool. He took Daddy and me fishing with him. He's got a great boat. Nothing like Daddy's boat but it's totally cool. His other boat sank,” Dylan said excited. “I met Kenny. He's cool too. He said I look just like you,” Dylan fired off rapidly. “My uncle too. Kenny's friend drowned when the old boat sank.”

“At five, how'd you figure out that I was your old man?” Ivan asked.

Dylan looked at the picture of Ivan and me. His first grade picture was still tucked up under the frame next to Ivan's face.

“Oh!” Ivan said. “At five you figured that out by yourself?”

“Before. I didn't have a picture to compare our faces until I started school. I'd always had a strange feeling when I looked at the man with my father. Daddy told me as much as I could understand before that. Once he knew I knew, he told me the last thing my mother said to him.”

Ivan looked from Dylan to me. He looked at the picture on my nightstand. We stood across the bed from each other.

There was a lot of history we'd lived through. A lot of time had passed since then. I remembered he came home after Sunshine died, and he stayed.

“What were Sunshine's... last words?” Ivan asked carefully.

“She told me to take care of Dylan for her. She told me she loved me. Then, in a whisper I could barely hear,” I said, almost unable to get the words out. “She said, 'Dylan is Ivan's son.'”

“Jesus!” Ivan said. “I didn't know. I never thought....”

“ Sunshine knew that telling me Dylan was your son would make me love him all the more. And that's how I ended up raising your son, Mr. Aleksa. She died before sunrise on a Monday. The sun never did rise. It rained all day,” I said sadly.

“You know how sorry I was that I wasn't here for you,” Ivan said.

“Speaking of being clueless. I was so stupid I didn't know she was dying and telling me goodbye, but she was.”

“You never asked her whose baby it was?”

“No, Mama made me realize that Sunshine needed to be married when the baby was born. She said the baby needed a name and that's all there was to it. She was right on both counts.”

“Dylan knew you weren't his father?”

“Correction. I am his father. Dylan knew Sunshine was pregnant when I married her. It didn't matter to me who fathered him. The father obviously wasn't in the picture, which meant Sunshine and Dylan became Olsons.”

“I'm sorry, Clay. You didn't tell me. I didn't know.”

“So am I, Ivan. We'll have to settle this later on. I promised Mama I'd take her to Piggly Wiggly to get chicken livers for dinner, after I made up Dylan's bed. I won't be gone long. I suggest you two get to know each other.”

“I love your mother's chicken livers,” Ivan said.

“Me too,” Dylan said.

“If, when I come back, you two are playing nice, I'll let Ivan stay for dinner.”

“You aren't planning to take off before I come back, are you, Mr. Aleksa.”

“Clay!” Ivan said, hurt by my doubt.

“If you don't get between your father and the door, Dylan, you should be safe.”

“Clay!” Ivan objected.

“I'll be back in a little while,” I said, heading for the door.

“Didn't I tell you, Clay, I'm home! I'm not going anywhere! I'll be here when you come back. Take your time,” he yelled as I stood on the landing.

I wondered if I was doing the right thing.

Then Ivan yelled, “Take all day! All night! I'll be here when you come back.”

“Speaking of which, where you been, Daddy-o?” Dylan asked his father.

I laughed at my son's wit and I closed the door the final inch, until I heard it latch.

Ivan had his hands full. I went downstairs to the kitchen.

*****

“Why the long face, Clayton?” Mama asked as I sat down at the kitchen table.

“You are fixing chicken livers tonight?” I asked.

“Yes, I got them at A&P. They were just putting them out. Fresh, Fresh, Clayton. Creamed corn, broiled potatoes with onions and green peppers, and cheddar cheese grits. I've taken a jar of my cucumbers and onions I put up in the fall. Everyone seems to enjoy those. I have some sour cream to put on them for added flavor.”

“Ivan's home,” I said, leaning my chin on the back of my hands as I processed what I'd just said.

“Your father told me. Where is he? I thought he was always here when he was home. I've got plenty to eat. Ivan's always welcome at our table.”

“He's upstairs with his son.”

Mama stopped in mid motion. I had her attention now. She turned to face me.

“He's not going to take my grandson,” Mama said firmly.

“Mama, I'm Dylan's father. Ivan needs to get to know Dylan. No court is going to let him take my son away from me. So they look alike. A lot of people who aren't related look alike.”

“I hope you're right. Just the same, you need to be careful.”

“You have any iced tea, Mama?”

“Sure, just put a bottle in the fridge. Why aren't you upstairs keeping an eye on them?”

“Because Ivan is his father and they need to get acquainted. I'm too angry with him to be fair. Don't forget, Dylan has rights here. He never knew Sunshine and that won't be true of his father if I have anything to do with it.”

“Be careful, Clay. I would not leave them up there alone for too long. Ivan's been gone a long time. Do we really know him?”

*****

Ivan had been gone for a long time. I didn't know him any longer but he still had to get to know his son.

Chapter 32

Friendship?

I wanted Ivan to stay for Dylan's sake. I hoped we could at least be friends. For that we needed to get to know each other again. I had to learn to trust Ivan. To do this I needed to stay out of his bed and that would be easier said than done.

I didn't know what Ivan wanted.

*****

I saw Ivan fly the first time I set eyes on him. I knew it was impossible. That indicated Ivan was no ordinary kid.

For the second time in my life, Ivan did the impossible. I didn't believe he could go to Southeast Asia and come out with his brother, but that's what he did.

Like flying, it wasn't about how he did it. He did it. In spite of it, I was mad as hell. What Ivan did was between brothers. I felt like the injured party. It was probably wrong but it's how I felt.

I was happy Boris was home. I wanted to hear the story one day.

What I wanted to hear now was, 'I'm home to stay, Clay.”

No caveat and no buts about it.

Was he capable of coming back to a simple life on our beach?

I wasn't a fool. I had a son, a life, responsibilities. Ivan needed to prove he deserved to get back into my life. Even then, the last ten years had left me doubting Ivan's love for me.

In one frozen minute, Ivan came face to face with his son and because Dylan was his son, I had to allow Ivan into Dylan's life. That meant Ivan would be present in an important part of my life.

*****

“You want a refill on that iced tea, Clay?” Mama asked.

“No thank you, Mama.”

“What I'm saying is, and don't get me wrong, we all love Ivan dearly, but we don't know him. How many years has it been since any of us saw him? He's a grown man. When he left the beach he was a boy. We have no idea what kind of man he is.”

“He was looking for his brother, Mama,” I said.

“You know that's not what I mean,” she said, moving from pan to pan as she danced over our dinner.

I wasn't quick enough to snatch one of those chicken livers on my way back upstairs.

“Got to run, Mama. Thanks for the tea.”

As I left the kitchen, I should have been at peak excitement. Ivan found his brother. He was home. He was talking to his son.

At least I hoped he was. Dylan could be a tough nut to crack, once he made up his mind to something. I didn't know how sincere Ivan was or if he even wanted to make an effort to know Dylan.

I wasn't sure Dylan was ready for his father. I wasn't sure I was.

*****

I opened the door and stepped into an empty bedroom. It didn't take me long to find Dylan and Ivan. I saw Dylan through the open double doors that led to the porch. There Dylan was in his SCUBA gear. Dylan was giggling as Ivan checked out the brightly colored equipment I'd ordered.

“Are you really old enough to manage this gear underwater?” Ivan asked with concern in his voice.

“All fathers must have the worrywart gene. It took me years to get this equipment. Don't you two gang up against me.”

“There's a catalog of SCUBA gear now. It's all the rage in Daytona Beach, Miami Beach, and Jacksonville. They have shops that sell nothing but SCUBA gear. I can't even get Pete to fill our damn tanks at the bait shop. I offered to buy the equipment,” I said. “Every time I fill the tanks, I've got to drive to Palmers.”

“I like it,” Ivan said. “It fits him. We didn't SCUBA dive until we were almost out of high school. He's way ahead of us, Clay,” Ivan said enthusiastically. “Do you still have my tank? We can go diving tomorrow,” Ivan said. “If I pass the smell test.”

“Can we, Daddy,” Dylan squealed through the fogging face mask.

“You've got school, kiddo. It'll be a little late to go by the time you get home,” I said.

“Daddy, it can be a celebration. My father's homecoming dive. We can do it every year on this day,” Dylan calculated excitedly.

“Can we, Daddy? Can we?” Ivan asked in a little boy squeal.

He jumped up and down for affect.

Now I had two sons to raise.

Dylan giggled at Ivan's antics.

He took off the equipment, neatly putting it to one side.

I'd been outflanked. Leave Dylan alone with Ivan for fifteen minutes and they were hatching a plan for Dylan to skip school. I wasn't about to play the voice of reason and spoil their enthusiasm.

“I guess you won't fail if you miss a day.”

“Yeah but the teacher will be on her own without me there to feed her the answers.”

Ivan laughed at our son's assessment of his importance. I cringed. Ivan had been home less than an hour and Dylan was already beginning to think like him.

I still didn't know what Ivan intended to do or how he wanted to fit into Dylan's life. A dive together couldn't hurt.

We all loved being underwater.

*****

I'd never seen Dylan happier. I think he'd been worried about what would happen when he met his father. He didn't seem to be worried now.

At dinner we were all happy. Ivan was home. No one asked any hard questions. I didn't want to go there and in spite of Mama's misgivings, she couldn't do enough for our guest.

In the middle of a dialogue between Dylan and Ivan, with Dylan talking a million miles a minute, Pop put things into perspective.

Dylan spent most of his time watching his father. His usual appetite didn't was present. Ivan had private conversations with each of us around the table. He was the center of attention.

I didn't think it could have gone better. That's when Pop put his cards on the table. It didn't matter what we thought or how we felt about Ivan.

“Ivan, you know we love you. You're like one of my boys. We're all glad to see you after so long. I have something to say that concerns all of us, and you.

“Don't, not even for an instant, entertain the idea you can take Dylan away from us. You can't. You won't. Don't even think the thought. You trust me on that, son, and we'll all get along fine.”

As Pop finished, he passed Ivan the chicken livers. Mama finished buttering a biscuit and put it on Ivan's plate.

“No, sir,” Ivan said, looking at the chicken livers as he spoke.

Dylan eyes were as wide as I'd ever seen them. His sweet, soft spoken, thoughtful grandfather had just put his foot down on Ivan's neck. It wasn't something Dylan knew how to take.

After his initial shock, Dylan looked at me for advice.

“Your chicken livers are getting cold,” I said.

“They're perfect, Mrs. O. You don't know how many nights since I've been gone I dreamed about being home. When I pictured home, I pictured sitting at this table with you guys. That's as good as it gets.”

Dylan looked from me to his father.

“Have some potatoes, Ivan,” Lucy said, digging out a spoonful for him.

The mood had changed. The luster had come off the rose. Mostly we ate and enjoyed Mama's food. It was never disappointing.

Then, after chewing on it for a while, it became Ivan's turn to lay down his cards.

“You know, when ever I was gone for any length of time, when I got back here, to this table, I knew I was home. I can't explain it. Like I can't explain what binds me so tightly to my brother. I knew if I didn't go to find Boris, he wouldn't have been found. Now that I've found him and brought him home, I know I was right. He'd have lived out his life in that Laotian fishing village if I hadn't gone for him,” Ivan said, drinking some tea..

“I needed to know what happened to Boris, but after a few months, I knew Boris was alive. I began to feel him,” Ivan said with authority.

Ivan spoke clearly and without hesitating. Every eye was on him.

“It's true, I fathered Dylan, and that's a complicated story. I didn't know I'd fathered a son until a few hours ago,” he said, looking at Dylan. “I suppose I didn't want to know.”

He cleared his throat and looked at his son.

“There's no doubt I did. I couldn't have raised Dylan. I couldn't do anything until I found my brother,” he said, taking a sip of tea. “As I said, I can't explain it. I saw how Clay took care of Dylan after Sunshine.... Even if I had known, I don't know anyone who loved his son more than Clay loves Dylan.”

“I think you're right,” Lucy said with fondness in her voice.

She patted my hand.

“Few people impress me. Dylan is an impressive young man. It doesn't surprise me. He grew up in this house with people I picked to be my family. He's right where he belongs. He's being raised by the family I never had. To rob him of that would be the dirtiest trick any one ever played. Dylan is right where he belongs,” Ivan said, indicating the people around the table.

“I'm glad I met him and I plan to get to know my son. He's being raised by the best man I know, his daddy, Clay Olson. I'd like to live up the beach and rekindle my friendship with Clay, while getting to know Dylan. I'm not leaving this beach again, unless I go somewhere with the two of them,” Ivan said, looking directly at me.

“I didn't mean to sound blunt,” Pop said. “You understand that Dylan comes first in this house. Since his mother passed, we've been responsible for him. You are a member of our family. You have been since Clay took up with you all those years ago. Hard to believe so much time has passed.”

Pop smiled at Ivan and Ivan smiled back.

“I remember Clay from when he was pudgy, uncoordinated, and he lacked self confidence. I decided he'd make a good friend. I don't like many people. Clay impressed me. Beneath that shy kid was a brilliant mind. He soaked up what I knew in no time. We had adventures, worked as men in a job few men can do. It took no time for him to grow into the bright curious adventurer he is. When he was still fifteen, people could see how intelligent Clay was. I could see it all along. I don't know he's accepted it yet. Only one thing could keep me from staying to watch Clay come into his own.”

“I left him, the beach, my life, and went to get my brother. It was exciting. I met a lot of good people. I saw the country and other countries. I found the truth in the people who fought for peace, like Teddy, and they became hunted by men who love war,” Ivan said, sipping tea.

“I got in trouble once I got close to Boris. I became obligated to men who didn't have or want friends. They'd just have soon left me for dead but Clay saved me from whatever my fate might have been.”

“That's the first time I heard that one,” I said, forgetting how quick Ivan was in a pinch.

“Your congressman became my congressman. As long as I did what I was told, I'd be fine. I did that and in turn they arranged for me to get what I came for, which was Harry's doing too. I owe him a lot but it all comes back to Clay and who he has become.”

“I appreciate that but Harry is the guy you need to thank.”

“Yes, I do. And here I am. Back home. Meeting my son and back at the Olsons' table and grateful to be here.”

“You've certainly had a time,” Mama said. “You'll have dinner with us in the evening. I won't have it any other way.”

“Yes!” Pop said. “You won't find better food anywhere and it's where Dylan is every evening.”

“I do know that's true,” Ivan said. “I won't make promises. We all know I need to earn your trust again. I don't plan to go anywhere. I've opened my house and I'll live there,” he said.

“I don't expect it to be the way it was. I love you all. You were the family I thought about while I was gone. I especially love my son and his father. They make being home the beginning of a new adventure.”

No one ate until Ivan stopped talking. It's what we all wanted to hear. It seemed like the right words for a new start. I'd be careful before I decided what Ivan and I were going to be.

Ivan had come home.

*****

Later that night, Dylan and I read from the new book he'd picked up at the school library. It didn't take long for him to be distracted. He'd had quite a day.

“You're not listening,” I said. “Ivan?”

“Yeah! How could you tell?”

Pulling out one of his oldies, “You get very quiet when you're thinking about your father.”

“You've had a big day. Want to turn in, kiddo?”

“Yes, sir. I am tired.”

As I leaned to kiss his forehead, after he was in bed, he surprised me.

“Are you going to see my father tonight?”

“Ivan asked me to come up to talk once I tucked you in.”

“You going?”

“You think I should?” I asked.

“Yes. We need to give him a chance. He loves us, Daddy.”

“He's been gone a long time, kiddo,” I said.

“You don't need to tell me that. He's been gone all my life, but he's home now. He came home to us.”

“I can go up. We need to talk. We haven't talked in years. I'll know more after we do.”

“Good!” he said, surprising me again. “I know you two will be best friends again.”

“You'll be OK?” I asked, because I was always in the next room when he went to bed.

“Daddy, I'll be ten in a couple of months. I'm almost grown up. I think I'll be OK if you spend the night with my father.”

“I'll still be in the next room when you wake up, kiddo. I'm not spending the night. We do have a lot to talk about. I'll try to be here when you wake up. How's that? I'll be home in time to take you to school in the morning.”

“My father too?”

“I can't answer for him. I'll ask him,” I said.

“Cool!” he said, rolling over to go to sleep. “I'm glad he came home, Daddy.”

“Me too, kiddo.”

*****

It was an incredibly beautiful night. The fragrance of the Gulf made for a salty perfume. I was sure I could see every star in the sky. There was no moon.

It was the first time I'd walked up that beach at night in years. As I approached the back of Ivan's house, his bedroom was lit and the house was open. I'd set the storm shutters in place shortly after Ivan left all those years ago. The house looked none the worse for wear.

I stopped walking a few dozen feet from the house. My eyes were on Ivan. His were on me. I couldn't make him out, but he was there on the deck in one of two wicker chairs.

We were but shadows in the night. I did not speak and neither did he. I resumed my walk, going into the kitchen, and up the stairs that led to Ivan's bedroom and then out on the deck where he was.

I came through the curtains onto the deck. I sat next to him in the chair where I always sat. We said nothing for a long time.

The radiance of the sky and the sound of the water tickling the beach hadn't changed. Everything about that night was mesmerizing.

Ivan was back in my life.

“I've missed this. I've been half way around the world and back and this beach is still the most beautiful spot in it.”

“It's one of the better nights we've had in some time,” I said.

“Soda? I went to the A&P,” he said. “Stocked up.”

“Sure,” I said. “What ever you have is fine.”

When he brought the sodas back he dropped a thick white envelope into my lap before he shoved the Coke at me.

“What's this?” I asked.

“It's yours,” he said.

When I opened the envelope it was filled with hundred dollar bills.

“It's five thousand. You gave me around twenty-five hundred. I don't remember the exact amount. With interest five thousand seemed fair,” he said.

“I gave that money to you. It wasn't a loan,” I said, handing the envelope back. “I don't want your money, Ivan. I don't need your money.”

“I want to make things right between us, Clay. I can never make it up to you for how I've hurt you. Let me make right what I can. I can't give the years back to you. We have years ahead of us if you want them.”

“That's nice. Put the money to work. Make us some money. Invest it in something around here if you intend to stay.”

“I told you, I'm not going anywhere. We going diving tomorrow?”

I looked at him. The voice was Ivan's but the body was larger. The voice an octave or two deeper.

“If you're still here, you can go with us.”

“I'm not going anywhere tonight, tomorrow, or for the next ten years, unless I'm with you and the kid.”

“The kid has a name. Dylan!”

“Oh good grief. Dylan told me about this magic reef of yours. You going to show me where it is? I'd like to see it. He loves it.”

“You've already been there,” I said.

“That's where you and that floating palace was parked last year?”

“That's right, you've been out there,” I said. “I was anchored a few feet off the reef. I've been studying it for three years. It's a treasure trove of species, subspecies, and specimens for my lab. You've never seen such vivid color, Ivan,” I said excitedly.

I looked at Ivan. He was smiling from ear to ear.

“What?” I asked.

“You,” he said. “You haven't changed. You even look the same. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me. You were pretty angry the last time I spoke to you. You had every right to be. The kid told me how much that reef means to you.”

“Dylan!”

“Oh, good grief. You're going to need to cut me some slack. I've been away from real people for too long. I'll adapt.”

His hand brushed mine. I jumped to the far side of my chair.

“No! No way, Ivan Aleksa. It ain't happening. I'm not getting involved with you again. Don't even think it. You left me. Don't think you can turn up, turn on the charm, and I'll hop right into your bed. I know what you want.”

He smiled again.

“No, I'd never think that,” he said, still smiling.

Leaning back, he adroitly tossed the envelope full of money through the small opening in the curtains and onto the overstuffed down filled bed.

“Boris?” I asked, figuring that was a safe territory.

“He's not the same,” Ivan said, letting the words linger.

He drank root beer. I could smell it.

I drank Coke.

“He was in Laos all this time. He was pretty seriously wounded. He lost a lot of blood,” Ivan said, drinking more soda. “Two Laotian fishermen were on the Mekong River. They left their boat to look for food. This thing was wriggling next to the path in the underbrush.”

“Boris,” I said.

“What was left of him. He was covered in mud. They couldn't see his face. They didn't know he was a soldier. Especially they didn't know he was an American soldier. They took him straight to their village. It was a day's travel on the river. Turned him over to the local medicine man. They were sure he'd die from loss of blood, but miraculously the bleeding had stopped. The wound was clogged with mud. That's the only thing that saved him.”

“He was nursed by the medicine man's daughter. She somehow kept him alive. They'd sent for a doctor from the closest town. It was a long time before he showed up. He had the two fishermen who found Boris, and who were now responsible for him, hold him down and the doctor amputated his right arm to the shoulder. No one expected him to survive that operation, but he did.”

“Laos? That's a far piece from Vietnam,” I said.

“Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos are all together on that river. Laos being to the north. It took Boris quite a while to start regaining strength. He had to learn to live with one arm. Once he began going fishing, it was obvious he knew what he was doing. They told me stories about no one catching fish for weeks on end. They were living on roots and grubs when the rice ran out, and it always ran out before the next crop came in.

“During the worst of it, they watched Boris gathering his nets in one of the dugouts. He went out alone for the first time. It was the talk of the village, until Boris came back with enough fish to feed the village for a couple of days. My brother became somewhat of a local folk legend. When the people saw him putting his nets into his boat, they knew he'd net fish,” Ivan said. “That made him an asset.”

“Runs in the family, I guess,” I said.

Somehow his hand got into mine. Our fingers were tangled together. It how it was a lifetime ago when we sat on his deck.

It felt natural. For an instant it was like he'd never been gone. For a second I thought we were as in love as ever. It had been years since we'd sat on his deck together. It would take time for me to entertain thoughts of loving Ivan again. I was still angry with him.

I thought of yanking my hand away. That would be rude. What was done was done. It wasn't going any further. I didn't trust him. It would take time for me to trust him again.

If we could become friends, that would be a good outcome.

“Once they realized he was an American soldier, they had an elaborate arrangement to alert him when strangers were in the village. Mostly they feared the Vietnamese finding out. They'd form a group around visitors, make a big fuss over them while Boris slipped away to a hiding place they'd made for him. It's what was going on when the Russian's traders came. They saw Boris getting into a dugout one time, paddling away. They got a good look at him that time. They didn't realize he was American. When the people I worked for showed the Russians a picture of me, they immediately saw the one armed man from the Laotian village. They thought he was just another villager going to fish.”

“So they took you to him?”

“They took me to him. It wasn't a direct trip. They had trading to do along the way. Eventually we ended up at the village where Boris was. No one had to tell them who I was. Everyone came to see me, wondering if Boris had regrown his arm. Then Boris came to the water's edge. He was thinner, older. They figured the rest out.”

“I'd have paid to see that reunion,” I said.

“Not what you might expect. He wasn't sure who I was. Boris is different. The blood loss cost him some brain function, I'd guess. He can do simple tasks and follow a routine. He knows who I am now, but it took some work to get him to remember home.

“Once I told him about my search for him, he remembered being a soldier but he wasn't clear on being wounded. I think the memories are in there, he just has trouble getting to them. He has a very nice wife and three daughters.”

“The daughter of the medical man?”

“Good guess. She fell in love with him. She still takes care of him. She giggles and runs away every time she sees me. She is good for Boris. They do fine together.

“He's more Laotian than American now. He lost so much of himself after he was wounded, it was easy for him to adapt to where he was rather than worry about who he once was.”

“They're at your mother's?”

“You're batting a thousand. She doesn't want him to leave. He's not as easy to bribe now. I think he might end up here with our father. That's a guess but fishing is all Boris knows now. It's how he took care of his family.”

“I don't want your mother near Dylan,” I said, staring at him, waiting for his reply. “When Dylan's eighteen, if he wants to get to know his other grandmother, that will be his decision.”

Ivan stared back at me. It was hard to know what he thought. I couldn't read his expression and he didn't speak right away.

“You call the shots on Dylan. All I want is to get to know him. All I want is for the three of us to get along, Clay. My mother has Boris' kids to bribe and pick favorites from. Like I said, Boris and his family are simple people and they'll most likely end up here.”

“I'm sorry, Ivan. I wish it had ended better for you,” I said.

“You feel sorry enough to sleep with me?” he asked, never missing a beat.

“Ivan, we don't know each other. This all feels familiar but you haven't been back an entire day yet. I'm still dazed. You're going to need to give me some time. I gave up hope you'd ever come back to our beach to live. It'll take some time to accept that you are home.”

“You knew me well enough to introduce me to the deck of your Sea Lab when I was home a few months back.”

“You were naked. You don't play fair. Do I still find you attractive? Yes. Do I still have feelings for you? Yes. Do I trust you to be here tomorrow? No, I don't.”

“If I say please? You don't know how much I've missed you. If you stay here tonight, you can hold me and make sure I'm here in the morning.”

“See, that's where you go wrong. I don't want to keep you here. I have no interest in keeping you anywhere. You've spent ten years leaving me. We're grown men now. We loved each other as boys. I cherish those memories. After ten years, what I remember is the pain you caused me and how you kept me hanging on,” I said with more hostility than I felt. “I'm in no hurry, Ivan. I'm not going anywhere. I've been right here the entire time you've been gone.”

“I can get naked if that will help,” he offered. “Your words say no, no, but your face says you aren't that opposed to the idea.”

“Don't think it,” I said. “I've got a son to drive to school in the morning.”

“No you don't,” Ivan said with confidence.

“What do you mean I don't. I do too.”

“You promised Dylan we'd go diving together tomorrow.”

“I did? I didn't. I did didn't I?” I said, remembering Dylan on the porch in his SCUBA gear. “You've been home for a few hours and I can't think straight.”

“I'll go with you to take Dylan to school when he goes. We always take a break at sunrise. The kid's going to learn we're lovers sooner or later. You don't seem to keep much from him and what you don't tell him, he seems to figure out. The kids pulling for us.”

“We're not lovers. We were lovers. I don't know what we are now. In case you haven't noticed, I've got a life, Mr. Aleksa. Whether or not you get into it depends on your actions.”

“Well, I'm your lover then. You're free to love any one you like. I'd be a fool to try to keep you to myself.”

“I bet I'm going to jerk a knot in your head, buster. I've never slept with anyone but you. I've never loved any one but you. I can't imagine loving any one the way I love you. That doesn't mean I'm Jumping right into your bed the first time you show up. It isn't likely.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Good information to have when I make my move, handsome. I love you too.”

“You make a move to get any closer to me than you are and we're going to war, buster,” I said, letting go of his hand and standing up. “You don't think you're going to wiggle your way back into my life your first day back, do you?”

“Not where we left off, no. We can take our time. Love isn't something you want to rush. Of course we've established we love each other. Making love shouldn't be out of the question, but I understand,” he said, turning in his chair to see me.

“Sit down. Relax. I'm safe. I won't try anything. We have a lot to talk about. Making love would get in the way of talking. The way we do it anyway.”

“Just don't... we aren't... kids any more. I'm not anyway. I've got a son to think about. You keep your distance, buster.”

“You aren't allowed to do anything while you're thinking about your son? That is true devotion.”

Ivan laughed, turning to look at the Gulf. I sat back down once he put his hands in his lap.

“See that sky? All those stars. When I was being held a prisoner, I used to look into that sky and try to figure out which star you were under.”

It was a beautiful night. It felt right being there with Ivan, even if I wasn't telling him that. I wasn't that easy.

*****

as Clay's audience.

Chapter 33

Bears & Bees

Somehow it was getting daylight when I opened my eyes. I was in the sumptuous overstuffed down bed I loved. I'd had this dream a thousand times.

I watched as the drapes blew gently into the bedroom at Ivan's house.

I was so comfortable. I fell back to sleep.

When I opened my eyes, it was daylight. I never had the dream of sleeping in Ivan's bed twice in one night before.

The bed at Ivan's house!

I hadn't.

I had.

He'd done it again. I couldn't believe I fell for it. What was wrong with me? What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking. That was obvious.

“Shit! Shit!” I said, leaping out of bed. “I've got to take Dylan to school. I'm late. I'm late.”

“Hey! Cool it, hot stuff. It's fifteen to seven. Unless your kid has the keys to the joint, we got time.”

His arms were around me, pulling me back toward him. He kissed my shoulders, my neck. Our lips did what lips do. Our bodies did what they always did at a time like that. There was no way to stop it once it started. I'd have regrets later. I was busy right now.

Love was on the morning breeze. I knew I couldn't let this happen but I didn't know who would stop it. Who was I kidding?

“No, Ivan! I don't want to start something we can't finish.”

“I'll go with you so you don't lose your place. Besides, Dylan isn't going to school today. We're going diving. You promised, Daddy!”

“We're going diving. He'll already be up. He loves diving.”

“So I gathered. He couldn't wait to show me his SCUBA gear.”

“Yeah, how'd he know the Chevy was there? I said I was taking Mama to get chicken livers,” I remembered. “The gear was in my trunk.”

“You couldn't smell the chicken livers cooking? You didn't fool any one. We knew you were giving us time to get acquainted.”

“I'm that transparent?”

“He knows he's going diving. Quit worrying about the past. We'll walk down there together,” Ivan said. “He needs to see us being together.”

“You go with me and he's going to know what we did last night.”

“Clay, you need to lighten up. You don't think he's going to figure it out if he hasn't already? We do have our arms around each other in that picture on your nightstand. Our son is no dummy.”

“He knows we're best friends,” I said, as if that explained two men showing affection for one another.

“I've known a lot of guys, Clay. None I put my arms around but you,” Ivan said, kissing me again. “Dylan knows men don't have a photograph taken in such a pose unless there is a good reason.”

I kissed him back. Maybe Dylan did know or suspected that best friends was code for a couple. At first he didn't understand, but at ten, Dylan knew plenty.

“We've got to go,” I said, worried about Dylan now.

I didn't want him to have anymore time to think about what his fathers were up to.

“Your son loves you, Clay. I hope, in time, he'll love me too. He'll have to learn to accept our love for each other. He already knows love isn't as cut and dried as he learns in school. It's not fair to him to hide our love. He needs learn many good people don't turn out the way society prescribes.”

“What I'd like is for him to be a kid for a little longer,” I said. “He'll tell us when he's ready to know more. He'll ask us the question he wants answered.”

*****

Having a perfect day for diving in April was no surprise. Taking Dylan out of school and having Ivan along to go diving was. We had clams and hush puppies at J.K.'s before loading the SCUBA gear onto the Sea Lab and heading southwest after leaving the cove.

I didn't take precautions to hide my route. I'd been diving my reef for over three years and no one had ever shown up while I was there. I did look over my shoulder every now and then, check the radar for blips, and the water ahead from time to time. As always the coast was clear.

Once we were on site and anchored the usual distance from the reef, we worked our way down the ladder and into the sea. I went first. Ivan went last.

We took our place in the trench a few dozen feet from the corner of the newest outcropping of the reef. In the excitement surrounding the dive with Dylan and Ivan, I forgot to stop to get my camera.

I didn't leave it on the Sea Lab, because it would be an invitation for thieves. What a thief could take, he couldn't get loose from the boat. What they could take, I kept at the lab, except when I planned to use it.

As soon as we settled down to see what we could see, the most beautiful purple fish I'd ever seen swam within ten feet of us. As if to snub his nose at us, he stopped swimming, looked us over, and swam lazily away,

Maybe he'd be there when I came back on business. We were there to have fun and enjoy that beautiful place.

I'd forgotten that Dylan had used air while showing off for Ivan. Way too soon the buzzer on the regulator sounded. It startled Ivan. I wasn't expecting it and it startled me. Dylan gave the thumbs up to indicate he was surfacing. It's what he was taught to do and he didn't question how his air ran out so quick.

*****

“That's a neat gizmo. Your Daddy's idea?” Ivan asked Dylan as the engines idled while I raised the anchor.

“Captain Popov gave it to me for my birthday,” Dylan said. “When Daddy gave me the SCUBA gear, Popov thought a regulator with the warning buzzer was a good idea.”

“Smart idea,” Ivan said.

“How is Popov?”

“Great!” I said. “I see him often. Dylan and I go with him twice a year. I keep an eye on what's going on where he fishes. There was a bad year in '75. We cut back on how much fishing his fleet does and I go with him to measure water temps, take water samples, and watch to see the condition of the fish he's catching. Dylan loves to go along.”

“Popov owns everything in the cove, you know,” Ivan said. “Popov is worth a piece of change,” Ivan said.

“He is?” I asked. “Cutting back on the fishing didn't panic him at all. He wanted to do what was best in the long run.”

“He had money in Russia. His grandfather was the right hand man of the Czar early this century. Popov built the marina and he put in the bait shop. Once his fleet was fishing for the Fish Warehouse, they had to enlarge it. Popov paid for that. He owns J.K.'s for the most part. I think he left J.K. With a piece of it when he'd have gone out of business if Popov hadn't put up the money he needed. The cove and everything in it runs on Popov's dime. He's a smart business man.”

“I knew he owned J.K.'s. I didn't know any of the other stuff,” I said. “No one talks about it. I never asked anyone who owned it.”

“Dad knows all about him. Popov loved Pop Pop, my grandfather, and after my grandfather died, he took Dad under his wing. Good man, Popov. He used to bounce me on his knee,” Ivan said with a smile.

“Me too,” Dylan said.

We talked about what we'd seen the rest of the way back to the cove. Ivan agreed they were no doubt the most beautiful colors he'd ever seen and he admitted he'd missed diving with me.

Once I backed the Sea Lab into the slip, Dylan and Ivan tied her lines off. When we walked our tanks down the dock to the car, Ivan stopped to look in the window of the Bait Shop.

“It's a crime to let this place go,” Ivan said. “I bet Pete hasn't washed this window since Popov hired him to run the place.”

“Not like anyone's beating his door down to get bait for fishing.”

“No, they wouldn't. Take one look at this dump and they'd immediately be heading for Palmer's. A good business man presents his product in the best light possible. No light get in here,” Ivan said, trying to rub a spot clean so he could look inside.

“Never thought of it that way. Most people who have slips here are successful at what they do. The Bait Shop wouldn't be where they'd want to do business.”

“Except for J.K.'s, there's nothing to attract customers to the marina. It could use an upgrade,” Ivan said.

“When I was talking to Harry about the cove, I told him that charter boats and diving are big in Tampa and Miami Beach. Pete could have a compressor to sell tanks and sell some fishing tackle and SCUBA gear. If there was something here, people would come here. It's quiet and no one is in a hurry. Just the place to vacation.”

“What did Harry say?” Ivan asked.

“Something about no one building a hotel here. He's not wired to what might attract tourists. He's wired to men who run businesses that attract tourists, but I still think charter fishing and diving are going to come to this cove one day.”

“You could be right,” Ivan said, walking away.

There was nothing unusual about the Bait Shop being closed. It was always closed these days. Pete opened when he was in the mood.

“It's why no one fishes here,” Ivan said, as he set the tanks in the trunk. “They get their bait at Palmer's and they fish from there. I'm going to talk to Popov. Maybe he needs to consider a new plan.”

“Someone should buy it and put in some SCUBA gear, a surf board or two, and fill my damn SCUBA tanks,” I said, as I backed onto the road. “I waste a lot of time driving to Palmer's and back and I eat too many of his wife's burritos.”

“I thought you'd picked up a couple of pounds,” Ivan said.

“Shut up! My pounds are fine. What I'm saying is someone with half a brain could bring this place to life. Get a little commerce going to upgrade the cove. Make Popov some more money.”

“Surf board. Where's the surf?” Ivan asked.

“Storms,” I said. “Kids go out when a storm is passing. We can get five or ten foot waves. The kids surf during storms. I thought it was too dangerous, but no one has ever drowned near here.”

“Never would have thought of that,” Ivan said. “I bet you could pull some fisherman into the cove if there were a few charter boats. People don't like crowds. We're not that far out of the way if you want to go fishing for a day or two.”

“SCUBA diving,” I said. “I might teach SCUBA diving when I get tired of fighting the assholes to keep our water clean water.”

“You think you're going to give up what you've accomplished, Clay?” Ivan asked.

“I've been at it ten years. I love what I do but, one day, I'll get tired of the fight. I'm not a fighter. I want to keep the Gulf clean. There may come a day when I can't. Once I can't, why fight a losing battle? The time to clean up the environment is now, before it's too late.”

“I'll help you, Daddy,” Dylan said.

“Now if I could recruit five million Floridians, we'd have it made.”

“People don't care,” Ivan said. “They want it to be nice when they get someplace. If it isn't they'll go somewhere else, tossing their KFC boxes and Taco Bell wrappers out as they drive. I can see where it might become a losing battle, Clay.”

“I know those people,” I said. “I pick up after them every chance I get.

“Me, too,” Ivan said. “Ugly Americans. We're everywhere.”

*****

“Hemingway was a journalist?” Dylan asked as we finished our nightly chapter of The Sun Also Rises.

“He was a writer. Many writers wrote for magazines and newspapers. Writers from Hemingway's era were quite socially aware. They worried about the condition of the world, not simply America.”

“That was before World War II?” Dylan asked.

“And right after World War I, which was The War to End All Wars,” I said facetiously.

“Why are there so many wars, Daddy?”

“Too little love, I guess, kiddo. Everyone wants something someone else has.”

“Do we believe in war, Daddy?”

“War says more about the men who start them than it does about the men who end up fighting them. I think that talking to each other would work fine. It beats killing each other, but I believe in peace and love.”

“You going up to my father's tonight?” he asked, finally getting to where we were going when he asked the first question.

“Not if you don't want me to, kiddo,” I said, mussing his hair.

“I want you to, Daddy. If you two talk to each other, there won't be any wars,” he said, cocking his head and glancing at my face. “I don't believe in war.”

“I'll be back in time to get you to school,” I said, floating it out there for him to consider.

“Cool! Couldn't we go diving instead, Daddy? We had a wonderful day. We should go diving every day.”

“No!”

“Can't blame a guy for trying,” he said, and he got up to get ready for bed.

“I love you, Daddy,” Dylan said from his bedroom.

“I love you too, son.”

“I think I love my father too,” he said, uneasy with those words.

“As you should. He's a good man. He's trying,” I said.

“We are giving him a shot then?” Dylan asked.

“We are. We're doing OK at the moment. He's only been back a couple of days. I hope he plans to stay.”

“Me too,” Dylan said, as I tucked him in.

*****

I sat on the porch looking toward the Gulf. Things were moving very fast. If I was smart, I'd apply the brakes.

I was with Ivan all day.

I should stay home tonight.

What Dylan knew was hard to say, because we couldn't come right out and say we were in love and way out of sync with everything Dylan would be learning was acceptable.

It was safe for the time being. Dylan hadn't begun to ask questions yet. That's when I'd know what was on his mind. Having his father in his life for the first time was good for Dylan.

What about the things that didn't require a decision? Like my feelings for Ivan. I could say anything I wanted about what I felt for Ivan, but I loved him. When push came to shove, I still loved him.

Was I waiting to eventually wake up to an empty bed?

It was too early for me to think Ivan was home for good.

*****

I walked up the beach to the house next to the river. I was going to Ivan's, because I couldn't stay away from him.

I wasn't fifteen any more and Ivan really couldn't fly. I was a grown man with a lot of responsibility. I learned to live without him. That took next to forever.

Now Ivan was home.

Once I would have dashed into the house, up the stairs, and into Ivan's arms. We'd grown up and things weren't as clear as they once were. Maybe we were getting a second chance at love. That's what it felt like.

I stopped at the fridge on my way upstairs. I got a root beer and a Coke. I headed for the deck, handing Ivan his soda. I sat in the chair beside him. It's like I'd done it a thousand times, because I had.

Being with Ivan wasn't as easy as it once was. My doubts lingered. The fear that I'd one day come to his house and he'd be gone again persisted. No matter how many times we slept together, it was too early to accept that Ivan was home to stay.

We sat sipping our sodas and enjoying another spectacular night. As a boy, there were times I'd have been satisfied to sit on that deck with Ivan forever. Life was far less complicated then.

April on the Gulf is when the sky is at its best at night. You might get a storm or two in February and maybe in March, but April started a string of marvelous months.

“You remember I used to ask, 'Have I ever told you that I love you?'”

“Yes!” I said, feeling his hand seeking out mine.

I didn't resist. We had a shot. I knew I couldn't stay out of his bed but sex was only part of being in love. For my own well being, I needed reassurance and only time would provide it.

Why fight feelings that I obviously couldn't change? It wasn't smart, but that's the way it was.

“I was just thinking about it. All those nights I was gone, I wanted to say those words to you. It's nice to be home, Clay. Thanks for a wonderful day. Thanks for letting me get to know Dylan. Thanks for coming up tonight. I wasn't sure you would.”

“I did it for Dylan as much as I did it for you. He's really happy you're home. He wants you to stay. I want you to stay.”

“I've had that feeling but I don't want to put the cart ahead of the horse. I know you have doubts. This is a lot for me too, Clay. I want it to be right.”

“As long as you've been gone, being here with you, it seems like yesterday when we did this every night. It's like time stood still at the house next to the river.”

“I thought the same thing last night. In spite of your resistance to the idea. We are meant to be together, Clay. I can't make up for the lost time but I can give you all the time you want from now on. I left because I had something to do. This is what I have to do now.”

“That would be good, Ivan. Don't think I'm just going to forget what you put me through, but if you try I'll try. In time we can get beyond the last ten years.”

I wanted to move slow enough so things didn't get out of control. I didn't know that I could. I didn't know how things could simply go back to the way they were before he left.

“Just loving you isn't enough now. I realize that. By leaving you I was letting you go, Clay. I knew that. I hated myself for doing it. I was sure you'd take up with someone else.”

He was looking at me as he spoke. I could see his dark eyes up close in the starlight. They were very close to my eyes.

“I'm not stupid and I don't expect things to be the same. I'd like for you to believe me when I tell you, I'm not going anywhere, Clay. I'm home. You don't know how many nights I wished I was here. How many nights I've imagined us on this deck together,” he said, sipping from his root beer and turning to look into the night.

“Our son is worried about us going to war,” I said. “I wouldn't like that.”

“I'm worried about it. I don't want to say or do the wrong thing. I respect who you are and what you've made of yourself. I merely want to be as close to you as you'll allow. I'm in no position to ask you for anything else. Give me a chance. You won't regret it.”

“I don't know what I can handle right now, Ivan. Just being close to you has turned everything upside down. I don't know if we can get back to where we were but it's starting to feel like we have a chance.”

“I've put you through a lot, Clay. When it was over.... Once Boris was at my mother's, I had to come here. The only thing I wanted was to be with you. To find a way to make it up to you. It's the one thing that kept me going. I intend to make it up to you.”

“It's not your fault I'm a basket case, Ivan. I know better. I know we lost what we had. It feels like we might recover some of it. Then I think of how many times you left me. That's when I have doubts. I had to learn to live without you. Now, here you are,” I said, trying to make sense.

“You know how long it took to learn to do that? Every time you came home, you ripped my heart out again. I need to keep things under control. If we move slowly, I'll manage. I can't cut you out of Dylan's life, so we've got to see each other. If we're seeing each other, there's no way we can keep our hands off each other. I know this.”

“Today was good,” Ivan said. “I mean we all enjoyed ourselves.”

“Yes, it was,” I said, not having thought about it much.

We both sipped soda.

“I'm glad you found Boris. I'm glad he's alive. I'm glad you're alive. I know you did what you had to do. I always knew that, Ivan. Every lonely night I spent, I knew why I was alone. It still hurt.”

“I didn't like leaving you. I hated it. Knowing you were there was the best thing I had.”

“I know,” I said. “You always came home.”

“I was safe here. We were in love. Our entire lives were ahead of us, but once Boris was lost, it didn't mean anything. I had to find him. Everyone said I couldn't but I did.”

“So much has gone on. You've been gone for so long. What makes you think you can be happy living on a beach in the middle of nowhere, Ivan?”

“It's the only place I've ever been happy. That's why.”

“I believe that too, Ivan. That's not the problem. Trusting you is the problem. Trusting you with my son. Today was a good start.”

“My life is tied to this beach, to you. I am no one without you. I was in the wind for ten years. I was always on the way home to you.”

“You're home. The longer you stay the easier it'll be for me. This is the second day. We'll see.”

“A rolling stone gathers no moss, makes no friends, and puts down no roots. I found Boris and I came home to be with you.”

He was looking at me again. I looked back, listening carefully, hoping to hear something to build on. My heart pounded.

“Dylan was quite a bonus. You can't imagine what I felt when I came face to face with my son for the first time. He's the best reason we have for sticking together. Two fathers are better than one.”

“You are his father and he deserves a chance to get to know you. I will give you this warning: pull a disappearing act on Dylan, and he'll turn his back on you. I know that much. He lost his mother. His father never gave him the time of day. Now that you have, he expects you to be in his life. I expect you to be in Dylan's life. He's willing to give you a chance. Don't fuck it up. Don't hurt my son, Ivan.”

There was no answer to that.

Ivan knew the ice was thin where he stood. Ivan was home. Only one thing would convince us he intended to stay home.

“I never thought that you might like Sunshine. She was sweet. I just had to go.”

“I hardly remember her. She was in my life for such a short period of time. I went from dealing with losing you to dealing with taking care of her. Didn't leave much time to feel sorry for myself. I grew up fast after she died. I was all Dylan had. That's responsibility.”

“You've shouldered it well, Clay. You are somebody.”

“There's one other thing I know, Mr. Aleksa. I'd never have done any of it if you hadn't been my friend, Ivan. All that I've become came through doors you opened for me. I may not act like it but I know it's true.”

“That's nice to hear, Clay. You were something when I met you.”

“I've done OK. I'll take you with me when I campaign for Harry. You can't imagine campaigning with a politician. It's a hoot. He's going to be a senator, you know. He'll begin campaigning late this summer. Over the next year he plans to stop everywhere there are voters in Florida.”

“He told me,” Ivan said. “He seemed pretty sure of himself.”

“You talked to Harry?” I asked.

“Let's not go there. He made some things possible that helped me get back here sooner. Without Harry, I might not be here, or anywhere else.”

“You're right. Let's not go there. He's my boss. I wouldn't want to have to give him hell for holding out on me. Harry's a good man.”

“Funny!” Ivan said. “When I hear him talk, he makes you sound like the boss. He has a lot of respect for who you are and what you’ve become, you know? You'd never have done it with me here to distract you. You do know that, don't you?”

“I'd like to have tried,” I said. “I suppose I wouldn't have gone as fast as I did with you gone, but once I began studying the Gulf, I was pretty sure of what I wanted to do. Harry made it all possible. It fit right in with what he does and we've made the conservancy a preeminent force for the Gulf of Mexico.”

We were holding hands again. It was natural for us.

“According to Harry, you are the conservancy.”

“No, I'm a big part of it but Harry is the conservancy. He'll be there long after I'm gone. It's his baby. I just change the diapers.”

“I'd never have left the beach if it wasn't for you, you know.”

“How's that?”

“You don't remember what you told me?”

“No!”

“You told me that if I didn't go to find Boris, no one would. You said that to get me to sober up. You were right.”

“So you went because I said that?”

“I'd probably have gone sooner or later, but you put the idea in my mind. Even then, I could barely feel Boris. I wasn't sure he was alive. That was when he almost died. Before they amputated his arm. Then he began to get stronger and I felt him growing stronger when I focused on him.”

I looked at him while he spoke.

“I'm not saying you didn't do a good job. Harry said he didn't know another human being who would have done what you did. I told Harry you could fly.”

Ivan laughed.

“I'm not confined by things other people let confine them. If I decide I can do something, I do it. By the way, I've decided we're going to love each other for the rest of our lives. We'll die on this beach on the same day. I'll die first because I couldn't imagine being alive in a world without you in it.”

“Now you're really playing dirty. I hope your right. I'd like believe that. Maybe in a few years I will. It's only the second day.”

His hand squeezed mine as he looked into my eyes.

“I've got a long way to go before I can think about dying, Ivan. You're the only man I've ever loved. I knew at fifteen, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Give me a little time before I'm convinced you're home to stay.”

“Had I not gone. Had we gone about our business, a piece of me would have always been missing. I'd have been left to wonder what happened to Boris. We are connected. As long as we're both alive, that connection will be there.”

“It's good that you went then.”

“I'll love you the best I know how and as often as you'll let me”

“We've never had any trouble there, Ivan. We can't be together fifteen minutes without eyeballing each other in an unmistakable way. Sex isn't enough to hold us together. I need more than that now.”

“It kept us together last night,” he said.

“I need another soda, babe. You want one?”

“Yes, please,” I said.

He let go of my hand and stood up. He leaned to kiss my cheek before heading for the kitchen.

My heart pounded inside my chest. His smell, his touch had me wanting more.

*****

Ivan came back through the curtains onto the deck. He didn't say anything and he didn't hand me my soda. I turned to check to see where he was. I felt his hand under my arm. i was suddenly standing. One thing had changed. He was way stronger than he used to be.

Once I was facing him, our lips were together and apart and together. He held me close. The night took on a white hot urgency. Making love to him was the only thing that would cool things down.

We did what we'd always done at times like that. It was natural.

There was no resistance and nothing to be said. Only a solid male body pressing against mine. I knew what to do. I knew the body, the man, and all that had passed between us.

If that wasn't love, I don't know what is.

We sank into that deep down bed. I melted into Ivan until we were one, as we'd once been. As we were always meant to be.

I could have fought my feelings a while longer. I could have found a dozen reasons why we shouldn't fall in love again. None came to mind as we merged into a single motion and mind.

His lips, his touch, the music playing in my head, I didn't want it to end. Life would go on and we'd decide how to move cautiously at some later date.

We'd need to stop making love to do that, but not right now.

*****

Chapter 34

Pirates

The day was bright.

I woke up in Ivan's safe powerful arms.

His lips were immediately kissing mine. He'd been waiting for me to wake up.

“Morning glory,” he said softly. “You do look good, babe.”

“Dylan has to go to school. I'm going to be late,” I said, hopping out of bed in one motion.

“You didn't mention you might stay the night?” Ivan asked.

“I hinted at it but I didn't say I was staying over night. I never intend to, but once I'm with you, leaving becomes impossible.”

“I set the alarm. It will go off at fifteen to seven. I won't let you be late, Clay. I'll walk down with you and I'll go with you when you take him to school. He needs to see us together as often as possible.”

“Yeah, we'll go together,” I said, stretching to look at a view of the Gulf I didn't get from my porch.

“In time he'll get accustomed to us being together,” Ivan said.

Ivan joined me on the deck and we embraced, kissing on the bright clear morning.

“It's seven,” Ivan said at seven.

We dressed and headed down the beach to the conservancy house.

“We can pick up where we left off when we come back. Will your mother feed us? We need to keep our strength up.”

“If we show up and look hungry, Mama will feed us,” I said.

*****

As I came through the double doors into my bedroom, Dylan was sitting on the edge of my bed next to the nightstand.

He stood up as soon as he saw me.

“You weren't here. You're always here when I get up, Daddy.”

“Where did I tell you I was going after we read last night?”

“To my father's. You've always been here,” said with some stress in his voice.

“I won't stay up there again. You come first, kiddo. You don't want me to stay at Ivan's, I won't. That's all there is to it.”

He hugged me tightly like he was worried something happened to me. Dylan hadn't needed to stay as close to me as he once did. This was a side of him that didn't surface often.

“That's not what I said,” he said, not letting go. “You're usually here. I'll get used to it, Daddy. I'm not a child. I know you and my father have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You aren't a child but you are the most important person to me. Nothing comes before you, kiddo.”

“I'm fine. I just worried I might be late for school is all.”

I looked at the clock.

“It's twenty after seven. We have an hour and ten minutes to drive six miles, you think we might have time for breakfast?”

“Yeah,” he said, giggling. “I wasn't upset, Daddy. I wasn't. I want you and my father to be friends again.”

“Hey, do I get one of those or am I too ugly?” Ivan asked.

Dylan's face lit up. He practically jumped into Ivan's arms. Ivan held him close as the tears ran.

Ivan was home.

“We're OK, junior. We're going to be fine. We make a good team,” Ivan said. “The three of us. We're going to spend a lot of time together.”

“What's wrong with your eyes,” Dylan asked, standing back.

“Oh, it's breezy. I got sand in my eyes walking down here,” Ivan said.

“Everything is OK then?” Dylan asked, looking from Ivan to me.

“Fine. Everything is fine,” I said.

Ivan said the right things and Dylan felt comfortable around him.

“I've got a great idea,” Dylan said excitedly. “Let's skip school and go diving again. That was so much fun. The teachers can make it through one more day without me, Daddy.”

“No!” I said.

“Ah, Daddy. I want to spend the day with you guys.”

“We'll dive twice a week all summer.”

“We will! Cool!” Dylan said.

“Three times a week some weeks.”

“At our reef?”

“At our reef,” I said. “You have a couple weeks of school left. You need to go every day. We'll take you and pick you up.”

“You think your mother did biscuits this morning?” Ivan asked. “I had dreams about those biscuits.”

“If she got up, she did biscuits,” Dylan said. “They're super with her strawberry preserves. I had one with butter and honey last week. That was the cat's meow.”

We laughed.

“They're super with just butter,” Ivan said. “I'm starved. Maybe she did bacon.”

We went downstairs and into the kitchen together.

*****

“Drop me at my car. I've got an errand to run,” Ivan said, after we took Dylan to school.

“You have a car?”

“Yeah, how do you think I got all those people back east?”

“You bought a car and drove?”

“Boris didn't do well on the plane. I figured it would be easier on him if we drove back. When I called you, I said I'd see you in three days. You thought the plane took three days?”

“No, I thought you were flying home in three days,” I said.

“I drove. We saw the country. You know it's a beautiful country? Too bad about the people. The way they treated the original owners should have been an indication. It's how they looked at Boris and his family at some of the restaurants where we stopped. People stared.”

“Thank heavens we live in Florida,” I said.

“Yeah, only half the people are warped in Florida,” Ivan said. “Boy are they ever. Present company excluded.”

Ivan leaned and kissed my cheek. I blushed.

“I'll be home in a couple of hours, dear. Have I ever told you that I love you?”

“You aren't going to Tampa?”

“No. Didn't I tell you I'm home to stay? I'm not going anywhere. I'll be back in a couple of hours. I have an errand to run. Don't think you're ever going to get me out of your hair, Olson. You're stuck with me now.”

“I'll be at work. I pick up Dylan at two thirty, if you want to go.”

“I do. I do.”

*****

I went to work and caught up with some notes I'd written the week before. I did my filing and I checked my camera and film to be sure I had enough for my next dive. At fifteen to two Ivan came in with a bag of jelly donuts.

“You hungry?” Ivan asked.

“Starved,” I said.

“Where you been?”

“I just came from your house. I had coffee with your mother. We had a nice chat.”

“I'm not home,” I said.

“I noticed. I left you something.”

“More donuts?”

“Better. I left Dylan something too.”

“At least tell me what you left Dylan.”

` “What you both need. Something I should have bought you a long time ago.”

“Tell me these aren't complimentary parting gifts,” I said.

“I told you, Olson, you're stuck with me. I ain't going nowhere.”

Ivan threw his arms around me and gave me a big kiss.

“Cherry,” he said in an analytical tone.

“Cherry?” I asked.

“I was just checking to see what flavor jelly was in your donut. It's cherry.”

I laughed.

“You're hopeless,” I said.

“Hopelessly in love with you, babe. It's nice being home.”

“Time to pick up Dylan,” I said.

*****

Dylan flew out the door when he saw the Chevy.

“Hi! Both of you. Cool!” he said. “Where we going?”

“Home. Your father has bought us something and he can't wait for us to see what it is,” I said.

“What is it, Daddy-O?”

“You'll see,” Ivan said. “What do you think we're having for dinner?”

“You particular?” I asked.

“No, anxious. It's so nice to get good food again. You don't understand what people eat over there. Some of it was still alive,” Ivan said.

“Yuk!” Dylan said. “You ate something that was alive? Gross!”

“Just bugs. In Southeast Asia you don't get a wide variety of menu selections when someone hands you food. If you're hungry, you close your eyes and eat.”

“Yuk!” Dylan said.

I dropped Ivan off to get his car and he followed us home. We all headed upstairs when we came into the house. I could smell the corn beef and cabbage before I got to the second floor landing.

I went in through my door. Dylan went in through his door. I heard Dylan squeal.

With Ivan behind me, I picked up the teddy bear off my bed. It was three feet tall. I hugged it to me and I looked at Ivan.

“It's just what I always wanted,” I said. “It's perfect.”

“Daddy, look,” Dylan yelped, standing in the door with a teddy bear even bigger than the one I got. “He got you one too. Thanks, Daddy-O. It's great. I love it. I love you.”

“Sorry I missed so much of your lives. I plan to do better.”

Dylan held the bear by one arm and he jumped into Ivan's arms.

“Thank you. I love it. I think we'll let you stay for a while.”

“Not so fast, kiddo. Are you going to let him buy your affection with a lousy teddy bear. I think we can do better if we hold out.”

“The teddy bear is fine. I just want him home. I want him to stay home and pick me up at school every day and take me to school too.”

“Don't know. He's a busy man,” I said.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Ivan said. “I'm not too busy for my two favorite men.”

*****

I slept in my own bed for the rest of that week. Ivan came down to get into my bed two of those nights.

We made love quietly. As quietly as we could anyway.

After the night I wasn't in my bedroom when Dylan got up, I didn't stay in Ivan's bed all night. I was back in my before daylight.

Ivan had stayed in my bed the night before I stayed out. He got up to go home at first light.

As I picked out a shirt to wear, Dylan came into my room.

“I was thinking, Daddy, since I'm growing up, I'd like a little privacy. Can you close the door between our rooms? We can use it to go in and out during the day, but let's close it at night.”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” I said.

My son was definitely not a child.

When we finished reading that night, I closed the door behind me when I went into my room.

I put my hand on the door remembering the day I brought Sunshine home and she picked the lock on it.

It hadn't been closed since, until now.

*****

Dylan was out of school the last week in May. We went on a dive the first day and our son was excited to be out of school. Instead of clams at J.K.'s, we went for pizza and played Goofy Golf. It was a day when Dylan could let loose his energy and he didn't need to sit in a classroom for six hours.

I took Dylan and Ivan on dives as often as I could. If I saw something I wanted to go back to check out, I'd go alone, letting Ivan and Dylan have time alone, but most things the three of us did together. It was a time like no other time in my life. I think Ivan and I drew closer because of our love for Dylan. It gave us a lot more things to do, even if you can only play so many rounds of Goofy Golf before you dread hearing the words, 'Let's play Goofy Golf.'

Popov threw me a birthday part at J.K.'s a couple of weeks after Dylan got out of school for the summer. Later on my birthday, after sirloin steak and baked potatoes for dinner, Mama brought out a cake with twenty-nine candles and lots of ice cream to go with it. It capped off a day when I had everything I wanted and I couldn't have asked for more.

As I sat on the deck outside Ivan's room late that evening, he was holding my hand when he slipped the gold band on it.

“Oh my God!” was all I could say.

Never being one to pass up a chance to make extra points with his lover, he handed me a ring box, presenting me with his hand. In the box was an identical ring to mine. I slipped it on his finger.

“I love you, Clay. With all my heart, I love you, babe.”

I kissed him and he kissed me and one thing led to another and that led to the over stuffed down bed I loved. I wouldn't make it home that night, but Dylan didn't need to go to school and our son had started to sleep until after eight, and Ivan and I were there when he got up.

I was sure someone would mention the rings but I didn't care if they did. There were people who would frown on our love but Ivan and I weren't one of them. Being in love was as good as it got.

*****

Dylan's tenth birthday was a big deal. Ivan and I took him out to get some models to assemble and a couple of comic books he requested. Lucy gave him books and Mama and Pop gave him clothes, the new tennis shoes he wanted, and more books. They were hoping he didn't out grow them before breakfast.

In the morning we went diving and we got pizza at Tony's before we heard the magic words, “Let's play Goofy Golf!”

It was his birthday and the final Goofy Golf of the summer.

*****

Ivan was true to his word. He didn't leave our beach well into the summer. We were having a whirlwind time of it and Ivan wasn't finish buying things, although what he bought next wasn't discussed with Dylan or me.

We went to J.K.'s on most dive days. Now I went to J.K.'s all the time and I ran into Popov maybe once a month. I knew which days he fished and which days the fleet was in the cove. I wasn't surprised when Popov popped up to say hello.

All of a sudden, each time we went to J.K.'s, Popov was there. Each time Popov took Ivan to the rear booth where J.K. And his staff sat when they were taking a break.

“What was that all about?” I asked, when he came back to the table.

“Just talking. Popov and I go way back, you know?”

“I'd heard rumors. What do you talk about.”

“This and that,” Ivan said, taking one of his cold clams.

“What are you cooking up, Daddy-O? You and Popov talk every time we come in here lately. It must be something good,” Dylan said.

“He's giving me some tips on charter boats. I've decided to buy a boat to take people sport fishing. You know Popov has to approve anyone who sets up business in the cove. What he doesn't own he controls. I wouldn't make a move before consulting with him. He's a wise old pirate. He sailed his entire fishing fleet out of Russia under the nose of the Soviets.”

“I'd heard,” I said.

*****

Ivan took some of his grandfather's fishing gear along, when I was collecting water samples and measuring the currents. Dylan and Ivan fished as we moved from place to place at a pace conducive to trolling.

Ivan had unlocked the secret room with his grandfather's ancient fishing equipment. He was in the process of cleaning and oiling each item. When we went out on the water, Ivan tried it out to make sure it was in good working condition.

Ivan was using one of the work benches in Pop's shop to work on the fishing gear. I was sure customers who would go charter fishing with him would use the equipment he worked on.

*****

When Ivan disappeared from my general vicinity at the conservancy laboratory, I could find him at Pop's shop working on one of the reels.

With two employees doing the many chores that kept the conservancy in good working order, Pop had time to sit down and talk with Ivan during the day.

They enjoyed each other's company. Both had mechanical minds and they could often be heard talked about problems with no easy fix at the conservancy. They managed to solve most problems.

Several times when I overheard them, as I came in from the lab, they would be in Pop's office and Ivan would be talking about the time he'd spent in Southeast Asia.

It wasn't a subject that came up often as far as Dylan and I were concerned. These conversation stopped when I appeared and the subject was changed. It was obvious that Ivan had experienced some difficult times while in the hands of the men he ended up working for.

*****

One day in July, as I went to Pop's shop to collect Ivan to go diving, Harry came in from the conservancy entrance.

The embrace was immediate. I wasn't the one receiving Harry's hug.

“You look good,” Harry said. “Being back in Florida must agree with you.”

“Sure does,” Ivan said. “I couldn't wait to get back here.”

“Your father is well?”

“Yes, Dad's happy to be back and fishing with Popov.”

“Clay, nice seeing you too. I trust you are staying busy?”

“Yes, I am. We are about to go diving on my reef. You're welcome to come along if you want, Harry,” I said.

I once again suspected a history between Harry and Ivan that I might never be told about.

“Not today I'm afraid. I am expecting to meet with some Florida officials from the party in a couple of hours, Clay. We'll have time to catch up at lunch tomorrow.”

“You look good, Ivan. Better than when we met at my office in the Capitol. I'm up to my ears in politics today but the three of us will go to lunch at the Gulf Club tomorrow if you can make the time. I'm here to have a word with your father. Don't want to keep you two from your dive.”

“Thanks again, Harry. I wouldn't have gotten to Boris if you hadn't gotten to my... employer. I'm not sure I'd be here if you hadn't gone to bat for me,” Ivan said.

“Ivan, one day I'll tell you the story about my meeting with the man responsible for the men you were working for,” Harry said.

“I look forward to that conversation,” Ivan said.

I did too if they talked with me around.

“Clay, be sure to leave time in your schedule for lunch around noon tomorrow,” Harry said. “Can you meet me there. I have a meeting at eleven and I'll go directly to the Gulf Club afterward.”

“We'll be there,” I said.

I looked forward to hearing their conversation. Harry told me about his run in with Mr. Big. I was sure I got the G rated version. He did his best not to upset me.

Hearing Ivan and Harry talk on the subject would be interesting.

*****

Ivan had slipped back into a life on our beach that suited Dylan and me fine. The Olsons and some times his father became reacquainted with the boy who had become a man far from us. As much as I worried about this, the Ivan who came home was much like the Ivan that left.

We'd yet to discuss his journey but he assured Dylan and me that one day he'd be able to talk about it. Even when we met with Harry, the conversation was more about politics and his run for the senate than it was about Ivan and his quest to find his lost brother.

Harry's absence from the conservancy for longer and longer periods of time meant he was getting his ducks in a row in a run for the senate. It would require over a year of campaigning if he wanted to be a senator. There would be a big event in Tampa in August that would kick off his campaigning in Florida.

“I'm going to need a lot more from you during this campaign, Clayton. This is a statewide effort that will introduce you to larger audiences and new places,” Harry said.

“Being elected senator will bring me to the national stage. With environmentalism beginning to catch the imagination of people everywhere, you'll be speaking to believers,” Harry told me.

“Harry, whatever you need, you let me know where to be and I'll be there. I've never had a senator in the family. I'm anxious to see what that might be like.”

“It takes a lot of money to become a senator. I need to cover the state with campaign stops. After I speak, you'll tell them about what we've done and what we plan for the Gulf of Mexico,” he said, sipping from his bourbon and branch water.

“We start off with the biggest auditorium you've ever seen. We kick off the campaign in Tampa. All the states biggest money men will be there. Most are involved with commerce in the Gulf in one way or another. The auditorium seats five thousand. My people intend to fill it.”

“What happened to name recognition, Harry?” I asked.

“In a single district, you don't have that much ground to cover. Florida is huge and we need to let all the people know what we do. At first we'll make ripples but in time we'll get some national press and some national recognition for you and the conservancy, I'm sure.”

I believed in Harry and the things he wanted to accomplish. That made speaking on his behalf a labor of love. What I did had taken on a life of its own, because of Harry's donors and friends of the Gulf.

Mostly Harry and I talked in this July meeting. We hadn't talked since before Ivan returned to our beach and he hadn't been home in ages.

Everything was full speed ahead. I'd need to go over my notes and make sure my appearance for Harry in Tampa would go well.

*****

I tried to take Dylan and Ivan with me on the Sea Lab as often as I could. From time to time I went out with other marine biologists and it wasn't appropriate to take my lover and my son along. These were professional calls and I took visitors to one of the better known diving spots.

I'd gathered the history of the conservancy back to its founder, Mr Broadmore, leaving out the fact he hung himself at my current residents.

Lucy took the written history the summer before, had some of the pictures on the conservancy's walls copied, and she produced a handsome brochure with Harry and me on the front and the history, with pictures, inside the brochure.

At the back of the brochure were pictures of the Sea Lab, inside and out, to bring the person reading the history up to date.

I gave the brochure to anyone who visited my laboratory. As news of Harry's run for the senate became public, the people coming to visit me increased. There was a lot of interest in Harry's campaign and I tooted his horn as loudly as I could.

*****

If I wanted to see Ivan during one of my busy days, he'd be in Pop's shop working on the fishing gear. On the days Dylan wasn't at the shop, he was content to spend the day with Mama and Lucy, once my lab had begun to bore him after an hour or two.

` *****

It was July when I went into Dylan's room to read before he went to bed and I noticed some of the books from Ivan's stacked on Dylan's desk. He wasn't in school and didn't bring home books from the school library during the summer. He went to Ivan's for books instead.

Ivan read from the same books after we first met. These were his grandfather's books. They told a history that didn't appear in school books.

“What are these?” I asked.

“Daddy-O has all kinds of books on history and philosophy. He reads to me when I go up there some days. I brought some books home to read. My great grandfather built Ivan's house. He was a fisherman too. These were his books.”

“Ivan and I used to read those when we were about your age,” I said.

“They talk a lot about the condition of the world between World War I and World War II. My great grandfather order the books in English so he could learn the language. He planned to come here from Lithuania for a long time.

“It's good you are interested in things you don't read about in text books. Many of the books we read are written by authors who didn't live in America,” I said.

“Charles Dickens wrote about the conditions in England,” Dylan said.

“Yes, he did. He's a good example of an author who didn't live here.”

“My great grandfather did the same thing Captain Popov did. He came to America to escape the Soviets. That took balls,” Dylan said.

“It did,” I said. “It must run in the family.”

“How's that?” Dylan asked.

“What your father did was just as gutsy as what your great grandfather did.”

“Yes, it was,” Dylan agreed.

*****

As was the custom in the cove, the fishing fleet stayed in port for July. It was one of the hottest and most taxing months for anyone that worked outside. Taking July and February off meant less wear and tear on the equipment and the fishermen. No one complained.

There was the trip I made with Popov in those two months to study the conditions in his fishing grounds. This year it was the week after Dylan's birthday but that didn't matter either. On the way back the cake and ice cream came out.

This was the month when Ivan's meetings with Popov reached fever pitch. Each time Ivan suggested we stop by J.K.'s, he ended up in a huddle with Popov. Nothing was revealed after the meetings. To say Ivan was evasive was an understatement.

At the end of the third week in July, we went to J.K.'s for clams and hush puppies. Popov was there and Ivan was immediately in conference with him.

This time when Ivan came back to an empty plate, Dylan had eaten his clams and hush puppies.

“Snooze, you lose, Daddy-O!” Dylan exclaimed. “I didn't want your clams to get cold.”

“Glad I wasn't starving,” Ivan said. “I guess there are more clams where those came from.”

“What's in the envelope?” I asked.

Ivan handed the envelope to me.

“It's for you,” he said, with the most devilish smile on his face.

I opened the envelope and began to read a bill of sale; two bill of sales.

“It's in Greek,” I said. “Why not tell me what I'm looking at.”

“The party of the first part, Popov, sells to the party of the second part, Ivan Aleksa, the Bait Shop, now to be known as Cove Dive, Surf, & Bait Shop, plus all adjacent property. That would be the parking lot and the boat ramp. Plus I bought the marina, which is the right of way for the slips. I don't own the cove. It's public property and controlled by the state of Florida.”

Dylan took the papers and looked at them.

“What are these seals?” Dylan asked.

“They needed to be motorized. That's the seal. It makes it official.”

“You own the Bait Shop and the marina,” I asked.

“Now the Cove Dive, Surf, and Bait Shop. I registered the name. We, as in party of the first part, meaning you, and I, being the party of the second part, own it. There's a place for you to sign next to the seal where I signed.”

“You didn't take advantage of Captain Popov, did you?”

“That old pirate? You kidding me? I wanted to buy the Bait Shop. We talked about it and he tells me it's all or nothing. He wants me to buy the marina. He won't rent me a slip for my charter boat. If I buy the marina I can rent myself as many slips as I like.”

“Where's all the money coming from? Your money went toward it and most of what I earned while I was away went into the Cove, etc., etc. The kicker is, Popov gets twenty-five percent of our profits.”

“That's a lot,” I said.

“Popov is a good businessman. He took less than he wanted for the marina and he gets twenty-five percent after two years.”

“That's amazing,” I said. “You are going to expand the Bait Shop?”

“I am. Not right away. I can borrow on the value of what we own to build a bigger structure to carry the things we'll want to sell.”

“We own something?” Dylan asked.

“We do,” Ivan said. “I'm broke now. I couldn't go anywhere if I wanted to. For all interested parties, I don't want to.”

*****

It was obvious that Ivan planned to stay. I stopped worrying about him leaving me but it worried me until he put most of his money into the cove. That would keep him on or near our beach most of the time.

Life on our beach, at the house next to the river, and at the conservancy house couldn't have been better.

I knew the principle of life turning on a dime. It had turned on me more than once. I was so happy that I wasn't prepared for hard times. I never saw it coming. This turn would K.O. me. Even with Ivan and Dylan trying to pick me up, I went down for the count.

It was unclear I had the ability to come back.

Chapter 35

As Reefs Go

It was the following week that my world of marine biology hit one hell of a speed bump. I was acquainted with having the rug pulled out from under me. I was a professional man as in charge of his career as any man had been. I was high on a future senator's list of assets.

Ivan was home and all signs pointed toward him staying.

*****

It was on a Thursday. Dylan had come to the lab with Ivan after lunch. It was hot and humid. A typical July day and a good day for a cooling dive.

We went diving twice a week once Dylan was out of school for the summer. I knew once they arrived, we'd leave almost immediately for the marina, after telling Pop we were off for a dive.

We were happy. Ivan had just made a big investment in the cove, and no one thought he'd be anywhere else for the next twenty or thirty years.

I saw it first and I swung a mile west of the dive site to come in with the sun directly behind the Sea Lab. At two in the afternoon it rendered us invisible to any craft directly east of us.

I let the engines idle only a minute before dropping anchor. We stood off almost a mile from the vessel in question.

I picked up my binoculars and walked out behind the bridge. Both Dylan and Ivan followed. They weren't sure what was wrong but they knew this wasn't the usual routine.

“Who is it?” Ivan asked.

“Don't know,” I said. “But they shouldn't be where they are.”

“Where's that, Daddy,” Dylan asked.

“Directly over my reef.”

Both Dylan and Ivan took a closer look.

“You two stay here. I'm going to put on my equipment and go take a look,” I said.

“Over my dead body you will,” Ivan said. “You don't know what they're up to.”

“They're on top of my reef. I want to know what they're doing,” I said.

“Look, slick, you don't know what they're doing. They could be armed. They could be dangerous. I just came back from a place where bandits would cut your throat as soon as look at you if you get in their way. We have our son with us and you aren't the Lone Ranger.”

“Pirates?” Dylan asked.

“On the sea you call men like that pirates, yes,” Ivan said. “You need to call the coast guard, Clay.”

“Wait a minute. They've got something on their crane. I'm trying to see what it is.”

“Let me take a look,” Ivan said.

I handed him the binoculars once I knew what was on their hook.

“It's a cannon. Where in the world did that get a cannon.”

“Off the shipwreck. It's likely a twelve or sixteen pounder.”

“Hell that thing weighs a ton. What's twelve or sixteen got to do with it?” Ivan asked.

“It's the size of the ball cannons used from early in the eighteenth century.”

“Sea Lab to coast guard base. Sea Lab....”

“Go ahead Sea Lab. This you Captain Olson. What's up on this fine July afternoon.”

Ivan handed me the microphone as I came onto the bridge.

“This is Captain Olson of the Sea Lab. I have a salvage ship sitting on top of what I believe is an eighteenth century shipwreck. They've got a cannon on the hook as we speak. You can catch them in the act, coast guard base.”

“This is Harold, Clay.”

“Hello, Harold. You need to get a boat out here and see what these folks are up to.”

“That the reef you've been diving the last few years?” Harold asked.

“Harold, they're already destroying that ship. It can't take any pressure. It's hundreds of years old. They're interested in what might be in it.”

“Coast guard one is on the way. Confirm that we're talking the reef I mentioned.”

“Yes, that's where I am.”

“Clay, stay off from the site. These men are probably armed. We get this a couple of times a year. They fly over and spot something in the water and send a boat to loot the sites that look promising. I know you feel like you need to stop them, but I'm ordering you to stand down and wait for Coast Guard One. Are you clear on that?”

“I am, Harold. I understand the danger. How'd you know I was diving this reef?” I asked.

“Captain Olson, we're the coast guard. We know everything that goes on in our waters. You park out there twice a week. You think we haven't noticed that floating castle of yours. I”d recognize the Sea Lab from ten miles off. Now I want you to stand down. Make no attempt to approach. Coast guard one will be there in eighteen minutes.”

“10-4. Sea Lab out.”

“Coast guard base out.”

“You realize what they had to do to get to that cannon?” Ivan asked.

“I know,” I said, walking out to stare at where my reef once was.

My insides felt empty.

*****

The coast guard came with lights and siren. It was like watching the Calvary charging in. The men scurried about the deck but they were out gunned and quickly threw their hands in the air.

“Sea Lab, this is coast guard base. You got your ears on, Clay.”

“Yeah, Harold. What you got.”

“The scene is secure. Nine sailors are under arrest. I have something for you to mark down. Got a pencil?”

“Shoot!” I said.

Harold gave me three sets of map readings.

“What's this for, Harold.”

“For you, Clay. You know what they did to your reef?”

“Yes!”

“These are ship wrecks from earlier in this century. None are as seasoned as the Spanish shipwreck. The first readings I gave you are a site I've been diving. The reef is small but growing. You'll be able to watch a juvenile reef do its thing. I'll take you out when you're ready to dive on it. You may be surprised.”

“Thanks, Harold. I'll get back to you on these. Sea Lab out.”

“Sorry we couldn't do more, Captain Olson. Coast Guard Base out.”

*****

Not diving on a hot July afternoon was more difficult than going on our dive.

The coast guard had come and towed away the ship that was parked on top of my reef when we got there. Dylan and Ivan wanted to go diving and see if they'd damaged the reef.

I didn't want to face it right away. I'd come back one more time. I wasn't sure how I'd handle seeing my reef or how I might document it, but I was working on it.

“You want another order of clams, Dylan?” I asked, as we sat at J.K.'s processing the aborted dive.

“I want another order,” Ivan said. “I'll split it with junior.”

“I still don't get why we didn't dive, Daddy,” Dylan said. “Did you want to look at the reef?”

“Those men disturbed the reef. It's a living animal. We need to leave it alone for a while. I have a couple of new sites we'll try. See what other reefs have to offer.

“Cool,” Dylan said, shoveling in the last of his clams.

“I'm glad we're going to see another reef,” Ivan said. “We'd seen that one. There wasn't much there we hadn't seen.”

“No,” I said. “Not much.”

Ivan knew what I knew and shifting Dylan's attention to other things was advisable at this point. I wasn't in the mood to figure out where we might shift our diving to. There were other sites I was aware of and spots where I went diving with Bill Payne. They weren't private spots and other divers came and went on most days.

Diving was a growing activity in the clear Gulf waters.

*****

I was in no hurry to return to the reef where the pirates had been. Ivan began work on the house next to the river a few days after we were last out on the sea Lab. He had Dylan helping him and talk of diving had subsided for the time being.

Ivan kept Dylan busy painting the outside of the house. It had needed a coat of paint since the first time I visited him there.

When Ivan wasn't working on the house, he continued taking apart and cleaning his grandfather's fishing gear. It was exacting work that took days to disassemble, clean, and put the gear back together again. It had all been hand made.

Ivan would be a fisherman but not with his father. He had the charter boat on order. He was sure the future was in sport fishing and charter boat tours for vacationers. Ivan didn't want to be gone for three days a week or more.

He could take sports fishermen out before sunrise and have them back by dark. That would be enough fishing for anyone and Ivan could sleep in his own bed.

Ivan was working on an advertising strategy to bring business to the cove. Lucy was helping him create literature that could highlight the services he wanted to offer and be used in tourist advertising papers and magazines around the state.

I didn't know much about Ivan's plans. He liked to surprise me.

*****

I waited a couple of days before going back to the reef. I was in no hurry. What I found wasn't going to change in two days or two years. Seeing it would bring finality to my work there. I knew what I wanted to do without knowing how to use it.

When I visited my reef for the last time, I went alone. I took the Nikon and plenty of film with me. I wanted to document my final dive from beginning to end. I needed to document what had been done there. I wasn't certain about what I was going to see. It was obvious, to get to the cannon the pirates had on their hook, they had to remove the reef, which grew on top of the shipwreck.

I anchored the Sea Lab where I usually left it while diving on the reef. I got into my gear. With two full tanks of air, I'd have just under two hours to do what I came to do.

I eased myself down the ladder, pushing off to begin my approach. I took my time moving deeper into the Gulf while approaching the remains of the shipwreck.

The first thing I noticed was sediment in the water where the reef had been. At a distance where I could plainly see the outline of the reef, I could only see particulate matter in the water.

The reef was gone. It had been blown to pieces. It was dead. It wouldn't return to its former grandeur at some future date. My job was to see that its death wasn't in vain. I didn't know how I'd do it, but I would do something.

The reef was now rubble on the sea floor. I had prepared myself for what I saw but nothing could prepare me for it.

I approached carefully, clicking pictures of the cloud in the water where the reef had been. The sediment hid the graying reef until I was directly over it. The debris field stretched out in all directions. Burn marks from whatever explosive that was used to move the coral out of the way, also destroyed the last vestiges of the shipwreck where the coral took hold.

Wood hundreds of years old splintered from the force of the explosions. Destruction required so the pirates could reach the treasure within. That treasure consisted of four rusted cannon and fourteen hundred and ninety eight bricks used for ballast on an empty treasure ship.

The ship had entered the Straits of Florida to escape an unnamed storm in 1728. The storm caught the ship and it sank.

There were originally fifteen hundred bricks in the ships hold. A marine biologist who shall remain unnamed liberated two bricks to hold open the doors between his bedroom and the porch outside. I didn't confess to the theft. I didn't want them to offer me the rest of the bricks.

I clicked away. I swam above, around the sides, and from the trench where I'd taken thousands of slides over the years. I'd kept the history of a pristine reef for a time.

I could hardly see the broken pieces of coral from twenty feet away. The residue from the explosive was still prominent in the water.

Did they think they were blowing up the Titanic?

They'd destroyed the shipwreck and the reef completely.

The location that once thrived with color and life was dead. Nothing was alive in the water. Even the tiny microbes visible where the rays of the sun penetrating the water were gone or at least greatly diminished in number.

I focused on doing what I came to do. I clicked off the first roll of film in short order. I surfaced, drank some fresh water, reloaded my camera, before going back to finish up.

I wouldn't need to use all my air.

I wondered what kind of men did something like this. I knew only men who cared and did their best to preserve natural beauty. What kind of men blow up a coral reef?

I'd never dared to get this close to the reef before. My presence was a violation of the privacy of another living organism. Keeping my distance allowed life on the reef to go on undisturbed or with the least disturbance possible. .

I told myself that these pictures were for the greater good as I violated the reef's space one last time. I was documenting a dead reef. I'd studied its life and the life of the creatures it hosted. I got to observing it growing. It created a beauty the likes of which I never expected to see again. I had recorded it all on film.

I'd once thought, 'This is nature's Sistine Chapel.' I'm looking at a creation beyond any ability I had to imagine it. It stood alone to represent the best of the natural world. I expected it to go on forever. I expected to be diving on it when I was old and gray.

Now I was the mercenary. I'd kept a record of the reef over the years and I was here to document its death. As obscene as that was to me, I knew it's what I had to do to complete the story I told.

My air ran out. I had stayed longer than I intended. It was then a plan began to form. I'd surface and be safe. I had the film that told the final chapter in the story of the reef, my story.

By studying this reef I thought I could save it. If I could find a way to save this reef, I could save them all. By watching it's many incarnations, the incredible variety of life, I'd uncovered its secrets and document them on film. I was sure I could protect it, save it.

Had I led the pirates to my reef? Did they fly over and see the Sea Lab anchored next to it?

Had the fool who came to save it been its merchant of death. If the coast guard knew I was diving there, couldn't someone else have seen me and been made curious about what I might be doing?

As I swam back toward the Sea Lab, I remembered one of my earliest dives with Bill Payne. I was seventeen.

Bill said, 'We are the canary in the coal mine, Clay.'

I got it now. I couldn't save my reef. I couldn't save anything. What I could do was sound the alarm. I was here to warn the people. If you want to keep beauty in your world, stop destroying it.

I wasn't sure they would stop. I wasn't sure people cared enough to make an effort to preserve the beauty we had.

I left my reef for the final time, taking my pictures with me.

I wouldn't return.

*****

I developed the pictures and created the slides I wanted on the Sea Lab. Once I was back in my slip, I spent several days looking at the slides in the salon, trying to get an idea of their impact. When I had what I wanted, I contacted Harry.

“Yes, Clayton, how are you? Tampa in two weeks. The tenth of August.”

“I'm fine, Harry. The Tampa campaign stop. I have some slides I want to show the audience. Put me in touch with whoever I need to talk to about it.”

“Slides. You know it's at the auditorium in Tampa. We plan to speak to several thousand people that night. You think they'll sit still for a slide show?”

“I've incorporated the slides into my presentation. I'm working on some music to go with the slides. I need to know who to speak to so that they're ready for me when I speak.”

“I'll have the man making the arrangements for Tampa contact you with that information. This will be the opening for my campaign push. We'll be busy campaigning until next year's election. I'll be at the conservancy for a couple of days after Tampa. We'll meet and compare notes.”

“Thanks, Harry. I'll see you in Tampa.”

As soon as I got off the phone, I began writing the changes to my usual talk. I wasn't going to talk as long and the slides would last twenty minutes. I expected to be in front of the audience for thirty-five minutes. That's all the time I needed to do what I planned to do.

I didn't know how Harry would take it but I wasn't doing it for Harry. This had to be done and this audience was where I'd do it.

*****

Ivan drove Dylan and me to Tampa in his new Buick. He wasted no time getting us there. I followed the direction to the office where final arrangements were made for my presentation.

I took my slide show with me to Tampa. The auditorium was the biggest place where I'd spoken if not the biggest place I'd ever been in. It was set up as a multipurpose venue with lights, sound, and a first class slide projector were all provided. I was to bring a cassette with the music that went with the slides.

Everything was ready to go.

*****

Harry was going to be elected to the senate. Nothing I did could stop his momentum. All his regular donors and a lot more had been invited to Tampa.

My presentation, the story about Harry, me, and the Gulf of Mexico, came last. Most people enjoyed it. I told about Harry's dedication to the economic growth of Florida and my reach and our determination to keep the Gulf clean.

Tonight there was a new wrinkle. My praise of Harry wouldn't take quite as long and the slide show followed. It was choreographed to last 32 minutes, which was shorter than the usual speech I gave.

By this time most of Harry's donors knew me and they were well acquainted with what I did. There would be new donors that followed a politician to higher office. Most knew what the conservancy did. It remained to be seen how the rest of the audience would react.

I was there to tell my story and I intended to tell it.

Harry spoke just before I was announced. He'd arrived fifteen minutes ahead of time and remained in a huddle with advisers until he was announced. He bounced out on the stage to give one of the best speeches he'd given. He'd begun to grow into his roll as a future senator.

“Now for a man I depend upon to take the pulse of the Gulf and make sure it stays healthy. The marine biologist from my conservancy at Sanibel, Clayton Olson.”

There was modest applause when I was announced. Harry only used twenty-five minutes. They audience had been seated for a little over an hour and three speeches when I showed up.

It was hot and the main speaker had come and gone. I was the closing act before the exit music played, but no one walked out on me, not right away. There was a meet and greet after I spoke.

I walked to center stage and stood there looking out.

“Many of you know me as Clayton Olson. Some of you know me as a marine biologist. I'm called Captain Olson of the good ship Sea Lab by some of you. I am a marine biologist thanks to future senator Harry McCallister. I have a beautiful floating laboratory thanks to one of Harry's donors.”

“Harry saw to it I got the best education possible in his effort to keep the Gulf of Mexico healthy.

I nodded and smiled at Mr. Mosby. He was front row center. He returned my smile and nodded back. Most of the donors I knew had scored front row seats and I felt comfortable.

“You've heard me speak about the incredible creatures I come in contact with while I'm at work. Tonight I decided I'd show you that beauty. I brought some slides. Don't panic. They are worth the few minutes it'll take to show them to you. I never get tired of seeing the underwater world that I study,” I said.

“The Gulf of Mexico is one of the most incredible bodies of water in the world. Harry's conservancy is determined to keep it that way.”

The music was light and fanciful. A single piano furnished a delicate sound as the lights went low. The slide projector came to life.

“The Gulf is filled with life.”

The slide projector clicked each time a slide changed. The wall behind me became the screen. The images were large enough for everyone to see.

Each slide appeared for twenty seconds. I picked out the richest colors. These were the best slides from the thousands of pictures I'd taken. They represented a living rainbow of color.

The coral was brilliant white. I named each unique species that came into view. The projector clicked off each slide.

“This is a living reef,” I said.

The auditorium had fallen quiet. There were sounds of awe when the more spectacular creatures appeared behind me. I may not win an academy award but my audience was hooked on the underwater world.

I didn't see how it could be otherwise. I got chills when I looked at my slides.

As the slides clicked off, I described the condition as well as the scene they were seeing.

The beauty had painted its own pictures. I simply offered a name for what each image showed. How can you describe something where there are no words to compare to its grandeur?

After the fortieth slide, the lights came up. The delicate piano piece stopped playing.

“What I've shown you tonight are slides of my reef. It's beautiful. I decided it wasn't fair keeping it to myself. Since I can't invite you to go diving with me, I did the next best things. I hope you enjoyed it.

The audience applauded, sensing I was nearing the end, and I was, but I wasn't quite done yet.

“This is a special reef. It grew, coral being a living animal, on an ancient shipwreck. You see why I love my work.”

I didn't expect the applause here.

I waited for it to subside.

“Most of you know me as Harry's man in the Gulf, because I work at his conservancy. Our business is the Gulf of Mexico, where I document what's going on and how conditions are changing,” I said.

“It's all made possible by Harry. I have the best equipment. I got the best education a marine biologist can get. Most environmentalist know Bill Payne. He taught me my craft. I need say no more. I'm Harry's boy because he arranged my training each step of the way.”

“Harry saw to it that environmental friendly laws were passed. It's vital to Florida's economy. He isn't running for the senate to add that to his resume. Harry is a man of integrity running to be your senator so he can pass new and better laws to protect Florida from those who would pollute and destroy its natural beauty, like my reef.

“I call it my reef because so few people know its there. Much of my research over the last four years has been done there,” I said.

“We, me and you, along with Harry McCallister, want to preserve the Gulf of Mexico as the pristine body of water we know. I'm here to tell you that reefs like the one I've shared with you are endangered.

“In time, if steps aren't taken to prevent it, many reefs will begin to die. With the introduction of chemicals, petroleum, man himself, the Gulf is in danger. If we don't prevent it, the reef I showed you, and reefs like it will die.”

I signaled for the lights to come down again. Ominous music played dramatically in the background.

The first slide showed the sediment, then the closer shots of the fallen reef and the gray pallor of death. I did not narrate these slides.

A single group moan accompanied the first slide that identified the rubble that was a reef.

There were eight slides. It took only eight to show what was left of my pristine reef. That was plenty.

The audience became restless by the time the last slide was shown and the lights came back up.

People were walking out now. Others needed to know if what they suspected was true. Those people stayed put and waited to find out.

I'd come too far to lie now.

I was on my own. It was no longer about Harry. This was about me. It's about what I did. It was about whether or not I'd continue doing what I did. This was about who I was.

I'd pushed all my chips into the center of the table. It was anyone's guess where I went from here.

The audience was buzzing. No one else walked out on me.

“I didn't show you that to upset you. I used it to make my point.”

“That's what a dead reef looks like,” I said, waiting.

“The death of this reef came suddenly and violently. A slow toxic death results in the same ending. It just takes longer. I couldn't protect the reef where the pictures I showed you were taken. I thought I was protecting it but you see how well that turned out.”

“What happened?” A voice asked. “Who did that?”

“I'm glad you asked. Some men blew it up. They wanted to get to a shipwreck under where the coral had grown. They destroyed the reef and the shipwreck. No treasure,except the one they destroyed.”

A buzz ran through the audience.

People talked to each other.

“I didn't come here tonight to tell you we are winning. We aren't. More pollutants enter the Gulf each day. It's not just Florida, it's going on everywhere,” I said.

“When I speak on behalf of Harry, I tell my story. Harry doesn't know this story. I'm sure he'll find out,” I said.

The audience laughed.

“I may be Harry's man, because he made me what I am. He is in no way responsible for what I presented here tonight. If you have complaints about learning the harsh truth I've told, don't blame him. This is what I had to do, because I am a marine biologist first and Harry's boy second.”

There was a few more laughs.

“I'll close on a positive note. Because of studying this reef for so many years, the information gathered, the thousands of slides taken, specimens collected, this reef will never die. It lives in my studies and it will help marine biologists understand more about life on a reef in the Gulf of Mexico.”

“As a marine biologist, heavy on the biology, I want to tell you that the hummingbird and the grizzly bear are like nothing else on earth. The sand dollar and sea horse may be tiny, hard to find, but they are no less dynamic than the dolphin or the orca. I think I shall never see anything as beautiful as a manatee, but they too are endangered,” I said, thinking about Millie's scar.

“I've shown you a reef at it's peak of vitality and shortly after its death. I don't want to be alive to see the last hummingbird or manatee. Should someone still be alive to see the last of our sea creatures, heaven help them. It's not an earth where I wish to live.

“I leave in your hands. You know what we're up against now. If we all work together, we might save the world. Thank you and Good night.”

*****

I was drained completely.

I'd just done the hardest thing that I'd ever done.

I had screamed.

It remained to be seen if any one heard me.

*****

Ivan jumped up on the stage and hugged me.

“Damn, Captain Olson, you hung it out there tonight. That was wonderful,” Ivan said, hugging me again.

“Far out, Daddy,” Dylan said. “You said you'd have something to say about your reef. You sure did say it.”

Yes, I did.

“Let's get out of here. I'm exhausted,” I said, and we slipped out of the hall together.

It was a long ride home and I didn't have any idea where I went from here.

*****

Chapter 36

Owning the Cove

After leaving Ivan in bed sleeping, I went home to be there when Dylan woke up. He'd begun to sleep soundly through the night and rarely heard me coming or going.

I was glad Dylan and Ivan slept well. I couldn't sleep. My mind was a whirl without the ability to focus on one thing.

I contemplated my retiring as a marine biologist. My passion for my career had waned. At twenty-nine I'd been involved with the Sanibel Island Conservancy almost every day since I was seventeen. I was tired. I was adrift as far as my future was concerned.

Ivan wanted us to work together in his growing enterprises in the cove. He was convinced that tourism was coming our way. People wanted to escape the big city rat race for a peaceful vacation.

Popov gave Ivan his blessing for a charter sport fishing business and for the expansion of the Bait Shop to offer a variety of services and sporting goods. The idea of creating more commerce in the cove was appealing. It was an ambitious undertaking. Ivan had the Bait Shop and twelve slips in the marina. It was hardly an empire.

I had no doubt Ivan would accomplish whatever he set out to do.

I wasn't sure I had anything to contribute to Ivan's plans. I'd been content in my role as a naive protector of the sea. My illusion of protecting the Gulf and things in it had been shattered. The main object in my scientific research had been blown to pieces along with the fantasy that I could protect it.

I not only couldn't stop it. I stood by and watch it happen. That was grotesque. I now knew what it felt like to go impotent. It was startling when I realized I couldn't do anything but run my mouth. It wasn't the first time I had that realization.

It took me two days before I could go back to my laboratory. It was the Monday after Tampa. My plan was to get things in order before anyone else came to work. I needed to file my slides and the notes from the speech I gave Friday night for future Senator Harry McCallister.

One thing I knew for sure, I'd given my last speech. Harry was on his own. I'd given it my all. I was responsible to give Harry more, but there was no more.

I'd get my lab in order and I intended to leave before the regular conservancy staff, including Pop, came to work.

I was twenty-nine. I felt fifty-nine.

*****

After opening the lab, I went to Pop's shop to fix a pot of coffee. I'd left before breakfast and I needed a cup of coffee. Employees didn't arrive until nine. It wasn't quite seven by the time I poured my first cup.

I couldn't sleep and I felt like I was half awake. I'd stopped by the donut shop next to the A&P, but they hadn't opened. I wasn't in the mood to wait to see what time they did open.

I sat with my slides and the 3x5 cards. Each slide was numbered and I knew what the image was. There were dozens of drawers full of slides. I arranged them by the date they were taken. These were copies of slides in those drawers. They'd simply be filed under Tampa. My notes would be filed by date. I'd file the cards by date.

My files ended with the date 8/10/79.

I separated the pictures from my last trip to my reef from the rest. Once I put the rest of the Tampa slides away. I dropped those last eight slides into my trash can. I never wanted to see them again. The record of my reef would stop while it remained a living organism. It was an irrational act to deny the truth on my part.

The death of my reef was personal. I didn't need to share it with whoever came after me. I'd never kept an official record of the reef's location. In time it would be forgotten where the beautiful slides were taken.

After dropping the eight slides into the trash, I spaced out. My mind simply failed to settle on any cohesive thoughts.

My reverie was rudely interrupted by the man I least wanted to face, after the stunt I'd pulled in Tampa.

“Clayton, can you come to my office?” Harry requested.

It wasn't eight o'clock. Harry rarely came to the conservancy before lunchtime. I wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep.

'Uh-oh,' I thought. 'I might not need to retire.'

Harry didn't sound happy. He didn't usually page me. He didn't usually come to work until just before lunch.

It was seven thirty-eight.

I'd done what I came to do.

“Oh well!, time to pay the piper for my temper tantrum.”

I didn't know if Harry stayed for my performance but I felt sure he'd heard about it by now.

*****

Opening the door to his office, I walked in. I was still drained and I didn't need a lecture at this time of day. I sat facing my boss.

“Someone throttle you last night, Clayton? You look like hell,” Harry said.

“I feel like hell.”

“I had four phone calls before I got out of bed this morning. They weren't happy calls.”

“I remember I didn't sleep last night, Harry. I am questioning what good I'm doing. Regarding Tampa Friday night, I told my story. Sorry! It seemed like a good idea at the time. I know it wasn't the place and it certainly wasn't the time. It is what it is.”

“Clayton, I could use a little help here. I'm trying to understand what effectuated your comments Friday night. This isn't like you. I'm to understand the reef you've been studying for years is gone? Everyone who called was babbling about Clayton's reef. I had to leave the house because my phone hasn't stopped ringing since early, and I mean early, Saturday morning.”

“The reef is gone.”

“Oh my God! Just like that?” Harry said. “It isn't there?”

“Isn't there any more.”

“You didn't tell me this why?”

“You're a busy man, Harry. Why bother you with something that's done,” I said.

“Because I care about you? I care about your work. Things that impact you impact me. I'm worried about you, Clay. People are worried about you. You didn't leave your audience laughing.”

“Sorry. I'm not in the mood for this, Harry. I was up late last night. I'm sorry that I picked Friday to vent my disillusionment. Like the reef, what's done is done.”

“You do know that running for senator isn't a local affair, like running for congress? Senatorial races are covered nationally. I'm elected by the people of Florida, but I become a United States Senator.”

Harry tossed a stack of papers onto his desk.

“Death of a Reef, picture on the front page, Tampa Times. It's on page A-3 of the Washington Post, no picture. Page 12 of the New York Times, pictures on the back page. I got a call from Boston, I don't get that paper but the caller is sending five thousand dollars and a request for Clayton to study Boston Harbor's water. My phone hasn't stopped ringing. It would be ringing here, only I unplugged the switchboard.”

“I told the story about the life and death of a reef, Harry. If you read about it, you don't need my version. It wouldn't be objective. I don't want to say something I'm going to regret. Let's do this at some later date.”

“As I said, I left home to get away from the phone. My concern isn't for my campaign. The donations haven't stopped coming in since Saturday. My concerned is for you.”

“I'll be fine, Harry,” I said. “Just not today.”

“I got pledges of $43,000 this morning while I was still in my pajamas.”

“If you're getting donations, why are you upset? I couldn't have upset too many people,” I said. “I vented. I let my anger out on your donors. I didn't pull any punches. I wouldn't do it this morning, but I did do it Friday night.”

“You upset all of them, Clay. Half the money coming in is for you. These are donations for “Clayton Olson's work in the Gulf.” Mosby, father of the Sea Lab, who told me he'd never pony up again after buying us the boat, donated five thousand dollars. “For Clayton's work and five thousand for my campaign.”

“I'm not sure I'm cut out for this, Harry. I'm glad I moved the needle. It was not a labor of love, I assure you. It wasn't easy telling that story but for me to live with myself, it had to be told, Harry. I'm worn out, exhausted. I'm through. I'm cleaning up some things in the lab and then....”

“You're depressed. I understand that.”

“That too. I put a lot of work into that reef and I've said all I plan to say about it. It's gone. I'm done. I've had enough. I've been at this full time since I was seventeen. I'm going on thirty. I've given you what I have, Harry.”

“There are few things in this world as beautiful as that reef, Clay. Anyone with any heart would be depressed by its destruction. Beauty is a rarity. People who would destroy it to make a buck are plentiful. I can't tell you this won't happen again. It will,” Harry said.

“The difference between us and them is that we care. Too few of us care. Fewer yet do anything to make it better. You, Clayton, do something. As painful as it is, you stand between the beauty and those who would destroy it. It's an awesome responsibility.”

“I know how it works, Harry. I've been at this for a long time. I'm tired. I gave all I had. There's nothing left.”

Harry looked at me closely. He didn't speak for a minute or two.

“You should go away. Take a trip. School doesn't start for a few weeks. Take Dylan and go away. Don't even call me to say you're OK. Whatever it costs, it's on me. Don't decide anything until you come back. Do it for me, because I'm asking you to.”

“OK. I'll ask Dylan what he wants to do. Getting away sounds like the right ting at this point. I have money, Harry. You've spent enough on me.”

“I'm going to say something to you I've never said to anyone before. You know the story of my father getting sick and dropping the conservancy into my lap.”

“You mentioned it,” I said.

“It was no picnic. My career was over. I inherited my father's career. I was obligated to carry on for him. I had to find my way around the conservancy. Being Harry McCallister meant I immediately took control, but it was my father's baby,” he said. “We exist because Broadmore was rich and he wanted an environmental conservancy to preserve Sanibel Island and the Gulf of Mexico.”

“I know the story, Harry. You put the conservancy on the map. There's nowhere I go that they haven't heard of us.”

“You left out a small piece of the story. I began hearing about a kid who cared about things that came out of fishing nets. That kid was the son of the man who keeps the lights on here. I had an idea. If I could get a kid like that to train as a marine biologist, and work for us, we could actually conserve something, the Gulf of Mexico,” he said.

“I sit here waiting to go to the senate and tell our story. Your story. I have no story without you, Clay. You are the conservancy now. I need you to help me do what needs to be done. What you want done. I've never needed anyone before. I've risen farther than my father went now, but I need you if we are to accomplish what we set out to do,” Harry said.

“I can't do it alone. I don't know what you know. Take a break. Don't say anything. Take a vacation. Get away completely.”

“OK! I can do that, Harry. I'll get some distance between me and my work. No guarantees. You made me what I am. You paved the way. I couldn't have asked for more, but I'm afraid it's not about you any longer. It's about me. It's about the rest of my life. It'll take time to sort it out.”

“I'll save these,” he said, putting his hand on the papers. “You'll want Dylan to see these. You'll appreciate them one day.”

“Sure, Harry. Right now I'm going to get a donut and go home. Sorry I'm not up to any more campaigning this year. You'll be OK.”

“I'll be fine. I'll be better when you tell me you're fine.”

*****

I went home without the donut. Dylan and Ivan were at the kitchen table polishing off sausage, eggs, and potatoes with onions and green peppers.

“Can I have a plate, Mama. I wasn't that hungry before I got here.”

“Coming right up,” Mama said.

“What happened to you,” Ivan said. “You look like hell.”

“So far that is a unanimous opinion,” I said.

“You look just fine, dear,” Mama said.

“Where do you want to go, Dylan? I'm officially on vacation. I just came from Harry's office.”

“Uh-oh,” Ivan said. “I bet that wasn't any fun.”

“He said to take some time off. I told him I was done at the conservancy.”

“You what?” Mama asked. “It's all you've done, Clay.”

“It's all I'm not doing now. He said to take Dylan on a vacation and take some time off.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ivan said.

“Me? I've never been anywhere but here, Daddy.”

“It's time you went somewhere. If you had a choice of where you want to go, where would it be?”

“We’re going to Disney World, Daddy!”

“Disney World it is. Why didn't I think of that.”

“Can my father go?” Dylan asked.

“Absolutely, your father can go. Want to go to Disney World Ivan?”

“Can't, Captain Popov asked me to come over today,” Ivan said, pouring me more coffee.

“We'll leave tomorrow,” I said.

“Can't, my boat can come any time. I want to be here when it does.”

“You do know school starts in a little more than two weeks?” Mama said.

“We'll be back by then. Even Disney World will get old in a week, Mama. It isn't home and as I recall, they want to advance him to a class better suited to his intellect. Missing a few days won't set him back too far.”

“Can we ride on all the rides, Daddy?” Dylan asked.

“Every one. You can ride until you don't want to ride any more.”

“Cool!” Dylan said. “We're going to live at Disney World.”

I smiled.

*****

When I drove to Ivan's the next morning before we left, he tossed me the keys to his new Buick.

“Love to go with you guys, but my boat is due any day and I'm trying to get the Bait Shop clean after years of neglect. I've got Taggart to help me until school starts. He's a senior. He can only help when he isn't in school.”

“I wish you could go. I've seen you every day since you came home, Daddy-O. I'll miss you,” Dylan said.

“It's not like we can't go back to Disney World. In fact, you scope out the neato rides and it'll save us a lot of time when I go along,” Ivan said. “You guys have fun. I'll be here working my fingers to the bone.”

“Cool,” Dylan said. “It'll keep you off the street.”

“Keys are in the Chevy,” I said. “Thanks for the loaner.”

“Keep it under 80,” Ivan said. “Tickets get expensive above that.”

*****

Driving the Buick was like entering a time warp. It had power everything. Even the seat went in all directions at the touch of a finger. It was a smooth ride. With the top down it was a vacation just driving to Orlando.

Keeping up with Dylan was no easy feat. He was quick as a cat. No sooner did we get off one ride and we were racing to the next.

“The faster we go, the more rides we can get on, Daddy,” Dylan explained.

Walt Disney certainly understood how to entertain children. At the end of each day we were both worn out and didn't have energy to go to dinner.

We stayed until the morning before school started. Dylan wanted a few more days, but I needed some rest from our vacation.

*****

Dylan wasn't done being entertained. As soon as he walked into the kitchen, a new schedule developed.

“Oh my God! You can't go to school looking like that. He needs a haircut, Clay, and you can't wear sneakers to school. We'll stop and get a new pair of shoes for school. I better get him some shirts and slacks. He's grown since school let out. Nothing will fit him from last year.”

Dylan looked at me hoping for rescue, but Mana had her apron off and Dylan by the arm.

“Good luck, Dylan. Looks like the rest of the day is planned.”

*****

Both Dylan and I were dragging by dinner time.

Ivan wasn't at dinner. Mama said he'd been gone almost all week. The only thing he said was he was working on the Bait Shop and Tag wouldn't have as much time to contribute once school started.”

At the end of the day, when I went upstairs to read to Dylan, my son had passed out.

We hadn't stopped moving for nearly two weeks. I lay on my bed with the book in my hand.

*****

“Clay, Mama wants to know if you're going to eat before taking Dylan to school?”

“No, I'll eat when I come back. I'm ready,” I said, still having on my clothes from the day before. “Is Dylan up?”

“He's in the kitchen. He tried to wake you up an hour ago.”

“Guess I was tired,” I said, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Thanks, Luce.”

*****

“You going to work, Clay?” Mama asked.

“No,” I said.

Mama gave me one of her looks of concern. I could see the worry etched into her brow. There was nothing I could do to help.

I walked up to Ivan's, but he wasn't there. I sat on the deck outside his bedroom and watched the blue green waters spread out forever in front of me. I watched the birds come and go from the logs.

I believed Ivan needed a break too. We'd been together since April, but he was developing his plan for a future in the cove. We hadn't been separated for long since he'd come back to our beach.

Ivan did want to take people charter fishing and it sounded like the boat was on the way. All he needed were people who wanted to go sport fishing. Whatever Ivan wanted to do was fine with me.

The closer he did it to me the better I liked it.

Once Ivan knew that I was questioning my career as a marine biologist, he offered to buy me a boat and we'd run two charter fishing boats. If there wasn't enough business for two boats at first, I could teach SCUBA diving and take divers out on dives.

If tourists began coming to the cove, they could fish one day and dive the second day. I wasn't ready to decide my future yet and we agreed to let the dust settle before I made any long range plans.

I once loved fishing. I could learn to love it again. It's where I got my start on the Gulf.

The Chevy was parked at the marina. The keys were in it. I parked the Buick beside it and walked onto the pier. I didn't walk as far down as Mr. Aleksa's boat. That was too far and too close to Sea Lab. I saw it looming in its slip, towering over the other boats.

I wasn't interested in seeing it up close.

I turned to go back to the Chevy. I'd leave Ivan's keys in the Buick. As I reached the stairs, I saw activity around the Bait Shop.

I walked over. The windows were clean. A neon sign in the window advertised, 'SCUBA tanks Filled.'

I opened the door and walked in.

Ivan had his back to me. He was arranging a display with SCUBA gear. He turned to look at me.

“Yes, sir, may we help you?”

He had his shirt off. His muscular chest glistened, although it wasn't hot inside. I traced his muscular lines with my eyes. He watched me as I looked my man over.

“Wondering if you guys were coming back.”

“Where's Pete?” I asked.

“Popov's man. He wouldn't work for me. Actually, he wouldn't work. Hey Tag, I'm thirsty. Bring me a soda, and don't take all day.”

I stepped back, stunned by what Ivan said.

“Yes, sir, boss. I's gettin' it. I be coming.”

Taggart raced into view like he was on a mission.

“Here you goes, boss. You best be taking a break. You be sweating and everything,” Taggart said, fussing around Ivan, wiping the sweat off him in a way that made me seriously uncomfortable.

“You cut it out and get back to work. You'll do anything to keep from working. You're all alike, shiftless and lazy.”

My mouth dropped open.

“I's a going. I's a going,” Taggart said obediently.

“Taggart, have you lost your mind,” I said.

Both of them became hysterical. They laughed and laughed. Taggart stood by Ivan with his arm over Ivan's shoulder.

“I told Ivan we could get you going,” Taggart said.

“You sure did. You over acted or I'd have bought it hook, line, and sinker.”

They laughed again.

“This doesn't look like the same place, Ivan. It's clean,” I said.

“Come with me. I've got something to show you.”

We went outside and around back, walking to where some black plastic covered something leaning against the back wall.

With a flourish Ivan revealed a neon sign.

'Cove Dive, Surf, & Bait Shop.'

Taggart is hooking up the compressor to fill air tanks. Boy's a whiz with stuff like that. He'll come twice a week and fill tanks.”

“That's a great sign,” I said.

“I'm advertising. We have coverage in the county papers and in the Vacation Times. We are the sleepy village with deep sea fishing, diving, and boat slips for rent.”

“Slips?”

“We're going to add twelve slips for the new business. Double the size of the marina.”

“You've got big plans,” I said, as we walked around front.

A man carry air tanks walked up from the dock.

“Your sign says you fill air tanks?” a rather substantial man asked.

I wasn't certain how he got all that mass under water/

“Sure do. Take them inside. I'll be there in a minute,” Ivan said.

“It's nice, Ivan. I like it. You have a customer.”

“Let me go make some money so we can buy a boat for you.”

“Yes, sir, you need both tanks filled?”

“That would be my guess,” he said with no humor in his words.

“Tag, we have a customer. Can we fill this man's tanks?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Taggart said, coming out to get the tanks. “I have that compressor running like a top.”

As Taggart reached for the tanks, the man moved his leg in the way of Taggart's hand.

“You can't fill them for me?” He asked Ivan, ignoring Taggart.

“Well, yes, I can, but I pay Tag here good money to fill tanks.”

“I want to be sure I have air in them when I go into the water. You fill my tanks,” the man more ordered than asked.

“What's wrong? Taggart too tan for your taste?” Ivan said, moving to within a foot of the man.

“I'd feel more comfortable if you fill them.”

“you want a white man's hands to pump air into your tanks? I'll tell you what, this is the man who fills air tank. You want your tanks filled, he fills them,” Ivan said succinctly.

“Is the owner around? I want to speak to the owner,” the man said.

“Owner? Owner! He was here a minute ago. Oh, I'm the owner. Yes, may I help you, sir. Do you wish to place a complaint about the color of my help? I'm afraid that's the only color he comes in. Palmer's! Eight miles that a way. They fill tanks. They're very white. You'll like their air.”

“I have a slip here. I'd expect a little more courtesy,” the man complained.

“You have a slip here? Funny thing about that. We're about to do construction. The last two slips will need to be empty. I'm expanding.”

“You can't do that,” he said. “I didn't rent from you.”

“You're renting from me now, but you're in luck. Palmer's! Eight miles that way. They have slips. I'll give you a full refund of course,” Ivan said.

Ivan removed his wallet, counting out thirty dollars, stuffing it in the man's shirt pocket.

“You can't do that.”

“I just did. Palmer's! Eight miles that way by road or by water,” Ivan said pointing south as the man turned red .

Grabbing the tanks, he swung open the door.

Looking back, he said, “You have no idea who you're fucking with.”

“Yes, I do,” Ivan said happily. “You're the bigot who doesn't have a slip for his boat.”

The air lightened considerably once the unpleasant man left.

“Tag, you cost me any more customers and I won't be able to afford to pay you,” Ivan said with a smile.

“That's OK, boss. You don't need to pay me. I'll work for you for the entertainment value. Thanks, Ivan. That was nice.”

*****

We were all at dinner that night. Dylan was dragging from a hard first day of school. Ivan was delighted about getting the doors to the Bait Shop open. They were coming to hang the sign the next day.

“Harry was asking about you, Clay,” Pop said. “You going to talk to him? He's worried about you.”

“I'm not ready to talk yet, Pop. I don't know what I want to do.”

“Seems to me you've done pretty well working for the man,” Pop said.

“Seems to me that I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I haven't decided what I'm going to do. I don't want to waste his time.”

“You need to call the man,” Pop said and we left it there.

*****

Later, after Dylan went upstairs, I asked Ivan if we could go for a ride in the Buick with the top down.

“What are you going to do, babe?” Ivan asked. “I still have some openings on my staff if you're interested.”

“Beats me. You have any suggestions.”

“I've got one boat to take out charters. I can order another one. It only took three months to get that one,” Ivan said. “Christmas is coming. I could give you the boat for Christmas.”

“Christmas is in December,” I said.

“Yes, it is,” Ivan said.

“It's the first week in September,” I said.

“Gives me time to find the right boat.”

“You bought the Bait Shop. You bought the marina. You've bought a boat for charters fishing, and boats don't come cheap. You can afford another boat?”

“In a word, No, but I'm a man with means. I can borrow the down payment. Popov is all in on my plans. He'll lend me what I need if the boat is for you.”

“I'm not ready to decide anything right now. You've spent a lot of money getting a foothold in the cove,” I said. “What did you do to earn so much money?”

“I told you, I was a listener. Governments came and went while I listened. What I heard helped some of them go. There's a bonus any time my people got an outcome they wanted. Your money is also part of what bought this empire in the cove. You own a thriving business right on the beach to boot,” Ivan said.

“Beach?” I said. “A boat ramp and a parking lot that was created by the fish warehouse dumping it's oyster shells there doesn't qualify as a beach.”

“I admit it takes imagination to see it,” Ivan said.

“I know if you set out to do something, it usually gets done. I'm sure you'll succeed in the cove,” I said.

*****

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The marina,” he said.

“It's getting dark. You aren't going to work?” I said.

“I have something to show you.”

He pulled into the parking lot at the marina next to the boat ramp.

“You see Popov's boat?”

“Yes,” I said.

Look to the right. That shiny new boat with the two red marker lights on it.

“I see it.”

“That's our first boat.”

“It's big,” I said.

Ivan kissed me and hugged me to him.

“It's just the beginning, babe. We can do anything you want to do. We can become whatever you want to become. We'll do it together,” Ivan told me.

We sat holding hands and watching the final minutes of the sun setting on the cove. It was quite lovely.

“You carried the load for long enough, hot stuff. Take your time deciding where you want to go from here. I'll furnish the money to keep things moving.”

“We need to head back to the house. Dylan will be waiting for me to read before he goes to bed.”

“He loves that,” Ivan said.

“I look forward to it too. It's a time I can depend on to be peaceful and relaxing,” I said.

*****

“Where is junior?” Ivan asked, after we came into my bedroom after coming up the stairs at the side of the house.

We went together to the door between Dylan's bedroom and mine,expecting to find him reading . Dylan was face down on his bed with one arm around his teddy bear. He was sound asleep.

“He keeps growing like he is and I'm going to need to buy him a bigger bed or a bed for that damn bear. You sure hit a home run with that gift, Ivan.”

“When I saw those bears, I knew whose names were on them.”

“Disney World wore him out,” I said. “He's still dragging. We did not stop from the time we left here until we got home.”

“I'm sure the first day of school didn't help,” Ivan said. “We need to close this door so we don't disturb our kid, honey bun.”

Ivan gently close the door. He turned to face me.

I found myself moving backward, until i was lying on the bed with Ivan on top of me.

The kisses were sweet and plentiful. They lingered as our bodies commingled.

I may not have known much, but I knew that I loved Ivan as much as I was capable of loving anyone.

If I didn't know I loved Ivan as completely as I could before, I might think I loved him even more now.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Ivan asked.

“Do tell,” I said. “Haven't I seen you around these parts before, sailor?”

“You have. I've admired you for some time. I'd like to show you how much.”

“I just happen to have tonight open, sailor,” I said.

“I love you, babe,” he said.

Life was good.

The End

---

Postscript

Later that night:

“You OK, babe? I'm worried about you,” Ivan said, one big arm around me as his face stared into my face.

“You remember when you came back to stay and I told you I didn't trust you.”

“Hard thing to forget, Clay. I'm doing my best.”

“I know you are and I've never been prouder of you than I was today at the Cove Dive, Surf, & Bait Shop. You're a good man, Ivan Aleksa. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone.”

“I did what came natural. Tag works for me. If your employer won't stand up for you, you don't have much of a job.”

“You did it magnificently and that's why I love you so much,” I said, and our lips caressed.

Ivan pulled back a few inches.

“I know this isn't an easy time for you and I've told you that whatever you want, I'll make it happen. We can bring a new vitality to the cove and provide jobs for people who fall in love with the place.

“The thing is, when I first came back to you, the things we did, the three of us, were so much fun. It was a great homecoming.”

“I was happy. I had the two people I love most with me.”

“And it was good. The sparkle in your eye, the joy you took from the activities was a testimony to the love you have for what you do. You shared it with us. You've never been more radiant,” he said.

“I saw your slides. I heard you soaring as you told about your reef. You fell to earth at the end. Everyone saw it. Everyone felt your broken heart, Clay,” Ivan said softly.

“I can't do anything to bring back your reef. If I could I would. It's gone. There is a lot more to saving the Gulf than one reef. You have the knowledge and the ability to help people understand how important it is to save the Gulf,” he said.

“Save the Gulf and other bodies of water are saved. You don't work in isolation. Everything you do, everything you've done, has a greater value than all the money we'll make in the cove. Tell me what you want to do, I'll help you do it,” Ivan said.

“But you have a gift, Clay. In the ten years I've been gone you've achieved stature as a major force among marine biologist. That couldn't be easy to do. You need to think about what you're giving up. I'm asking you to think about that. Nothing we do in the cove is as important as what you've done in the Gulf.”

He kissed me gently.

“I will,” I said, kissing him back.

What I knew, I was going to love Ivan and our son forever.

 What I didn't know, what direction my life went in from here.