MORE THAN THE MOON Page 13

  That suited Dirk just fine. He struggled just to remove his sweater and jeans. It would have been next to impossible to pull on swim trunks.

  He beat Alma there and sunk into the blissfully hot water with a sigh of content. He stretched his hand gently underwater, wincing at the effort of moving disjointed, stiff bones. Sinking deeper, he tested his shoulder. The warmth only afforded him a couple extra inches of mobility. He was resting neck deep against the side of the tub with his eyes closed when Alma slipped silently into the water and settled next to him, a hand splayed across his thigh.

  “Hmm,” he hummed without opening his eyes.

  “This water is much warmer than our most recent dip.”

  Her smooth voice split the silence pleasantly.

  “Much!” he replied.

  Her fingers crawled up his thigh.

  “I don’t know how much good I’ll be.” He met her eyes. They were filled with a hunger that, in his experience, only followed desperate situations.

  “You don’t have to lift a finger,” she promised through the steam.

  * * *

  “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner?” Alma asked when they pulled up outside Dirk’s apartment.

  “Yep. Seven o’clock, brewery of your choice!” He pecked her cheek, gathered his bag, and stepped onto the sidewalk to watch her drive away.

  The car seemed suddenly empty and lonely. Alma’s hand was still warm with the memory of their grip across the console all the way from Cape Cod.

  * * *

  He hung up with a frown. His fingers tapped the surface of his desk absently for a few minutes. Regrettably, he dialed the phone again.

  “Hey,” he greeted.

  “Hey! Ready for some beer?” Alma greeted enthusiastically.

  “Actually, I’m going to have to beg a rain check.”

  “Is everything okay?” Her mind leapt instantly to his hand and shoulder and hoped their exploits hadn’t created complications.

  He read her concerns with a gentle smile. “I’m fine,” he promised intuitively. “My mother is coming to town to see me.”

  “Oh. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t discuss his mother often, but she got the idea they weren’t in close touch.

  “Yes. Yes, it is. How about coffee Saturday morning?”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  They hung up and Dirk found his fingers playing contemplatively across the desk again.

  Chapter 18

  The pint glass was three quarters empty by the time Dirk’s thoughts were interrupted.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  The gray streaks in her brown hair were new, but the tardy arrival was not. Sara Travers-Elliot was shorter than her son, but trim with the same defined facial features. She was dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeved western shirt, despite the warm New England day.

  Dirk stood to hug her and they sat down.

  “It’s good to see you, Dirk.” She had warm blue eyes and a gentle, tired smile.

  “I admit, I’m surprised you called. What brings you to Boston?”

  A frown creased lines in her face that he didn’t remember. She extracted a manila folder from the shoulder bag hanging from the chair back. Her calloused, wrinkled hands folded over the top of it.

  “There was an accident at the store three months ago. Chris was crushed by a delivery truck.”

  Dirk absorbed the information silently.

  “I don’t expect you to be upset. I know you didn’t like him. But I loved him.” Her voice cracked and she looked down at her hands.

  “’Didn’t like him’?” he scoffed. He ran a hand across his cheek as if he could still feel the right hook Chris had dealt him fifteen years ago. He shook his head and set his personal opinion aside. “I’m sorry.”

  Sara shook her head. “I’m struggling with what to do now.”

  “It’s pretty clear, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve done this before.”

  She raised a brow in confusion.

  “Well, now you find another well-to-do bachelor, the sooner the better, and move on.” His words were sharp and boiled with old pain and anger.

  “That’s not fair,” Sara said in a low voice. She fixed her son with a dangerous stare, one he knew well from childhood.

  He frowned and sat back to finish his beer.

  Sara took a deep, calming breath. “I’ve started getting my affairs in order.” She tapped the folder. “I need you to sign some things.”

  “Why? Shouldn’t Dale and Michael get everything?” He couldn’t even remember what her two stepsons looked like, nor did he care to.

  “They’ll get their father’s portion. But I want everything from your dad and I to go to you.”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  Sara scowled. He’d always been stubborn. “I know that. I’m very proud of how you’ve taken care of yourself. But I want you to have it. It’s not much.” She pushed the folder and a pen across the table. “Please.”

  Still frowning, Dirk set aside the empty glass, flipped the cover open and signed by all the highlighted tabs. Then he snapped the folder shut and slid it back. Sara replaced it in her bag and placed her elbows on the table, fingers steepled together. She examined her son slowly.

  “Let’s start over, okay? How are you, Dirk?”

  He considered the question briefly, thinking of his difficult, yet rewarding career and the beautiful woman he’d spent the last week with. His lips curled in a gentle smile. “I’m good.”

  The expression brought an identical smile to her face. “Is there a girl?”

  The roll of his eyes betrayed his answer.

  “Can I meet her? Is it serious?”

  He hadn’t considered their relationship in terms of seriousness. It certainly felt serious when his heart stopped as the fisherman waved a gun haphazardly at her and when her eyes met his and energy flowed effortlessly between them. He chose to ignore the question for now. “We’re having coffee tomorrow morning. Meet me at my apartment.”

  She smiled. “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  Alma was reading with her legs folded up onto the chair. She glanced up as if she could feel Dirk’s presence as he entered the café. Her bright smile turned to confusion when she noticed the older woman at his side and she unfolded her legs to stand.

  “I’m Sara,” the woman introduced before her son could. “Dirk’s mother.”

  “Alma.”

  They shook hands while Dirk pulled over a third chair.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked Sara as she sat across the table from Alma.

  “A latte, please.”

  “Alma?”

  “I’m okay.” She motioned to her mug of black liquid.

  He brushed a hand over her shoulder as he walked past and she smiled.

  “Alma. That’s an unusual name,” Sara mused. “But pretty.”

  “Thank you. Dirk mentioned you were visiting. Is your husband travelling with you?”

  Sara sighed. “He passed away three months ago.”

  “I’m so sorry! Dirk didn’t-”

  “He didn’t know until last night. What do you do, Alma?”

  “I’m a professor of Marine Biology at Boston University.”

  “Oh!” ‘Smart and pretty,’ she thought appraisingly.

  Dirk returned with two drinks and sat next to Alma to place a hand on her knee.

  “He’s told me you have step-kids?” She was trying to remember anything Dirk had said about his mother, but he spoke of her so rarely, there wasn’t much material to draw on.

  “Two step-sons. Dale lives in Nebraska with his wife. And Michael and his wife just had my first grandchild.” She produced a phone and showed them pictures of tiny baby girl.

  Alma made the obligatory ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’, but Dirk lounged back in his chair, uninterested.

  They made small talk for a while, mostly without Dirk’s participation.

  Finally, Sara l
ooked at the time on her phone. “I better get to the airport. I’m moving to California with Michael to help take care of the baby. I’ve still got some things to wrap up in Montana. It was nice to meet you, Alma. It’s nice to see Dirk happy.” Her smile was that of a sad mother wishing things had turned out differently with her son.

  “Let me drive you to the airport,” Dirk offered. He kissed Alma on the cheek. “Dinner at my place tonight?”

  “I’ll bring the wine.”

  * * *

  Alma stepped out of a cab just as Dirk rounded the corner at a jog. She met him at the door, where he slowed to a walk and placed his hands on his hips, breathing hard. She stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the lips.

  “Good run?”

  Sweat dripped down his face and soaked a gray MIT T-shirt. “Yeah. Helped clear my mind.” He held the door for her and they walked upstairs together.

  “You really don’t enjoy your mom’s company, huh?”

  He shrugged, but when she stared expectantly all the way to the next landing, he added, “She made some choices I didn’t support.”

  “Well, if that’s not cryptic,” she said sarcastically.

  Dirk laughed and unlocked the apartment door. “Let me shower and I’ll regale you with tales of Montana.”

  While he was gone, she opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Then she entertained herself by perusing the worldly snapshots adorning the walls. Dirk’s return interrupted musings about Saint Mark’s Basilica in Venice. He was barefoot in jeans and was just shrugging on a fresh T-shirt. She felt guilty for appreciating the shoulder injury that slowed his efforts and allowed her a few moments more to gaze at his flexing muscles and smooth skin. Clearing her throat, she met him at the couch with wine glasses in hand.

  “We were talking about your mom,” Alma reminded him.

  “Ah, yes. We may need more wine,” he joked and took a gulp of dark red wine. “Where to start?” he mused quietly. “Sorry. I don’t talk about my family very often.”

  “I’ve noticed.” She offered him a patient smile and folded herself onto the couch.

  “My father died when I was sixteen. By the time I graduated high school two years later my mom was already remarried to Chris Elliot. He had two young sons of his own. I’m not sure what happened to their mother. I wouldn’t blame her if she left them.” He winced. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.” He sighed and took another drink. “To be fair, I was a teenager and definitely jaded by my father’s death. Chris may have been perfect for my mother at the time, but he was a monster to me. I think, in retrospect, he may have been jealous of me.”

  Alma listened intently and her brows rose, silently begging for clarification.

  “I look a lot like my father.”

  “Do you have a picture?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any pictures from your childhood?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not even a yearbook?”

  He smiled at her persistence. “Nope.”

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation. He laughed and scooted to the center of the couch and placed a hand on her bare calf.

  “Chris knew my dad. He owned the feed store in town where we bought our winter grain. I think he was jealous that I reminded my mom so much of my father. We bumped heads constantly. At least until his fist bumped my face.”

  Alma couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her in surprise. “He hit you?”

  “We were arguing one night and he reeled back and punched me. I packed a bag that night and never looked back.”

  “Wow.” She sipped her drink in silence.

  Dirk wasn’t sure what reaction he’d expected, but found that this silent, contemplative, un-dramatic response was perfect. He squeezed her leg in appreciation.

  “Do you get along with your step-brothers?”

  “They’re ten or so years younger than I, so not really.” He laughed softly. “In fact, I’d practically forgotten their names until my mom was talking with you.”

  “She seemed pretty attached to them. Dale-this and Michael-that. And jeez, Dirk, why haven’t you gotten hitched and popped out some grandkids by now?” she teased sarcastically.

  He laughed and tossed a pillow at her, which she dodged easily. “Are your parents eagerly awaiting a son-in-law and grandkids?”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure they are, but we don’t talk about it. They probably realize a nerdy college professor is probably tough out of luck if she’s not hitched by now. They’re resigned to their daughter’s fate as a spinster.”

  “Ha! Yeah right! Some poor fella just as geeky as you will come along.”

  “Yeah? One who’s a history dork? And likes Broadway musicals? I mean, musicals! Seriously!”

  “Yeah, a guy like that might come along.” His voice had dropped an octave. He stared at her, curled onto the couch, barefoot, smiling and laughing and suddenly all jests fell from his tongue.

  His studious gaze stole Alma’s breath. “I think I might like a guy like that,” she replied, just above a whisper.

  Chapter 19

  Text Message

  Meet at my place. 10:00 am tomorrow. Bring coffee. Dress for adventure.

  Dirk Travers

  Alma stared at the text for a long curious moment. ‘Dress for adventure,’ she thought in amusement.

  She arrived at the brick apartment building precisely at 10:00, two paper cups in hand, and dressed in tennis shoes, shorts, and a tank top that read Run Now, Wine Later. A pair of purple sunglasses perched on her head.

  “Classy shirt,” Dirk greeted sarcastically. He’d been leaning against the building, waiting.

  “Keep it up and I’ll drink both of these coffees! I’ve been working on my latest article and could use some extra caffeine!”

  He raised his arms innocently and apologized with a kiss to the cheek. Alma handed over a cup of coffee and looked him up and down. She’d never seen him dressed quite so casually. A pair of Chacos adorned his feet and she followed his muscular legs up to khaki cargo pants and a sleeveless gray T-shirt.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked, falling in step as they walked down the block.

  “This.” With a grand wave, he motioned to his Jeep, which was parked on the side of the building. The rack on top was filled with two polyethylene kayaks.

  “You got another kayak!” Alma exclaimed.

  He reached in the open window and tossed her a battered baseball cap with the Boston Red Sox emblem printed about the brim.

  “Gee,” she muttered less enthusiastically. “A boat and a beat up old hat. How will I ever repay you?”

  Dirk rolled his eyes, slapped an equally weathered University of Montana cap on his head, and got behind the wheel.

  Alma climbed in beside him. While he wove through the city streets, she weaved her long ponytail through the strap and pulled the cap tight. Smiling, she took Dirk’s hand across the console, interweaving their fingers.

  “This has been a great summer,” she muttered as the cross-breeze played through the cab.

  With a squeeze of her hand, he agreed. “Which makes what I have to tell you much more difficult.”

  Alma raised a brow.

  “I’ll admit, the kayak and this trip are a little bit of a peace offering.”

  Her perplexity did not fade.

  “I’m leaving for work tomorrow. I may be gone for a few months.”

  “A few months?” To her credit, she only frowned for a moment. “Then we’ll have to make the best of today!” she insisted cheerfully.

  Her upbeat attitude brought a smile to Dirk’s lips and he squeezed her hand tightly, committing the moment to memory.

  It was nearly sunset when they wrestled the watercraft upstairs to Dirk’s apartment to hang from the lofted ceiling. Alma collapsed onto the couch, skin pleasantly salty and a touch sunburned.

  “I’m exhausted and sore.” Her shoulders and back ached from hours of athletic rowing on the Charles River. She watched Dirk spla
sh whiskey into an ice-filled tumbler. He felt her gaze, shot her a knowing smile and passed the drink over the back of the couch. “How’s your shoulder?”

  He rotated it experimentally as he sat down next to her. “A little sore.” It was more than a little sore, but definitely on the mend. It had been weeks since the injury and rowing was as good as any physical therapy.

  “Do you want to go out for dinner?” he asked after they’d relaxed for a moment. The hesitation answered his question. “Pizza and movie, then?”

  Alma leaned her head against his warm, firm shoulder. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  Chapter 20

  It wasn’t until a week later that Dirk’s absence became noticeable. Between university pre-term meetings and putting the finishing touches on her latest article, she’d been busy throughout the week. But Saturday morning found Alma in bed, staring at the opposite pillow, wondering what to do with her day. Since she’d returned from Washington, no more than three or four days had passed without some sort of contact with Dirk, usually dinner or coffee, but often an adventure to somewhere new.

  The first, most obvious choice was to walk to the Lighthouse Café and read the day away. But the destination seemed suddenly empty without the chair across from her filled with Dirk and his fictional history stories.

  Ideas of weekend activities gave way to week-old memories. Alma lay on her back, Dirk’s arm draped over her. The gentle rise and fall of his chest and whisper quiet breaths proclaimed his slumber. Despite a cleansing shower, her skin felt hot and dry with salt and mild sunburn from the day’s kayaking. The cool sheets of Dirk’s bed eased the burn and his embrace was comfortable. There was no reason she should lie awake in the dark hours of the night after such an adventurous day. Dirk’s warm breath played on her bare shoulder.

  “I love you,” she whispered suddenly, surprising even herself. But after a moment, the surprise faded and satisfaction with the statement settled in.

  “I love you, too,” Dirk breathed. It was so quiet and vague, Alma was certain he was asleep.

  Her certainty swayed when he turned to face her at the airport the next morning. Without a word, he placed a hand on her neck, cupping her cheek and running a thumb along her jaw. The jade-gaze blazing in his eyes reiterated the breathy words of the night and the passionate kiss that followed echoed the sentiment.