“If the fish eat the plastic and we eat the fish…”
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “We’ve documented that even the deepest-dwelling marine organisms have plastic in their stomachs.” He sighed. “It’s a concern.”
She hid her smile. Gordon, like most scientists she’d met, was a master of understatement. Linnea thrilled to his intellect and his hands-on knowledge of what was really happening in the environmental world they both cared so much about. She leaned forward a bit, absorbed by what he was telling her.
“Anyway,” Gordon said in a tone that implied he didn’t want to talk about work anymore, “that’s what’s happening here on our coast. Tell me what’s going on in your life on the beautiful Isle of Palms. I want to hear that the sun is shining and it’s warm.”
She laughed. “Sorry. It’s not much different here. Chilly and blustery.”
“Bugger.”
“My thoughts exactly. But it should turn by the weekend. Sunny skies on the way.”
“Bliss. Go on, tell me more.”
“Well,” she said, puffing out a plume of air. She set the tea mug back on her nightstand. “How long has it been since we talked. Three weeks?”
“Sorry. This virus has thrown a spanner in the works. I was closing up shop at the university when the opportunity to join this project came up. No one expected me to be free.”
“That’s a great opportunity, Gordon. I understand. Truly.”
“And I’ve been on a boat the past week. No reception.”
“Do you get seasick?”
He shook his head. “I’m one of the lucky ones. But there were some days out there when the sea got pretty choppy.”
“I’d die. I get so seasick on choppy water.”
“Enough about bad weather. I have plenty of that. Tell me what’s new,” Gordon prodded. “I want to hear every tiny detail.”
Linnea leaned back against the pillow. Luna seized the opportunity to climb up her chest and begin licking her face.
“Well, that’s something new,” Gordon said, leaning forward to peer into the phone. “When did you get a dog? And tell it to stop licking your face. That’s my job.”
“Try telling Luna that,” she said with a laugh, moving the puppy to her side. Pushing back a fallen lock of hair, she began telling him about all that had transpired the previous few weeks.
“And I thought I was busy,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear David was sick. Was it coronavirus?”
“We don’t know for sure, but he had all the symptoms.”
“We don’t know much about it, so Cara is smart to take care with Hope.” He swirled his drink and asked, “How was it being a nanny?”
“Whatever they’re paid, it’s not enough,” she quipped. She heard him laugh and it made her feel lighter inside. This was what she was hoping for tonight. “It’s so hard. You never really get a break. And, for the record, I was more than a nanny—I was the stand-in mommy. We’re talking twenty-four/seven. Tears, histrionics, food fights, defiance… I survived it all. And I love Hope! Imagine if I didn’t.” She shook her head. “The puppy was my prize at the end.”
“Do you think so?” he asked doubtfully. “Have you ever had a puppy before? They can be a lot of work. Like a baby with a tail. How did you end up keeping the dog?”
She laughed, thinking how spot-on he was. “Turns out Hope is allergic. So, lucky me, I got to keep Luna. I’m besotted. She’s the sweetest dog. You’re going to love her.” She paused and said more seriously, “But children? It was an eye-opener. Honestly, there were days I didn’t think I ever wanted to have children.”
“But you do?” he asked, a subtle shift in his tone. “Want to have children.”
She suddenly felt her humor slip away. She’d been gabbing away with lighthearted banter, and suddenly there was this serious question. “Uh, sure. I guess. Someday.” She took a breath. “Do you?”
“Yes. Absolutely. An army of them. Six boys and three girls.”
“What?” She laughed, hoping he was joking. “Boyfriend, you are barking up the wrong tree.”
He laughed. “I love your American sayings. So vivid. Well, then, I’d settle for an heir and a spare.”
“Much more reasonable,” she said, glad to have tiptoed past that subject. “I was fortunate to have some help. There were times I was at my wits’ end. Cara couldn’t even come by to visit, and poor Hope was so homesick. But John’s been great.” The moment she said the words, she knew she’d made a mistake. Gordon’s eyes sharpened and he had that worried furrow in his brow. She wished she could take the words back.
“John? John who?”
She cringed. Linnea tried to make her voice sound casual. “John Peterson.”
His brow rose even as his voice lowered. “Ah. Your old boyfriend John Peterson?”
“Yes,” she answered as though it were nothing. “He was visiting his mother—she lives next door,” she reminded him.
“I remember. And you just… ran into him?”
“Well, sort of. When he arrived, he learned that a colleague of his tested positive for the virus. So rather than try to fly back to California, he went up into the carriage house and straight into quarantine.”
Gordon mulled this over, while Linnea stroked Luna’s soft coat.
“So, if he was up in the carriage house in quarantine,” Gordon began, “how was it he was such a help?”
Linnea curled her toes in tension. “Paper airplanes,” she replied with a light laugh.
Gordon didn’t laugh. She watched him reach out and grab his glass, filled with a brown liquid she was quite sure was scotch. He took a long sip. “How’s that?”
“Oh, Gordon, it’s a long story.”
“I have a lot of time.”
She took a breath and forced a smile. “Oh, it’s all very innocent. John saw Hope and me from that tall window up on the second floor, you remember…”
“Yes. Moroccan. Exotic. I remember. Go on.”
“Well, he saw us, whistled, and when we looked up, he flew a paper airplane down to Hope. She was enchanted. It’s hard to believe she’d never seen a paper airplane before. Another generation.” She laughed and thought it sounded too high. “She started sending him notes, and he sent notes back, then little gifts. It went on for a while. It was very sweet and totally distracted Hope from being homesick.” She smiled. “See? Paper airplanes.”
“Ask him how he is at origami. Now, that takes talent.”
She laughed. “It was very nice of him.”
“Is he well now? From the virus?”
“He never contracted it, thank heavens. Or if he did, he was a silent carrier. But the quarantine is over.”
“Oh, good. Glad to hear it. Hallelujah.” He took another sip.
Linnea reached for her cup of tea, wishing now it was a glass of wine.
“So, now that he’s cheered everybody up with his paper airplanes, is he still there or did he go back to California?”
“No, he’s still here.”