Chapter One
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I yell into Andi’s ear. Jostled by the heaving, Friday-night Seattle bar crowd, bass vibrating in my chest, I bump into Andi and slop my overpriced Manhattan on my skirt. The couple dancing in front of me are grinding on each other’s thighs.
“Isn’t it great?!” she yells back. “I love all this energy!” She sways back and forth, sipping from her drink as neon bands of purple, pink, and orange flash across her silver hair. Closing her eyes, she shifts from swaying to bouncing. I watch, mystified as to how she’s able to keep every drop of her gin and tonic in her glass.
Someone pushes into me again, but this time I’m prepared and shift to the side. Protecting my drink, I turn to see who’s run into me.
“Shorry…,” he slurs. I wonder if I’m getting to the age where everyone in their twenties looks like babies. “Wanna dance, Grandma?” He laughs at his own joke, then stumbles toward the bar, ricocheting off people as he goes. At first irritated, I laugh as I realize I wouldn’t take all the land in my home state of Texas to be in my twenties again.
Now Andi’s in the middle of a pulsating conflagration—sweat-slicked skin, tattoos on arms and hands and bellies, laughter and smiles and the smell of sweat and cocktails. I gulp the rest of my drink, enjoying the burn as it goes down my throat, then wade into the mass of bodies.
“Andi! I’m going to Uber back to the hotel.”
She opens her eyes and moves closer to me, yelling in my ear.
“Already? Nolee, we’re supposed to be celebrating!”
Andi had been promoted to general manager of the animal shelter where we both worked, so we’d planned this weekend in Seattle together. It was a dual celebration, also marking my new part-ownership of a local pet supply store that my business partner, Ava, and I bought last year.
“A hot bath and a quiet room are my kind of party right now,” I yell back.
Andi smiles and gives me a thumbs up, dancing to the heavy beat swirling through the room. Edging my way back to the bar, I put down the glass and head to the exit, eager to leave the fug of sweat and ear-ringing music behind. Once outside, I slam the door behind me, relishing the quiet. My breath fogs in Seattle’s chilly spring air, the pavement shiny from the rain earlier that day. I open the Uber app and find a driver. He arrives in a Prius, and I scoot into the front seat, giving him a smile, smoothing my hair away from my face.
“Calling it quits early on a Friday night?” he asks. He turns down the volume on the classical music that’s playing.
“I guess I’m officially old.” I turn toward the window, watching as the lights of downtown Seattle and the darkened buildings slide past. There’s a full moon, but I can see only its blurry edges through a sky thick with clouds. It reminds me of a dream I used to have in the months after I left Texas. In the dream, a man stood waist-deep in black water, the full moon shining down on him, a searchlight on a dark and watery stage. The recurring dream turned out to be an augury, a hint at the reality of my partner, Keet Noland.
I’m jolted away from memories of Keet when the driver asks, “You’re going to the Fairmont?”
“I am.”
“Nice place.”
As he accelerates through the yellow light, I say, “It is. Nicest one I’ve ever been to. My friend convinced me that a girl’s weekend in the city should include a fancy place to stay.”
“But you’re leaving early.” He signals and turns right.
“I thought it would be fun, but it was loud and overcrowded.”
Letting out a burst of laughter, he glances at me. “I’ve felt that way about this city since I was a kid.”
“You grew up here?”
He nods, gliding to a stop as the light changes to red.
“What was that like?”
“Too loud,” he says with a smile. “But I like the rain.”
“Why do you do this?”
“Driving people around?”
I nod.
“It’s a good way to meet folks.”
“And fewer people than a nightclub,” I reply.
He laughs again, the sound filling the compact car. I laugh with him.
“I live on Lopez. It’s as quiet as I could want. Most weekends, I come into the city so I can run errands and earn extra money driving.”
“I live on Camas. It’s as quiet as I could want, too.”
We’re silent for a few moments, and then I recognize where we are through the rain sluicing down the windshield. After exchanging well wishes for the weekend, he pulls away from the curb and I enter the elegant hotel and head for the elevator.
The idea of a girl’s night out with Andi seemed perfect a week ago: escape the island for a couple days of fun. But as the elevator doors close, I yearn for the sounds of Osprey Bay at night, and the comforting shape of Keet sleeping beside me. Is it a product of age or knowing myself better, I wonder, that’s changed me into someone who no longer likes crowds or loud music?
Once in my room, I shower, put on my pajamas, read until the words start to blur, then turn off the light. I know I’m dreaming, but I can’t wake up. The air is thick around me, a black tide holding me. I spin in slow motion, blind in the darkness. I sense space behind me, and—moved by an unseen force—my body bending and folding as I’m drawn toward it. I try to move my arms, but nothing happens. Holding my breath, I push against the paralyzing force. As I twirl for the final time, I know I’ll be lost in eternal blackness. Then a spotlight shines behind me, casting my undulating shadow on a tall stone door. I see it through a scrim of liquid, a dark rectangular shape, darker than the sea I’m swimming in. But my shadow is not of a woman—it’s an orca. The dorsal fin is behind my head and my arms are long pectoral fins. I try to scream, and a watery heat fills my lungs.
Opening my eyes, I fumble in the space beside the bed and turn on the light, which reminds me that I’m in a hotel room. Disoriented, legs shaking, I stand up and go to the window. The city is quiet, the streets shiny where car lights hit the wet pavement. A few commuters pass by below me. On the skyline, a thin thread of early morning light sneaks under the cloud cover.
I’d had nightmares as a child, and they’d returned during the last years of my marriage as it imploded in slow motion. I’d hoped my new life would put an end to them.
Letting the curtains fall closed, I get a drink of water and sit on the edge of the bed. Knowing I won’t be able to sleep again, I shower and dress, then sit in an overstuffed chair in the anonymous silence that only hotels have and read my newest book. The nightmare fades as words fill my head with another world. Then, glancing at the clock, I see there’s time for me to have breakfast before I meet Andi in the spa.
“My body is a big noodle,” I say as we wait to be seated at our table for lunch. Despite myself, I feel my eyes drift closed.
Andi nudges me with her elbow. “Wake up. You’re drunker than you were last night, only this time it’s from a massage.”
“I wasn’t drunk last night.”
“You’re right. That was me.”
I open my eyes and smile as the server, a young man dressed in black, says, “Ladies, may I show you to your table?” He turns without waiting for our answer.
“How’d you find this place, Andi? It’s the fanciest hotel I’ve ever stayed in.” When I was married to Nathan and living in Texas, places like this couldn’t be found, even if Nathan and I’d wanted to spend that much time together.
“I used to live in Seattle, and this is where I stayed when I had big business meetings. It was a perk the company I worked for offered and I took them up on it.”
The carpet is so thick, I can’t hear my own steps. “What business were you in?”
The young man pulls out one of the floral-upholstered chairs for Andi as she says, “Corporate development.”
We order tea and pastries—Darjeeling for me, orange pekoe for Andi.
“What does that that mean??” I ask.
Andi shrugs. “The short answer is, I was hired by big companies to improve productivity and show them ways to implement strategies that would increase their competitiveness in their chosen markets.”
“That sounds like an answer you’ve given a few times.”
“A few,” she smiles. “I like my current job better. Dogs and cats aren’t worried about profit margins and stockholders.”
I laugh. “But I bet the board of directors of the shelter are.”
“They’re a good group of people. We need to make money, and they also realize that rescuing and adopting animals has value. I see myself as able to walk in both those worlds.”
Our server sets down two teapots and delicate cups on matching saucers, then gives us detailed brewing directions (and an egg timer) for each pot. When he leaves our table, I say, “They take their tea seriously here.”
“They do. I should’ve ordered a Mimosa.” She gives me a sly smile.
“Why didn’t you get one?”
She shrugs. “I had enough to drink last night.”
“Looks like you were having a great time.”
“I was. Why’d you cut out early?”
“Too loud. Too many people. And some guy called me ‘Grandma.’”
“Wait—twenty-something with a mullet? Sloshing his drink all over everyone?”
“That’s him.”
“If I had a dollar for every time someone called me Grandma,” she smiled.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Used to. I really don’t care anymore.”
“What’d you do?”
“I took his drink, downed it, then danced with him. He has a different definition of Grandma now.” She pours her tea into her cup and swirls in a splash of milk. The server arrives again with a three-tiered cake stand filled with small sandwiches and pastries. My stomach growls.
“Wait—did you bring him back here last night?”
Setting her spoon in the saucer, she takes a sip of tea. “God, no. Too young.”
“Dancing was enough?”
“More than. Besides,” she slides her fork under a small triangle of cucumber sandwich, “I’m not into hooking up anymore. I still like a good time, but it’s easier for me to be on my own.”
“I preferred being on my own. Especially toward the end of my first marriage.”
“Nathan, right?”
I nod, and surprise myself by almost smiling. Andi catches the glimmer.
“What was that?” she asks. “An actual good memory of your horrible ex?”
“Not a good memory, a realization: If he hadn’t been who he was and made the choices he did….”
“Like having an affair and falling in love with another man?”
“Yes, like that.” Now I am smiling. “Even though he was lying to me while we were married, he followed his heart. Doesn’t make the lying right. But a part of me understands what he did. It took courage.”
“It took nerve. You’re the one with the courage, moving all the way from Texas to an island in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yeah, but I was comfortable in my misery. It’d gone on so long that I thought being numb was the same as being content.” Lifting the fragile teacup, its heat seeping into my chilly fingertips, I take a sip. The tang and sweetness soothe my jangled nerves, wiping away more of the early-morning nightmare.
“I think there’s something about Camas that cultivates contentment,” Andi muses, after taking a sip of her tea.
“Definitely.”
We each take a pastry from the stand, eating in silence until Andi says, “But didn’t you mean to stay independent?”
I rest my fork on the porcelain plate and think for a moment before replying. “I had every intention of never being with anyone, ever again.”
“What changed?”
Now my smile isn’t almost appearing; it’s beaming full force across the table at Andi, who smiles back.
“Stupid question, Nolee. I know you and Keet met. But I mean, how did you decide you could try being with someone else again?”
I shake my head. “Would it be an easy out to say that I trusted my feelings?”
“Way too easy. C’mon. You’d just left a marriage where your husband treated you like you were invisible. You knew you could get by if it was just yourself. What changed?”
Instead of answering, I fire a question back at her. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, Andi?”
With a nervous laugh, she takes a bite of cake and a sip of tea. When she sets down the cup, it rattles in the saucer. “I met someone. A guy—”
“Andi, that’s wonderful! How did you meet him?”
A pink flush creeps up her cheeks before she says, “Online. His name’s Mason.”
“And?”
“And he wants to fly out here and meet me.”
“Where does he live?”
“New Mexico. Albuquerque.”
The smile fades from her face, and the lines around her mouth deepen.
“What’s wrong?”
The waiter leaves our table after we assure him we have enough hot water. Andi says, “Nothing’s wrong. Everything seems right. We FaceTime almost every night and text during the day. He seems like a nice guy.”
“And?”
Andi laughs. “You’re trying to distract me from you and Keet.”
“We can get back to that. Right now, I want to hear why you’re hesitating about Mason.”
“Shit. Caught.”
“Spit it out! You’re the one who had this idea for an amazing girl’s weekend.”
Andi drains the tea from her cup. “I’ve been on my own for a very long time. I like it.”
“How does that affect your concern about Mason?”
“I’m incredibly attracted to him. But we’ve only texted and FaceTimed.”
“Don’t you think it’s possible you’d be more attracted to Mason in person?”
“Look at you, smiling like you have a juicy secret.”
“No secret, Andi. That’s why Keet and I got together. Mutual attraction.”
“And?” She throws my question back at me with a smile.
“And nothing!” I flush, knowing that in addition to our mutual attraction, Keet and I do share a secret—that he’s Keykwin, one of a dwindling race of people who can also change into orca, or, as they call themselves, Blackfish.
“Nolee Burnett. Are you blushing?”
Mouth suddenly dry, I drain my teacup. “Maybe. What I was going to say was that attraction turned into something much deeper. A relationship with him was going to be different than with any other person I knew.”
“It was love at first sight?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. Keet intrigued me. He still does. He sees the world and interacts with it in ways that I’ve never even imagined.”
Realizing that Keet’s secret is hidden in the words I’ve chosen, I want to take back what I just said. Instead, I take the last bite of chocolate cake and watch Andi, her expression thoughtful.
“Like?”
“He’s calm in situations that rile me up. He reads me like an open book, even when I don’t want to look at myself. He’s gentle, and strong.” My heart races as I remember Keet’s kisses. The ache of missing him these past weeks is embedded like a splinter in the middle of my chest. I understand why he chose to accompany his sister Zelka to return the water clock, but that doesn’t make me miss him any less.
“But you didn’t know that when you first met him.”
“I didn’t know the details, but I felt them all the same.”
“Felt what?”
Shifting in my chair, I move the empty cup and saucer away. “I could be myself with him. I’ve kept myself buried for most of my adult life, Andi, and I’m not doing that anymore. Keet was the first person I knew I could trust.”
“Even after he left you last winter?”
I look out the window at the rain, hearing its soft patter against the glass.
“When he left, I was more determined to not lose everything I’d gained for myself.”
“You were also a wreck. How’d you come back from that?”
Then it hits me. Andi wants an entry and exit plan, a Guide to Relationships. I laugh more loudly than I mean to and notice people at the other tables looking at us. I ignore them and watch as Andi smiles, then chuckles.
“What’s so funny?”
“You! Me. Look at us, trying to come up with surefire ways to protect ourselves from being hurt by another person.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Maybe not on purpose, Andi. But isn’t there a part of you, a part you don’t want to listen to, who wants assurances no one can give?”
She pauses, then nods, looking down at her empty plate and cup. The silver light outside matches her hair. “Maybe. Probably. But you still didn’t answer my question, Nolee.”
“About how I trusted Keet again? Well, I had two choices. I could be alone and wonder, or I could believe what he told me and try again. This time, from a place of trusting myself.”
“That easy?”
“That simple. Wasn’t easy.”
Andi digs through her purse, grabs her phone, and swipes it open. She spends a few moments tapping at the screen before turning it toward me. On it is a photo of a man with salt and pepper hair, laugh lines around his dark eyes, and a broad and inviting smile. He’s holding a black cat with bright green eyes.
“This is Mason?”
“That’s him. Stunning, right?”
I smile. “Most definitely. Helps that he likes animals, even if it is cats.”
Andi laughs and tucks the phone back in her purse.
I pause, then ask, “The only question you need to answer now is, ‘What’s next?’”
“You sound like me.”
“Great minds.”
“What’s next is a visit with Mason,” Andi says.
“Is he staying at your place, or a local hotel?”
“I thought I’d take him to bed as soon as he got off the ferry.”
I choke on a piece of cake.
“You deserve that, poking into my business. He’ll stay at the Northsound Inn.”
“That’s a good place.” I take a sip of water to clear my throat.
“They serve a nice breakfast…,” her voice trails off as she looks out the window at the rain.
“What? You’re not making breakfast for him?”
Andi tosses her napkin across the table as I laugh. “Dammit, Nolee,” she says, laughing. “I think you want me to get laid more than I do.”
We laugh through the rest of our meal, and I’m still smiling as I take the elevator up to my room. Andi and I agree to meet later for our final dinner in the city, so I opt for a bath and a nap. I check my phone to make sure Sylvie is doing okay with my dogs, Fae and Wallace. No texts. I lob the phone on the bed and walk into the bathroom.
As the tub fills, I undress, catching glimpses of myself in the mirror, noticing my droopy upper arms, the fullness of my hips and thighs, the disappearance of my once-small waist. When did I get so much gray hair? Who is this old woman staring back at me? I look away from my reflection, vowing to watch myself in the mirror less often.
