With the notable exception of Ben Krieg, Lucas had always considered the crew of the seaQuest extremely well mannered. They rarely swore like sailors, anyway – unless they were talking about the summer weather in Southern Florida. Many of the officers had been stationed there at some point in their UEO careers, and the weather was something of a private joke – a joke that used words that would have made a career sailor like Crocker blush.
Finally Lucas understood why.
Polite words like "humid" and "hot" and "muggy" weren't nearly good enough to describe what was happening outside in New Cape Quest. Lucas felt ridiculously overdressed in his shorts and T-shirt. He felt his boxers clinging to spots they most definitely shouldn't, and the sweat wasn't just dripping down his back, it was cascading. Sprawled on a sofa in Bridger's living room, Lucas wondered what exactly the captain had against air conditioning.
Lucas had been released from the hospital four days ago to a record heat wave. Or that's what it felt like. According to the newspapers, 100 degrees in the shade was normal. It didn't help matters that Lucas' chest and shoulder were still cocooned in bandages, or that he hadn't been able to shake the headache and dizziness that remained of his concussion.
Lucas turned a page of the magazine in his lap. He'd been sitting with the magazine for close to an hour now, and he hadn't read a single article, or even bothered to look at any of the pages. His attention was fixed outside, where Bridger was repairing a lawnmower on the back deck. With Founders' Day approaching, the captain was technically supposed to be participating in a week's worth of UEO celebrations. But Bridger said he had bowed out of all of them to stay home with Lucas. Now he was repairing the lawnmower, or trying to. Through the windows in the back of the house, opened wide as though to tempt a breeze into the stifling hot living room, Lucas could see and hear everything the captain was doing. He smiled when he heard Bridger swear. Again.
"You think it's funny, why don't you try fixing it?"
Lucas' smile withered when he saw that Bridger had caught him staring. He didn't answer, just lowered his eyes to the magazine and stared at the words until he heard Bridger go back to work on the lawnmower.
All of the days since Lucas had come home from the hospital had passed in much the same way. Lucas mostly slept, ate and avoided conversation.
Lucas wasn't quite ashamed of his breakdown at the hospital with the captain. The logical part of him understood that it had been therapeutic, and that Bridger didn't think any less of him for losing control. But that didn't mean he had to like it, or seek that kind of emotional unloading again. Lucas still felt painfully vulnerable. He was doing all that he could to distract himself from thinking or feeling, but it was difficult when he felt physically weak and there was still so much left unresolved about the past six weeks.
Upon arriving home, Lucas had quickly realized that he had few options for keeping himself entertained. His laptop was gone, taken as evidence by police investigators. Lucas had been secretly pleased to find it missing, not eager to even look at, much less use, the computer that had caused him so much grief. Besides, he still had Bridger's computer, but with only one hand to type he'd become frustrated by how slow he had to work.
Not that it mattered much anyway, as his head injury made it difficult to concentrate on anything. It was a symptom that the doctor said would improve in a few days, but for now it meant he had trouble reading, writing or sometimes even carrying on long conversations. Meanwhile, the blood loss from his stab wounds made him weak, and merely standing for more than a few minutes left him tired and light-headed.
So he was left in what he considered the worst possible situation: he had nothing to do but think.
"It's really hot today."
Lucas jerked on the sofa, startled by the captain's voice. Recovering quickly, he said, "It's hot everyday. Tell me again why we don't have air conditioning?"
"Because, that's exactly the kind of technology I was trying to escape from when I built this place," Bridger explained patiently.
"And the computer? The washing machine? The TV?"
"Even I've got my limits," Bridger said. "Just keep the windows open. A nice breeze-"
"-is bound to come along. Yeah, I know," Lucas finished, and turned another page in the unread magazine.
"What sounds good for lunch?" Bridger asked, laughing when Lucas ducked under an attempt to ruffle his hair as the captain passed by the couch to the kitchen.
"I don't care," Lucas answered. His stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he thought he heard it call out for a grilled cheese sandwich.
"How about grilled cheese?" the captain called out from the kitchen.
Lucas stared in awe at his stomach. "That's fine," he answered.
Suddenly bored now that he didn't have Bridger's pathetic attempts at fixing the lawnmower to entertain him, Lucas dragged himself off the couch, plucking at the T-shirt that was sticking to his chest. He paused momentarily to let a wave of dizziness pass before wandering into the kitchen. He tried to ignore the new patch of carpet – it was stiffer and brighter than the surrounding areas – that had replaced the piece stained with blood. Lucas sat at the kitchen table, where he could watch Bridger slicing chunks of cheddar cheese.
"Your mom called again today," Bridger announced, his back to Lucas. When Lucas didn't respond, he continued. "She still wants to visit. I told her you were doing fine but it might be better if she came down in a few weeks, when you can show her around town."
"Thanks," Lucas said quietly. He suspected his mother was only asking to visit because it was what was expected of her. She was probably at least as relieved as he was to have an excuse not to come. Time spent with his mom was almost guaranteed to be awkward and stressful, and it would be even worse with him injured and her unsure how to act around him. Besides, she wouldn't travel anywhere without Rick, and his stepfather was just about the last person Lucas wanted to see.
Bridger was grilling the sandwiches now, pressing the bread down with the back of a spatula so the pan sizzled and spat. Lucas watched, transfixed, as tiny spots of butter squirted from between the slices of bread and landed on the countertop.
"What are your plans for the day?" Bridger asked, lifting a sandwich out of the pan.
"Same as yesterday, I guess," Lucas said. "Thanks," he added, as Bridger set the sandwich in front of him.
"Lemonade?" Bridger asked a moment later when he took the seat across from Lucas at the table. It was a rhetorical question; he already had two glasses of juice. Next to Lucas' glass Bridger also set down two pale blue tablets. Lucas scowled at the pills but swallowed them without comment.
They ate in silence for several minutes, listening to each other chew. Lucas mostly studied his sandwich, the captain gazed thoughtfully out the window as though trying to solve the lawnmower puzzle.
The quiet was broken when Lucas put down his sandwich and began absentmindedly rubbing at the stitches in his shoulder.
"Stop itching," Bridger said.
"Scratching."
Bridger raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What?"
"Stop scratching. Itch is a noun."
"Stop correcting my grammar," Bridger said. Lucas smiled at him and returned to his sandwich. He paused mid-chew when he realized the captain was still staring, and looked up to find Bridger beaming at him.
"What?" Lucas asked after swallowing his food. It was his turn to be confused.
"That's two smiles in one day," Bridger said fondly.
Lucas opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it and settled for a nod instead. He knew the captain had to be well aware of his despondency – they lived together, after all – but it still felt odd to hear him actually say something about it. Neither of them had brought up his father or the stabbing at all since he'd come home.
"I'm going outside for awhile," Lucas announced when he'd finished his sandwich. He wiped his mouth with a crumpled napkin and carried his plate to the kitchen. He left the glass on the table, unable to carry both items with one arm in a sling.
"Want some company?" Bridger asked. Lucas could feel him staring at his back.
"No, thanks."
"Stay out of the sun," Bridger warned.
"I know."
Lucas stooped to pick up his magazine on his way out the back door. On the deck, he squinted into the bright sun for a few moments, trying to remember where he'd left his sunglasses as he let his eyes adjust to the light. The constant ache in his head thumped briefly against his temple, then dulled again. He walked down the steps that led off the deck and into the sand.
He took a few minutes to get settled in his favorite chair. It was low to the ground with a meshed back that caved under his weight as he shifted to find a position that allowed him to rest his head against the back and still keep his arm comfortably elevated. The chair sat in one of the very few shady spots outside, below the deck and just out of reach from the high afternoon sun.
Lucas opened his magazine again but didn't bother looking at it. He stared out at the ocean instead, letting his eyes become unfocused until the sea and the horizon blended together, and his head drooped toward the side. Just as he fell asleep, he faintly heard Bridger pounding on the lawnmower and swearing, and he smiled for the third time that day.
xxxXXXxxx
It was late when Lucas woke from his nap in the chair beneath the deck; the mid-afternoon shadows had stretched as the sun sank behind the house, but the air was still thick and overly warm.
Lucas yawned and stretched his legs out in front of him. He could smell the musty scent of charcoal and lighter fluid coming from the deck, which meant they would have barbecue for dinner. He hoped it wasn't more emu burgers.
"Good evening, sleepyhead," Bridger called down to Lucas as he stood somewhat shakily from his chair. "Have a good nap?"
"I guess," Lucas said around another yawn.
"Kristin's coming over for dinner. I thought we'd have emu burgers."
Lucas groaned. "Again?"
"I thought you liked Dr. Westphalen," Bridger teased.
Lucas groaned again.
"Don't worry, Kristin's bringing some of those tasteless patties you call burgers. You have no sense of adventure."
"I've already had plenty of adventure," Lucas mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Lucas said louder. "I'm going down to say hi to Darwin."
"Want some company?" Bridger asked.
"No, thanks."
Lucas was barefoot and the sand was still hot, so he hopped more than walked down to the short pier where Bridger kept his boat docked. He felt winded by the time he stepped onto the wood planks. He was breathing heavily as he eased down onto the end of the pier and whistled for Darwin. The dolphin arrived in less than a minute, bobbing to the water's surface to rub his back against the bottoms of Lucas' feet.
"Hey, Darwin," Lucas said quietly. He scrunched his toes against Darwin's wet nose as the dolphin poked his head out of the water and seemed to grin at Lucas. Carefully, his shoulder and side protesting the movement, Lucas leaned over and briefly ran a hand over Darwin's smooth skin.
He'd been down to the pier at least twice a day since coming home from the hospital. Lucas wondered if Darwin was aware something had changed with Lucas, that something was wrong. He suspected Darwin knew, and somehow Lucas was comforted by that thought.
"Sorry I don't have any fish with me," Lucas said. Darwin barked at him. "I'll remember next time."
With a long squeak, Darwin nudged one more time at Lucas' feet then dove into the water, coming up seconds later into a grand, arching flip. The resulting splash caught Lucas full in the face, and he laughed out loud.
"That's amazing," came an awed whisper from behind. Lucas spun around to find Cheryl standing at the opposite end of the pier. Her hands were behind her back, and her stringy, sun-bleached hair hung over much of her face. "I didn't know he was that friendly."
"Yeah, he likes people," Lucas said. Cheryl seemed to snap out of her astonishment at his words and blushed. She quickly looked down at the pier.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said to her feet.
"You're not bothering me," Lucas said.
"I, um, I just came by to see how you were doing. Captain Bridger said I could come down."
"I'm fine," Lucas said. She raised her eyes long enough to glance at the sling and then at his face, which he knew was still badly bruised. "Well, mostly fine," he amended.
"I'm glad," she whispered, eyes down again.
They were both quiet. Cheryl shifted on her feet, and Lucas ran a hand through his hair, wet from Darwin's splash.
"I meant to thank you, for what you did," Lucas said finally.
She looked up at him in surprise. "I didn't really do anything."
"Are you kidding? The doctors said you might've saved my life. I could've bled to death if you hadn't been there."
Cheryl shrugged.
"Why were you there, anyway?" Lucas asked. He had yet to hear the entire story of his rescue. He knew Skipper had called Bridger, which explained how the captain and Westphalen got there. But that was all.
"Oh." Cheryl took a deep breath, as though preparing for an important speech. "We, I mean my brothers and sisters and I, we were hanging out in the front yard when we saw that strange car drive by."
"Yeah," Lucas said slowly. "I remember seeing you guys playing."
"Uh huh." Cheryl nodded. "Well, you know we almost never get strange cars on the island, so we decided to follow it and see where it went. By the time we saw it in your driveway, you were already inside."
"Did you know it was me in the car?" Lucas asked, remembering the hood he'd been made to wear.
Cheryl shook her head. "No. I just saw a woman driving and two other people in the car. When we saw where the car had stopped, we decided to go back home. A little while later we were in the backyard, because Lucy and Stephen wanted to go swimming and I had to watch them. Mama and Dad were shopping, so I was in charge."
She blushed again, as though aware she was sliding off topic.
"Anyway, all of a sudden I looked over at Mr. Diamond's house – he's our next door neighbor," she added, and Lucas nodded that he knew who Mr. Diamond was, "and the woman who was driving the car was stealing his boat."
"Really?" Lucas asked. "Is that how she got away?"
Cheryl nodded. "Yeah. Trevor wanted to run over and stop her, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I made him go next door and tell Mr. Diamond instead."
"That was smart," Lucas said, and Cheryl's cheeks flushed even further.
"The whole thing seemed really strange," Cheryl went on. "I kept trying to figure out why she would run away like that. And I started to get kind of worried, I guess."
She stopped suddenly and chewed nervously on her lip.
"You were worried…" Lucas prompted, unsure why she had paused.
"I was worried, um, about you, I guess." She shot a glance at him then quickly resumed her story. "I didn't even know for sure whether you were home, but, well, like I said, it was all very strange, and I knew she'd been at your house. So I told Lucy to watch Stephen and I decided to check out your house."
"Because you thought something might be wrong," he said, nodding thoughtfully.
"Yeah. But I wasn't sure what I was going to do," Cheryl said. "I mean, it seemed strange just to knock on your door and ask if everything was okay. But it didn't matter, because when I got there the front door was wide open. I called out to you and Captain Bridger a few times, but no one answered. I was just going to peek in, see if I could hear anything, I guess, when I saw you."
Lucas nodded slowly. He couldn't begin to imagine the shock she must have felt when she'd found him.
"It was terrible," she said, her voice soft and shaking. "There was blood everywhere. And you were so still. I thought maybe… So then I went in, and I saw that man on the floor too, and I called the police. I know a little first aid, my parents insist that we take classes, and all I could do was try to stop the bleeding. But there was that knife, and you wouldn't wake up at first… I was so worried."
She stopped finally and Lucas realized that he was breathing heavily, nearly gasping. He could hear the blood pulsing in his head. Then he looked up and saw that Cheryl was crying.
"Hey," he started, and swung his legs up onto the pier so he could stand and go to her. But she put up a hand to keep him away.
"I'm sorry," she choked, running a hand under her nose.
"No, don't apologize," he said. "I'm sorry."
The both fell silent. Lucas kneeled awkwardly at the edge of the pier, and Cheryl wiped at her eyes and cheeks.
"I should probably get back home," she said after a few minutes, her voice stronger now but still quiet as ever. "Um, I brought you this."
She brought a hand from behind her back and handed him a blue gift bag. He took it and pulled out a gray stuffed animal – what type of animal it was supposed to be, he couldn't tell.
"Thank you," he said.
Cheryl shrugged. "You're welcome," she answered. "Um, Trevor said you should come over sometime, you know, when you feel up to it."
"I will," Lucas said.
"Okay," she said, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, good night."
"Thanks again," he said. Cheryl flashed a timid smile and in a flash of blond hair, she raced back up the beach.
Lucas sighed as she ran away, then slowly turned back around on the pier and let his legs dangle over the end again. The stuffed animal sat in his lap. He was looking for Darwin when he heard Bridger approach from behind.
"Hey," Lucas said as the captain sat next to him on the pier.
"What's that?" Bridger asked, pointing to the stuffed animal.
"It's a stuffed animal," Lucas said.
"I know that," Bridger said, exasperated. "But it's no animal I've ever seen."
"Could be an otter," Lucas said, holding it up in what remained of the evening light.
"Or a whale," Bridger guessed.
They both studied it as Lucas slowly turned it in circles. Suddenly they both broke into grins.
"A dolphin," they said together.
"You know, I think she likes you," Bridger said, taking the gift from Lucas.
"Who?"
Bridger gave Lucas a look of total disbelief. "Cheryl," he said.
"Really?" Lucas asked. He turned to look behind him, as though hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
"Yep, really," Bridger said. He shoved the stuffed dolphin back at Lucas.
"But I bled all over her," Lucas said. "And just now, I made her cry."
"Are you kidding? Girls love that kind of thing."
"What kind of thing?" Lucas asked, completely bewildered.
"Bleeding. Hurting. They love to see a guy in pain."
"That's sick. Why would they love something like that?"
Bridger shrugged. "Who knows? It must bring out the mothering instinct or something. There's nothing a woman likes more than being able to take care of a guy."
"Really," Lucas said thoughtfully.
"Hey, don't get any ideas," Bridger warned with a smile.
"Don't worry. I won't."
They sat in comfortable quiet for awhile, kicking their legs over the water and watching Darwin turn somersaults in the distant waves. The sun was beginning to set behind them, and it painted the water gold.
Lucas looked up when he heard Bridger take a deep breath beside him.
"This came for you," the captain said, and handed over a package.
"What is it?" Lucas asked as he set the stuffed dolphin to one side and grabbed the package. Bridger didn't answer, and Lucas studied the parcel. It was a box wrapped in brown paper, with his name and address scrawled in hasty handwriting on the front. There was no return address. The brown paper had already been opened, then carefully folded back over the package. Lucas glanced at Bridger, his eyebrows raised in question.
"Skipper brought it over a few days ago," Bridger explained. "I had the police check it out first."
Lucas nodded. "Did they find anything?"
"No."
Lucas looked down at the package and saw that his hand was shaking. He set the parcel in his lap and carefully pulled off the paper. He gasped softly when three books slid out.
"Lord of the Rings," Lucas said softly. He flipped through the pages of the first book, recognizing in flashes of text the names and places he hadn't thought of in years. Tucked toward the back of the book was a piece of paper folded into quarters. Lucas took it out and opened it, finding a letter written in the same messy script that was on the front of the package.
Dear Lucas,
I won't bother apologizing. What I have done is inexcusable and I won't ask your forgiveness.
Your father wanted you to have these books as a gift for finishing your tour on the seaQuest. He never got a chance to send them, so I'm giving them to you now.
I hope you are well.
Jordan
He reread the letter once before passing it to Bridger, who glanced at the note, then turned to study Lucas. But Lucas kept his head turned toward the ocean, willing away the tears that were threatening to spill. He would not cry over his father again.
"I remember reading those books in high school," Bridger said. He reached over to take the first book and thumbed through the pages. "I don't remember them very well, but I think my favorite character was called Gandalf. Oh, and here's Strider, I remember him. And Frodo. Of course I remember Frodo."
Lucas closed his eyes and wiped angrily at the tear that escaped down his cheek.
"My father was never going to give these to me," he said, silently cursing the quiver he heard in his voice. "He probably had no idea it was the end of tour. He didn't even remember my birthday. This was her idea."
"You don't know that," Bridger suggested.
"Don't I?" Lucas said, turning on the captain.
"These books have special meaning for you, don't they?"
Lucas cringed and looked out at the water again.
"That document he sent you. Frodo. Why do you think he named it that?"
"Look, it doesn't even matter."
Bridger reached out and laid a hand on Lucas' arm, turning him so they were facing each other. Lucas refused to meet his eyes, looking instead past the captain's shoulder. The setting sun sparkled in his peripheral vision.
"Why doesn't it matter?" Bridger said gently, still gripping Lucas' arm.
"Because my father was responsible," Lucas yelled. He spun around fully, ripping his arm away from the captain and bringing his legs up on the pier in front of him. The books slid off his lap and onto the pier. He ignored the pain that sliced through his injured side. "My father had that document, he knew what he was doing was wrong, and he did it anyway. He kept that report from the UEO, all to protect himself and his science. And eight people died! He was responsible for those people. For all I know he killed the guy who wrote the report too. He did terrible things, Captain. I can't ever forget that. I won't let myself."
"You don't know that he did all that," said Bridger, calm but stern.
"I know enough."
"No, you don't know enough. And maybe you never will." Lucas stared at Bridger, who was frowning and shaking his head. "You'll probably never know exactly what your father did or didn't do. You're right, maybe he did terrible things, maybe he was responsible for those people who died, and hell, just maybe he did kill that man."
Lucas was stunned. Now that the words were out there, he wanted desperately to take it all back, to defend his father, to do everything to prove his innocence. But before he could speak, Bridger continued.
"But maybe he didn't," Bridger said, and he reached out again to grip Lucas' shoulder. "Lucas, your dad was a terrible father." Lucas opened his mouth in alarm, but Bridger waved a hand for him to keep quiet. "He wasn't there for you when he should've been and he didn't say or do the things a father's supposed to. And he probably did some bad things in the name of science. But that doesn't mean he was a bad man."
"He had that document, Captain. He knew what was going to happen," Lucas stuttered. Bridger lowered his hand to reach around Lucas' neck, pulling Lucas toward him and staring carefully into his eyes. Lucas could feel the tears surfacing again, but he didn't care.
"I know, Lucas. But he did a good thing, in the end."
"Did he?"
"Yeah," Bridger said, smiling gently. "He sent that file to his son, and he trusted you to fix what he had done wrong. He knew you would do the right thing."
Lucas nodded carefully, too shaken to speak.
"It's all up to you now," Bridger said, and he laid his other hand on Lucas' chest. "You can believe what you want about your father. You can believe he was a terrible person, that he did all of the things you fear the most. Or you can believe he wanted to do the right thing, that he tried to be a good man, and that's what matters. It's up to you to decide."
Lucas blinked carefully and lowered his head. The tears felt cool on his flushed cheeks as they dripped off his chin and into his lap. He saw the books lying on the pier and he picked one up. Maybe his father had meant to give him the books. Maybe he hadn't. Lucas decided it didn't matter. He would read them anyway.
Bridger pulled Lucas to his side, careful of his injured shoulder, and wrapped an arm around him. Clutching the book to his chest, Lucas let himself cry quietly, and the captain said nothing, just passed his hand slowly over his hair and held him.
The sun had long set and the dusk was deepening to gray when they finally stirred on the pier. Lucas sat up slowly and turned his head as he wiped the tears from his face.
"I'm starving," Bridger announced, climbing to his feet. "Kristin probably figures I took you swimming with the dolphins. You ready to head back?"
"Yeah," Lucas said. He fumbled trying to gather the books and stuffed dolphin with just one arm.
"Here, I'll take it," Bridger said, grabbing the stuffed animal and helping Lucas stack the books. "What are you going to name it?"
"You even have to ask?" Lucas asked.
Bridger laughed and looped his arm around Lucas' shoulder as they trudged back up the beach toward his house. They could see Westphalen standing on the deck, her arms crossed over her chest in obvious concern. They had a lecture waiting for them. Bridger waved playfully at her, dolphin in hand.
"She looks angry," Lucas mumbled.
"She always looks that way."
"You like her. A lot."
"And what would you know about that?" Bridger teased.
"More than you think."
"Oh?" Bridger raised an eyebrow.
Lucas slowed his pace slightly, kicking at the sand with his bare toes. "Captain, what's going to happen next?"
"What do you mean?" asked Bridger, frowning.
"Now that my dad's, well, really gone, where am I supposed to go? I can't stay here forever."
"Sure you can," Bridger said. He squeezed Lucas' neck affectionately. "Don't worry, Lucas. This year's going to be great."
"Really," Lucas said uncertainly. "What're we going to do?"
"Well, first of all there's a small matter of building a new boat."
Fin