My Only One (21 page)

“The Soviet Union isn’t the United States,” Susan agreed glumly.

Anger filtered into Abby’s voice as she opened her knapsack, which served as her purse. “They’re so backward in so many ways! Alec opened a lot of doors for them. Right now, the SOWF is working at establishing a branch office in Moscow. You’d think his government would have Alec there to help it happen. But no, they put him back on that miserable ship out in the middle of nowhere.”

Abby sat there, her hands crumpling the knapsack. Tears stung her eyes. “Dammit, I’m crying again! Look at me, Susan. Ever since Alec left, I’ve been nothing more than a crybaby!” She searched for a tissue in the pocket of her jeans, found one and dabbed her eyes with it.

Rubbing her shoulder, Susan nodded. “You’ve got to keep up the hope, Abby. The Soviet Union is undergoing such lightning-fast changes that they may allow Alec to come back here again for more public-relations duties.”

Blowing her nose, Abby muttered, “I don’t dare hope those kinds of things when it comes to Alec.”

“Tim has held out hope for Courtney and me,” Susan said softly, hurting for her friend. “Even when things got rough and I started getting scared, he kept the hope alive for all of us. Now look at me—I’m learning new tools in therapy, and I’m able to start differentiating between Tim and Steve. Because Tim had faith, things changed, Abby. I’m a believer in dreams of the future now, believe me.” She laughed and held up her hands in a sign of peace. “Me! The yuppie-generation girl who used to work seventy hours a week. Now, I work forty hours instead, have my weekends free to play and I love it! But if Tim hadn’t doggedly and patiently been there to point out these things, and if I hadn’t had the courage to make those changes, I’d still be on that greed treadmill.”

Abby couldn’t argue with Susan’s logic. “I’m just glad you and Tim have taken the hurdles like you have.”

Susan smiled a secret smile. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“He’s taking us home to meet his parents in Dallas two weeks from now. I love how old-fashioned he is, Abby. Tim never lost the sense of family or what it means, like many of us did. I’m finding that it’s giving me structure and framework to not only get back on my feet, but to stand on my own.”

Gripping Susan’s hand, Abby forced a smile. “I’m so happy for you and Courtney. You’re right, if you hadn’t pulled yourself up by your own bootstraps, none of this would have happened. Tim supported your belief you could change for the better.”

“I love him, Abby. I love him so much, I hurt inside.”

How well Abby knew that feeling. Holding Susan’s hand and seeing the fear mixed with joy in her eyes, she understood. “Have you told him that?”

“No…not yet.”

“Has he told you he loves you?”

“Yes.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “He did? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Shyly, Susan shrugged. “Last evening he told me over dinner. I lost my appetite, Abby. I just sat there with this stupid look on my face. I got scared. Real scared.” She smiled a little. “But Tim’s taught me about hope. Hope for a better, happier future.”

Thrilled, Abby threw her arms around Susan. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Just wonderful!” She embraced her friend and then released her. “No one deserves happiness more than you and Courtney.”

Gripping Abby’s hand, which was cool to her touch, Susan said gently, “And so do you, Abby. Don’t give up the love you have for Alec. Just look at me and what’s happening because I maintained hope and trust.”

Sadly, Abby smiled. “Don’t worry, I have all kinds of hope. At night in my dreams, I see Alec. I’m with him in them. When I wake up in the morning, reality drenches me and I try to balance my beautiful inner world of dreams and what I wish could be against the logic of my awake world.”

“Just don’t give up, Abby. Not ever.”

“I won’t,” she reassured Susan shakily. “With the fall session of Congress convening soon, I’m going to be working very closely with the SOWF lobbyist and certain congressmen who are leaning toward enforcing the whale legislation. I’ll be very busy the next six months, believe me. I won’t have time to think too much or too long about Alec.”

“Next January you go down to Baja for the whale calving, don’t you?”

She nodded. “My favorite time of year. I love watching the babies being born in those beautiful turquoise waters. I understand the Soviets are going to allow Dr. Belov, one of their top marine biologists, to join me on board the ship.”

“See, all this hard work you and Alec did together earlier this year is paying off.”

Abby wanted to be happy about it, but couldn’t. The tunnel of grief she was just now starting to come out of had proved a long and tortuous journey alone. The only antidote, if there was such a thing, was working long, hard hours. She had rationalized her extreme measures by telling herself she would have less time to think, to feel about Alec.

Perhaps, going to Anchorage again would help, but Abby knew it was simply going to dredge up all the old feelings, the memories of when she’d first met Alec.

“At least,” Susan added, “Dr. Turner resigned from the State Department recently.”

Abby shrugged. “Can you imagine giving certain PAC lobbyists preferential treatment on overseas deals? I never did trust her.”

“The morals and values of some of our politicians and government officials has sunk to an all-time low. I hear she’s taken a teaching position at some college in Montana.”

“A good place for her,” Abby said. “Out of sight, out of mind. I wish all my enemies would disappear like that, but they won’t.” She stood. “The man who replaced her probably isn’t going to be any different in political attitude than she was. Sometimes,” Abby said with a sigh, “I get tired, Susan. Tired of fighting city hall.”

Getting to her feet, Susan nodded. “You’re tired for a lot of reasons, Abby. It’s been a hard year on you so far. But look at what’s been accomplished. So much good has come out of it. You’re reaching people.”

“Yes, but there’s so much more I have to do before—”

“What you have to do,” Susan interrupted, “is take a break. Relax, for a while. Promise me that before you leave for Anchorage, you’ll have lunch with the three of us and just relax.”

“Sure.” Maybe being with people who had some happiness in their lives would help balance out what was lacking in her own. And maybe going to Alaska would help her heal. Maybe.

* * *

“Y
OU’RE AWFUL QUIET
, A
BBY
,” Captain John Stratman said, glancing at her from the helm. Ahead of them in the dusk, the Bering Sea just south of Kodiak Island looked like smooth, flawless glass.

Abby stirred from the bolted-down chair that she sat on, scanning the horizon for the telltale plumes of whales blowing as they surfaced in the ocean. “It’s been a quiet week, hasn’t it?” On the console in front of her was a copy of
Almost at the End
by Yevgeny Yevfushenko, a popular Russian writer. The book was a collection of prose and poems by a man who was obviously pro-
glasnost.
Abby was reading it because it made her feel closer to Alec. She wanted to better understand the world he lived in. During the quiet moments, she would keep John company on the bridge, read her books and then scan the sea with binoculars, hunting for the pods of whales.

“Humph. It’s late October and nary a whaler in sight. I’m gettin' bored,” John grumbled.

With a slight smile, Abby rested the heavy binoculars in her lap. “I think the whalers have gotten the message. At least, for this year.” Even now, the Bering Sea area was preparing for the coming winter. The whales were turning south to begin their annual five-thousand-mile migration to Baja, Mexico, to spend the winter in the warm lagoon waters and then birth their calves in January and February.

The
Argonaut
slid along the surface, hardly bobbing at all. Abby wondered if it was the calm before the storm. In the pocket of her jeans was Alec’s latest letter, a letter that filled her with joy and sadness at the same time. He was now in Kamchatka, on the peninsula, slaving away at a desk job and acting as an assistant to an admiral of the pacific fleet.

“Eh, what about that Soviet captain? Rostov? Heard from him lately?”

“I got a letter from Alec last week just before we sailed, John. He’s okay.”

“Kinda was hopin' for your sake that we’d meet up with the
Udaloy
out here somewhere.”

Abby winced inwardly, the pain in her heart always there every time she thought about Alec. “He’s been stationed in Kamchatka, John.”

“Moving up in the world, eh? Good for him.”

Wryly, she said, “I don’t know if anchoring him to land is good or not. He’s really unhappy right now.” Wasn’t she? For the past few months, Abby had hoped to see Alec by chance, somewhere out on the Bering Sea. But everything was working against them seeing each other. Everything.

Scratching his jaw, John angled a look in her direction. “You’ve changed, you know.”

“Oh?” Abby slid off the stool and stretched. She wore her jeans, a pair of sensible deck shoes and a dark green heavy sweater.

“You’ve never said as much, but I suspected you like the guy an awful lot.”

“I love him, but it doesn’t do any good, does it?”

“Not much,” John agreed in a rumbling voice. He turned the helm a bit, the
Argonaut
's bow pointing in a more northeasterly direction, toward Anchorage. “Sorry that it hasn’t worked out for you two. The SOWF people are happier than hell over all that’s happened.” He grinned slightly. “I’m sure the whales are, too, but they don’t read many newspapers. They keep getting wet.”

John’s grizzled kind of humor always cheered Abby up. She stood next to him and appreciated the pale pink color reflected off the glassy sea at dusk. “If they did, I’m sure they’d come alongside the
Argonaut
and shake hands with us,” she said with a laugh.

Stratman nodded. “Yup, they would. Well, the ice floe is starting to muck up this part of the world and no one will be running a whaling ship around here pretty soon. What’s ahead for you?”

“I’m spending November and December in Washington, D.C. My mom will be staying with me at my apartment off and on when her work brings her to town. I’ll be helping her out quite a bit, learning the ropes of her trade a little more. I’ve got a scientific paper in progress that the university is waiting for. I’ve promised them I’d get it in before I leave for Baja in January.”

“So, I imagine your friends will be happy you’re coming home for a while.”

The gentle rocking motion of the
Argonaut
was always soothing to Abby. As she stood there, feet slightly apart to account for the boat’s movement, she smiled fondly. “Did I tell the latest about Susan?”

“The one who fancies that Coast Guard officer who squired you around earlier this year?”

“Same one. Susan just wrote me a letter telling me Tim proposed to her, and she accepted. They’re getting married this December, right at Christmas. Isn’t that wonderful? That’s so romantic.”

Stratman nodded. “Marriage is fine for some people, not me.”

“You’ve always been married,” Abby teased, “to this boat of yours.”

“That’s right, and she’s been a fine mistress and an uncomplainin' wife.”

Chuckling, Abby sat on the stool. “You’re such a sexist, John Stratman.”

“And you like me despite that.”

Abby’s mouth stretched into a smile. “You’ve got finer attributes I love more. I overlook that particular flaw.”

He grinned and winked at her. “So you going home to be in Susan’s wedding?”

“Yes, I am. I’m going to be her maid of honor.”

“Well,” John chortled, “just be careful you don’t go catching the wedding bouquet when it’s thrown. You know what they say, you catch that and you’re the next to get married.”

With a shake of her head, Abby whispered, “I could catch all the wedding bouquets in the world, John, and there’s only one man I’d even consider marrying.”

“Yeah, and he might as well be in Siberia.”

“Might as well,” Abby whispered. She grew quiet. It was two months to Susan’s wedding. Two months in 1987. The year hadn’t been kind on anyone, in her estimation. Especially on October 19, the stock market’s Black Monday. Abby heard the news of the gigantic crash on the radio. When she got to Anchorage last week, she immediately called Susan to see how she was doing.

Abby smiled faintly. Although every stock-brokerage firm in the U.S. had taken a beating from the plummeting prices, Susan was in relatively good shape with her clients. Her sense not to allow her customers to invest in junk bonds had paid off. With huge amounts of stock being traded over computers at lightning speed, the market reeled from the impact. Susan had told Abby, without a doubt, that a lot of people would lose their jobs, brokerage houses would fold and new laws to control computer selling would have to be established.

Picking up her book again, Abby settled back in her seat. John was heading the
Argonaut
back to Anchorage now, their job in the Bering Sea done for the season. They’d saved a lot of whales this year, and it made Abby feel good, even if her heart was broken by Alec’s leaving. Susan had been right after all: some good had come out of their time together.

Chapter Twelve

“A
BBY
, I’
LL TAKE
care of all your plants for you, I promise.” Susan gave her friend a hug and then stepped back. She handed her a large bag of books.

“There’s a
Time
magazine in there for you to read on the flight to Baja. Guess who’s Man of the Year?”

“Who?”

“Mikhail Gorbachev. Isn’t that something?”

It was, but all Abby could think about was the other Soviet citizen she loved.

“And let’s see, what else did I put in your CARE package? Oh, yes, several good books—
Indian Country
by Philip Caputo,
Beverly: an Autobiography
by Beverly Sills, and
Bernstein: a Biography
by Joan Peyser. I know your love of the arts and politics, Abby. You can read these books on board the
Seafarer
in your spare time.”

“You’re the greatest,” Abby said, thanking her. She’d always been a voracious reader.