It Takes Two. Joanne Michael

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СКАЧАТЬ no bother. Besides, it’s my own fault for getting her here in the first place. Can I give her a little piece of doughnut?”

      “Sure, and if you do, I guarantee you’ll have a friend for life.”

      “In that case, here’s one for you, too.” Marc handed Abby a doughnut before he pulled a chunk off his own and handed it to Figgy, who downed the morsel in one gulp.

      “One piece is enough for you, okay?” Marc said to the dog.

      “Yes, now lie down,” Abby commanded.

      Looking from one to the other, Figgy lay down directly at Marc’s feet, keeping a watchful eye for any crumbs.

      Satisfied that Figgy was not contemplating another sneak attack on Marc’s bag of doughnuts, Abby sat back and enjoyed the fresh pastry and hot coffee.

      “Now I’m doubly in your debt,” she said, licking the last of the glaze from her fingers. “Dog lover and provider of treats.”

      “All in a day’s work,” Marc said loftily.

      “What a morning. First I wasn’t sure if I was even going to make it onto the ferry and then the whole thing with Figgy—”

      “No reservations?”

      Abby shook her head. “I guess you didn’t have any either. I mean, you were behind me.”

      “Nah, I don’t bother. I can usually pretty well guess my odds and what time I should get in line. Even then, it’s not worth breaking a sweat over. There’s always another one, right?”

      Abby laughed. “That’s a healthy attitude.”

      “So, where are you headed?” Marc asked.

      “Tadoussac. It’s on the north shore, about ninety miles west of Baie-Comeau.”

      “Yeah, I know.”

      “Are you from Québec?”

      Marc nodded. “Born and raised. What brings you to Tadoussac? On holiday?”

      “No, work.”

      “No kidding? Doing what?”

      Abby smiled and had to consciously force herself not to feel for the well-worn envelope inside her shirt pocket. She had read the letter so often it was now committed to memory:

      Dear Dr. Miller, it is with great pleasure that the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute informs you of the board’s decision to fund for a period of one year your research into the effects of noise pollution and related human contact activities on the social behavior of beluga…

      “Hey, you still with me?” Marc asked.

      “Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking of how lucky I am. I’m going to be a visiting scholar based at the research center for marine mammals. Do you know it?”

      When Marc didn’t answer right away, Abby added, “It’s right in Tadoussac.”

      “I know where it is.” Marc’s tone had lost some of its earlier warmth. “So, what, you’re a scientist or something?”

      “Actually, yes.” No doubt about it, his attitude toward her had cooled several degrees.

      “Great,” he said, “Just what we need.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Never mind,” Marc said, standing. “I’d better get back inside. Enjoy the rest of the crossing.”

      Abby felt confused by his sudden leave taking. “Okay, I will. Thanks again for all your help and for being so nice to Figgy.”

      “Sure,” he said, stepping over the dog. “See ya.” And he was gone through the hatch.

      A SCIENTIST, Marc thought in disgust, sitting behind the wheel of his Jeep as he watched Abby and her dog get into her car and wait with the rest of the passengers for the ferry to dock at Baie-Comeau. It figures. Would he have stepped in like that to plead her case to the ferry worker had he known? Her brake lights flashed as she keyed the car to life. He sighed. Probably. Wasn’t often he’d seen a woman that pretty on the Matane to Baie-Comeau run. Check that, he’d never seen a woman that pretty on the ferry.

      Up on deck, in the bright light of the morning, she’d looked even lovelier than she had in the ship’s gloomy interior. Complete natural beauty, he had thought, without a bit of makeup on her. He’d gotten a good look at those eyes before she had pulled on her sunglasses and saw they were an attractive shade of hazel, a perfect match to the coppery brown hair that framed her face.

      Oh well, Marc thought, as he followed her off the ship and into the terminal lot. It had been worth a try. He knew he must have appeared terribly rude when he had made his abrupt departure, but he’d been afraid he’d have said something he’d regret had he remained.

      It was stupid and irrational; Marc knew that. The woman had nothing to do with the situation in which he now found himself. It wasn’t her fault that several years ago some politician had listened to some scientist who had sounded the alarm about the state of the province’s fish populations. With the help of some highly paid lobbyists, the government had crafted the laws and regulations that had put Marc’s father and many of his friends out of the fishing business for good.

      Those laws had come down as decrees from on high, with no opportunity for the fishermen to plead their cases. No, Marc recalled bitterly, one day their businesses were solid and the next they were told the quotas for the following season had been slashed, with some species put off limits completely. It had devastated the North Shore fleet and, Marc was certain, contributed to the heart attack that had claimed his father not long after.

      Where were those scientists now? Now that unemployment was at an all time high. Where were their studies, their results and reports? No doubt they were off saving some other species at the expense of jobs and families.

      Looking at his watch, he saw that he had a half hour to kill before his delivery was due at the marine supply warehouse. Making a right out of the lot, he drove toward the twenty-four-hour Tim Hortons doughnut shop just up the road. Good a place as any to pick up on some local gossip. It’s a shame, though, he thought as he again pictured Abby in his mind. Too bad someone that good looking has to be a scientist.

      ABBY HAD ONCE READ that the route along Québec’s North Shore between Baie-Comeau and Québec City was one of the prettiest in Canada. As her car crested a hill that offered a panoramic view of the Saint Lawrence Seaway, she could easily see why. To the south, the Seaway was a wide, brilliantly blue plane as far as the eye could see. Each small town or village through which she passed was more quaint, more charming, more picturesque than the previous one. The distant mountains to the north were covered in dense spruce and fir and the closer rolling vistas of farmland and rocky knolls were almost enough to push all thoughts of the mysterious Marc from her mind.

      Almost.

      After his hasty departure, Abby had remained on her bench, puzzling over his strange behavior until, like Figgy, she had succumbed to the ferry’s steady rocking motion and fallen asleep. СКАЧАТЬ