Sea Change

By Chris Quinton

Injured on duty and no longer fit for active service, soon-to-be-ex-Coast Guard Bran Kaulana is drifting, filling his days helping out at the Wai Ola Rescue Center, one of Honolulu's wildlife charities. He's working with the new veterinary, Steve Lucas, a British man drawn to O'ahu by his fascination with dolphins.

As their friendship slowly deepens into something they never thought they’d find with another, the two men are caught up in the mystery of injured seals and dolphins, a ruthless gang of smugglers and a not so dormant undersea lava vent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Quinton
• Release date: Jan 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463866979

Chris Quinton

Chris Quinton  Chris started creating stories not long after she mastered joined-up writing, somewhat to the bemusement of her parents and her English teachers. But she received plenty of encouragement. Her dad gave her an already old Everest typewriter when she was ten, and it was probably the best gift she'd ever received – until the inventions of the home-computer and the worldwide web. Chris's reading and writing interests range from historical, mystery, and paranormal, to science-fiction and fantasy, writing mostly in the male/male genre. She also writes the occasional male/female novel in the name of Chris Power. She refuses to be pigeon-holed and intends to uphold the long and honourable tradition of the Eccentric Brit to the best of her ability. In her spare time [hah!] she reads, or listens to audio books while quilting or knitting. Over the years she has been a stable lad [briefly] in a local racing stable and stud, a part-time and unpaid amateur archaeologist, a civilian clerk at her local police station and a 15th century re-enactor. She lives in a small and ancient city not far from Stonehenge in the south-west of the United Kingdom, and shares her usually chaotic home with an extended family, three dogs, a Frilled Dragon [lizard], sundry goldfish and tropicals

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Dedication

To the Usual Suspects – as always, thank you for your support, nags, kicks in the arse,

copious amounts of tea, beer, wine, and encouragement.

You make writing even more of a pleasure.

A lot of people helped me with this story, supplying encouragement, invaluable information on O’ahu and the Hawaiian language and culture, constructive criticisms. Heartfelt thanks to: Tray, Eva, Pat, Elva, Jean, Reshela, Sue, and last but not least, Josh.

Chapter One

The hoist whined, swinging the canvas-wrapped body out over the catamaran’s stern. Luckily, the sea-swell was slight and Bran braced his feet against the rear of the diving shelf, flattened his hands on the wet fabric and locked his muscles. The background ache in his thigh and hip became a hotter pain, but he ignored it. Right now, he couldn’t afford the distraction. The last thing they needed was for this to go wrong and with fading light and unfamiliar equipment, that was just what could happen. The loaded sling swayed with the sea’s motion and he gritted his teeth as the inert weight threatened to shove him back.

Keep her headed into the waves! he yelled over his shoulder.

I’m trying! Anna shouted back, and the catamaran wallowed for a few moments while the girl juggled the controls. Wave crests glowed phosphorescent in the dusk, shimmering away from the twin prows as the cat turned once more into the wind.

A convulsion rippled through the powerful form trapped in the canvas. Tension thrummed under Bran’s hands and he swore. Shit, he’s coming out of it! Matt was suddenly at his side, helping to keep the sling from swinging in over the deck. Lower away! It dropped a couple of feet, nearly dragging the two men off their feet. More! Bran ordered, and then gave a final call. Release! The hook snapped open, the sling unfolded and dumped its now wide awake cargo into the water. Vin grabbed their belts to stop them falling after it.

Vin’s yodeling whoop would have stampeded cattle in his native Texas. One down, he said. Two to go. Then we party. God, I can taste that kalua pig now!

Bran didn’t answer. Out here, half an hour off O’ahu’s shore, learning the foibles of the catamaran he’d collected only a few hours ago, he felt alive. Ashore, it was as if he lived a half-life. But he didn’t give himself a chance to brood on it. There were two more Monk seals to return to the sea, and the tranquilizer clock was counting down.

The rest of the operation went smoothly. The last seal disappeared under the waves and Bran took over the wheel, leaving the rest of his team to relax in the stern. He turned the Sun Dancer toward the island, only half-listening to the jubilant conversation going on behind him. Ahead were the sparkling lights of Honolulu and Waikiki, and Bran was sure he could smell the tropical perfume from the gardens and hillsides. It threaded through the ozone and he drew it in through his nose and mouth. It tasted green, vibrant, and his pleasant buzz of a successful mission was intensified.

I’m calling first shower, Anna announced. Vin can wash my back.

Fine, Bran said over his shoulder. You want to go next, Matt? Facilities at the Wai Ola Rescue Center were pretty basic and he was in no hurry.

Sure. I’ll give you a hand putting the slings out to dry while the lovebirds go and play.

As long as they don’t play for too long, or there won’t be any food left for Vin. Bran smiled.

No sweat. Matt chuckled. I’ll just flush the head. A blast of cold water will do the trick.

There was a brief scuffle and a shriek from Anna as she tried unsuccessfully to tip Matt into the water. Since he was a foot taller than her five-three, she failed. Nor would Vin help. He just pointed out that throwing a Lieutenant Commander overboard was not the way a Junior Lieutenant got ahead in the US Coast Guard. Matt’s promotion was new enough to still be the cause of ragging among his friends.

Bran let the banter wash over him, concentrating on the sea and the steady beat of the powerful engines driving them toward the shore. In another instance of sheer irony, his own promotion to the same rank had come through while he was still in the hospital, and it was a bittersweet achievement. The Coast Guard wasn’t going to be his life for much longer.

* * *

Anna and Vin’s shared shower was quick, and Matt was an old hand at fast ablutions. There was plenty of hot water left for Bran and he took his time. The spray pounded across his shoulders, as good as a massage on muscles still feeling the solid weight of the seals in their slings. The sense of accomplishment was equally gratifying.

Six months on from his injuries, Bran was as physically fit as he had ever been. He could swim, surf and scuba-dive. He’d rejoined Hui’s Gym, had started to play the occasional game of squash when Hui was free, had gone back to playing golf occasionally. Yet that wasn’t good enough for the Coast Guard. Other people’s lives could depend on his level of fitness and neither he nor the Board would take chances. Tellingly, Hui had suggested that he drop karate and take up aikido instead. There simply wasn’t the mobility in his left hip anymore.

But getting his ass into gear and looking for another career was a step too far. He knew it would have to be done but the mental impetus was hard to maintain. Drifting with the tide was simpler. PTSD, his friends would mutter when they thought he wasn’t listening. Only to be expected.

Koa? There was a crisp rap of knuckles on the bathroom door and Connie Albright’s rich contralto kicked him out of the zone. He didn’t know if he were relieved or resentful. It’s getting late and they’ll be waiting for us. You ready to go, honey?

Give me a minute.

Okay, I’ll be outside.

He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, scrubbing the worst of the water out of his hair. He dried himself off roughly, hurried to his locker in the communal restroom and dressed quickly. White boxer-briefs, white shorts, and subdued dark blue and white patterned shirt. He pushed his bare feet into sandals, tugged a comb through the tangles in his thick black hair and joined Connie on the lanai. Ready, he said with a smile.

About time. Connie hugged him and he returned the embrace. Then he held her at arms length.

You’re looking fine tonight, he said.

Hey, we’re celebrating. That calls for fancy threads. She stepped back and gave a model’s stylized twirl, showing off her long scarlet and yellow sarong, and the matching hibiscus in her corn-row braids. The colors glowed against the burnt-coffee darkness of her skin. The others have gone ahead, said they’d wait for us in the parking lot so we can make our triumphal entry all together. But she made no move to leave, just stood there with her hands on his forearms, gazing up at him. "Mahalo, she said quietly. Thank you. When the Sea Life Park told me their veterinary unit was in quarantine, and we’d have to rescue and treat the Monks ourselves, I never thought we’d be able to do it. We wouldn’t have done it without you, and now you’ve up-graded just in time to help us out again."

I was going to anyway, Bran answered with a casual shrug, uncomfortable with her gratitude. So it made sense to do it when we needed it.

I’m old enough to be your mother, Connie said crisply. So don’t give me that bullshit, Brandon Makoaikekai Kaulana. It was a measure of her seriousness that she used his full name. You’ve got an SUV collecting dust in your garage back home, and I’ll bet good money you haven’t taken it out more than a couple of times since way before your Gulf tour. You bought your other pickup when mine broke down and we needed to get that calf up to your cousin Marvin’s place. Now this. Technically, Marvin Almeda was his cousin-in-law but either way he was family.

"Well, you let me keep the Nautilus in your boathouse rent-free, and I’m hoping I can do the same with the Dancer, so this is the least I –"

Bull, she interrupted. Shit.

Yeah, well, it would have all been for nothing if Matt and Vin hadn’t come along to lend a hand, he said, steering away from the subject. She’d known him since his childhood, so she’d be aware that it wasn’t just altruism on his part, and that he didn’t want to talk about it. We could have done with Steve out there as well, he continued, remembering the newcomer among their group of friends. There were some tricky moments and it took serious muscle to get the job done. But it’ll be easier next time, when we’re more familiar with the equipment.

That’s for sure. Connie let him off the hook and he breathed a sigh of relief. Steve tried but he had an afternoon of surgery booked and he couldn’t get away. Besides, Anna was the veterinary on Wai Ola duty today. But it had to help that Vin is built like a brick outhouse. Think it’s why she picked him?

Maybe. He’s an okay guy, but he’s no Steve Lucas. I’d have thought she and Steve were the perfect couple.

That’s because you’re a man, honey, Connie answered, and gave him another swift hug. They are too much alike, and they’re far better off as friends. How are you holding up? Anna said it was rough out there and you were limping when you came in.

I’m fine, he said dismissively. The leg is sound, it just aches sometimes when I make it work a little harder. That’s all.

"Uh-huh. Just aches. Okay, kāne nohea, she continued. The Chili Truck is awaiting and so is the luau."

Then we better go before they send out search parties, Bran said and offered her his arm. She took it with a happy smile and they walked out into the swiftly deepening tropical night to the parking lot and the pickup. Bran did not limp.

His new pickup had only two drawbacks as far as Bran was concerned. It was red. Very red. That was embarrassing to his basically conservative soul. Even more embarrassing were the gold and black flame decals that blazed along its flanks from front to rear. That afternoon, Anna’s whoop of delight at her first sight of it and her appreciative, Wow! The Chili Pepper Pickup! said it all.

Bran had the uncomfortable feeling the name was going to stick. If he hadn’t needed the damn truck so urgently, Hannibal would have had time to re-spray it. But the drawbacks were minimal compared to the four-door cab, four-wheel drive, sound long-bed chassis and an engine with a sweet growl. And, most importantly, the hoist and winch combo already fitted in the back was powerful enough to lift a large water- and creature-filled container with ease.

The truck and the catamaran had taken a chunk out of Bran’s capital. That didn’t bother him. When his Medical Separation lump sum was added to his savings and investments, the interest would give him enough income to live comfortably, if not extravagantly. He wouldn’t have to touch the remainder of his inheritance. Money was the one thing he didn’t have to worry about, thanks to his grandmother.

The luau was a different matter. It was a regular quarterly social event that Bran had always enjoyed, before he lost Joel.

The scars, both physical and emotional, were slow to fade. Bran had the feeling they would be with him for a very long time.

Chapter Two

Here you go, Steve. Jana Toloa presented him with a chilled beer along with a kiss and a lei of bougainvillea and fragrant white plumeria. She shared the reception desk at the Sea View Veterinary Clinic on the upper edge of Downtown Honolulu, and had become a good friend. Happy six month anniversary, honey, she continued, adjusting the garland around his neck. Still hooked on O’ahu?

Yes, he said, smiling. I like it here. He popped the tab on the can but didn’t drink straight away. Instead he gazed around at the scented purple night and the luminous curl of the surf on pale sand. I like it, he repeated softly.

She laughed. I’ll take that as a typical British understatement, shall I?

Steve shrugged, his smile becoming a grin. Yes, well, I suppose it is, he admitted. I’m doomed to be a stereotype, aren’t I?

If you mean poised, suave and sexy, then yes, Jana drawled, quirking a neatly drawn eyebrow. It was a mock-flirtation and they both knew it, a pleasant game they played to her husband’s often ribald amusement.

I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Matt is taller and heavier than me, and almost certainly an old hand at bar-room brawls.

You got that right, she snickered, straightening the coronet of yellow hibiscus anchored to her chestnut hair.

Sally Choy, one of the clinic’s veterinarian nurses, gave them a casual salute then went back to hovering anxiously by her husband. Ben was crouched by the fire pit, testing its contents, his shaven head glistening with sweat. He was a chef in a prestigious hotel fronting Waikiki Beach and it was his expertise that helped to make these luau memorable.

There were still some people missing, though Steve knew for certain that four of them would not be turning up for a while. He envied them the reason. The release of the Monk seals was the culmination of a difficult but ultimately satisfying rescue and much as he enjoyed the luau, he would have given a lot to be part of the finale.

Jana must have read his mind. She glanced at her watch and her amusement faded. The others are late, she muttered, a hint of worry in her voice.

Anna said they wouldn’t be here for hours yet, he said. Three trips out to Imu Rocks and back are going to take some time.

Uh-uh. Jana tapped the side of her nose. Bran had a plan.

He did? Steve said cautiously. He’d learned over the last four months that Bran Kaulana’s plans were sometimes eccentric.

Oh, ye of little faith, she mocked him gently. He didn’t want to say anything in case he couldn’t wrap up the deals quickly, but he got them all signed and sealed just in time. Hey, weren’t you were bringing that girl from the Sea Life Park?

I was, but she couldn’t make it. What deals?

Well, hell, you could manage to sound a little more disappointed. I thought she was cute.

She is, he said. Smart as well, but after a while the giggling gets a little predictable. That earned him a non-too-gentle punch on the arm.

Perfectionist. Mary and I will have to try harder next time. Forget the deals, she continued, her smile widening as she glanced around his shoulder. Everyone will find out soon enough. Patti and her latest have turned up. I must go and do the lei thing.

Patti was the other receptionist, a plump, pretty girl who went through boyfriends like a bird picking grapes from the vine. Steve waved to the newcomers and drifted away from the luau, Bran and his mysterious plan slipping from his mind. A fallen palm tree offered a seat and he sat astride it, gazing out to the sea.

The scene he’d temporarily left was idyllic. It was firelight and moonlight. It was veterinarian nurse Nani Kapiko singing in Hawaiian to the accompaniment of Ken Muramoto’s guitar. It was the melody underscored by the susurration of the waves and the sea, the scented breeze in the trees, quiet conversation and happy laughter.

For Steve, it was more than idyllic. It confirmed again something that had lodged in his blood and bone within hours of setting foot on O’ahu. He liked the climate, the way the sudden downfalls of warm rain fell for only moments and were gone, the indefinable scents of colorful tropical gardens and of the forest-clad uplands. He liked the always-changing landscape of clouds that hung over the mountains, the rainbows that arched above the mists.

He enjoyed the occasional storms that swept in from the south-west when the north-easterly trade winds dropped. He liked the people, their cheerfully relaxed outlook on life that did not lessen their sense of purpose. And he liked the apartment Ken and Mary Muramoto had found for him, a living room with a deep balcony that he was learning to call a lanai, two bedrooms and a bathroom, and a compact kitchen alcove.

The view from the lanai was of Diamond Head and the sea, framed between multi-story condos. It was spectacular and Steve had yet to tire of it. The restless itch that had driven him from job to job, from England to Florida and now the Hawaiian Islands, had given way to a hitherto unknown sense of belonging.

Giving unpaid assistance to the rescue center was an element of Steve’s contentment. He’d readily agreed to be a regular volunteer when Anna had suggested it, and his name was on Connie’s duty roster within a week of his arrival.

There was still that other restlessness, that searching for the one woman who would complete his life as he would complete hers. Steve knew she was out there somewhere, it was just a matter of finding her. That search had taken him from relationship to relationship all his adult life, just as his quest to find the place where he could put down his roots had brought him from England to the USA, and to this particular Hawaiian island. And though there had been a time when his eyes had occasionally lingered on a handsome man, that was long ago. These days his sights were firmly set on the opposite sex.

Although he began every affair in hope, at nearly thirty, Steve had started to wonder if he would ever find her. Until Hawai’i. After all, since this was the place he intended to spend the rest of his life, it stood to reason that he would find his lady here.

Steve had thought for a while that Nani’s older sister, Anna, might be the one. They’d had a torrid but short-lived affair and to his pleased surprise, their friendship remained solid when it burned out. It was the sisters who had given him the nickname Nohea, and refused to tell him what it meant.

Eventually, Jana had taken pity on him and provided the translation – ‘handsome’. Jana also started to introduce him to the occasional unattached girl, which was becoming something of an irritant. It helped that he wasn’t the only uncommitted male to be singled out. Bran suffered from their match-making imperatives as well. He’d also been gifted with a nickname. Some of their friends called him Koa, but what that meant, Steve hadn’t been told and he never remembered to ask. That would change tonight. He’d corner someone and satisfy his curiosity.

A flare of white water caught Steve’s attention and he straightened, staring out to sea. More movement, water churned, glistening dark shapes arced above the surface and disappeared in fountains of spray. There was a dolphin pod out there in the moonlight, playing like children in a pool.

Spinners, Ken Muramoto said quietly from behind him, and Steve feigned a heart-attack. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Only you were out here on your own and I thought maybe you were feeling homesick.

Not at all, Steve said. The opposite, in fact. He chuckled, waving his beer can in a gesture that encompassed land, sea and sky. All this and you pay me every month. I should feel guilty. Another dolphin arrowed out of the water, its lithe body twisting in the air in the way that had won its name. More followed it, and the two men watched the impromptu acrobatic display in silence. They brought me here, Steve murmured after a while, talking as much to the sea as his employer. Did I ever tell you that?

Not in so many words, Ken said cheerfully. He wasn’t far off sixty-six but his vitality belied it. He hitched up the baggy, garish shorts slung under his paunch and perched on the fallen tree. With his plump face under close-cropped gray hair, round belly and well-padded shoulders, he had the look of a retired Sumo wrestler. Yet despite his current outfit and the bright lei around his neck, he retained the same dignity he had when wearing a suit. The way you lit up when you talked about the work you did with MRIM said it all. That’s what got you the job, you know. Ken’s small dark eyes nearly disappeared as his grin widened. I interviewed veterinarians with more experience than you. One or two even had more skill. But you were the one with the passion for those beauties out there. I hope you stay with us for a long time, young man.

I want to, Steve answered. There’s something about Hawaii… I’d read about the islands, the atmosphere, the way people are, but I didn’t believe it. I though it was just tourist hype. But it isn’t. It’s real. The people truly are that friendly, that laid-back and accepting.

Ken nodded. Caring, he said. Doesn’t matter who you are or what you are, Hawai’i welcomes you in. Forget the mushy Disney overlay, that’s what Aloha is all about. Of course, he went on with a laugh and a shrug, we have our share of losers and crooks but on the whole, it holds true. So you feel you belong here?

Yes, he said with quiet conviction. More than anywhere else. And the friends I’ve made – it’s as if I’ve known them all my life.

Ken’s rolling belly-laugh filled the air like the benevolent mirth of a Buddha. Aloha, Steve, welcome home. And dealt him a slap on the back that nearly knocked him from his perch. The pig will be coming out of the fire pit any time now, and the real eating can start.

They strolled back to the fire and Steve discovered that the late-comers had shown up a lot earlier than he’d thought possible. Anna was arm in arm with Vince Carter on one side and Bran on the other. She was clearly very happy and pleased with herself. On Bran’s other arm was Connie Albright, her dark face glowing with delight. Standing with his arm around Connie’s shoulders was Matt Toloa, the tallest man among them. His craggy-jawed grin stretching wide, teeth showing white against the red-brown of his skin. Then Jana arrived to put leis around their necks, and Matt scooped her off her feet and kissed her.

Success, then. But how had they managed it? The initial rescue had been a wild ride out beyond Makapu’u Point to Imu Rocks, a mad scramble to get each of the injured seals from their refuge to the boat and then back to the Center. When they had brought in the last one, Steve had thought it was on the brink of dying. Anna and Ken were already working on the first two when he, Matt, Vin and Bran carried in the motionless body. Seal and men alike were covered in blood and there was no examination table free for Steve to work on. Bran had spread a heavy-duty waterproof sheet on the floor and that was where Steve had knelt over the seal and fought for its life. It had been hours before he could be confident he’d won.

Ken hammered a wooden spoon on the nearest table, gaining silence and attention. Before we start the luau proper, he announced, I think Connie has something to tell us.

You better believe it, she said, raising her voice so that the rich, throaty tones sang over the sea-sound. This evening, with the help of these three hunks and Anna, we have finally managed to get our trio of Monk seals out to Imu and released back to the sea. A cheer went up and fists punched the air. "My thanks to everyone who helped treat their injuries and nurse them back to health. And especially to Koa. Wai Ola couldn’t have done it without any of you. And that includes Koa’s new toys, the Chili Truck and the Sun Dancer."

That won another whooping chorus and a round of clapping. I thought Bran had to take them out one at a time, Steve said, grinning. Last week he said it’d be midnight before they’d finish.

Jana heard him and turned round. What did I say? she said, laughing. He had a plan!

"He upgraded to the Sun Dancer, Nani told him, her eyes alight. But he couldn’t collect her until this afternoon. They managed to get all three containers on board and still have just enough room for Anna and the guys. And wait until you see the Chili Pepper Pickup! It is so hot! The man is a treasure and I adore him."

She was almost incandescent with joy and for a moment, Steve forgot to breathe. Both sisters were gorgeous. They had the dark eyes and long black hair of the stereotypical Hawaiian girl but where Anna was statuesque, Nani was small-boned and slender. Like Anna, she was wearing a bikini top, with a short sarong wrapped around her hips, flower leis, a crimson hibiscus in her hair, and could have stepped out of a holiday brochure.

Steve chuckled. If I had a pound for every time you said that, I’d be able to retire.

Dollar, Steve! You’re in O’ahu now, not cold and rainy England.

England? His chuckle became a laugh. Where’s that? Don’t think I’ve heard of it. But he was distracted. The scent of pork and sweet spices suddenly washed through the air, and someone turned on a CD player. Quiet Hawaiian music played in the background while everybody congregated around the tables to queue patiently while the pit-roast pork was shredded.

Chapter Three

With a plate of pork from the kalua pig, leaf-wrapped bundles of steamed chicken and of fish, small mounds of poi and thin-sliced sweet potato, Steve retreated to the far side of the now blazing fire pit and sat cross-legged on the sand. This was the third Sea View-Wai Ola luau he had attended, and he wouldn’t willingly give up the chance to be on this private beach with the people who had so quickly become close friends.

His first had been the one thrown to welcome him the night before his first working day, a somewhat mind-blowing experience. Somehow, he’d had the time of his life and managed to remain sober enough not to be hung over the following morning.

What one Harry Lucas would have made of it, he couldn’t begin to guess. He had a stormy relationship with his father at the best of times. Every so often, it escalated into outright verbal conflict and, as usual, those clashes were caused by Steve’s inability to stay long enough in one place to build any kind of a career.

Eight years ago, Steve had graduated from Nottingham University with his degree and started work in his father’s veterinary practice. After less than two years, he’d applied for and got an interview for the job in Bradenton, Florida, and left England behind him. Harry hadn’t spoken to him for nearly a year. That rift healed eventually, thanks to his mother’s skillful diplomacy, only to be reopened when he took the Miami post. That, too, had been smoothed over with time and distance, until the Sea View advert caught Steve’s attention.

To leave the prestigious Marine Research Institute for a veterinary practice in a city, even if the city was the state capital of the Hawaiian Islands, was the height of lunacy as far as his father was concerned. It was merely a replay of Steve’s previous fickleness. Immature pie-in-the-sky posturing, was only part of his loud denunciation when Steve had phoned to tell them.

Heated words had been spoken on both sides of the Atlantic and the result was no more phone calls, and no Christmas trip home last year. He’d kept in contact with his mother, brother and sister via letters and emails, and told himself the break with his father did not hurt.

Over the last six months, Helen Lucas had worked to form a truce of sorts between her pigheaded husband and equally stubborn youngest son, and had come a long way toward success. Steve’s letters had helped. They had started out as short, curt notes and rapidly escalated to pages of small details, long descriptions of the island and tales about his work and his friends. They’d also had the ongoing sagas of the more eccentric patrons of the Clinic and the Rescue Center.

Steve found he was laughing, and that Bran was approaching with a couple of cans and a quizzical expression.

Share the joke? Bran asked, offering one of the cans and folding long legs to sit beside him.

Thanks, Steve said. You’re a mind-reader. No joke exactly, just imagining my Dad here. The next time I write, I’m going to invite the family for a visit and not stop nagging until they agree. Over the months, he’d emailed photos as well, pictures of work colleagues and friends, breath-taking scenery, and a couple of himself, looking sun-bronzed and fit, even if he said so himself. Alan, Vickie and Mum would come like a shot, but getting Dad out of the country would be like trying to move the Statue of Liberty with one hand tied behind your back. But he needs to experience this. I don’t know whether he’d let his hair down and join in, or pin Ken in a corner and talk comparative veterinarian practices at him.

Or both? Bran suggested, a smile growing. A smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Although he put on a cheerful face, there was always an aura of sadness about him. Steve knew that Bran had lost his lover in a horrific accident scarcely a year ago and how their friends could think Bran was ready to move on so soon was beyond Steve’s comprehension.

That’s distinctly possible, Steve said. It doesn’t do to make assumptions, after all. For instance, when Connie told me about the Coast Guard officer who would use his pickup or boat as a taxi service whenever the Center needed it, and would be doing odd jobs around the place while he recovered from an injury, I had a picture in my head of a gnarled old sea-salt with tattoos, white hair and beard. And possibly a parrot.

No matter that Bran had that shadow of sorrow about him, his laugh came easily enough. I’ve got the tattoos, he said. Maybe I’ll think about the beard sometime and the white will come soon enough. But a parrot? Give me a break. Didn’t that African Grey nearly take your finger off last week?

He did, the mangy sod. Steve eyed him critically. No, he said. Can’t see the beard somehow. White hair, maybe. But not the beard. He remembered the tattoos, hidden now under Bran’s shirt. There was a complicated tribal design over the muscled curve of his right upper arm and shoulder, a stylized dolphin shape almost hidden in the heavy black pattern. Another abstract of dark angles and curves stretched across his shoulder blades. That, too, was a dolphin, though to Steve it had looked more like a shark. The first time he’d seen them was two months ago. Bran was working shirtless in the sun, trimming back a rampant moonflower vine, and his coppery skin was glossy with sweat.

Heat had started to curl low in Steve’s belly, reminding him that once he had not been quite as hetero as he was these days, and he had to smother an inappropriate impulse to trace the maze of black lines on Bran’s flesh with his fingertips. Or his tongue. How about an eye patch? Steve said quickly. "You’ll look like a pirate. Talking of pirates, I hear you’ve upgraded the Nautilus."

Bran nodded. Hannibal got me a good deal on a cat as well as a long-bed pickup.

Sounds great, Steve said approvingly. Does this mean you’ll be doing even more work with Connie?