“Saying I love you—it’s like a promise,” Spencer told Meg Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication ACKNOWLEDGMENTS PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN EPILOGUE Copyright
“Saying I love you—it’s like a promise,” Spencer told Meg
“But making promises I can’t keep is worse than any lie.”
“Cant or won’t?” she asked bitterly.
“I don’t want to stay in one place. I don’t want a house in the suburbs. It’s all too safe. Too much sameness. The monotony, the boredom scare me.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said.
His hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. “I’ve never forgotten you, Meg. I dream about you. When I was in California I’d look up at the night sky and think, these same stars are shining down on Meg. When I was on the water, I felt the ocean currents connecting us even though we were apart. When we’re together, I want to be with you. I want to make love to you....”
The ache inside her was part physical need, part emotional connection that defied time and logic. But could she handle a relationship on his terms? Yes, she could, she would, yes, yes—
Davis. She’d forgotten what her involvement with Spencer could do to her son...their son, though Spencer still didn’t know it. Her blood cooled Her eyes opened. She pushed on Spencer’s shoulders, clumsily trying to move him off her.
“I can’t do this, Spencer.” Another meteorite blazed across the sky and was gone. “I’ve had enough. Please take me home.”
Dear Reader,
Before I became a writer, I was a marine biologist. Although Spencer’s Child is a fictional story with fictional characters, I drew upon my experiences living and working on the west coast of British Columbia to give it authenticity. I never studied killer whales, but in researching this book I’ve learned so much about these wonderful animals I almost wish I had one.
Through the Vancouver Aquarium, I became the proud adoptive parent of Takush, a northern resident killer whale. The names of the whales Spencer and Meg work with are taken from records of whales identified on the B.C. coast, although the whales don’t all belong to the same pod in real life.
As for my characters, Spencer is one of my favorite kinds of hero—a brilliant but flawed loner, untamable and unattainable. Loving such a man could haunt a woman all her life—especially when she’s borne his child. It was a great pleasure for me to create a heroine, Meg, whose vulnerability is balanced by inner strength, and whose abiding love ultimately heals Spencer and brings them together, forever, with all the joy they so richly deserve.
I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Joan Kilby
Spencer’s Child
Joan Kilby
To my father, for instilling in me the belief that I could
accomplish anything I set my heart on and making sure I had the discipline to achieve my goals.
And to Nan, for giving me the gift of time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Volker Deeke for sharing his expert
knowledge in the field of killer whale bioacoustics and for patiently answering my many questions.
Meg Pocklington (who has the same name as my heroine
purely by coincidence!) of the Vancouver Aquarium was of great assistance in helping me gather information on killer whales.
Any technical errors are mine.
PROLOGUE
MEG PEERED THROUGH her microscope at the marine polychaete curled on its side in the petri dish. With one hand she held open the identification guide to marine invertebrates of the Pacific Northwest; with the other she used a probe to count the bristles arranged in paired sets on each segment. She’d almost finished when the chair next to hers scraped back and someone dropped into the empty seat.
Her concentration broken, Meg glanced up. And her heart beat a little faster.
Spencer Valiella. His brown hair was long and unkempt, as though permanently ruffled by the wind that blew in off the Pacific. He wore khaki pants and a faded black sweatshirt with the sleeves cut out. On the crest of his tanned biceps rode the tattoo of a leaping killer whale.
No one knew much about Spencer. He was a loner. Also a fourth-year honors student here at the University of Victoria and reputed to be brilliant. Yet not the kind of boy her parents would approve of. But she’d noticed him around the building, found him wildly attractive and now he was sitting right beside her.
“His,” she said. “I’m Meg.”
“Spencer.” Barely glancing her way, he hauled his beat-up leather satchel onto the table and began to rummage inside.
Her gaze slid back to the killer whale tattoo. She’d been fascinated with the sleek black-and-white marine mammals ever since she was eight years old and one had leaped straight out of the water not fifty feet from her father’s cabin cruiser. She’d gone into biology with the sole intention of studying