He must think she was crazy. Except that she knew him. Knew he must have wondered the same thing. “But don’t some calls occur more often in some circumstances, such as resting or socializing?” she said.
“True, but so far no one has established a definitive connection between call type and behavior that would suggest certain calls had a specific meaning.”
“Yes, I know,” she said heavily. Her idea was too far-out.
“However, I don’t think it’s impossible that we’ll eventually be able to decode their communications,” he said carefully. “You’d have to listen to their sounds in the context of their daily lives and closely monitor behavior. Given the limited scope of an honors thesis, maybe you should confine your study to one small aspect of killer whale communication. In that context, I would support such a project if that’s what you’re interested in.”
Was she interested! But wait. This was her degree they were talking about. The opportunity for which she’d scrimped and saved for seven years. If she blew her honors thesis because Spencer agreed to what someone else on her supervisory panel would consider crackpot research, she wasn’t sure she’d have the heart, or the resources, to try again.
“Have you got funding to do this type of research?” she asked. Spencer, she knew, never hesitated to go out on a limb, but if the Natural Science and Engineering Research Council was willing to believe in him, she supposed she could.
“I don’t have funding of any kind at the moment, but you’ll have access to Doc Campbell’s grant money.” He grinned, showing white, slightly overlapping front teeth. A smile that had once thrown her heart into palpitations. And still did. “Sometimes you’ve just got to take a chance, princess.”
Princess. She’d almost forgotten that detestable yet somehow endearing nickname. “My name is Meg,” she reminded him severely.
“Sorry,” he replied, looking totally unrepentant. “Not very politically correct of me.”
“It’s hard to adjust to us not both being students—to you being a prof and me being under you.” Meg immediately blushed at her choice of words.
Spencer swiveled to the window as though he wanted to leap out. “It feels strange for me, too. Can we just skip the professor-student thing and be two people interested in killer whales? The way we used to be?”
Was that what they used to be? “Sure, I guess so.”
“Good.” He spun back. “Do you still have your kayak?”
“Yes, but I haven’t used it in a while.” Like seven years.
“Get it out, check it for leaks.” Spencer got to his feet. “We’ll pay a visit to Kitasu and the rest of her maternal group. Are you doing anything tomorrow? We could catch the early ferry to Saltspring, drive up to Southey Point and paddle out from there.”
“I—I don’t know,” she said, rising. She’d have to ask Patrick to take Davis to day care in the morning. She’d accounted for afternoon care but not for earlymorning starts.
He gazed at her quizzically. “Mornings bad for you? I suppose you’re working.”
“No. Yes. It’s just that I need time. I have things to...arrange.”
“Okay, but we really should get in a preliminary look-see before classes start and things get busy for both of us.”
She turned to walk out ahead of him. “What will you be teaching—Marine Mammals?”
“Yes. Plus a unit of first-year biology and a course in the philosophy of science. It’s a graduate-level course, but you’re welcome to sit in on it.”
“I’d like that.”
“It’s in the evening. Wednesdays.”
“Oh. Evenings are hard for me, too.”
He paused a beat. “Are you married, Meg? Or living with someone?”
“No!” It was so not what she’d been afraid of his asking, she jumped. And probably looked guilty as hell, anyway. “Are...are you?”
He shook his head and laughed. “Me? Not likely.”
Of course not. How could she be so foolish? More foolish still that the news he was free made her heart go flip-flop.
“Can we leave the kayaking till Saturday?” she asked. Patrick would be on maneuvers all weekend, but this Saturday was the Uplands Garden Club open house and garden sale. Her mother would be busy from early morning till evening, which meant her father, who avoided the annual event as he would a plague of aphids, could look after Davis. He didn’t get many opportunities to spend time with his grandson, but when he did, he jumped at them.
“That should be fine. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock.”
Uh-oh, complications already. “My kayak is at my parents’ place. You know where that is.” She started to back out of the office. “I’d better run. I’ll see you Saturday. Bye.”
She left without waiting for a farewell from him. She’d learned not to.
WHEN MEG GOT TO the ring road, instead of turning toward Esquimalt and the California-style bungalow she shared with Patrick, she pointed her Toyota toward Cadboro Bay Road. If she hurried, she had just enough time to drop by her parents’ house to check out the kayak before picking up Davis.
Stone gates guarded the entrance to the parklike estates of Uplands. Meg rubbed her temples as she drove through, aware of the tension already starting to mount. She hoped her mother wasn’t home. Helen never lost an opportunity to inform Meg that dropping out of university at the age of twenty-one to become a single mother had ruined her life. What Helen really meant was that Meg had ruined her life. Oh, the shame of having to tell her garden club friends that her daughter lived in Esquimalt. God forbid she would ever consider visiting her and Davis there.
Meg had learned to live with her mother’s disapproval, but what really hurt was the way Helen couldn’t warm to Davis. She was a control freak, and Davis was someone she couldn’t control. Rather than learn how to deal with his behavior, Helen shunned his company. It was hard for her little boy to understand. And harder still for Meg to forgive.
She turned into the long curving driveway flanked by a high box hedge. It was all so clichéd it would have been boring except that this was her family. She missed the big Sunday dinners with her three brothers and their families and the holiday gatherings she now avoided because she couldn’t stand having to constantly defend her life. Or to protect her son from feeling slighted by his grandmother.
Thank goodness for Daddy. He wasn’t terribly happy with the way her life had turned out, either, but at least he tried to let her live it her own way. And although he’d never thought Spencer good enough for his only daughter, he loved his grandson and treated him accordingly.
The elegant white three-story house came into view, afternoon sun glinting off the mullioned windows. Meg pulled up in front of the portico and got out She glanced at the conservatory but couldn’t see her mother’s slim figure moving among the plants.
Daddy was home, though, practicing his putting on the side lawn, his salt-and-pepper head bent in concentration. Meg waited till he’d made his shot, then called out. Roger McKenzie’s handsome face broke into a smile. Dropping his golf club into the bag, he strode across the lawn to envelop her in a hug. “Meggie! How’s my little girl?”
“Twenty-eight and all grown up,” Meg teased as she hugged him back.
Roger glanced hopefully at the car. “Is Davis with you?”
“No. I just came from the university.” Dam, why did she go and open that line of conversation?
“Have they