Tess didn’t want to give Brittany more reasons to think of her as someone immune to serious relationships, but she wasn’t about to proclaim the opposite, either. She decided to keep her thoughts to herself. For now, at least.

  She pulled a dress from the rack and held it up for Brittany. It looked like a pair of denim overalls, but with a skirt instead of pants and embroidered red flowers on the bib. White long sleeves and a collar were sewn onto the denim. “How about this?” she asked.

  “For what? Herding cows through an Alpine village?”

  Tess held the dress in front of herself and pulled the skirt out to one side, as if she was about to curtsy. “For dates with your girlfriend.”

  Britt gave a snort of laughter and tossed her hat at Tess’s head. “Are you purposefully trying to break us up?”

  Yes. “Of course not,” Tess said, hanging the dress back on the rack. “You laugh now, but you’ll be back for it once you’re fully assimilated into the Forks community.”

  Brittany shook her head, still grinning at the imagined look on Cammie’s face if Britt showed up for a date wearing anything resembling overalls. The plaid shirts and thick sweatpants she was planning to buy wouldn’t suit Cammie’s tastes, either, and Britt would definitely not wear the earflapped hat when—if?—Cammie came to visit. Unless it was really cold, of course.

  Britt got up and dumped her clothes into Tess’s arms. “Here you go. I think you’ll be more useful as a shopping cart than as a fashion consultant.”

  She walked over to a wall of socks and chose the thickest, warmest looking pair. How many pairs should she get? One? Twenty? She stared at the overwhelming number of wooly, multicolored socks and felt the now-familiar sense of unreality slide over her, disconnecting her from her surroundings until she felt as if she was watching a show instead of experiencing the shopping trip in person. Cammie was the trigger this time, but any number of reminders of the life she had left behind would do the same thing.

  They had spoken on the phone several times. Stilted, awkward conversations in which Britt was unable to clearly articulate what she was looking for in La Push. Cammie never gave her an ultimatum, but Britt heard one in every sentence she spoke. Britt knew she had plenty of options when it came to her future even though she didn’t know what to choose right now. But when it came to Cammie, Britt had only two choices. She could return to Seattle and act like normal, whether at her old job or in a new one, thereby giving their relationship a chance. Or she could continue her course and make drastic changes to herself and her way of life, reducing her chance of remaining with Cammie to somewhere near nonexistent. There was a ticking clock on the decision, too, because Cammie wouldn’t wait around forever. She’d already mentioned nights out with friends, conversations with other women from work, and Britt hadn’t even been gone a week. Cammie’s life was moving forward on its regular schedule while Britt had interrupted hers abruptly. She struggled to take a deep breath. If she couldn’t make a decision about her future and her girlfriend, how could she decide how many fucking socks to buy?

  She was building toward a full-blown panic attack when Tess jostled her back to reality. She pulled the socks out of Britt’s clenched fist and hung them up again, selecting a pair of emerald-green ones instead.

  “These are just as warm, but not as bulky, so they’ll be more comfortable. Plus, they’re better at wicking moisture away from your skin, which is helpful if you spend a lot of time in the rain or near the ocean, and both are givens if you live around here.”

  Britt wasn’t sure how much of her inner turmoil had been obvious in her expression, but Tess’s voice had been less playful and quieter than before, almost soothing. Britt reached out with a hand that was only slightly shaky and took the socks.

  “Thank you,” she said, covering the sock advice and Tess’s friendliness with one simple phrase.

  Tess bumped her with her shoulder. “See? I’m more than a shopping cart.”

  Britt smiled, firmly back in Forks again. She added a half dozen pairs of the green socks to her pile of clothing. “You truly are. My ears and toes will be eternally grateful for your fashion tips.”

  Tess paused, as if considering her next words, before saying in a rush, “I’m a good listener, too, if you ever need to talk. I really just mean talking, since you have a girlfriend, and I’m not suggesting anything…you know…inappropriate, or not in public.”

  “Well, I appreciate you not suggesting anything not in public,” Britt said, repeating Tess’s odd phrasing and smiling when Tess blushed.

  Tess rubbed a hand over her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, and thank you,” Britt said, careful not to go beyond simple gratitude and ask for Tess’s phone number or for a public meeting for coffee and a chat. Not because she doubted Tess’s words—she seemed to be honestly offering a friendly ear without any strings attached—but because Britt was tempted by the endearingly and awkwardly presented offer. She’d never cheat on Cammie, of course, but she felt the void of having no friends or family to talk to about her thoughts and options. Hours of making lists and debating with herself about her career and future were lonely, but necessary right now, no matter how much she’d rather her days were filled with friends and her nights were filled with sex. She couldn’t allow herself to picture Tess fulfilling either one of those roles. Tess had put the ball in her court by extending an offer of friendship, and Britt had to intentionally let it drop.

  “Well, okay.” Tess cleared her throat and shifted the clothes back into Britt’s arms. “I should get to the grocery store and back home. I’m glad we ran into each other again.”

  “Me, too,” Britt said. She had been planning to go buy groceries while she was in Forks, as well, but she decided to change her plans and stop by La Push’s tiny market on her way back to the cabin. She wanted to roam the grocery aisles with Tess, making jokes and having fun. She wanted to spend time with Tess more than she should. Instead, she would put on her new hat and socks and about four layers of clothes and walk on the beach until she froze the image of Tess’s beautiful eyes and the warmth of her smile right out of herself.

  Tess put the hat back on Brittany’s head and tugged on the earflaps. “Bye, Britt,” she said.

  “Bye, Tess.”

  Chapter Seven

  Tess aimed her car south and breathed a sigh of happiness as she left Forks behind. She pretended she was heading back to Olympia and home for a few glorious miles, until she turned onto the small road leading west toward the coast.

  She hadn’t been able to get away from the house for over a week except to go to the store, and the stress of life there was exhausting. Every attempt to help her dad had been a struggle at first, turning even the simplest tasks into argumentative ordeals. After each barrier was breached, however, it became part of their daily routine. Now her dad took his pills when she reminded him, he ate the food she brought, and he let her support him whenever he needed to leave his bed. Still, he would fight each new step as a matter of pride, and she expected a battle tomorrow when they had to begin doing the physical therapy exercises his doctor had prescribed.

  Tess turned south again, crossing onto the Hoh Reservation. As annoying as her dad was, she knew she would be an equally difficult patient. She hated to admit it, but she had inherited his stubborn pride and independence. Sometimes the only thing keeping her from running out of the house and going home was understanding how hard it would be if she was in the same situation herself—forced to have her parents taking care of her because she was injured and helpless. She would hate it, too.

  She had found ways to cope with her exile, and the week hadn’t been as terrible as she had expected. Spending time with Justin was great, and part of her was already sad that he’d be left behind when she finally was free to go. She’d have to convince Kelly to let him visit her in Olympia, and she vowed to make more of an effort to visit him. Tess and her mom had gotten along fine, but they had so little in common that meals and evenings were largely spent in a reasonably companionable silence, neither wanting to say something wrong and break the fragile sense of peace.

  Even though Tess hadn’t seen Britt since the clothing store, she had been on Tess’s mind more than was comfortable. During her brief excursions around Forks, she was constantly on alert for the sight of a Lexus or a glimpse of Britt walking along the sidewalk. During the silent meals at home, she spent most of her time wishing she was able to have conversations with Britt about something, nothing, anything. And especially at night, in her old room, enveloped by the sleepy creakiness of the old house, Britt was there. Then her imaginary interactions with Brittany had less to do with talking than with fantasies of exploration and silent connections.

  But Britt had made it quite clear that she wasn’t interested in what Tess had to offer—not a casual fling and not even friendship. So Tess made a determined effort to forget about Britt. When she spotted her car, Tess immediately turned in the opposite direction. When Britt was too present in her thoughts, she’d initiate conversations with her mom about innocuous topics like crocheting, or with Justin about the infinitely more interesting dinosaurs. And at night…well, sometimes her efforts to put Britt out of her mind were more futile than at other times.

  Tess nearly missed the turnoff for the Hoh Marine Center, but no one was behind her and she was able to back up and get on the private road. She parked in the lot next to a dilapidated pickup and an ancient Volkswagen, both rusty from age and constant exposure to salty sea air. The Center was made up of a square building with several additions that didn’t match the main unit in either color or architectural style. Each new wing looked like it had been designed on a whim, by a different person, and the result was rambling and lopsided. Tess got out of her car, drawn to the sea, and walked past the building and out to the water, where a Zodiac and a large fishing boat bobbed in the waves.

  The Center was located in a deep inlet, protecting it somewhat from the battering ocean waves. Instead of a beach, the shore was lined with huge basalt boulders, and the tide was just going out. Tess dropped over the side of a cement retaining wall until she was standing just above the waterline, on a rock still wet from high tide. A bed of rockweed waved at her like hundreds of tiny hands in the retreating sea. Tess bent down and reached into the water, moving aside a few fronds of the seaweed and exposing some little conical limpets and curling snails stuck to the rock underneath. She ran her fingers gently over a bumpy limpet shell, feeling the strength of its muscular foot as it pulled back from her touch. She carefully covered the creatures again and stood up, wiping her hand on her jeans. She spotted an otter a few yards out to sea, performing its ritual of ablutions in the surf. It rubbed its face thoroughly with its front paws before swirling around and dunking itself in the water. As soon as it resurfaced, it began scrubbing again. It shook its head, fluffing out its brown fur and twitching its whiskers as it noticed Tess watching.

  She laughed happily, watching the small acrobat twist and turn in the water. She hadn’t been back to the ocean since meeting Brittany in La Push. At first it had been because she was needed at home, but after the clothing store she hadn’t wanted to run into Britt again and possibly have her unaccustomed awkwardness reassert itself. And once she figured it was safe to go back—surely Brittany had been driven back to Seattle by boredom after a few days spent in the lonely little town and her freezing-cold cabin?—she couldn’t face going to the beach and not seeing her there. None of it made sense to Tess. Brittany had been on her mind longer than most women spent there.

  Now Brittany was back home, most likely, and Tess’s dad was improving a little and could do without her for part of the day. The ocean was hers again. She waved good-bye to her otter friend and clambered back up to the parking lot.

  Tess went to the front door of the Center and stepped inside. A small, empty desk sat to her right, and a coatrack and fake potted plant, thick with dust, were on her left. Pamphlets on tides and marine animals were scattered in messy piles across every surface. The place felt deserted.

  “Hello?” A door led from the reception area and into a long hallway. Tess looked both ways, unsure where to find actual people. She opted for going to the right, careful not to trip over the three-inch rise that must be where one of the additions connected to the main building. She found a kitchenette with a dorm-room sized fridge, several more fake and dusty plants, and a coffeepot that was opaque from hard water stains. She absolutely did not want to look in the microwave. She was sure it had years’ worth of spills inside.

  She went back toward the front door and continued along the hallway in the other direction, stepping up again at another join in the flooring. At the end of this route, she came into a large, open room. The walls were covered with charts and maps interspersed with posters advertising marine conferences and rock concerts from the past three decades. Books and skeletal bits of sea creatures battled for space on sagging shelves. Several radios were playing at once—one with classic rock music and the others with updates on whale sightings along the coast and the inside passages of Puget Sound and Canada. A fourth speaker relayed sounds that must be coming from an underwater microphone in the bay outside.

  Tess felt a wave of homesickness as the familiar sights and sounds washed over her. The lab was very similar to her own at Evergreen College, although hers was much cleaner and busier with a constant stream of students coming to study and work. It was good for her to be in a place like this, where she could get back to the research that gave her life meaning and the passion that filled her soul. Lately, she had been focused on unproductive passions—the passion for avoiding family closeness and a growing passion for a woman who didn’t reciprocate the feeling. Here, among the charts and photos of killer whales and the radio voices of other like-minded enthusiasts, she could finally be herself. She easily picked out individual discussions from the cacophony of sound, and when she heard someone call in a sighting of her J pod whales, she moved closer to the desk where the radio was sitting.

  A young woman—barely older than Tess’s students—stood up suddenly and yelped when she saw Tess standing right by her desk. Tess startled, too, and nearly knocked over a tall lamp that was inexplicably unplugged and standing in the middle of the room.

  “Hey,” Tess said, righting the lamp and gesturing toward the foyer. “Sorry to startle you, but no one was at the front desk, so I came back here.”

  The woman looked in the direction Tess indicated with a small frown, as if she had forgotten they had a reception desk at all. “Oh, yeah. We don’t get visitors much, so no one sits out there. I was cleaning some coffee I spilled under my desk and didn’t hear you. Um, we don’t do whale watching tours here.”

  She sat at the desk and turned her attention to a chart of whale sounds. She was wearing one of those knit hats, with cat ears and ties hanging longer than her straight brown hair, that Tess thought had gone out of style years ago unless the wearers were under the age of ten. She said she had been cleaning coffee, but she hadn’t emerged with either an empty cup or dirty paper towels. Tess added the underside of the woman’s desk to the inside of the microwave on a running list of places she didn’t want to examine up close.

  Tess sighed and started again. “I’m Tess Hansen. I teach at Evergreen, but I’m on sabbatical in Forks for a few months, and I was wondering if you needed any help while I’m here.”

  “Tess Hansen? The Tess Hansen?” A man who looked to be in his forties came out from behind a rack covered with large yellow rain slickers. Had he been hiding back there, waiting for her to leave? These two didn’t seem accustomed to much socializing.

  “Well, I consider myself the Tess Hansen, but I’m sure there are others.”

  “Jake. Jake Fisher.” He came over and shook her hand enthusiastically. “Melissa, this is Tess Hansen from Evergreen College.”

  Melissa had grabbed a book off one of the shelves—remarkably quick to find the one she wanted amidst the mess—and looked at the back. Tess groaned inwardly as she recognized the green cover and the title Fading Song.

  “It is you,” Melissa said, looking from Tess’s picture to her and back. “Will you sign this for me?”

  “Hey, it’s my book,” Jake said.

  Tess felt awkward from the attention. This out-of-the-way marine research center was one of the only places in the world where she would be considered a major celebrity based on her work, and she wasn’t accustomed to being singled out because of her book.

  “So I guess we can use the book as my résumé,” she said, trying to make a joke and ease the intensity with which they were staring at her. “I don’t suppose you have any openings for part-time help?”

  “We wish,” Melissa said, propping her hip on the edge of the desk and hugging Tess’s book to her chest. “We’re studying the communication patterns of a pod of offshore whales right now. When we can find them on the open sea, that is. We sure could use your help comparing their songs to those of the Southern Residents.”

  “But we can’t pay much,” Jake said. “Well, not anything at all. The Center is pretty much broke.”

  Tess had been ensnared from the phrase offshore whales. She really could use a paycheck and she didn’t have time to spend doing volunteer work, but she was hopelessly lost once she heard about the opportunity to study the offshore orcas. Little was known about them compared to the residents and transients that lived, bred, and fed closer to shore. Maybe she would learn something she could use to help in the continual—and seemingly futile—quest to save her local pods.

  “Hey, what about the new grant?” Melissa asked.

  “Ooh, yes. A grant. Tell me more,” Tess said. She had been about to offer to pay them for the chance to hang out at their Center, but this was even better. She was nearly as good at getting grants as she was at getting dates. Well, not counting Britt. She didn’t help Tess’s stats, especially since she had rejected her twice so far. Tess definitely wouldn’t ask a third time, either for friendship or a date. Probably. She winced and turned her attention back to Jake and away from her admitted weakness for making a fool of herself in front of Britt.