When I imagined Brooke Williams, I had been expecting someone a bit taller and older. I hadn't forecasted a petite, young woman with a inquisitive gaze. She couldn't have been any older than myself, probably only a few years older than Mary and Nick.
I sat in the cabin of the Solomon II, watching the rise and sinking of the water as the wind blew across the harbor. While Mary prattled on about Native American totems, Nick made us hot cocoa. The smell of chocolate hung in the air, mixing with the salty wind. It masked the bitter smell of the sea water as its sweet scent drifted to our nose. In spite of the continuous rocking of the boat and the heavy moisture in the air, I felt calm and relaxed. I could just curl up in my seat and listen to the waves slide against the boat, creating an eternal song, mixing with the smell of chocolate.
"I'm from Washington State University," Nick explained to me as he set the warm mugs on the table, "I'm majoring in biology."
I wrapped my hands around the mug, breathing in the sweet smell. "So do you think you might want to study orcas when you graduate?" I asked.
Nick shook his head, "Nah, it's a lot of work studying marine life. They don't leave tracks for you to follow. It's almost impossible for you to study them."
Mary sipped her hot cocoa loudly, producing a bubbly sound that couldn't have been that different from the filter of a fish tank. "Nick's an under achiever. I think it's just 'cause he's dead scared of 'em fish."
"First of all, Mary, I am not an "under-achiever". And in my defense, that salmon had something against me!" Nick protested, trying to defend himself. Mary cackled in amusement, nearly spilling her hot cocoa all over her jacket.
Mary and Nick were childish, pulling each other's hair on purpose. It was as though there was a merry war between them, continuously going on and on. There would never be an end to that war, because neither side would admit defeat. It was quite amusing watching them bicker back and forth, and I couldn't help but conceptualize a plot for a film containing their regaling conflict.
"Mary, so what do specialize in?" I canvassed.
Mary grinned, "Cetology of course! I don't like to brag, but I'm Brooke's right hand woman!"
"That's if she had a right-hand-woman," Nick commented dryly. He stood up, crossing his arms, and leaned against the wall. "If you're her "right-hand-woman", doesn't that make me her "right-hand-man"?"
Out of the blue, a familiar dog padded into the cabin. His tongue hung out of his mouth in a wide grin, as he tackled me out of the chair I was sitting in.
"Captain, off!" The woman from the hiking trail appeared in the doorway, her arms folded to her chest. Her hair was pulled up into a high pony-tail, waving in the sea breeze like wind chimes.
Captain retreated to the corner, sitting at Nick's feet. The owner looked me up and down, with a twinkle in her eye, "Well then, long-time-no-see."
___________________________________________________________________
Brooke hadn't expected to see the man from the trail again, like most strangers she met. Strangers were people you spoke to only once, but never twice. They would never cross your mind again, not that they didn't matter. They just didn't make a difference in your life. But then sometimes they did, and those strangers weren't strangers anymore. They became friends.
"So you must be Keith Armstrong," she said smoothly, letting the words fall off her tongue, "I'm Brooke Williams."
Keith looked bewildered, clutching the mug of hot chocolate in his hands. "Plot-twist!" Mary cooed, "How awkward!"
Nick turned to Brooke, as if to say when, where, what?
Brooke tightened her collar, "You're the guy that asked me about tourism hot-spots."
Keith nodded, "Yes, that would be me." He slid his hand through his hair, rippling the dark locks, "So your the famous Brooke Williams?"
Brooke smiled, "Yes, it happens I am. And I assume you're the film guy sent by Thompson?"
"Yes. I am here to film the orcas." Keith answered. He didn't look like a Californian to Brooke, at least not one she had ever seen. His skin was too sun-burned, not extremely tan. On top of that, he wasn't shivering despite the temperature.
Brooke perched on top of the seat across from him, the chair Nick had sat in, "Why so stiff, Armstrong? Let's start filming some orcas!"
YOU ARE READING
Breaking Down the Wall
ParanormalKeith Armstrong hadn't known what he was getting into when he agreed to make a documentary about the Southern Resident Orcas in Puget Sound. It was supposed to be the simple task of making a wildlife film promoting conservation. He had no clue that...
