Epilogue - Part 1
Three months later
It was the end of the Antarctic summer season and with it came the end of all research projects.
Every year research stations bustled with life at the start of austral summer, filling with scientists, engineers, tradespeople, pilots, medics, and support crews.
For a few brief months, isolated buildings became crowded communities full of active projects and people.
Then the season closed before austral winter could begin.
As a continent that had no native population, Antarctica was unique in that every year, the majority of the people returned home, leaving behind only a skeleton crew at the research station—the brave men and women who would weather the harsh winter and keep the buildings running.
Our ship was heading back to the continental States, but first we were making a stop at Waypoint to collect the skeleton of the humpback I had discovered, and to collect the man who had become the center of my universe.
Light snow drifted across the deck, where I stood near the bow with my gloved hands wrapped around the railing and watched Waypoint Research Station grow larger as our ship approached the shoreline.
The wind caught the flurries and swept them sideways over the rail, where they vanished into the dark water below.
A full-size ship was already docked beside the station.
My gaze swept over the cluster of orange corrugated buildings Garrett had called home for years.
There was a flurry of activity underway.
People dressed in the signature heavy red parkas known as Big Reds crossed between the station and the ship, looking like little red ants scurrying about amidst the white expanse.
“Is that the barge that will carry your skeleton?” Keith asked from beside me, pointing his gloved hand towards the big ship.
A broad, low platform floated alongside the vessel. A crane moved cargo from the land onto the ship’s deck, but the platform was empty, and nothing was currently being loaded onto it.
“I think so.”
“I didn’t realize what a logistics nightmare it would be to transport the skeleton back to the States.”
“Neither did I.” I brushed the snow from my face.
“I feel so stupid now. I was so focused on getting it to the surface. When Garrett explained the scope of the task—transporting an eighty-foot skeleton, without disturbing it, over thousands of miles across the ocean, I thought we would never be able to take it back. Even towing it to Waypoint seemed herculean.”
“Your boyfriend has truly impressive skills. That container he designed was a genius move.” I felt pride sweep through me as he continued talking. “I’d pictured the skeleton being raised on some kind of platform. I thought we would all get to see it emerge from the depths.”
I chuckled. “So did I. When Garrett explained that he planned to cover up the whole thing, sediment and all, inside his custom container, right there on the ocean bed, I was shocked. But then I realized it was the only way to make sure it doesn’t get damaged.”
“Yeah. At that time, though, we were bummed. Instead of seeing the skeleton exposed, what we saw was like raising a coffin. We didn’t even get to see what it looked like before it got sealed away.”
“You will, though, once it’s cleaned up, thoroughly studied, and ready for display.”
“I can’t wait. Do you know how old it is yet?”
I shook my head. “I’m waiting for the results of carbon dating. It takes a few weeks. We sent the sample in January so I should be getting the results any day now.”
“What about the museum? Which city will it end up in?”
“They are working on figuring all that out. I’m just the scientist.”
“Whose name will be immortalized.” Keith bumped my shoulder. “Imagine thousands of people over the next decades visiting the museum and seeing the skeleton hang from the ceiling and then finding your name beside it as the one who found it.”
“Not just mine.”
“Oh right. Your boy too. You’ve essentially science married him.”
“Sod off.” I blushed.
“Speak of the devil… there he is.” Keith raised a hand.
My heart stumbled.
A lone figure stood well away from all the movement, away from the dock and ship, away from everyone.
His face was obscured by the heavy fur-lined hood and the falling flurries, but I knew the breadth of those shoulders.
I knew the way he planted his feet wide with that confidence as though neither wind nor ice nor the shifting earth beneath him had any authority over where he stood.
He was facing our ship.
Facing me.
I watched as our ship drew closer, the distance between us narrowing so slowly it felt almost cruel.
Around me, the deck came alive. Crew members began moving into position for docking, checking lines, preparing equipment.
Onshore, people lifted their arms and waved. Men and women around me waved back.
My own hand felt too heavy to raise.
Garrett did not wave either.
It had been two months since I had last seen him.
The reality of our work had made the separation unavoidable.
Once the recovery project was complete, we had traveled to Waypoint.
Garrett had returned to the station and the skeleton was stowed in a safe location behind the station until we knew how to get it out of Antarctica.
The solution had been the custom-designed barge.
It was built and assembled in the States and towed to us by the ship that was currently being loaded.
After dropping Garrett and the skeleton off, our ship had left.
I went back to following Lady and Junior across the ocean, recording the extraordinary journey of watching the calf grow beside his mother.
During the day, there was work—the endless accumulation of photographs, movement records, vocalizations, feeding behavior, and observations that made every hour feel valuable.
At night, alone in my cabin I missed Garrett with a force I had never anticipated.
I had believed I understood what it meant to miss something.
When my family left London, I missed it fiercely during those first months in the States.
I missed my favorite pastries, my friends, the streets I knew, even the damned rain.
Later, when I left home, I missed my parents, especially mum’s hugs and seeing her face every morning.
Every time I left Antarctica, I missed the continent itself.
I missed the ice. I missed the immense silence.
I missed Lady. And I’d thought I knew what to do with this feeling.
I was so very wrong.
These past weeks had taught me that missing the person you are in love with is an entirely different experience.
So many nights, sitting on my bed, I cried like a little boy. I didn’t even tell Keith. I told nobody about it because, truth be told, not many people would understand the intensity of my emotions. After all, we had just met.
But my heart knew. My heart had always known what it loved. The first time I read Moby-Dick as a boy and realized how much I hated Ahab and sided with the whale, I knew that I was going to become a whale researcher.
I was head over heels in love with him. When Garrett told me that he had found a home in me, he was talking for both of us.
Some days, I would ache so much for his touch that it felt like a physical pain in my chest.
“Hey.”
Keith’s voice came from my side.
“You okay? Nate? Why are you crying? Tell me those are happy tears.”
I smiled and quickly wiped my face. Apparently, I was crying and didn’t even know it. Keith put an arm around me and gave me a squeeze as our smaller ship docked at the station with a soft thud.
“Oh, damn. Go meet your man.” He raised his voice. “Hey guys, let Nate get off first. He’s about to lose it.”
I turned from the deck railing and ran down the gangway that had been lowered to let people disembark. I didn’t care if people were judging me, watching a grown man behave like a silly teen.
Garrett waited for me, away from the hub of activity.
His arms came out from behind his back and opened at his sides in a silent invitation.
As I rushed towards him, through the falling snow, over the slippery ground, I could finally see him clearly.
He wasn’t smiling. His face was a mask of emotion so fierce it bordered on a grimace.
I crashed into him full speed and he absorbed the force of it with only a stumble. He caught me against him, and then I was bawling against his chest. I think a cheer went up from behind us, but I clutched at him, unable to stop the waves of emotions pouring out of me.
I felt his warm breath against my temple. Then soft kisses from frozen lips rained down on me—over my cheeks, nose, hair, eyelids. “Welcome back, sweetheart.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and captured his mouth.
I was home.
My cowboy kissed me back in that delicious possessive, hungry, and crushing way of his. It went straight to my dick. I couldn’t help but push my groin into his. He groaned into my mouth. The little noises he made were like a drug to me. But we were in a very public area.
I broke our kiss and booped our noses. “Missed you so much, handsome.”
Finally, a smile made its way onto his face.
“There ain’t words for what I went through.”
“Yeah.”
Little white puffs drifted around us, catching on Garrett’s hood and melting against my skin. He wiped at my tear-streaked, snow-dampened cheek with the tip of his glove. “Lady and Junior okay?”
“Yep. Thriving.”
“You doin’ good?”
“Now I am.” I smiled up at him, my heart bursting with affection and joy.
“Good.”
We stared at each other. How had I gotten so lucky to land this stud of a gentleman? Albeit with some temper issues. “What about you? Yelled at anyone lately?” I teased.
He wiped my other cheek. “Dexter says folks been avoiding me.”
I snorted. “Why?”
“The last few days of waiting have been rough, Nate.”
My poor man had been grumpy because of me. My heart turned into a puddle of goo.
“Oh, love. Me too.”