Once they'd seen as much as they could take in on one trip to the bottom, Bill put the pod back into motion. Logan had stopped filming to watch. He was enthralled and he forgot his purpose for being there. As the Scorpion began moving, the camera went back to his eye as he wanted to capture the coral castle as they departed.

Returning to the Horizon, Dolf was there to hook the Scorpion and lift it out of the water. It was risky to leave it in the water overnight. After the final trip of the day it went back into storage for safe keeping.

"I need some coffee, Logan. Join me?" Bill asked.

"No, I want to film Dolf lifting the Scorpion out of the water. I filmed it going into the water, and I promised Dylan I'd develop film this afternoon once I returned. I'll see you at dinner."

Bill headed for the galley. Logan filmed Rolf operating the crane. He filmed the Scorpion being lifted out of the water. With precision, Rolf placed it back on the sled and Dolf put the craft away.

Logan headed for the film lab to start developing the day's film. Logan couldn't stop talking about his ride in the Scorpion. He'd been diving a few times but the pod was an entirely new experience.

During the afternoon Clay went to his cabin to write notes on his maiden voyage on the Scorpion. He wanted to capture the living reef in intricate detail while he was still excited about what he'd seen. He was establishing what would become his routine for the coming weeks. A couple of times a day he'd go to write in his journal while the memories were fresh in his mind.

Clay heard Dylan open the door to the cabin next door. He came to stand in the doorway between the two rooms.

"Hey, Dad," Dylan said.

"Hi, Dylan. You aren't helping Logan? Didn't I hear the crane lifting the Scorpion onto the sled?"

"Yeah, they came back. Logan's developing the film he took. It's too small in the space where he does that and developing film is a little like watching grass grow. You're writing about the pod?"

"Yeah, I am. Quite an experience," Clay said.

"It was. When are we getting one?" Dylan asked.

"Don't hold your breath, Kiddo. I don't expect Harry to spring for a submarine any time soon. We do OK with Sea Lab. I don't want anything bigger than that. I can do all my work on Sea Lab. What I can't get done on board, I do in the Conservancy laboratory."

"Will it bother you if I pick at the guitar for a few minutes, Dad?"

"If you'll sing, You Are My Sunshine for me, you can pick until your heart's content," Clay said.

"Sure," Dylan said, turning away from the door.

Dylan sat on the foot of his bed to play and sing.

Clay smiled. He wondered why he had no desire to make music.

After he played You Are My Sunshine, Dylan spent a few minutes playing the chords Logan taught him to play. Then he launched into Daisy, Daisy, watching his fingers as he did. Dylan didn't like making mistakes.

Clay smiled when he realized how similar the two songs were.

Why he'd never thought of buying his son a musical instrument, he didn't know. It never came to mind. He liked listening to music After he moved to the Conservancy house. He remembered going up to Ivan's after school and they spent the afternoon making love to the Beatles and the Beach Boys, after realizing they'd fallen in love, not the Beach Boys, Clay and Ivan.

Those were the happiest days of his life. His entire world was wrapped up in Ivan Aleksa then. He was always with Ivan in those days. He felt the emptiness when he thought about Ivan. They were separated by thousands of miles. That was only part of what he felt. His emptiness now was directly connected to Ivan's years away.

It was a difficult connection to ignore. Now they were as much in love as they'd ever been. Clay missed his man. He missed the cove and the life he had there. It was temporary and what he learned this summer would fill a journal or two. That would make their separation worthwhile.

He didn't miss Dylan. He'd have been on a plane home by now if Dylan hadn't come along. He wouldn't be with Ivan if it wasn't for Dylan.

Clay stopped writing to listen to Dylan sing softly as he played.

"Catch a wave and you're sitting on top of the world."

The Olsons were not a great musical clan once you got beyond the hymns he sometimes sang along with Mama at Mama's church.

Clay never bought into Mama's God. There was something a bit off about going to church. Preachers were a bit too sure of themselves. They lacked authenticity.

The verses he read in the bible about Jesus didn't sound anything like what preachers preached. Jesus was a man who believed in kindness, brotherhood, and unconditional acceptance. Jesus was a kind and humble soul, preachers, not so much.

Once they'd moved to Florida, Clay didn't go to church. As religious as Mama was, she only extended the invitation for her children to go with her. After being forced to go all their lives, none of the Olson brood took her up on her invitation. Lucy went with her for the first year or two, but she stopped going after that.

Lucy was the most authentic person he knew. She couldn't have missed the hypocrisy that abounded at Mama's church. They'd never been given a choice before. The Conservancy house was a different world from the one in Tulsa. All the Olsons lived with the change the move to Florida created. No one had more adjusting to do than Mama.

Clay never felt in danger of going to hell. The idea he loved a man didn't even move the needle. It was what it was and loving Ivan was about the best thing he'd done until his wife gave birth to his son. Through all the grief and sorrow, Dylan was the gift that never stopped giving meaning to Clay's life.

He stopped writing to listen to his son play and sing You Are My Sunshine again. He branched off into a melody Clay didn't recognize. He wasn't playing complicated music, but he was using the basic chords that Logan taught him. Dylan was making his own music.

Clay smiled and went back to writing.

Clay could see Dylan watching his fingers as he played. He'd been playing long enough to know he couldn't create music, but it sounded like music to Clay.

Dylan had never followed too many rules. He stopped buying him coloring books because Dylan never colored between the lines. Clay brought him drawing paper and once he told Dylan he could draw on it, Dylan created his own pictures. No one else needed to know what it was. Dylan made it up as he went along.

When Sunshine died, they'd both been left alone. Clay decided his son would never be allowed to feel like he was alone. It's the same thing Mama, Lucy, and Twila all decided too. The three women were always there when Dylan needed a tender hand.

Dylan had more love than any little boy Clay knew of, but he never knew his mother.

In the end, it was Dylan who brought Ivan back into his life. If Dylan rejected Ivan, Clay wouldn't have allowed him anywhere near his life. Ivan hurt him in a way no one else could. It was a pain he couldn't forget. Luckily it was a pain Dylan didn't have. He'd never known Ivan as anyone but the man in the picture with his father.

Dylan was Ivan's son. The only person who could keep Ivan away from Dylan was Dylan. Knowing everything he knew, Dylan still loved Daddy-O from the moment he laid eyes on him.

Clay knew that feeling. He couldn't imagine life without Ivan. The best thing that happened to Clay was meeting Ivan Aleksa. He didn't have a life beyond the Olson clan before he met Ivan. Clay's horizons expanded after he saw Ivan for the first time. Everything Clay had become came out of his love for Ivan and his desire to be with him.

Ivan coming back into his life added back the piece that had been missing. No, they didn't immediately fall into each other's arms. The went through a long painful reunion. Dylan held them in place until they could admit they were still in love. Dylan's held his two fathers together because they loved him.

When Clay reflected and wrote about his day, the meaning and wonder of it all, he couldn't avoid thinking about Ivan. His brain and heart were full of Ivan. He personified the word wonder.

This knowledge made Clay stop writing to smile and say the words that warmed his heart.

"Ivan. Ivan. Ivan."

With Dylan sitting on his bed and playing the guitar, it furnished the music for the life Clay adored. Dylan tied him directly to Ivan and that was the icing on the cake in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, eight thousand miles away from the man he loved.

Clay was cautious. He hesitated when he had doubts. He didn't want to make a false start. Before he moved, he made sure he was moving in the right direction. His work was an exact science that was filled with mystery. Dylan was more careful because Clay was careful.

Ivan challenged man-made boundaries. He set an adventurous example for Dylan to follow. Ivan knew fear as a thing he needed to overcome. Dylan needed Ivan's influence to show him there was nothing he couldn't accomplish if he decided to do it. There was no doubt in Clay's mind, Dylan approached life the way Ivan did.

Clay had a dream the night before. It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. He was being chased and he couldn't get away. Whatever it was had closed in on him. He was cornered,

Only it wasn't him that was cornered, it was Ivan.

There was something wrong at the cove and he wasn't sure what.

He put down his pen and closed the journal.

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples to alleviate the tension.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

The first dive into the Pacific required more equipment than Clay needed at home. They used full face plates that connected to the air tanks. The wetsuit covered his entire body other than his face. He'd noticed it was cool in the pod once they were submerged. The Pacific was at least ten degrees cooler than the Gulf of Mexico.

The equipment felt confining and bulky until he got into the water. Once he submerged, he hardly noticed the extra gear. Clay would live with it being annoying to get in to and out of.

Once in the water, Clay knew where the reef was and he followed Bill once they left the platform set in the water beside the Horizon for divers to use while coming and going.

The first dive of that summer's research was filmed by Logan. It would be logged as the first dive and it would be seen near the beginning of the documentary Logan had begun to create. Logan wore the same equipment and carried a camera. He didn't complain.

The depth of the water where they encountered the reef was seventy-six feet according to Clay's depth gauge. The deepest he'd allowed Dylan to dive was sixty feet. This was deeper than he liked Dylan diving. There was no way he could keep his son out of the water for the next three weeks.

He wouldn't risk discouraging Dylan. Besides, he needed to film underwater while Logan could demonstrate the proper way to do things. It was an experience he might never have a chance to repeat. He wouldn't allow Dylan to dive with them right away, but he'd give in by week's end.

Clay and Bill would dive for as long as it took to gather the information they needed to do comparisons with last year's research. Once he was comfortable with their surroundings, he'd allow Dylan to dive with them. He'd keep Dylan close for a while and then let him spend most of his underwater time with Logan.

He'd keep him on a short leash for a few days. Once he adapted to the deeper dives. Clay would allow him to assist him and to take the specimens they'd gather to the surface with him after twenty or thirty minutes. After a few days he'd be allowed to assist Logan.

Dylan was waiting until his father was satisfied with the location. He helped his father get into his gear before a dive and he was there to take his gear when he returned from a dive. His father knew what he wanted and it would do no good to pester him about it.

When his father was ready, he'd tell him to get his SCUBA gear.

The first dive was the hardest for Dylan to stand on deck and watch.

They came at the reef on a steeper angle than they did when they were in the Scorpion. The reef was larger than Clay assessed it was from inside the pod. He noticed a rather abrupt end to the reef on the side they approached from. It looked wrong to Clay. Something caused it to stop so abruptly. He would take a closer look before the final dive here. For now, he'd follow Bill's lead.

Each reef was different and a reef in the Pacific Ocean was a lot different from a reef in the Gulf. Clay was ready to see and register those differences. He would allow Bill to show him the things he wanted him to see. He'd offer Bill his best opinion on his research.

It was a little like taking a test in one of Bill's marine biology classes. It excited Clay to have the man who taught him everything he knew about marine biology to ask him to check his work. Clay didn't feel good about the prospect of reaching different conclusions.

Bill Payne was the best marine biologist Clay knew. He doubted his findings would differ much from Bill's. The idea it would scare him, because Clay would be the one who was way off base, not Bill, and he might end up looking like a fool. Being asked for his opinion could turn out to be a double-edged sword.

For Clay the size and shape of the sea life was much different than the species he encountered in the Gulf. There were bigger fish with most of the primary colors present. More than once, Clay found himself captivated by a species he'd seen in biology books but he'd never seen in the wild in fifteen years of diving.

He could have spent the first dive sightseeing, but he forced himself to follow Bill's moves and look at what Bill was showing him. They'd go diving every day for the next few weeks, weather permitting. He'd have plenty of time to see everything that was there. Especially he wanted a closer look at how abruptly the reef ended.

Clay and Bill often discussed the difference in water temperature having a major impact on sea life. Some species would react far differently than others in the case of a sudden warming of the water. The temperature of the water was an indication of the health of a reef.

With this in mind, Bill took temperature readings on the middle of the reef. He'd compare this year's temperatures with last years. Clay had a thermometer too and the reading was much cooler than in the Gulf of Mexico.

He'd document each day's temperature in his journal. What he had difficulty documenting was his feeling of being overwhelmed by the size of the sea. Simply going diving off the Horizon, a sea going ship, and the depth of the water, were dramatic changes from how he'd been diving for over a decade. Size wasn't everything, but the Pacific Ocean was huge. He felt the vastness more on each dive.

As Bill collected specimens and put them in the bag to carry them back to his lab, Clay drifted away a few hundred feet. At first it was simply to get a close-up view at the end of the reef, but other anomalies caught his attention. He wasn't sure what he was seeing.

A reef did not abruptly end. A reef became part of the environment and all its angles were gentle, blending with the other gently formed angles. There were few sharp edges to examine. The end of this reef looked like someone reached down and snapped it off.

In the distance there was something almost as large as the reef they were examining. Before he had time to see what it was, Bill missed him and had come down the face of the reef and blown bubbles to get his attention. Clay rejoined his professor but still wasn't satisfied he'd solved the mystery of the reef's abrupt end.

It didn't take long for Clay to be back near the end of the reef. Almost immediately he was in the breach between the reef where they were working and looking at what looked like it might be another piece of the same reef. It was not close enough for Clay to get a good look and he decided to go back to where Bill was.

As he turned away from the breach, Logan was filming him from a few dozen feet away. Clay pointed at what looked like another reef and hoped Logan would use his close-up camera to film it and he did.

Clay wasn't going to wander any further but what he saw told him that the two sections of reef were once joined. He looked down at the bottom before looking toward the trench. Behind the reef was a wide-open space. The water looked murky to him.

Clay calculated that the cause of a split in a reef was important. He wondered why Bill hadn't mention it. Had Bill been so involved in his research, like he was on their first dive, he didn't notice the split?

Clay was anxious to hear Bill's assessment of what he was seeing. It's why Bill wanted him to be there this summer. First Clay had to adjust to the uniqueness he was seeing in an environment that was totally new to him. It was exciting to be in a place where everything was new to him.

It could have overwhelmed him, but Clay had been a marine biologist for a long time. He'd seen startling things before but to learn the most, he needed to take things in stride. Things were more similar than different in his experiences with the underwater world.

Leaving the platform beside the Horizon after nine, it was nearly eleven when they returned. Clay took off the wetsuit, handing it up to Dolf before he climbed on deck. Both Bill and Logan kept their wetsuit on until they reached the deck.

Dylan stood nearby and he carried his father's wetsuit back to the equipment locker. After getting his air tanks put away, he went to the galley to listen to what they had to say. He didn't keep a journal, but he remembered most of what his father told him about his work.

"I've been convinced for years that a couple of degrees in water temperature in the Gulf of Mexico can make the difference between healthy happy fish reproducing in prodigious numbers and fish that are hardly reproducing at all. In the second scenario, not reproducing enough to continue furnishing the world with food," Clay explained.

"We will dive each morning on this reef for the next couple of weeks. By comparing what I found last year with the findings this year, it should give us an indication if we are looking at a deterioration or not, and to what extent," Bill said. "I intend to pay particular attention to the condition and number of the youngest in each species. We'll take water temperatures at the same time each day. I want to dive twice a day."

"Bill, the breach in the two sections of reef, have you looked into what might have caused the breach?" Clay asked.

"I don't understand," Bill said.

"It appears the two reefs were joined at one time. Something caused hundreds of feet of separation. Shouldn't we investigate it?"

"You mean that section north of where we're diving?" Bill asked.

"Yes, I looked at it. My air was getting low so I didn't get close enough to see its size or its characteristics," Clay said.

"I've never looked at it," Bill said. "Where we went today is where I've been diving. I purposely contained my investigation to about twenty yards of that reef. You think it's important?"

"I'm curious, Bill. I want a closer look. See how it compares to the section of reef you're more familiar with."

Bill needed to think about it.

"I'll keep that in mind," Bill said, not sure how he felt about it.

"Bill, when am I going to see your work from last summer? You said I'd get to read your notes and you'd explain what you found. I've seen the reef. I've seen the spectacular colors and unusual species that I don't see in the Gulf of Mexico. You can't peak my interest any more than you already have. It took over a week to get here. I've been sitting on the edge of my seat for the entire time. It's time to let me see what you've written on the subject."

"Can't keep you on the edge of your seat any longer, huh? Wait here. I'll be right back. I got last year's journals out last night. I've been reading them over," Bill said.

He got up and left the galley.

Clay already had questions, but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. To form a logical theory he needed the information Bill already collected. He wanted to know all the things Bill knew. He wanted to see everything there was to see, and then, he wanted to know why the gap in the reef was such a surprise to Bill. He didn't seem to know it was there and it was hard to miss.

Bill returned with an arm full of journals. He set them on the table, sliding them in front of Clay.

"They're in order as written. The bottom three are all typed and on typewriter paper. The one on the bottom is the book. I haven't shopped it around yet but I will after I finish transcribing this summer's research. I'm imagining two books, but I may rethink that, depending on whether or not we find anything conclusive," Bill said.

"You didn't type these?" Clay asked, feeling the weight of the book he'd just been told about.

"I hand wrote my findings and theories in each journal. Once I concluded what I had to say, two months after my return last year, I called in my secretary and she typed as I read. Incredibly fast and accurate young lady. She managed to keep up with me and in December, well, the book that came from my journals was written."

"Absolutely amazing," Clay said, opening the first journal.

In another minute Clay's nose was in the first journal in the pile.

Clay read through lunch. Dylan brought him a Ruben sandwich, chips, and potato salad. Clay read and ate. By three he was half way through the research findings from the year before.

Dylan had gone to the film lab to talk to Logan about the dive.

Clay had no opinion. He was halfway home and an opinion now would be premature. Just before dinner was ready to go on the table, Clay finished the journals. Bill's book waited to be read. Clay was sure what was in the book was what he was looking for. He'd read it that night.

Bill had come and gone several times. He'd watched Clay read and then he went back to his lab to look at the specimens they collected that morning. Once in the late afternoon, Bill went into the galley to see how Clay was progressing. Dylan sat across from his father with a root beer in front of him. Clay had a Coke in front of him. He was still reading.

Bill went back to his lab to open the package of notebooks that he used to write his daily journal. He began writing. He dated and timed the first journal entry of his 1983 research trip.

Clay's back was tired and he got up to take a walk around the deck as Greek put the finishing touches on dinner. Clay's stomach was growling. The aromas from Greek's dinner preparations were starting to get to him. Rather than rush into the kitchen and filling a plate before dinner was ready, a walk would need to do.

The air was fresh and a light breeze blew out of the southeast.

After taking the dive and sitting for five hours reading, his legs were stiff. A brisk walk was in order.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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