Back at the cove, Clay is trying to adhere to something that resembles a regular routine. These efforts are often met with resistance by an uncooperative mind. He doesn't want to keep thinking about his missing men. It is where his brain goes once he isn't focused. His frustration weighs upon him like an anchor.

Worry had always been one thing Clay did well. No one had to tell him, while Ivan was leaving, he had a considerable amount of worrying ahead of him. What Ivan told him meant eventually Clay would need to find a way to assure Ivan's safe return to him.

Clay thought he was taking care of Dylan by sending him off to the South Pacific for a summer of diving and filming with his friend, Logan Warren. By solving the most immediate problem, he created a bigger problem that he was paying for now.

Sending Dylan away had been a mistake.

He managed to keep a grip on his feelings about Ivan. He'd rejected the idea Ivan might not come home. He'd see him again. He'd see him again if he had to go get him. That's all there was to it.

They'd come too far to give up now. Clay had no idea of what to do or how to do it. He'd figure it out. He depended on Harry for important stuff, but Harry had been a big disappointment on this.

As for Dylan, he couldn't shake the feeling that his son was in over his head. That was strange, since Dylan was SCUBA diving southeast of Guam with Professor Bill Payne. Clay calculated, Dylan should be having the time of his life, doing what he loved to do.

Twice in three days, Clay woke hearing Dylan's voice.

"Daddy, where are you?"

Clay refused to let worry rule his life. At least Dylan was with someone he knew was taking care of him, and without his supervision keeping an eye on him, Dylan was having a Teddy bear's picnic.

Yes, there were dangers and unpretdictable things in the water, but Dylan had been diving with him for years. His son lived a high octane life, and except for those ruins, there was little in the waters in the South Pacific that was mysterious and not in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Clay realized he'd never seen any fear in Dylan. He'd never been afraid, and Dylan reacted to that, because there was nothing to fear, and adventure was all around.

Clay was a worrywart. He knew it, but he'd been better lately. He'd worry himself to death otherwise.

With Dylan diving in the Pacific, Clay's dives were done alone. He missed Dylan's constant presence at his elbow. He realized, whatever he was thinking when he told him he could go with Bill, he wasn't thinking about how empty his days would be without Ivan and Dylan.

What seemed like a good idea, and the easy way out, at the time, had been poor planning for Clay's summer. He didn't know how much he'd miss Dylan.

He had work, speaking engagements, and a Conservancy to run, but for the first time, he couldn't keep his mind on any of it. He wasn't working. Harry knew better than to schedule speaking engagements with him in the state of mind he was in, and Peg ran the Conservancy. She always had, but he was in charge.

None of it was enough to keep his mind off his men.

By Wednesday Clay took his third dive of the week. He liked being on the water. Even on the bad days, being out on Sea Lab soothed the savage beast within. He felt closer to both of his men while he was on the Gulf. Maybe because of the wide open expanse. He could see forever on the Gulf, and maybe, just maybe, if he looked hard enough, he'd see Ivan and Dylan.

He took to diving early in the day, spending time with Taggart at the Dive Shop. He often went to get clams and eat lunch with Taggart. It was hard on him with Ivan gone. He needed to do everything.

Once he left Taggart reading something or other, Clay went to the lab. There was a daily report to write on the days he dived. Some days he even got one written, but most days not. He'd find himself looking off into space, thinking too much.

On Wednesday, after clams with Taggart, he sat behind his desk, pen in hand, and the date and time on the top of the report.

He paused in the midst of his second sentence.

He was standing beside the river a mile up the beach from the Conservancy house. There was a house here. It was built on a berm that put it twenty feet higher than the beach. It was on the south bank of the river and fifty yards or so from the Gulf.

Clay had been here before. No one ever seemed to be around. Today, he'd follow the river. He'd see where it went.

Clay had this daydream before. Lately it occurred to him more often. It marked the most important event of his life. He was powerless to interrupt it. He didn't dare interrupt it. He feared some unspeakable tragedy could befall him should he dare interrupt the memory before it reached its natural conclusion.

The report could wait. All his reports had been waiting.

There were bushes and brambles beside the river, which forced him away from the river several times. It was hot and he sweat as he fought the underbrush and kept following the meandering waterway.

Then, he heard them. There were boys laughing and talking loud. He stopped when the first boy came into view. The boy had his attention right away. He was naked. He was beautiful. He was surrounded by several other naked boys.

This looked interesting. Clay thought of himself standing among the other boys naked. That's not something he'd do.

What would Mama say?

The boys were tan and toned in a way Clay wasn't. His attention went back to the first boy he saw. He was holding a rope that was attached to a large oak tree next to the river.

The boy at the center of attention was Ivan. He stood back twenty feet from the river bank. He was tall, lean, and handsome. He was the most beautiful boy Clay had ever seen, but he and his friends back home never got naked in front of each other. Clay liked the idea.

In a flash, Ivan dashed toward the river, lifting upward as he went where the rope took him. In a second he soared above the river. When he let go of the rope, his body kept going upward. As he flew higher, he turned in mid air, until his body pointed downward. Plunging into the water in the most perfect dive Clay had ever seen.

"Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. Ivan," the boys yelled as Ivan surfaced and swam back to shore.

Boys gathered around him excitedly talking up his feat.

I could never stand that close to a bunch of naked guys. I'd embarrass myself if boys rubbed against me like they touched Ivan. No one seemed to realize how totally hot that was, and it was Ivan who made the entire deal a sexual exercise.

I slipped back into the brush before someone noticed me. I was going to meet Ivan and we were going to become friends.

Clay smiled. The scene still got him excited, even when it was all in his head. He did meet Ivan and they did become friends. The trajectory of his life changed that day. He knew he liked boys, even if he saw few naked. He'd be back to watch the boys at the river.

"Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. Ivan," Clay said softly.

The first time Clay saw Ivan Aleksa, he flew, and in that flight, he captured the heart, soul and imagination of Clayton Olson.

It was love at first sight. Clay didn't want to meet the other naked boys at the river. He wanted to know Ivan.

They'd known each other for twenty years.

The pen was on the ink blotter and the report had been pushed to one side. The daydream always left Clay smiling. He could see it as plainly as he saw it the day it happened. Ivan was gone. Clay intended to get him back where he could get his hands on him. That excited him.

Ivan was out of reach until that happened, and the daydream came on him without warning. He always stopped, watched, and remembered the rush of feelings he felt for the boy who could fly.

Then, Clay saw Ivan dribbling a basketball. It was in the junior high gym. The ball made an echoing bouncing sound as Ivan slow walked it to center court. Everyone knew what was coming. Even the opposing team expected it. Ivan arrived at center court alone.

It started softly as one or two students picked up the chant.

"Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. Ivan."

His arms and the ball came up in one fluid motion and the ball arched high in the air before it came down.

Swish!

"Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. Ivan."

The madness over scoring the winning shot grabbed the student body. Basketball was the most important thing on earth and Ivan was at the center of it all.

Ivan could fly and he could shoot a basketball. Actually, Ivan could do almost anything he set out to do. He could go to Vietnam and find his missing brother and bring him home, even if it took him ten years to do it. Everyone in the cove knew Ivan did that. No one at the cove thought he could until he did.

If the daydreaming stopped with Ivan's flight, it would have been a happy dream, but Clay knew where Ivan had flown off to, and that brought him back to earth.

Clay was so jealous of Ivan. Everyone seemed to be mesmerized by him. Everyone wanted Ivan. Clay wanted him in a big way, but everyone did. Sooner or later, he knew Ivan would find someone he wanted to be with and stay with. The thought of all those people made Clayton Olson sad.

One day, after a basketball game Ivan won with his final three-point shot, Clay knew a boy like Ivan would never be able to love a boy like him. Ivan could have his pick of any boy or girl he wanted. Everyone wanted to be with him.

As they walked toward home together, Ivan put his arm over Clay's shoulder. It wasn't a particularly warm day, but Clay felt the heat. That's when Ivan told him the score.

"It don't mean nothing, Clay. I'm a passing fancy for those people," Ivan said. "It's something to do. I wanted to see if I could do it, but it's old now."

They'd known each other a year when Ivan explained it to Clay. Ivan asked Clay to go fishing with him and his father that week. It's when Clay started sleeping over at Ivan's house. It's the first time Clay and Ivan slept nude together in the gigantic feather bed.

Yes, they did mostly sleep for a little while, but Ivan liked to hold Clay in his arms the first few months. They were young and that's all that occurred to them in those days.

"Ivan. Ivan. Ivan," Clay said to himself.

That was twenty years ago. He'd fallen in love with Ivan the day he first saw him. Why Ivan gave him the time of day, he didn't know. It seemed like it was out of a fairy tale. He could feel Ivan. He couldn't reach Ivan.

He couldn't write a report. He couldn't do anything.

He had to do something.

Harry wouldn't be home for weeks, and then he'd want to read Clay's reports on his dives. His reports were usually filled with his ideas, theories, and evaluations. They informed Harry about what his man in the Gulf was thinking, but Clay wasn't thinking.

"Report," Clay said. "I need to finish this report."

Writing again, Clay made himself concentrate on that morning's dive, now that the daydreaming was done. It was a good daydream. Clay stopped, looked at the open door of his office, seeing Ivan next to the gigantic feather bed. Ivan had a cup of steaming hot coffee in one hand, and the tube of lube they liked in the other.

"I can't decide which to give you," Ivan said.

"Put the coffee down, Lover Boy and I'll give you what for."

"What for," Ivan said in his little boy voice. "What for?"

"Give me that lube. I'm going to ride you hard and put you away wet, Cowboy," Clay said to himself as he remembered Ivan in the way they often interacted.

Ivan read Clay like a book. Ivan couldn't get enough, but Clay couldn't either. It was a match made in heaven in that respect.

Clay smiled. "God, I love you so much."

Forcing himself to stop thinking about his man, he thought of Sunshine. He hadn't visited her in a while. That's what he needed to do. She always helped him get focused. Sunshine gave him clarity. He needed clarity.

His clear writing style gave way to rambling prose with little meaning. He needed to get to the point.

What was the point? He didn't know what he wanted to say.

He looked at his hand, the pen, the paper and the words. He put the pen down.

He'd start over later.

He let go of the report, letting it float down into the trash can. He needed to move. That was it. He needed some fresh air.

After standing, he turned to look out the window behind his desk. The dunes between his lab and the Gulf of Mexico changed from day to day. The more wind that blew, the more likely he could see some change. The path leading to the top was plain to see.

How many times had he and Dylan taken the walk to the top?

You got quite a view from the top of the dunes. It was the highest point on Harry's property. They built the house out of sight of the Gulf of Mexico.

Everyone else built their houses right on the beach. Harry's grandfather built his house nearly a mile from the Gulf. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the place where he lived. He remembered a particularly bad storm from when he was a small boy. It altered the coastline for as far as the eye could see.

No more storms that powerful came ashore there during his lifetime, but sooner or later one would. He elected to be safe and not challenge Mother Nature.

Clay headed for the front door. He wanted to go outside. He stopped to breathe fresh salt air before heading for the path that would take him to the top of the dunes.

He was going to talk to Sunshine. That always cleared his mind.

He found the perfect stone. He needed to buy the stone that marked his wife's place. He turned toward Sunshine's monument and smiled. It was so her.

He remembered the first time he saw it. It was Sunshine. He never regretted making payments on it for the entire time he was in college. He didn't blink when the man told him, "It's $5,000. We have some less expensive stones over here."

Harry would have gladly bought it, if that's what Clay wanted, but Sunshine was his wife. He'd buy her the stone he wanted for her. Everyone who looked upon the monument knew how much this woman had been loved.

Wife, Mother, Friend, she meant a lot to the people her life touched. Her final act, give Dylan life, forfeiting her own. A woman can have no greater love than that. She understood that Dylan was destined to leave a large footprint behind him. He needed to be born.

Clay pulled up the straw that grew at the base of the obelisk.

He sat facing the epitaph,

Sunshine Olson, Mother of Dylan, Wife of Clayton.

He got a chill when he read it. He bowed his head, placing his right hand on the cool stone.

"Hi, Sunshine. I miss you. Your son is in the Pacific Ocean. He's diving with my college professor. I told you about Bill. You'd be so proud of Dylan. He's so tall and handsome. He's taller than me now. He looks just like Ivan," Clay explained.

"Our boy will be 15 this month. You didn't live for two months after his birth. Where does the time go, Sunshine? I feel old. It was such a long time ago."

"Ivan's gone. No, not the kind of gone after you two conceived Dylan. Actually, I guess it is like that. He's back over there. Bad people have him, Sunshine. I do love him so much. He told me he may not be coming home. It's not that he doesn't want to come home. He told me, if he doesn't come home, he die trying to get back to me. He wouldn't have told me that if he didn't fear it, Sunshine."

Clay looked up at a royal blue sky and out at the green waters of the Gulf. It was the most beautiful spot in the world. He breathed in the fresh salt air. He tried to organize his thoughts.

"When he told me that, I took it surprisingly well. You'd have been proud of me. I didn't want to upset him more than he was already upset. They forced him to leave the place he loves and the people who love him. I pray he'll come back to me every day, Sunshine."

"I cry when I think about not seeing him again. I love him so much. You understood that kind of love. You understood me and you kept me safe, and I miss you. Anyway, your kid is in the Pacific. I let him go so he didn't see Ivan leave. I'm still trying to keep things under control. No, that hasn't changed. I've always got to try to do something. I need to do something about this."

"I'm sorry I let Dylan go. It's the first time we've been away from each other for more than a day or two. I went with him last summer, so I know he's safe, but I miss him. Maybe it's a good thing he doesn't see his father like this. If something happens to Ivan, Dylan will take it hard. I might not survive. I've got to do something."

"Both of my men are out of reach. I'm a mess. How are you, Sunshine? I wish you were here. You died so young. I feel so old."

Clay cried when he thought of all the years that had passed since he'd been with Sunshine.

There was always a breeze in the afternoon. Even on the hottest day, this spot was made pleasant by the Gulf's breezes. Clay stood and looked toward the far horizon. It was a beautiful spot.

When Harry heard of Sunshine's death, he'd said, "I know the perfect place where she can keep an eye on you, Clayton."

It was perfect.

Harry was like a second father to Clay. He shouldn't get mad at Harry, but he was mad. Something needed to be done and it needed to get done right away. Harry was the only one who could do it.

Clay went back to his office in the lab and wrote his report. There was some focus and he managed to write down the most important elements of that morning's dive.

He picked up the phone, punched the line to get him out of the Conservancy, and he dialed Harry's number.

"The senator please."

"Who can I say is calling?"

"Clayton Olson."

"Mr. Olson, the senator isn't available at the moment. Would you like to leave a message."

"Yeah, tell him I'm going to keep calling until he talks to me."

"Yes, Mr. Olson. I'll give him your message."

The phone went dead. Clay laid the receiver down on his desk. He wanted to rip the phone out of the wall. He fought that urge. He might need to use the phone later.

The last time they talked, Harry told him, "I'm working on it."

Clay didn't remember what he'd said. He'd been yelling when Harry hung up on him. He didn't know what he was yelling about, and he hadn't spoken to Harry since. It wasn't the first time Clay ranted and raved at the senator.

He was the only one with the power to do something. Clay needed something to be done. His frustration grew. There would eventually be an explosion if Clay didn't lose his mind first. That's why he needed to do something, even if it was wrong.

He wasn't so angry that he didn't call Harry every day. He did. Harry wasn't going to forget he was waiting for him to do something.

Harry couldn't talk about what he had in the works. He couldn't talk because there was nothing to say. He'd been searching military contractors to find one he could trust and who would go get Ivan. It wasn't a secret what Harry was up to and the director dropped by his office one day.

Harry needed to go to the floor. The director sat across from him smirking. Harry wanted to wipe it off his face. The first director he met one on one, scared the shit out of him. He wasn't sure he'd survive that meeting. Harry was a new congressman then. He was a senator now. He didn't scare so easy.

Harry knew the director showing up unannounced was a threat, but it was a different ballgame these days.

"You're playing a game you can't win, Harry. Those contractors are in my pocket. Ivan is doing a job and you need to back off."

"Mr. Director, I've got to be going. You do what you need to do. I'll do what I need to do. Remember this, if I want Ivan, you think I can't get him? You have a nice day now, you hear."

It was all Harry could do not to have him thrown out of his office. That son of a bitch had a lot of nerve, but he was messing with the wrong senator. Harry already had senators aligned to challenge the director's budget. They'd hold up his agency's funding until the director appeared in front of the budget committee, and Harry was going to grill him about Ivan Aleksa.

Harry was a little more sure that day because he'd met the man he thought would lead the team Harry authorized to go get Ivan. They'd met once and the man impressed Harry. He had a call into Mr. Alexander of the Minute Men, and his secretary said he was anxious to have a meeting ASAP.

July was a waste and Harry knew he had to do something before he went home on August recess. He did not want to go home and face an irate Clayton Olson. He had too much work to do and a campaign to run. He needed Clay with him not against him.

By the time Harry was arranging his first meeting with the head of the Minute Man military contractor, Clay had decided that he could organize men who would go to get Ivan and bring him home.

It sounded a little crazy, but he no longer cared how it sounded. Ivan was in trouble. It was up to him to go get him.

Clay thought about Ortiz. He'd been a marine. He'd talk to Ortiz and see if he could hire men to go get Ivan. Ortiz knew about Ivan because McCoy briefed him on the case they worked on together. The private detective might want to make some extra money.

Clay had money. He would spend it all to get Ivan back, but if Clay had to go get Ivan, Harry was going to pay, and that had nothing to do with money.

On Friday, after his dive, Clay stopped at Peg's desk before going to the lab. She looked up at the forlorn marine biologist.

"No, he didn't call. Yes, I'll put him right through if he does call, but he won't call. He'll let you know when he has a plan."

Peg sounded angry, because she was in the middle between a United States Senator and his man in the Gulf. She didn't like it.

She wished that she could help Clay. She knew he couldn't help himself, but she had work to do and a Conservancy to run.

*****


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