The Dolphin Survey – Part 2: Slack Tide

"I would like that," said Ingrid, softly. "Very much."

The kiss was salty and sun-warm. Teresa's hand rose to her face, brown and rough from rope, and Ingrid laughed and slid her arms around her neck. The boat rocked gently. A last dolphin surfaced alongside, puffed once and slid away.

"She approves," whispered Teresa.

"She's been watching for three weeks."

"They always know."

They stayed anchored in the quiet cove as the sun slipped into the sea, cooking fish on the little stove, drinking cold white wine from the bottle. The stars came out in thousands. The only sound was the lap of water and the creak of the hull.

"There is a cabin," said Teresa. "Below. It is small. It has a bunk and a porthole."

"Show me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

The cabin was tiny and warm, with a narrow bunk, a lamp on a hook and a round window full of stars. They undressed slowly, laughing at sun-stiff shirts and stubborn buckles, and under the blanket their love-making was gentle, unhurried and tender, with the boat rocking like a cradle and the sea sighing against the planks.

At dawn the cove was pink and still. Ingrid woke to the sound of splashing and climbed on deck. A pod of dolphins played in the shallows, leaping in the early light. Teresa stood at the rail with a mug of coffee and a grin.

"My contract ends Sunday," said Ingrid.

"The survey runs until October. Funding is approved for two researchers."

"Is that so?"

"I wrote the application last night." Teresa handed her the coffee. "I put you down by name."

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