Page 37 of Truly, Madly Viking

"Orcalove.com is only for kids around my age, from eight to twelve. I want other young people, all over the world, to learn about killer whales. We share information, but mostly we want to increase the number of people who care about them. If we start young enough, maybe our generation will be the one to stop the killing and capture of these creatures."

"You sound like a teacher," Suzy commented from the sofa, where she was supposed to be doing homework. Instead Maggie noticed that the TV had somehow been turned on, to MTV, no less, and that singing sensation, Ricky Martin, was swinging his hips and belting out the sexy lyrics to his stellar hit song from the previous year, "Livin' La Vida Loca." Even Maggie had to stop and look and listen when he came on. Beth, too. In no way did he resemble Joe, as Beth had stated one time, but the singer was very cute.

"So what if I sound like a teacher," Beth protested. "It's important to save the orcas."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Suzy commented to her sister. "Wanna dance?"

"Oh, OK," Beth said. First she saved the information on her computer screen and walked over to Suzy, who was standing in the middle of the small den now, mimicking the movements of Ricky and the scantily clad dancers. The two of them were soon into the salsa beat. "Inside out, upside down, Livin' La Vida Loca," Ricky belted out, while the girls danced on, swinging their hips, lifting a leg, shaking their buns.

"Come on, Mom. You, too," Suzy encouraged. Maggie hesitated a second, then joined them. It took her a moment to get the moves right, but soon she, too, was swinging and swaying to the irresistible beat.

When the song ended with a flourish, they all fell back onto the sofa, laughing uproariously.

This was one of those moments out of time that would be impressed on Maggie's memory. It exemplified, albeit in a small way, how she and her girls were happy and contented in their lives. That was so important. More important than money, or... or husbands and daddies.

"Is Joe getting better?" Beth asked, as if reading her mind.

Maggie nodded. "Yes. Yes, he is. Today he had his first group-therapy session, and he did surprisingly well." That wasn't disclosing too much doctor/patient information, Maggie figured. And actually, Maggie was so proud of Joe... not just for his own progress, but for the sensitive way in which he'd treated his fellow patients.

"When he's better, can we meet him?" Suzy pleaded.

"I don't know. Maybe. No promises."

"You know something odd," Beth said. "I forgot to tell you this before, but my friends on the Internet have been reporting sightings of that whale that brought Joe to Orcaland. It's as if it's been hanging around, looking for him."

"Oh, I don't know about that. It could be any whale. How would they know it was this particular one?"

"All killer whales are not alike, Mom. Each has distinguishing marks and coloring. Besides, Joe's whale is odd because orcas rarely travel in the wild in this part of the country. The water is too warm."

"There's probably some scientific explanation," Maggie insisted.

"Or maybe there isn't," Beth countered.

"Why can't you just believe in the magic of it all?" Suzy wanted to know. "Why can't you accept that maybe—just maybe—the orca brought Joe here. For us."

"That would be more than magic, hon." Maggie hauled both Suzy and Beth into a hug on either side of her. "It would be more like... like..."

Maggie couldn't come up with the exact words she was searching for-not fast enough, anyway. But her girls had no trouble. They finished for her.

"Like a dream come true."

Two days later, Maggie was walking outside on the clinic grounds with Joe.

He was alternately staring at the sky and over toward the highway. Though he no longer talked about it, the man couldn't seem to accept the concept of airplanes and automobiles. His face was grim with some private thoughts. Perhaps homesickness. But the home Joe insisted was his, was thousands of miles away, and a thousand years in the past.

Despite that, his progress thus far—ever since he'd started talking—was remarkable, to say the least. If he would stop insisting that he was a tenth-century Viking and tell them who he really was, Maggie would almost believe he had no mental problems at all.

The most gratifying thing about his progress was that he was helping the other patients. Dozens of the resident patients were heavily involved in exercise, and that was always good.

Many of them had already been addicted to soap operas, but now it had become a communal undertaking, directed by Joe. They watched the soaps together, then discussed them, as if these were real-life happenings. Isn't that Victor Newman a selfiimportant dictator? How about that hotty, Brooke Logan, with her penchant for stealing other women's men? Will Reva recover from her latest bout of amnesia?

Joe also had a fascination with the reruns of The Andy Griffith Show. One of the nurses told her that Joe liked the program so much because Barney Fife reminded him of his big-eared brother... a Viking named Magnus.

"I'm going to have to leave here soon," he announced suddenly, sinking down on a bench near a small flower garden.

"I see." Alarm shot through Maggie like wildfire. She sat down beside him and closed her eyes momentarily in dismay.

"I left my homeland on a quest for my father. Much unfinished business awaits me. I cannot dawdle here much longer without making an effort to locate Thora and my way home. If naught else, I cannot risk being on the high seas come winter."