Page 45 of Truly, Madly Viking

Leastways, he hoped that was the case. He thought of something else. "Mayhap you will get some answers yourself when we visit that war praise-wall."

It was Steve who turned stiff then. "I am not getting off this bus when we get to that freakin' wall. I swear, I'm not. I know Dr. McBride has all these piss-poor ideas about making a big breakthrough with me, but it isn't gonna happen there... or anywhere else, for that matter." He turned away and stared morosely out the window. In an undertone, he murmured, for his own benefit only, "I don't see enough of 'Nam in my dreams. I gotta see it on a damn wall, too?"

The hairs rose on the back of Jorund's neck then. In the distance, he could see a large sign that said, WELCOME TO ORCALAND. And beyond that was the water inlet that led out to Galveston Bay and the seas beyond.

Would this be the day he returned to the past?

Maggie found Joe, finally. He was sitting on a small promontory near the outer rim of the inlet, arms resting on bended knees, gazing out beyond the bay.

Of course, he had defied all rules by wandering away from their group, which was still watching the Gonzo show back in the arena. "Joe?" she inquired softly.

At first he didn't seem to hear her. Even though his lips were moving, no words came out. It was as if he were speaking some silent language. Then he turned.

Maggie's heart almost broke at the bleakness in his gray eyes.

"She's not there," he told her.

"Who's not there?" Maggie dropped down to the ground beside Joe and put a hand on his shoulder in concern.

"Thora."

"The killer whale?"

He nodded. "Much as I've tried-o communicate with her, there is no response."

"You... you talk to orcas?"

"Not all orcas... leastways, I don't think I can talk to them all—just my own personal pain-in the-arse killer whale, Thora."

This was not good news. After all the progress Joe had made, believing that he could talk to an ocean mammal could be chalked up to additional delusions, along with his time-travel and Viking claims.

"Does the whale talk back to you?"

"Yea, it does. In my head."

Oh, God.

He slanted a glance her way. "You think I'm demented, don't you?"

"Of course not."

"You are a poor liar, Dock-whore Muck-bride."

"Well, anyhow, it's not the end of the world that you didn't have a chat with Thora today," she said brightly. "Let's view it in a positive light."

"For the love of all the gods, spare me," he replied with a groan. "You are going to start the sigh-colic-jest blathering again, aren't you?"

She raised her chin, affronted. "I don't know what you mean."

He exhaled with a loud whoosh. "All those words and phrases that say nothing: 'I see. How do you feel about that? What do you think?' Never do you answer a question directly, but always turn it back on your pay-shuns. 'Tis enough to drive a sane man mad, I tell you."

She began to ask him how he felt about that, then stopped herself short. He was right. She did have a tendency to spout psychobabble, when the philosophy behind Rainbow was to avoid the therapist-as-robot approach. Psychologists no longer needed to hide personal emotions and reactions or remain silent and unmoved in the client relationship. At Rainbow, a therapist was supposed to be free to be oneself, while remaining objective at the same time. "What I started to say about putting a positive light on this event is that maybe this is a sign—I know you are big on signs—that it's time to put aside the past and move forward."

"To heal myself?"

"Yes!" she said enthusiastically.

He shook his head. "There is no bright side in this catastrophe today... and, yea, it is a catastrophe.