Page 20 of Love in the Lab
Molly and I have been working together for about a month now, and it’s time to ramp up the fieldwork. Today, we’re going out on the boat. We’ll pull some water samples from the Gulf and pick up one of our gliders that has finished its mission. Ocean gliders are autonomous underwater vehicles about six feet long that look like torpedoes from old war movies. They collect and transmit ocean data like temperature, salinity, pressure, and pH.
The dry dock where the university stores our boats and other equipment is in Slidell, close to the Rigolets, which is a straitconnecting Lake Pontchartrain to the Gulf. It’s about a forty-five-minute drive from the lab. I expect Molly to be nervous—again, the word is that she’s afraid of boats—but she looks relaxed in the passenger seat of my truck as we roll up US-90. If anyone’s acting nervous, it’s me.
We’ll be out on the boat all day, just me and Molly. The sea air, the salt spray, the warm early-September sunshine—and the gorgeous coworker whostillseems to hate me. And because I’m an idiot and apparently a masochist, I suggested she wear a bathing suit under her board shorts and long-sleeve UPF shirt. Yes, it’s the practical thing to do. We’re going to be on a boat, and we’re going to get at least a little wet. But seeing Molly in a bathing suit is the last thing I need when I’m still trying to tamp out this crush before it gets out of hand.
Fortunately, I’m all business on the boat, especially with a newbie onboard with me. When we get to the marina, I focus on introducing Molly to our research vessel.The Ocean Pulse, as she’s been dubbed, is not a sleek and comfortable leisure boat. She’s a dull gray aluminum, practical and fully equipped with the research tools we need. And expensive—forty feet of Class 3 research operations that we are responsible for bringing back to shore safely.
If Molly is afraid of boats, I don’t want to freak her out more, but she does need to be aware of the basics of boat safety. As soon as we’re on thePulse, I point out where the life jackets, throw ropes, and flares are kept and walk her through emergency procedures.
Again, though, Molly isn’t acting like she’s worried about being out on the boat at all. In fact, she’s in the best mood I’ve ever seen from her. She’s smiling and teasing, asking questions about thePulseand the instruments aboard.
“Remind me,” she says, “which is port, and which is starboard? And isn’t there an aft, too? Which way is that?”
“Starboard is right. Port is left. Aft is the back of the boat, and forward is the front of the boat.”
Her eyes twinkle. They actually freaking twinkle. I didn’t know Molly Delaney’s eyescouldtwinkle, but I’m seeing it for myself right now. It’s captivating.
“Will I get to drive?” she asks.
I frown. “It’s ‘pilot,’ not ‘drive,’ but yeah, I could teach you.” I run my hands through my hair and tilt my head to study Molly’s face. She doesn’t look scared at all.
“Are you always this serious on the boat? I thought you said work should be fun.” And she giggles. Freaking giggles. If Molly with twinkling eyes caught me off guard, Molly giggling blows me completely away. It magnifies her cuteness factor by about one thousand. Not enough to knock me off course, though.
I narrow my eyes, suspicious of where she’s going with this. “Hey,” I say in my most austere voice, “No pranks on the boat, Molly. It’s too dangerous.”
Molly stares at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Pranks?” she asks. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
I stoop until our eyes are level. “No. Pranks. On. The. Boat. Clear?”
Her pupils dilate, her eyes a dark island ringed with pools of cool blue.
“Clear,” she says, her voice husky. She clears her throat and takes a step back.
I blink. What just happened? If I didn’t know better, I would think Molly felt attracted to me just then. What a weird, exhilarating day. Her eyes are twinkling, she’s giggling, and she’s acting like she’s attracted to me. Plus, she doesn’t seem at all worried about being out on the boat today.
I scratch the scruff along my jawline. “Molly, are you okay? Everyone says … I mean, I think … Look, the talk around the labis that you’re afraid of boats. That’s why you never want to do fieldwork.”
Molly’s eyes widen, and her cheeks turn red as she ducks her head. When she looks at me again, her apathetic mask is back in place.
“Don’t worry about it,” she snaps. “Mind your own business.”
Ohh-kay. I guess I’m minding my own business, then.
I walk her through the rest of the launch checklist. We have plenty of fuel, the anchor looks good, the radio is working. The weather is supposed to be clear and dry today, so we don’t need to worry about that.
I plug the coordinates of the glider into the navigation system, do a final check, and then we’re off. We motor slowly through the Rigolets and under the railroad bridge into Lake Borgne.
I slow the boat and anchor. We need to collect a water sample from the lake before we venture out to the Gulf. The process of collecting the sample works differently out here than when we were wading in the bayous because we need to get water samples from several different water depths.
I call Molly over and demonstrate how to use the equipment that will help us do that without cross contamination. Then, I let her take the lead on pulling samples from the other depths we need. Of course, she’s a natural. She even reminds me we need a surface sample, too. That’s one we can just scoop out of the water with a sample bottle without using the specialized equipment. The freeboard—or distance between the waterline and deck—for thePulseis about four feet, except in the back where the swim platform sits right on top of the waves for easy access to the water from the boat and vice versa.
As we work, the boat bobs on the waves, and though I’m sure Molly isn’t used to it, the motion doesn’t faze her.Why?Everyone believes she’s afraid of being out on the boat for fieldwork. She hasn’t seemed afraid or even hesitant at all so far.She seems to be loving it, actually. But when I asked her about it, she lashed out.
I watch her as she zips the sample bags closed. My curiosity is building. I must be missing some of the puzzle pieces here because the ones I have arenotfitting together to create any kind of whole.
“All set,” Molly says, her head still down as she cleans up the equipment. When she lifts her gaze, she’s smiling, at least until she catches me staring. The smile turns into a scowl.
I blink and refocus on the task at hand. Piloting the boat. Right. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I take my place at the helm and resume our trek toward the glider’s coordinates.
