Read The Pike: Ships In The Night for Free Online Page B

grin as I watched the girl, oblivious to the ferry's arrival, jotting down notes on her paper.  I changed course and limped over to her and reached out to touch her shoulder lightly.  “Miss?  The ferry is here.”
    She almost jumped out of her skin.  I hadn't meant to startle her.  Her papers fell off her lap, and I bent to pick them up.  Holy crap!  Every square inch of paper was covered in various formulae and equations that I'd never understand in a million years.
    I offered them to her with an apologetic squint of one eye.  “Sorry.  I didn't mean to startle you.”
    She just grabbed the papers I offered and held them to her chest as she looked down shyly and pushed some of that lustrous black hair out of her face.  She squeaked out, “It's alright.  I get lost in the numbers.”
    Then she grabbed her other things without meeting my eyes and scurried off toward the ferry.  She paused and looked back and quickly said, “Thank you.”  She looked away bashfully and merged into the foot traffic that was now boarding the ferry.
    I caught myself just smiling and watching her go.  Oh wait, I need to be on that boat too.  I followed quickly behind.  Just what I needed to do was to miss another ferry in my distraction.  The shy ones have always been my kryptonite.
    Once I boarded, I paused at the steep stairs to the second level.  I took a deep breath and took the railing with my cane in hand and started climbing.  I could use the elevator like I had to in my wheelchair, but I wanted to get to the point where stairs like this weren't a daunting obstacle.  I had been improving daily.
    I'd never recover fully and will always need the cane, but I could get to the point where it wasn't much harder than it was when I was more able if I just kept at it, and kept building muscle and tolerance to the pain.
    I paused halfway up to take a couple breaths.  All the good the massage earlier had done in loosening up the knots was being undone.  I forced myself forward then contemplated the elevator to get to the observation deck.  I chastised myself and went up the next level and over to the railing, just as the ship started moving.
    I smiled at the familiar motion and leaned heavily on the rail and just watched as the city I loved receded behind us.  I changed my focus ahead to watch Bainbridge Island growing on the horizon until it took up the entire view as we swung south around the Island.  I looked around at all the other ships and smaller pleasure craft gliding along the waters.
    There wasn't any whale activity, which was always disappointing.  I loved the whales.  They are usually pretty sparse during the early fall months like this, but that would be picking up soon as we moved into winter.  Then it was almost impossible not to have a pod out there playing and shadowing the ships, just like in the spring.  Still, I spotted one or two a week off season.
    I shivered and realized what a difference an hour made.  The sun was low on the horizon and would be setting in about an hour.  I'd have to start bringing a jacket for the ride across.  I sighed when we docked in Bremerton just a bit over a half hour after that, and I looked at the stairs, my nemesis, as the cars started unloading, and driving off toward their homes.
    Down is easier than up for me, I've got most of my upper body strength back after wheeling around for months.  I might not be able to deadlift someone over my shoulders again... yet.  But I was getting there.
    I was the only one on the observation deck, so I grinned and spread my arms to rest them on the railings and just slid down to mid-deck, the main passenger deck.  Then I leaned on my cane as I waited for the people heading out of the cabin and down to the auto deck.
    The mathematician lady passed by, oblivious to the world as she shuffled in the herd down the stairs, completely immersed in her book.  When the last person had made their egress I again slid down to the auto deck