Chapter
Twenty: Antarctica – Baby It’s Cold
Outside
Travel & Arrival – Come Fly With
Me
Pre-Trip Porch Dinner Date
Dinner winds down slowly, neither of
them in a hurry to end the evening. Plates sit pushed aside, the last traces of
sauce wiped clean with bread, the familiar clink of silverware replaced by the
quiet hum of the night settling around the house.,,“So,” Mark says, leaning back in his
chair, studying her face, “tomorrow’s the big day, honey. Ready?” Kimmy pauses, eyes lifting as she
mentally runs through a checklist—layers, gloves, meds, chargers, documents,
excitement barely contained.
“I think I’m ready,” she says
with a soft laugh. “Mostly I’m just… so excited.” Mark stands and gathers the dishes.
“Get your coat. Let’s have a glass of wine on the porch.”
“Oh yes,” she says immediately,
already reaching for it. When he returns, he’s carrying the
wine—and two plain white boxes tucked under his arm. Kimmy stops mid-step, suspicion and
delight colliding. “What did you do?” she asks, grinning. Mark sets the boxes down carefully.
“You know how this works,” he says. “Pick one.” She squints at them, then points
decisively at the smaller one. “I want to know what’s in that one.” Mark sighs theatrically. “Let’s try
this again. Pick one.” She pouts for effect. “Fine. That
one.” He slides the larger box toward
her. Kimmy lifts the lid. Inside rests a pewter picture frame,
simple and elegant. Engraved along the bottom, in soft script, are the words: Just In Cases
Her face lights up. “Ohhhh, I love
this. That’s perfect. We can put a picture—”
“—from our Antarctica trip in it,”
Mark finishes. “Yep. Good idea, right?” She nods, already picturing it.
“You’re so clever,” she says, then looks at the second box. “Can I pick this
one now?” Mark stands, moves his chair closer,
slips an arm around her shoulders, and gently slides the smaller box into her
hands. “I just thought,” he says quietly,
“we’re going to the Lost Continent tomorrow. And honestly… I’d have been
lost without you.”
Her eyes mist as she opens the lid. Inside is a delicate gold chain, a
small gold heart resting at its center, a single diamond set into it, catching
the porch light. A breath catches. A tear slips free. “This will fit…” she whispers.
“Right inside the ruby necklace,” he
says softly. “Yes, baby. You… you complete my life. I’m so lucky.” She doesn’t answer with words. She
wraps her arms around him and kisses him deeply, the kind of kiss that says
everything that doesn’t need to be spoken.
“Okay,” Mark says at last, smiling.
“Now we can enjoy the wine.” She curls in beside him, glass in one
hand, fingers of the other resting on the new heart as if to reassure herself
it’s real.
Travel Day
After the first flight to Miami and a
long layover, they’re finally airborne again—this time bound for Buenos Aires. Mark lowers his book and looks ahead.
Sally sits at the window watching a movie, Allan fully reclined, sound asleep. He turns to his left. Kimmy’s head rests on his shoulder,
her arm looped tightly around his, breathing slow and even, completely out. Sally turns, smiles, and whispers,
“She’s so adorable.”
Mark smiles back just as quietly. “She
is, right?”
He kisses the top of Kimmy’s head and
settles in.
Morning breaks warm and bright as they
collect their luggage and step through customs. A Viking host stands waiting
just outside, clipboard in hand. “Welcome to Buenos Aires,” she says
cheerfully. “Names, please?” They check in and join a small group
of travelers waiting for the transfer bus—faces full of anticipation, accents
and stories already mixing.
Later that morning in the hotel, Kimmy
lays out clothes for the next day’s flight when the phone rings. Mark answers. “Hello—oh hey, Allan.
Sure, let me ask the boss.”
Kimmy turns, hands on her hips,
smiling. “That’s me, obviously. What’s the question, honey?”
“Allan and Sally want to know if we
want to walk to that pizza place around the corner for a late lunch, early
dinner.” She strikes a dramatic pose. Mark
covers the phone. “Hang on, Allan. There’s an executive decision being made.” Kimmy lifts her chin. “Tell Sally
that I have decided it’s a good idea—and you boys are welcome to come along.”
Mark laughs into the phone. “She says
okay and has granted us permission. Lobby in fifteen.”
At the canal-side pizza place, the
tables spill out toward the water. “I can’t believe we’re in South
America,” Sally says, shaking her head. “This is all so exciting.”
Allan lifts his glass. “The day we met
these guys, the world opened up to us.” He high-fives Mark. Kimmy squeezes Mark’s hand. “We love
seeing the world with you guys,” she says warmly.
Toward the End of the World
The next morning, the bus winds
through the city toward the airport. The final flight feels different—shorter,
quieter, heavier with anticipation. Two and a half hours later, the plane
crests above snow-capped mountains. Kimmy gasps and sprawls across Mark.
“Look—look at the mountains!” She reaches between the seats, tapping
frantically. “Sal—SAL—look out the window!” Allan and Sally lean over. “Ohhhhh
wow.”
Mark smiles, voice low with awe. “And
this is just the pre-show. Can you imagine what we’re about to see?” For thirty uninterrupted minutes, the
world outside is nothing but peaks, glaciers, endless white under a brilliant
blue sky. After landing, bags collected, they
board the Viking bus. Ten minutes later, the road curves—and there it is. Framed against the mountains, the Viking
Expedition ship Polaris waits, sleek and powerful, impossibly real.
“That is so cool,” Mark whispers. Kimmy leans over and kisses his cheek.
“I love you, honey. I am so excited.” The bus eases to a stop.
Sailing, Take Me Away
The stateroom was far larger than Mark
had expected, thoughtfully designed for a world of cold and movement. A tall
drying closet stood beside the regular wardrobe, already humming softly, and
laid out neatly on the bed were their expedition layers—parkas, the blue Viking
inner jackets, weatherproof pants, insulated boots. Everything sized perfectly,
as if someone had anticipated them. Mark crossed to the wall of glass and
pointed.
“Look, baby—come here. Watch this.” Kimmy smiled as she walked over,
shaking her head. Like a kid in a candy store, she thought fondly. “Watch,” he said, holding the button
down. The upper half of the window hummed
quietly and began to descend, disappearing smoothly into the lower pane until
the room opened to the sea itself—a perfect balcony ledge, wide enough to lean
on, the Southern Ocean stretching endlessly beyond.
“Oh wow… that’s so cool,” Kimmy
murmured, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Do you think we’ll be able to do this
in Antarctica?” she asked. Mark leaned forward, resting his
forearms on the ledge as the crisp air lifted his hair. He took her hand. “From everything I’ve read, yes. It’s
cold—but not as frigid as you’d imagine.” He gestured toward the open water.
“But this… this is perfect, right?”
She rubbed his back gently. “Okay, Mr.
Explorer,” she said with a smile. “You’ve got twenty minutes to change.
Manfredi’s at six—move it.”
Manfredi’s glowed warmly that evening,
the Italian décor rich and familiar, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the
darkening sea. With glasses of wine in hand, Allan, Sally, Kimmy, and Mark
settled into easy conversation. “So,” Kimmy said, smiling at Sally,
“we know you two met at Miami. What’s your story?” Sally smiled and squeezed Allan’s
hand. “Well… I was a freshman and very homesick. My suitemates dragged
me uptown to a bar. And this good-looking guy,” she nodded at Allan, who
grinned and pointed both thumbs at himself, “walked up and asked my roommate
to dance.”
Mark laughed out loud. “Wait—your
roommate? Not Sally? That’s priceless.”
Allan shook his head, laughing. “My
thinking was that she was out of my league, so I asked the other one.
But she said, ‘No… but my roommate will.’”
Sally picked it up. “We dated casually
until spring break, when I told Allan I was transferring to a community
college. We stayed in touch—emails, texts—but nothing serious.”
“Then,” Allan said, “she showed up at
the same alumni weekend I did years later. We met again… and realized we’d been
missing each other more than we knew.” Sally raised her glass toward Mark and
Kimmy. “So what’s your deal? I’m guessing romantic.”
Kimmy squeezed Mark’s arm. “Tell them,
baby.” Mark described their adult friendship,
the long pauses, Kimmy’s move to North Carolina, the dinners every few years.
“And then… that night on the beach.”
Allan leaned in. “So you had no clue?
Just catching up?” Kimmy smiled softly. “Truly no. But I
felt something—and asked him to have one more drink on the terrace.”
“And,” Mark added, pulling her close,
“I’d known her forever—but in that moment, I suddenly saw her.” A kiss. Smiles all around. Then the
food arrived.
It was 2:12 a.m. when Mark’s eyes flew
open. The bed was rising and falling—noticeably—rolling
side to side as if they were riding an invisible wave. He swung his legs over
the side, stood, and immediately lost his balance, crashing back onto the
mattress. He grabbed the counter, then the desk, then the edge of the sofa,
making his way to the window. Outside, the sea was alive—whitecaps
everywhere, the ship pitching like a toy.
“Ooooh…”
He turned just in time to see Kimmy
ricochet off the wall and disappear into the bathroom. He followed, steadying himself, and
found her on her knees. He pulled her hair back as another wave of sickness
overtook her. “Oh, baby,” he murmured, rubbing her
back, staying with her until she slid down against the wall, exhausted. “Not good,” she whispered. “Go back to
bed. I’ll be in soon.” He returned to bed, anxiety humming in
his chest as the ship continued its relentless motion.
3:12 a.m. No Kimmy. He found her again, half-asleep
against the wall, hair damp with sweat. “Can I help you, honey?” A weak shake of the head. A small wave
for him to go.
At 4:50 a.m., he finally felt her
warmth as she curled into him. “Kimmy… honey…”
“Ugghhh,” she groaned. Then faintly,
“…and he said he wanted to go to Antarctica…” She passed out.
By 8:45, Mark was dressed and kissed
her gently. “I’m going to the meeting. Try to rest, baby.” She nodded, already drifting again. The corridors swayed as he made his
way to the Aula. Inside, two-thirds of the passengers clutched armrests, pale
and quiet. Sally waved from the fifth row.
“The Drake Passage,” she said grimly.
“Guess we got one of the rough ones.”
“Kimmy was sick all night,” Mark said.
“Allan?”
“Same,” Sally replied. “You?”
“Anxious,” Mark admitted. “One heck of
an E-ticket ride.” The meeting began.
By 11 a.m., the motion eased. The sea
calmed. By lunchtime, the ship sailed as smoothly as glass. At one, the four of them sat in the
World Café. Sandwiches and soda for Mark and Sally. Soup only for Kimmy and
Allan. “Well,” Mark said, “you never know
with the Passage.” Kimmy managed a weak smile. “Not the
start I imagined.” Allan suddenly froze. Sally followed
his gaze.
“Oh… oh my.” They all turned. On the horizon—as far as the eye
could see—rose mountains of ice and snow.
“Antarctica,” Mark whispered. They grabbed their cameras and stepped
onto the outer deck. And the world went very, very quiet.
Fournier Bay – Waiting For A Girl Like
You
Morning arrived quietly, the light
slipping in through the wide glass as if it didn’t want to disturb them. Snow
and ice glowed outside the window, the pale blues and whites catching the sun
and reflecting it back into the room until everything felt brighter, softer,
unreal. Mark stirred first. He turned his head just in time to
feel Kimmy shift, her hand finding his shirt and clutching it instinctively. “Oh baby…” she murmured. “Stay…” He wrapped his arms around her,
holding her close as his eyes drifted back to the window. The ship moved slowly
through the frozen landscape, massive shapes of ice gliding past like quiet
sentinels. For a long moment, he just watched. Then he smiled, remembering. “Hey,” he
whispered. “Down in the living room they’ve got coffee. Like… real coffee. I
can get us some.” She smiled without opening her eyes.
“Okay. But I’m staying right here.”
He dressed quickly and headed
downstairs, the ship hushed at this hour. In the living room, mugs steamed, and
beyond the windows Antarctica waited, vast and patient. As he turned to leave, something
caught his eye on a shelf. Crossword puzzle books. He grinned. When he returned, Kimmy was sitting up
in bed, the blankets pooled around her waist. “I’m ready for coffee,” she said,
then nodded toward his hands. “What’s that?”
“Well,” Mark said proudly, climbing
back into bed and handing her a mug, “your crossword puzzle.” Her face lit up. “Gimme gimme. You get
a pen?” They sipped their coffee, shoulders
touching, as the scenery drifted by outside like a moving mural. “Okay,” she said, squinting. “Sixteen
across. Seven letters. Resident of Indiana. Blank–O–O–Blank–Blank–E–R.”
Mark didn’t hesitate. “Hoosier.” She smiled. “Good one.”
“Eighteen across,” she continued.
“Sinatra’s eyes. Eight letters… Blank–A–B–Blank–Blank–L–Blank–U–E.” Mark frowned slightly. “Sinatra’s
eyes…” She waited.
“Oh!” he said suddenly. “Baby blue.”
“That fits!” she said, delighted. They worked quietly until the puzzle
was nearly finished, the ship moving steadily, the world outside impossibly
still. “Breakfast, baby,” Mark said at last,
taking her hand. “Allan and Sally will be waiting.” In the World Café, the four of them
stood shoulder to shoulder at the windows, gazing out at a panoramic sea of ice
framed by snow-covered mountains. “So,” Sally said softly, “we have a
cruise this afternoon, right?”
Mark nodded. “They said if the ice
isn’t too thick and the water’s calm enough, we’re heading… out there.” Kimmy breathed out a quiet, reverent,
“Wow…”
That afternoon they joined a small
group on deck, all of them bundled in bright red parkas, waterproof pants
rustling as they moved, life vests snug and secure. The guides steadied each
person as they climbed into the Zodiac. Kimmy perched on the edge of the
rubber raft, gripping Mark’s arm. “There’s only a rope to hold onto,” she
whispered. “That’s it, right?”
He smiled, holding her close. “I’ve
got you, honey. This is going to be great.” The engine roared to life and they
sped across the water, passing towering glaciers that rose like frozen
cathedrals on either side. Then the motor cut. The silence was immediate—and
overwhelming. No wind. No birds. No distant hum.
Just ice. A massive chunk drifted toward them,
two stories tall, sculpted by time and water. “Look,” Kimmy whispered. “It looks
like a camel.” Mark nodded, lifting his camera. Ice filled the horizon now. No visible
water. The guide’s voice cut softly through the stillness.
“We’ll head into the ice now.”
Sally’s jaw dropped. “Into the ice?”
Mark and Allan exchanged wide-eyed
grins.
“Oh my…” Kimmy breathed.
As the Zodiac crept forward, the sound
of cracking and crunching filled the air—like someone opening a bag of chips—ice shifting and breaking gently
beneath the rubber hull. The guide pointed. “Look at the blue.
And see how deep it goes beneath the water.” “WOW,” someone breathed from the back
of the boat. For thirty minutes they drifted
through the ice field, swallowed by it, fog rolling in until the world narrowed
to white, blue, and silence. It felt like floating inside a painting that only
nature could create. When they finally docked back at the
ship, climbing aboard with stiff fingers and flushed faces, Sally and Allan
immediately began comparing photos. Kimmy turned to Mark, her eyes
shining. “You know how sick I was… how miserable that was…”
“I’m so sorry, honey,” he said. She shook her head. “No. So, so
worth it. That was just… stunning.” He slipped an arm around her and
guided her toward the elevator.
That evening at The Grill, steaks were
carried to a table by the window. Outside, blue and gray ice stretched
endlessly. “Can you believe the size of the ice?”
Mark said, holding up his phone. “Look at this one.” Wine flowed. Stories overlapped.
“Wow.”
“Did you see that?”
“I can’t believe we were inside the
ice.”
As the night wore on, the first day
settled gently around them—not as a climax, but as an opening. Just a preview of what was to come.
Damoy Point – Betcha By Golly Wow
The Polaris had sailed quietly
through the night, and by morning she was easing toward Damoy Point. Mark was already awake, reading the
day’s bulletin when Kimmy stirred beside him. “Where are we?” she asked sleepily,
blinking against the pale light. He smiled and leaned over. “Good
morning, baby. You were out like a light—and I’m glad you were.” He tapped the
page. “If everything goes the way they’re hoping, we’ll anchor just off Damoy
Point today… and—wait for it—”
“WHAT?” Kimmy sat straight up, fully
awake now. “—if all goes well,” he said,
grinning, “the Zodiacs will take us ashore, and we’ll walk on Antarctica
today.”
“Oh my…” she breathed. “Can you even
imagine?” Then, without missing a beat: “I’m ready for hot chocolate. Let’s go
downstairs.”
They pulled on sweaters—his navy
hoodie, her white knit—and headed to the Living Room. Outside the windows, the
world was hushed and immense, ice and sky blending into a soft, luminous gray. The waitress appeared. “Good morning.”
“Two hot chocolates,” Mark said, then
added, “and a shot of Baileys in each, please.”
Kimmy leaned in. “With whipped cream?”
The waitress smiled. “Of course.”
“Lots,” Kimmy said, giggling. “Pretty
please.” They settled in, steam rising from
their mugs as Mark opened his laptop. Photos from the previous day filled the
screen.
“Oh, remember that one…”
“Wow, that’s a great shot.”
“You really don’t understand how big they are until you see them like this.”
Allan and Sally joined them.
“Greetings, kids,” Allan said
cheerfully.
Sally eyed the mugs. “Hot chocolate?”
Kimmy lowered her voice
conspiratorially. “With Baileys.”
Allan raised his hand, caught the
waitress’s eye, and mouthed, two of those, smiling.
Kimmy leaned forward. “Guess
what—we’re walking on Antarctica today.”
“You’re kidding,” Sally said.
“If the weather holds,” Mark replied,
“and the water stays calm.”
Kimmy just whispered, “Wow.”
That afternoon, the four of them
skimmed across icy water in a Zodiac, the low hum of the outboard engine the
only sound as towering icebergs slid past. The guide wove expertly through a
maze of ice chunks and narrow channels until the landing site came into view. As they hovered, the guide called out
instructions. “All landings are wet landings. You’ll step into the water and
we’ll help you. Once ashore, stay within the poles and follow the path up the
ridge for a view you won’t forget.” Kimmy went first. Mark steadied her as she swung her
legs over the side. Two guides took her hands, and she splashed into knee-deep
water, gasping slightly at the cold before laughing as they guided her onto the
snowy shore. Sally followed, then Allan, and
finally Mark. Walking sticks were handed out. Kimmy stared at Mark, eyes wide.
“We’re actually on Antarctica.”
He laughed softly. “That we are, baby.
Everybody ready?”
They moved forward slowly, poles
sinking into packed snow, boots crunching rhythmically. Mark stepped carefully,
pointing ahead. “Watch here.” His leg sank suddenly into softer
snow, knee-deep. The others stepped around, grinning. The wind was sharp, the sky a
shimmering steel gray as sunlight fought through cloud. At the crest, the view opened
completely—a full circle of ice and water, Zodiacs arriving below, glaciers
framing the inlet, mountains enclosing everything. From somewhere behind them, someone
said aloud, “Wow.” Mark, Kimmy, Allan, and Sally caught
one another’s eyes and nodded in unison. The guide waved them forward. “Welcome
to the continent of Antarctica. Isn’t it something?” Cameras came out immediately. “How about a group photo?” the guide
offered. “And then one of each couple.”
“Oh, please, yes,” Mark said, handing
over his phone.
He pushed back his hood, the wind
whipping his hair. Kimmy tugged her white beanie higher beneath her hood and
slipped her arm through his. Allan and Sally kept their hoods up; Sally pulled
her scarf down and took Allan’s hand. “Ready?” the guide called.
“Shoot!” Mark answered. The guide snapped a few shots and
returned the phone. Mark pulled off a glove, widened the image on the screen. “Oh, that’s awesome—look, guys.” They crowded in, murmuring ohh
and ahh. Mark held the phone out slightly and
said, almost to himself, “There we are. The four of us. On the continent of
Antarctica. Who would have thought?”
Allan clapped him on the back. “What
an experience. Wow.”
Later that afternoon, back aboard,
Kimmy held up two dresses. “Which one?” she asked. “I only
brought two nice ones. I know it’s not formal, but Sally’s wearing something
special. Blue or black?” Mark circled her thoughtfully. “Hey,” she said, laughing, “judge, you can’t
see the dress from back there.”
He smiled. “It’s important to
understand the shape filling the dress.”
“Uh huh. Pick one.”
“The blue,” he said. “The open back
will be stunning.”
She blushed. “That’s the one I like
too. And you wear your blue sweater—we’ll match.” At the bar, Allan and Sally were
already enjoying wine. “They said our table will be ready in
about ten,” Allan said. “I ordered you wine.” They sat together, reliving the day,
scrolling through photos, shaking their heads in disbelief. Dinner was wonderful—seafood,
laughter, ice cream sundaes to finish. Good nights were exchanged, and they
returned to their staterooms side by side. Mark hung his clothes, climbed into
bed, and picked up the next day’s bulletin. “Cuverville Island tomorrow,” he said.
“Maybe penguins.”
“Uh huh,” came the soft reply.
“Penguins, honey, isn’t that—” He
looked up and stopped. Kimmy stood by the wall, one hand on
her hip, wearing her shorty-short pajamas, the top loosely unbuttoned. She
giggled and bounded into bed as Mark reached for the light. Moonlight poured through the glass,
silver and soft, Antarctica holding them in its quiet.
Dallmann Bay / Cuverville Island –
Silent Snow
Mark slipped quietly out of the
stateroom, easing the door shut behind him. The ship felt hushed this morning,
as if it too were listening. In the Living Room, he poured coffee
and gathered a fresh crossword for Kimmy. Beyond the wide picture windows, huge
snowflakes drifted lazily down, silent and deliberate, already piling inches
deep across the deck. He stood for a moment, watching. So
this is what it looks like when the world slows itself. When he returned, the soft click of
the door latch stirred her. “Do you have coffee?” came the sleepy,
half-formed question. “Yes, baby,” he said gently. “But
look… look outside.” She rolled over, squinting—then
gasped. “Ooooh!” In an instant she was out of bed, padding toward the window,
the long tails of the shirt fluttering behind her.
“Come on,” she said, beckoning him.
By the time he handed her the mug, the
upper half of the window had already lowered, disappearing smoothly into the
wall. They leaned against the ledge together. A cool breeze slipped in, crisp but
gentle, carrying the scent of ice and salt. The ship glided effortlessly
through scattered floes, the sun bright against snow-capped mountains. Below
them, ice cracked softly—like popcorn just beginning to pop. Mark slipped behind her, arms wrapping
around her waist, and kissed the top of her head. “I continue to be amazed,” he said
quietly.
“It’s just… unbelievable,” she
whispered.
“Yes,” he said softly. “But I’m
talking about you. Being with me.”
She turned and kissed his cheek. “I
know, baby.”
He smiled, shaking his head slightly.
“I’d never have done half the things we’ve done if you hadn’t said, ‘Would you
like another drink?’ that night.”
She rested her forehead against his.
“We have the best life.”
Mid-morning found them in the Aula
with Allan and Sally. “Hey guys,” Sally whispered. “You’re
just in time—they said there’s a surprise before the meeting starts. How was
the crossword today, honey?” Kimmy flashed the page, nearly
complete, beaming. The program director stepped forward,
and the room grew still.
“Many of you know about a special
feature of our Aula,” he said. “Today feels like the perfect day to
demonstrate.” He turned and pressed a small remote. With the faintest hum, the entire
front wall began to lift—slowly, steadily—until it vanished into the ceiling,
revealing a vast wall of glass stretching from one end of the ship to the
other. Antarctica filled the space. Fresh snow blanketed the bow.
Mountains rose impossibly close. Silence pressed in. A collective gasp swept the
room—followed by spontaneous applause. As the meeting continued, crew members
could be seen outside, shoveling the deck. By the time they reached the front
windows, snow had already reclaimed it, inches deep once again. At lunch, Allan leaned back, content.
“Honestly, I’m not disappointed we’re stuck inside today. I’m good with just…
taking it all in.”
Kimmy smiled. “I’m thinking a movie
and a nap. You in, honey?”
Mark pretended to consider. “I’ll read
for a bit in the room. And yes…” he added quickly as she pouted, “…I’ll
cuddle.”
Sally laughed, leaning into Allan. “Do
they ever stop being adorable?” Allan just shook his head. Later that afternoon, Kimmy stood at
the window while Mark read nearby. Then the announcement came.
“Viking guests… we’ve reached waters
near Cuverville Island calm enough for those wishing to join the Special Ops
boats.” They were geared up in minutes. Harnesses locked them into place as
the Special Ops boat was lowered down the ramp. The instant it hit the water,
the engines roared—and suddenly they were flying, skimming over choppy waves,
ice flashing past in every direction. The sun glinted off the ice as if the
world itself were sparkling. Then the engines cut.
“Off the starboard side,” the guide
said quietly. “Whales.”
A soft whoosh followed by
collective ooohs. Then—without warning—a whale surged
from the water, breaching high before crashing back with a thunderous splash.
Kimmy squeezed Mark’s arm. “So like
Alaska… but here? It’s just—wow.”
He smiled at her. “Just amazing.” After an hour, the boat eased back to
the ship, everyone buzzing with excitement. Dinner followed at the World Café. Kimmy finished her salmon as Mark
returned with ice cream, while Allan and Sally lingered over wine. Then the announcement came again.
“Viking guests… those near the top
deck or starboard side, please step outside for a remarkable sight.” They hurried out just as the ship
began to pass a massive glacier—sixty feet tall, nearly the length of the Polaris
itself. Trapped within the ice, blue water glittered like diamonds. “Oh my…” Mark breathed. Kimmy stepped behind him, wrapping her
arms around his chest. Allan and Sally lifted their cameras.
“Here,” Sally said. “Hold still.”
She snapped the photo. Kimmy smiled as she looked at it.
“That’s the one for the frame, baby.” A quick kiss. Snow fell softly again.
Porter Point – Some Kind of Wonderful
The first thing Mark noticed when he
woke was what wasn’t there. Where’s her hand… and her warmth? He rolled onto his side just as bright
sunlight poured through the window, outlining Kimmy in a soft halo as she stood
at the glass, completely still, gazing out. “Hey,” he said, voice thick with
sleep. She turned instantly, already dressed,
eyes bright. “Hi, baby!” She hopped back into bed, kissed him quickly, then
bounced to her feet again. “Let’s go get coffee!”
He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?
Why are you up?” She planted her feet, arms crossed,
tapping her toe theatrically. “It’s a big day. We’re supposed to walk on
the continent today, and it’s glorious out there.” He smiled despite himself. “Okay,
okay. I’m coming.”
“C’mon,” she called, already halfway
to the door. “Crosswords waiting. Coffee’s brewing.”
“Is someone a little excited today?”
he asked, pulling on jeans and the navy hoodie draped over the sofa. “YAY—finally!” she called back. They settled onto the sofa with their
mugs, steam curling up between them as the ship glided silently through ice and
light. Mark sipped slowly, waking up inch by inch. “I can’t believe I slept until eight,”
he said. “That’s so unlike me.” Kimmy barely looked up from the
puzzle. “Okay, help me. Eight across. Five letters. Starts with a D. ‘Romantic
outings.’”
“Dates,” he said immediately.
“Right! Good one. Ten across. Three
letters. Blank-blank-G. ‘Embrace.’ Easy—hug.”
“Well done,” he smiled. She scanned again. “Fifteen across.
Seven letters. A–blank–blank–blank–blank–N–G. ‘Smitten or devoted.’ That’s
hard.”
“Hmmm,” he said, standing. “Let me
grab a refill. Want one?”
She shook her head. As he turned back,
he smiled. “Adoring.”
She looked up. “What?”
“ADORING,” he said. “That’s the
answer.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. As he poured his coffee, he thought, She
is adorable. And smiled at himself. Allan and Sally joined them shortly
after. “Morning, dude,” Allan said, clinking
cups with Allan.
“Morning, brother,” Mark replied. “How
you doing? Sal…”
Sally grinned. “We are so
excited for today. Walking on the continent.”
Kimmy nodded emphatically. “I mean,
walking on Antarctica was incredible—but that wasn’t the mainland.
There’s something special about today. You can feel it.” Everyone nodded.
“Look,” Mark said suddenly, pointing. Out the window, half a dozen Zodiacs
sped across the water toward the snow-covered mainland. The four of them stepped out onto the
deck. The breeze was light, surprisingly gentle. Ice cracked softly below,
sunlight shimmered across ice bergs, and the distant hum of engines carried
faintly over the water. “What are they doing?” Allan asked.
“Scouting,” Mark said. “Making sure
conditions are safe. They’ll mark the paths.”
Sally breathed out a quiet “Ooooh.”
Kimmy slipped her arms around Mark’s
waist. “This is so exciting, honey.”
That afternoon, bundled and ready,
they boarded the Zodiac. Icebergs loomed like frozen buildings, casting shadows
they slipped in and out of as the boat skimmed forward. Then the engine cut. The silence was immediate—and
absolute. Somewhere far away, the muted voices
of guides unloading the first group echoed faintly. One by one, they swung
their legs over the side, splashed into icy water, and stepped onto land. And then they were standing there.
On Antarctica. “Okay,” the guide called, smiling.
“Welcome to the mainland.”
“Wow,” Kimmy whispered.
“Just… wow,” Sally breathed.
The guide pointed uphill. “You’ll see
the poles marking the path. Stay between them. We’ve packed the snow. When you
reach the top—well—you’ll see. Jessica’s waiting up there.” They took walking sticks and began the
climb. Snow crunched underfoot, the wind cool but steady, the world reduced to
white, blue, and sky.
“Baby…” Kimmy said behind him.
He turned.
She swept her pole in a slow arc. “Can
you believe this?”
He leaned in and kissed her—just a
beat longer than necessary. “Just stunning.”
Allan called out, laughing, “Hey!
People hiking here—get a room or get a move on!”
Laughter spilled out as they climbed. At the crest, Jessica waved. “How
about this, folks?”
Mark shook his head. “It’s just so…
so…”
“Yes,” Jessica said softly. “It is.” She motioned them higher. And there, perfectly framed in the bay below, surrounded by ice
and mountains, sat the Viking Polaris. Allan sucked in a breath. “Like a postcard.” Jessica smiled. “Fun fact—across all
of human history, only 0.05% of the population has ever stood on the
mainland of Antarctica.” The words settled into the stillness. Kimmy whispered, “Pictures won’t do it
justice.”
Mark thought, Like photos of you. Then smiled at himself. What are you, a Hallmark commercial? “What?” Kimmy asked. “Nothing,” he said, taking her hand.
“Let’s do the picture.” They posed as Jessica snapped photos,
then began the hike back down.
That night was formal dinner
night—worthy of celebration. Kimmy wore a shimmering aqua dress,
spaghetti straps framing her necklaces. Mark wore a blue-and-white pinstriped
jacket with a matching tie. She stepped
out of the bathroom. “Oh wow,” he said.
She laughed. “What, this old thing?
You like it?”
He offered his arm. “Will you be my
date tonight?”
She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Hmm.
Should I trust this guy?”
“Please,” he said. “Be my date.”
She smiled, wagged a finger. “Okay—but
no funny business, mister.”
He crossed his heart and took her
hand. Dinner was full of laughter, food, and
quiet disbelief as they relived the day—each “wow” layered atop the last. And as the night closed in around
them, Antarctica held its silence.
Sequence 6: Return to Cuverville
Island / Penguin Day – Just Like Penguins Do
“Penguin Day.” The words slipped into Mark’s
half-dream like a whisper meant only for him. He opened one eye and immediately saw
two bright ones staring back at him, wide and shining, paired with a smile so
big it almost hurt to look at. “Are you awake yet?” Kimmy whispered,
barely able to contain herself. Mark chuckled softly, the sound still
thick with sleep. “Okay, yes… I’m awake. Is someone just a little
excited today?”
She bounded out of bed in the
oversized shirt, arms stretched wide, spinning once in a clumsy little circle.
“PENGUIN DAY!” she sang under her breath, laughing at herself. “Alright,” Mark said, pushing himself
upright, “I’m not sure anyone needs coffee this morning, but that’s
still where we’re going.” Kimmy was already halfway to the
bathroom. “Brushing my teeth—ready in five. You better be dressed by then!” Mark smiled as he pulled on his jeans
and reached for the sweater folded over the chair. He slipped it over his head—
—and froze.
The change was instant.
Tightness bloomed across his chest.
Lightheadedness followed, sharp enough to make the room tilt. He reached for
the counter, bending slightly, one hand braced as he focused on his breathing.
Slow. Breathe. Just slow.
Kimmy came around the corner, bright
and bouncing—and stopped cold. “Baby… BABY.” She rushed to him, hands immediately
at his knees, then his wrists, pulling them away from where he’d braced
himself.
“Oh no, no, no—what’s happening?” Her
voice trembled, eyes already wet.
Mark lifted his head, forcing a small
smile through a deep breath. “Okay… I’m… okay. It’s the—”
“The blood clots,” she finished for
him, whispering the words like they might break if spoken louder. “Honey…
breathe.” She helped him stand upright, hands
firm on his arms, anchoring him. Mark turned his gaze toward the window.
Focus on the mountains. White peaks came into view, sharp and
steady. Slowly, his breathing followed.
“I’m okay,” he said softly. “Really.”
Kimmy didn’t move. She pulled him into
her so tightly he thought for a moment she might knock the breath out of him
instead—and then she cried quietly against his shoulder.
“I get so scared,” she whispered. “I
just… I couldn’t—” Mark gently eased her back, cupping
her face. “Look at me, baby. I’m right here. I’m okay.” She searched his eyes, still shaking. “And besides,” he added lightly, “you
think a microscopic blood clot is going to stop the pitter-patter of penguin feet?” A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.
“That’s my girl,” he said, taking
another steady breath. “Let’s get coffee.” She clutched his arm as they walked
out, fingers tight, unwilling to let go. Later, Mark and Allan leaned on the
rail, watching the zodiac crews head toward shore. Allan nodded toward the interior
windows. “What’s going on with the girls? Kimmy looked like she’d been crying.”
Mark didn’t take his eyes off the
water. “Blood clots. Every once in a while it hits me. I try to hide it, but
sometimes she sees.”
Allan exhaled. “Damn, dude. Sorry.”
“Thanks,” Mark said quietly. Then he
pointed. “Look—they made it to shore.”
By early afternoon they were skimming
across the water, the zodiac bouncing lightly as frigid air slapped their faces
and icebergs slid past like slow-moving giants. And then—shore. Legs swung over. Boots splashed into
icy water. Hands helped steady them. And suddenly—
They were standing there.
On Antarctica.
A chorus of sound rose immediately,
thousands of voices chattering and calling. “PENGUINS!” Kimmy squealed, grabbing
Mark’s hand. “They’re everywhere!”
“Remember,” Mark said, the teacher
instinctively emerging, “you can’t approach them—but they’ll come to you.” As if on cue, a pair waddled past on
the rocks, stopping just long enough to look them up and down before continuing
on their way. Sally gave a small bow. “Good
afternoon, Mr. Penguin.” They climbed the rise together,
crunching through snow, pausing again and again to allow penguins the right of
way. A line of three stopped at a drop, glanced right, then left—then one by
one hopped down and slid the final few feet perfectly.
Kimmy laughed. “Did you see that?”
Mark already had his camera up. “Got
it all on video, honey.”
They watched it back together,
smiling, laughing softly. At the summit, they stopped. “Oh… wow,” Mark whispered. The inlet stretched below them, framed
by glacier walls and mountains, icebergs dotting the water like sculpture.
“Take a picture,” Kimmy breathed. Mark didn’t answer—he was already
clicking. “We’re blowing this up,” he said quietly. “Living room wall.”
A guide approached, smiling. “Does it
get any better than this?”
“PENGUINS!” Kimmy and Sally answered
in unison. Photos followed—groups, couples—smiles
so bright they seemed to rival the sunlight reflecting off the ice.
That night at The Grill, Kimmy and
Sally chattered excitedly, comparing photos between bites. Mark and Allan
waited near the counter, watching the chef work. “Quite the day, dude,” Allan said. Mark nodded, eyes fixed on the table
by the window. On the auburn hair. On the bright blue eyes. On the smile. “That smile,” he thought.
“Medium rare?” the chef asked.
“Yes,” Mark said, finally looking
away. “That’s mine.”
Return Trip – Take Me
Home, Country Roads
The final morning in Antarctica
arrived wrapped in celebration. Out on the open deck, Viking staff had
transformed the icy expanse into something improbably festive. Long tables were
set with warm food and silver trays, steam rising into the cold air. Guests
clustered together in their inner blue Viking jackets, cheeks pink from wind
and wonder, laughter floating softly across the deck. The captain stepped forward, a
champagne flute raised.
“As we depart Antarctica today,” she
began, pausing as the ship glided past towering walls of snow and ice, “and in
the shadow of these mountains…” she swept her arm toward the epic, frozen
backdrop, “…we hope you’ve enjoyed the week we spent here and will carry these
memories of a lifetime with you.” She smiled broadly.
“Thank you for joining us on this
amazing adventure. Cheers!”
A single word rose as one. “CHEERS!” Glasses clinked. Champagne bubbled.
Cameras flashed. Mark, Kimmy, Allan, and Sally drifted
together toward the rail, instinctively, like iron filings drawn to a magnet.
The ship eased forward, and slowly—almost reluctantly—the mainland began to
slip away. The silence was profound. Only the
gentle cracking of ice and the low murmur of fellow travelers saying their
quiet goodbyes. Mark rested his forearms on the rail.
“Well, kids,” he said lightly, “did it live up to the advanced billing?”
Kimmy leaned into him, and he felt the
faint tension still lingering in her shoulders from the previous morning. He
pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. Allan shook his head in disbelief.
“Just… E-P-I-C,” he spelled out carefully.
“So much more than I imagined,” Sally
added. “So, so much more.”
Mark glanced down. “How about you,
baby?” he asked softly. “Good times? Make some memories?” Kimmy didn’t answer right away. She
stared out at the fading white world, eyes bright, thoughtful. “I thought I’d already lived a
lifetime of once-in-a-lifetime moments,” she said finally. “But this…” She
smiled, then turned and tucked herself against Mark’s chest. “This goes right
to the very top of the list.”
“And the best part?” she added
quietly.
Mark smiled, already knowing the
answer. “What’s that, honey?” She didn’t say it out loud. She just
snuggled closer, and he wrapped his arms around her a little tighter.
Sally leaned into Allan and whispered,
“Do you see it in her eyes?”
Allan nodded, smiling. “I do.”
“I’ve never seen two people so
connected,” Sally said, her voice barely above the wind. Above them, the sun rose higher,
casting long shadows across the ice as Antarctica slowly receded into memory.
Later that afternoon, guests gathered
on deck once more as the ship curved gracefully around Cape Horn. “One last photo op,” Mark said,
lifting his phone. “Places we’ve been.”
Allan rested a hand on his shoulder.
“So… Manfredi’s tonight. But won’t we be crossing the Drake Passage around
then?”
Kimmy’s head popped up instantly. “Is
that right, honey?”
Mark shrugged with an easy smile.
“Guess we’ll see what it’s like. If we’re rockin’ and rollin’, maybe dinner
won’t sound so great. If we’re lucky…” He nodded toward the horizon. “It’ll be
the perfect way to top it all off.” Back in their stateroom, Kimmy curled
up on the bed, exhaustion finally catching up to her. “I might take a nap,” she murmured.
Then, patting the pillow beside her, she added, “And… come here, please.” Mark stretched out on top of the
comforter as she tucked herself into his side. He flipped through channels absently,
then paused. “Hey… did you ever watch Glee when it was on?”
Kimmy smiled sleepily. “Loved the
music. Put one on.” He lowered the volume as the opening
notes filled the room, and she snuggled deeper into his arm. Outside, the sea
rolled steadily, no longer angry—just alive.
That evening, Manfredi’s glowed warmly
against the dark water. The four sat by the plate-glass
window, watching the waves rise and fall. “Well,” Sally said, lifting her glass,
“not smooth as glass… but definitely not like the last time.”
Allan chuckled. “I’ll take this any
day.”
Mark gently tilted Kimmy’s chin toward
him. “You okay, baby? Motion all right?”
She nodded. “I’m good. I’m even… a
little hungry.” Pasta arrived. Steaks followed. Wine
flowed easily. Stories overlapped—favorite moments,
shared laughs, quiet awe. Each retelling added another layer, another memory
stitched permanently into the fabric of the week. As the ship carried them north, away
from the end of the world, Mark watched Kimmy laugh across the table and
thought how strange it was that leaving something so vast didn’t feel like
loss.
Because they weren’t leaving it
behind.
They were carrying it with them.
