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.
“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.
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.
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.”
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.
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