As Deep As the Ocean

by Cindy Nichols

Cassie reached her car, grabbed her phone from her purse and dialed her best friend, Taylor. They’d been traveling to Playa Luna in Baja California together as long as she could remember with their parents—now just their moms as both their dads were out of the picture—and their parents had frequently joked Cassie and Taylor had been friends since before they were born.

  “Hey, Cassie, what’s up,” Taylor asked, her usual cheery greeting. Cassie plunked herself down on the curb of the Institute’s parking lot. Hot tears burning her eyes, she gave her friend the bad news.

  “Oh, Cassie, you’re kidding me? That’s awful,” Taylor said, her voice low.

  “I need to be there at the news conference. I have to stop this,” she said, the back of her hand wiping her wet cheeks.

  “I’ve got vacation time saved, and we’re quiet right now. Want a wing-man? Might as well make a trip out of it.” Her voice softened, and she said, “I know you’ll figure something out, Cassie. You always do.”

  Cassie breathed a bit better, having made the arrangements to go. The relief was short-lived, though, and that night sleep didn’t come. She played different scenarios over in her mind, trying to convince the developers the sanctuary was a necessary part of the future of Baja.

  She thought of Playa Luna and felt a shiver of dread, wondering if she’d be able to help the vaquita. As the sun peeked through the windows, she gave up all hope of sleep. She packed a quick bag and was ready at the door at six a.m. when Taylor arrived.

  “I’ve got all the supplies, Cass. All the road trip prerequisites,” Taylor said as Cassie got into the car, pointing to the ice chest in the back. “All the stuff our parents always brought for Baja only. Remember? The stuff they wouldn’t ever let us eat at home.”

  Cassie laughed as she opened the ice chest and saw the Red Bulls, Cokes and various chips. Nacho Cheese Doritos, Cheetos—and Taylor’s favorite, Slim Jim’s. “Oh, my God, when was the last time you ate a Slim Jim?” Cassie asked, shoving her friend’s shoulder. “Your mom would kill you.”

  “Hey, I’m almost thirty. When do you get to eat what you want? And she doesn’t know what I eat anymore. But you know as well as I do she’d do the same for a road trip to Baja,” Taylor said, pulling onto Highway 8 toward the border, out of San Diego. “What happens in Baja—” she said with a laugh.

  Passing through the California desert and over the border into Baja, they navigated the busy streets of the border town. Back in the desert for the desolate drive to San Felipe, the closest town to Playa Luna, Taylor broached the subject they had been avoiding.

  “So, what are your plans, Cassie? How are you going to change this? It’s a giant corporation, from what I read on the internet. Insanely rich family with ties to the government. They’ve even gotten family investors from Spain in on this one,” Taylor said with a quizzical glance toward her passenger.

  Still groggy from napping through the desert, Cassie’s eyes hardened as the memory of her predicament returned. “I don’t know, friend. I keep hoping for an idea, but it hasn’t come to me yet. I know enough to know I can’t just barge in there and demand they see the vaquita the way I do. I’m hoping to come up with something a little more—”

  “Subtle?” Taylor chuckled.

  With a smile, Cassie’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve not been known to be exactly subtle.”

  “You think?” Taylor responded, laughing loudly. “I have faith you will come up with the perfect thing, Cassie,” Taylor said, her voice softening.

  They both fell silent as they came into the fishing town of San Felipe, the last vestige of true civilization before they reached their destination. They drove down its malecon, the main street along the beach, just for old time’s sake. They stopped at the last mercado and stocked up on supplies—they’d need regular food besides the road trip items. “Want to stop for a taco?” Taylor asked.

  Colorful blankets, hats, shirts and bathing suit cover-ups billowed in the breeze. Street carts full of shrimp and fish dotted every empty space. Laughter was everywhere, and Cassie sighed as the sun shone warm on her face, her tense muscles relaxing in the warm breeze.

  “I’m okay if we just head down,” Cassie said, eyes turning south. The sand and sea beckoned, her thoughts drawn again to the vaquita.

  “Suit yourself, crazy woman,” Taylor said, turning down the highway that was the last leg of the trip.

  The last twenty miles of road meandered close to the water and again out into the desert. They passed the Valle de Gigantes, the strange and singular spot in northern Baja filled with Saguaro cactuses over forty feet tall. “Remember when we went there when we were little and you hugged the Saguaro, like a Redwood, and wanted me to take a picture?” Cassie asked. “Not your finest moment.”

  Taylor groaned and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me pick all the needles out the entire trip,” She rubbed her hand over her arm at the memory.

  Small dots of houses appeared as they drove further toward Playa Luna. The motley group of communities—the south campos—stretched for over thirty miles along the coast of the Sea of Cortez, solar panels glinting in the sun. They were like individual neighborhoods, each with their own colorful signs, interesting inhabitants and personalities.

  Halfway toward their camp, they passed Shell Beach and Rancho Del Sol, its mile-long dirt road leading to a small resort with cabanas and palapas covered in palm fronds providing shade for travelers and vacationers. This was the rancho that the company had bought and planned to develop into something monstrous, and she averted her eyes.

  At its center was a lagoon full, most of the time, of treacherous mud.

  “Remember when we rode up there on the four-wheelers and got stuck?” Cassie asked Taylor, her head out the window and the wind blowing through her blonde hair. She even loved the smell here, salt and sea spray in the air.

  “Okay, another of my worst moments. Thanks for reminding me,” Taylor said with a smile.

  Older and wiser now, they were on another adventure. Turning down the dirt road to their camp, they rolled into the dirt drive.

  “Woo-hoo,” they said together, throwing the bags out of the car. They opened up the house that Cassie’s mom had bought decades before, when Cassie and Taylor were babies. They’d already decided that Taylor wouldn’t even bother to open up her house across the dirt road behind Cassie’s as there was plenty of room for both of them in the brick house on the beach.

  “Gosh, it’s good to be here.” Taylor said. “Doesn’t seem the same without our moms here to beat at Scrabble.”

  Cassie carried her bag into one of the bedrooms, glancing at the fire brick walls and opening the sliding glass door to let in the sea breeze. She inhaled deeply, and memories of her childhood in this place flooded in. Cassie and Taylor’s mothers were best friends, and they’d all spent many happy times in this house and on this beach.

  Taylor plopped her bag in one of the other bedrooms and carried in the ice chest from the car. “Have you talked to her yet? Told her what’s happening?”

  “No,” Cassie said as she opened the cupboards in the kitchen to assess what was there. Opening a vacation house after having been away a long time was always a surprise. “I thought I should wait until I calmed down a bit and knew what my plan was. She’d just worry and get down here as fast as she could, and I know it’s not a good time for her. I wish she’d retire, but right now she’s really busy.

  “She’s not going to like that,” Taylor said, glancing at her friend out of the corner of her eye.”

  “I know. But I think it’s best. I’m worried about her.”

  “All right, if you think so,” Taylor said. “I’m just glad you wanted me to come with you. I’ve worked so hard these past couple of years, and going into an MBA program will keep me at high rpm’s for another two,” Taylor said. “I sure needed a vacation, and you needed to get out of town, too. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for way too long.”

  Cassie sighed and moved to set he
r clothes in the dresser. Their focus turned to the house, and the task at hand. A beautiful fire-brick house on a cliff overlooking the sea, it had been a place of respite for the two of them since they were children. They always thought of themselves as girl adventurers when they went alone, without their parents, as they had to remember how to “open” an all-solar house. Living off the grid as everyone did in the south campos, there was a bit to do before they could relax.

  “Let’s have a beer and relax before we start everything on the house,” Taylor said, handing Cassie an ice-cold Corona, fresh out of the ice chest. Cassie grasped the icy bottle, taking a big gulp, and felt the cool, bitter liquid cascade down her throat, a flood of memories coming with it. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but a beer on the beach? Oh, yeah. She wasn’t going to pass that up.

  “Ah, the beach,” she said to Taylor, who wore the same contented smile Cassie did as they sat on the cliff and looked out to the water, listening to the waves crash against the shore.

  Cassie and Taylor made quick work of igniting the water heater, lighting the old Servel propane refrigerator and making sure the water was flowing. They worked as a team on auto-pilot as they had many times before, completing the checklist with a fully operational house. They plunked onto their beach chairs, pleased with their work.

  Pointing her thumb to the short road that would lead them there, Cassie asked, “Want to head down to the beach?”

  “I know you want to check if you can see any vaquita, Cass, but I think a short siesta is in order for me. I drove, remember? You napped,” Taylor said with a roll of her eyes.

  Cassie smiled as her friend pulled out the hammock and set it up outside on the patio. Grabbing a chair and an umbrella, she said, “Suit yourself. I’m going to change and head down. I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter 4

  Alex pressed his thumbs to his eyes as he came out of a deep sleep. The hum of the jet engines had done him in shortly after takeoff. He leaned forward to look out the window, wondering how long he’d slept.

  It had felt good. He didn’t sleep much regularly when he was at home, and after his conversation with his mother the previous night, sleep had eluded him more than usual.

  “Why do you want to visit early? I thought we’d agreed to fly in the day of the news conference and return the same evening. Just as we always do.”

  “Mother, the change in plans for the vaquita sanctuary will require some work by me and Raul. We thought maybe if we went early, we could have it all in place by the time of the news conference. He says we need to be boots on the ground. Why don’t you come with us?”

  He stiffened when his mother blanched. Her eyes grew wide, and she took a step back before she spoke.

  “No. I have no desire to spend time on that beach—in that place. I will come in for the news conference, and that’s all. You go if you want to, you and Raul.”

  She could be difficult sometimes, but overall she was reasonable, and he’d enjoyed his years working for the family company, earning his position as CEO. And in all that time, he’d never seen her quite like this.

  He’d shaken his head at her obstinance, but still didn’t want to rock the boat.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Raul said from his overstuffed leather chair on the opposite side of the company jet’s cabin.

  Alex peered out his own window, blinking as the sun reflected off the blue water of the Sea of Cortez. He could still see the mainland side of the sea, but it faded as they approached the peninsula of Baja California. Fishing boats of all sizes dotted the water, and as they reached lower altitudes, he could tell the difference between the larger shrimp boats and the smaller fishing boats, called pangas.

  He watched as the jet descended and flew over the beach, and passed the property that would become Rancho Costa Azul.

  As they crossed over, Raul gave him a running commentary. “And that right there, that little lagoon, is where the high-rises will be. The swimming pool will be behind it, and the tennis courts will be a little further south. Kind of where the beach is where the vaquita sanctuary will be—um, was going to be, I mean. Do you want to see? I can point it out—”

  “No, thank you.” Alex cut him off. He knew where it was on the map and he didn’t need to see it, now that it wasn’t going to exist, anyway.

  As the pilot flew past the property and circled for a landing on the solitary landing strip, the company had engineered, Alex looked across the valley toward the towering mountains miles across the desert. Cactus were everywhere, and the beauty of the desert differed greatly from property he’d seen in a while. It was like Cabo San Lucas, but less tropical. Less green, mostly. But beautiful nonetheless. He could see why his father was eager to develop the property—although as he scouted the horizon, it appeared that there was no other civilization nearby.

  As the plane circled, though, to the south there were small groups of what looked like homes, and maybe a tiny town—called a poblado—a bit further down the single paved road that went in a straight line from north to south. He’d read all of this in the assessment reports and had wondered at the time why the cost of the project would be on the relatively high side. Now, he knew. There were no gas stations, no infrastructure really to speak of. Just a road. They’d have to start from scratch even to generate electricity, which explained vividly the need for a wide expanse of solar panels.

  “I suppose I didn’t realize quite how remote this spot was. I haven’t been here since I was a small child.”

  Raul practically vibrated out of his seat with enthusiasm.

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you. This is a golden opportunity to build a resort completely off grid. It’s never been done before quite like this. If we can pull this off, and market this way, ECO-tourists and fishermen from all around the world will want to stay here. It will be a marvel of forward-thinking infrastructure.”

  Alex glanced over at his friend. “You’ve been talking about this since we were in college. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention with all the other things we’ve got going on. It’s not exactly as if you have a choice here. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

  Raul narrowed his eyes. “That’s the great part. Opening up the beauty of this area without spoiling the rest of it. The resort will be practically the only thing here.”

  “It won’t be for long,” Alex muttered under his breath, not wanting to spoil his friend’s excitement. But he was certain that the people from the Scripps’ Institute weren’t the only ones who’d be unhappy with what they had planned here. And he wasn’t looking forward to hearing about that, either.

  It wasn’t long after the wheels had touch ground that Alex and Raul were situated in a nice—if a bit primitive for Alex’s taste—casita at the existing tiny resort, Rancho Del Sol. Its two bedrooms and enjoining kitchen looked somehow familiar to Alex, and he wondered if this was where his family stayed when he was young. That would have been when his grandfather brought property here. It was the only actual restaurant and motel in the vicinity and had a certain rustic—charm, if Alex had to admit it. Apparently, the famous Baja 1,000 off-road race came by here and stickers from various race crews covered an entire wall in the restaurant, he’d noticed when they checked in.

  Alex looked out the window at the beach, the palm-frond-covered umbrellas and the colorful beach chairs. The fronds covering the palapas swayed in the wind, and the waves gently lapped at the shore. When they’d checked in, they’d rented a small jeep as Alex wanted to explore the property over the course of the week, but for now, it might be fun to drive down the beach.

  “You don’t need to ask me twice,” Raul said as he headed to his bedroom to change.

  Alex did the same, and before long they were in the Jeep headed toward the beach. Alex loved driving, and he didn’t get to do it much back home. The car and driver were always ready to pick him up, or he would just walk if his destination was close enough. So he gripped the steering wheel and revved the engine as he and Rau
l surveyed the miles and miles of beach in both directions.

  “Which way?”

  Raul leaned forward and looked north, then south. “Well, we own three miles of beach in both directions. We need to check it all out, eventually. How about south for now? I noticed a lot of houses in that direction and I’d like to see what that’s about.”

  Alex nodded at his project manager, who thankfully knew a lot more about the project than he did. He’d been a little hands-off with this as his parents didn’t seem to be too interested—until recently—and he’d had lots of other irons in the fire. Turning the Jeep south, now, and feeling the wind in his hair and feeling the salt spray on his face, it suddenly seemed a much more interesting project than it ever had before.

  Chapter 5

  Cassie’s head cleared on the short walk down to the beach. Her umbrella set up and her chair perched perfectly underneath it in the shade, she strolled to the shore, inhaling deeply. She scouted for shells on her way and tossed a few in her pocket. Finally, her toes tingling as they wriggled in the sand, she felt the cool water lap at her feet.

  She looked up to the sound of mechanical music and smiled at the familiar sight of the Pina Colada truck approaching. The lime green truck with wide tires barreled down the beach, stopping at every group of people under colorful umbrellas, trying to make a sale.

  The drinks were cool and sweet, served out of half a pineapple, and they were a tourist favorite. She considered herself a local, though, and would wait for a margarita or something later after she got back to the house. She jumped at the honk of the truck as it passed by, shaking her head and declining the offer.

  She returned to her vigil, trying to spy a vaquita, when she heard the pina colada truck flagged down by two men speaking rapid Spanish. A bit down the beach, a tall man with wavy brown hair in swim trunks flagged down the truck as he and his friend walked over to buy a drink. Sleek and self-assured, he wasn’t the usual beach guy she’d been used to down here. Definitely not a local.