by Brenda Hiatt
He stared at me for a second, then said, “You know, you’re a pretty cool lady. I’m lucky you were my partner.” Then, clearly embarrassed, he turned away to remove his fins.
I was reminded of Tom, my ex. He’d have been just as embarrassed to admit to any fault, but probably would have deflected it by finding something to criticize in my own diving or appearance. With a flash of insight, I suddenly realized that I wouldn’t have enjoyed this dive half as much if he’d been with me.
I moved closer to the boat, awkwardly trying to pull off my own fins without losing them or drifting away on the gentle swells, waiting my turn to climb the ladder.
Poor Linda needed both her husband’s help and Ronan’s, and still almost fell backward into the sea. I was torn between feeling sorry for her and worrying that I’d have the same trouble. Rick made it up the ladder and onto the boat without assistance, and then I was next.
I’d managed to get both of my fins off and now handed them up to the waiting Ronan. He set them behind him, then moved to the ladder to reach out a hand as I heaved myself out of the water.
A wet wetsuit weighed a lot more than a dry one, more than making up for my air tank being emptier. It took all my strength to climb the ladder, and I was definitely grateful for Ronan’s helping hand.
“Thanks,” I panted as I got my feet under me on the deck.
“My pleasure,” he replied with a grin that almost made me believe he meant it.
I reined in the little flutter I got from that grin, reminding myself that with someone like Bebe on board, Ronan was hardly likely to be flirting with me.
“You okay?” he asked, and I realized I’d spaced out for a moment.
“Oh, yeah, fine.” How smooth was that? Forcing my lips into something I hoped resembled a carefree smile, I made my way back to my spot on the left bench, eager to get the heavy tank off my back.
Jason brought up the rear, folding up the ladder after climbing it with no apparent effort. I found myself envying the guys’ strength, which gave them a definite advantage in the out-of-water part of diving.
“So, how did everybody like your first open water dive?” he asked. Everyone, even Linda, managed at least a weak grin for him, while Bebe, Dobry, and I gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Great. Our second dive today will be Malmok Reef and the wreck of the Debbie II. We’re going to almost sixty feet this time, which means the safety stop on the way up is especially important. We’ll spend about fifteen minutes exploring the reef, then use our compasses to navigate to the Debbie II. This is a pretty cool dive, so those of you with cameras be sure to bring them along.”
The boat ride to the next site was only a few minutes, barely giving us time to change air tanks. Since Rick would be my partner again, I swapped mine out as quickly as I could, then watched him finish up his. I was glad to see that he seemed to be taking more care this time. Still, when he bent to put his flippers back on, I quickly reached behind him to double check his hose connections.
I snatched my arm back when he started to sit up, then noticed Ronan watching me from the bridge. Was that a wink, or just wishful thinking?
“Everyone ready?” Jason asked as the boat bobbed gently near the mooring ball.
We all nodded, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
“All right, same order as before. Masks and fins on and let’s go.”
I was definitely more eager than nervous this time as I took my big step off the back of the boat, and I felt more natural in the water than I’d have believed possible back on the dock an hour and a half ago. Scuba diving really was fun. I couldn’t wait to tell my daughters.
Malmok Reef was alive with a fascinating variety of life—fantastic fan and barrel coral in an array of colors, swaying urchins, and dozens of fish. One long, skinny fish seemed to be almost half mouth, looking for all the world like some kind of alien life form. Again, I wished for a camera.
After fifteen minutes, Jason had us consult our compasses to swim south-southwest. The huge hulk of the Debbie II loomed above us as we approached, ghostly through the deep blue of the water. Even though Jason had told us the 120-foot-long fuel barge was deliberately sunk, I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the sight of its yawning portals.
We swam upward along the hull of the wreck until we reached its deck, complete with railings. I was reminded of the movie Titanic and tried to imagine what the Debbie II must have looked like with its surfaces intact, its railings polished instead of encrusted with marine life.
Making sure I didn’t lose sight of Rick, I moved slowly along the deck with its gaping hatches leading down into darkness. Clouds of tiny silver fish darted in and out of the openings, weaving around the rails. A dull clanging of metal on metal brought my attention back to Jason, who this time motioned us to follow him down the far side of the hull.
When we reached the bottom of the ship, he pointed. Wedged between the base of the wreck and the ocean floor was another green moray eel, this one at least three times the size of the one we’d seen at the Pedernales site. I noticed that Jason kept a much more respectful distance from this monster.
Greg snapped a couple of pictures, then everyone moved on—except me. I continued to examine the eel, fascinated that something that size could make its living in such an out-of-the way place. What did it eat? Unwary divers? It seemed almost big enough, more than a foot in diameter behind its tapering head. Impossible to tell how long it was, as its length disappeared beneath the ship. I was guessing at least ten or twelve feet.
As I started to turn away to follow the others, a glint caught my eye. I sharpened my gaze and swam a little—only a little—closer. It looked like a ring, perched on a sandy little shelf jutting out from the wreck, several feet above and to the left of the eel. I gauged my distance to the ring and then the distance from the ring to the enormous moray. Did I dare?
I dared. Maybe I surprised the eel as much as myself, because it didn’t make a move toward me until I was already retreating, the ring—and a good bit of sand—clutched in my fist. Then I saw the thing coming at me and flung myself backward, kicking my flippers toward its gaping mouth, protecting my hands and face.
For a moment I thought it might grab my right fin, so I kicked harder. To my relief, it retreated back into its sanctuary, looking more irritated than ever. My heart was pounding, and I was probably using twice the air I should be, but I was safe—and so was my treasure.
I looked down at the ring in my hand, letting the sand sift away between my fingers. It appeared to be a wedding band, adorned with several respectably-sized stones—diamonds or cubic zirconia. A woman’s ring, from the size of it.
Had some woman done exactly what I’d planned and pitched it into the ocean to throw off the bonds of matrimony? Amusing to think so, though more likely it was lost accidentally.
The light was too dim for a thorough examination, so I tucked the ring into one of the zippered pockets of my vest and looked up, to see that the others were almost out of sight.
I hurried after them, my pulse and breathing slowing. I’d done something brave, all on my own, and I had the prize to prove it.
If my life were a movie, ominous music might have warned me right then that this was a major turning point. But since it wasn’t, I didn’t have even the slightest sense of foreboding to mar my triumph.
Chapter Three
BY THE TIME I reached the others, they were preparing to surface. They’d been playing with a sea urchin, a thing about six inches in diameter that looked like a little white hedgehog. No one looked around when I joined them, and I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that they weren’t worried about me, or insulted that no had noticed I was missing.
We ascended in the same order as before, and this time Rick did a much better job of controlling his speed. I was proud of him, I realized, as we paused for ou
r fifteen foot safety stop. I still wouldn’t wish him on one of my daughters, but maybe he wasn’t a complete idiot after all.
I was more prepared for the weight of my suit and tank as I came out of the water this time, but I was also more tired, which meant I was still grateful for Ronan’s help getting up the ladder.
We were done for the day, so I wasted no time getting out of my vest and weight belt, then unzipping my wetsuit. The breeze felt chilly on my exposed wet skin, though I knew it was at least eighty degrees. Even as I thought it, my goose bumps started to subside.
“Everyone start breaking down your equipment,” Jason told us as Ronan started the boat’s engine for the trip back to shore. “Turn off your air first.”
I turned around and disconnected the hoses from my tank, remembering to put the dust cover over the regulator opening. Rick actually thanked me when I reminded him of that step.
By the time we reached the dock, we’d all stripped out of our wetsuits and piled our gear near the back of the boat. Belatedly, I remembered the ring I’d found, and fished through the heap of BCDs to find my vest and pull the ring out of the little zippered pocket.
“What have you got there?” Ronan’s voice startled me.
I turned to see him standing on the dock just behind me, hauling the rear line to a cleat. With an embarrassed smile—embarrassed mainly because I found the man so darned attractive—I held up the ring.
“Something I found on the bottom. Do you think it’s real?”
He shrugged without really looking at it, but then smiled at me before he finished tying up the boat. He had a great smile.
I stuck the ring in my shorts pocket and focused instead on the circus act of carrying all of my wet equipment without dropping anything or soaking my shorts. We paused at the water barrel to rinse the saltwater off of our gear, then continued to the shop, where Jason congratulated us on our performance.
“We had one or two little glitches,” he said, glancing at Rick and Linda, “but for a first dive, you all did great. We’ll meet back here at nine tomorrow morning for more of the same, then a quick review in the classroom, and then you’ll all be certified divers.”
Our tired group managed a ragged cheer, and I was surprised to hear myself joining in—a real part of the crowd. It felt good. When they started debating where to have lunch, I was included in the discussion as a matter of course.
Ronan joined us just as we agreed on pizza as something quick and filling. I felt a silly, age-inappropriate thrill when he said he’d come along, and another one when we reached the restaurant and he sat next to me. I was trying to think of something clever but nonchalant to say when Jason spoke from across the table.
“Wynne, did I hear you telling Ronan that you found something during the dive?”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me.” I dug into my shorts pocket, very aware of Ronan watching and wishing I had it in me to be smooth. “Look, everyone,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the excited babble. “I found this at the end of our dive.”
“Cool! Where was it?” Rick asked.
“Ooh, diamonds!” Linda and Bebe chorused.
“That’ll be worth something,” Greg opined.
For the first time, I was able to take a good look at the ring myself, and I realized Greg was right—if it was real. Together, the seven marquis-cut diamonds had to total more than four carats, and the ring itself looked like white gold or platinum.
I didn’t own a lot of jewelry myself, but between avid window-shopping, the few purchases I’d made over the years and Tom’s insurance business, I knew enough about it to guess the ring’s value at something over twenty thousand dollars—if it was real.
I passed the ring around the table. When it got to him, Ronan held it just a bit longer than the others had, turning it this way and that.
“What?” I asked him.
“Nothing. Just that it’s inscribed,” he said, handing it back to me.
Holding the ring so the light caught it better, I realized he was right. For a long moment I debated with myself, but curiosity won out over vanity, and I pulled my reading glasses out of my purse.
“Stefan & Melanie 1998,” it read—along with a Cartier hallmark. Which meant my estimate had been low. And it almost certainly hadn’t been thrown into the ocean on purpose, interesting as that theory had been.
“So, are you going to keep it as a souvenir or sell it?” Linda asked, voicing the very question I’d been asking myself before reading the inscription.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I should probably try to find out who it belongs to first, don’t you think?”
“Seriously?” Rick sounded incredulous. “Why bother? Finders keepers.” The others nodded their agreement.
I shrugged, not wanting to come across as some kind of goodie-two-shoes. I was just starting to bond with these folks. Odds were no local jewelry store would be able to trace it, so I’d get to keep it anyway.
The pizza arrived then, cutting off further discussion of the ring, which I tucked back into my pocket. I’d planned to tell the story of how I’d snatched it away from the moray eel, but decided against it. I was still more comfortable in the background, I realized, for all the progress I thought I’d made the past few days.
I was content to sit and listen while everyone else shared stories and impressions from our first real dives.
“It was almost like flying underwater,” Bebe declared. “Did it seem that way to the rest of you?”
Linda shook her head. “I didn’t really notice. I’m still pretty nervous down there—and I thought it would take me forever to get down there! Why do I have so much more trouble equalizing than the rest of you?”
Rick, I noticed, kept quiet while the others offered various—and conflicting—bits of advice.
“You just need to blow harder,” Greg told her.
“Just think your way through it,” Bebe suggested.
“Slow is fine,” I said when Linda began to look confused. “Better to have two or three fewer minutes on the bottom than to break an eardrum.”
Beside me, Ronan nodded. “Wynne’s right. In diving, speed isn’t the point. It’s about safety and being comfortable in the water. It’s supposed to be fun.”
“So why don’t you come down with us tomorrow?” Bebe asked. I admired—and envied—the forthright, easy way she was able to flirt.
Ronan grinned. “Maybe I will, if Bertie’s recovered from his bender. Someone’s got to stay on the boat.”
I concentrated on how good the pepperoni and mushroom pizza tasted—the first pizza I’d had in months—instead of on how out of practice I was at flirting. Not that I’d been particularly good at it even in my prime. I had other skills to compensate.
Didn’t I?
Of course I did. I was an excellent business manager, or had been a dozen years ago. I’d raised two great kids, I was a pretty decent cook. And I was learning to scuba dive. How many women my age did that? Not many, judging by our class and the group I’d seen boarding another dive boat this morning. That made me feel a little better.
We lingered over lunch, commenting on the amazing appetite diving gave us. As we were chipping in on the check, I realized I’d eaten four slices of pizza. Just as well I’d already decided a bikini would never be my style.
As we left the restaurant, Bebe somehow ended up between me and Ronan, talking to him animatedly but still very naturally. I shrugged mentally and waved a cheery goodbye to everyone before heading back to my hotel. It’s not like I’d expected anything to come of it, after all. I was only a few weeks divorced and definitely not looking for another man.
With that settled, I breathed deeply as I walked through the beautiful open-air lobby to the elevators. Housekeeping had already been to my room—the bed smoothly made and fresh to
wels in the bathroom, through no effort of my own. I could get used to this sort of life.
I unplugged my cell phone from its charger by the nightstand and woke it up. Two messages. Taking another deep breath, this time in an effort to preserve my contented mood no matter what, I went out onto the balcony to play my voice mail.
The first was from Bess, finally returning the message I’d left her two days ago. I couldn’t help grinning as I listened.
“Hey, Mom, I guess Deb wasn’t kidding—I got her voice mail before yours. Aruba, huh? I think that’s great. Haven’t I been saying you need to get out more? I only wish you’d brought me along. But then I’d have missed last night’s audition, which went really well. Give me a call, and I’ll tell you about it. And have fun!”
That was Bess, my free-spirited firstborn. I wondered if her audition had been for singing or acting, since she was trying to break into both professionally. Or maybe even dancing, which she’d taken up a few months ago. There were times I wanted to be Bess when I grew up, she had so much confidence and joie de vivre.
Maybe I’d taken my first step by coming to Aruba.
The second message was from my mother—and did not elicit a grin. “Wynne, sweetie, where are you? I’ve been calling your house for two days and finally thought to try your cell phone, but you’re not answering that, either. I’ve got some news you’ll want to hear, so please call me when you get this.”
I stared at my phone for a long minute, debating. If anyone was likely to spoil my mood, it was Mom, with her sweetly worded suggestions on how I ought to be living my life. She hadn’t said whether her news was good or bad. Maybe she’d won the lottery. Or maybe she had cancer. I hit the return call button.
“Mom?”
“Wynne! Where on earth have you been? Debra wouldn’t tell me, which seemed terribly odd. You’re not in some sort of trouble, are you? This would be such a bad time—”
“No, Mom, I’m not in trouble. I’m just out of town. What’s your news?”
She chuckled—that chuckle that always got my back up, for some reason. “It’s not my news, sweetie. More your news, I’d say. I heard Tom finally dumped that blonde he left you for.”
