Aw, they’re so cute. I made funny faces at them from behind my mask. Then I caught a glimpse of a big dark shadow moving a little farther below. Definitely not cute little fishies.
Something else.
Something big.
Something terrifying.
I knew it. Certain death was circling below me. Soon the water would be a frothing, thrashing scene of unspeakable carnage, and whatever remained of me would be shipped home in a small Tupperware container. I spit out my mouthpiece and ended up taking a huge gulp of salty water. I jerked my head out of the water and started to hyperventilate and wave my arms.
Becca, alarmed by my frantic flailing, popped up beside me and removed her mouthpiece. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Dark! Big! Shadow!” I sputtered.
“That was just a stingray.”
“A stingray?” I continued to cough. “As in huge flapping winged demon with poisonous tail?”
“Only if you get too close. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them. If you don’t bother them, which, clearly, you won’t, they won’t bother you. Trust me. Ready to go back?”
“Becca! What if we see a shark next?”
“That would be so cool!”
“Yeah? In what universe?”
“Aw, don’t be a baby. If we did see one, it’d be deeper below anyway and probably just a cute little nurse shark. I’ve always wanted to pet one.”
“You’re certifiable.”
“People tell me that all the time. But it keeps life interesting, don’t you think?” She winked. “Here’s the thing: the rule of thumb with sharks is to assess them like a dog. Some are aggressive, so you stay away. And some are passive and will let you get close enough to touch them. That’s the kind I’m looking for.”
“Looking for? Are you nuts? Who in their right mind would look for a shark? We need to go back now.”
“No way. This was expensive and we haven’t even seen anything yet. This is the chance of a lifetime. We’re staying.”
“You may be staying, but I’m leaving.”
“I don’t think you want to do that,” Becca said. “A lone swimmer is much more attractive to a shark. And they can sense fear. Given the amount of fear you’re exuding, I’d give you about ten yards before you’re fish food.”
“Are you being serious or just trying to scare me so I stick with your insane adventure?”
Becca simply smiled, stuck her mouthpiece back in, and submerged beneath the water. Clearly the woman I thought was my friend had been abducted by hostile aliens and replaced with the Creature from the Black Lagoon.
I had no choice. Hesitantly, I followed her but stuck to the surface.
Within seconds, another cluster of fish — electric blue with a yellow stripe down their backs — swam by.
Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Maybe the ocean’s not so bad after all. I gently kicked my flippered feet as I glided smoothly along the surface of the giant tropical fish tank, enjoying the marine life all around me. Farther off and a little deeper, I noticed a dark oval shape slowly moving my way. I strained to see through my mask, which was starting to fog up, and then caught my breath as a large sea turtle swam closer. Although he didn’t possess the flamboyance of the tropical fish, his spotted legs and arms captivated me. I stared at his dark, heavy shell as he paddled by — a shell that protects him from sharks and stingrays.
Even I would swim in the deep if I had that kind of shield from danger.
I watched in wonder until my beautiful turtle was out of sight, and then I turned to catch Becca’s eye and give her a major thumbs up.
Only Becca was entranced with her own marine life farther below. I squinted, trying to make out what she was holding. It was a baby Jaws, and not only was Becca holding it, she was petting its belly.
Any minute now the enraged mother shark would emerge from the deep and turn Becca into a modern-day Jonah, swallowing my friend whole. Or not so whole, since it was, after all, a shark.
Spitting my mouthpiece out again — the least of my worries now was gulping salt water — I set a new Olympic speed record as I splashed to shore. A few minutes later, Becca caught up with me on the beach, where I was struggling out of my flippers. “How’d you like your first snorkeling experience?”
“First and last you mean.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’re crazy. Petting a Mini-Me Jaws! Who do you think you are — some sort of aqueous X-Men mutant?”
“Chill. It wasn’t any big deal.”
“It was to me. You totally freaked me out.”
Becca’s mouth said I’m sorry, but her eyes were still sparkling from the experience.
My turtle had put the same sparkle in my eyes, but a turtle is a far cry from a shark. I shook my head to clear it of the scary movie theme music and my saltwater-drenched ponytail smacked my cheek. The next time Becca tried to talk me into one of her dangerous adventures, I was bringing along reinforcements.
If I’d been with Chris, this wouldn’t have happened, right? Like Becca, my beloved — former beloved — was also a thrill seeker. He’d have had me in that water in nothing flat. And although I’d have protested all the way, I’d have done it.
For him.
My shoulders slumped. What had happened to make Chris bail at the last minute? What did I do?
Or was it what I didn’t do?
We showered at one of the outdoor cabanas, changed into shorts and tanks, and met Tess at Cabo Wabo’s, where she was already tasting the Wabo-Rita. She nodded to her glass and held up two fingers to the approaching waiter.
I reminded my aunt that I was a Diet Coke girl.
“I know. But this is a special occasion. You’re on vacation. Time to live a little. Besides, one margarita’s not going to hurt you. Trust your Aunt Tess.” She waved a glossy brochure. “Guess where we’re going this afternoon?”
“If you say scuba-diving, I’m going to throw up.”
Becca’s eyes brightened.
“Not to worry. You need lessons for that, anyway. No, I had something else in mind.” Tess paused, and then said in a sonorous tone, “Call me Ishmael.”
Moby Dick had been one of our classics last year in book club. Most of us found it too long and boring to get through. But not Tess. She loved it.
Every interminable page.
I gaped at her. “You want us to go whale hunting? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Yes, but whale watching isn’t.” She read excitedly from the brochure. “Making the longest migration of any mammal, these whales migrate some 6,000 miles south from Alaskan and Siberian waters to winter in the warm waters of Baja California and the Sea of Cortez. Here they find shelter and food and give birth to their young.” Tess looked at us with shining eyes. “Just imagine. We might see a baby whale being born!”
“You already have.” I patted my hips. “Ten pounds, three ounces.”
“Can I continue?”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“Gray whales can weigh up to 73,000 pounds,” she recited. “With long snouts and double blowholes on top of their heads, grays have a hump with dorsal ridges running to their tail in place of a dorsal fin. On a whale watching excursion, you’ll see spouting, breaching, and sounding (showing their flukes), all spectacular sights.”
Tess held up three tickets. “So let’s hurry up and eat, because our boat leaves in forty minutes.”
“No way! Really?” Becca grabbed one of the tickets. “Um, how much were they? My landlord just raised the rent, so things are a little tight. Time to find a new place to live.”
“Don’t worry about it. My treat.”
Becca lived paycheck to paycheck, which was why I was so surprised she was able to join us on the cruise — especially at the last minute. “That’s what plastic is for,” she’d said, brandishing her Visa. “Life’s too short to let a little thing like money stop you from doing what you want.”
Chris had felt the same way about money,
but my responsible self blanched at the notion of spending so recklessly. I’d been a saver ever since I got my first savings account at ten, and I’d been adding to it ever since, only withdrawing from it when absolutely necessary — like when my car needed a new transmission. At the rate I was going, by the end of the year I’d have enough money saved to put a hefty down payment on a nice little house. A house I’d planned to share with Chris and eventually our family.
I took a deep breath of sea air to clear my head of those happily-ever-after thoughts and focused in on the here and now instead. Just in time.
We gasped in unison as a massive gray whale leapt out of the water and splashed back down. Wow. Chris would have loved that. He’s seen whales in Monterey and said it was something he’d never forget.
What’s he doing right now? I thought. Is he still backpacking? Is he thinking about me? Maybe he’s rethinking his decision . . . I know guys get cold feet. And things did move pretty fast — less than three months from the proposal to the wedding.
My fingers slid to my shorts pocket and touched my cell.
No, I’m not going to check to see if he’s called. Probably can’t get a signal out here anyway. I refuse to think about Chris anymore. I’m just going to have a good time with the girls.
“This honeymoon without a husband thing’s really workin’ for me.” I stretched out in my chaise lounge on deck the next day, sipping a pink tropical drink and basking in the sun in my navy one-piece. (I’d nixed the thong bikini idea.)
“Me too.” From her matching chaise lounge next to mine, Tess stole a look over her sunglasses at four tanned beach boys with great abs playing water volleyball in the nearby pool.
“Down, girl.”
“Nothing wrong with looking.”
Yes there was. If I looked at their toned chests and six pack abs, I’d be reminded of Chris’s strong, comforting chest, which I should have been cozying up to this very minute on our honeymoon.
I buried my nose further in my book, but the wind made my flyaway hair obscure some of the words. I sighed and yanked my hair back yet again into my one-size-fits-all ponytail.
“Hey guys, I have a great idea!” Becca plopped down on a nearby deck chair, today wearing her sleek orange one-piece that resembled the old Baywatch babes’ swimsuits — minus the jiggle. Becca was lean and lithe.
“For book club,” she continued, “instead of just talking about the books we read every month, why don’t we live out some of the adventures in the books? Wouldn’t that be cool?”
Tess gave Becca her Lauren Bacall half-lidded look. “You want us to cut off our hair like Jo and sell it so Marmee has enough money to visit Father in the hospital?”
“Oh.” Becca did that little moue thing with her mouth. “I forgot Little Women is our next book.”
“Which means you haven’t even started reading it yet.” I held up my dog-eared copy. “How do you plan to have it finished by next week?”
“No prob. I’m a fast reader. I already read it years ago, so I just need to give it a quick skim.”
“Sacrilege!” I clasped my hand over my heart. “You can’t give Jo a quick skim. Or Beth. Or — ”
“Amy,” Tess said. “Especially Amy. She wouldn’t like it at all.”
“All right already. Calm down. I promise to give the March girls my undivided attention later if you’ll give me yours now.” Becca scooted closer. “Don’t you think it’d be great? I got the idea yesterday when we were whale watching, Tess, and you said, ‘Now I know how Captain Ahab felt.’ That stuck in my mind and I started thinking how fun it would be if we could actually live out some of the same adventures the characters in our books do. How exciting is that?”
She snapped her fingers. “I know! We could read Into Thin Air and go mountain climbing!”
“Isn’t that the one where all those people died on Mount Everest?”
“They didn’t all die. The author didn’t. And it’s a great book.” Becca got a far-off look in her eyes as she looked out to sea. “Or, we could read A Perfect Storm and go fishing on a boat.”
“No way. I saw the movie, and they all died.”
“But that was in the Atlantic Ocean, not the Pacific, which is more peaceful. The name even means that.”
“Name-schmame, it can still capsize a boat during a storm,” I said. “Can’t you come up with something a little less hazardous?”
“Like what? Sense and Sensibility? Pride and Prejudice?”
“Careful now,” Tess said. “Don’t be dissin’ my Jane Austen.”
“Sorry. I was just looking for a little more action — something to liven up the book club and maybe attract more members.”
“Speaking of attracting . . .” Tess lowered her voice. “You’re attracting a couple admirers.”
We glanced at the pool. Two of the fab-ab boys smiled and waved.
Becca turned her back to them. “Not interested. Surfer dudes aren’t my style. I like a guy with more intellect, less testosterone.”
“I’ll take both,” Tess said. “Might as well go for the brass ring. And you never know. One of those guys could be a nuclear physicist.”
Becca snorted. “They probably can’t even spell nuclear physicist.”
“N-u-c-l-e-a-r p-h-y-s-i-c-i-s-t.” A bronzed, dripping Adonis appeared behind Becca. She had the grace to blush. But by now he’d turned his attention to me.
“Great book. Jo’s my favorite.” The sun bounced off his pearly whites. “I’m Ben. Would you like to get together later and debate whether Meg should have married Mr. Brooke or held out for a rich guy?”
I didn’t care how good-looking he was or how much he loved Jo, the last thing I was in the market for right now was a man.
“No, thanks. I’m actually on my honeymoon.”
3
Her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degree of popularity for a woman neither young, handsome, rich, nor married.
Emma
“Did you have a nice time, dear?”
I set my suitcase down and raised an eyebrow at my mother, who blushed and began to stammer. “I mean I know the hon-uh, trip wasn’t what you’d planned, but I was hoping you had some fun. You usually do with your aunt Tess.”
Was that a hint of jealousy I detected? Nah. Mom had Julia the Perfect to bond with over sewing and Sunday school. Tess and I had always shared the books connection, ever since she began reading bedtime stories to me when I was little.
Her eyes flicked to the bare arms I was releasing from my sweater. “I see you got a nice tan.”
“I went snorkeling with Becca.”
“In the ocean? You?”
I bit back a sarcastic reply. Mom was trying. Clumsily, but still. She, more than most, knew my track record with water.
“It was great. Amazing, in fact. Until Becca started playing with a shark.”
“A shark?” She paled. “You were in the water with a shark?”
“Not for long. I got out of there fast. And it was a pretty small shark. Becca was having fun petting its belly, but I wasn’t about to go there.”
“I wouldn’t have either. That girl certainly is a daredevil, isn’t she?”
“Yep.”
My mother had a hard time understanding how Becca and I could be friends. Becca was the wild-and-crazy adventure girl, who’d lived in seven states before she was eighteen and loved to push the envelope, while I was safe, stay-at-home Chloe, who’d lived in the same town my whole life and wouldn’t know how to open the envelope much less push it.
“Okay if I do a load of laundry?” I started pulling dirty clothes out of my suitcase. “I want to get all the salt water out of my clothes.”
Mom scooped up the pile of clothes and fluttered past me to the garage door. “I’ll do that for you. Why don’t you sit down and have a cup of coffee and a piece of blueberry streusel coffee cake?”
“You don’t have to do my laundry for me anymore.” I followed my mother out to the two-car garage. “I’m a big
girl now. I know how to separate whites from — ” A stack of silver and white packages on one of the utility shelves caught my eye. “What are those?”
She hesitated. “Some wedding presents that came in the mail. We weren’t quite sure what to do with them, so we stuck them there for now.”
“I’ll tell you what we can do with them. Throw them in the trash.” I inclined my head to the largest package. “Starting with that one.”
“You can’t! That’s from your Great-Aunt Jenny back in Iowa. You know she’s on a fixed income. She probably saved and saved to get you that gift. The least we can do is send it back so she can return it and get her money back. That’s the proper etiquette when a wedding’s been called off.”
My mother, Emily Post.
But she was right. I didn’t want my friends and relatives to have to pay for Chris’s last-minute change of heart. I just didn’t know if I had the heart to deal with it.
Mom gave my shoulder a tentative squeeze. “I’ll return them all for you if you like.”
“Thanks.” Then I noticed one box that stood out from the rest. A brown moving box with an envelope taped to the top, bearing my name. I sat down abruptly on the step, recognizing the familiar handwriting.
“Chris and Ryan stopped by yesterday with some of your things,” Mom said gently.
Back-to-reality slap.
Hard.
In the face.
I pushed my glasses up over my forehead and rubbed my eyes.
“I’m afraid your father gave Chris a piece of his mind, and so did I.”
“You did?” I dropped my glasses back down to stare through them at my placid, Proverbs 31 mother. “What did you say?”
“I don’t remember exactly.” She gave an embarrassed shrug. “I may have used the words jerk and wimp though.”
Who’d have thought? Words like that weren’t in her usual vocabulary. But then, this wasn’t a usual occurrence.
My eyes were drawn back to the envelope. I wonder what the jerk has to say. Although . . . was he really a jerk? Just a week ago he was the love of my life. Funny how things can change in a heartbeat. Maybe he was going to say it was all a mistake. That he was sorry and he’d just gotten cold feet and was begging my forgiveness.
Daring Chloe Page 3
