by Isabel Jolie
Twenty-four hours a day we had between three to six officers on duty, but it wasn’t enough to be everywhere. We also didn’t offer lifeguard service on the beach. But we stepped in to warn people of unexpected dangers, like rip tides or sharks. The biggest danger lay in tourists who weren’t familiar with the ocean and didn’t know what conditions to be wary of. I made a mental note that I’d have to put beach safety in Jim’s report—and mitigation of legal risk. The US was nothing if not a litigious society.
I hopped on the public safety ATV and headed out to East Beach to check conditions. It was high tide, and the ocean narrowed the stretch of sand. I lumbered along, keeping a careful eye out for sand shovels and buckets, towels or anything else the big rubber tires might trounce over. I focused primarily on the shoreline, the direction of the waves and the swimmers, but I took a second glance at the green beach cottage, nestled back beyond the dunes. I could see only the shingled roof and the top floor of the home from the sandy shoreline.
The swirl of the sea foam told the tale of strong current. Most parents had called their kids in close, recognizing the powerful undertow. One father stood two feet in, yelling at a child jumping wake that the current was too strong and to come closer in. The surf school sat around in foldable chairs, munching on sandwiches.
Farther down the beach, an attractive, fit woman with a white sports bra jogged at a steady clip with her long-haired dog keeping pace directly at her side. Her white top set off a deep tan, and her straight black ponytail swung from side to side. As she drew closer, I prickled with recognition. Cali.
The noon sun, high above, beat down directly overhead. My thumb slipped off the ATV gas, and I slowed to a stop.
She dropped to a walk as she entered the more crowded section of East Beach, checked her wrist, and wiped sweat from her brow. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air. Her jog bra cupped perfectly proportioned breasts. My gaze fell to her trim waist, flat belly, and ridiculously short jogging shorts, then down those lean, long legs. She leaned over one leg, stretching her calf and thigh muscles. I sped up, seeing my chance.
“Nice day for a run,” I shouted over the hum of the motor engine and the crash of waves.
She placed her hand on her forehead, sheltering her deep brown eyes from the overhead sun, and a slow smile spread as recognition dawned. The upward curve of her lips struck me as a good sign.
“Not too hot. You out checking conditions? I saw they raised the red flag.”
I nodded and set the brake on my ATV. I hopped off and walked up to her, bending down to greet her dog, who eyed me warily. I held out a hand for him. His dark eyes tracked my movement. I glanced up at Cali, questioning.
She reached down and scratched between the dog’s ears and muttered something to him. The tip of his nose pressed into my palm. I scratched behind his ears, like she had, and his tail wagged.
“He likes you.”
“Are you surprised?” She sounded surprised. The bright sun impeded my upward view of her facial expression.
“No. But he is a good judge of character. If he growls at someone, I listen.”
“Do you run every day?” Beads of sweat ran down her chest, and I imagined it ran between her breasts. I forced my gaze up to her face and to her shiny, thick black ponytail.
“I jog at lunch to get Nym out of the house and give him some exercise. I’ve got to get back. Nice to see you.”
“I should get back to my rounds.” I glanced at my ATV, swallowed, pushed down some unruly nerves, and asked, “Hey, I was going to ask you. Would you like to go out sometime? For dinner?”
“Oh. Ah, thank you, but now isn’t a good time.”
“I didn’t mean right now.” She fidgeted and angled her body toward the green house on the hill. “I mean if you’re not—”
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze remained downward as she added, “It was nice to meet you.”
She rushed up the beach, and I called out to her retreating back, “Cali.” She stopped, once again shielding her eyes from the sun as she spun to hear me. “We can hang as friends. Us single divorcees need to stand by each other.”
Her plump lips curled ever so slightly, and I thought I saw a tilt of her chin, maybe a tiny nod. “Sure. I’ll see you around.” She spun back toward her house with Nym at her side.
Shot down on my first attempt at a date, post-divorce. I could hear my platoon in the back of my head howling with laughter. The thing was, I wasn’t hitting on a random girl in a bar. The island was tiny, and off season lurked in our future. I’d see her around.
I completed my beach patrol, watching the waters, with my thoughts on the dark-haired mystery. Divorce was an ugly thing. I lived it and bore the scars. I wasn’t blowing smoke when I offered her my friendship. She might simply need to find her way out of the pain. I knew something about that.
Chapter 4
Cali
* * *
The whimper cut through the marsh symphony, and I stopped short, searching for Nym.
“Nym. Here.”
Another whimper cut through the air. A chill swept over me as I circled, searching the low-lying ferns, past the grasses lining the marsh water. Crickets and frogs chattered continuously, immune to my presence. My breathing quickened.
The tips of his ears shone above the grasses. I exhaled loudly, relief pouring out.
“Nym! Here.”
His head bowed down, out of sight, then up, then out of sight, then up. He held his right paw suspended in the air, never allowing it to touch the ground.
“Oh, Nym. What did you do, baby?” I rushed over to him and felt down his leg. I snapped my hand back as something cut into it. “Ow.”
He stood, obedient as ever, but instinctively jerked as I returned to his leg and his paw. Visible sand spurs dotted his left leg.
“Oh, baby,” I groaned. “You’re eaten up in them.” I sat down, trying to get a closer look at his paw so he wouldn’t have to limp home. I couldn’t see through the thick black fur, but I could feel. Several thorny pieces were bound down into the curves of his paw. With care, I dug my thumb against one. A sharp sting punctured my finger.
“Ow.” A droplet of blood oozed off the pad of my thumb. I needed light and scissors to dig the burrs out. The evening dusk had set over the marsh, and nestled in the woods, I couldn’t see the culprits to effectively work at them.
“Okay, boy. This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to carry you.”
He weighed in at sixty-five pounds. I wrapped my arms around his waist and lifted. My back ached, and I couldn’t right myself. He squirmed, and I gave up, gently setting him back down on the ground.
“So, that didn’t work. All right, let’s see how you do limping. I’m so sorry, boy. We’ve got such a long walk back.”
Nym bobbed along behind me on the narrow path, and I flinched every time he whimpered. At this slower pace, I estimated we had about a forty-five-minute walk in front of us once we made it onto the paved road. A sense of helplessness weighed down. I had a phone in my bag. But I didn’t feel close enough to anyone to call and ask to come out and help. Luna, Tate, and Jasmine had gone into Wilmington for shopping and then dinner. And because of my stupid brother, I’d kept everyone else at arm’s length.
Nym’s whimper hurt. Me maybe more than him. I knelt down to my baby boy and scratched below his ever-alert ear.
“It’s okay. We’re going to get through this. I promise you. We’re survivors. It’s gonna be tough. We’ve got a long walk in front of us. But we’re going to make it home.”
His brown eyes conveyed trust. I patted his head and got an idea. I bent down and picked up his front half, like I sometimes did when I jokingly tried to get him to dance with me at home. Only once or twice had I done it. He wasn’t the type of dog who played around.
“Let’s see if I hold your front half, if it seems easier to walk on your back legs.”
He took a step forward and faltered. I bent over to lower his front body to give him a m
ore natural position. From behind me, the faint sound of wheels on pavement alerted me to a golf cart approaching. I edged us over a bit, although any cart had room to pass without me doing so.
“Do you need help?” I instantly recognized the deep, husky voice. The same voice I’d heard in my head over and over for the last however many days since he asked me to dinner and I gave the world’s most dimwitted response. I gently lowered Nym to his one good front paw and straightened my back, swiping back the hair that fell across my face.
“Hi,” I breathed. In the dim light of the woods, he wore no sunglasses, and the creases between his eyebrows relayed his silent question. “He got wrapped up in sand burrs. Some are in his paw.”
“Those things are vicious.” He grimaced. He got off the cart and came over to look for himself. Nym eyed him suspiciously.
“I don’t think he’ll hurt you, but he’s in pain. I wouldn’t recommend grabbing his paw right now.” Nym qualified as beyond well-trained. He’d had eighteen months of training in Germany. But still. If he got angry, I’d always worried the switch could flip. Erik selected him.
Logan’s hand moved forward, inches from Nym’s paw when a low growl reverberated from deep within his rib cage. Logan withdrew and straightened.
“Maybe we should get him home. Then see what we need to do. Hopefully, we can get those burrs out. The vet only works from the island one day a week, I think on Thursday. If he needs to, though, we can always bring him over to Southport.” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Do you think you can get him onto the back seat?”
“Let’s try it.” I liked that idea a lot more than the alternative of Nym whimpering.
Nym hopped up as directed. He sat on his haunches, paw in the air. I put my arm around him and stroked his soft fur. Logan drove slowly. We talked about the weather and the waves. Typical island conversation.
When he stopped the cart in my driveway, Nym jumped off the cart before either of us could assist. I followed him up the steps and keyed in the code to turn off the house alarm, then pulled the key out of the wristlet I carried with me on walks and unlocked the deadbolt, then unlocked the doorknob.
I glanced up long enough to observe the quizzical expression on Logan’s face. My security system stood out as unusual, but I couldn’t exactly hide it with him standing right beside me.
I opened the door wide for Nym and Logan to enter. Our motion automatically turned on the entry and overhead den lights.
Blood from Nym’s paw dripped onto the light pine floor.
“He’s bleeding.” Shit. I rushed to the kitchen and snatched some paper towels. Logan entered as I ran the paper bundle under the tap.
“Do you have scissors?”
“Yes.” I slid open a narrow kitchen drawer and handed them over.
“Do you think we can get him near a light? A lamp light? Or can you hold your phone’s light over him while I try to get the burrs out?”
“At the kitchen table.” I pointed at the empty set of four chairs as I dashed into the den and yanked at a lamp’s cord, unplugging it from the wall with one swift tug. I set it on the edge of the kitchen table and plugged it in. The overhead kitchen light lit the entire room well, so it didn’t feel necessary to me, but if he wanted to take the lead on removing the sharp objects, I planned to let him.
He lifted the lamp and set it on the ground, then called Nym. Ever obedient, he limped to him.
“I may need you to hold his side, comfort him, calm him down. Say whatever you need to say to set him at ease.”
“Okay.”
He lifted the lampshade and held it over the paw. I couldn’t see what he did, but in less than sixty seconds he held up the offenders coated in black fur.
“I think that’s the worst of it,” he continued, combing over Nym’s fur, periodically slicing chunks of fur to remove more of the additional sharp objects. I held up one long, sharp point, almost an inch long.
“These are no joke.”
“No kidding. One reason you don’t walk through tall grasses barefoot.” His hands stroked all along Nym’s fur, and I stifled my shock when Nym licked his hand.
“I think that’s his way of saying thank you.”
Logan grinned but remained focused, searching throughout his fur for any more offenders. Satisfied he’d gotten them all, he stood and set about cleaning up after himself.
“You don’t need to clean. I’ve got it. Thank you. I really appreciate it. You were great. I…”
My phone vibrated on the counter. The noise grabbed my attention—and Logan’s. I tugged at my hair, setting it behind my ears. My cheeks warmed at the awkwardness in the room. Social situations always set me off. Should I offer him a drink? Did I escort him to the door? What would be expected?
I unzipped the tiny bag and pulled out my phone.
“You use a BlackBerry? I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”
“Yeah,” I commented as I read the text, letting his dig slide. BlackBerry smartphones were the most secure, and my brother insisted I use one. Although I had an iPhone, mostly for apps and playing around. I always kept my BlackBerry on in case my brother needed to reach me.
* * *
24.22.0.24.26.9.22.21.6.15
* * *
My brother and his codes. Knowing I’d have to decipher his code later, I dropped the phone down on the counter, and it clattered against the tile.
“Is there a problem?”
“No. It’s just work.” Logan stepped closer to the counter, and I flipped the phone over, screen down. “I’m sorry. I would invite you to have a drink or something, to thank you.”
“Hey, I understand. No problem. So, you work, in addition to the tutoring you do?” He leaned against the counter and crossed his corded and tanned arms.
Logan’s casual pose and his sexy smile didn’t convey interrogation. Getting to know someone required asking questions. I ran my fingers along my scalp, hating my brother for being right, because these little benign bits of information were what he didn’t want me sharing. But, then again, Logan was a good guy. He cut lethal sand burrs from my dog’s fur. Be smart with what you share.
“I do some contract work. Plus, I take on translation projects. Mostly for books.”
I sensed he wanted to ask more questions, and while I trusted him, I didn’t want to risk upsetting Erik. My brother had enough on his plate. He worried too much about me as it was. I stepped toward the front door, willing Logan forward.
“I understand you’ve got work to do, but I’d like to take a rain check on that drink. If you were serious.” I swung the door open, avoiding his gaze, hoping he didn’t perceive me as rude.
“No pressure. I’m divorced, too. I get it. You’re not ready to date yet. But I seriously think you, me, and an old lady who lives on the marsh are the three single people on the island. And I don’t mean single like that means we need to get together. But… friends can be helpful when you’re coming out of the pain of a divorce. Trust me.”
“You’re a nice guy, but…” I said it more to myself, but he shoved his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders sloped, lending a bashfulness to his stance. My insides twisted and pulsed as his hesitant eyes sought my direct gaze. He anticipated my no, but he faced it head on. I planned to politely decline, but instead, what came out was, “Sure, you’re on for the drink.”
As he walked out the door, his chocolate brown eyes once again sought direct contact. “I’m going to hold you to it.”
“Just let me know when.” I forced myself to look him in the eye as I said it, even though uncertainty that I’d do any such thing prevailed.
“Hey, wait…” He held out his iPhone to me. “Enter your number in.” I stared at the device. “So I can reach you. So we can coordinate that drink.”
Right. I accepted the phone and tapped away, entering the number for my iPhone and only my first name, Cali. When I was in grad school, I had many friends. Even attractive male friends. A drink didn’t have to mean anythin
g at all. I can be careful. I’d never do anything that would endanger my brother.
As I closed the front door and clicked the two locks, a low rendition of Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds” played. I smiled. Mom. I’d picked that ring tone for her because she used to dance with me to that song. I opened the drawer and pulled out my iPhone, and the beat got louder until I slid the bar to answer.
“Cali, did you get my photos?” Mom sent photos and memes and all kinds of fun things to my iPhone. She, of course, didn’t know about my BlackBerry. She could never know all of Erik’s safety precautions. If I followed all of his precautions, I wouldn’t keep the phone on. He believed it was best to keep trackable devices off unless in use.
“I haven’t checked yet. I’ll check once I hang up. Unless, do I need to check now?”
“Oh, no. But do look. I got the best photo of a hummingbird eating from the feeder I hung over by the peony bushes.”
“With your phone?”
“Yes. You won’t believe it. And to think I lugged that heavy camera around for all those years.”
“You’re a photographer. It’s hard for me to imagine you being satisfied with photos on a phone.”
“Right? But this phone does incredible things.” Mom recently upgraded her phone to the modern era. It had been a joyride. “I’m preparing for the future. You know, when I need to photograph those grandbabies.” Right. “Have you heard from your brother?”
“I have.” Very recently. His most recent request stared back at me.
“We saw him last night.”
What? “He was in Seattle?”
“No, he’s so busy these days. We met up with him for dinner in Portland. He had these circles under his eyes. He’s working too hard. I can tell. When you talk to him, how does he sound to you?” Like a little shit.
“Like Erik. He doesn’t say much.” Once I rip into him, he won’t be saying much at all.
“Your dad is so proud of him.”
