Shore Feels Right

by Annette Mardis

Dani had just begun tackling her daunting to-do list when her mother’s phone call threatened to turn those preparations inside out and sideways.

  * * * *

  “I know you’ve hinted about getting married down there, but I’m so happy you’re having it right here in Jefferson City,” Rita Davidson crowed. “Your grandmother’s being absolutely impossible. She’s determined to hate everything about her new apartment.” Dani’s parents had just placed Elena Bingham in an assisted living facility in their Missouri hometown.

  “And she told me in no uncertain terms that she’s gone eighty-two years without flying in an airplane and doesn’t intend to start now. We tried to take her to the airport—she’s never stepped foot in one, can you believe that?—so she could see it’s not so scary, but she refused to leave her rocking chair. She had such a death grip on the armrests her fingers turned white. And driving to Gulf Shore is out, too, I’m afraid. Eleven hundred miles? One way? That would be a quick descent into hell, for her and especially for us.”

  Dani’s brain reeled. If she insisted on a Florida wedding, chances were next to nil her mother would attend without Dani’s grandmother. And if Rita didn’t come, neither would Dani’s father, and then who’d walk her down the aisle? Okay, technically there’d be no aisle, but wasn’t that a trivial detail with a crisis of such epic proportions looming?

  “Um, Mom, I—”

  “Of course, your grandmother will be impossible no matter what arrangements we make. She’s threatened to wear a housecoat and slippers to the church rather than let me buy her a new outfit. She thinks it’s silly to spend the money when she’ll wear the dress and shoes only once before she dies—her exact words.

  “And while she’s as unsteady on her feet as you were taking your first steps, she flatly refuses to use a walker, let alone a wheelchair. So the possibility of her falling and breaking a hip, or worse, hovers over her head, and mine, like a thundercloud. I tell you, I’m at my wit’s end and the wedding’s still eight months away.

  “That’s plenty of time for Grandma to come up with a host of other things to be stubborn about. But honey, we need to get cracking on planning this thing unless you want to get married in our backyard and serve a box of crackers, a bag of chips, and a bottle of soda at the reception.”

  Rita laughed at the absurdity of that, but Dani couldn’t crack a smile. If she moved the wedding to Jefferson City, her mother, by necessity, would be the point person for planning. She didn’t want to shut Rita out, but they had vastly different tastes and opinions about what was fashionable and acceptable for a bride’s big day.

  Dani believed she was entitled to whatever type of nuptials she and Evan wanted, especially when they were paying for it. Plus, travel expenses and scheduling conflicts would prevent many of their friends in Gulf Shore from attending an out-of-state affair. She pointed that out to her mother.

  “But you’ve been there for less than a year,” Rita argued. “What about your friends back home who you’ve known all your life? I doubt they could swing a trip to Florida.”

  “I’ve kept in touch with very few of my childhood and school friends, and some of them are living elsewhere now anyway.”

  “What about the neighbors? Folks from church?”

  Most of those people were far more important to Dani’s mother than they were to her. But Rita wouldn’t want to hear that. Dani had no clue how to resolve this mess without offending someone. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment.

  “Dang, look at the time. I need to get ready for work or I’ll be late.”

  “But we need to talk about wedding plans. We haven’t even—”

  “Sorry, Mom, gotta go. Love you. Talk to you later.”

  Chapter 3

  Cosby hoped Monica would stop by Nauti-Toys for its grand reopening, but he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t. He and Gavin sold dozens of T-shirts adorned with the playful slogan, “I Like To Get Nauti,” and gave away balloons, bumper stickers, soda, hotdogs, cookies, and koozies. A local radio station broadcast live from their parking lot, a handful of attendees won free excursions on the water, and everyone snapped up coupons for fifteen percent off rentals.

  Dani and Evan dropped in to say hello. So did his best friend, Paul “Flipper” O’Riley, GSA’s head dolphin trainer; assistant trainer Tyler Knight and his girlfriend; other aquarium employees; and Bikini Barb’s bartender Pete Clarkson and his son.

  “Dani and I are getting a group together from work to rent Jet Skis one day soon,” Evan told Cosby. “Flipper’s in, right, buddy?”

  “Definitely. It’s been a few years since I’ve taken one for a spin. All I need is a hot babe to ride on the back and I’m all set.”

  “Heaven forbid you be seen with someone average-looking.” Dani shook her head.

  “Now, Dani, you know what I mean.”

  She raised her eyebrow and frowned.

  “Evan, tell your lovely bride-to-be I’m not as shallow as she’s imagining I am.”

  “You dug the hole, pal. Hoist yourself out of it.”

  “Don’t forget, I’m giving the first toast at your wedding reception,” Flipper warned.

  Evan paused. “Dani, honey, go easy on our friend here. God only knows what he’ll say with a champagne glass in his hand.”

  She laughed. “Good point.”

  With an adoring look on his face, he cocooned her in his arms and treated her to a lingering kiss.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” she asked afterward.

  “Just because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  Her face lit up. “You always say the sweetest things.” Then she met his lips again, leaving Cosby oddly unsettled. He couldn’t ever remember feeling that way about a woman, even the one he’d been engaged to back in Ohio.

  Flipper rolled his eyes. “You two are so freaking sweet it’s rotting my teeth.”

  “How’d you like to go for a long walk off a short Shark Pier?” Evan asked.

  “Sorry, the only swimming I plan to do is with dolphins and hot, naked chicks.” Flipper gave Dani his best leer, and she thunked him on the shoulder.

  “Okay, kids, behave yourselves or I’ll take back my balloons and bumper stickers,” Cosby promised with a laugh.

  “Just don’t try to take my T-shirt or I’ll have to go all Lara Croft on you,” Dani joked.

  “I had no idea you were such a Nauti girl,” Cosby countered.

  Evan pulled her possessively against his side. “All right, that’s enough flirting with my woman, you two. Get your own girl.”

  “Maybe one of these days.” An image of Monica popped into Cosby’s brain. “If I ever get time for anything besides work.”

  * * * *

  A couple weeks after the grand reopening Cosby finally found time on a slow Thursday to take his nephews to Gulf Shore Aquarium while their parents enjoyed rare time alone together. The kids had school, but their mother, Melanie, made a deal with their teacher. In return for an excused absence they had to make a full report on their visit to their classmates.

  Cosby phoned Monica about the tickets, half expecting she wouldn’t remember him. Her polite friendliness was a relief. She arranged for him and the boys to meet her outside Shark Pier’s entrance.

  Now, Teddy, age eight, and Adam, ten, all but levitated off the pavement they were so excited. Cosby gave them a stern look.

  “Make sure you do everything Ms. Sims tells you to do, and don’t touch anything unless she says it’s okay. You got that?”

  “Yes, Uncle Cosby,” they answered in a dutiful tone.

  Cosby paced and checked his watch every few minutes after the appointed time came and went. Finally, just as he’d resigned himself to her being a no-show, Monica trotted up looking harried and apologetic. Cosby thought his eyeballs would pop out of his head cartoon-style. She wore a shorty wet suit that molded to her curves and her golden hair in a crown braid. Her face was free of makeup, but Cosby didn’t no
tice and wouldn’t have cared anyway.

  The boys elbowed each other and snickered until he shot them a quelling look.

  “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Monica panted, trying to catch her breath. “I had to help our animal care department do wellness checkups on our sea turtles this morning. I bolted as soon as we finished and didn’t stop to change.”

  Cosby breathed a silent thank you. “How many turtles?”

  “Six. We started at eight this morning, so I figured we’d have plenty of time to finish before I had to meet you guys. But Jolly, Dolly, and Chester didn’t want to cooperate. We had to wrestle them out of the water, onto our scale, and then back into their pool. Holly, Molly, and Polly behaved, bless their hearts, but it still took longer than any of us expected.”

  “How much do they weigh?” Adam asked.

  “They range from ninety-five to one hundred seventy-five pounds.”

  Teddy’s eyes got big. “Whoa. And you lifted them?”

  “With lots of help,” Monica replied. “We used a harness and a crane to actually pull them up onto the ledge of Turtle Lagoon, then we carried them over to our heavy-duty scale.”

  “Where’s Turtle Lagoon? Can we go there?” Adam asked.

  “Sure. It’s not far. We’ll head there after we’re done here.”

  “Money!” the boys shouted in unison.

  “You look exhausted,” Cosby told her.

  “Just what every girl wants to hear.” She flashed a weary smile.

  “I didn’t say you look bad. I mean, you look…well, there are kids present, so I’ll keep it to myself. But if you’re not up to this today, we can do it another time.” Please don’t take me up on it, he thought, hoping telepathy worked.

  “I’m fine, but thanks for offering. I’ve looked forward to this since you called. There’s nothing more energizing than being around kids who are enthusiastic about marine life.” She turned to the boys. “Ready to see some sharks?”

  “Boo-yah!” they chorused.

  “Let’s go, then. Feeding time’s in half an hour. We can catch the dinner prep, then watch them devour it.”

  “This is going to be off the chain!” Teddy bounced like he was riding a pogo stick.

  Cosby placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder to make him stop. “I knew I shouldn’t have fed these yahoos Froot Loops this morning.”

  “We spent the night with Uncle Cosby so our mom and dad could have”—Adam made air quotes—“‘couple’s time.’”

  Monica burst out laughing, and Cosby cringed.

  “Remember that filter we talked about between your brain and your mouth?” he reminded his nephew. “Now would be a good time to install it.”

  Adam grinned, unrepentant.

  “What’s ‘couple’s time’ mean?” Teddy asked.

  “I’ll tell you when you’re eighteen,” Cosby replied.

  “Dude, you’ll be too old by then to remember,” the eight-year-old quipped.

  “Burn!” Adam yelled.

  Monica laughed again and Cosby felt a zing of lust straight to his man parts.

  They entered the building that housed the shark habitat and strolled along the walkway extending out over the pools. Plexiglas enclosed the “pier,” including the floor, affording visitors a close-up view without worrying about falling in. They also could walk through a Plexiglas underwater tunnel.

  “Look! They have sand tigers, bonnetheads, and whitetip reef sharks!” Adam raved.

  “And blacktips and sandbars, too!” Teddy added. He shot his older brother a smug look.

  Cosby pointed. “What’s that one right there?”

  When the kids didn’t answer, Monica replied, “Lemon shark. And there’s a gray reef shark. Oh, and see the one that looks like he needs braces? Not the sand tiger—it would take more than braces to straighten out that raggedy set of choppers—but the other guy by the tunnel. Boys, any idea what species it is?”

  “Shortfin mako?”

  “That’s a really good guess, Adam. But just like great whites, shortfin makos don’t live long in human care. I’ll give you a hint. The correct answer also begins with an ‘s.’”

  “Spinner?”

  “Nope.”

  “Um, silky shark?”

  “Think about the teeth,” Monica prompted. “In fact, ‘tooth’ is part of the name.”

  “I know! I know! Snaggletooth!” Teddy beamed.

  “Excellent,” she praised, and the child puffed out his chest. “You boys really know your sharks.”

  “They’re obsessed,” their uncle commented.

  “No we’re not,” Adam protested. “We just like them more than anything in the entire world.”

  “What’s your favorite animal, Ms. Sims?” Teddy asked.

  “Call me Monica, okay? Ms. Sims makes me feel old.”

  “You’re not old. You’re really pretty.”

  He’s got a crush on her, Cosby realized. I can relate to that.

  “Aw, what a little charmer you are, Teddy.” Her warm smile made Cosby’s heart thud. “And the answer to your question is sea turtles.”

  Adam nodded. “They’re the chron. So are dolphins. But sharks rule!”

  “Chron?” Monica asked.

  “It means cool,” he clarified.

  “Oh, okay. I guess not knowing that makes me the anti-chron.”

  “I’m right there with you,” Cosby agreed. She smiled. Zing!

  “You okay?” Monica asked. “You look dazed.”

  “What? Yeah. I just, uh, remembered something…about work. No big deal.”

  She turned back to the boys. “We’d better head to the shark kitchen.”

  When they walked into the fish prep room, the kids looked around reverently, as though in church. Thawed shrimp, squid, crabs, and capelin, a type of smelt, covered the stainless steel tabletops. A fishy aroma hung heavily in the air. Staff members wearing rubber gloves and aprons inspected the food, divvied up each shark’s portion into a metal canister, and then loaded the containers onto a rolling cart.

  Benton Barnes, the supervisor on duty, greeted Monica’s group and offered to answer their questions. The boys asked how much each shark ate, where the food came from, and if the sharks ever bit anyone at feeding time.

  “We never offer food by hand,” Benton explained. “We use serving tongs and that way we keep track of exactly how much each shark eats. And we make sure each shark gets its vitamins, which we inject into their food.”

  “Do they take Flintstones vitamins?” Teddy asked. “My mom gives those to me and my brother every morning.”

  “Don’t be a derp,” Adam scolded. That prompted his uncle to warn, “Be nice.”

  Benton smiled. “Not exactly, Teddy. But they get vitamins and minerals and other good stuff for the same reason you guys do—to help them stay healthy and grow big and strong.”

  “Monica told us great white sharks don’t do so good in aquariums? How come?”

  “Because they’re fierce predators, they get too big—around twenty feet—and they range over thousands of miles in the open ocean,” Benton answered, “so it’s not wise to confine them to a tank for a long time.”

  “Have any aquariums ever tried to keep great whites?” Adam asked.

  “Yes. Monterey Bay had at least six young ones and returned them all to the ocean after stays ranging from eleven days to six-and-a-half months. They released the one they kept the longest after she started hunting other fish in the tank. And I heard an aquarium in Australia had a great white but set it free because it kept slamming its head into the tank walls.”

  “That’s brutal. Think you’ll ever get great whites here?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s too expensive to capture, transport, and acclimate them, and we don’t have sufficient space.”

  “What’s acclimate mean?” Teddy inquired.

  “It means getting them settled in their new home. Commercial fishermen directed by a spotter plane collected most of Monterey Bay’s
white sharks in nets off Southern California. The sharks lived in an ocean holding pen while their keepers made sure they ate and swam okay, then transferred them to the aquarium’s million-gallon Open Sea exhibit.”

  “A million gallons? That’s so ghetto. You ever been there? To…what’s that aquarium called again?”

  “Monterey Bay. It’s right on the water in Monterey, a city in Central California. I haven’t been there, but the director of our aquarium has, and he says it’s really krunk.”

  Cosby and Monica looked at Benton questioningly.

  “That means extremely fun, wild, exciting,” he translated. “I have teenagers at home.”

  “I guess I’d better brush up on my slang before my nephews go all wanksta on me.”

  “Chillax, Uncle Cosby,” Adam directed.

  Benton answered a few more questions before he led the group out to the exhibit to watch the feeders. The spectacle fascinated the boys, and Cosby knew they’d talk about it for months. Just when he thought they’d seen it at all at Shark Pier, Monica sprung another surprise.

  “Who wants to pet some sharks?” His nephews’ eyes bulged.

  “You can do that?” Adam asked in disbelief.

  “Sure can, but not the sharks you just saw. Not unless you don’t mind losing a hand.”

  “They can have Teddy for dessert.”

  Monica laughed at the expression on the younger child’s face.

  “You wouldn’t want to give those sharks a sugar rush from eating this sweetie pie, would you?”

  When Adam rolled his eyes, she giggled again. Her laughter so stirred Cosby that his man parts nearly embarrassed him in front of everyone. Down, boy. Now’s not the time.

  “So, shark petting, huh?” He forced himself to concentrate on the topic at hand. “We’re game.”

  Chapter 4

  Cosby and his nephews followed Monica to a large Plexiglas tank where three staffers stood watch while youngsters offered pieces of crab to the small sharks jockeying for a handout.

  “What kind are those?” Adam asked.

  “Zebras, pyjamas, starry smooth hounds, epaulettes, and bamboos, all nonaggressive species,” she replied. “You’ll have to wait to pet them until they’re done with dinner. Want to feed them?”