Rogue Wave

by Isabel Jolie

  I picked up my phone to check email and news and discovered a text from Gregg asking about morning plans. I’d gone so long without using the phone much, or even having family in my address book, that I responded with a smile. Ludicrous. Luna came up behind me and pressed a kiss to my shoulder.

  “What are you guys going to do today?” she asked, reading the message over my shoulder.

  “I don’t know. I suppose he’ll want to go to brunch. He’s into that kind of thing. Maybe I can get him to go out surfing. He used to be good. But I’d bet he hasn’t been up on a board since high school.” I circled so my back pressed on the counter and I could pull her against me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. I just need some OJ.”

  “I don’t have any, but I can run get some. The market should be open by now.”

  “That’s okay. I have some at home, and I think I might crash. Sleep a little later and then spend the day working on a paper.”

  “You know, you’re welcome to take your nap here, even work from here. I have plenty of room.” Even when I asked, I knew I sounded like a clingy lover, and maybe I was evolving into one. I didn’t like the idea of her being away from me. Even if we weren’t going to spend the day together, I’d prefer for her to be in my space.

  She stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to my chin, then patted my chest. “You need to spend time with your brother. And I’ve got work to do. But, you know, you’ve got to actually text him back. That’s how the phone works. Once you read the text, you type a response and hit send.”

  I pinched her smart ass, and she grinned as she slipped on her flip-flops. I followed her outside like an obedient seal and leaned down to kiss her when she got behind the wheel.

  She smiled and drove away, waving goodbye with her golden hair flying out behind her, carefree. The farther she drove away, the more she looked like any one of the teenagers who zipped by on golf carts, young, easygoing, and free.

  Chapter 20

  Tate

  * * *

  “Hey, sweetie pie! I miss you. I’m here with your Uncle Adrian, and he says he’s going to come up and visit with you soon.” Gregg grinned at me.

  A few heads turned our way out on the deck of the Sandpiper, mainly because Gregg almost shouted into the phone in an entirely different tone as if he was talking to a dog. When he hung up, he shrugged his apology.

  “Sorry. I’d offer you the phone to speak to her, but she’s three. It’s kind of a one-sided phone conversation. She’s much better on FaceTime, but the signal out here, it doesn’t work.”

  “No worries.” I couldn’t imagine I’d have anything to say to a toddler I’d never met, anyway. “What you said, about me seeing her soon, you want me to visit?”

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m here. Williams told me I shouldn’t be handling this through the courts. He pointed out our parents wouldn’t want this.”

  “I would’ve never hired a lawyer, but your lawyer told me I needed to get one. You get that, right?” I ask, completely exasperated.

  “Yeah. And we’ll still need lawyers, most likely, to wrap this up. But you and I can work out the specifics on the business. Because of the timing of your return, I assumed the worst.”

  “You always do.”

  He sipped his coffee as he looked out over the marina, giving no hint he heard me. When he set his mug down, he slid it back and rested his arms on the table.

  “You think one day you might have kids?”

  “Save the speech.”

  “No. I was going to make a point. Once you have kids, you’re going to understand so much more about what I did and why. The company isn’t just about me, it’s about them. It’s about their future.”

  I crumpled up a napkin and leaned back in my chair. “Actually, I’ve applied to adopt.”

  His jaw dropped open.

  “I doubt the application will be approved. Or I don’t know. Maybe it will be. I have a lawyer working with the adoption agency on it. One day I think it’ll happen, the next I don’t think it will.” The adoption remained the one thing out there that might be me making a difference. It would mean my time away would be for something.

  “I’m so lost right now. Why would you apply to adopt a kid? You’re living out here like a…”

  “Vagabond? Loser? Where are you going with that one?” We’d been having a good conversation, but his judgment always set me off. My muscles tensed.

  “No, it’s…” He scratched his neck with his mouth still partially open, then he pushed his chair back and sat straight, looking me in the eye. “You seem like you are trying to find yourself. When I think of someone adopting a child, I think of someone who is stable and maybe married. I suppose that’s not required, but…you don’t even have a job right now.”

  I wanted to fight him, but he wasn’t wrong. “I didn’t apply the way people here in the States apply for a kid, because for whatever reason I can’t have one of my own. I applied because when I was in Somalia. This girl is in a bad situation. Adopting her is the best way, I think, to help her. But it’s not clear cut.”

  “So, it’s a specific child you’ve applied to adopt?”

  “Yeah.” I leaned forward and copied his position from earlier, arms folded on the table. “She ran up to me in this open-air market. ‘Caawin,’ she kept repeating, which means ‘help.’ I don’t know the language well, and really, her eyes, you could see the panic. I don’t know why she came up to me, the one white man in the market. I think maybe she thought I was a doctor? But I followed. Her sister lay in this area between two stalls. They weren’t buildings. It was just divided areas. Remember some of the more rural markets when we were in Morocco?” Gregg hadn’t been to most of the places I’d been, but he and I had trekked to Morocco one summer when we’d decided to explore outside of Spain. He nodded, his brow furrowed, probably tallying all the bad decisions I’d made, and following a strange girl through a third world market being top of the list.

  I exhaled. “I couldn’t do anything to save her sister. She died while I held her hand and told her in English, a language she didn’t understand, that she would be okay.”

  “What was wrong with her?”

  I gritted my teeth at that phrase. I hated it. “She was bleeding. Gushing blood from between her legs. Her sister was a little older, and I suspect she’d tried to give herself an abortion. But there was nothing I could do. I grabbed some filthy rags lying on the ground, wrapped them in my cleaner shirt and applied pressure, but…” That whole scene was just one more image I couldn’t force out of my memory bank. I pinched my nose and closed my eyes.

  “I tried to get her sister help. She didn’t seem to have parents. She didn’t want to go back to wherever she and her sister had come from. I took her to an orphanage and convinced them to take her in. Then I spoke with someone there, and she talked about the process. I don’t know. It’s not like they can make it easy for someone to walk off the street with a kid, claim it’s an orphan, and try to adopt her. My lawyer is working on it.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Twelve. Practically old enough to start having kids over there. I want to bring her back here, help her learn English, and give her a different life.”

  “Does she not have anyone? Friends? Family?”

  “She doesn’t seem to. Honestly, I think she’s hiding from someone. Another reason to bring her here.”

  “That’s huge. I have to admit, when you said adopt, I was envisioning a baby. You know, she could have a lot of issues? Even though you won’t be dealing with diapers, it could be…do you know what you’re getting into?”

  “If I get into it, yes, I do know. The adoption agency helps you with a lot of that. Telling you what to expect and how to handle adjusting and bonding.”

  “And English?”

  “The agency says kids learn pretty quickly. Far faster than adults. At least, that’s what they say.”

  “Wow. This is…unexpected. And I take
it she’s…” He dipped his head and paused, waiting for me to fill in his words.

  “What?”

  “She’s black?”

  How the hell this guy and I were from the same two parents sometimes blew my mind. “Yes, she has a lot of melatonin. She’s from Somalia.”

  “Hey, I don’t have a problem with it. It’s just one more thing you’re gonna have to, you know, deal with. How’s Luna feel about it?”

  “Luna? What does she have to do with it?”

  “Your girlfriend is, what? Ten years older than the child you’re trying to adopt.”

  “Luna wouldn’t be…it’s not something I need to discuss with Luna. She’s going back to Florida for her second year in her program. And then who knows where she’ll be. She’s not…she’s a kid herself. She’s not about to settle down with an old guy like me. Adopted kid or not.”

  “So, this is just an island fling? Kind of like one of the one-week romances you used to have when you spent summers out here?”

  “Don’t be an ass. I like her. She’s a great girl. But if you’re thinking she’s my Laura, then you’re off base. And I don’t even know why I told you about the adoption. It’s not gonna happen, or at least, if it does, it’s going to take years.”

  “Well, since it’s out there as a possibility, have you thought about getting a job?”

  I huffed out a half-chuckle. “Yes, dip shit. I’m trying to decide what I want to do. As for today, you want to help me paint?”

  “I’ll give you money to hire painters if you need it, but I’m not spending my Saturday at the beach painting. Let’s go get those surfboards and try surfing.”

  By the time we reached Access 42, the waves were rolling smoothly in, and the ocean reflected the sun in almost glass-like formation. Gorgeous, but not at all what you want to see when you’re planning to surf.

  “Hey, should we set the boards in the sand and let you practice getting up?” It’s the classic first step for surf lessons and a total dig at my big brother. He shot me the bird and continued into the water, stopping when it hit his knees.

  “Shit, it’s cold. I thought you said it’s warm in October?”

  “It is. This should be balmy compared to what you’re used to up north.”

  “Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve been to anything other than a pool.”

  “You and Laura don’t take many vacations?”

  “We have kids.” He spewed the words as if that was all the explanation I need.

  We both eventually dove under the soft, rolling waves, then straddled our boards. The sun glistened off the water, scattering billions of stars across the smooth rolls. By myself, I probably wouldn’t have even waded out today. But it wasn’t like Gregg and I had other things to do. Gregg and golf meshed, but I wasn’t a member at the clubs. And we’d both rather hang out in the water than on the beach. The sun beat down on our backs, and the only sounds were an occasional crash of a wave and the squawk of a passing seagull.

  “So, did you have to deal with COVID where you were?”

  “It was a global pandemic.” He gave me that ‘don’t be a fuckwad’ look that he perfected before graduating from high school, and I grinned. “Yeah, it was around, but we didn’t deal with it like you. Fishing boats kept fishing. Without a pandemic, no one gives a shit about fisherman’s lives. What’s anyone gonna care if they get the flu?”

  “It was more than the flu.” His lips flatlined.

  “I know that.” For some of that time, I was staying in a hotel near the orphanage. I had access to the BBC. I knew what was going on. I strummed my fingers through the water. “What I meant is that the fisherman on the boats in much of Asia aren’t particularly valued. No one lined up to offer them masks.”

  “It probably pays well, right? I watched some reality show once about the men in Alaska. I thought of you and the crazy shit you must be doing.”

  “Those men in Alaska do get paid well. It’s dangerous work, but they get paid. But the men in other parts of the world…they’re lucky if they get paid at all, and if they do, it’s shit pay.”

  “Why do they do it?”

  “The promise of money. Or maybe to pay off a debt. But, on a lot of those ships, once they’re on them, they’re on them for life. Or until they lose a limb and can’t work anymore.”

  Gregg leaned his arms back on the board, balancing, soaking in the sun. “I suppose it all comes down to financials, right? The fishing boats barely make any money, so they need cheap labor. And what seems like low pay to you is probably a windfall for a lot of those men coming from whatever slum or tribal land. So, it seems off to you, but really, it’s a win-win. And it keeps the whole world going with affordable fish.”

  “That’s not a win-win, you dipshit. Subpar working conditions, indentured servitude. Put the barbaric treatment of humans aside, later generations that don’t have fish won’t find it to be such a winning situation. When Earth’s ecosystem is crumbling because our generation cared more about present-day bank accounts than the future, it’s not gonna seem like such a winning proposition.” I gritted my teeth and breathed deeply. My nostrils flared in my peripheral vision.

  “I think maybe we should agree to not talk politics. I have friends at home who we had to come to that agreement with, and something tells me that would be better for us.” He slapped the water and peered up at me with a look I knew well. It was the one that said I’ve had enough of this fight. Can we move on?

  “Fine. One thing you need to understand, those men go onto those boats under false pretenses. They live in horrible conditions, sleeping below deck in grunge with rats, working almost all their waking hours, and sometimes they’re in chains. They aren’t free to go. There’s nothing winning about their situation.”

  Gregg dove off his board into the ocean, kicking his board closer to me. I reached out for it and held it as I watched his broad stroke cross the waves. After a few minutes, he changed course and returned to his board, pulling his body over it like a raft. He wiped his eyes then grinned up at me.

  “You know, brother, it occurs me that if we were alive during Civil War times, we’d be one of those families fighting on each side of the war.”

  “Are you saying that because you live up north and I live down south, or are you saying that because you’re actually going to try to make a case for slavery?” My muscles tensed, awaiting an answer that might really piss me off.

  “No. I don’t believe in slavery. I wouldn’t have supported slavery. Ever. But I probably would’ve understood the economic argument the southern states were trying to make. Regardless, I would’ve fought for the preservation of the union. And so, I suppose that means we would’ve been on the same side. Now, granted, after it was over, I would’ve been one of the first guys down there looking for business opportunities, taking advantage of some good deals, and you would’ve been one of the guys working at the camps of homeless freed slaves, maybe teaching them to read and write or something. Trying to give them job skills. That’s who you are, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s something you should be damn proud of, actually.”

  I squinted into the sun, his words ricocheting inside me.

  He smiled broadly, his white teeth shimmering over the water. “I guess what that means is my house on planet Earth will always be nicer than yours, but you’re gonna have a better cloud in the afterlife.”

  “You are such a schmuck.” He laughed as I scowled at him. The fact that he could so blithely overlook others suffering or the plight of those less fortunate drove me nuts. But I’d never change him. And, like him or not, I’d always love him. “Come on, Richie Rich. Let’s go to Mike’s Ice. You can buy your professionally challenged brother a hot dog.”

  Chapter 21

  Luna

  * * *

  “Knock, knock,” I shouted from Poppy’s doorway. As I entered her kitchen, the almost empty coffee pot and crumb-laden plate on the counter told me there was a good chance she was still home.

>   “Hello?” I called.

  Loud thumps cascading down the stairs announced her presence. She landed with a thud on the bottom floor, a kimono wrapped around her. She had a noticeable amount of make-up on, and her hair sported hot roller bounce.

  “Working?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Saturday can be kind of busy. What’re you up to? Why aren’t you out with your new hot boyfriend?”

  My facial muscles stretched with my smile. “Boyfriend? You mind if I have the rest of your coffee?”

  “No, help yourself. You might need to pop it in the microwave, though.” She slid onto a stool and watched as I reheated the nut-brown liquid.

  “I’m not sure men Tate’s age have the girlfriend-boyfriend discussion. Do you think they do?” He and I definitely hadn’t, but I’d chalked it up to it all being new and it being a mature post-college relationship.

  “He’s not ancient. From what I can tell, men in their thirties, even forties and fifties, aren’t much different from men in their twenties.”

  “You interact with your clients?”

  “Yeah, via messages. If you went out on a date with someone else, do you think Tate would be upset?”

  “Who would I go out with?”

  “It’s a hypothetical.” She stretched out her arms. “Would you be upset if he went out on a date with someone else?”

  “Who would he go out on a date with?” We were in the offseason. Unless a person went to the mainland, there were few dating options on the island.

  “Don’t be dense.” Poppy’s brow furrowed. “You know what I mean. Would you be upset?”

  “Yeah. It would hurt. If I walked into Jules and saw him at dinner with someone else, it would hurt. But I’d be okay.” At least, that was what I wanted. For us to be casual enough that if we woke up one day and felt differently, we could easily move on.