Stranded With Her Ex

by Jill Sorenson

  Daniela didn’t say so, but she agreed with Taryn. Flying scavengers weren’t her favorite. “What’s your area of interest?”

  “Dolphins,” she said simply. “I love them.”

  Of course she did, Daniela thought wryly. All young, idealistic surfer girls who wanted to save the world loved dolphins.

  While Elizabeth outlined the basic premise of her research project, which had to do with the harmful effects of chemical pollutants on coastal birds, Daniela peered through the slotted peephole that gave the blind its name.

  At eye level, there were several narrow openings in the wall of the outbuilding, allowing scientists to observe wildlife without being seen.

  On the westernmost edge of the island, a flock of cormorants glided through the air, making a lazy tornado above an object hidden between two rocks near the shore. Their shiny black feathers glinted in the sun, catching the reflection off the water.

  “Something’s dying out there,” Taryn murmured, watching them circle.

  Chapter 6

  At midmorning, Sean lowered his binoculars, watching Jason hike up the hill. Brent followed close behind, carrying his video equipment.

  He felt a twinge of trepidation. Before Daniela came, he hadn’t minded Brent’s constant filming. Now it seemed unbearably invasive. He didn’t want the camera on his face while he made cow eyes at his ex-wife; he knew his longing was transparent.

  After they reached the tower, Brent set up his tripod in a calm, leisurely fashion. To Sean, he seemed more like a casual observer than a director. The footage he collected was rarely prompted, and he asked few questions.

  He just sort of waited for stuff to happen.

  Most members of the media were impatient types, always rushing, so Sean appreciated Brent’s relaxed style. Shark research was all about waiting.

  Sean continued to do a slow sweep of the waters surrounding the island. He’d divided the seascape into sections, checking them off one by one. Perfect Wave, West Side, Skull Rock, North Tip. There was a flock of cormorants in the air near the bird blind, not an uncommon sight. Maybe they had their eye on a sick pup.

  Often, scavengers were the first indication of a shark attack. If they’d been flying over the surface of the water, wings flapping frantically, he’d have looked closer. A lazy circle over land didn’t garner a second glance.

  When he was finished, he dropped his binoculars.

  Jason stood next to Sean, situating himself in the frame of the shot. “Brent said he’d do shark watch again this afternoon.”

  Sean muttered his thanks. Offering to take Dani on a tour had been a mistake, but he couldn’t change his mind now.

  “Anything you want us to talk about?” Jason asked.

  Brent shrugged. “Waves. Sharks. Whatever.”

  Jason put his hand on Sean’s shoulder, nodding in the direction of the Perfect Wave. She was in fine form this morning. “Eight-to-ten, you think?”

  “At least,” Sean said, smiling.

  “You ever paddled out in double overheads?”

  “All the time.”

  “Maverick’s?”

  Sean laughed off the question, shaking his head in regret. He’d surfed some big waves before, but Maverick’s was huge. The infamous spot in Northern California was for daredevils only. “Have you?”

  “Just once. I got grinded.”

  “Lucky you didn’t die.”

  “Yeah. But I love being able to say I tried it.”

  No one had ever tried the Perfect Wave, and Sean knew how much Jason wanted to. His own mouth watered for a taste of it. When he was near the ocean, he liked to surf every day. Going for weeks without his favorite sport was difficult, but he’d become accustomed to denying himself pleasure.

  He was an expert in abstinence.

  Talking about the Perfect Wave had become a morning ritual for them. Maybe it was pointless and immature, like bragging about women.

  “What would you take out there?” Jason asked.

  “Today? A short, for sure.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “There’s a shortboard in the supply closet,” Brent commented.

  Surfboards were very useful in shark research, so they always had a few on hand. Because of the time they spent in the water, surfers were the most likely victims of shark attacks. Sean had experimented with several different shapes, sizes and colors, trying to discover if the sharks had a preference. As far as he could tell, they’d bite anything. Many of the boards had chunks missing, but some were intact.

  The shortboard Brent mentioned was a recent donation, and it promised a nice ride. Both Jason and Sean had both already expressed an interest in testing it.

  Jason gave the Wave a hungry look, moistening his lips. He was young and bold, with a lust for life and an appetite for glory. Sean knew that having Brent film the feat, and include it in his documentary, made the idea even more tempting.

  “The Foundation would never let you come back,” Sean pointed out. Farallon Island was a federal preserve. As government employees, they were expected to follow safety procedures and adhere to strict standards.

  He didn’t bother to mention the obvious, that Jason could get eaten by a shark.

  “I have a hoodie wetsuit,” he mused, glancing at Brent. “You’d have to shoot wide, and promise not to tell anyone it was me.”

  “Done,” Brent said.

  “You’re out of your mind,” Sean said.

  “Would you tell?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean you should do it!”

  His eyes darkened. “Maybe you want to get the jump on me. Is that it?”

  “No, you idiot. I don’t want to explain to your parents that you got killed out there, showing off on a stupid dare.”

  Brent raised his hands, claiming innocence. “I didn’t dare anyone to do anything.”

  “You made the suggestion,” Sean said. “Footage like that would be a great addition to your documentary, and you know it.”

  “Let’s just drop it,” Brent said. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble, and I don’t condone reckless behavior. You two have talked about riding that wave before. I thought you were serious. My mistake.”

  Your mistake, my ass, Sean thought.

  Jason fell silent, not bothering to draw out the argument. Sean had the sinking feeling that Brent and Jason would continue this discussion later, without him. Jason was a hardcore surfer and a damned fool. If he had his heart set on conquering the Perfect Wave, there wasn’t much Sean could do to stop him.

  In the meantime, Brent was determined to get something besides boasting on film. “There’s another topic I’d like to address.”

  Jason’s brows rose. “What?”

  “I have this theory that life-defining moments inform our career choices. I remember the first time I held a video camera, for example. And, the other day, Sean mentioned an incident when he was young, surfing with his father.”

  Sean scowled, irritated with Brent for weaseling that story out of him.

  “Do you have a memorable experience, related to sharks or water?” he asked Jason.

  Jason rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Great,” Brent said, making a few adjustments to the camera. “If you can share it, that would be cool.”

  “My best friend drowned,” Jason said slowly. “Right after high school graduation.”

  Sean was surprised by the admission. Jason was talkative, but not particularly open with personal details. He was a typical guy in that sense.

  “We were eighteen, drunk as hell, surfing at night. I came in. He never did.”

  Jason glanced at him sideways, and Sean wasn’t sure what to say. In his experience, nothing helped, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “I was so wasted I didn’t realize what happened at first. Some of the other guys we were partying with asked where he went. Then his board washed up without him.”

  “Do you think it was your fault?” Brent asked.

  Jaso
n made a harsh sound. “His mom sure did. His body was found on a jetty several days later. At the funeral, she wouldn’t even look at me.”

  Sean couldn’t help but think about Natalie’s funeral. When they buried his daughter, he’d had trouble meeting everyone’s eyes. He couldn’t bear their sadness, when he could hardly stand under the weight of his own.

  “I know she thought it should have been me. He was the good kid, and I was the screwup. It was my fault. I pressured him into partying. It was my stupid idea to go surfing. And then I came in without him, oblivious to the fact that he’d drowned.”

  To his credit, Brent didn’t ask any more questions. He just waited.

  “I almost quit surfing after that. But every time I went out, I felt better. The ocean is very important in Filipino culture. I guess I thought that if I studied it enough, I could understand it. Control it.”

  Brent nodded. “Being behind the camera is also about taking control, to some extent. Do you feel the same way about your work, Sean?”

  Sean frowned, considering his response. There were many times in his life he’d felt powerless, and he didn’t care for it. Out on the ocean, he was in his element. But was he in control? “I know we’re making a difference. Learning about sharks, and why they strike, can only help to prevent future attacks. I guess you could say it’s about taking control. Predicting the unpredictable. Beating the odds.”

  Brent must have been satisfied with his answer, because he didn’t ask him to elaborate. Instead, he did a slow pan of their surroundings. Three hundred and sixty degrees of dark blue ocean and prehistoric predators lurking in the depths.

  Daniela wanted to see what lay dead or dying near the shore, but the scientists only had access to certain parts of the island. Southeast Farallon was a nature preserve, and tromping all over protected land wasn’t encouraged. In some circumstances, protocol allowed them to step in and care for sick animals. Most of the time, they took a hands-off approach, favoring natural selection over human interference.

  Survival of the fittest wasn’t for the faint of heart.

  It was probably best that she didn’t see any undue suffering. Witnessing a shark attack had been gruesome, but the animal had felt little or no pain. A slow, agonizing death would have been much more difficult to watch. She hoped it wasn’t another skinned pup.

  Daniela and Taryn continued on to the sea lion blind without Elizabeth. Once there, she forgot about the scavenging birds, and even Taryn’s strained company seemed unimportant. The slotted peepholes offered a close-up view of several full-grown Stellers. Daniela loved seals and sea lions of all kinds, and she could have happily watched them bark and belch and waddle around all day.

  Before she knew it, it was time to return to the house for lunch.

  She felt a twinge of excitement, along with a flurry of unease, in her belly. Touring the island by boat promised to be a unique experience. Doing it with Sean, who symbolized her deepest heartache and greatest failure, would take the edge off her enjoyment.

  At the end of the path, Taryn paused, looking at Daniela over her shoulder. Her pretty face was tense. She capped a hand over her forehead, using it like a shield. “I don’t like seeing Sean unhappy.”

  Daniela felt her mouth drop open. She closed it quickly, saying nothing.

  “I mean, you obviously have issues, and that’s unfortunate, but—”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Daniela interrupted.

  “I know why you came here. And I’m not fooled by your damsel in distress act.”

  Her stomach tightened, as if she’d been punched. “What are you talking about?”

  “You want to get back with Sean.”

  Daniela let out a harsh laugh, brushing by her. “You couldn’t be more wrong. I had no idea he was even here.”

  Taryn dogged her heels. “It’s clear to me that he’s uncomfortable around you. Your presence is creating unnecessary tension, and we don’t need the drama. Why don’t you reschedule your visit for another time?”

  “Why don’t you? If you don’t like the dynamic, leave.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I’m not the one screwing it up.”

  “You’re not the one in charge, either. If Jason wants to rearrange the schedule, he will. Until then, I suggest that you mind your own business.” Finished with the conversation, she turned her back on Taryn and entered the house.

  Sean and Jason were standing by the cabinets in the living room. They both looked over at the same time. Sean’s eyes moved from Taryn’s face to Daniela’s. When he lingered there, Taryn let out a frustrated breath.

  “Is anyone hungry?” she asked. “I was going to make sandwiches.”

  Jason waved Taryn off, leaning one elbow on the countertop. “We already ate. You girls go ahead.”

  Taryn walked into the kitchen, her spine stiff. Obviously, the sandwich offer didn’t include Daniela. Although she wasn’t very hungry after the unpleasant confrontation, she grabbed a snack from the pantry and sat down at the table.

  “Where’s Elizabeth?” Jason asked.

  “She stayed at the bird blind.”

  He took the chair across from her, arching a brow at her cheese and fruit. “Is that all you’re going to eat?”

  “I had a big breakfast,” she fibbed.

  “Hmm.”

  Last night, over tea, he’d insisted she partake in a few cookies. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to fatten me up.”

  His eyes roved over her appreciatively. “Why would I do that? You’re perfect the way you are.”

  She gave him a quelling look, but it felt good to be admired.

  Sean slammed the cabinet door shut, using a little more force than was necessary. Behind his back, Jason winked at her, sharing the inside joke. Daniela almost choked on the sip of water she’d just taken.

  Not only was Jason making her feel welcome, he was rubbing Sean the wrong way. Perhaps it was petty to find that amusing, but she did.

  When Daniela was finished with her light lunch, they left for the afternoon tour. Taryn accompanied them to the landing to operate the crane. In the past hour, the wind had picked up. It tugged at her hair as they neared the cliffs.

  Sean helped Daniela climb aboard the whaler, his large hand engulfing hers. Even through her gloves, she could feel the warmth of his touch.

  A few moments later, they were out on the water. Cold air whipped at her heated cheeks, enlivening her senses, and she put aside her troubles in favor of soaking up the scenery. Barren land at summer’s end wasn’t much to look at, but the deep blue sea on a sunny day was a beautiful sight to behold. Yesterday, overcast conditions and afternoon fog had cast a murky spell, draining the ocean of color. Today the sky was vivid and clear, stripped clean of all but the whitest, puffiest clouds.

  The Pacific was in fine form as well. Waves crashed against the rocks at the shoreline, sending up an impressive spray. Farther out, away from the island, the sea was calm.

  They spotted a number of California sea lions, a small group of Northern seals and an adorable pair of frolicking sea otters, swimming right next to the boat. If she hadn’t seen one with her own eyes less than twenty-four hours ago, she wouldn’t have believed great white sharks lurked under this same surface.

  Of course, they rarely hunted so close to the shore.

  Sean stayed quiet, sharing her enjoyment in this relaxed ambience. They’d always worked well together, communicating without saying a word.

  But it was easy to get along in fair weather, wasn’t it? Before the accident, their marriage had been smooth sailing, with only minor ripples. Perhaps that was why they’d been so unprepared when the going got rough.

  Passing the bird-watching blind on the west side, they came upon the lazy circle of cormorants, gliding through the air. Waiting. Watching.

  “Can we get closer?” Daniela asked, tentative.

  Jason eyed the telltale formation. “It isn’t dead yet, Daniela.”

 
“I know. And I doubt we can help. I just want to see.”

  He glanced at Sean, who shrugged and looked away. They both thought she was a glutton for punishment, and maybe they were right. But she knew it was important for her to acknowledge these signs of death and to face them.

  Jason maneuvered the whaler into a better viewing position. Between two peaks, on a flat stretch of ground a few feet from the water’s edge, there was a harbor seal cub, freckled with the signature white spots that were unique to the breed. Obviously just-weaned, he was plump from a diet of nutrient-rich milk, his speckled brown coat shiny with health.

  And around his neck, the cause of his distress, was a plastic ring.

  It wasn’t an unusual sight. Many animals died this way every year. This kind of trash found its way into the ocean, didn’t break down once it got there, and remained strong enough to suffocate and kill.

  Ironically, water bottles of all sizes were the most egregious offenders.

  This once-playful pup had probably stuck his head into a piece of plastic out of curiosity, and as he’d grown, the noose had tightened. Now, he was lying on his side, motionless, having outgrown the collar so quickly he could scarcely breathe.

  “Do you have a knife?” she asked, measuring the distance from the boat to the crashing surf at the shore.

  “We can’t reach him from here,” Sean said.

  “He’s so close! I could—”

  “What?” he interrupted. “Swim to him? If you didn’t get your head smashed against the rocks by waves, you still couldn’t haul yourself out of the water at this location. It’s too slippery, too steep and way too dangerous.”

  Knowing he was right, she frowned at the dying cub. Reaching him by land would take time, and some careful climbing, but it was doable. Once she got to him, it would be a simple matter of cutting away the debris.

  This kind of intervention made her job intensely rewarding, and she was eager to assist the helpless pup.

  “Take me back to the landing,” she said, eying the crowded sky with trepidation. The flock of scavengers had grown restless, and they didn’t want to wait to begin their feast. Cormorants were called the vultures of the sea for good reason.