Toni had mixed feelings about their departure. She had grown uniquely close to each one of the three. Her heart was heavy and yet, she was thrilled to get through the summer job successfully with the additional benefit of seeing salvation come to the royal family which would eventually influence their small nation.
My agenda fulfilled.
Mishael had explained that after his 18th birthday, his right to the throne could only be legally challenged if he failed to marry or if he was found guilty of a severe crime. At this point, his half sister Misha was the only other possible candidate but of course, his father Todd Nelson had already chosen Mishael. His birthday was at the end of the month and thus, the window of opportunity for Misha as Todd’s choice was rapidly diminishing.
Two weeks prior to the Forecastle contest, Toni called the Nelsons to let them know that Mishael would be competing. Celina Nelson had been cool with Toni but Todd called back later in the day to congratulate her for not only teaching Mishael to surf but for earning her bonus too. In early July, an excited Mishael had phone his father on the day he got up on his surfboard. Todd told Toni that he was planning to fly down for the Friday surf heat.
As Toni contemplated the D’Almata intrigue involving Rose Cervantes, she was sure that Todd Nelson hadn’t a clue to his mother-in-law’s aspirations to enthrone Misha as the next monarch of D’Almata. And who could tell him? The contract that Toni read, prayed about and signed back in June insinuated an element of danger. The menace was not from surfing or protecting a future head of state from assassins but from the Nelson’s own family. Toni reasoned that Rose may have had someone plant the warning note on her gate way back then. The note had read – “Watching you” and apparently that is what she had been doing.
Initially, Rose had planned to have Misha supposedly kidnapped or at least, according to the ominous conversation between her attackers while Toni cowered beneath the Azalea bush. Toni had prayed about the implication of what she overheard. There was no audible answer from heaven but her common sense and her gut feeling deduced that Rose’s scheme was to put the blame of the abduction at Mishael’s feet. When Toni pulled her .32 from her purse in the motel in Santa Fe, Rose’s plan fell apart. Somehow Hugh was involved too but she had limited clarity concerning him. Toni assumed that his part in Rose’s conniving was inadvertent… At least, Toni hoped so.
On Thursday night before the Friday morning competition, Toni called her pastor in Santa Fe. Pastor Guy Miles proved to be a dedicated and serious man of God. Watching for the souls of his flock, reaching the lost and endeavoring to continually find the Mind-of-God in an increasingly lukewarm environment gave Toni great confidence in his leadership. Although, she hadn’t made up her mind about teaching on D'Almata, she wanted to update him and give him the victory report concerning Mishael and Hugh D'Almata.
Guys Miles listened and then she listened astonished at his own victory report.
“You daughter Merry took your ministry slot out at the county jail – I’m sure you know this already,” he said. “Some of the ground work you laid with Jack… Jack Crespin is beginning to bear fruit. I’m telling you Merry is tearing it up out there.” Pastor Miles went on to tell Toni about three women who had prayed during their time of imprisonment and afterward were water baptized. As they hung up, Toni realized that Merry was having her own personal summer revival in Santa Fe.
Chapter 23
Mishael, Rifta and Toni did dawn patrol. Merry sent a text sometime after midnight, early Friday morning stating that the swell conditions looked promising for the Forecastle area. Because the beach break at Forecastle was 20 minutes north, they preferred examining the water in their own back yard. There was no windswell, offshore or on. The wave was small at less than 3 feet but it was a wave!
Rifta went inside to make a fresh pot of coffee and get breakfast going. Toni and Mishael did their morning exercise routine in the semi-dark. The sun wouldn’t be up until 6:30. When they came in, Rifta had prepared scrambled eggs and steak with small red potatoes.
Hugh hadn’t come down yet but the three of them moved to the back deck with their plates to watch the conclusion of the sunrise.
Toni began repeating what she had already been drilling into Mishael for the last few days. She droned, “Remember, for a maneuver to be scored, it must be completed. Concentrate on what Billie and Rick showed you about staying in the forceful part of the wave.”
Mishael continued to shovel his breakfast in but nodded as she spoke. He wasn’t nervous but Toni was… She couldn’t eat a thing.
Toni continued. “Don’t be the first in the lineup. The judges many times will use the first surfer as a benchmark for the rest of the competitors. And pray!” Toni wasn’t too sure how interested the Lord was in sports but she knew God used a variety of methods to glorify His Son. Besides, He answered the prayers of the saints. Mishael was now a saint!
Toni and Mishael left Rifta with Hugh. Rifta was going to get some sleep and then they would be over to watch the ‘Guys 15 to 17 years, Shortboard Intermediate’ heat scheduled for one o’clock. Toni wanted Mishael at the contest early. They could learn a lot from watching the other heats but especially how the swell was affecting the contestants. What strategies were they using and what maneuvers were getting the highest scores?
The Forecastle Annual Surf Contest drew a sizeable crowd. A Wilmington television crew were looking for newsworthy happenings and because this event was between the renowned surfing events at Sweetwater and later, Cape Hatteras, people attended.
Alex Salerno, although considered an amateur, had been surfing since kindergarten. He was talented. Balance, endurance and experience made his shortboard surfing look like a dance on the wave. Unfortunately, the minimal swell was not to his advantage. Even so, when a set came in and Alex was in line to take it, he did. The spectators watched him as he positioned himself in the most critical part of the wave. He made quick, precise maneuvers scoring the highest in his division.
From New Mexico, Merry guessed an increasing swell with an offshore crosswind as the tide came in. By noon the swell proved her forecast accurate. Mishael needed to get out into the water.
Toni realized that the contest wasn’t following the national amateur rules with precision and she assumed that the leniency was due to it being a local limited event; Forecastle not wanting the chaos that came with a larger crowd-drawing contest. Still, there were bleachers set up for public viewing. When she and Mishael stopped a passing hotdog vendor to grab a small lunch, Toni’s phone buzzed. It was the Nelsons calling. Todd said he would meet them at the public seating.
Mishael’s appearance shocked Todd Nelson, Toni noticed. As they approached Mishael’s father, she glanced at Mishael recognizing that the young man was not only tanned and contoured from a summer of Toni’s surfing bootcamp but his dark brown hair was bleached blond from the sun. There was a confidence in his walk and stance, although it wasn’t the typical surfer’s swagger – like Alex Salerno owned.
Mishael didn’t notice Todd’s shrewd look but the son understood his father’s vigorous and approving handshake.
“Well done. Well done,” Todd said as they shook hands.
Mishael smiling, answered. “Thank you father, but let’s see how I do once I am in the water and under the appraising eye of the judges.” The three of them looked over toward the judges’ stand. The group was taking a break because the next heat wasn’t until one o’clock, Mishael’s event.
Todd nodded at Toni and then shook her hand too. “Thank you,” he said. She wondered again if he knew about Rose’s shenanigans as he seemed somewhat hesitant with her.
Toni said, “Why thank you – my pleasure!” She turned and pointed to their belongings which were beyond their sight and lost in the mêlée of people. She said, “Mishael has got to get out in the water and warm up. We’re sitting over there under that huge blue and yellow umbrella. Do you want to join us?”
“Thank you, no. Celina has us set up with umb
rellas, sunscreen, video cameras and amble food to feed the whole crowd. We are just to the other side of the judges there,” he told them with a wave of his hand in the general direction of their stuff. “Come join us after Mishael comes in from his race or what is it… a heat?”
“Yes, a heat. I’m glad you are here to watch!” replied Mishael, his white smile revealing his delight.
“What? I wouldn’t miss it,” his father replied and with that they parted ways.
There was a real obstacle course between the bleachers and their umbrella. People sunbathing, picnicking and a thousand spectators covering the sand.
Toni knew something was wrong before they reached their belongings. The umbrella continued to stand but their towels, cooler and chairs looked as if a football team had run across their set up. Swiveling about, she examined their beach neighbors but they were preoccupied with their own friends or family or food.
Mishael shouted, “Where’s my board? Some scoundrel has messed with our things… Ludicrous! My surfboard is gone!” He leapt past Toni to run a circle around their belongings. She put her hands on her hips as she cast about mentally for a plan.
Toni swung her bag around from her shoulder and plucked her phone from its pocket. She said, “Mishael, I’m going to call Rifta and Hugh before they leave the house. They can bring my old board. You’ll use it. Call Billie Cliff and ask him to meet us in the parking lot.” Toni understood Mishael’s beginner’s board wouldn’t do and it was too late to try a new board. Mishael had ridden the Plastic Fantastic dozens of times because he liked it, but also Billie liked it and Billie was old school.
Rifta didn’t answer! Okay, Mr. Smart Guy, answer your phone! Toni sighed audibly and then yelled at Mishael, “Hey! Wait for me! Don’t leave my sight!” Mishael, having called Billie, was preparing to sprint to the parking lot.
Hugh answered his cell. “What?” he growled.
Toni was irritated by his greeting but she said with forced politeness, “Excuse me Hugh… Apparently, I am interrupting your lunch or something but would you please get over to the contest as soon as possible? Bring the orange board…” Toni stopped. The cell phone background was noisy. Hugh and Rifta were watching television! No wonder Rifta couldn’t hear his phone ring. She raised her voice saying, “Hugh, please get the orange board out of the garage and meet us in the parking lot… Mishael’s surfboard has been stolen.”
Hugh simply said, “Right.” He hung up. Toni let out another exasperated sigh.
“Put those things back in the cooler. I’ll get the towels and chairs,” Toni told Mishael. He obeyed reluctantly. Toni put her bag back on her shoulder. “What did Billie say?” she asked.
Mishael closed the cooler and looked around at their things. Order had been restored although a sprinkling of sand covered everything. “He said he would meet us by the Escalade.”
Billie shook his head. He told them that periodically phones, beer… cameras get stolen, but boards?
“Very rare... But did you notice the water? To be honest, the swell has picked up. For the Plastic Fantastic you’ll want a bigger, faster wave… It’s good.” Billie said to encourage him. Mishael was quiet but nodded.
“Look, now that you’re using a longer board you can get out farther. This is to your advantage… I’ve seen you on that board. You’ll do fine,” reassured Billie.
Billie got his own board from his car rack and was giving Mishael pointers when the beige Mercedes drove into the parking lot. The Plastic Fantastic wrapped in a bed comforter was strapped to the top of the car roof. Bungee cords held it in place. Billie waved to them and they drove over.
The heat was due to start in 15 minutes. Billie was on one side of the Mercedes and Toni on the other loosening the bungee cords. Next, Mishael and Billie jogged off toward the water. Rifta still in the driver’s seat popped the trunk and Toni tossed the blanket and cords inside.
Slamming the trunk, she came around to the driver’s window. It glided down and there was Rifta with the collar of his T-shirt stretched and ripped. There was blood on his nostrils and shirt. His pink face was damp with sweat. Toni’s eyes widened and then she looked past him to Hugh. Hugh continued to look the gentleman farmer in his collared shirt and khaki shorts but his left eye was puffy – almost swollen shut.
“What happened?” Toni asked realizing that the television she heard through Hugh’s cell phone was not reality TV.
Rifta smiled turning to Hugh, “We got them, yes?” The skin of his left ear and neck were raspberry red.
Hugh interrupted him, “Toni, we need to park. I don’t want to miss Mishael’s event. We’ll explain later. Where should we park?”
The lot was full and the roadside parking stretched for blocks in either direction. Toni said, “Park here. I’ll pull out. When you come down the beach trail, the bleachers are to the left. Do you have binoculars?”
She backed out and they took her parking place. Parking at the church lot, she walked and jogged, returning to the contest.
It was well after 1pm when Toni got in position to see the heat. Mishael was farther out than the other guys but on her “old school” board he would need to be. Billie mentioned the swell had grown. It was shoulder high. Toni had to admit it was a superb day for a surf contest.
Using her binoculars, Toni saw the set coming in before the contestants did. There were only 11 junior men in Mishael’s division. She wasn’t sure if anyone had taken off yet but she had told Mishael to try not to be the first. When he began paddling for the first wave of the incoming set, Toni guessed she must have missed much of the heat already. Mishael dropped in early and stood up. Toni imagined him sizing up the wave. He dropped down and made a hard bottom turn coming back up to bank off the lip allowing him to drop back in. Coming down the face, he made his bottom turn, extending out for a longer line down the wave. Unquestionably in control of his board, Mishael pulled up to the top, only to cut back into the wave turning off at the lip. He came down with the white water to make his bottom turn; kicking out as the wave closed.
He’s a natural!
Toni began jumping up and down. Obvious to her, Mishael was figuring out the board and the wave for his next effort.
Hugh and Rifta had climbed to the top of the bleachers. They didn’t know what they were supposed to be looking for in the surf contest but they knew to watch for Mishael and the bright orange board.
Hugh clapped enthusiastically while looking around with his one healthy eye for others who would have undoubtedly noticed a star surfer when they saw one, in Mishael. He was saying, “Bravo. Bravo.” Hugh’s response was better suited for a Polo chukka rather than a surfers’ competition.
As for Rifta, he was loud and his appearance alarming, although he had tried to clean himself up.
Mishael caught two more waves and he was one of three competitors bumped up for the finals in his division for Saturday. Toni was sure he was the only contestant in the competition with a vintage board.
Toni found Rifta and Hugh. They were still sitting on the top tier of the bleachers waiting for the orange board to catch another wave. She climbed up to them and explained that Mishael was finished for the day but tomorrow he would have a chance to win his division.
“Of course,” said Hugh. “Mishael is a superior athlete; most D’Almatans are. Now… I’m hungry.”
Hugh’s eye was turning dark. He would have a black eye by nightfall. Both men were pink-faced from sitting in full sun for an hour.
“I’ll stay with Mishael. His father, Mr. Nelson is here,” Toni said. She pointed in the direction the judges’ stand. “He will want to spend some time with Mishael. I’ll walk you back to the car while you tell me what happened.” Rifta and Hugh looked at each other and then, Rifta nodded. “Come on, then. You’re both getting sunburned,” she stated.
By the time they got to the Mercedes, Toni found out that two men – probably the same who had accosted her in the wee hours of the morning after the 4th of July were caught red-h
anded in the garage at the beach house. Hugh told her that he and Rifta were getting ready to come over to Forecastle for the contest when Rifta saw that the garage door, the side door was standing open.
“Yes, you left it opened, but no!” Rifta looking at Toni confirmed Hugh’s story.
Hugh said, “I was putting some water and soda into the cooler to bring here when Rifta goes out to shut the door. I’m sorry my dear as we thought you had been negligent not only forgetting the alarm but also leaving the door ajar in your excitement and haste this morning.” Hugh looked at her and whatever look of misunderstanding that he was trying to convey was lost by his comical, yet gruesome swollen left eye.
“He take long time, no?” Rifta said nodding toward Hugh.
“Yes, it did take me awhile to realize that something must be wrong when Rifta didn’t return to the kitchen,” Hugh told her. “I went to see and there were these two hoodlums getting thrashed by Rifta. You’re a worthy man, Rifta.” Rifta shrugged and agreed with a humble nod of his head.
Hugh said, “He was doing such a thorough job I was wondering how I should intervene to assist him. That is when you called, my dear.”
Toni put her hand to her mouth, “Oh no!”
And I had thought it was the TV! “Pardon! My apologies! I’m sorry,” she stammered.
Hugh touched his eye tenderly. “It is nothing. In a few weeks it will hardly be noticeable.”
At the car, Hugh told her, “We’ll tell you the rest of the story later. It is quite the tale and it’s true.” He said this with a wink from his healthy eye.
“I’ll call you after I speak with Mishael… He did great, didn’t he?” She left them smiling. Now where has Mishael gone off to?
Toni walked toward the judges’ stand and then beyond as Todd Nelson had indicated. She was sure Mishael would be with them.
Cynic, Surfer, Saint (Scenic Route to Paradise #1) Page 18
