“Hey, keep talking like that and you’ll do fine,” Dawn said, grinning. “That’s what you’re selling after all, adventure, beauty, something out of the ordinary.”
“And, as you’ll hear me say—again and again—each dive is unlike any other. Every trip under the surface of any body of water is unique.”
“Every drive around the peninsula is unique, too. With the fog and snow and fall colors and clouds of apple and cherry blossoms and summer flowers, it’s never the same twice.” Although this day trip was about business, Dawn was glad the legwork was done.
Riding along next to him, Jerrod himself occupied her thoughts, just as he had earlier that morning when she was nervous with anticipation. Sometimes she had to stop herself from jumping too far ahead, but she’d asked for a challenging project and she got it. Dawn wished they were traveling in comfortable silence, feeling no need to talk. That wasn’t quite true. The warmth of their previous time together hung between them, almost as a barrier to business as usual.
It had been his idea to bring their families together after her trip to the hospital. She wasn’t expecting that evening and what had felt like intimacy between them. Saying goodbye to Carrie that evening had left Dawn needing to come down from surprisingly intense emotions. She’d said good night to Gordon and hurried to her bedroom trying to calm a wave of unexpected attraction—and longing.
Even Gordon felt a shift, as if something important happened. For the last couple of weeks he’d peppered her with questions about Jerrod and diving. She was sure other questions lurked beneath the surface. Like her, Gordon was drawn to Jerrod.
A street sign barely visible in the mist jolted her back to the present. Just in time. “Take the next right and then after the stoplight, you can take another right into the parking lot. I was daydreaming and almost missed seeing the turnoff to Rock Hill.”
A few minutes later, she led the way into the two-story glass and stone Peninsula News headquarters.
“What a building,” Jerrod said, scanning the open space and atrium.
“It’s a real showpiece in Rock Hill,” Dawn said. “They replaced an old wooden 1950s building that looked like it had been glued together in a day or two. This building sends a signal that tourism is a serious industry, not an afterthought behind fishing and farming.”
Jerrod frowned. “I imagine there’s an argument whether that’s good news or bad news.”
“Right you are,” she agreed. “So far, coexistence has prevailed, mainly because the orchards and farms bring a lot of visitors. We can’t have farm stores without produce, namely the local specialties, cherries and apples. You can buy tarts and tortes and pies, jam and jelly and chocolate-covered everything. And in the fall, the apple products share space with pumpkin desserts and such.”
Seeing she’d finally amused him, she added, “Nowadays, these farm stores have added big selections of wine, too, from the many wineries that have sprung up around here. Good wine, too.” She grinned. “And that, Mr. Walters, is the end of the local commercial.”
The receptionist recognized her and directed them to the cushioned benches on the second level. On a clear day they could look downhill to the waterfront, where a series of walkways and docks led to shops and restaurants. Rock Hill was upscale and touristy, but as beautiful as it was, Dawn liked the atmosphere of Two Moon Bay so much better. Her town sent out a warmer invitation to stay awhile. Even Jerrod had mentioned how quickly he’d learned to navigate around the pedestrian-friendly town. The Bean Grinder staff had quickly adopted him and his crew as regulars and called them by name. She liked that he was beginning to feel at home there.
When they sat side by side on a bench outside Wilson’s office, Dawn decided she had to speak up, knowing she wouldn’t be doing her job as a PR consultant if she kept quiet. She put her hand on his arm to make sure she had his full attention. “How would you feel if Bali comes up? I understand you wouldn’t welcome nosy journalists probing, but we’re deliberately doing things that will put you in the public eye.”
Jerrod lowered his head. “I need to settle in here with Carrie first, before I’d be ready to talk about that. I’ve got to feel at home, to the extent any place can feel like home to me now, and maybe then, down the road, if someone asks, I’ll answer.” He paused. “I used to be paralyzed, almost mute. Couldn’t talk about any of it. But things are different. I don’t want people to pity me. That would be too much.”
Dawn bit the corner of her bottom lip, a sure sign she was frustrated.
Some part of her wanted to assure Jerrod that in no way did he elicit anyone’s pity. Sympathy, yes. What had happened to him was a true tragedy. She’d wondered about his serious demeanor, the reasons he smiled so little.
“I don’t get why it would even come up. Really.”
“The internet, Jerrod. Easy access to information that just pops up.” Dawn lifted her arms in a show of exasperation. What fantasy world was he living in? “You can be looking for one thing and then all of a sudden the search brings up something you weren’t expecting.”
“Oh, sure, like these writers are going to go snooping around about me.” He cast a pointed look her way. “These are tourist guides, Dawn.”
Nice put-down. “These are interviews, and you don’t get chances like this just by snapping your fingers, you know,” she said, snapping her own fingers in the space between them. “And, of course, these writers are looking you up. You’re being naive to think otherwise.”
“Naive?” he said in a loud voice.
“That’s what I said.” She pointed to herself. “How do you think I learned about what happened to Augusta and Dabny? The internet, of course.”
Stunned by her own admission, Dawn glanced around her, relieved no one was around to hear them.
Jerrod stared at her, his eyes icy. The vein in his temple pulsated. Finally, he spoke. “I suppose you saw this information before I sat in your living room and brought it up.”
Dawn closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “Yes, but I didn’t go looking...” Behind Jerrod, the office door opened and Wilson’s face appeared. “Oh, good morning, Wilson.”
“Nice to see you, Dawn. How have you been?” Wilson asked.
“Good. Let me do the introductions,” she said, willing her voice to a normal tone as she approached Wilson standing in the doorway.
They followed Wilson into his office, but she moved aside to give Jerrod room at the small table in the corner in the paper-cluttered office. “I’ll sit over here,” she said, pointing to an empty desk chair several feet from the table. She stole a glance at him and saw his face looked no more serious than usual.
“I see you and your clients’ names in papers and local guides everywhere,” Wilson said, apparently not puzzled by the distance she’d created. “And on the radio. Lots of action.”
Dawn smiled. “Can’t hurt to have my newest client hear about the success of some other ones.”
“I’ve heard a lot about a fitness center and party planning business,” Jerrod said flatly. He quickly added, “And it’s all been good.”
As if she weren’t in the room, Wilson pointed to Dawn. “We call her the publicity maven. You chose well, Jerrod. Dawn’s clients become regulars of ours around here. They’re always doing something newsworthy.”
“Ah, flattery. I love it. And by the way, maven is much better than diva. But he’s already hired me, Wilson.” To keep her hands still, Dawn reached into her bag and pulled out her planner. “You two go ahead.” Looking at Jerrod, she added, “I can step out if you’d like.”
“No, that’s not necessary.” His voice remained flat.
Wilson looked quizzically from Jerrod to Dawn, no doubt wondering if her client was always so stiff, Dawn thought. She smiled at Wilson and took her seat. She kept her hands busy writing a grocery list in her planner. Ridiculous. She never made grocery lists.
/> “Okay, then, let’s get started.” Wilson pulled a reporter’s spiral-top notebook out from under a stack of what looked to Dawn like regional dailies. Dawn didn’t see many of those old-fashioned journalists’ tools anymore among the staff writers and freelancers she encountered. Wilson was not only an older man by anyone’s definition, he was also old school.
As Wilson flipped the notebook open and grabbed a pencil out of a coffee mug filled with them, Dawn went back to pretending she was working. Jumping ahead, she was relieved knowing Jerrod wouldn’t need any coaching to prepare for their next stops.
“I’ve read the background material, so I see you have extensive experience,” Wilson said. “I’ve pigeonholed you, more or less. You’re in the adventure business.”
“Fair enough,” Jerrod said.
“Your photographs are fine,” Wilson said, lifting a printout of eight-by-ten photos, “but I’d like to see the boats for myself. Before you leave, we can set up a time for me to come down to the docks in Two Moon.”
“You’re welcome to come on one of our trial runs,” Jerrod said. “I’ve made a couple of dives, but we’re doing a few more before we bring the divers or the tour boat passengers.”
Wilson shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on that invitation. I’m not exactly water phobic, but I don’t spend much time on the lake—or under it.”
You and me both, Wilson. She almost blurted those words, but wisely held back. Snorkeling in really warm water aside, Dawn was almost grateful for the immobilizer on her wrist and the bump on her head. It gave her an excuse to avoid the diving issue at least for the time being. She’d not reacted one way or another when Jerrod had mentioned diving with him in the future.
“I get it,” Jerrod said, “Lots of people feel that way, and needless to say, they aren’t my customers.”
From there, everything went exactly as Dawn had imagined and she listened in and watched as Jerrod loosened up. This phase of her plan was off to a good start.
It didn’t hurt that Wilson was a solid sports and outdoor life journalist. He wouldn’t take this article lightly. He probed deeply, too, letting Jerrod explain the lure of shipwrecks and how they were a window to the past.
“But what about diving itself?” Wilson asked. “It’s so cold up this way, and the water never gets all that warm, not even in August. Is a dive really worth it?”
“Each dive is different, unique.” Jerrod rested his forearms on the tabletop. “Each time you venture beneath the surface of a body of water, whether it’s the Caribbean or Lake Michigan, you can expect to see—and feel—something new.”
“And you believe it’s safe?”
Dawn saw Jerrod’s quick change of focus as he looked toward the window, which showed nothing but the gray fog. Still, Dawn saw the faraway look in his eyes. For the moment, the only sound in the room was the faint scratch of Wilson’s pencil jotting notes.
“It’s safe if people are trained and up for a challenge,” Jerrod said, shifting in the chair. “My crew has as much expertise as any diving operation you’d find anywhere in any country. They’ve been with me for several years and have taken others on coral reef and shipwreck dives in locations all over the world. So, does that make it risk free? No. But no adventure is.”
“I know you understand that better than most people,” Wilson said, his voice low. “I saw a couple of online pieces about the terrorist attack in Bali. Such a terrible tragedy for you and your family.”
Jerrod shot Dawn a look. But she lowered her gaze.
“Since I’m not known in the area and am starting fresh,” Jerrod said slowly, “I’d rather not have that story follow me around.”
Wilson knit his brows. “Look, I wasn’t planning to mention it, because it isn’t related to your local business. But others might ask you about it, even your passengers...” He shrugged and left it at that, but stood as a signal that the interview was done.
They were awkwardly silent on the way back to the car and the drive to the next two stops. Each time, they went through the similar round of introductions and quick questions for short blurbs in tourist monthlies. If the situation weren’t so sad, Dawn would have had a good laugh over the front they put up. They were like a feuding married couple, riding along in grim silence in the car and putting on their professional game face at each venue.
On the way to the last stop, Dawn said, “Jerrod, let’s clear the air.”
“I need to do one more interview,” he said, following her directions to the office of the regional publisher in Sturgeon Bay. At least he wasn’t so cold. Still, her impatience with him grew. She might have made a mistake, but she hadn’t shared his secrets with anyone. Besides, they weren’t secrets in the first place. Hadn’t she said as much?
Jerrod was deep into the fourth interview when he seemed fully himself again. Serious, yes, but friendly to the editor, Josie. He acted like he’d decided to make himself at home, Dawn thought. He responded to questions about what Dawn had learned were his favorite topics, the history of the two shipwrecks, the Franklin Stone and the Alice Swann.
“The history is part of the lure for me. These wrecks are unpretentious, like the area itself. These two ships were solid and hardworking, like their owners and crews. Coral reefs, with their exotic colors and sea creatures, are like the shiny objects that get all the attention. It’s time for this area to make the most of its waters and its history.”
“I believe I read that your late wife was from Milwaukee,” Josie said.
“Uh, yes, that’s true. I don’t talk about that a lot.”
“It’s part of your bio,” Josie said, her voice matter-of-fact.
“Maybe so, but, it’s not something I do interviews about, not specifically, anyway.”
Josie pushed a printed sheet toward Jerrod. “Is there anything in this article from the Miami Herald that’s inaccurate?”
Jerrod’s head jerked back in surprise, but he immediately recovered and scanned the page. “Since you’re pressing me for an answer, yes, it’s accurate.”
Josie’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay, I think we have what we need. The piece will run in our Weekender insert.”
Dawn stood, and Jerrod followed her lead. He offered his hand to Josie.
“Thanks,” Dawn said, shaking Josie’s hand. “See you soon.”
“I hope so. We need interesting stories...” she nodded to Jerrod “...like this one.”
Walking out of the building, she noticed Jerrod’s stride was looser and the tension in his face had eased.
“Well, that’s over and done with,” he said, approaching the car. “Overall it wasn’t so bad.”
“Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” She stood at the passenger-side door. “So, are we going to talk about this?”
“What’s to talk about?” he asked, flicking his hand. “You already knew what happened to Augusta and Dabny. You let me go on about it...”
“I didn’t see the point of stopping you.” They were looking at each other over the top of the car, a barrier literally between them. “I’m sorry, Jerrod. Really.”
“It’s just that it’s so hard for me to talk about it,” he said, his voice rising. “I was opening myself up about these painful things.”
Dawn walked around the back of the car to stand with him. When she pressed her hand lightly on his upper arm, his eyes flashed in surprise. “That’s exactly why I didn’t stop you, why I didn’t break in. You seemed to need to tell me this awful story in your own words. So I decided not to interrupt and blurt out that I already knew about it from the internet. Are you kidding me?”
“Okay, okay, but maybe I wouldn’t have gone into it so much, I guess.”
“I wanted you to.” Dawn knew the air would never be clear between them if she left it at that. “I was afraid you’d think I was just snooping around. But I wasn’t. The same Miami Herald
piece Josie just showed you was what the search engine brought up.”
Jerrod shook his head. “I was naive. You were right about that. After the attack, when we went back to Florida and Wyatt and Rob helped me save the business, everyone knew what happened. But I thought up here where no one knows me it would be a different story.”
“It was two years ago, too, Jerrod. So, you’re right, it is different here, but to be frank, your story is dramatic.” She again touched his arm. “It was the kind of tragedy almost everyone fears nowadays. That sounds cold, but it’s true. That’s why I didn’t want you to think you could hide it. I didn’t want you caught flat-footed.”
Jerrod covered her hand with his, increasing the pressure against his arm. “I get it. I’m sorry I went all cold on you.”
She nodded. “That’s okay. And if I had to do things over, I’d have told you what I found. But to be honest, I’d still have wanted you to confide in me, you know, let me hear it in your words.”
Jerrod let go of her hand and lightly pulled her to him in a quick embrace. Her muscles relaxed as her cheek brushed against the smooth fabric of his jacket. She was surprised, but not in a negative way. For a few seconds she held her breath.
“Wasn’t I promised lunch in some special place up this way?” Jerrod asked, lowering his arm.
Reluctantly, she exhaled as she backed away and returned to the passenger side and opened the door. “I seem to recall making that promise. So, let’s go.”
* * *
AS THEY FINISHED their Swedish pancake platters at Al Johnson’s restaurant, the sun had defied the forecast and burned off the fog. They’d had a late lunch at this particular place because it was one of her favorite restaurants outside of Two Moon Bay. With the tension gone between them, Jerrod felt lighter than he had in a long time. All four appointments were behind him and he could relax. He’d been wrong about what would happen if Dawn knew Augusta’s and Dabny’s deaths were his fault. He’d feared she’d shrink from him as if avoiding something toxic. But she hadn’t. Maybe that was the real reason he’d needed to be closer to her. It was his way of thanking her without actually saying the words.
Something to Treasure Page 8
