Turtle Soup

by Danielle Thorne

  The phone buzzed outside the room and he hurried to pick up the receiver from her desk. A grizzled throat cleared and a man asked, "Is Jack Brandon there?"

  "Speaking."

  "Mr. Brandon, this is Roy Dobbs."

  Jack's mind raced to make a connection.

  "We met outside Turtle Soup."

  "Mr. Dobb's," Jacks said quickly, "Of course."

  "I was on my way out and thought I'd try stopping by again."

  "I recommend it."

  "Would you like to meet me there? I'm a big fan of your work. And my granddaughter is, too. We go to the aquarium frequently."

  Jack gave a flattered chuckle. "That's what it's all about."

  "I enjoy those I-Max films myself."

  Jack glanced at the wall clock. He had fifteen minutes before the meeting started. "Is there any way we can meet in a couple hours?"

  "Actually, no. I'm afraid I have a piece to do for the ten o'clock news."

  Jack tried to think.

  "It's okay," Dobbs said as if embarrassed. "I know you have a busy schedule. I was trying to fit it in before I took off."

  Still calculating, Jack asked, "Where you heading?"

  "Canada."

  "A little cool there."

  "It's not the Caribbean. I didn't mean to take up your afternoon, we can get together another time."

  "No, it's fine," Jack said. It would be Sara's only chance to hit the papers. "I can make it to Turtle Soup in a half hour. I'll introduce you to the owner."

  They said goodbye and Jack hit the off button so Dobbs wouldn't hear him groan. The clock ticked down like a time bomb. Eleven minutes. He needed to head upstairs right away.

  Jessica met him outside the door to the conference room. She had on a short suit and high heels, her hair in a loose bun. "Nice tie," she said coolly before walking in.

  Jack put a hand to his neck and realized he'd forgotten it. His collar was buttoned all the way up. He fumbled to undo it. If they started on time and he made an early escape, he could still make it to Turtle Soup.

  He peeked around the corner. Only Jessica and two other chairmen were loitering in the room. A secretary scurried to set out coffee before they asked for it. Jack checked his watch. He'd be lucky if he took the floor in a half hour.

  "Excuse me." He strode into the room and stuck his hand out to one of the chairmen.

  "How long before we get started?"

  "When we're ready," Jessica interrupted with a sneer. "You can take a seat outside and we'll let you know when we're ready to hear from you."

  Their eyes clashed and Jack saw a reflection in them of himself that he didn't like. He suddenly realized what he needed to do. He walked. He knew as soon as he turned the corner he could wave goodbye to moving the Foundation's exhibit, but it didn't seem to matter. Not one turtle in the sea would suffer more or less if Jack Brandon's research was conducted in a small cranny of the world's largest aquarium or at the front door. He was lucky to be there and grateful. It was enough. It had to be. Checking his watch, he hurried down to the parking lot.

  ****

  Dobbs was pacing back and forth in front of Turtle Soup just as he had been the first time Jack saw him. Swerving alongside the curb, Jack hopped out with his hand extended. "Dobbs."

  "Mr. Brandon."

  "Call me Jack."

  Dobbs nodded and stepped aside so Jack could lead the way. He realized he should have called first. There was no telling how Sara would react. They hadn't laid eyes on each other since she'd clobbered him with his planner.

  She was lying on her stomach across the counter with a bottle of glass cleaner in one hand and a towel in the other. Tossing her braid back over her head, she swung up. Her arms automatically crossed over her chest in defense when she saw it was him.

  "It smells delicious in here," Dobbs offered. Jack made a motion toward the critic and gave Sara a meaningful look. "This is Roy Dobbs, a friend of mine." Dobbs nodded at Sara then turned quickly to the menu.

  "Nice to meet you," Sara said brusquely. She put her cleaning supplies away.

  "Dobbs writes for the Constitution."

  "That so?"

  "I'm the food critic," Dobb's filled in.

  Sara did an about face, glancing suspiciously at Jack. "What can I do for you, Mr. Dobbs?"

  Dobbs went down the menu with a finger on his lip. He looked like a man who loved to eat. Jack pointed at the kettles. "You have to try the soup."

  "It's a little warm for soup."

  "I have a cold tomato," Sara offered. She pulled some greens out of a cooler. "We also have some fruit salad today."

  Dobbs leaned over the counter and studied the fruit salad. "That looks like the Cherry Whip my mother used to make."

  "It probably is," Sara said.

  "With pineapple?"

  "Fresh."

  "I'll take some fruit salad and a club sandwich on one of those seven grain rolls."

  Sara got busy and Dobbs took the opportunity to study the decor. "You have an affinity for the sea?"

  Jack watched her smile.

  "I'm just partial to blue water and long stretches of sand."

  "Aren't we all?" Dobbs noticed the jug of coins sitting at the end of the cookie display. He took a sample of Mexican wedding cookie and munched while reading the plea taped to the side. "You're closing up?"

  "Next week."

  Jack couldn't believe his ears. His feet felt leaden as he made his way over to read the sign. He knew things were bad, but he hadn't realized she was giving up. Sara glanced up over her work and Jack saw her cheeks turn pink.

  He couldn't stop himself. "I thought you were a fighter."

  "I know when to call it quits."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  Sara rolled her eyes. He wanted to offer her money but not in front of Dobbs. The critic seemed to be enjoying the drama.

  Sara pushed Dobbs' order across the counter. "On the house," she smiled.

  "No, my dear," the critic insisted. He took out a wad of cash and told her to keep the change. After he took his food to a nearby table, Jack picked up a cookie sample and moved toward the register.

  Sara looked back defiantly. "This is over."

  "Don't panic," Jack insisted. Anger welled up inside.

  "This isn't dive class, and I'm not panicking."

  "After everything you've invested, you're going to walk away?"

  "I'm taking a different road."

  "A soup kitchen?" Jack asked incredulously. "Are you even zoned for that?"

  Sara held her hand up to stop him from saying anything more. "It's taken care of. And it's not just a soup kitchen, there's an option to pay, too."

  "Nobody's going to pay for anything they can get for free."

  "Maybe in your world."

  "Do you really think people will come in here if you're handing out food to vagrants?"

  Sara smacked her hand down on the counter causing Dobbs to look up from across the room. "If people think they're too good to come in here then they can go somewhere else."

  Jack thought about the meeting he'd just ditched. "I can't believe you're going to sell out on your lifelong dream."

  "You don't know what my lifelong dream is."

  "I don't care," he whispered back.

  "Obviously."

  "Quitter."

  Sara reared back. "Get out of here."

  "I can't believe I went to the trouble of bringing him in." Jack glanced toward Dobbs.

  "A thousand thanks. You want a trophy?"

  Jack tossed the cookie onto the counter. "Don't bother, it wouldn't be worth the trouble."

  "Make sure you write that in your book," Sara snapped.

  He hurried over and took a chair beside Dobbs.

  "Everything alright?" Dobbs asked.

  "Wonderful. I have to take off though."

  "It was nice to see you again," Dobbs pointed a spoon at his cherries, "and well worth the trip."

  "Glad you like it." Jack to
ok two passes out of his wallet and laid them on the table. "Come see us when you get back in town."

  They shook hands and Jack left, not bothering to look back when he felt Sara's eyes. It should have been her arms wrapped around him, thanking him for bringing Dobbs in. She wouldn't give him a chance to help her, and it infuriated him.

  He fumed. From his townhouse to the airport, and the entire plane ride to St. Thomas, he raged until his guts hurt. She'd thrown the towel in instead of holding out for help to arrive. All the time he'd spent in Turtle Soup, all the private moments he'd invested in her, had yielded him nothing but ulcers. She was finished. She'd said so herself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Carly followed her around the house until it was time to leave. "Please let me go this time. I want to watch."

  "I can't have the distraction." Sara did a slow spin in the mirror to see how she looked in Ellen's swimsuit. She was tempted to go with a skirted bottom.

  "I won't get in the way," Carly insisted. She threw herself on the bed dramatically. "How am I ever going to learn anything?"

  "I take you with me everywhere. You could manage your own business by now."

  The flattery softened the disappointment somewhat, but Carly kept wheedling. "I could sit beside the pool and watch. I don't want to get in."

  "Right." Sara slipped her clothes back on over the swimsuit and picked up her dive bag.

  "Not this time, okay? I need to concentrate." She watched her niece pout from the window while she backed out.

  That night, the dive class would take their written tests. They were also going to run through their skills one last time. Sara's stomach fluttered. If she took her time and paid close attention there wasn't any reason she should have any problems, as long as Jack didn't show up.

  When she got to class, Guffin was passing out pencils. He gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "You ready?"

  "For this, yes." She pointed at the desk.

  "That doesn't sound confident."

  "I can do it," she said with false bravado.

  "That's more like it."

  The written part of the test only took a few minutes. Fortunately it was multiple choice. She had spent so much time worrying about dive skills she hadn't studied the handbook very closely. One of Guffin's assistants gave her the okay after checking her paper. "You passed, go suit up." Sara smiled meekly. She hurried down to pull on her wetsuit.

  The cool water passed through her wetsuit, warmed, and passed back out. Sara made her way to the bottom, squeezing her nose every few moments to take the pressure off her ears. Jack hadn't shown up after all. She told herself to relax and focus on the task at hand.

  When the class had congregated into a semi-circle around their instructor at the pool's bottom, they began. First they removed their regulators, then retrieved them and returned them to their mouths. Next they removed their BC's then put them back on. Sara was careful to hang on tight, her mind mentally ticking off the steps one by one. The moment came to leak water into their masks and blow from their noses to push it back out the mask seams.

  On her turn, she cracked the upper seal of her mask and it flooded; a shock of wet against her dry eyelids. Her teeth sank into the mouthpiece and she forced herself to breathe, slow, steady, automatic. She exhaled through her nose and the water cleared, leaving traces of salt in her nose, a wetness she had to sniff and swallow.

  Guffin gave her the okay signal and swam over to the center and they began again. He made the signal to take the masks completely off their heads, then put them back on and clear the water once more. Her stomach began to quiver, her thighs to tremble. It was easier to do it in three feet of water with the surface only inches over her head.

  The first diver removed his mask completely. Sara watched in fascination. It looked simple when someone else did it. The student replaced the mask and cleared it with no problem. She looked up. The top of the pool seemed miles away, a passage to freedom. She felt a nudge. The diver beside her had elbowed her. The rest of the class was waiting.

  Her hands moved mechanically to her face and she slowly lifted the mask off her head. It was all she could do. Try as she might she could not make herself put the mask back on, much less clear it. Thoughts of water shooting up into her sinus cavity and around in her brain assaulted her.

  Suddenly, she couldn't breathe, even through the regulator. If she did, it would be through her nose. Is this what it had been like for her mother, fighting the primitive urge to gasp? Sara felt arms on her and opened her eyes.

  Through the blur and sting of salt water, Guffin was on his knees. He gave the signal to breathe, his gaze penetrating. It was all she could do not to swim for the surface. Her heart began to throb loudly in her ears. Her chest ached. Suddenly Sara's fins pushed off without her telling them to, her body heading instinctively upward. She felt pressure on one of her legs as if someone was pulling her down and she thrashed to get away. She had to reach the surface. She had to breathe.

  Sara broke the surface with a loud splash and the room around her spun so wildly the edges of her vision went black. She lost control of her neck, her head lolling over in a near faint. Someone's arms wrapped around her in a tight grip. Guffin towed her to the side of the pool. "Girlie," she thought she heard him mutter, hard and angry. She felt terrible she had let him down, but relieved, and free. He pulled her mask off and studied her face. "I've taught you better than that!"

  Sara tried to find her voice to apologize but couldn't speak.

  "Are you okay?"

  She nodded weakly.

  "You don't panic!"

  "I had to breathe."

  "You were breathing!" Guffin found her mouthpiece and waved it wildly in the air. "That's what this thing's for. You had it in your mouth the whole time! The old man swore and rolled her up over the pool's ledge. "Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!" His words echoed around the room. "Get up there and rest. You're going back down after I bring the rest of the class up."

  "No."

  "We need to go down for a safety stop. If you don't, you'll be up all night hurting."

  "It's only fifteen feet."

  "You can still get bent at fifteen. It may be mild but it still hurts like hell, trust me."

  Sara, too weak to argue, shut her eyes and waited for Guffin to sink once more beneath the water. After the rest of the class surfaced, a few people swam over to check on her. Sprawled out like an exhausted minnow, she insisted she was fine but didn't move. As they began to change out of their suits and rinse their equipment, Guffin ordered her back into the pool.

  The water did not appeal to her anymore. Drifting down and then up slowly with a five minute pause in-between, Sara forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. There was no way she would be able to certify. She couldn't keep the thoughts of her parents from assaulting her.

  The failure weighed on her aching shoulders. Ellen had wanted to share this interest with her. And Jack—he'd expected her to come through with flying colors. He seemed so angry she was closing up Turtle Soup. This would only fuel his disgust.

  Guffin gave her the thumbs up and together they rose to the surface. She swam over to the side and began to remove her equipment in the water. "That's better," Guffin said from behind her, his voice brusque.

  "I guess I'm not going to the rock quarry."

  "You're welcome to try."

  Sara gave Guffin a look of doubt. "You can't be serious."

  "You can do this. You just have to want to."

  "I do want to. I just can't handle clearing the mask."

  "If you can't handle losing your mask in the water, you don't need to dive. You're welcome to come in and get some extra practice, but stay on the shelf."

  "Maybe I should have hit Jack up for extra lessons."

  Guffin looked sideways at her. "He told me about your parents."

  "He did?" Sara wondered what else he had told him.

  "We don't all get opportunities to face our deepest fears."

&nbs
p; "It's not a fear," Sara said quickly. "I just have a hard time not thinking about it."

  "Then do think about it." Guffin pulled his mask off and placed it carefully on the ledge. "Quit trying not to. Sooner or later, you'll come to a point where you won't have to anymore."

  "It won't be that easy for me."

  "It's not easy for any of us."

  Sara studied the deep lines in his face.

  "Most divers, those who have done this for a long time, all know people who have had accidents."

  "People die. I get that."

  "It's taken Jack a long time." Guffin had taken off his tank. He reached down beneath the water for a fin. "Holly and Jack were exactly alike. Opposites may attract but those two defied the odds."

  "Holly?"

  "His fiancée."

  Sara mentally floundered. She didn't know Jack had been engaged. She waited for him to go on.

  "I was there the day she died." Guffin caught her eye and made a sad face. "It can happen so fast, no matter how much experience you have."

  "I don't know the details," Sara carefully said. She wanted to beg him to tell her everything.

  "A beginner's mistake, Sara, and she was a pro. That's why we have the buddy system." Sara nodded as if she knew all about it.

  "They weren't speaking, when she got back from Australia. She just wasn't in a hurry to settle down." Guffin coughed as if the memory was stuck in his throat. "She went ninety feet down on a low tank of air and took off. I don't know for sure if one of us could have reached her in time, but she tried an emergency ascent instead of waiting to find out."

  "From ninety feet down?"

  "Too deep. Too fast. By the time we got up, they'd already pulled her onto the platform. There was blood," Guffin's voice dropped. "We couldn't resuscitate her."

  Sara swallowed. She pictured Jack desperately trying to save something he loved. "I can't imagine going through that."

  "It was more terrible for us than for her."