Finders Keepers

by N. R. Walker

  “You’re sadistic,” I said with a smile.

  “You can teach me a lesson when you’re pummelling me into the mattress.”

  “And bossy.”

  “Yes, well,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I told you that. You’ll probably get sick of me barking orders at you sooner or later.”

  I pulled the car out onto the street and took his hand. “I highly doubt that.” Then for good measure, I added, “Boyfriend.”

  He lifted our joined hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Boyfriend.”

  We got back to his place and went through the side gate like two giggling, and very handsy, schoolboys. Wicket ran off, we realised a little belatedly, to greet Bernice.

  “Gee, don’t let the audience stop you.”

  Griffin and I broke apart. He tried to fix his hair and catch his breath. “Oh, hi,” he managed. “Didn’t see you there.”

  She laughed. “Clearly not.”

  “We, uh, we were just heading upstairs,” I said, embarrassed. “We’ve been out for dinner.”

  “How are you feeling?” Griffin asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” She waved him off. “Go on up. I’ll crank out some tunes so if the neighbours complain, at least it’ll be G-rated.” She stood up. “Any preferences? I’m in the mood for some Credence. Or what about a seventies remix?”

  “Ah, sure. Credence sounds good,” Griffin said, fighting a smile. “Um, we still good for that surfing lesson tomorrow? If you want to make it another day or next week, just let me know.”

  She stopped at her door. “Well, I’ll be fine. Whether you’ll be able to walk tomorrow is a different story,” she said to Griffin. Then she looked at me. “After Friday night, I’m surprised the boy can move. I would ask what the hell it is you do to him, but I really don’t think I want to know.”

  I barked out a laugh, and Griffin covered his eyes with his hand. “Oh God.”

  I stammered, “I don’t… it’s not like… he’s just vocal.” Griffin cringed into my side. For someone taller than me, he could fold himself down to tuck his face into my neck with ease.

  Bernice laughed. “So you don’t need mood music. You need something with bass. Credence it is then.” She put one foot inside, then stopped and looked back at us. “See you both in the morning. What time should I tell K?”

  Griffin poked his head around so he could see her. “I’ll mow the lawns after breakfast, then we can head down. Then we’ll be done in time to buy you both lunch.”

  “Deal,” she said, disappearing inside.

  By the time we got upstairs, “Lookin' Out My Back Door” began to play, and we both laughed. Bernice sure had a sense of humour. We didn’t get much further than closing the door before we were deep-kissing and hand-roaming. The chemistry between Griffin and me had reduced from sizzling to slow burn, and by the time we were on his bed, “I Put a Spell On You” was playing.

  Yeah, Credence Clearwater Revival was a great choice indeed.

  I sat with Bernice while Griffin mowed her lawn after breakfast. She was a little quiet but nothing I couldn’t put down to a mood and not a health concern. And I hadn’t given much thought about where it was I knew her from. She was just Bernice to me now, Griffin’s somewhat eccentric, stoner landlady.

  Later, we were walking onto the beach. Griffin, K, and I carried boards which K had kindly loaned us for the day. Bernice carried a towel and a tote bag, and Wicket ran ahead down to the water. Then a guy in a wetsuit with a board came out of the ocean and walked past us toward the car park.

  He was probably forty, maybe fifty years old. He stopped and stared at Bernice, probably wondering how a small, old woman could wear a huge straw sombrero, and K put his arm around Bernice protectively. She lifted her head high and mumbled something, but they both kept walking.

  The surfer guy looked at Griffin and me and grinned. “My God,” he said, amazed. “That’s Bunny Warren.” He shook his head, still smiling and seemingly stuck, like he wasn’t sure which way he’d been going.

  Griffin frowned and pulled me along, following after Bernice and K. “What the hell was that guy’s problem?” Griffin mumbled.

  It dawned on me then. “Holy shit. I just realised where I know Bernice from.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Griffin

  * * *

  I stopped walking and stared at Dane. “What?”

  “You know before when I said Bernice was familiar but I couldn’t place her?”

  “Yeah?”

  He grinned. “She’s Bunny Warren.”

  “Who?”

  “Just the greatest female surfer to ever live.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Bunny Warren,” he whispered. “I had no idea what her first name was. For all I knew, it could have been Bunny. She’s the one who made it on the pro circuit when men told her she couldn’t.”

  It was ringing some distant bell in my memory… “I was never really into surf culture.”

  “It’s a famous story around here. Back in the late seventies, early eighties. She fought for women’s surfing, won some title, got some huge sponsorship deal, but disappeared. Never surfed again.”

  I looked to where Bernice was now straightening a towel out on the sand. She fixed her huge hat to ensure as much of her stayed out of the sun as possible. She was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, which I’d never seen her wear—I’d only ever seen her in singlet style shirts, but she was being very sun-smart today—and her long grey hair was in a single plait down her back.

  “The scars down her neck and arm,” I said softly. “It was melanoma. She told me. She said the doctors saved her life but took the use of her arm and took her career.”

  Dane’s brow furrowed. “Oh man. That sucks so bad.” He looked toward where Bernice and K were.

  I put my hand on his arm before he could start walking again. “Don’t let on that you know. If she wanted us to know, she’d have told us.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

  We walked down the hot sand to where they’d set up camp, and Wicket came running over after exploring God knew where. Dane planted his board into the sand, standing it up. “So, how do we start?”

  “Lay your boards down,” Bernice said. “Griffin needs to learn how to stand before he can surf.”

  Dane could surf, though it had been years since he’d done it. There had to be a ‘like riding a bike’ thing for surfing. I mean, surely once you knew how, a muscle memory brought it all back.

  But me? I had no clue.

  I laid my board down in the sand and gave it a once over, making Bernice snort. “It ain’t gonna bite ya.”

  I cringed. “Just so you know, I have no sense of balance and this might very well be as frustrating for you as humiliating as it is for me.”

  K looked somewhat pained. “Can you swim?”

  “Oh, sure.”

  His relief was evident. “Okay then. That’s a start.”

  Bernice sat on the towel and gave instructions, while K stood next to me and helped with the logistics of my long limbs. We knelt on the boards, then pretended to be paddling, getting a feel for the side-to-side motion of the board moving under our weight.

  Then we had to hold onto the board and jump to our feet. Which sounded easy, and Dane did it easy enough, and K put his board down on the sand next to me to help show me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t do it.

  After I failed another five times, Bernice stood up, mumbling and cussing at me under her breath. “Get off the board,” she said.

  I did as I was told and she took my place. She got down on her knees, then using only her right hand, she pushed herself up and got to her feet. “Like that,” she said, stepping off the board.

  “Oh, okay, because that’s not difficult or anything,” I said sarcastically.

  K grinned at her, a look of wonder on his face. I had the feeling she hadn’t stepped onto a board in a long, long time because his expression said as much.


  Bernice rolled her eyes and waved him off, sitting back on her towel. “Shut up,” she said, fixing her hat.

  Still smiling, K showed me again, in slow motion this time, explaining in small steps. “Look around the water. See where the wave’s at. Grab the board. Breathe. Hoist up. Feet underneath ya. Don’t rush to stand. Get your balance first. Breathe. Stand.”

  Jesus Christ. K had to be pushing seventy and he was running rings around me. I couldn’t give up.

  I tried it again and again, and the more tired I got, the harder it became, but after what felt like an eternity, I did it.

  I got to my feet and put my hands above my head, like some kind of victory dance for the lame. “I did it!”

  Dane and K laughed, and Bernice rolled her eyes. “Now try doing it in the water.”

  I looked out to the ocean. “Oh.”

  K clapped me on the shoulder. “It’s not that daunting. Come on. Let’s skin this cat.”

  Skin this cat? “What?”

  K laughed. “Sorry. Forgot which generation I’m talking to.”

  Dane grinned beside me. He looked kinda gorgeous in the bright sunshine with the blue Pacific Ocean rivalling the colour of his eyes. “I have the feeling I’m going to be doing this whether I really want to or not.”

  “Go on,” Bernice said from beneath her huge hat. “What’s the worst that could happen? Getting wet?”

  “Seeing a shark,” I said. “Actually being bitten by a shark.” I looked back out to the water. I broke out in a sweat that had nothing to do with the sun. “Jesus. We’re not going to see a shark, are we?”

  K smiled. “That’s the beauty of the Great White. You don’t often see them before they get ya.”

  I took a step back. “Nope.”

  Dane laughed. “They have nets up. You’ll be fine.”

  K laughed at me. “Honestly, I was just joking. Your biggest worry out there is getting up on your board.”

  Dane made a face that was half-frowny, half-smiley. “Come on, babe.”

  “Babe? I’ll have you know, babe, if I die a gruesome death from Jaws, I’m gonna be really pissed.”

  He laughed. “You’re cute when you’re snippy. So I reckon you’ll be hot AF when you’re pissed.”

  K picked up his board, then nodded at ours. “Come on, let’s skin this… let’s do whatever the kids do these days.”

  The cool water was a beautiful reprieve from the hot sun and sand, and I managed to carry the board into the water without banging the fins into my shins too much. As soon as it was deep enough, I held the board to my chest and careened onto the surface with more grace than I deserved, and I began to paddle.

  Dane, who was paddling on his own board, looked over to me and grinned. The way droplets of water refracted the sunlight off him was glorious and distracting because I watched him nose in under a wave, and before I could think about what he was doing, the same wave dumped me.

  I broke the surface, gasping for air and grappling with the board, but managed to haul myself back onto it. Both Dane and K were well ahead of me now, laughing at me.

  “Go under the wave,” Dane called out.

  I shook my hair out. “I would have if you weren’t looking so damn hot and distracting me.”

  Dane laughed and K shook his head, and as soon as we were far enough out, he sat up on his board, feet dangling. He’d taken us to the end of the beach where the beginner surfers could stay out of the way of the better surfers, and the swimmers tended to stay between the flags. Apart from a few other guys, we were completely alone. Thankfully. I didn’t fancy failing in front of an audience.

  It really was a gorgeous day, though. The sun was beaming, a few white clouds dotted the blue sky, the water was aqua-green and crystal clear.

  Then K started counting the waves coming in, telling us to get a feel for the rhythm and explaining which waves were good to surf and which were good to leave alone.

  They all looked the same to me.

  But then he got up on his knees as a wave rolled in. “Okay, watch this. Start paddling when it’s that far away. Paddle, paddle…” Then he got up to his feet and rode the wave a few metres before careening off the crest, lowered himself back down, and paddled back to us. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Dane went first. He watched, he waited, he counted, then started to paddle like crazy, and got up on his feet. He rode the wave for a good while, making it look easy.

  “Yeah!” K said proudly, raising his fist in cheer. Dane paddled back toward us, his face split into a grin.

  “Hey, Griffin,” K said, snapping his fingers. I went from staring at the sexiness that was Dane and looked at K. “Stop checking out the scenery and watch for your wave.”

  Oh God, I was actually going to try to surf.

  I did as they did. I got up to my knees, I watched, I waited, I started paddling like mad, and the wave took me. I felt the force of the wave lift me, steady the board, and I knew that was the moment I had to get to my feet.

  I gripped the board and heaved myself up, bringing my feet in under me. And I stood. Holy shit, I was surfing!

  Well, I was surfing for half a second before I lost balance and bit the surface, but for the briefest moment, I was surfing! I broke to the surface and grabbed my board, breathlessly paddling back to Dane and K. I laughed. “Did you see that? I did it!”

  “You did good, kid,” K said.

  Dane was grinning at me, but then he swivelled his head around to look at the shore. “Can you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” I asked. I couldn’t hear anything, just the sound of my blood pumping in my temples. I shook my head to clear the water from my ears and then a sound carried on the wind.

  A dog was barking.

  “That’s Wicket,” Dane said.

  K paddled over, studying the shoreline, and the three of us stopped, waited, and listened. It was hard to see because we were quite far out, especially with the rise and fall of the ocean, but on every crest, we could see Wicket facing us, barking.

  “That’s not his normal bark,” Dane said. “Something’s wrong.”

  K sprang into action, belly down, paddling hard, and Dane and I scrambled to follow him. K body-surfed his board into shore, jumped to his feet, and ran through the water up the sand to Bernice.

  He was faster than us, but we weren’t that far behind him. I could see Bernice was lying back, and she might have looked peaceful, but her leg was bent at an odd angle. Not like she’d lain down, but like she’d fallen back…

  “Bernie,” K called out. He went to his knees beside her and shook her gently. “Bernie!”

  No response.

  K shook her a little harder, his voice starting to panic. “Bunny, wake up!”

  She stirred but didn’t fully come to. K looked up at us. “Call 000.”

  But a lifeguard appeared right then and knelt beside her and took immediate action. She had a walkie-talkie and was talking into it, codes or directions for something. “Has she been ill?” the lifeguard asked. “Drinking?”

  We all shook our heads. My heart was pounding. The adrenaline and fear made my hands shake. “She’s been feeling off for a day or two,” I said. “I think the doctor told her she had to watch her diet. Something to do with blood sugar.”

  K looked up at me, and it was pretty clear this was news to him.

  I shrugged at him. “I don’t know any more than that. She wouldn’t say.”

  The lifeguard’s walkie-talkie crackled to life and I couldn’t hear what it said because Bernice mumbled something, and K cradled her head. “You’re such a stubborn old fool,” he said, so lovingly and painfully, it hurt my heart.

  “Ambulance’ll be here soon,” the lifeguard said. “Let’s get her out of the sun.”

  K picked her up and carried her off toward the shade near the car park, while Dane picked up Wicket and I collected all our belongings. Sirens wailed in the distance, getting louder, coming faster.

  The adrenaline waned a
nd left behind an awful, hollow feeling. Frightening. To see Bernice so weak and ill and to just stand there useless, helpless, was such a horrible situation.

  But soon the ambulance arrived. Two guys in uniform met us with a gurney, asked us a few questions we couldn’t rightly answer, strapped Bernice in, and loaded her into the ambulance.

  “I’m going with her,” K said. No one dared argue.

  “Which hospital are you taking her to?” I remembered to ask.

  “Nambour,” one paramedic replied.

  I gave K a nod. “We’ll see you there.”

  They left, and as soon as they were out of the car park, the sirens started again, this time fading as they got further away.

  Dane, who had Wicket now tucked under one arm, patted me with his free hand. “Come on. Grab the boards. Let’s go.”

  Of course. Yes. God, it felt like I was stuck, but his reminder made me move. A small crowd had gathered around, and one guy had kindly brought our boards up. “Thank you,” I said to him, grabbing them and loading them into the back.

  Dane held onto Wicket and climbed into the passenger seat. “Should we go home first? Drop Wicket and the boards off. They won’t let us in to see her straight away,” he said calmly, giving my knee a squeeze.

  “Yeah, good idea.” They certainly wouldn’t let us in to see her if we had a dog with us. I gave Wicket a pat. “You knew something was wrong, didn’t you, buddy?”

  He stood on Dane’s leg, his little tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, looking rather pleased with himself. Dane gave him a hug. “You did good today, hey, little guy.”

  I drove straight to my place because it was quicker than going down to Dane’s. I put the boards in the garage and let Wicket into my place. Dane made sure he had water and gave him one of those organic chews, and with a promise to see him again soon, we left.

  I didn’t know how to get to Nambour, so Dane drove my car. It wasn’t that far, maybe fifteen–twenty minutes, but it felt like ages. I stared out at the scenery, cane fields giving way to houses as we got closer.