Matt placed his palms on the wooden, picnic table. “Tell me about magazine editing. I imagine it’s difficult to land a job in that field. How’d you manage it?”
Suzie’s pulse slowed, and she sat up straight. Matt made her sound special. “Most periodicals have a specific audience. Many editors are authorities in their fields.” Suzie rolled the corner of her napkin. “I enjoy interviewing people about their accomplishments.”
“How’d you develop the craft?”
“After college, I wrote press releases in a public relations department. My boss, an experienced, retired newspaper guy, taught me a lot. I stayed there two years then accepted a position with the Western Insider to learn about magazines.” How hard she’d worked to become a professional. Knowing she couldn’t use the skills struck her heart like a swift, sharp arrow, and she slumped.
Matt leaned forward, his dark eyes intense as though her profession really interested him. “That’s great. If you want to pick up a little extra money, Cammie O’Shea, the feature editor at our brand new newspaper, The Sun Dial, might accept freelance articles.”
Suddenly, the fog hovering over Suzie lifted. Had Matt planned this since he asked so many questions about her job at the Western Insider that first night they sat together on The Wharf? Hope raced up her spine, but being new in Destin, she knew no one. Except Matt, of course. “I could interview you. Have they featured you?”
Matt’s cheeks turned red. “I hardly think I’m newsworthy.”
“Here ya go.” The waitress set a large bowl of broccoli in front of her. “We gave you plenty.”
“Thank you. It looks wonderful.” Suzie appreciated such a generous portion of the fresh, green vegetable, steamed just the way she wanted it. Apparently, this waitress and cook cared about pleasing customers, and that’s why this server had questioned her. Suzie would return here.
Matt picked up the ketchup and poured it over his shrimp and French fries. “I eat a little food with my ketchup.” He grinned.
“Whatever tastes good to you.” She was more tolerant of others’ eating habits than he could ever imagine. Most people had no idea how lucky they were when they sat down and shoveled whatever they wanted to in their mouths.
He cut off a bite of shrimp. “Why don’t you write about our new swim team and sell that to Cammie?”
Suzie scooped up a bite of her vegetable. “I’d be surprised if Cammie doesn’t have an announcement about the team. Most government offices and companies have public relations departments to handle that type of publicity. To sell an article as a freelance writer, I have to find something out of the ordinary Cammie wouldn’t see in her press release file. At least that’s the way it worked at home.”
Matt sipped his tea. “I’ll see if I can come up with something.”
“Now, if you would wrestle an alligator...”
Matt snorted as he swallowed and nearly turned over his shrimp basket laughing. “Don’t think that’s gonna happen. If I hear of anyone wrestling one, I’ll let you know.”
“Seriously, I appreciate the opportunity. When I worked at the Western Insider, I often heard great stories by listening to people’s everyday conversations. I’ll keep my ears open.”
Matt’s dark eyes still held a spark of laughter. “I will too.”
How kind of him to think of a way to supplement her income. “I’d love to write about the Okaloosa Dolphins. I just don’t think the editor would pay for the article if she received information from your public relations department. Do you have one?”
“Sort of. Sandra Jones works for the Chamber of Commerce, but she puts out a quarterly newspaper for us. Now that you mention it, I imagine she will send something to Cammie, even though the team members live in outlying areas.”
Surprise ran through Suzie. “They don’t live in Destin?”
“No. Their parents are the cooks, waiters, waitresses, and other service personnel who make our tourist seasons work. Some of them commute an hour or more from here. This winter, they asked if we could offer childcare for the summer. It made sense to have the kids here, where their parents would need a minimum amount of time to deal with an illness or emergency.”
This team was like a loosely woven tapestry that could fray with one wrong pull. “I see why the moms and dads can’t bring them in age groups.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “After they drop the kids off at the activity center early in the mornings, lots of the children go back to sleep for an hour or so.”
Suzie swallowed the last of her tea, and Matt laid down his napkin.
“The families pay a small fee, but it doesn’t cover the cost of the program. The county’s making up the difference.” Matt pushed the paper food basket away.
“I’m surprised more aren’t participating.”
“They qualified for the program. If they had access to any other care, the county rejected them. We accepted thirty applicants who chose not to join the swim program. Some are into gymnastics. Others are learning crafts.”
“Thanks for giving me background on the children.”
“Sure. In a way I relate to them. That’s probably why I favored the program as soon as I met with their delegation. Even though my mom was around when I was a kid, my dad worked late hours and most weekends. I didn’t see much of him.”
Matt shrugged. “Maybe it was for the best that I wasn’t close to him. He believed in keeping life simple by rocking along. At the first sign of rough water, he’d either straighten out the problem immediately or bow out. So many times I heard him say, ‘Keep a distance that allows you to back off in a hurry.’ I think he must have carried an awful hurt to adopt that attitude. I couldn’t understand it until all hope I had of playing professional football blew up. Then I knew. I never wanted to care about something that much again.”
Did Matt mean he didn’t ever want to care about a person, either? “None of us want pain in our lives, but if we put ourselves in a shell, we miss so much.” Did he invite her to dinner to explain the swim team in more detail? Did he unintentionally digress? Perhaps. Lots of people opened up to her. It wasn’t unusual for her to hear about a stranger’s family while going down the same aisle with him or her in the grocery. “I enjoyed my dinner.”
Matt’s eyes snapped open as though her words surprised him. “How about a stroll on the beach before you leave?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The salty sea air blew in the Bermuda shade and caressed Suzie’s cheeks, replacing the stifling heat from the day with a warm breeze. She breathed in the moment. The rhythm of the waves washing on a peaceful shore reflected the consistency she’d found in Matt. She suppressed the urge to jump up and hug him. The last time she’d seen Carson, he couldn’t leave fast enough after he’d accused her of taking drugs. The sound of his voice, the way he’d talked to her as though she were subhuman, stayed in her head like a tick sucking joy from her. Matt seemed to want to be with her. “I’d enjoy a stroll.”
The waitress brushed by and left their bill.
Matt paid with cash, and Suzie stood.
He placed his hand on her back, guiding her out the doorway to the steps leading to the beach, and her heart fluttered. Did he sense a spark of something too? What a silly question. He was a kind guy with good manners. To clear her head, she shook it.
They stopped at a wooden platform beside a dune peppered with sea oats blowing in the wind, removed their flip-flops, and placed them on a shelf. Underneath shades of twilight, they plodded over the sandy embankments to flatter ground beside the emerald sea. A flock of seagulls standing like guards of the shore squawked then soared into the sky. So much happiness flowed through Suzie, her heart rose with the birds. She kicked up brine with her toes and waded out.
“Don’t go too far.” Matt held out his hand as if to halt her, but she strode right past it.
The lapping of the waves, the grandeur of the ocean called to her. The earthly cares that pulled on her could no longer hold her. She charged into the
water. She turned around, glanced at Matt, and threw up her arms. “It’s only three feet deep, and you forget, I’m a swim team coach.” Suddenly terror ripped up her spine. “Are those sharks?”
Matt pulled her back. “Yes, they swim close to the shore in the early evening. It’s just my theory, but I believe dusk makes them think they’re in deeper water. They won’t bother you unless they’re hungry or you bump into them, but…”
Suzie sprinted out, leaving Matt in her wake, the brine splashing around the calves of her legs until she reached shore.
Matt hurried to her.
“You won’t have to tell me twice. I don’t want to hit one of those nasty creatures or look like dinner to them.”
Matt threw back his head and laughed loud. “I didn’t bring a flashlight. We probably need to start back, even though I don’t want to. This relaxing evening on the beach is just what I needed after the flurry of the past two weeks. I moved into a new condo.”
“That’s great.”
“I suppose it’s going to be. I’m tired from settling in and keeping up with work.” Matt wrapped his hand around Suzie’s waist and squeezed. “Walking with you refreshed me.”
Her heart thumped so loud she feared he might hear it. “I enjoyed it.” Matt’s touch, the compliment, and glimmering silver-streaked waves underneath the moon made this evening surreal. “I once went to a shore where tourists set off firecrackers at night. Is it always this peaceful out here?”
“Destin’s pretty tranquil. Firecrackers aren’t allowed on the beach. During the busy season, beachcombers stay out late fishing, walking, or visiting with each other, but they aren’t boisterous.”
“There’s so much I don’t know about Destin. You’ll have to excuse my questions if they seem silly to someone who’s lived here an entire life.”
“Ask away. Anything you want to know.”
“That’s all I have for now.”
* * *
Matt’s heart filled with the warmth of Suzie. He led her across sand glistening from the light atop a pole on the platform where they’d left their flip-flops. The fun with her tonight had made him forget his job was a means to a salary instead of a passion. He’d bet money, if he’d known her in high school, she would’ve told him to play quarterback in college. She had a reach-for-your-dreams, try-the-impossible air about her. It did his soul good. She picked up her pace, going ahead of him, a beautiful silhouette floating across the shore. Still, his sixth sense told him there was sadness or difficulty hovering over her like a cloud.
He caught up to her as she reached the wooden deck and turned on the spigot. She stuck her feet under the water, wiggled her cute, small toes, and the gritty sand disappeared.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.” She slipped on her shoes and started toward her car.
“Wait up.” Matt bent down to slide on his footwear. “I’ll walk you.” He stepped up beside her. Then the instant she clicked the lock on her vehicle, he grasped the handle and held the driver’s door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He waited to leave until she cranked her engine and left.
Luck shone on him the day she showed up in his office. Sweat popped out on his forehead. He swiped it with his arm as he walked to his car. What a disaster the new swim team would have been without her. He scooted into the driver’s seat then backed the car out, wheeled onto Highway 98, and drove to the new condo.
He parked in the first numbered space he’d ever had just for him and went inside. The fresh paint smell wafted through the room. He threw his briefcase on the beige leather sofa and plopped down. How could such a small piece of luggage carry enough paperwork to smother a person?
He pulled out papers and a pencil and tapped the eraser end on his knee. Then he picked up the document about beach restoration and studied it. The county needed to work with the state of Florida to build dune bridges at three public access points. Should they erect permanent structures with thirty-foot pilings or use the less costly eight-foot pilings? The more shallow pilings probably couldn’t withstand a storm. For sure the deep ones could, but the bridges might need to be replaced after a destructive hurricane. He scratched his head.
He’d pass this to Harold who could figure out the cost of both, make a recommendation, and coordinate with the state. Either he or Harold had to entertain the kids, and it wasn’t going to be Harold. He claimed not to be good with children, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t good with figures.
Matt flipped through a few more pages. Tips for preventing storm water runoff pollution needed to be posted when he visited the public parks. Uh-oh, no one had gathered estimates for resurfacing two older tennis courts. He shoved the papers back in his briefcase, shut it, and clasped his hands behind his head. The events of the evening lingered in his mind.
Suzie had the cutest personality and was the kind of person people opened up to, like him when he told her about Dad’s philosophy of rocking along and keeping a distance.
He and Dad had grown more apart each year of Dad’s life. Dad didn’t want to be close to anyone, but did that philosophy work for Matt? Some days, it seemed he took up space with no more depth than a person in a painting. He wanted to jump off the page and come to life in 3-D. Was Suzie giving him more dimensions? Matt put the eraser end of the pencil on his cheek. Had he been living like a dune bridge with an eight-foot-piling?
* * *
Suzie stepped out of the car and strolled underneath soft lighting to her door. Inside, she switched on the light, the click echoing in the quiet room. She still carried the supplements Dr. Granger had sold her in her black purse. She arranged them in a neat cluster on the dining room table, an unlikely centerpiece but a perfect spot. She couldn’t miss them.
The pink paper with instructions lay at the bottom of her pocketbook. She pulled it out then snatched up the bottle closest to her and twisted off the cap. Squeeze eight drops under the tongue. Easy enough. She swallowed those and repeated the action until she’d finished one dosage from all of the tinctures and herbal mixtures.
She plunked down on the navy sofa. Relaxing before she got into bed usually made what sleeping she did easier. As tired as she was, she didn’t even try to concentrate on a book but turned on television.
The sound seemed far away. The screen swirled. The sweeping weakness surged over her like a hurricane. Her body shook until her teeth chattered. She inhaled deep breaths. The sensation washed over her again with more power. She writhed as another wave hit, her arms flopping like a ragdoll’s. Fear swelled inside her.
Call Dr. Granger. She yanked her purse zipper open with a shaky hand. Her fingers quivered next to her billfold as she snatched it. Another swell of faintness swooped over her. Terror screamed inside her like owls screeching, and she dropped the wallet. Oh dear Lord, please help me. I have to get Dr. Granger’s phone number.
She lay on her side, her arms clutched around her chest. All reason floated somewhere in the distance, nothing but sickness filling her brain. She stared at the money case then waved her hand over it. She touched the tip of it then the malady sapped her last ounce of energy. Her heart sank. She gave up.
A voice inside her head said no. It wasn’t time, not now, when hope waited just around the corner. Deliberately, she thrust her palm forward and wrapped her fingers around the billfold. It slipped, but she pressed hard. The grip secured.
She laid back her aching head, breathed deep, and clutched the case to her chest. The sweeping phenomenon washed over her like high tide coming ashore as she unsnapped the compartment with Dr. Granger’s card. Energy charged through her like a live wire. The shaking. The spinning. Panic smothered her, and she gasped for air. Oh please, dear Lord, let me get Dr. Granger’s number.
She trembled as she pulled out her business cards. Half of them spilled onto the floor. Dr. Granger’s lay in the palm of her hand, but the number blurred with the movement. She let it slide onto the sofa then rummaged in her purse for the cell phone. T
he tormentor living inside ripped her again. The phone slipped out of her purse and hit the floor as she fell back on the sofa. She was going to die.
No, the voice said. Hold on. Hold on tight. She mumbled, “Hold on tight,” as she grasped the cell. Then she pushed the digits. Wooziness zapped her like a bolt of lightning, and her hand quivered over the last numeral.
Please hang up and make your call again. Please hang up and make your call again.
Her shaking hand fell at her side. It didn’t matter whether she called Dr. Granger or not. If she lived, she’d never take another supplement. Indigestion rumbled in her stomach. Air lodged in her chest, and she couldn’t burp. She could hardly breathe. Dr. Granger was her only hope. She wrapped her hand tight around the phone and tried again.
“This is Dr. Granger.”
“This is Suzie Morris. I’m so sick. I can’t take these supplements. I appreciate your seeing me, but I can’t do this.”
“What’s happening?” Calm lined his voice.
“The weakness that comes over me sometimes at night is hitting me every few minutes. My insides are racing like a herd of wild horses. I’m shaking, and I have horrible pains in my stomach.”
“You’re all right.”
If this was all right, she’d never live through the next phase of treatment.
“You’re detoxing too fast. It happens occasionally when someone is sensitive to the supplements. I don’t know if you had a chance to read over the papers I gave you or not.”
She’d barely found time to cater to this illness, work, and go to dinner with Matt. “No.”
“The instructions explain that chocolate or peppermint will stop the detoxifying. Do you have either?”
The answer popped in her head, but she didn’t have the strength to speak. Dr. Granger waited on the line. She swallowed. “I’ve been drinking peppermint tea for indigestion.”
“That’s good. Are you able to make a cup?”
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll stay on the phone with you until you drink some of it. What’s happening now?”
Barely Above Water Page 6
