Chapter 2
The sun hung low onthe horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the tranquil coastal waters. It was a perfect morning for abalone diving, and Raf, an experienced diver, couldn”t have asked for better conditions. Clad in a sleek wetsuit, he stood at the edge of a rugged cliff, gazing at the pristine Tasman Sea below.
With a final deep breath, Raf took a confident step off the rocky ledge and plunged gracefully into the crystal-clear waters. The soothing embrace of the ocean quickly replaced the initial shock of the cold water. Sunlight filtered down through the surface, creating mesmerizing patterns of light and shadow on the seabed below.
As he descended deeper, Raf’s surroundings transformed into an underwater wonderland. Vibrant kelp forests swayed gently in the current, and schools of colorful fish darted among the swaying fronds. The occasional shaft of sunlight pierced through the water, illuminating the scene with an ethereal quality.
Raf’s practiced strokes propelled him further down, and he soon reached the rocky seabed where the abalone clung to the rocks. His keen eyes scanned the crevices and nooks, searching for the elusive mollusks. Their shells, iridescent with shades of green, blue, and pink, blended perfectly with the rocky terrain.
With a practiced hand, Raf gently pried an abalone from its hiding place. He marveled at the creature”s shell, its intricate patterns, and the shimmering mother-of-pearl interior. He placed the abalone carefully into a mesh bag, mindful of conservation regulations that limited the number he could collect.
As he continued his underwater treasure hunt, time seemed to stand still. Each moment was a silent communion with the underwater world, a world of serene beauty and delicate balance. The rhythmic sound of his breath, amplified by his diving equipment, provided a soothing soundtrack to his aquatic adventure.
Raf’s collection bag slowly filled with abalone, a testament to his skill and respect for the ocean”s bounty. Occasionally, he paused to admire a particularly beautiful specimen before carefully securing it for later. The gentle swaying of the kelp, the darting fish, and the play of light and shadow painted a picture of nature”s grandeur, one that Raf cherished with every dive.
With a last glance around this enchanting underwater realm, Raf began his ascent, his bag of abalone treasures in tow. As he broke the surface, the brilliant sunlight greeted him once more, and he couldn”t help but smile, grateful for the privilege of exploring the ocean”s depths and collecting these precious jewels from the sea.
Gasping for breath, Raf’s head broke through the water”s surface, and he quickly swam over to the small boat anchored nearby.
With practiced ease, Raf climbed up the ladder on the stern, carrying his mesh bag filled with abalone. The bag clinked softly as it met the boat”s wooden deck.
He stowed the abalone in a specially designed cooler, ensuring they remained fresh and cool until he returned to shore. The cooler was filled with a layer of seaweed to mimic the natural habitat of the abalone and maintain their vitality.
As he prepared to head back to the shore, the boat gently rocked with the rhythm of the sea. Raf took one last look at the underwater world he had just explored, its beauty imprinted in his memory. He knew that these underwater excursions were not just about harvesting the ocean”s bounty, but also about preserving and respecting the delicate balance of marine life. He had missed these expeditions in his four years at university, completing his undergraduate law degree, the first step to becoming a maritime lawyer.
With the abalone safely stored, he took off his wet suit and donned blue board shorts and a white shirt before he started the boat”s engine and began the journey back to the coastline. The sun had climbed higher in the sky, its rays casting a warm, inviting glow over the water. Seagulls circled overhead, adding their cries to the soothing melody of the ocean.
Raf revved the motor, feeling like he was surfing as he glided over the waves, the sea surf spraying him in the face. As he turned around the cliff and into his favorite bay, he glared up at the white hotel now perched above it like a gargoyle. He hated how the coastal town he’d grown up in was becoming commercialized and ugly in the four years while he was at university. Coming back was a shock to the system.
He’d been gone for too long and had to ensure he protected the bay”s beauty from vultures like Rex Heron, who only cared about profit and saw the beautiful bay as nothing more than a commodity.
He looked out at the cliffs and saw something glinting in the rising sun. He shielded his eyes as he peered out, and as the sun rose higher, he realized it was a young girl in a bikini on the cliffs. Shit. She must be one of those stupid influencers looking for the perfect shot who didn’t realize that the tide would make those cliffs a washing machine, churning everything in their wake.
He waved and shouted. ‘Come back. It’s dangerous.’ The girl peered at him, waving dismissively, then bent down. ‘You stupid girl,’ he muttered as he realized she wasn’t going to heed his warning. He angled his boat parallel to the cliffs and dropped anchor before leaping off the side of the boat, swimming in quick, gliding strokes into the heart of the waves.
He saw her topple over into the water, and she disappeared for a good 30 seconds before her head bobbed up quickly, her hands reaching for the cliff edge. She clung on briefly before going back under. He swam quicker, taking a deep breath as he dove under the waves and to the base of the cliff. Raf saw her floating to the bottom, her eyes half closed, her face blank as she drowned. He yanked her under the arms and swam to the surface, breaking through and taking a deep breath, hoping she did the same. A wave dragged them out and smothered them. He held the girl tightly as he dove under again, breaking through to the surface behind the break, and swam to the shore, holding her face out of the water, the way he’d been taught at the Regal Bay Nippers, the local lifesaver club he’d attended from the age of 5-14, before becoming a Junior Lifesaver volunteer. They were closer to shore than the boat, so he swam in that direction.
He was relieved to hear her coughing gently as he swam, and when he carried her out of the water, he glanced down, noting she was breathing, her bare breasts rising and falling with the rapid rise of her chest. He quickly looked ahead, his cheeks heating in a blush as he felt ridiculously embarrassed to be ogling her when she was in such distress.
Thankfully, she coughed up water on the beach and could talk, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was going to survive her stupidity. He watched her as they walked to the hotel, noting her full lips, the upper lips full than the bottom, and her delicate neck. She was beautiful. A beautiful distraction, he told himself.
As he went to leave her at the hotel courtyard, the girl asked him to dinner. He quirked a smile. ‘Absolutely,’ he said.
He was always in the mood for a holiday romance with a beautiful girl who would only be around short term, enjoying a few stolen moments under a beautiful sunset. No harm, no foul.
He saw her look of consternation and realized she didn’t have her phone. ‘Meet me at Rena’s on the boardwalk at 6,’ Raf said. When Josie nodded, he turned and walked out.
He whistled as he reached the beach and dove in, swimming back to his boat, feeling like a winner with both catches of the day.
* * *
Raf moored his boaton the dock and jumped onto the dock. His father’s grand mansion perched majestically on the edge of a rugged cliff overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean. Its white concrete facade reflected the sun”s brilliance, creating a dazzling contrast against the ocean”s deep blue below. A series of terraces and balconies with glass railings provide unobstructed vistas. And Raf eyed the window to his bedroom, loving how he felt like he was floating above the waves. He took his abalone and meandered down the stone pathways that wound through the gardens, through the lush greenery and native coastal plants that created a serene and inviting garden that his mother Susan maintained, and into the double doors leading to the kitchen.
His father, Jack, sat at the table sipping his coffee, steel-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he peered at the newspaper he held in his hand. He looked up as Raf came in, scrutinizing his catch. ‘A bit light, aren’t you?’ Jack said.
‘It’s enough for breakfast,’ Raf said, approaching Susan, who was at the sink and kissing his mother on the cheek.
She smiled at him and reached for his bag. ‘I’ll prepare it.’
‘Absolutely not.’ Raf smiled, took a bowl, and tipped his catch into it, their iridescent shells glistening in the sunlight coming through the large bay window to his side.
He picked up a sharp, curved knife and a specially designed abalone shucking tool, picked up an abalone, its shell rough and rugged, and started the delicate process of shucking.
Jack peered over. ‘In my day, I used to do this on the beach and sauté it on a fire, the ocean before me.’ Jack sighed nostalgically.
‘And then you became a multimillionaire and now have to do it in your state-of-the-art kitchen, with the ocean still before you,’ Raf teased, pointing out the million-dollar view of the ocean stretching out through the windows before them.
His father’s story was legendary. He’d grown up in the suburbs of Geelong and worked construction straight out of high school. He’d arrived in Royalty Bay, a coastal town, for a holiday and started abalone fishing to make travel money, only to fall in love with the Bay and the fisherman”s way of life. These tiny marine mollusks, known for their beautiful and colorful shells, were highly sought after for decorative and culinary purposes, and many fishermen had made their fortune from fishing them. His father always joked that he belonged in Royalty Bay because every Bay needed a King.
‘Mouthy pup,’ Jack muttered, folding his newspaper and placing it down on the table. ‘I’ll help.’ He stood next to Raf and collected another knife.
With practiced precision, Raf inserted the abalone tool between the shell and the meat, gently coaxing the two apart. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he successfully released the abalone from its protective shell. He placed the now-exposed abalone meat into a bowl of cold water, repeating the process with the remaining abalone.
Raf had missed these morning rituals with his father. He’d grown up fishing with his father and siblings, diving for their catch and eating it together.
He heard clicking and looked up to see his mother taking photos of them with her phone, a wide smile on her face. ‘I missed seeing my boys like this.’ She wiped a tear from her face and showed them the photo. He’d gotten his father’s height of 190 centimeters and his dark wavy hair, while he’d gotten his mother’s piercing green eyes. As he got older, he looked more like the old man, and his elder siblings, the King genetics winning in the gene pool with the high cheekbones and strong jaw.
His dad put his arm around his shoulder, and they smiled at the camera together. Jack patted him on the shoulder. ‘I missed you, my boy.’
‘I missed you too,’ Raf said, hugging him across the shoulders. His father had grumbled about Raf leaving the family business of abalone hunting to become a marine lawyer, but since he was the youngest of six siblings, he’d come around, eventually.
When the abalone shells were emptied and discarded, he rinsed the abalone pieces in cold water, cleansing them of any lingering sand or debris, and then patted them dry with a clean kitchen towel.
Raf turned his attention to a cast-iron skillet heating on the stovetop. He drizzled a small amount of olive oil into the pan and watched as it sizzled, a sign it was ready. Carefully, he placed the abalones into the sizzling skillet, one by one.
The kitchen filled with the sizzle and aroma of the cooking abalones. Raf added a pinch of sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, allowing the natural flavors of the sea to shine. He knew that the key to perfect abalone was simplicity and precision.
As the abalones seared in the pan, their flesh turned from a pale, translucent hue to a beautiful, opalescent sheen. Raf”s eyes remained focused on the skillet, adjusting the heat as needed to ensure a perfect sear without overcooking the delicate seafood.
The air was filled with anticipation as the abalones reached their optimal level of caramelization. Raf”s mouth watered, his culinary instincts guiding him. He carefully flipped each abalone with tongs, revealing a gorgeous golden-brown crust on the other side.
Raf”s heart swelled with satisfaction as he removed the abalones from the skillet and arranged them on a plate. Their vibrant colors and mouth-watering aroma a testament to his culinary prowess. He garnished them with a sprig of fresh parsley and a wedge of lemon.
He handed his father and mother a plate each, and they ate at the kitchen island. His father murmuring his appreciation. ‘At least you haven’t lost the Royal touch,’ Jack said, teasing, as he was the one who’d taught all his children to shuck and cook abalone from the time they could swim and dive.
‘Are you going to be home for dinner?’ Susan asked as Raf collected their dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.
‘I’ve got a date.’ He picked up an apple and headed upstairs.
‘You’ve only been in one day,’ Jack grumbled.
‘What can I say? It’s your fault for gifting me with the King genes,’ Raf teased.
‘Is she someone special?’ Susan asked.
‘They’re all special,’ Raf said. Being a local had meant many a holiday romance.
‘How is it I have six children, and not one of them has landed a relationship,’ Susan grumbled as she wiped down the kitchen island.
Even though the first four children were from Jack’s first marriage, after he tragically lost his first wife to cancer, and only Raf and his brother Jeremiah from his marriage to Susan, she viewed all the children as her own, and they all called her mum.
‘You should be directing that at Mateo and not me,’ Raf said. ‘After all, he is the oldest.’
Jack guffawed.
‘This is your fault. You keep telling them to sow their seeds. That’s all well and good, but when am I going to get a grandchild while I’m still young enough to enjoy them?’ Susan huffed.
‘It will happen. They just have to meet the right person.’ He yanked her into a hug and nuzzled her neck. She laughed and slapped him with a tea towel.
Raf bit into his apple, watching his parents’ joy. He wanted that, one day, in the future. Now, though, he had other things to occupy him. The first was finishing law school and starting his own practice.