Chapter 27
Julian thought he should pinch himself.
The last few weeks had felt like a dream. He’d even cancelled the order he’d made for books about the female psyche. It turned out Petula was really good at communicating, and he took every advantage of that. Who needed books?
Their scheme to keep Petula safe also seemed to be working perfectly. There had been no additional stalker-sightings, which either meant Jefferson had given up, or was laying low after almost having been caught at the hospital.
Petula however, continued to—at least half-heartedly—defend her brother, saying that he hadn’t seemed like he’d wanted to harm her.
She’d floated the idea of having either Sherbert or Tex reach out to find Jefferson somewhere in the ether to suggest a face-to-face meeting, but so far Statler had put the kibosh on that.
Julian couldn’t say he disagreed with that decision.
His brain bounced back to his and Petula’s sex life. They had, in just a short amount of time, progressed to where Petula was not only confident in her abilities and her orgasms, but she’d begun leaving the curtains open a crack to let a sliver of light inside.
Julian could foresee that it was only a matter of time until she would be comfortable enough, and darkness wouldn’t be necessary at all. TBD, for sure. And if it didn’t happen? He was happy with things the way they were, and certainly wouldn’t push.
Each morning, after incredible nights in bed together, Petula’s self-proclaimed protectors—himself included—took turns following her on her route, even though she was beginning to poo-poo the necessity.
Good luck with that, Julian thought. There was no way Statler was going to give up his surveillance until they were certain Jefferson wasn’t in the area any longer.
Julian glanced out the kitchen window while sipping his coffee.
It was a beautiful spring, Saturday morning.
He was waiting for Petula to get out of the shower, and he might be sulking just a bit.
She’d forbidden him to join her—even with the lights off and the window covered, as they’d done several times before—because she knew they’d end up playing for far too long, and they had an agenda today.
Julian couldn’t fault her. She’d been excited for the entire week about being indoctrinated into Diver Downeast’s inner workings, and today was the day she was going to get a taste of it all.
To prepare, she’d been intensely engaging with Julian, assiduously for weeks now, to ease her fear of the water, and it was going well.
He’d managed to get her into a wet-suit, and she’d actually dipped into the lake they used for practice sessions—albeit holding onto Julian for dear life—all the way up to her waist before she’d had to turn around.
Since then, she’d accompanied him, along with his siblings and wives, to the ocean, and watched without horror as they’d all tried out new gear, run a few training sessions, and eventually cavorted in the waves.
She hadn’t participated, but had paddled in the shallows, cheering them on.
She’d gotten her feet wet, both literally and figuratively.
It seemed that Petula’s near-death experience in her UPS van hadn’t set her back.
It had, in actuality, made her braver. Today, however, would put Petula’s fortitude to the ultimate test. Julian was taking her out in the Zodiac on the lake where she’d previously waded, to see how she reacted being farther away from shore.
Tabbi and Jett were accompanying them, and if Julian fell down on the job and somehow missed that Petula was silently freaking out, his sisters-in-law would smack him in the head and pick up the slack.
If Petula did well with today’s boat ride, the plan was to let her sleep on her progress tonight, then soon, Tabbi would take them out in the small submersible.
A huge step, but they wouldn’t take a long trip, and they’d breach the depths by no more than a few feet.
Still, it was a lot to ask. Julian was proud that Petula had not only agreed to both excursions, but seemed to be excited over the prospect of proving to herself that she was stronger than she’d let herself believe.
“Did you pour me a cup?” she asked, sidling up next to Julian, surprising him. He’d been so far into his own head, he hadn’t heard her coming. Was it possible he was more nervous for today than she was?
Duh. Of course he was. Anything that might cause angst for Petula, bothered him exponentially.
“Nope. I didn’t know how long you’d be, but I can make you one, now.” He moved toward the tower of pods on display at the far end of the counter.
“That’s okay,” she said breezily. “I can get it myself.”
Before she went around him, Petula went up on tiptoes to kiss the back of his neck, then reached up into a cabinet to grab a mug.
Julian was amazed. How could she appear so…relaxed?
He remembered facing some of his own fears during his “shrimp-dom” when he was young and uncertain. Every time he’d made the decision to stand up for himself or put himself out there for ridicule, he’d felt like throwing up.
It had been distressing.
So… Was Petula putting on an act for him?
Julian needed to find out.
“You know, we can call this off any time you want,” he said. “Nobody’s going to judge you.”
Petula shook her head as her cup filled.
“No. I can do this.” She tipped her head to one side.
“I’m actually looking forward to it. See what a beautiful day it is?
” She turned and waved her hand at the window where sun streamed in, then beamed at him.
“Besides, I’ll have three experienced divers with me.
If I throw a hissy and have us capsizing or something, none of you will let me drown.
That’s been proven already with you, Spence, Buck, and Trask. ”
Julian’s heart swelled. She felt safe with him. As well she should. He was going to make sure that these two new experiences were nothing short of risk-free and epic.
“I’m ready if you are,” she told him fifteen minutes later after eating one of the blueberry muffins they’d made together the previous night.
Julian’s sweet tooth had been calling to him before bed, and Petula had suggested whipping up the confections because it would suffice for breakfast, as well.
They’d had fun, and the upside of those late-night antics? When he’d lifted her up onto the counter for some kissing, she’d flashed him a breast.
Blueberry muffins might now be his new favorite.
“All set.” He grabbed the keys to the rental, which—like every other morning—they would drive to his father’s barn and swap out for his truck. The only difference was, instead of going to the UPS hub, after, they’d head to the shop to meet up with the ladies.
Twenty minutes later, he and Petula walked into Diver Downeast to a scene of pandemonium. Equipment was being amassed on the counter, and orders were being shouted back and forth.
“What’s happening?” Julian managed to make himself heard above the din.
“Log drive gone bad up north,” Spencer told him. “A couple of the river-pigs are missing.”
“River pigs?” Petula questioned, her face puzzled.
“Log drivers,” Julian explained, kicking in to help with the rescue equipment they’d need. “They guide the logs downriver, at great risk to themselves, preventing jams and clearing snags with peaveys.”
“That must mean those long hooks I’ve seen before?” she clarified.
“That’s right,” Julian confirmed. He turned to Spencer. “What caused the accident?”
From what Julian understood from his many years in Maine, lumbermen were hardy stock and rarely made mistakes.
“They were timber-rafting this particular, small load,” Spence told him, “and the ropes lashing the logs together on one of their rafts, gave way.”
“Not something that normally happens,” Trask added for Petula’s benefit. “These guys are pros. It must have been a rookie mistake.”
The accident didn’t sit right with Julian. Even if a newbie had been responsible for tying the tree-trunks together, a senior logger would have checked and rechecked the work. That’s just how it went.
“Okay. I’m going, too,” Julian told his brothers and Tabbi, who looked like she was also joining the operation.
He turned to Petula as the team grabbed gear and began walking it out to the van.
He took her upper arms, regretfully. “I’m sorry, but our outing will have to be postponed.
You stay here with Sheila and Jett. Okay? ”
Those two women, left to man the shop, were already on the phone calling EMS, and the appropriate police department to meet the team in the town where the rescue would take place.
Julian was determined to call it a rescue and not a recovery, at least until all emergency protocols had been exhausted and circumstances said otherwise.
“Of course it’s okay,” Petula told him. She threw herself forward, hit his chest with a thump, and wrapped her arms around him to squeeze. “Go. Find those men. Be safe.”
“I will,” he said, and with one final kiss to the top of her head, he loaded up with gear and took off after his team. “You, stay put here, okay?” he remembered to add.
“I will. Promise,” Petula told him.
Thirty-three minutes later, on a drive that would normally take forty-five, they came to a halt seeing police lights strafing the forest logging-road. A group of men, sopping wet, either sat on the shore of the river, or were busy going in and coming out of the water with dour faces.
The police were standing by. Clearly none of their small force had diving experience.
“Tell us what happened, and give us an update,” Spence barked out to the assemblage as Julian and the team unloaded gear and began to suit up.
A tall, bearded, bear of a man walked up, mopping his face with a towel. His chest was heaving as if he’d just swum a marathon. “It should have been routine,” he rasped, spitting off to the side to clear his throat. “Six men, two rafts, nothing unusual. Then one just…came apart.