Chapter Six
Six
Lulu blinked away the residue of the memory.
He may have had that effect on her once, but his “I gotch-you” had turned into an “I’ll drop-you” as soon as the going got rough.
And now, the best thing for her mental health would be to let the thought pass and focus on the here and now.
Fortunately, right outside the window, there was plenty to capture her attention.
The twisty drive along the northern shoreline in Guanacaste kept her focus shifting, as Costa Rica’s wild beauty captivated Lulu.
To her left, dark waves crashed against craggy outcroppings of black volcanic rocks.
On the other side of the road, Lulu marveled at the stark liveliness of the landscape.
She gazed through the van window, her breathing slowing with wonder as she took in the low, dry hills in the distance and the broad swaths of yellow grass in the foreground.
Every once in a while, the flat fields were punctuated by the appearance of an ancient Ceiba tree, boughs spread as wide as a house, cows lounging under its shade.
The vistas grew more impressive as mile after mile the landscape shifted.
Or rather, Lulu mused, kilometer after kilometer.
As they drove through the countryside, Alejandro peppered them with information—about the country’s environmental programs, “A fuel tax pays landowners and indigenous peoples to protect and plant trees, and that helps reverse some of the effects of deforestation”; about the pacifist mentality, “Costa Rica has no standing army”; and about the thriving wildlife.
“Our country boasts nearly nine hundred species of birds. And…look. See those teardrop shapes hanging from the boughs of that Ceiba?” Out the van window, Lulu marveled at the sight.
Dangling, rounded baskets weighed down more than half of the branches.
The strange decorations looked like Dr. Seuss–style Christmas ornaments.
“Those are nests of the oropéndola bird: in English, the Golden Pendulum. Listen!” He waved for Bill to pull over to the side of the road.
And as the van slowed to search for birds, Lulu heard a lilting trill run up and down a scale.
“There!” Alejandro pointed to a brown bird the size of a fat crow.
Bright yellow plumes on the bird’s tailfeathers caught the light as the group oohed at their first real wildlife sighting.
That ululating call pierced the air again.
Then suddenly, the oropéndola plunged forward, beak first, its talons still clinging to the branch.
The movement was enough to elicit a gasp from Bill, and that was saying something.
“Look, there!” Alejandro said, and Lulu zoomed in on the spectacle with her camera.
“To attract his mate, the golden-tailed male tips forward and swings from the bough. Just like a pendulum. Sometimes, he even swings full circle around the branch. Like that!” The bird executed a sexy twirl.
Sexy for birds, at least, Lulu supposed.
“Imagine that,” Lulu observed dryly. “A bird showing off to attract attention.”
“A bird that’s into swinging? Spicy!” Gwendy added, her robust voice brimming with zing. “Right, Bill?”
For his part, Bill released the parking brake and pulled back onto the road.
Tyler lifted his hand in the air. “I have a question,” and Alejandro pointed to call on him. “I was wondering if we are going to be seeing any peccaries on this tour.”
“Ah,” Alejandro said, “the elusive peccary. Costa Rica’s wild pig. I hope we can find you one, Mr. Demming. I’ll be on the lookout.”
“Please. Call me Tyler.”
Lulu’s eyes lifted to the van’s ceiling, and she worked overtime to keep her mouth shut. She had an idea where Tyler could find a wild pig. Just take a peek in any shiny, reflective surface.
“So, let’s get into some logistics,” Alejandro said, gathering the group’s focus. “We’ll go from town to town, driving a few hours between sites, hitting some of the most popular tourist spots. But also, we’ll take some side trips off the beaten path…where we’ll find some spontaneous adventures.”
Lulu swallowed her nerves. She wasn’t averse to spontaneity. She was all for impulsive activities. As long as she knew about them well in advance.
Alejandro continued. “We have several stops planned at pickleball hotspots around the country. And I can’t tell you how excited we are to have The Rocket along on our journey.”
Tyler lifted a hand to his chest and bowed his head. “Thanks. Thank you so much for inviting me. It’s an honor.”
Tyler turned his head and smiled at Lulu.
As if she had anything to do with inviting him!
Seriously. Didn’t anyone else think he was overplaying it?
How had she even tolerated his ego when they were together?
Once, when the high school hosted a tennis picnic for both the boys’ and girls’ teams, she and Tyler partnered in a mixed doubles match.
Tyler poached shot after shot that were clearly hers.
His grandstanding moved him so out of position that they lost the match by a mile.
If there was ever an over-player, it was Tyler Demming.
As the van turned off the main road, Alejandro announced, “We’re going to stop here for some pickleball and lunch.” Lulu put her inner vendetta on pause to dig through her backpack for her sunscreen.
“You sure got a lotta crap in that bag,” Gwendy said.
Lulu straightened. “Ten essentials,” she clarified. “If there’s an emergency, I’ll be ready.”
Peering into Lulu’s bag, Gwendy noted, “Raincoat. First aid kit. Waterproof matches. What’s the pen and paper for?”
Lulu shrugged at the obvious. “Write a note if there’s no cell coverage. I could write where I’m headed. Put it under a rock or tack it to a tree to say where I went off trail.”
Gwendy nodded soberly. “Or lay it on top of your dehydrated body.” She mimed penning a note. “Sorry you missed me.”
Lulu was accustomed to such reactions. Hardly anybody understood the value of good preparation as well as Lulu.
Rummaging through her pack, she hurried to find her sunglasses, chugged half a bottle of water to hydrate, and applied sunscreen liberally, remembering the oft-overlooked tops of her ears.
The rest of the group peered out the windows at the lovely scenery.
“This village holds a special place in my heart. I grew up here before I moved to the big city.” Alejandro beamed at the familiar landscape.
He explained that the town founders recognized the land as a perfect spot nestled between the river and the Turrialba Volcano.
The town claimed its name after someone noticed the X’s carved into an ancient tree trunk.
“It’s called Tres Equis, meaning three X’s. ”
“I have three exes,” Gwendy murmured. Her daughter, Ariana, sighed theatrically. But Gwendy was, Lulu had to admit, a bit of a kick.
The entire town could be seen with one grand sweep of the eye.
The main street boasted a quaint restaurant, the two school buildings, and a road that branched off toward the church.
Peeking behind the neat homes as they passed, Lulu spotted cows and sheep and chickens.
Lime trees, or could those be green oranges?
And field after field planted with low beds of greenery.
“Cilantro,” Alejandro said. “And that,” the guide said, indicating the low, gray volcano in the distance, “is Turrialba. Look carefully, and you can see the ash puffing from the top.”
Lulu glanced at Alejandro, her attention perking up. “Is there a chance it will erupt?”
As casually as if he were talking about the weather, Alejandro commented, “It erupts all the time.”
“Ha! You said, ‘erupts all the time.’ ” Gwendy snickered. “That’s too easy. I’m not gonna touch that.”
“Ha!” Tyler added. “You said, ‘not gonna touch that.’ ” And to Lulu’s annoyance, Gwendy and the picklepro high-fived right there in the van.
Ariana glared and muttered something in Spanish.
“I heard that!” Gwendy quipped. Lulu had hit Spanish hard in high school, but her skills had lapsed from disuse.
Now, she put another goal into her comfort-zone challenge.
She would give her Spanish a whirl when the opportunity arose.
And hopefully, the boost she got from understanding another language would return to her little by little, poco a poco.
They drove through the town’s one stoplight and into a gravel lot behind the community gym.
As they piled out of the van onto the pickleball courts, Lulu spotted a host of locals from ages ten to eighty.
Alejandro’s pride in his community was matched in the faces of his acquaintances, who clapped him on the back when he joined them in organizing the temporary nets and chalked lines that formed the pickleball courts.
Lulu lifted a heavy net bag out of the van, and Tyler held out his hand in an offer to carry it.
“I got it,” Lulu said.
“I know you do. I’m just offering. Here, Alejandro.” He gestured to the guide. “Let me carry yours, instead.” Happily, Alejandro handed over the bulky bag. Yep. She probably should have just let him carry it.
As Tyler set up nets and greeted the players, he paused mid-effort to scan the courts. Finding Ariana with her camera poised, Tyler flashed a winning smile in her direction, seemingly unfamiliar with the concept of “candid.”
Alejandro passed out paddles to each of them from a plastic container in the back of the van.
Ariana was also new to pickleball, and she and Lulu stretched and warmed up together, putting short dinks in the no-volley zone: the kitchen, as Lulu remembered to call it, pleased to be picking up the pickleball lingo.
When Ariana skipped off to chase a rogue ball, Lulu’s attention wandered around the courts. Her gaze landed on Tyler. She stared, unthinkingly absorbed, while the hunky pro slathered sunscreen on his muscled, tattooed arms and his taut picklecalves.