Chapter 14 The Swim
The Swim
He?e: octopus
Woody was passed out on the hammock when Nalu dropped off Minnow, so she went straight to Stuart’s surfboard remnant and held
up the tooth to the bite marks. A perfect fit, as suspected. She remembered Joe’s words about the attacks two years ago and
two years before that. Could this be not only the same shark that bit Stuart and Angela but also the one involved in those
past incidents? She made a mental note to check up on those last attacks.
Next, she packed up a bottle of water and a bag of mac nuts and set out north, toward the Kiawe, in the kayak. So much was
happening and she wanted to clear her head. She was beginning to feel like she’d been called here not for any knowledge she
might possess but simply so the mayor or the state or whoever could say they had a white shark expert on hand. They’d checked
their boxes, all right.
With thick cloud cover and a gray sky, she opted to go in just her swimsuit and an old straw hat she’d found on a shelf.
Before putting it on, she inspected it well for scorpions or cane spiders or some as yet unknown vermin.
It was a habit she’d formed in Mexico and it served her well.
The coast was mostly rocky, but the ocean bottom here was shallower than to the south, with large fields of yellow and blue lobe coral and forests of finger coral.
Every now and then, she jumped off with her mask and snorkel and towed the kayak behind her.
Even in the monochromatic light, the colors of the fish and coral popped. Turquoise parrotfish, yellow and black butterfly
fish, yellow tang, even a large gold-specked moray eel, weaving among red pencil urchins and iridescent blue spiky ones. Eventually
she came to a little inlet that hid a tiny black sand beach flanked by coconut trees. From the boat she hadn’t even noticed
it. This one she would have to come back to.
At no point along the way did she get that shark feeling. Sometimes it was just a light brushstroke up her spine, others a
heavy pressing sensation. Granted, she was hugging the shoreline, but big sharks still came into shallow water. Maybe less
often, but they did. She paddled into the bay fronting the Kiawe—Papio Bay, if she recalled the name correctly—and marveled
at how idyllic it all looked. The Kiawe Roughwater Swim race started and ended right here, taking a north course and turning
around a buoy a mile up the way. The race had been held every year for the past ten years. No incidents, no shark sightings.
Lost in thought about the race and what a beautiful swim it must be, Minnow failed to notice the figure sitting in the back
of a familiar boat until she passed right by it.
“Minnow?”
She turned. It was Luke, backlit by a hazy sun.
“Oh, hey.”
She kayaked over so she was alongside him.
“You look like a woman on a mission,” he said, eyes sweeping over her skin and causing a strange warmth.
“I wanted to explore a little, and it’s easier on this than a motorboat.”
Up close, she noticed he was trying to untie a long rope with big, strong hands.
“Even better, just swim. Or are you afraid of sharks?” he said, lifting a brow.
She didn’t laugh. “Ha. You’re funny. I did swim part of the way. It was like an aquarium.”
“You should see up north. Is that where you’re headed?”
“No real plans. What about you? Are you coming or going?”
He paused, fingering the rope, as though he had to think hard about his answer. Minnow tried to get a look at his bicep, searching
for the tattoo, but it must have been on the other side.
“Just got in. I was thinking about going for a long swim,” he said, scanning the bay to the north. “Want to come?”
It almost felt as though he was testing her, and Minnow loved a good test. “Sure, let’s go.”
A wide, dazzling smile appeared on his face, dimples and all, melting something inside her. She watched as he strapped a dive
knife to his leg, grabbed a mask and snorkel, peeled off his shirt and jumped in.
“No fins?” Minnow asked, when he came up for air.
“Nah, no need.”
He dunked under again and disappeared for a time, and Minnow joined him in the water. Swimming around large predatory sharks,
she’d become accustomed to wearing fins, but if he was going finless, so would she. They swam across the bay, and the sandy
ridges beneath lit up as the sun burned through the afternoon haze. Minnow had to work to keep up with Luke, who flutter-kicked
with feet so big she understood why he didn’t need fins. Soon she fell behind and settled into her own pace.
When they reached the far point, Luke stopped and waited for her to catch up.
Minnow observed him underwater as she approached, noting his complete ease and fluidity.
As she got closer, the tattoo on his shoulder and upper arm came into view.
Red and black, it looked tribal, but it was hard to tell what it was. A fish? A whale? A shark?
When she reached him, she was breathing hard. “Are we training for the roughwater swim?”
“I am. What about you?”
“Really, you are? Is that what you’re doing here?”
As the words came out, she realized how much she hoped that that giant hook in his boat had nothing to do with sharks.
“I’ll probably do the race. Though I wouldn’t say I’m training. I would be out here even if there were no race.”
“You’re fast.”
“So are you.”
Minnow could swim for hours and hold her own against most, but Luke pierced the water like a dolphin.
“Not like you. Did you swim in college?” she asked.
“You could say that.”
“What’s up with all the vagueness?” Minnow said, swirling her legs to stay in place.
He moved closer and she could see the tiny water droplets on the tips of his lashes. “Was I being vague? Come on, we’re running
out of daylight.”
Before she knew it, he was off again, leading her along a ledge just offshore, about twenty feet high and teaming with all
forms of undersea life. He swam slower now, taking time to dive down now and then, picking up half-eaten cowrie shells or
empty urchins. Being so nimble and at home in the water could only come from a lifetime spent immersed in it, and she wondered
about his upbringing in the Pacific Northwest and how he ended up here.
Luke checked on her regularly, and she noticed how he also checked his surroundings continuously.
Subtle but attentive, which was refreshing.
Often it was Minnow having to keep an eye on those with her.
Less experienced. Less aware. Being out here felt so freeing and she wanted to just keep swimming.
Beyond the sunset, beyond the night. It had been a long time since she’d been out in the water like this with no agenda, no plan, just watching the fish—and Luke Greenwood.
He’d been right about the water this way. Shafts of late afternoon sun shot down, lighting up small patches of the ocean floor
like lasers. When they hit another large bay, this one all black sand, Luke hugged the reef and led her in. Minnow spotted
an octopus slinking along the bottom, with one leg reaching into a hole and feeling around. She watched it for a while, swimming
along slowly, when she swam right into Luke’s back.
He reached around and grabbed her arm. Instinctively, Minnow spun around, but she saw nothing unusual.
She popped her head up. “What is it?”
“I saw something big and dark move just out of visibility. Over there,” he said.
They both scanned the surface in the area he’d pointed, and a moment later she saw a distinct fin. Then another. The idea
of stumbling into sharks feeding made her hair stand up. Strange how she regularly, knowingly got in the water with giant
white sharks, but now she felt apprehension. Maybe because she was in such unfamiliar water, but also she had to admit these
attacks had rattled her some. Fear was an inherent part of the work she did.
Luke had let go of her arm, though it still hummed where he’d touched it. They were back to back now, when straight ahead,
a shadow at least twelve feet long swam back into their range. Her heart started hammering in her chest. Good thing Luke had
a knife. But the creature was wide, not long, and as its outline became clearer, she saw a wide gaping mouth and slow, graceful
wings.
“Manta ray!” they both said at the same time.
It made sense, with tiny plankton thick in the water.
The relief was palpable, and they hung there watching as the animal continued toward them, white underbelly splotched with black.
Not far behind, another one sailed along, slightly smaller but no less magnificent.
When it got to within an arm’s length of them, the manta banked and made a wide turn, heading back in the direction it came.
Take me with you, Minnow wanted to say. This is where I belong.
“How cool was that?” Luke said, eyes wide. “They’ll loop around like this for hours.”
Gone was the aloof cool guy, the vague fisherman. He was brimming with excitement, as was Minnow.
“Are they regulars out here?” she asked.
“I’ve only seen a pair in front of the Kiawe, on the point, just swimming and swooping and doing barrel rolls against me for
what felt like hours.”
Minnow wished they could stay and do the same, but the sun had dropped below the clouds, turning the horizon a burnt ochre.
“We should turn around.”
“Straight shot back. You wanna race?”
“Yeah, right.”
“Just kidding. You lead this time, though,” he said, sun reflecting in his watery eyes.
Something about the way he looked at her, as though he knew what she was thinking, threw her off-balance. She swam off without
another word, racing daylight and thankful to go at her own pace. The bite on her foot was beginning to throb, but swimming
finless could only be good for it. One beauty of ocean swims was that they healed anything and everything. Aches and pains,
worries of the day, fractured hearts.
Every now and then Luke came up alongside her, and they’d make eye contact and the okay signal. Minnow looked back out of