Chapter Seven Tula
Chapter Seven
Tula
Outer Banks, North Carolina
I arrived at the rental condo, carrying a basket of folded, freshly cleaned towels and hand cloths. The scent of pine drifted around me as I waited for the renter to answer the door.
The door opened to a tall guy with tanned skin and dark hair that skimmed his wide shoulders. I was smiling even before I raised my gaze because that was business 101. You mess up, you be nice.
My gaze rose over flip-flops, board shorts, and a black T-shirt.
His dark hair was tinged with strands of silver, and even the curiosity darkening his eyes didn’t register.
Time, context, whatever, wasn’t syncing.
And then the past drew back like the tide, and I saw familiarity in blue eyes that even seven years hadn’t changed.
“Nathan.” I clutched the towels, holding on to them as if they were armor. “Wow. How are you?”
Nathan Rogan had interned with my mother when we were in Greece, and he’d followed us to the United States to dive the Oceanus.
He was an excellent diver and was a wizard with maps that charted the ocean surface and bottom.
He’d mapped the entire area around the Oceanus for Mom.
Because of him, Mom knew where the large hole had punctured the vessel’s hull.
She knew the boat lay on its port side, and one of its two smokestacks had cracked and drifted two hundred yards south.
The plan had been for Nathan to dive with Mom that last day.
He was going to be her eyes and ears and the lone voice of reason Mom would accept.
But that day, Nathan had broken his arm somehow.
He’d called Mom from the emergency room and told her he couldn’t come and to wait.
But Mom was impatient to see the wreck that day, so she drafted me as her dive buddy, allowing me to skip school.
I was thrilled. We’d dived hundreds of times before, and neither of us worried about the last-minute switch.
That was another small link in a string of missteps that would matter a great deal later.
“I’m great.” His voice was deeper than I remembered, with hints of gravel. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Just arrived today. I’m working with Kaitlin.” I held up my bundle as proof. “I’m here to bring you towels.”
My face warmed as he stared at me. Shit. When we’d met, I was sixteen and he was twenty-two. God, I had such an intense crush on him. But he always kept things so professional. He might joke or kid around, but he never reacted to my awkward flirting.
Back then, I was tanned, fit, and so confident.
And now here I stood. No makeup. Covered in sweat.
And sporting an extra ten, maybe fifteen pounds that had settled on my ass.
How far the mighty have fallen. It was the lone Bible verse my mom would quote when someone—mostly me—got a little too full of herself.
I handed him the towels. “Good to see you.”
“And you. You here for good?”
“No. Just for the summer.” Here could never be home. I hadn’t forgiven this place for taking Mom. “Helping Kaitlin and cleaning and clearing out a house in Southern Shores for my company. And then, who knows?”
He grimaced. “Back to the city and a cubicle and the husband?”
His teasing shifted me to defense. “Maybe to the cubicle. Divorced the husband.”
Nathan’s grin widened. “I never pictured you in an office.”
No more mention of Dave, which was just as well. I said sarcastically, “And yet, I make my living in an office.” I was a coward. I’d traded the ocean I loved for the land. “Again, sorry about the towels.”
As I turned, Nathan said, “Hey, I’m glad I saw you. I want you to hear this from me first.”
The last person who had said those words to me had been a coworker who’d reported she’d seen my soon-to-be ex-husband sucking face with his new administrative assistant in a darkened restaurant booth. I heaved the edges of my lips into a smile and faced him. “What’s that?”
“I’m going to be diving the Oceanus.”
The ground shifted as if I were on the deck of a rolling ship. “Really?”
“I hated the way it ended. I want to spend time with her and see if she has any more secrets.”
The Oceanus had more to her story, but I still hadn’t decided whether I wanted to know it. Annoyance long buried deep swam to the surface. “How it ended? An understatement, I think.”
He stabbed long fingers through his hair. “It always bothered me that I didn’t dive with Mariah that day. I would’ve dragged her to the surface.”
Nathan was right. Mom would’ve listened to him. But hearing it from him felt like salt water on a wound. “I get it. She didn’t listen to me. I should’ve tried harder.”
“You had a soft spot for her. And she could talk you into all kinds of crazy adventures. That’s natural.
She was your mother, and she loved you. But I’d have grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the surface.
No one survives without air or in a storm like the one that swept up the coast that day. ”
Weather forecasters had eventually classified that storm as a nor’easter. Arriving in May, it was late for the season, but its tardiness didn’t weaken its impact. Winds had reached forty miles an hour. Mom was so convinced the storm wouldn’t materialize.
The seas were still relatively smooth as we motored north. Mom was moody but optimistic. She was never happier than when she was preparing to dive a wreck. And her enthusiasm was measured. She’d always been blessed when it came to the water, and reliance on luck was the first major mistake.
We’d dropped anchor at the wreck’s coordinates. I kept glancing at the few clouds gathering to the north. She told me not to worry. And then we jumped into the water, and the ocean pulled us under.
The final mistake was mine. I’d assumed Mom would follow me when I’d signaled her to rise. I believed she’d have the sense to leave the wreck, knowing we’d return another day.
After, Nathan had called me several times, but I let it all go to voicemail. He’d left the Outer Banks by July, and that was that.
I cleared my throat. “Why dive here now?” I asked.
“I applied for a grant to explore the Oceanus and received it.”
Imagine that we’d end up here at the same time.
“I tried to write you a dozen times, but I never knew what to say,” he said.
“Not much you could say.”
“You’re wearing her coin,” he said.
“I found it in my mother’s suitcase after. She left it for me.”
“Why did she leave it?”
“I don’t know. Why do you want to dive the Oceanus again? She’s cursed, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Cursed? You sound like a true sailor.”
“Still think the gold is there?”
A frown deepened the lines bracketing his mouth. “It was never about the gold for me.”
“It was for Mom. She said it could be her big payday.”
“Do you really believe that? She’d never dived for treasure before.”
Mom’s shift toward money was an odd change, but I hadn’t questioned her. “She was then.”
“Not me. I just want to see the wreck. It’ll help me make peace with it all. And I’m making a film.”
He had a YouTube channel with over a million followers. His videos received hundreds of thousands of views, proof that people liked his adventures. Monetization of the channel had to pay a few bills. I’d watched his channel over the years when I’d had too much to drink or was feeling nostalgic.
“You found a way to drive up those clicks?”
“No one is going to get rich off these dives.”
I shook my head, wondering why I was getting into this with him.
“Mom was so far in debt when she died. She thought the gold would solve all her problems.” I was a minor, so no one had told me how deep the debt ran until after she’d died.
I wasn’t held responsible for her bills, but she’d left nothing behind of value.
Absently, I fingered the coin and sea-glass necklace. “All I inherited from Mom was PTSD and an irrational fear of the ocean.”
“You used to love it. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was great until it wasn’t.
Life goes on.” I took a step back. I thought I could return to the beach and clean out that house without any emotional consequences.
But I found myself swimming in deep waters.
No amount of steady breathing or meditation would fix what was churning inside me.
“I didn’t mean to blindside you,” Nathan said. “But I’m glad you heard about the dives from me.”
“I appreciate that.” The muscles in my chest pulled, making a deep breath hard.
It had been a while since I’d had a full-blown panic attack.
And I didn’t want to have one in front of Nathan.
Please, just give me a little dignity. Let me walk away without breaking down.
“Call Kaitlin if you need any supplies or are having trouble with the house.”
“Everything is great.” He held up the towels slightly as if to prove his statement.
“Terrific.”
I turned and walked toward my car. I didn’t look back, because I knew his expression remained a mixture of sadness and expectation.
With each step, my muscles twisted tighter. My breathing grew more deliberate. Being this close to the ocean and now Nathan was testing all my therapist’s positive mantras.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Behind the wheel of the car, I started the engine and backed out of the driveway toward the beach road.
A horn blared and a car zoomed past me. I slammed on the brakes and gripped the wheel, triple-checked the road, and pulled out.
My vision was narrow, and tension rippled over my body.
I drove to the surf shop at thirty miles an hour, fearful I’d implode.
When I pulled into the parking lot, the building was dark. Good. Everyone was gone. I hefted my suitcase and climbed the back staircase.
The evening air was warm and the breeze gentle. When I reached the second floor, I could see over the cottages to the beach road by the ocean. My stomach tumbled. The damn water was everywhere.
Kaitlin’s apartment upstairs had two bedrooms, with a central living room and kitchen.
The couch was long, its olive green tweed obscured by several brightly colored quilts.
The coffee table was a reclaimed door, filled with shells covered in a polymer.
Surfing magazines were strewn across the table.
Four colorful, scratched, and well-used surfboards hung from hooks on the walls. Kaitlin adored surfing.
My purse dropped to the grass-colored carpet, and I sat on the sofa. Dipping my head back, I stared at the ceiling, painted with waves. I drew in a partial breath. And then another and another. Finally, the pressure eased. My muscles still ached, but they no longer cramped.
I fished my phone from my pocket and found the few images I had of Mom and me. In all the pictures, we were standing by a body of water. The South Pacific. The Mediterranean Sea. The Black Sea. Tanned bodies. Swimsuits. Scuba gear.
There were no baby pictures of me. Mom had said she’d taken a few with an old camera but had lost track of them over our many moves. The reality was she’d been working long hours when I was little, and collecting memories was an afterthought.
The first picture of me was on my sixth birthday.
It was taken in Fiji. Mom and I were diving an Australian freighter wreck called the David J.
Magnus. Mom had just argued with another dive instructor over air tanks, and tension edged her smile.
The next image was taken five years later.
We were off the coast of Italy. Mom was a paid guide, and we were diving a Roman ship that had sunk two thousand years ago.
By eleven I was working on the dive boat, helping the customers with their gear.
And the last photo was here on the Outer Banks.
We hadn’t dived the Oceanus yet, but we’d boated out to the dive spot.
The water was calm and the sky a crystal blue.
Mom had slung her arm around me, and we were laughing. Nathan had taken the picture.
Our years together boiled down to a few captured moments, my necklace, and the ocean. Why hadn’t either Mom or I tried harder to record our lives more?
“We were a sad little duo, you and I.”
Maybe Mom’s detachment had been what had driven Dad off. My talent for distance had tanked my marriage.
The door opened to Kaitlin with a couple of bags of groceries. “How did it go?”
“Towels dropped off.” I closed the phone and rose. “Did you know the guy renting was Nathan Rogan?”
She set the bags on the narrow aqua counter. “Maybe.”
“And you didn’t think to give me a heads-up?”
As she shrugged, a strand of hair fell forward. “Either way, the towels needed to be delivered.”
“And I would’ve done the job either way.”
She pulled out a bag of apples and a jar of almond butter from the refrigerator. “Would you?”
“I would have.”
Her brow rose. “Tell me the truth.”
“Okay. I’d have dropped them on his porch, rung the bell, and run.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“What aren’t I afraid of?”
She tilted her head to the side. “One way or another, you needed to bite the bullet and talk to him. Now you have seen him, so it’ll be fine. If you run into him, it won’t be as weird.”
“I almost had a panic attack on the way home.”
“Almost? That’s positive, right?”
“It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible.”
She fished bread from the bag. “Do you admit it was a little progress?”
“It’s not saying much when I can brag about not screaming and falling into the fetal position.”
“I disagree. Being here is good for you.”
“He’s diving the Oceanus. He received a grant kind of out of the blue.”
Kaitlin drew in a breath. “I know.”
“How did you know this?”
“We’ve traded texts over the years.”
“He’s filming this trip.”
“Good. It could help.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? You took the job to clean out the house of a guy who might be an Oceanus buff.” She sliced an apple into quarters. “Maybe this is your chance to make peace with the shipwreck that ruined your life.”