Chapter Eleven Tula #2
“Wow.” I smoothed my hand over the dusty desk and wondered what it would be like to live such a long life. “Even I can see this is a nice place. Has a lot of character.”
“And it’ll sell for a good price, despite all the reno work that needs to be done.”
“I hope the new owners don’t change too much. Maybe whitewash the wood paneling and add a bright color outside.”
Kaitlin laughed. “I’ve never known you to get attached to anything down here.”
I shrugged. “Don’t get used to it. I’m only here for the summer.”
“I’ll help you deep-clean a bedroom and bathroom. Then you’ll have a clean start.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She wiggled her fingers. “Many hands make light the work.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the help.”
We opted to divide and conquer the housework, as we had before. I stripped the bedding on the double bed and shoved it into an old washer. “No dryer.”
“There’s a clothesline outside,” Kaitlin said. “You wanted vintage, and you got it. There’s laundry soap in the van.”
At the van, she grabbed a mop bucket while I unloaded soaps and rags.
Inside the house, I opened the windows, the wooden hurricane shutters, and the front and back doors. Fresh air immediately tunneled through the house as if it had just taken a full breath.
Kaitlin flipped on the breakers and then cleaned the bathroom, which was in decent shape, while I wiped down the bedroom.
I mopped the floor in the bedroom and quickly washed the kitchen counters.
Soon, wet sheets draped over the clothesline and flapped in an ocean breeze.
The hot sun and wind would dry them out within hours.
It was nearly five when we’d finished our tasks. I closed up the house and locked the front door.
The sharp anger always directed at Mom, the Outer Banks, and the Oceanus had faded to a dull ache.
I no longer saw all my mom’s faults, but I recognized the good she’d done.
She’d shown me the world, given me life skills few kids had, and taught me how to be independent.
She hadn’t been perfect, but neither was I.
We both crossed to the van. Kaitlin started the engine, which rattled to life.
The air-conditioning felt good against my sweaty skin.
I lifted my shirt and leaned in to the vent.
I didn’t know anyone who’d known Mom when we were here, beyond a few sailors we’d spoken to in passing.
But there had to be someone who’d known her.
“The dinner crowds will hit soon. Want to grab a quick burger and celebrate your first full day?”
“You have time before camp?”
“I do.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Arthur’s has great burgers. And it’s on the sound side of the beach road.”
“Perfect. Shouldn’t we shower?”
“We can wash our hands and faces in the diner’s ladies’ room. This place is the spot for local contractors. Everyone is wearing their day’s grime. Not many tourists until later.”
“Sounds good.”
We parked in front of a two-story wood building with upstairs and downstairs porch seating. The tables and chairs were painted in aqua and white, and colorful strips of fabric dangled from the porch roof.
“What’s with the fabric?” I followed her up the stairs.
“Supposed to catch bad spirits,” she said.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
Inside, the cool air brushed my salty skin.
Kaitlin and I made a beeline for the restroom.
Kaitlin peed, washed her hands quickly, and was reaching for the door while I was still splashing cool water on my face.
By the time I’d dried my face and hands, combed my fingers through my hair, and secured it back in a ponytail, Kaitlin had already gotten a table and two beers.
“I see a friend,” Kaitlin said. “Let me say hi quickly.”
“Will do.” I saddled up on a stool and took a long sip of beer. The salty barley flavor was about the best I’d ever tasted. I huffed out a breath and relaxed. This place wasn’t my home or my permanent anything, but it felt good to be here.
“Tula.”
The deep voice drew me to Nathan, standing there with a cold soda. He was wearing a dark blue T-shirt, board shorts, and flip-flops. His sun-streaked brown hair was wet and brushed off his face. “What brings you here?”
“Taking a break after work. Kaitlin will be right here.”
He sat on the barstool next to me as if we hadn’t missed a beat in the last seven years. He looked me over. “Rough day?”
I guess I really should have stopped at the apartment and taken that shower. “Kaitlin says our projects averaged a five on a scale of one to ten.”
His smile was dazzling. And there was an edge of humor in his deep tones. “I’d hate to see you after a ten.”
My chin lifted. “Me too.”
“Far cry from office work?” he asked.
I sipped my beer. “Very different. My back might have more comments to make tomorrow. But all in all, better than moving papers from one end of the desk to the other.”
“You’ll get used to the manual work. Give your body a chance to adapt.”
Once I had been very strong, so I knew he was right. “You look like you’ve been in the water.”
Hair curled against the nape of his neck. “I took a group of tourists out to dive.”
“I thought you were here for the Oceanus.”
“I am, but as you know, bills don’t care about dreams.”
I laughed. “That’s very true.”
Many guys at the law firm wouldn’t admit they didn’t have money. Most were spread thin and relied on credit cards for their expensive watches and suits.
But not Nathan. He had never lived large or beyond his financial means. His reputation as a diver was more important to him. I remembered him saying once that life was what it was. Good times came with leaner ones. No sense pretending otherwise.
Kaitlin walked up to the table and sat across from Nathan. “I thought we might see you here. How did the dive go?”
“All the students had some experience, so it wasn’t bad. Didn’t lose anyone. No injuries. So, all good.”
“How do you find your students?” I asked.
“Just like your mom used to. I let the local hotels know I’m coming and offer to partner with them. I also let everyone know I’m giving wreck tours. Not everyone says yes to my services, but enough do so I can pay the bills and fund the real interesting dives.”
“You sound like Mom,” I said. “She never worried. Said ‘Brink’s trucks don’t follow hearses.’”
Again, that easy, cool smile. “She was a wise woman in many ways.”
And in others, not so smart. She’d had a temper, and when someone questioned her diving skills, she always stood her ground, ready to burn bridges to make a point.
“So, you’re a traveling teacher and documentary filmmaker?” I asked.
“That about sums it up.”
“Weren’t you in the Caribbean?” Kaitlin asked.
“Over the winter.”
“You look thinner in person,” she said.
He was so fit, it made me feel five pounds heavier than this morning.
Nathan laughed. “I get my share of comments online about my weight. Too many holiday desserts and someone comments.”
“They do not,” I said.
“The cyber-world is harsh, Tula,” he said.
Kaitlin set her beer down. “When do you dive the Oceanus?”
“First dive is this Friday morning. You both are invited to come. I can always use the extra hand with the divers.”
“I’ve got paperwork,” Kaitlin said.
“And I have an old house to clear out,” I said.
“Come on, Tula, you should come,” he coaxed. “You can reacquaint yourself with the ocean.”
My palms sweat a little. “I don’t think so.”
“Your fears can’t be that bad,” he said easily.
“Believe me, they are.”
“We could work on that. Practice makes perfect.” The words sounded genuine, inviting.
I pictured the murky waters offshore and the shadows of a wreck coming into view. A dull dread, always with me, sharpened. “Right.”