Chapter Nineteen Tula
Chapter Nineteen
Tula
I slept badly again last night. I dreamed of fighting through water up toward the surface, where the sun glistened. The ocean was all around me, clawing at my limbs, pulling me back down to the bottom.
Stay with me, the waters whispered. Stay with me forever.
I kicked and flailed and, finally, I burst through choppy waves. My chest heaved as I sucked in air.
Slowly the fear passed, and I realized I was on dry land. I was safe. The drip-drip of water in the bathroom sink echoed in the house. The pipes would require a plumber, but that was a problem for the next homeowner. The ordinary thought was oddly grounding.
Out of the bed, I grabbed my phone and walked to the kitchen, my oversize T-shirt brushing my thighs. At the sink, I rested my face in my hands, then turned on the coffee percolator. Today was the day. Today I’d go out on the boat with Nathan.
My phone dinged with a text from Kaitlin. How u doing?
She knew I was an early riser. If I could back out, I would.
Kaitlin: You’re an adult. You can go or not go. If you want to back out, then do it.
The ocean roared beyond the dunes. It was teasing me. Daring me to quit.
Me: No.
Kaitlin: Stubborn.
Me: Greatest asset. And weakness.
Kaitlin: You can change anything.
The percolator hissed as it heated, and I flexed stiff fingers.
Me: I need to do this.
Kaitlin: I know I’ve been pressing you, but you got nothing to prove.
Me: I do.
Kaitlin: That’s the old Tula.
I was glad I didn’t have to look her in the eye. She’d see the fear in my gaze.
Me: The Oceanus is just a lump of scrap metal in water. And the ocean can’t stalk me forever. Neither has power.
Kaitlin: The power is in you.
No, it was lurking off the coast.
Me: Right. Stay tuned. I’ve got to get dressed.
The percolator was painfully slow, so I dashed to my bedroom and rooted through drawers, searching for my swimsuit.
Finally, I found it under jeans, and I dressed in a swimsuit, board shorts, and a T-shirt.
My flip-flops weren’t by the front door, which cost me five more minutes.
They were under the sofa. “Are you hiding my stuff?” I asked the house.
I grabbed my backpack and packed snacks, a towel, and a change of clothes.
As the sun rose over the ocean, I poured my first cup of coffee. Cradling the mug, I stepped outside to the patio and climbed to the deck on the dunes. The sky was a vivid blue, the air warm and thick with humidity.
I walked down the stairs over the dunes. On the beach, the sand sank between my toes as I walked toward the surf. A wave rushed toward me, stopping five inches short. I tipped my face toward the sun. “So beautiful. So dangerous.”
I drank my coffee, watching as more waves crashed. Finally, I turned back toward the dunes and the house. As I closed and locked the back door, a truck engine rumbled in the driveway. Through the window, I saw Nathan’s truck.
He slid out of the truck with ease. He wore shorts, a dark blue T-shirt, and flip-flops. I doubted the man had ever worn a suit. He knocked on the front door.
I opened it, realizing I was slightly excited to see him. “You’ve come all this way. Would you like the grand tour?”
“Yes, and if that’s coffee I smell, I’ll take a cup.”
“Sure.”
He stepped inside, his gaze scanning the small time capsule home. The linens, books, and boxes of papers remained stacked in the center. “How goes the clean-out process?”
“It’s getting there.” I walked toward the kitchen, retrieved a stoneware mug, filled it with coffee, and brought it to him. “As you can see, I’ve got a lot to sort through.”
He picked up a hardback book and studied the spine before looking at the collection. “Dr. Brooks was a history buff. Half is medieval; the rest is World War II.”
“I think he was an everything buff,” I said. “These books cover subjects from history to science to philosophy.”
“Can I see out the back?”
“Sure.” I led him to the back door, across the patio, and to the perch.
He sipped his coffee. “Stunning view.”
“I know. I remind myself how many people would love to enjoy this view.”
He nodded. “Hard to go back to a cubicle after this?”
The office felt like a lifetime ago. “The ocean is very seductive.”
He drew in a deep breath. “It has my heart.”
That was true. I wasn’t sure if there was anything he’d love more than the water. My mother had been like that.
“Ready to get to the boat?” he asked.
“Super excited.” My dull tone belied my words.
The wind teased his dark hair as he grinned. “It’ll be fun.”
I locked the back door and grabbed my backpack as he took a gulp of coffee. “Keep it,” I said.
“Thanks. Really good coffee.”
I unplugged the percolator. “Ancient brewing method. Great if you’ve got the time.”
“The wait was worth it.”
Outside, I locked the door and pocketed the keys. I tossed my backpack into the back of his truck and climbed into the passenger seat.
How many times had we been in this spot? An early call, headed out to dive a wreck off Greece. Oddly, we’d never dived the Oceanus together.
“Such a full-circle moment,” I said.
“I was thinking the same. If your mom was here, it would be perfect.”
“I’m sure she has a hand in this. I think I can feel her staring at us.”
“She was always watching us.” He pulled out onto the beach road and headed south. “Never fully trusted me.”
“Ha! And you were always a gentleman.”
“Because your mom would have skinned me alive if I wasn’t. All the men on the boats we sailed feared your mom.”
As we drove south, I looked left toward the rising sun over the ocean. How many peaceful moments like this had I missed in the last seven years?
“Did my mom ever talk about living in this area before I was born?” I asked.
“She never said anything to me.”
“I found a picture with Mom and Kaitlin’s parents. It dates to a few years before I was born. Kaitlin doesn’t know anything, and her mother never said a word to me when I lived with them.”
“Why the big secret?”
“I’m not sure why Carol never mentioned it.”
“You ever ask your mother about her family?”
“A few times. She insisted it was just the two of us. Said her father had died a long time ago. I do know he was a merchant marine and sailed out of Norfolk.”
“Really?”
“The ocean had a hook in all of us.”
The truck rumbled through Southern Shores and then to the bypass. “I read the first fifty pages of the manuscript. It really personalizes some of the passengers and crew.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s good. The passengers tend to get forgotten. Keep me posted.”
“For the film?”
“Yeah. And I want to figure what hold that ship had on your mother.”
“She was so determined to see it.”
Silent, he nodded.
After a half hour of driving south on the bypass and chatting about his latest dive spots, we veered west toward the small village of Wanchese and pulled into the parking lot next to a pier with a dozen boat docks.
“How many people are diving today?” I asked.
“Four. All have had some dive experience. The day is perfect and the ocean calm.”
But he didn’t say there was nothing to worry about. That was bad luck. Like any good man who made his living on the waters, he didn’t tempt the ocean’s goodwill.
Four people were gathered near the walkway.
Nathan got out of the van and strode toward them. “This the crew for the Oceanus?”
Everyone nodded. As I walked toward the group, Nathan pulled out a list from his back pocket and called out the names of the people gathered around.
He shook hands and checked IDs. The ages of the group ranged from mid-thirties to early sixties.
Judging by their suntans (and burns), I guessed this was the last day of vacation for many.
This dive would be the finale of their beach getaway.
Mom and I had taken out groups like this.
She didn’t have much patience with newbies, but newbies paid the bills.
So, she’d left the sweet-talking and smiling to me.
She was all technique, while I listened to expectations and fears.
Mom’s newbie outings always began with a dive in a local pool, and once she was sure everyone could really operate the equipment, we’d head to the ocean.
On land, most didn’t reach out to fifteen-year-old Tula for tech support.
But once we’d dropped anchor, I’d field many last-minute queries.
By the end of our outings, no one thought twice about asking me questions.
Nathan came up to me. “Help me with the gear. You take the cooler, and I’ll bring the tanks.”
“Sure.”
I grabbed the handle of the white cooler and tipped it onto its back wheels.
I pulled, thinking it would be easy, but I quickly realized the weight was far heftier than cleaning supplies and boxes of files.
Gritting my teeth, I dragged the cooler over the gravel to the pier gate.
Nathan set down two tanks, unlocked the gate padlock, and swung the door open.
“Can you lead the group to the white boat at the end of the dock?” Nathan asked. “It’s the Intrepid.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” He jogged back to the truck and grabbed two more tanks.
“Everyone, follow me,” I said.
The divers were quiet as they followed me and the cooler down the pier. The Intrepid was a midsize boat outfitted with a small cabin and a dive platform. She looked sturdy. If Nathan handled his dives like Mom had, this was a short-term rental.
“Load your gear on the boat,” I said.
I looked at the cooler, too heavy for me to lift.
“You need a hand?” The question came from a tall guy with dark hair. “Tony Spagnolo.”
“Tula Cassidy. If you could put the cooler on the boat, that would be great. I’ll grab the tanks.”
“Will do.”
I jogged back to the gate and hefted two tanks. Several times, I paused and readjusted my grip. I half walked and half waddled down the dock toward the Intrepid as the other divers assembled on the boat. When I arrived, I was winded, my arm muscles strained.