WITH WYATT NEXT to him, Jerrod moved slowly through the water, adjusting the video camera and getting the shots he wanted. Small fish he didn’t recognize and a school of whitefish darted around the propeller and in and out of a piece of the intact bow. Not many other complete structures were evident in the wreck of the Franklin Stone. Freshwater diving would take some getting used to, Jerrod thought.
He’d done a lot of it earlier in his life, even a short stint as a contract diver for police departments in counties on Lake Erie and for the public works department in Milwaukee. But it had been a while since he adjusted to the difference in buoyancy in freshwater.
Wyatt directed his attention to a dense cluster of zebra mussels, a reality he and his guests would see. He first knew about them when they appeared in Lake Erie and for a time some seemed to be part of Mother Nature’s grand cleanup crew, even making freshwater clearer. A deceptive view, for sure, because these mussels drove out other species, including birds. In truth, their presence was a threat to all the Great Lakes. Part of a diving company’s job involved talking about these problems.
He and Wyatt moved around the propeller as he kept filming. He’d never planned to talk about the ecology of the lake as part of his dives or tours, any more than he and Augusta intended to make their tropical dives a lesson on the fragility of reefs. But realities changed and the presence of the zebra mussels made it impossible to avoid the subject, if for no other reason than their presence had made the shipwrecks themselves harder to view. Some random wooden sections of the ship that hadn’t burned were hidden under mounds of mussels.
Jerrod had any number of wrecks to choose from, but there was something spectacular about the 280-foot Franklin Stone as a ship to visit. In some ways it had an ordinary life. When it sank off the shore of Two Moon Bay in 1913, it was carrying 2,500 tons of coal to Sheboygan. The fact it was just one more ship doing its work was exactly what he wanted to convey to the divers. Even being lost in a fire wasn’t unusual. A crew of nineteen managed to climb into lifeboats and row away toward the shore unharmed. Not unheard of, maybe, but it was a stroke of luck, the likes of which sailors pray for.
The bottom was flat where the remains of the ship rested, which was an advantage when taking divers out to it. It was one of the reasons Franklin Stone had made the final cut of his options. For one thing, the relatively concentrated space made it easier to keep track of his divers, who would use their fins to move through relatively clear water to see the steam engine and still-attached ten-foot propeller sitting on the bottom where it landed over one hundred years ago. Every hard surface was covered with mussels—zebras and quaggas. They loved hard surfaces like flies loved honey.
The conversation he’d had with Gordon came back to him. The boy had said he might want to be a marine biologist, so he most likely knew all about these invaders. He made a mental note to mention them to Dawn and ask her about bringing up in interviews the mounds of data about the rapid spread of these unwelcome guests. Her answer would likely be no. He could almost hear her reminding him that there were plenty of local experts to book for speeches or panels about the ecological threats to Lake Michigan. But he still wanted to run his idea by her. In such a short time she’d become a voice inside his head. Amazing.
He went back to focusing on the site, studying the bottom for items, like anchors and even the giant bolts that held the vessel together. The wreck was a doorway to the past. For as long as he could remember, diving deep into the water and using all the modern equipment to adapt to the foreign environment was like going to live in another world. In some ways it might as well be Mars. The diving gear was like a spacesuit, the underwater world fragile, always changing. He and Wyatt were just tourists that day.
Dawn had used the word ambassador to characterize the kind of guide he’d always wanted to be—and that had led to his success in the past. Sometimes Jerrod believed he was speaking for the lake itself in the way he described the treasures silently waiting to be discovered in the sometimes harsh conditions underwater. Most people will never know what it’s like to be submerged in even twenty or thirty feet in any body of water. Yes, he was lucky. As Dawn suggested, he’d write about it in his new blog.
Signaling Wyatt, he drew her attention to how the engine sat straight as if it had been purposely dropped into place. Responding with a yes sign, he was satisfied she’d noted the position of the wreck. The fire had made the wooden sides of the ship collapse. So the intact engine sat among the scattered pieces of the hull. Two anchors had drifted to the edges of the site.
When they explained the wreck to the guests, they’d point out that the ship burned so fast it sank at that straight angle, not like the bow or stern first like the dramatic depiction of a sinking most people saw in the movies. And the surviving engine and boilers would likely be unmoved for a century or two more. Pieces of coal were spread on the bottom of the site, thinning out as they moved farther away from the center.
On his day tour, he could tell the stories of attempts to salvage the coal even years after the fact. Jerrod’s granddad had told him many tales about the guys who’d take a chance and claim ownership of whatever they could bring to the surface.
He raised his thumb, signaling it was time to end the dive. Together, he and Wyatt began their slow ascent. No rushing to reach the surface. They climbed onto Wind Spray’s stern, and took off their tanks and weight belts, the fins and hoods and other equipment as Rob steered the boat back to the marina. Once the lines were secured and their dry suits and gear taken care of, he and Wyatt went into the office. Jerrod ordered a large everything pizza for their lunch.
“It should be here in forty-five minutes,” Jerrod said.
“Let’s see how the video turned out,” Rob suggested. “I want to know what to expect when we go out again. Anything new we need to add to what we tell people on the day tour?”
Wyatt pointed at the poster hanging behind Jerrod. “It’s one thing to know the Franklin Stone was in flames when it went down. The painting tells that story. It’s another thing to see the wooden hull in pieces but the engine sitting on the bottom upright. There’s also something about those nineteen men getting to shore safely.”
“True,” Jerrod said, “and it’s an important part of the story to tell our divers. Then we can elaborate and add a couple of colorful stories on our day tours. We have plenty of photos of the ship—and of this painting.”
He made a note on his tablet to work on the Franklin Stone section of his script. Mussels, coal scattered on the bottom, and the nineteen survivors. Those men occupied his mind, too.
Rob started the video on the computer and Wyatt filled in detail as the images changed. He smiled to himself. The two got along so well, anticipating each other’s thoughts, finishing each other’s sentences. As well suited as they were, he sometimes wondered why they hadn’t drifted together, become a couple. Or if they had, they were good at keeping it private. That was fine with him. No need for complications, he thought, suddenly aware of how dispassionate, even cold, he sounded about the prospects of staff romance. He could almost hear Augusta chastising him. “Heave a heart,” she’d have said.
“Aren’t you doing some interviews tomorrow?” Wyatt asked.
“Four, to be exact. Dawn will introduce me to these editors and people running tourist information centers.”
“That was fast,” Rob observed. “We’ve only been here a few weeks.”
“Seems my PR consultant is very well connected. She was honest about being able to call in some favors and nail down some space in a couple of papers.”
“Will you talk about the Franklin Stone?” Rob asked. “Give the flavor of what divers can see in their own backyard.”
“It’s the primary site for this season. So, yes, I’ll mention it.” He leaned back in the desk chair and laced his hands behind his head. The dive was responsible for his pensive mood. “All these shipwrecks provide a historical trail. You could almost write a history of the coasts of all five great lakes simply by taking a trip through the known marine accidents and boats in their graves at the bottom. Treasures everywhere—not for the taking, but for the viewing.”
“I’d use those words in an interview,” Wyatt said. “You have a way of bringing the meaning of what’s underwater to the surface.” She raised her hands defensively as if to stop the inevitable teasing. “I know, I know. Bad pun. But it works.”
Jerrod laughed. “I do intend to mention the history. But Dawn is trying to book some presentations for that. She’s afraid I’ll veer off topic, as people in her business say. For these interviews, I’ll mostly describe our dives and the wreck. It’s all about rustling up enough business to make our summer worthwhile.”
Dawn had read him like a book. It hadn’t taken her long to pick up on his tendency to get lost in the lore and the history and lose sight that he was selling his products, dives and tours. A familiar heaviness settled in his chest. It was impossible to ignore it, because Augusta used to chide him about taking side trips into history.
The arrival of lunch pulled him out of his thoughts. “Let’s run that video again while we eat,” he said. “There might be things we see we can highlight.”
Watching the video lifted his spirits in an odd sort of way. Once lunch was over, Rob went to the Lucy Bee to work on the engine and Wyatt headed to the house to answer emails and check in with the Key West crew. That left him alone in the office for the afternoon. Or, he could go home and spend time with Carrie or find out if Melody planned to take her to the park after lunch. But he didn’t trust himself to be able to be more than half present with his daughter.
His mind was kind of jumbled lately, or maybe it was his heart that needed to settle down. Ever since telling Dawn about the past, she’d been on his mind. But he’d finally reached the point that thoughts of Augusta and Dabny made him smile and not reel from the pain. At first the horror of what happened had left him physically weak—unable to trust his legs to bear his weight. Then numbness had set in, like paralysis that robbed him of what he had to give to other people, even his little girl. But now, even when he was talking with Dawn, describing what happened, he felt different, more at ease with himself. For sure, it was all as real as ever. Maybe, though, he’d turned a corner and the vision of that part of his life was changing. The memory wasn’t fading so much as getting smaller and losing some of its power as he moved forward with Carrie and embraced a new, if limited, life.
Jerrod grabbed his jacket and took off for home—and Carrie.
* * *
“YOU’LL GET A top-of-the-line tour of the area today. I can show you lots of off-the-beaten path spots.” Dawn pulled the seat belt across her body and managed to move her hip just enough that she could click it into place with her good hand. She’d scheduled back-to-back appointments in key places, including two stops in Door County. Jerrod had insisted on doing the driving, so Dawn wouldn’t put any strain on her wrist. To make it even easier on her, he’d traded vehicles with Melody, so they could avoid the need to strain her wrist or knee—or both—to get in and out of the van.
“It’s odd to be a passenger,” Dawn said, watching the gas stations on the edge of town give way to dairy farms, orchards, and a few stables. Not that she could see any of it, but the road was as familiar as an old shoe. Today, though, the heavy fog even obscured the taillights of the car ahead.
“It’s like being in a tunnel,” Jerrod said, “but if you live on these lakes, you get used to fog, huh?”
Dawn raised a finger in the air next to her ear. “And foghorns. Listen to that sound.”
He smiled at the next faint blast.
After an initial email exchange where they’d each mentioned enjoying their dinner, Dawn had said nothing more about it. Neither had Jerrod. Since the immediate items on her to-do list for Jerrod could be handled online and by phone, including arranging these interviews, she hadn’t seen him for several days. In the interim, April had turned to May and Jerrod and his crew were settled into the two houses that would be their summer headquarters.
She directed him to the state road that would take them directly to the headquarters of the company that produced half the free papers and magazines that promoted the Two Moon Bay tourist hub and neighboring towns. Jerrod would be drawing diving guests and tour boat passengers from both areas.
“The most in-depth interview is with Wilson Cone at Peninsula News, the weekly events paper. They want lots of background, so you can elaborate on what you’ve done in the Virgin Islands and Thailand. Wilson is very excited about talking to you.”
Trying not to bog him down in detail, she described the other stops she’d scheduled, ending with a shorter interview for a glossy life-on-the-peninsula magazine. The shorter two appointments in the middle were typical tourist ad books with some short pieces. “They don’t claim to be journalists, so the interviews tend to be short and not exactly deep.”
“Got it. I’ve done many of those over the years. Augusta called them overview interviews with a teaser.”
He didn’t look happy as he said that, but Dawn was glad he mentioned his wife. It explained the somber demeanor she’d observed. The pleasant way he interacted with Gordon over dinner—and with her—gave Dawn a sense of the Jerrod as he was before the tragedy. Could he be that way again? She was almost afraid to answer the question.
Making these rounds of publications was a big part of her job, but that morning nothing seemed routine about the day ahead. For one thing, she’d taken more care with her clothes and makeup than usual. Even choosing between the turquoise drop earrings or gold hoops took longer than it normally did. Like getting ready for a date, she reluctantly admitted when she settled on the turquoise pair, not a formal work appointment.
“Thanks for getting this type of exposure off the ground,” Jerrod said, glancing sideways to meet her eye. “I know we got in just under the wire.”
“I’m glad it happened. And I didn’t have to twist too many arms to get appointments for you.” She stared out the window knowing the landscape was greening, even if she couldn’t see it clearly through the dense fog. “If I waved a wand and cleared the fog up ahead, you’d see the lake appear right around the next corner.”
“According to the weather radio the fog is in here to stay,” Jerrod said. “So it’s not a good day to take the boats out, anyway. Besides, thinking about these interviews helped me pull my thoughts together about diving and shipwrecks and the adventure and beauty involved.”
“Hey, keep talking like that and you’ll do fine,” Dawn said, grinning. “That’s what you’re selling after all, adventure, beauty, something out of the ordinary.”
“And, as you’ll hear me say—again and again—each dive is unlike any other. Every trip under the surface of any body of water is unique.”
“Every drive around the peninsula is unique, too. With the fog and snow and fall colors and clouds of apple and cherry blossoms and summer flowers, it’s never the same twice.” Although this day trip was about business, Dawn was glad the legwork was done.
Riding along next to him, Jerrod himself occupied her thoughts, just as he had earlier that morning when she was nervous with anticipation. Sometimes she had to stop herself from jumping too far ahead, but she’d asked for a challenging project and she got it. Dawn wished they were traveling in comfortable silence, feeling no need to talk. That wasn’t quite true. The warmth of their previous time together hung between them, almost as a barrier to business as usual.
It had been his idea to bring their families together after her trip to the hospital. She wasn’t expecting that evening and what had felt like intimacy between them. Saying goodbye to Carrie that evening had left Dawn needing to come down from surprisingly intense emotions. She’d said good night to Gordon and hurried to her bedroom trying to calm a wave of unexpected attraction—and longing.
Even Gordon felt a shift, as if something important happened. For the last couple of weeks he’d peppered her with questions about Jerrod and diving. She was sure other questions lurked beneath the surface. Like her, Gordon was drawn to Jerrod.
A street sign barely visible in the mist jolted her back to the present. Just in time. “Take the next right and then after the stoplight, you can take another right into the parking lot. I was daydreaming and almost missed seeing the turnoff to Rock Hill.”
A few minutes later, she led the way into the two-story glass and stone Peninsula News headquarters.
“What a building,” Jerrod said, scanning the open space and atrium.
“It’s a real showpiece in Rock Hill,” Dawn said. “They replaced an old wooden 1950s building that looked like it had been glued together in a day or two. This building sends a signal that tourism is a serious industry, not an afterthought behind fishing and farming.”
Jerrod frowned. “I imagine there’s an argument whether that’s good news or bad news.”
“Right you are,” she agreed. “So far, coexistence has prevailed, mainly because the orchards and farms bring a lot of visitors. We can’t have farm stores without produce, namely the local specialties, cherries and apples. You can buy tarts and tortes and pies, jam and jelly and chocolate-covered everything. And in the fall, the apple products share space with pumpkin desserts and such.”
Seeing she’d finally amused him, she added, “Nowadays, these farm stores have added big selections of wine, too, from the many wineries that have sprung up around here. Good wine, too.” She grinned. “And that, Mr. Walters, is the end of the local commercial.”
The receptionist recognized her and directed them to the cushioned benches on the second level. On a clear day they could look downhill to the waterfront, where a series of walkways and docks led to shops and restaurants. Rock Hill was upscale and touristy, but as beautiful as it was, Dawn liked the atmosphere of Two Moon Bay so much better. Her town sent out a warmer invitation to stay awhile. Even Jerrod had mentioned how quickly he’d learned to navigate around the pedestrian-friendly town. The Bean Grinder staff had quickly adopted him and his crew as regulars and called them by name. She liked that he was beginning to feel at home there.
When they sat side by side on a bench outside Wilson’s office, Dawn decided she had to speak up, knowing she wouldn’t be doing her job as a PR consultant if she kept quiet. She put her hand on his arm to make sure she had his full attention. “How would you feel if Bali comes up? I understand you wouldn’t welcome nosy journalists probing, but we’re deliberately doing things that will put you in the public eye.”
Jerrod lowered his head. “I need to settle in here with Carrie first, before I’d be ready to talk about that. I’ve got to feel at home, to the extent any place can feel like home to me now, and maybe then, down the road, if someone asks, I’ll answer.” He paused. “I used to be paralyzed, almost mute. Couldn’t talk about any of it. But things are different. I don’t want people to pity me. That would be too much.”
Dawn bit the corner of her bottom lip, a sure sign she was frustrated.
Some part of her wanted to assure Jerrod that in no way did he elicit anyone’s pity. Sympathy, yes. What had happened to him was a true tragedy. She’d wondered about his serious demeanor, the reasons he smiled so little.
“I don’t get why it would even come up. Really.”
“The internet, Jerrod. Easy access to information that just pops up.” Dawn lifted her arms in a show of exasperation. What fantasy world was he living in? “You can be looking for one thing and then all of a sudden the search brings up something you weren’t expecting.”
“Oh, sure, like these writers are going to go snooping around about me.” He cast a pointed look her way. “These are tourist guides, Dawn.”
Nice put-down. “These are interviews, and you don’t get chances like this just by snapping your fingers, you know,” she said, snapping her own fingers in the space between them. “And, of course, these writers are looking you up. You’re being naive to think otherwise.”
“Naive?” he said in a loud voice.
“That’s what I said.” She pointed to herself. “How do you think I learned about what happened to Augusta and Dabny? The internet, of course.”
Stunned by her own admission, Dawn glanced around her, relieved no one was around to hear them.
Jerrod stared at her, his eyes icy. The vein in his temple pulsated. Finally, he spoke. “I suppose you saw this information before I sat in your living room and brought it up.”
Dawn closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “Yes, but I didn’t go looking…” Behind Jerrod, the office door opened and Wilson’s face appeared. “Oh, good morning, Wilson.”
“Nice to see you, Dawn. How have you been?” Wilson asked.
“Good. Let me do the introductions,” she said, willing her voice to a normal tone as she approached Wilson standing in the doorway.
They followed Wilson into his office, but she moved aside to give Jerrod room at the small table in the corner in the paper-cluttered office. “I’ll sit over here,” she said, pointing to an empty desk chair several feet from the table. She stole a glance at him and saw his face looked no more serious than usual.
“I see you and your clients’ names in papers and local guides everywhere,” Wilson said, apparently not puzzled by the distance she’d created. “And on the radio. Lots of action.”
Dawn smiled. “Can’t hurt to have my newest client hear about the success of some other ones.”
“I’ve heard a lot about a fitness center and party planning business,” Jerrod said flatly. He quickly added, “And it’s all been good.”
As if she weren’t in the room, Wilson pointed to Dawn. “We call her the publicity maven. You chose well, Jerrod. Dawn’s clients become regulars of ours around here. They’re always doing something newsworthy.”
“Ah, flattery. I love it. And by the way, maven is much better than diva. But he’s already hired me, Wilson.” To keep her hands still, Dawn reached into her bag and pulled out her planner. “You two go ahead.” Looking at Jerrod, she added, “I can step out if you’d like.”
“No, that’s not necessary.” His voice remained flat.
Wilson looked quizzically from Jerrod to Dawn, no doubt wondering if her client was always so stiff, Dawn thought. She smiled at Wilson and took her seat. She kept her hands busy writing a grocery list in her planner. Ridiculous. She never made grocery lists.
“Okay, then, let’s get started.” Wilson pulled a reporter’s spiral-top notebook out from under a stack of what looked to Dawn like regional dailies. Dawn didn’t see many of those old-fashioned journalists’ tools anymore among the staff writers and freelancers she encountered. Wilson was not only an older man by anyone’s definition, he was also old school.
As Wilson flipped the notebook open and grabbed a pencil out of a coffee mug filled with them, Dawn went back to pretending she was working. Jumping ahead, she was relieved knowing Jerrod wouldn’t need any coaching to prepare for their next stops.
“I’ve read the background material, so I see you have extensive experience,” Wilson said. “I’ve pigeonholed you, more or less. You’re in the adventure business.”
“Fair enough,” Jerrod said.
“Your photographs are fine,” Wilson said, lifting a printout of eight-by-ten photos, “but I’d like to see the boats for myself. Before you leave, we can set up a time for me to come down to the docks in Two Moon.”
“You’re welcome to come on one of our trial runs,” Jerrod said. “I’ve made a couple of dives, but we’re doing a few more before we bring the divers or the tour boat passengers.”
Wilson shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on that invitation. I’m not exactly water phobic, but I don’t spend much time on the lake—or under it.”
You and me both, Wilson. She almost blurted those words, but wisely held back. Snorkeling in really warm water aside, Dawn was almost grateful for the immobilizer on her wrist and the bump on her head. It gave her an excuse to avoid the diving issue at least for the time being. She’d not reacted one way or another when Jerrod had mentioned diving with him in the future.
“I get it,” Jerrod said, “Lots of people feel that way, and needless to say, they aren’t my customers.”
From there, everything went exactly as Dawn had imagined and she listened in and watched as Jerrod loosened up. This phase of her plan was off to a good start.
It didn’t hurt that Wilson was a solid sports and outdoor life journalist. He wouldn’t take this article lightly. He probed deeply, too, letting Jerrod explain the lure of shipwrecks and how they were a window to the past.
“But what about diving itself?” Wilson asked. “It’s so cold up this way, and the water never gets all that warm, not even in August. Is a dive really worth it?”
“Each dive is different, unique.” Jerrod rested his forearms on the tabletop. “Each time you venture beneath the surface of a body of water, whether it’s the Caribbean or Lake Michigan, you can expect to see—and feel—something new.”
“And you believe it’s safe?”
Dawn saw Jerrod’s quick change of focus as he looked toward the window, which showed nothing but the gray fog. Still, Dawn saw the faraway look in his eyes. For the moment, the only sound in the room was the faint scratch of Wilson’s pencil jotting notes.
“It’s safe if people are trained and up for a challenge,” Jerrod said, shifting in the chair. “My crew has as much expertise as any diving operation you’d find anywhere in any country. They’ve been with me for several years and have taken others on coral reef and shipwreck dives in locations all over the world. So, does that make it risk free? No. But no adventure is.”
“I know you understand that better than most people,” Wilson said, his voice low. “I saw a couple of online pieces about the terrorist attack in Bali. Such a terrible tragedy for you and your family.”
Jerrod shot Dawn a look. But she lowered her gaze.
“Since I’m not known in the area and am starting fresh,” Jerrod said slowly, “I’d rather not have that story follow me around.”
Wilson knit his brows. “Look, I wasn’t planning to mention it, because it isn’t related to your local business. But others might ask you about it, even your passengers…” He shrugged and left it at that, but stood as a signal that the interview was done.
They were awkwardly silent on the way back to the car and the drive to the next two stops. Each time, they went through the similar round of introductions and quick questions for short blurbs in tourist monthlies. If the situation weren’t so sad, Dawn would have had a good laugh over the front they put up. They were like a feuding married couple, riding along in grim silence in the car and putting on their professional game face at each venue.
On the way to the last stop, Dawn said, “Jerrod, let’s clear the air.”
“I need to do one more interview,” he said, following her directions to the office of the regional publisher in Sturgeon Bay. At least he wasn’t so cold. Still, her impatience with him grew. She might have made a mistake, but she hadn’t shared his secrets with anyone. Besides, they weren’t secrets in the first place. Hadn’t she said as much?
Jerrod was deep into the fourth interview when he seemed fully himself again. Serious, yes, but friendly to the editor, Josie. He acted like he’d decided to make himself at home, Dawn thought. He responded to questions about what Dawn had learned were his favorite topics, the history of the two shipwrecks, the Franklin Stone and the Alice Swann.
“The history is part of the lure for me. These wrecks are unpretentious, like the area itself. These two ships were solid and hardworking, like their owners and crews. Coral reefs, with their exotic colors and sea creatures, are like the shiny objects that get all the attention. It’s time for this area to make the most of its waters and its history.”
“I believe I read that your late wife was from Milwaukee,” Josie said.
“Uh, yes, that’s true. I don’t talk about that a lot.”
“It’s part of your bio,” Josie said, her voice matter-of-fact.
“Maybe so, but, it’s not something I do interviews about, not specifically, anyway.”
Josie pushed a printed sheet toward Jerrod. “Is there anything in this article from the Miami Herald that’s inaccurate?”
Jerrod’s head jerked back in surprise, but he immediately recovered and scanned the page. “Since you’re pressing me for an answer, yes, it’s accurate.”
Josie’s eyebrows lifted. “Okay, I think we have what we need. The piece will run in our Weekender insert.”
Dawn stood, and Jerrod followed her lead. He offered his hand to Josie.
“Thanks,” Dawn said, shaking Josie’s hand. “See you soon.”
“I hope so. We need interesting stories…” she nodded to Jerrod “…like this one.”
Walking out of the building, she noticed Jerrod’s stride was looser and the tension in his face had eased.
“Well, that’s over and done with,” he said, approaching the car. “Overall it wasn’t so bad.”
“Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” She stood at the passenger-side door. “So, are we going to talk about this?”
“What’s to talk about?” he asked, flicking his hand. “You already knew what happened to Augusta and Dabny. You let me go on about it…”
“I didn’t see the point of stopping you.” They were looking at each other over the top of the car, a barrier literally between them. “I’m sorry, Jerrod. Really.”
“It’s just that it’s so hard for me to talk about it,” he said, his voice rising. “I was opening myself up about these painful things.”
Dawn walked around the back of the car to stand with him. When she pressed her hand lightly on his upper arm, his eyes flashed in surprise. “That’s exactly why I didn’t stop you, why I didn’t break in. You seemed to need to tell me this awful story in your own words. So I decided not to interrupt and blurt out that I already knew about it from the internet. Are you kidding me?”
“Okay, okay, but maybe I wouldn’t have gone into it so much, I guess.”
“I wanted you to.” Dawn knew the air would never be clear between them if she left it at that. “I was afraid you’d think I was just snooping around. But I wasn’t. The same Miami Herald piece Josie just showed you was what the search engine brought up.”
Jerrod shook his head. “I was naive. You were right about that. After the attack, when we went back to Florida and Wyatt and Rob helped me save the business, everyone knew what happened. But I thought up here where no one knows me it would be a different story.”
“It was two years ago, too, Jerrod. So, you’re right, it is different here, but to be frank, your story is dramatic.” She again touched his arm. “It was the kind of tragedy almost everyone fears nowadays. That sounds cold, but it’s true. That’s why I didn’t want you to think you could hide it. I didn’t want you caught flat-footed.”
Jerrod covered her hand with his, increasing the pressure against his arm. “I get it. I’m sorry I went all cold on you.”
She nodded. “That’s okay. And if I had to do things over, I’d have told you what I found. But to be honest, I’d still have wanted you to confide in me, you know, let me hear it in your words.”
Jerrod let go of her hand and lightly pulled her to him in a quick embrace. Her muscles relaxed as her cheek brushed against the smooth fabric of his jacket. She was surprised, but not in a negative way. For a few seconds she held her breath.
“Wasn’t I promised lunch in some special place up this way?” Jerrod asked, lowering his arm.
Reluctantly, she exhaled as she backed away and returned to the passenger side and opened the door. “I seem to recall making that promise. So, let’s go.”
* * *
AS THEY FINISHED their Swedish pancake platters at Al Johnson’s restaurant, the sun had defied the forecast and burned off the fog. They’d had a late lunch at this particular place because it was one of her favorite restaurants outside of Two Moon Bay. With the tension gone between them, Jerrod felt lighter than he had in a long time. All four appointments were behind him and he could relax. He’d been wrong about what would happen if Dawn knew Augusta’s and Dabny’s deaths were his fault. He’d feared she’d shrink from him as if avoiding something toxic. But she hadn’t. Maybe that was the real reason he’d needed to be closer to her. It was his way of thanking her without actually saying the words.
“The restaurant was the only stop we made today where you didn’t know pretty much everyone,” he said, switching his train of thought as they left the restaurant.
“Oh, that’s what you think,” she shot back, feigning a self-satisfied look. “As a matter of fact, I ran into an old friend in the ladies’ room.”
“I might have known. But it’s good to navigate new places with someone familiar with everything.”
As they climbed into the car, she said, “Now that the sun’s out, there’s something I’d like to show you. It won’t take long to get there, maybe twenty minutes. Are you up for a side trip?”
“Lead the way,” he said, wondering where she got all her energy. After four appointments, she was as fresh as when they’d started their trip up the peninsula earlier that day. He used to be like that himself, he mused. It came from enjoying his work the same way he could see Dawn enjoyed hers. But her energy also rose from a clear conscience, a lack of burden. That’s how he read Dawn. He’d once thought self-blame was a permanent part of him. Now he wondered if could let that piece of himself off the hook. He hadn’t even considered it before. Only as he settled into life in Two Moon Bay had he thought it possible.
He followed her directions onto the main highway and then the state road in the next town north. She directed him down an unpaved road full of bumps and ruts that slowed his speed to less than twenty miles an hour. He began to regret saying yes to this extra jaunt. “This place better be good,” he teased.
“This is the worst of it,” she said, “but the reward is at hand.” She pointed ahead to a parking area. “This is actually a county park, but it’s the lookout that draws people from everywhere. These bluffs are the highest point in the area, so we get a beautiful panoramic view of the lake and the small islands around the peninsula.”
They were alone in the park on that weekday in May and under a now clear blue sky.
“Follow me.” She led the way down steep and winding wooden stairs to a platform and fence that offered a view of the lake from a point higher than he’d seen before. The fresh breeze created an even pattern of whitecaps broken up only by the wooded islands. “This is the reward for going down that awful road.” She encompassed the view with an exaggerated sweep of her arm. “It seems a shame to come as far as the famous Al Johnson’s and not go this one leg more.”
He stood still and took it all in. The fishy scent carried on the breeze, the sound of the waves slapping the rocky boulders below, the spray flying high into the air. He’d trekked to the panoramic views of oceans and lakes, waterfalls and rivers. They almost always left him awestruck, even overwhelmed. For reasons Jerrod couldn’t explain, he found this view both majestic and oddly comforting. “There’s nothing unpretentious about this view.”
“Ha! That’s so funny. I’ve never heard anyone describe it quite like that, but you’re right. It’s more dramatic than most of our landscape. I think of this part of the state as a showpiece of gentle beauty. Two Moon Bay is one of the best of its gems.” She tilted her head back and inhaled deeply. “I can’t get enough of that lake smell.”
Dawn was so much more than to-do lists and that satchel she called a handbag she hauled around. “You really love it here, don’t you?”
“I do.” She shrugged. “I love to travel, but I always want to come back to this neck of the woods. It’s home.”
He thought about home, and what that meant for him. He didn’t know anymore. But being around Dawn made him ask questions he hadn’t allowed himself to think about for the past couple of years.
“I suppose for you, Key West is home?”
She phrased that as a question, so she probably expected an answer. He searched for one, but finally said, “I don’t know if that’s true anymore. It was always the base, the place we called home. But I’m not attached to it.”
He gazed at the grayish blue lake. “I can’t even imagine not having water as my, oh, I don’t know, point of reference.”
“Me, too,” she said, turning away from the fence. “I suppose we ought to head back.”
He glanced at his watch. “I like to be home for dinner with Carrie. On most days I spend time with her in the evening. It’s our special time, and Melody gets her breaks, too.”
“Now that you know where this place is, you can tell Wyatt and Rob about it, and you can bring Carrie to see it, too.” She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “I wanted you to know it’s here. After all, not all the beauty around here is found under the water.”
Not by a long shot. He almost laughed out loud at the direction of his thoughts. “I understand why you wanted to bring me here.”
“I had a feeling you would,” she said, getting into the car.
When they’d settled into their seats, Dawn said, “One more thing. I propose a toast.” She picked up her bottle of water from the cup holder.
Puzzled, he did the same.
“To the success of your new venture for however long you choose to make this little corner of the world your home.”
They bumped the water bottles and Dawn laughed. “It’s not exactly fine wine and crystal glasses.”
Who needed crystal? He drove back down the rutted road thinking about Dawn and mulling over her question about home.