“By any chance, are you Sierra?” the guy asked.
“Yes. Who are you?”
“I’m Derek.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Raindrops as fine and small as a sprinkling of dust particles managed to find their way to Jordan’s camera lens. The unpredictable wind that twisted the rain and deposited the droplets on his lens had already knocked over one photographer’s tripod. The weather acted like an unruly child, picking up handfuls of sand and throwing it at Jordan’s back so that his bare legs felt as if they were being pelted and left with tiny pock marks.
Last night had been one crazy night. The sort of night he hoped never to repeat.
Jordan looked at the other photographers up and down the beach. They weren’t deterred by the change in weather. They were hungry for the shots. They were eager to prove themselves to the sponsors in the same way the surfers were pulling out all the stops and performing on the fifteen-foot waves in view of a large audience on the sand and a lineup of sponsors in the raised booth.
And Derek was one of those competitors.
After Jordan’s call to him the day before, Derek had checked into afternoon flights, found a seat on a flight that, with the time change, got him into Honolulu at 5:30. He caught a bus to the North Shore and ended up at the beach house a little after seven. Fortunately, Sierra was there to let him in.
Jordan was so frustrated over the meeting with Scott from Moana Alii surfboards and the way Mariana’s practical joke had sabotaged it that he drove all the way into Haleiwa to find something to eat where, hopefully, no one would hassle him. He briefly considered going back to the beach house to see if Sierra wanted to go with him to Haleiwa, but it seemed like a bad idea considering his attitude. He hadn’t eaten since their breakfast that morning by the window. That had been such a beautiful time with her. He didn’t want to ruin it with a venting session about the immature antics of her best friend.
Jordan worked through a new way of how he would present himself to the next potential sponsor that came along. Better yet, he decided he would be the one to pursue the next sponsor. He would get an overview of which key sponsors were at the meet and then formulate a strategic plan to connect with the ones he wanted to work for. That’s how Derek had been going about his search for a sponsor as a surfer. Why couldn’t the same strategy work for a photographer?
An air horn sounded, signaling the end of the ten-minute heat. In a few minutes the next two competitors would be up. Derek was one of them. This was his first run. Jordan planted his feet, lowered his baseball cap, and lined up Derek in his lens as Derek paddled out toward the fifteen-foot blue beasts.
“This is it, Derek. You can do it.”
Jordan had been so focused on the ocean he didn’t think anyone was close enough to hear him.
Sierra’s voice spoke up from his left side. “Which one is Derek?”
Jordan turned, surprised to see her. “Hey. How long have you been there?”
“Just a few minutes. I told Derek I’d watch when he was up.”
Sierra wore her Rancho Corona sweatshirt and had the hood up, protecting her from the rain that was now coming down at a steady pace. Her blond curls seemed to be trying to escape the hood’s restriction and tumbled out both sides. She had on a pair of shorts, and to Jordan’s surprise, she was wearing cowboy boots. It was one of the most unexpected combinations he had seen on a girl, but somehow it made him want to stare at her.
Last night Sierra had ducked into her room and closed the door as soon as Jordan arrived back at the beach house. At the time he thought she was being considerate in leaving the room so that Jordan and Derek could have the chance to talk, that is, after Jordan recovered from the surprise of Derek arriving when he did. Mariana wasn’t back yet when Jordan and Derek turned in for the night. As far as he knew, she stayed out all night.
“He’s in the green rash guard.” Jordan dragged his attention back to his camera and to Derek, who was now getting in position, waiting for just the right wave. He had only ten minutes to wow the judges.
“Sorry,” Sierra said. “What’s a rash guard?”
“A shirt,” Jordan said without looking away. “Sort of like a sleeveless wet suit top.” He focused the lens and put all his concentration on Derek.
The next wave swelled, and the other surfer who had gone out with Derek made a move for it. Derek hung back and rode over the top of the bronco as his competitor got up on his board and showed the audience why he was a favorite to take sweeps. Out of loyalty, Jordan didn’t shoot the competitor. Then he realized that, if this guy did win and Jordan turned in his frames for the day without including any of what could be the winning ride, he would jeopardize his position with the magazine.
Jordan caught three crisp shots as the competitor came out the other side of the barrel with his hand gracing the wall of the wave. The guys who had the sophisticated cameras in the water were the ones who could nail those inside shots. Still, Jordan was pretty pleased with what he got.
The ocean seemed to be calming down as the rain pelted the sand, leaving tiny polka dots all around. Jordan had rigged an umbrella-like covering over the end of his lens, but the wind had torn it up. He steadied his tripod and pulled a cloth from his bag so that he could use the lull to make sure the lens was clear. In the middle of this process he realized Sierra was gone. He didn’t blame her for taking off. The wind and rain didn’t make for enjoyable conditions on the beach.
Just knowing she had been there beside him earlier had made Jordan happier than he would have thought it could. And now he couldn’t believe it, but he missed her. He wished she was still there by his side. At the same time, he was impressed by how sensitive she was to give him space when he was working or, as she had done last night, take her leave so he and Derek could talk privately.
Jordan got his eye back where it belonged and focused the camera on Derek as the next set lined up. The waves came in an odd assortment of undesirable swells. These waves weren’t at all like the ones that had been breaking yesterday and most of the morning. The storm that was rolling in was having an effect on how the deep water was behaving beyond the coral reef. Time was getting away. Derek needed to make a move, or he would be shut out of the entire session.
His competitor tried one of the inconsistent waves and took a dive off the top before the beaut crested. Derek let one more fickle wave pass, and then he took his shot. By the limited time left on the clock, Jordan knew what Derek had to know also: This was his one shot. He had to make it.
Jordan snapped photos the minute Derek got up on his board. He was leaning farther forward than Jordan had remembered seeing him lean in before. But then, Derek never had ridden such a big wave before. He kept his balance, bobbing the nose of the board up and down in an effort to keep control as the top of the wave closed over him like a giant, foaming fist.
For a moment, Jordan couldn’t see Derek. He knew this was where so many of the surfers lost it, inside the curl. The more experienced surfers knew how to get low to increase their speed and maximize the wave’s force on the back of the board. The ones who could hang on in that tunnel of unstable power were the ones who shot out of the open end of the barrel with a blast of white sea spray chasing them as they flew along the face of the diminishing arm of the wave.
Jordan held his breath. He kept shooting, watching as two and then three seconds passed. If Derek was going to make it out, it had to be now.
There he was! The flash of green from his rash guard was the first thing Jordan saw through the sheet of white ocean spray. The tip of Derek’s blue board blended with the water and wasn’t recognizable until he was all the way out. Derek went for a risky turn, and as he did, the irregular wave seemed to lash out with a watery whip and flipped the board from the backside up. Derek shot straight up above the wave and did a duck and roll sort of plunge into the water with his surfboard still attached by the ankle strap.
Jordan captured it all on film. Pulling away, he tried t
o focus his eyes for long distance, waiting to see Derek and his board as they rolled toward shore. Jordan also knew that this was one of the most treacherous parts of the runs at Sunset Beach. He had heard the other photographers talking about the undertow in the deep water. He had also heard a lot about the coral reef. It was what kept the big waves out to sea and away from the shoreline, but it was one of the worst on Oahu for surfers and responsible for serious injuries and even deaths over the years.
All Jordan could see was the expanse of feisty white water churned up where the wave had come down with great force. One of the jet skis was heading out to the site. Derek’s competitor was lined up to take the next wave that was about to crest. Again, Jordan felt torn. He needed to do his job and take the important shots of the day. But he wanted to rush down to the water and watch as the jet skis pulled Derek in. First they had to find him.
Jordan took one shot of the competitor as he rose to his feet at the top of what had to be one of the biggest waves of the day. He kept clicking as the experienced surfer took his position and then found he couldn’t hold it. While the crowd on the beach watched, the surfer who was favored to win took a dive down a twenty-foot wave. His ankle strap broke loose, and his surfboard shot into the air like a rocket ship, spinning as it flew over the wave’s backside.
Jordan snapped all the way through the moment until neither the surfer nor the board could be seen. Then he left his camera and ran to the shore where he saw the jet ski coming in with Derek in tow.
Sierra was already at the shore. “They have him,” she said.
Jordan felt frantic. If Derek came out of this mangled in any way, what would Mindy do? Derek needed to go home in one piece. He was going to be a father. He had a lot of responsibility waiting for him at home. This was insane. What had they been thinking?
The jet ski did a turn in the shallower water. Two lifeguards went over to the stretcher that was rigged to the back of the jet ski. For a moment the lifeguards bent over Derek, and nobody moved.
“Is he okay?” Sierra asked.
“I can’t tell.”
Sierra stepped closer and slid her hand into Jordan’s. He was surprised at what a difference her soft and comforting closeness made in calming him down. He gave her hand a squeeze and then, because he couldn’t stand not knowing, he let go of Sierra’s hand, threw his baseball cap on the sand, and ran into the water.
Chapter Thirty
Sierra drew both her hands to her mouth as she watched Jordan plunge into the water. He swam toward the jet ski where Derek was laid out on the stretcher at the back. Two lifeguards were bent over him, and she couldn’t tell if Derek was even moving.
A second jet ski with an attached stretcher had been dispatched to rescue Derek’s competitor. He was towed in to the shallow water and managed to slide off the stretcher and make his way to shore without assistance. His board, it seemed, was on its way to the nearest neighboring island.
Sierra thought she saw Derek’s head come up just about the time that Jordan reached him. They were in shallow enough water and, while it was churned up and not desirable for an afternoon swim, it seemed safe for them to stay where they were and assess the situation.
“Can you tell if he’s okay?” A man wearing a straw beach hat came up alongside Sierra and dipped his chin toward Derek.
“I can’t tell.” She went over and scooped up Jordan’s baseball cap from where he had tossed it on the sand.
The man followed her. “Was that your boyfriend who went out in the water after him?”
“No, he’s a photographer. He and Derek have been friends since college. This was their dream. Jordan is here on assignment for Surf Days, and this was Derek’s first run. His wife was hit by car a few days ago on her bike. They almost lost the baby she’s carrying, but for the moment she’s okay. Derek just got here last night.” Sierra suddenly stopped her nervous rattling and put both her hands over her mouth again. She knew the anxiety of the moment had released the floodgates of information, but that was no excuse. She should never share so many personal details with a stranger.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m just nervous.”
The guy nodded. “It’s okay. I understand. Hey, look. They have him up.”
Sierra saw Derek heading toward them with his board. Jordan was right beside him. As they made their way to shore, Sierra said, “It looks like he’s all right. What a relief.”
“Do you know if either of your friends is sponsored? I mean, aside from the magazine?”
“No. They’re hoping that might happen while they’re here. It’s super-competitive, from what I understand. Jordan had a meeting last night that didn’t go well with a sponsor he was hoping to impress; so I think they’re both a little discouraged about that.”
Sierra realized that, once again, she was saying far too much. She pressed her lips together and watched as Derek and Jordan emerged from the water and walked toward her. She went to meet them holding Jordan’s baseball cap for him. It relieved her that the guy in the straw hat didn’t follow her.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Derek nodded. He coughed and shook the water from his ears.
Sierra looked at Jordan, expressing her relief. He gave her an appreciative nod and took his baseball cap, which she held out to him.
Derek said, “Thanks, man,” and gave Jordan a slap on the back.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
The three of them headed back to where Jordan had abandoned his camera. Fortunately, everything was as he had left it. The wind hadn’t toppled the stand, and no one had walked off with any of his expensive equipment.
Sierra pulled a beach towel from her shoulder bag and offered it to both of them. Not that it made much difference since the rain was still coming in at an angle. Neither of the guys had much to say. They patted their faces dry. Jordan put on his cap and went back to work, putting all his attention onto his camera.
Derek hung around for a little while and then said he was going to the booth to see if he had made the lineup for the afternoon heat. She could tell that he would be content to sit out the next heat. Whatever happened out there had shaken him deeply.
After Derek left, Sierra wondered what she should do. It wasn’t pleasant being out in the rain and wind with the heart-stopping life-and-death moments playing out in front of her. But she had nothing to do back at the beach house. Mariana hadn’t come home all night. Sierra guessed she was having fun with Tianna after making her declaration yesterday about how un-fun Sierra was.
That morning Sierra had woken up before Derek and Jordan. She had made coffee for all of them, and that’s when she heard Jordan’s account of what had happened at Ted’s with Mariana and Tianna.
Sierra felt like apologizing for her friend but knew she didn’t need to. Mariana was who she was. Sierra wasn’t responsible for her friend’s actions.
Sierra also picked up how discouraged Jordan was after he had missed out on making a good connection with the guy from the surfboard company. Jordan didn’t make any suggestions about the two of them connecting for dinner that night. Nor did he seem to remember the cooking competition. Sierra had made a comment about how, if they did manage to set up a night to show off their culinary expertise, Derek would have to be the judge now since Mariana seemed to be spending her vacation elsewhere. Jordan’s expression made it clear that he had traveled miles in his thinking since that playful challenge had been made.
So now that she was standing in the rain-tossed weather, she tried her mother’s recent remedy for indecision. Sierra asked herself, What would I like to do right now?
The surprising answer was to go shopping. That was Mariana’s cure-all for boredom, not Sierra’s. What made the difference this time was that Sierra had noticed a number of little huts alongside the road that sold gauze skirts and wind chimes made from shells. That was her kind of shopping. Not high-end designer wear and shoes with impossible heels.
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br /> “I’m going now,” Sierra said softly, hoping not to disturb Jordan’s concentration.
He pulled back from the camera and looked at her with surprise. “You are?”
She nodded. “I’ll see you later.”
“Are you sure you need to go?”
Sierra hesitated. It was nice of him to come across so involved all of a sudden. She didn’t see any point in staying. It wasn’t as if they could talk while he worked. “Yes, I’m leaving now.”
As Sierra walked away, she could feel Jordan watching her. This was more attention than he had shown to her last night and this morning combined. But she knew he had a lot going on. She didn’t expect to be his top priority. It was nice, though, to feel noticed.
Once Sierra was back at the house, she saw Mariana’s car in the driveway. Sierra entered quietly, guessing that Mariana would be asleep, and she was right. Sierra tried to gather her things quietly. She left her heavy sweatshirt at the house and strapped her shoulder bag across the front of her. If she got wet in the rain, she got wet. She didn’t care. It was warm rain. Her plan was to ride one of the beach cruiser bikes she had seen in the garage, and that meant she wanted to be unencumbered as she pedaled.
Mariana didn’t move from her splayed-out position on the bed. She was wearing her ruffled eye mask and her purple earplugs. Sierra guessed it had been a long night and her friend had partied hard. She would probably sleep until sunset.
Maneuvering the bike out of the garage, Sierra realized it had been a long time—a very long time—since she had ridden a bike. She took her time, checking the tires, moving the handlebars, making sure the seat was firmly in place. Swinging her cowboy-booted leg over the low center bar, Sierra got back in the saddle and rode that two-wheeled pony out of the driveway and onto the long walkway that went up and down the coast for miles. Lots of people were out walking and riding in spite of the drippy, windy weather.
Sierra loved the feeling that came with riding a bike again. She had forgotten how this felt, like a slice of one of the best parts of childhood. It represented a sense of freedom and independence. That was how she had always felt when she climbed on her bike and took off to a friend’s house as a child. She pretended she could go wherever she wanted to, including to the moon and back. Sierra realized how much her sense of independence had been wired in her from early on.
Love Finds You in Sunset Beach, Hawaii Page 17