Dive Into You

by Chris Keniston

In the distance a car door slammed, and Doug looked up. Heart pounding, he swallowed hard. For a long panicked minute, as the hulking man climbed from the SUV, sorry excuses for being with Emily flew around his head. Not until the man turned fully, and Doug could see it wasn’t his former teammate, did Doug breathe easy. But that didn’t stop his mind from kicking around the words in his head and searching for a good answer. Just what were his intentions for Emily Everrett?

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You have to acquire a taste for poi.” Emily scooped a spoonful of the traditional Hawaiian food and held it up to Doug’s tightly pressed lips.

  He shook his head.

  She pushed the spoon closer to his mouth.

  Teeth clenched, he continued to shift his head from side to side. “Nope, I gave up eating strange-looking foods when I left the navy.”

  “It’s not gruel.” Emily let the spoon come to rest on her plate. “You have to be a little adventurous in life.”

  Doug’s smile made the corners of his eyes crinkle, but it was the flash of heat behind his gaze that made her insides quiver. “I don’t get my adrenaline fix through food.”

  “No.” She sucked in a deep breath, telling her mind to stay in the moment and not wander down memory lane. “You actually live your life.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Lifting her fork, she poked at the purple yam. “You’ve traveled the world—”

  “Uncle Sam didn’t give me any choice.”

  “Doesn’t matter. When tourists speak of home, whether it’s Florida or California or Italy or Japan, you know what they’re talking about. I’m lucky I get to visit Hilo.”

  “There are a lot of people who would kill to see Hilo or call Hawaii home.”

  “I know.” She put down her fork. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m not. It’s wonderful living in paradise, and I wouldn’t change that for anything. I’d just don’t want to become one of those women who looks up after her kids are grown and finds she’s got a nice life but never really lived.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve met an awful lot of women who seem to be having plenty of fun living after the nest is empty.”

  “That’s true.” How could she explain something she didn’t fully understand herself? Her whole life had been about going with the flow, doing what was expected, all under the watchful eye of her big brother, with the expected goals of finding a good job, a nice man and having a few children. A good life. And she wanted that too—someday. But was it a crime to want to experience the thrill of living before she settled for the good life?

  Doug grabbed his spoon, shoveled up a heaping bite of her poi and shoved it in his mouth. With a tight smile, his jaw moved slightly before he swallowed hard and bobbed his head. “Not as bad as I expected.”

  Emily let out a loud belly laugh. The man looked so adorable. When she’d hit on the handsome guest who’d kept her mesmerized all through Lexie’s wedding, she hadn’t expected to uncover a sweet, caring guy. She liked Doug Hamilton. A lot. Leaning forward she stole a barely there peck on his lips. “You’re cute.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “I’ve heard what you navy guys call your friends. I don’t think I’m old enough to hear what you call the folks you don’t like.”

  “And I wasn’t planning on telling you.” Doug took a sip of his beer and then stabbed at a piece of pork. “Now this, this is really good. I may have to talk Billy or Nick into digging a…what’s the pit called?”

  “Imu.”

  “Right. An imu in their backyard.”

  “Or behind the shop.”

  “Even better.” Doug reached across Emily to refill his plate. The center of the woven mat they all sat on had mounds of food served on traditional banana leaves instead of dishes. Except the piles of pork and other tasty edibles had diminished considerably.

  Soft island music rose slightly in volume, and Emily touched Doug’s arm. “Now comes the show.”

  “We get a show too?”

  “Not the fire-dancing productions the big hotels put on for the tourists, but a fun bit of entertainment. Especially if you like girls in grass skirts.”

  On the makeshift stage between the guests and the ocean, three women came out in traditional island garb of grass skirts, skimpy tops and floral crowns. Somewhere between the rhythmic beat of the drums and swaying hips of the dancers, Emily found her fingers threaded in a comfortable grip with Doug. When she looked down to her hand, then up to Doug, he offered a lazy smile and squeezed her hand before returning his attention to the dancers.

  When the last hula story was told, the couples on either side of them stood and excused themselves for a short walk. Without releasing his hold on her hand, Doug looked down either side of the beach, then turned back to her. “Want to take a stroll too?”

  “No.” She glanced down at their hands. She hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t wanted to draw attention to the linked fingers. And really didn’t want him to let go.

  “Do you mind?” He lifted their joined hands.

  She shook her head. “I like this.”

  His eyes twinkled when he smiled. “Me too.”

  “So what was the craziest thing you’d ever had to eat?”

  “Crazy is in all a matter of what you’re used to. In France I was served a great stew. Thought it was chicken. Turned out to be rabbit. Lots of people eat rabbit, but I kept picturing Bugs Bunny, and every bite was like chewing on an old friend.”

  “I agree. I don’t think I could eat rabbit stew either. I’d be thinking of Fluffy.”

  “Pet rabbit?”

  “Not mine. The biology class mascot. Though most of the kids call him Humpy.”

  “Do I need to ask?”

  “Nope. It’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

  Doug chuckled. “Strangest food you’ve ever eaten?”

  “That would be when Mom made chicken-fried brain and didn’t tell us till we were all done. Ava threw up. Kathleen and I took it in stride but watched what Mom brought home from the grocery store more carefully for the next few years.”

  “What about your brother? What did he think?”

  “Didn’t faze him at all. He already knew he would be joining the navy. I guess he expected not to count on pot roast and apple pie.”

  The couple to Doug’s left returned and sat with a huff. “Okay,” the husband said. “Now I’m ready for dessert.”

  “Me too,” the wife echoed, then turned to Doug. “Did I overhear something about the navy?”

  “My brother was in the navy,” Emily answered.

  “Oh.” The one-word response dripped with disappointment. The woman turned to face Doug. “I thought maybe you were in the military.”

  “Was,” he said.

  “Oh.” This time there was an enthused lilt in her voice.

  “Thank you for your service,” the husband said.

  “My son wants to join the navy,” the wife picked up the conversation. “I’m a bit nervous about it. What did you do?”

  Doug cast a sideways glance at Emily before looking back to the woman. Mentioning EOD might not be optimal if she was worried about her son. “I was a diver.”

  The husband’s nose crinkled in thought. “I don’t remember reading about a diver program.”

  “Yes, sir. My training required nine of the fifty-one-week program be at Naval Diving and Salvage Training Center in Panama City, Florida.”

  “Dirk, our son, he loves the water. I bet he’d like being a diver. He scubas all the time.”

  “That’s what Doug and my brother do now,” Emily interrupted. “My brother and another former teammate run the Big Island Dive shop. Doug just moved here to join them.”

  “Team?” The crease in the husband’s brow deepened. “SEALs?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What kind of team?” the wife asked.

  Doug sucked in a breath. Emily didn’t think the couple noticed, but she did. She almost huffed out loud at
that. When had she come to know Doug well enough to see tells the average person missed?

  “I was part of Billy’s EOD team.”

  “EOD?” the wife asked.

  Her husband took hold of the curious woman’s hand. “That’s explosives.”

  The slight woman blanched. Her mouth fell open, and, when she finally snapped it shut, she swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  What else could the woman say? What could anyone say to the men and women who risked their lives every day defending countries most Americans would never see so that each and every one of us could go to work or school or shopping without fearing for our lives? Or our way of life.

  “Explosive Ordinance Disposal,” Doug explained. “What does your son want to do?”

  “I don’t know that he knows,” the husband answered.

  “That’s why I was excited to talk to someone with personal experience, but, no offense, I don’t think I’m going to mention meeting you to him,” the wife added.

  Doug laughed, and the tendrils of tension that had snaked through the air shattered, bringing a smile to everyone’s face. “As long as he doesn’t get seasick, he can do anything he wants in the navy.”

  “Dirk’s truly a fish in water,” the man said. “His mom nixed the marines and the army, and he gets airsick so the navy seemed a natural fit.”

  Doug looked to the wife. “Well, then you’ll feel better to learn your son couldn’t do EOD. We have to be able to jump out of planes at different heights, and most flights aren’t near as smooth as a commercial jetliner.”

  “Divers jump from airplanes?” the woman asked.

  “We have to do it all. And then some. Leaves us with some interesting skill sets for civilian life.”

  “I bet,” the husband said. “Have you been working in scuba diving since you got out of the navy?”

  “I’m a licensed skydive instructor.”

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to jump out of a perfectly good airplane,” the wife said. “Or a bad one for that matter.”

  “Who’s jumping out of airplanes?” The other couple returned. Closer to Emily’s and Doug’s ages, this pair seemed more the adventurous type.

  Dirk’s father pointed to Doug. “He’s a skydive instructor.”

  “Cool,” the younger man said. “Zack Taylor. Nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend, Sue.”

  Introductions went around, and, after a few repetitions of Doug’s military history, Zach asked him, “So what’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to you jumping out of a plane?”

  “In civilian life that would be the memory guy.”

  “Memory guy?” Emily asked.

  “Yeah. I often did jumps with tandem students. They’re in a special harness and are strapped to me when we get out of the plane.”

  A few heads bobbed. Emily briefly wondered why, knowing she was wanting to jump herself, he hadn’t shared any of his skydiving stories with her.

  “Every student has to go through training. There’s instruction and practice and a video involved. They learn key things about jumping out of particular airplanes and what to do once we’re in the air. All of which are important, especially the part about not moving around so we don’t flail about, and for the student to land in a sitting position with their legs straight out so they don’t risk injury.”

  “Makes sense,” Zach interjected.

  “Between the time you go through training and are called to the ready deck averages about twenty-five minutes. Then we have a fifteen-minute clock to get suited up and ready. At this point I run through the basics with the student. Ask them to show me their arch when we’re free falling. I remind them to bend their legs behind them when we jump. Check their harnesses’ fit and other miscellaneous things. Mostly talk to them and judge how nervous they are. Reassure them and keep them calm.

  “Well, about five minutes before takeoff, one of the staff informs me that my tandem student was in some kind of accident several years ago, and his short-term-memory span only lasts about fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” Sue said. “That’s like that movie.”

  “The one with Drew Barrymore,” her boyfriend added.

  “Yeah. Fifty First Dates. I remember it well,” Doug continued. “For the most part it was exactly like that. Except I didn’t know when the guy’s fifteen minutes started or ended. So I kept asking during the flight if he remembered what to do, and he’d answer yes. Just before we left the plane, I went over everything with him, and he still remembered, so we jumped, no problem.”

  “But…” Dirk’s father prompted.

  “Yeah, but. Normally just about every jump is a textbook scenario. We jump, belly to Earth. The student arches, they box their arms, the chute opens, everyone gets a true bird’s-eye view, and then we land. Not this jump. Of all the times for the chute to malfunction, not only was it with this guy but No Memory Charlie picked that moment to forget where he was and what he was doing.”

  “Oh, no,” multiple voices echoed, including Emily’s.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s okay to use gentle hand gestures, but we don’t want students moving all over the place because that could contribute to a rotation that can cause line twists—”

  “He moved?” someone said.

  “Wouldn’t you?” A horrified voice responded.

  Doug nodded. “Tandem instructors are trained to outfly a student’s movements, but, in this case, the tension knot had us rapidly spinning toward the ground. I had to cut away the compromised chute, and, because we’re spiraling so fast, the reserve chute opens with the lines all twisted. Now we’re not flying anything close to straight—and—I’m reteaching multiple training sessions in thirty seconds while I kick out and try to right the situation.”

  “He must have been totally freaked-out,” Zach said wide-eyed.

  “Considering the circumstances, he was pretty cool about it. After I explained where he was, he followed the instructions, and we landed without incident.”

  “I would go ballistic if I found myself, all of a sudden, spinning in midair.”

  “He was more disoriented than anything. Later his family explained to me that, even though amnesiacs like him don’t know how to find the memories they make, the brain is actually recording them, so they’re tucked away in the back of the mind. As the years go by, they become more accepting and seem rather matter-of-fact about it.”

  “And that’s what happened with this guy?”

  “Apparently,” Doug confirmed.

  “That still seems so freaky. I mean”—Sue crossed her arms in a shiver—“in the movie it was just a dumb gimmick but to think of that happening in real life. And every fifteen minutes.”

  The remaining guests around the woven mat began moving about, gathering their belongings and standing up. Dirk’s dad helped his wife to her feet just as a young girl in her early teens came by with a basket of hibiscus blossoms. “A flower for your lady?” The way his wife beamed up at him, Emily didn’t need to be a mind reader to know he was going to say yes.

  Dirk’s mom turned to clip the bloom to the right side of her head, and the teen shook her head. “Oh, no. Flowers on the right means the lovely lady is available. On the left means she’s in a relationship.”

  A few minutes later the young girl had made three easy sales. Zach’s girlfriend had placed her flower on the taken side as well. Glancing quickly around her table, Emily noticed she was the only available female. Something she rarely paid attention to. The flower firmly in place on the right, she turned to look up at Doug, and, for the first time since she’d been a starry-eyed teen, she wished the blossom could be on her left side. Crap, was she in trouble.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Try as he might, Doug couldn’t remember ever indulging in the simple pleasure of holding a girl’s hand. For as long as he’d known girls existed, they pretty much served one purpose, and hand-holding wasn’t technically a part of that.

  But what surprised him even more was the le
vel of regret at having to let go once they each got to their vehicles. Especially if he intended for Emily to go home alone, he had no choice but to keep a reasonable distance until she was well on her way.

  Taking their time meandering to the parked cars, he considered bringing up skydiving again. He knew she’d been thinking of jumping in order to add a little adventure to her life, and he knew her brother would blow a gasket if she ever did. And yet, while he debated whether or not to share more of the reality of what could be the most exhilarating thing in the world, he kept circling back to what it was about Emily’s perfect world that had her feeling she wasn’t really living.

  “Did I lose you?” At her car, Emily smiled up at him like she and only she held the secrets of the universe.

  “Contemplating how the fool got to the top of the hill.”

  “Ah, we do that a lot in tropical places.”

  He flicked the tip of her nose. “I don’t need to be at the shop tomorrow until the night dive. Will you be rehearsing in the morning?”

  “Every morning except Sundays from now till showtime.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Till tomorrow.” On tiptoe, Emily pressed lightly against him, brushed her lips to his in a gentle tease, then came down on her heels and slid into the driver’s seat. “Sleep well.”

  Like that was going to happen. Her car door slammed shut, and his feet remained rooted in place as he watched her drive out of the lot and turn down the road. The concept of not judging a man until walking a mile in his shoes was something Doug knew well. What he didn’t understand was why it was human nature to want what we didn’t have. Orphans wanted family and siblings and plenty of loving tranquility. Kids from large families wanted to be only children. And people living in a world suitable for a black-and-white sitcom wanted more excitement. He wondered what Emily would say to the adrenaline rush of being chased across town at seventy miles an hour in the middle of the night by cops who took a different view on joyriding than the fifteen-year-old occupants of their foster parents’ car.

  He’d been lucky that time. Had he borrowed the car three months later, Doug would have found himself finishing out his last two years in the social services system in juvie instead. Or worse. And, if he really thought about it, he had to thank foster parent Number Four. Calling the cops on Doug had been the best gift the asshole could have given him. Not that Number Four knew it. Another one of the moochers who took in kids for the monthly check—which beat the creeps who preferred children to people their own size—Number Four had been ready to toss Doug in jail and throw away the key himself if the courts would have let him. Instead Doug wound up serving his last two years with John and Millie Burns. The kind of people the system was supposed to be all about.