Why was she thinking such things?
With a sigh, she focused on the waves, recalling that as a little girl, she used to play in them for hours. Sometimes she rode a boogie board, other times it was fun diving under them as they broke overhead. More often than not, her dad would join her in the water for a while, and the memories brought with them a tinge of sadness.
Soon, she thought, her dad would never enter the ocean again.
* * *
Staring out over the water, Hope reminded herself that she was fretting over first-world problems. It wasn’t as though she were worrying about whether she’d eat today, or have a safe place to sleep. The water she drank didn’t heighten her risk of contracting cholera or dysentery; she had clothing, and an education, and the list went on and on and on.
Her dad—what with his leaf story and all—wouldn’t want her to worry about him. And as for Josh, more than likely, he’d come around. Of their four previous breakups, none had lasted longer than six weeks, and in each case, it had been Josh who’d suggested that they start over. As for Hope, she was a big believer in the philosophy If you love something, set it free, and if it comes back it loves you. Common sense told her that begging someone to stay was often the same as begging someone to love you, and she was wise enough to know that never worked.
Turning from the water, she began to meander down the beach again. Shading her eyes, she searched for Scottie up ahead but couldn’t find him. She scanned the area behind her, wondering how he could have slipped past her, but he wasn’t there, either. Other than her, the beach was empty, and she felt the first twinge of worry. On previous walks, it had sometimes taken her a few seconds to locate him, but he wasn’t the kind of dog that would simply run off. It occurred to her that he might have chased some birds into the water and gotten caught in an undertow, but Scottie never swam in the ocean. And yet, he was…gone.
It was then that she spotted someone walking over the dune a short distance up the beach. Her dad still would have made a big deal about that. Dunes were fragile and people were supposed to use the public access paths if there were no steps to the beach, but…whatever. She had more immediate concerns…
She peered ahead and behind, her gaze returning to the man. He’d reached the beach, and she thought she’d ask him whether he’d seen Scottie. It was doubtful, but she didn’t know what else to do. Veering in his direction, she absently noticed that he seemed to be carrying something. Whatever it was blended in with the white shirt he was wearing, and it took her a moment to realize that he had Scottie in his arms. She picked up her pace.
The man walked toward her, moving with an almost animal-like grace. He was dressed in faded jeans and a white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. As he approached, she noticed his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing chest muscles that indicated both exercise and an active life. He had dark blue eyes, like the sky in late afternoon, and coal-black hair that was turning gray near his ears. When he offered a sheepish smile, she noted the dimple on his chin and an unexpected familiarity in his expression, one that strangely made her feel as if they’d known each other all their lives.
Sunset Beach
Tru had no inkling of what Hope was thinking as she approached, but it was impossible for him to turn away. She was dressed in faded jeans, sandals, and a yellow sleeveless blouse that dipped to a low V in front. With smooth, lightly tanned skin and auburn hair framing high cheekbones, she drew his gaze with irresistible force. Her eyes widened with some effusive emotion—Relief? Gratitude? Surprise?—when she finally came to a breathless stop in front of him. Equally at a loss for words, they faced each other without speaking before Tru finally cleared his throat.
“I’m assuming this is your dog?” he inquired, holding Scottie toward her.
Hope heard an accent, something that sounded British or Australian but wasn’t quite either. It was enough to break the spell, and she reached for Scottie.
“Why are you holding my dog?”
He explained what had happened as he handed her the dog, and watched as Scottie licked her fingers, whining with excitement.
When he finished, he detected a note of panic in her tone. “Are you saying that he was hit by a car?”
“All I know is what I heard. And he was favoring his back leg and shaking when I found him.”
“But you didn’t see a car?”
“No.”
“That’s weird.”
“Maybe it was just a graze. And when he ran off, they thought the dog was unhurt.”
He watched as she gently squeezed Scottie’s legs, one by one. The dog didn’t whine; instead, he began to wiggle with excitement. Tru could see the concern on her face as she finally lowered Scottie to the ground. She watched the dog closely as he trotted off.
“He’s not limping now,” she remarked. From the corner of her eye, she could tell that the man was observing Scottie as well.
“Doesn’t seem to be.”
“Do you think I need to bring him to see the vet?”
“I don’t know.”
Scottie spotted another flock of seagulls. He broke into a flat-out run, leaping at one of them before veering away. Then, putting his nose to the ground, he headed in the direction of the cottage.
“He seems like he’s doing okay,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
“Well, he certainly has a lot of energy.”
You have no idea, she thought. “Thanks for checking on him and bringing him back to the beach.”
“Glad to help. Before you go, you wouldn’t happen to know if there’s someplace nearby where I could get a cup of coffee, would you?”
“No. There are only houses in this direction. A little past the pier, you’ll find a place called Clancy’s. It’s a restaurant and bar, but I don’t think they open until lunch.”
She understood his crestfallen expression. Mornings without coffee were terrible, and if she had magic powers, she’d ban the very thought of it. Scottie, meanwhile, was getting farther away, and she motioned toward him. “I should probably keep an eye on my dog.”
“I was headed in the same direction before I got sidetracked,” he said. He turned. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”
As soon as he asked, Hope felt a frisson of…something. His gaze, the deep cadence of his voice, his relaxed yet gracious manner set a vibration thrumming inside her like a plucked string. Startled, her first instinct was to simply decline. The old Hope, the Hope she’d always been, would have done so automatically. But something took over then, an instinct she didn’t recognize.
“That would be fine,” she answered instead.
Even in the moment, she wasn’t sure why she agreed. Nor would she understand the reason years later. It would be easy to chalk it up to the worries plaguing her at the time, but she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Instead, she came to believe that despite the fact that they’d only just met, he summoned something previously unknown in her, an urge both primal and foreign.
He nodded. If he was surprised by her response, she couldn’t tell as they began to walk beside each other. He wasn’t uncomfortably close, but he was close enough for her to note the way the tips of his thick, dark hair fluttered in the breeze. Scottie continued to explore ahead of them, and Hope felt the crunch of tiny seashells beneath her feet. On the back porch of a home, a light blue flag fluttered in the wind. Sunlight poured down, liquid and warm. Because they were otherwise alone on the beach, walking beside him felt strangely intimate, as if they were together on an empty stage.
“My name’s Tru Walls, by the way,” he finally said, raising his voice over the crash of the waves.
She looked over at him, noting the lines at the corners of his eyes, the kind that come from spending hours in the sun. “Tru? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before.”
“It’s short for Truitt.”
“Nice to meet you, Tru. I’m Hope Anderson.”
“I think I saw you walking last night
.”
“Probably. Whenever I visit here, I bring Scottie out a few times a day. I didn’t see you, though.”
He lifted his chin in the direction of the pier. “I went in the other direction. I needed to stretch my legs. It was a long flight.”
“Where did you fly in from?”
“Zimbabwe.”
“Is that where you live?” Her face registered her surprise.
“All my life.”
“Forgive my ignorance,” Hope began, “but where in Africa is that?”
“In the south. It’s bordered by South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, and Mozambique.”
South Africa was always in the news, but the other three countries were only vaguely familiar to her. “You’re a long way from home.”
“I am.”
“First time at Sunset Beach?”
“First time in the U.S. It’s a different world here.”
“How so?”
“Everything…the roads, the infrastructure, Wilmington, the traffic, the people…and I can’t get over how green the landscape is.”
Hope had no frame of reference for comparison, so she simply nodded. She watched as Tru tucked a hand in his pocket.
“And you?” he asked. “You mentioned that you’re visiting?”
She nodded. “I live in Raleigh.” Then, realizing he probably had no idea where that was, she added, “It’s a couple of hours northwest. More inland…more trees, and no beach.”
“Is it flat like it is around here?”
“Not at all. It has hills. It’s also a sizable city, with lots of people and things to do. As you’ve probably noticed, it can be pretty quiet around here.”
“I would have imagined that the beach would be more crowded.”
“It can be in the summer, and there will probably be a few more people out and about this afternoon. But it’s never really busy this time of year. It’s more of a vacation spot. Anyone you do see probably lives on the island.”
Hope pulled her hair back, trying to keep the strands from blowing in her face, but without an elastic band, it was pointless. Glancing over, she noticed a leather bracelet on his wrist. It was scuffed and worn, with faded stitching forming a design that she couldn’t quite make out. But somehow, she thought, it seemed to suit him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from Zimbabwe before.” She squinted at him. “Are you here on vacation?”
He walked a few paces without answering, surprisingly graceful, even in the sand. “I’m here because I’m supposed to meet someone.”
“Oh.” His answer made her think it was probably a woman, and though it shouldn’t bother her, she felt an unexpected flash of disappointment. Ridiculous, she chided herself as she pushed the thought away.
“How about you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “What brings you here?”
“A good friend of mine is getting married this Saturday in Wilmington. I’m one of the bridesmaids.”
“Sounds like a nice weekend.”
Except that Josh went to Las Vegas instead, so I won’t have anyone to dance with. And I’ll be asked a million questions about him and what’s going on, none of which I really want to answer, even if I could. “A celebration for sure,” she agreed. Then: “Can I ask you a question?”
“By all means.”
“What’s Zimbabwe like? I’ve never been to Africa.”
“It depends where you are, I suppose.”
“Is it like America?”
“So far, not in the slightest.”
She smiled. Of course it wasn’t. “Maybe this is a silly question, but have you ever seen a lion?”
“I see them almost every day.”
“Like outside your window?” Hope’s eyes widened.
“I’m a guide at a game reserve. Safaris.”
“I’ve always wanted to go on safari…”
“Many of the people I guide describe it as the trip of a lifetime.”
Hope tried and failed to imagine it. If she went, the animals would probably go into hiding, like they had at the zoo when she’d visited as a girl.
“How do you even get into something like that?”
“It’s regulated by the government. There are classes, exams, an apprenticeship, and finally a license. After that, you start out spotting, and then eventually you become a guide.”
“What do you mean by spotting?”
“Many of the animals are fairly adept at camouflage, so sometimes they’re not too easy to find. The spotter searches for them, so that the guide can drive safely and answer questions.”
She nodded, regarding him with growing curiosity. “How long have you been doing this?”
“A long time,” he answered. Then, with a smile, he added, “More than twenty years.”
“At the same place?”
“Many different camps.”
“Aren’t they all the same?”
“Every camp is different. Some are expensive, others less so. There are different concentrations of animals depending on where you are in the country. Some areas are wetter or drier, which affects species concentrations and migration and movement. Some camps advertise themselves as luxury camps and boast fantastic chefs; others offer only the basics—tents, cots, and cellophane-wrapped food. And some camps have better game management than others.”
“How’s the camp where you work now?”
“It’s a luxury camp. Excellent accommodations and food, excellent game management, and a large variety of animals.”
“You’d recommend it?”
“Certainly.”
“It must be incredible seeing the animals every day. But I guess it’s just another day at work for you.”
“Not at all. Every day is new.” He studied her, his blue eyes penetrating yet warm. “How about you? What do you do?”
For whatever reason, she hadn’t expected him to ask. “I’m a trauma nurse at a hospital.”
“As in…gunshots?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “Mainly car accidents.”
By then, they were closing in on the place Tru was staying and he began a slow angle away from the compact sand.
“I’m staying at my parents’ cottage over there,” Hope volunteered, pointing to the place beside his. “Where are you?”
“Right next door. The big three-story.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Problem?”
“It’s…big.”
“It is.” He laughed. “But it’s not my house. The man I’m supposed to meet is letting me stay there. My guess is he owns it.”
The man he was meeting, she noted. That made her feel better, though she reminded herself that there was no reason to care one way or another. “It’s just that it blocks some of the late-afternoon light on our back deck. And to my dad especially, it’s a bit of an eyesore.”
“Do you know the owner?”
“I’ve never met him,” she answered. “Why? Don’t you?”
“No. Until a few weeks ago, I’d never heard of him.”
She wanted to ask more, but assumed he was being circumspect for a reason. Scanning the beach, she spotted Scottie sniffing along the dunes up ahead, nearing the steps that led to the walkway and cottage. As usual, he was covered in sand.
Tru slowed, finally coming to a stop when he had reached his steps.
“I guess this is where we part.”
“Thank you again for checking on Scottie. I’m so relieved he’s okay.”
“Me too. Still disappointed by the lack of coffee in this neighborhood, though.” He gave a wry smile.
It had been a long time since she’d had a conversation like this, let alone with a man she’d just met—easy and unforced, without expectation. Realizing she didn’t want it to end just yet, she nodded toward the cottage. “I brewed a pot before I left this morning. Would you like a cup?”
“I would hate to intrude.”
“It’s the least I can do. It’s only me at the cottage, and I’ll probably just
end up throwing the rest of the pot away. Besides, you saved my dog.”
“In that case, I’d appreciate a cup.”
“Come on then,” she said.
She led the way to the steps, then over the walkway to the deck of the cottage. Scottie was already at the gate, tail wagging, and darted for the back door as soon as she opened it. Tru peeked over at the house where he was staying, thinking she was right. It was a bit of an eyesore. The cottage, on the other hand, felt like a home, with white paint and blue shutters, and a planter box filled with flowers. Near the back door stood a wooden table surrounded by five chairs; in front of the windows, a pair of rockers flanked a small weather-beaten table. Though wind and rain and salt had taken their toll, the deck felt positively cozy.
Hope walked to the door. “I’ll get your coffee, but Scottie has to stay on the deck for a minute. I need to towel him off, or I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon sweeping,” she said over her shoulder. “Go ahead and sit. It’ll only take a minute.”
The screen door banged shut behind her, and Tru took a seat at the table. Beyond the railing, the ocean was calm and inviting. Perhaps he would go for a swim later in the afternoon.
Through the window, he was able to see into the kitchen as Hope emerged from around a corner, a towel draped over her shoulder, and pulled two cups from the cabinet. She interested him. That she was beautiful there was no doubt, but it wasn’t simply that. There was an air of vulnerability and loneliness behind her smile, as if she was wrestling with something troubling. Maybe even a few somethings.
He shifted in his seat, reminding himself that it wasn’t his business. They were strangers and he was leaving after the weekend; aside from waving at each other from the back deck over the next few days, this might be the last time he saw or spoke to her.
He heard a tap at the door; through the screen, he saw her standing expectantly, holding two cups. Tru rose from his seat and opened it for her. She scooted around him and set both cups on the table.
“Do you need milk or sugar?”
Every Breath Page 5