The Summer Girls

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, what do you do for a living? How’s that for starters?”

  “Classic,” he replied. “I’m with NOAA.”

  “The National Ocean . . .” She trailed off, not knowing the correct name.

  “Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration,” he finished for her.

  She cocked her head as she looked at his face, considering. “What area? Oceans, water, reefs? Wait, are you a weatherman?”

  “Would it surprise you if I was?”

  She chuckled. “A little.”

  “Dolphins,” he said.

  Carson’s smile disappeared and she was suddenly alert. “What about dolphins?”

  He looked slightly perplexed at her reaction. “I work with cetaceans. Tursiops truncatus, to be specific. Atlantic bottlenose. Our locals.”

  Carson sat forward and turned to face him, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “What do you do?” she asked.

  He took a long breath and crossed his arms. “Well, actually I do a little bit of everything. My primary work is research on the effects of environmental contaminants, emerging diseases, and stressors on the health of marine mammals. That’s a mouthful to say I study dolphins—their health and their habitat. There’s a lot to do and not enough time. Or money.”

  “So you’re a biologist?”

  “That’s right. I have my Ph.D. in molecular marine biology.”

  She didn’t respond. She couldn’t quite digest that her friendly kiteboarding buddy was also a doctor—of dolphins, no less. Mr. Predictable should have been Dr. Predictable.

  “Are you interested in dolphins?” he asked her.

  Carson didn’t know where to begin. “Yes,” she blurted. “Very much. Now, anyway.”

  “Why now?”

  She waved her hand. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time, if you do.”

  Carson told him about the shark. Even on this fourth telling of the story she felt the same sickening sensations she had when she stared into the shark’s deathly eye and felt the girth of the sandpaper-rough body when it bumped her. She’d never forget that sense of terror. Blake went very still and his brows furrowed as he hung on every word.

  “That’s a pretty amazing story. I’ve heard of incidents where dolphins protect swimmers, of course. They’re well documented. But I’ve never seen it happen.”

  “Exactly. It’s kind of like a near-death experience. It’s cool to hear about, but when it happens to you, not only do you never doubt they exist, but it’s life-changing.”

  “I guess it would be. To be honest, I’m kind of jealous.”

  Carson appreciated that he was taking her story seriously. She’d have been crushed if he’d laughed it off as her imagination or flatly disbelieved her.

  “What kind of a shark was it?”

  “A bull shark.”

  “Those guys can be bullies.”

  “This one was. It came soaring out of the water like some bullet, all spinning. Then it belly-flopped onto the ocean, making this huge slapping sound and waves.”

  “That’s a threatening gesture,” he pointed out. “A warning to the other fish. Even still, shark aggression to humans doesn’t happen often. I get really pissed by those TV shows showing”—he lifted his hands to make a threatening gesture and lowered his voice like a bogeyman—“shark attacks. It’s all marketing and the sharks get a bad rap. Most of the accidents with sharks in our waters are just that—accidents. A case of mistaken identity. That water is murky. And in your case, the shape of the surfboard might have resembled a turtle or a seal, both common prey. You weren’t wearing any flashy jewelry in the water?”

  “God, no. I’ve been surfing all my life. I know better.”

  “We call this kind of attack a hit-and-run. Once the shark figures out the swimmer is too big or not part of his diet, he swims off. At most there’d be a single slash.”

  “Great,” Carson said with a roll of the eyes.

  “Better than a bite.”

  She shuddered at the thought of even a scrape from the massive teeth she’d seen. “This shark meant business. I could feel it in my gut.”

  He paused. “You said you got bumped?”

  She nodded.

  He pursed his lips. “A bump represents serious hunting. We call this a bump-and-bite. The shark circles the prey, then bumps the victim prior to an actual attack.” He rubbed his jaw. “In thinking more about what happened to you—you’re a lucky girl. Sounds like you were caught in a feeding frenzy. That dolphin might well have saved you from a bite.”

  “I know,” she said slowly, her eyes wide. “I’m so grateful. I want to do something.”

  “Do something?”

  “To help. Volunteer . . . something.” She kicked a pebble with her foot. “You couldn’t think of something I could do?”

  His smile came, slow, thoughtful. “I think I can. I do an assessment of the resident dolphins every month. We take out our boat and journey all along the waterways where pods hang out. Would you like to come along?”

  She couldn’t contain her excitement. “Yes!”

  Blake looked at his wristwatch. “Damn. It’s late. I have to run.”

  “I should go, too,” Carson said, swallowing the thousands of questions on the tip of her tongue. In fact, she could have sat there with him in that beautiful park for hours more. But he was late and in a hurry.

  Blake rose to stand and immediately Hobbs was on his feet, eyes anxiously focused on his master. Blake punched at his phone, checking his calendar. “We’re scheduled to take the boat this month.” He looked up. “It’ll take all day. Can you get off work?”

  “I’ll try. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Good. I’ll call you with the details.”

  “Okay,” she said, feeling more excited about this boat trip than she had about anything in a very long time. Was it fate that Blake was involved with dolphins? Another sign?

  Blake offered her a final smile and a parting wave. “Okay then. I’ve got your number.”

  She returned the smile and the wave, then watched him walk off at a fast clip, Hobbs trotting at his heels. Carson reached down for her purse, then ambled slowly along the park back to her golf cart. Oh yes, she thought to herself, swinging her arm. Blake Legare most certainly did have her number.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Carson arrived at the beach for her kiteboarding lesson. Her body was well primed and well fed and she felt confident with Blake as her teacher. She was ready to hit the water.

  She wasn’t prepared for the fact that she’d spend the day with a trainer kite on the beach.

  “I don’t need a trainer kite,” Carson complained to Blake as they walked along the beach to a quiet corner. She notched her chin up in defiance. “I’ve done a lot of surfing. How much harder can it be?”

  “Listen up, Carson,” Blake told her in a firm voice. “Kiting is more about controlling the air than surfing the water. Learning to control the kite is the first step. It’s major. Plus, kites are very expensive when compared to trainer kites.”

  “If it’s just about the money, I—”

  Blake’s face drew tight and his brows furrowed in annoyance. “When it comes to teaching kiteboarding, Carson, I’m not going to fool around. Kiteboarding is an extreme sport and potentially dangerous. Your surfing experience will be a bonus, but not at all enough to get you airborne safely. If you didn’t know what you were doing, you could seriously hurt not only yourself, but others out there on the water. And even here on the beach. Those kites have a lot of power and you first have to learn how to harness it and control it. So we’re going to practice on land today with a smaller kite. Okay?”

  Blake’s eyes flashed and the way he said okay was preemptive. He wasn’t about to tolerate any more complaints. He continued. “Then we’ll progress to other skills. When you master those steps, then, and only then, will I let you go out on the water.” He p
aused. “With me.”

  Figuring resistance was futile at this point, Carson swallowed her pride and nodded in compliance.

  Blake stepped closer, put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  It was a brief kiss, hardly passionate, but it was disarming. Carson suddenly understood what it meant to have the wind go out of one’s sails.

  Blake took her out to the beach every day there was wind, and each day she lost a bit more of her anxiety about going back into the ocean. By the end of the week, she was begging Blake to go in. Finally, he declared her ready for the water.

  On the big day, they walked side by side to a quiet section of the beach, away from others. Carson felt the anticipation thrumming in her veins. Blake was her assistant for the launch. After they’d pumped air into the kite, she walked several yards away in the harness while he straightened out the long lines to the kite.

  “Gear’s ready. You ready?” he called out.

  Carson felt her heart pump wildly in her chest. She froze in the harness, unable to respond.

  “Carson?” Blake called again. When she didn’t reply, he set down her kite and trotted to her side.

  “You okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

  Carson swallowed hard and shook her head. “I’m scared,” she croaked out.

  “Okay,” Blake responded, his tone annoyingly like a therapist’s, but reassuring nonetheless. He bent lower at the knees so he could gaze into her eyes straight on. “About what? Getting hurt?”

  She nodded.

  “You’ve trained for this. You’re ready. And I’ll be right beside you.”

  Carson shook her head again, trying to formulate her fears into words. “I keep seeing that shark.”

  Blake sighed and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was kiting in Breach Inlet and came down smack on the head of a shark?” She heard his laugh resonate in his chest. “I scared the shark more than it scared me, I promise you. But I just shifted my kite and in the next second I was airborne. That’s what rocks about kite surfing. You ride the wind out there. That’s what it’s all about. You jump up, catch air, maybe grab the board, then crash to the sea. You were made for this sport, Carson. Go on out there and get stoked.”

  She felt a surge of adrenaline, and gritting her teeth, she nodded.

  Blake trotted back to adjust the long lines that led from her harness to the bright yellow and black kite. Carson held on to her control bar and focused on the half-moon-shaped kite bobbing at the end of the line. On his count, they moved in tandem toward the water; then he lifted the kite high into the air, called out the signal, and let go.

  Once the wind hit the kite, Carson felt the strong pull toward the ocean. She gripped the bar, leaned back, and felt a tremendous gust of power. In the time it took to suck in a breath, she was skimming across the tips of the waves, headed out to sea, the pilot of a single wing! It was intoxicating. More thrilling than anything she’d experienced on a board before.

  Far out from shore, Carson felt secure with her wingman out there with her. Dragging her butt against the waves, Carson was reminded that she was still a beginner. Whenever she lost wind and collapsed into the water, Blake was right there to help her back up. The reputation of Charleston as the city of manners extended to Sullivan’s Island. The riders at Station 28 were a kindly group—and forgiving.

  In celebration of her first day on the water, Blake had invited his cousin and Carson’s old surfing buddy Ethan to join them. Ethan’s wife, Toy, and their children formed her cheering squad, whooping and calling out her name whenever she drew close to shore. Before too long Carson called it a day and glided into shore. She collapsed on her towel, elated but exhausted.

  “My arms feel like rubber,” she moaned.

  “You did real good out there,” Blake told her. “For a rookie.”

  Carson peeked out from the hand covering her eyes from the sun. “I thought you were going to say for a girl.”

  “I’m not that stupid,” Blake said with a laugh.

  “Good call,” Ethan teased.

  “There aren’t hardly any girls out there,” Toy added. “I’m glad to see you represent our sex. Woot, woot,” she called out, rolling her arm in the air.

  Carson really liked Toy Legare. She was cute in a Christie Brinkley kind of way, all wild blond hair and curves. She wore a modest, one-piece black swimsuit and was attentive to her children, who were busy building a sand castle a few feet away.

  Ethan and Blake grabbed the gear and took their turn to go out for some serious kite surfing. Carson and Toy sat against the beach chairs and watched from their island on the sand as the two men sprinted to the water.

  “Those two are just kids when they’re near the water,” Toy said, slathering suntan lotion on her arms.

  “They look more like brothers than cousins,” Carson said, watching them head to the sea. Both men were tall and lanky, had brown eyes and heads of dark curls. But it was more than just looks. The way they moved, the swagger of their hips, the sinewy arms. “Maybe even twins.”

  “A lot of the boys in that family have that brown curly hair. But those two really are like peas and carrots,” Toy replied. “Their mamas used to claim they each had gained another son, they were at each other’s houses so much.”

  “It’s interesting that they went into the same line of work.”

  “Marine biology?” Toy asked. “Not so surprising. They’re both water bugs. Blake’s working with dolphins and Ethan works for the SC Aquarium.” She added with a smug smile, “With me.” Toy applied lotion to her legs. “Ethan’s in charge of the big tank, so he’s into fish of all kinds.” She laughed lightly. “Me, I’m all about sea turtles.” She handed the tube of lotion to Carson, then leaned back, pressing her palms on the towel as she faced the sky, eyes closed.

  Carson knew that Toy was being modest. She was the director of the sea turtle hospital at the aquarium, an impressive and high-profile position.

  “How long have you been married?” Carson asked her.

  “Oh, gosh, it’s got to be seven years already. Goes fast.”

  Carson looked over to the two children playing in the sand. The little boy couldn’t have been older than six. But the girl, even though she was petite, had to be double that.

  Toy opened one eye and followed Carson’s gaze. A crooked grin eased across her face. “I know what you’re thinking. That’s my little girl, Lovie. She’s my daughter from before we got married. Ethan’s her daddy in all ways that count, though. He’s a great father. You know,” she said coyly, “Blake will be a good family man like Ethan, too.”

  Carson squeezed some lotion onto her arms. “Why hasn’t Blake married yet? I’d expected he’d be snatched up by now.”

  “It’s not for lack of girls trying, let me tell you!” Toy said with a laugh. “I don’t know. He traveled around a lot with his work. You never saw a mama so happy to see her baby come home as Linda Legare was when Blake announced he was going to study here with NOAA. Girls started dropping by the house like flies on a sugar cube. He dated around, of course. There was one girl we thought might be the one, but they broke up last year.” She leaned in closer. “I was glad. She was pretty, but she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean.”

  Carson laughed and was secretly pleased to hear this. She could well imagine that Blake would eventually grow bored with someone who was not well-read.

  Toy continued. “Blake says he’s just waiting for the right one.” Her eyes pinned Carson with a tease. “Maybe he found her.”

  Even knowing it was a tease made in jest, Carson was annoyed. She handed the tube of lotion back to Toy. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Blake and I are just friends.”

  “Just sayin’,” Toy said with a smirk. “Besides, you’ve already been preapproved by Ethan. Be right back.” Toy rose and went to sit beside her children at the sa
nd castle. The little girl silently submitted to the slathering of lotion over her body, but predictably the boy groused and tried to squirm away. Toy was quick and efficient, and in a flash her two young ones were coated in the thick white lotion.

  “Those two keep me busier than a moth in a mitten. Want some water?” Toy asked, wiping the lotion off her hands on a separate towel. She pulled a large thermos out from her bag.

  “Love some,” Carson replied, helping her with the four cups. She marveled at Toy’s mothering. Her enthusiasm for her children and Ethan, for life, hummed around her, creating a cool and confident aura.

  Toy poured cold water into the red plastic cups, then screwed the top back on the thermos and put it back into her enormous beach bag. She rummaged through it and extracted a plastic container. Opening it, she set out crackers and cut celery and carrots. In another bag were sugar cookies. These she carried to the children, along with cups of water. “Don’t you throw those cups away,” she ordered.

  “I don’t use plastic bottles anymore,” Toy explained to Carson. “When you’ve pulled out as much plastic from a turtle’s belly as I have, you learn to not use plastic bags, bottles, or whatever.”

  “You are an amazing mother,” Carson told her.

  Toy’s face lit up. “Thanks. If you knew my mother, you’d know how much that means to me.”

  “Did you always know you wanted to be a mother?”

  “Oh, Lord no,” Toy said, putting on her head a navy cap emblazoned with the South Carolina Aquarium logo. “I was a mother before I was old enough to even wonder about it. I had little Lovie when I was nineteen. Her father was a no-good scoundrel. But even being with him was better than being with my mother.”

  Carson realized she’d met someone whose childhood was probably worse than her own.

  “But once I looked into Lovie’s eyes”—Toy’s own eyes took on a wistful expression—“I knew I was home. That’s what I always wanted, you see. A home. Course, then I met Ethan and that was that.” She looked out at the water and tracked her man’s ride on the waves. “Will you look at him,” she said, her face a vision of infatuation. “He’s just showing off for us.” She turned to Carson. “And it turns me on like nobody’s business.”