by Laura Moore
Perhaps he wasn’t the only one suffering the effects of heightened awareness. The thought made his smile widen. The auditorium’s overhead lights must have been angled just right, because Lily’s eyes went suddenly wide and a flustered expression stole over her.
Quickly averting her gaze from his, she reached for the glass of water placed next to the podium. He watched her take a long sip. Setting the glass back down, she continued. “As I was saying, I’d like for many more of you to know firsthand the wonders that are right in your own backyard, so to speak. With the remaining minutes I have left, let me give you a preview of what lies on the other side of the beach. Remember, though, this is only a glimpse of what makes my job fascinating, exciting, and, above all, incredibly rewarding.
“Marine biologists often work in a team, each person bringing a different specialty or talent to it. The photographer on my current team, Karen Masur, captured the sights you’re about to see. Karen and my research assistant, John Granger, worked together on this film for you. The three of us hope you’ll enjoy it.”
Lily raised her head slightly, focusing her attention to the very rear of the auditorium. “John, if you’d please dim the lights? Karen, when you’re ready?”
Sean glanced to his left. John and Karen were behind the booth that housed the controls for the lighting and electronic system. At Lily’s cue, the lights dimmed to soft blackness. Simultaneously, a large screen descended behind Lily, stopping just above her head. The screen went from white to a kaleidoscope of colors flooding the screen.
And the audience descended into Lily’s world.
As she began to describe the creatures before them, Sean knew from the profound quiet that the students were awed by the magical realm Lily was showing them. She was the perfect guide. As the film played, she was careful to allow them time to absorb the beauty of the image on their own before quietly telling them about the creature or plant they were seeing.
Now they were looking at a speckled maroon sea anemone. In impossibly slow revolutions, the anemone was somersaulting across what Lily identified as the rounded hump of a starlet coral. She explained how the surreal, rolling tumble of the anemone was its only mode of locomotion.
From the agonizingly slow, they went to the lightning quick. A few in the audience gasped in surprise when a moray eel darted from its hiding place, grabbing its unsuspecting prey in its teeth-lined, oversized maw.
On it went, a spectacular display. What they heard equally so. As the film progressed, Lily’s commentary was punctuated by the pulsing beat of music. Its inclusion was a brilliant stroke to a masterful performance. The music provided a bridge between the kids’ everyday world and the new, fantastic one that Lily was introducing.
The climax came with Jim Morrison singing about lighting the night on fire while the screen exploded with coral spawning, sexual fireworks in the night blackened sea. The audience exploded right along with the film, applauding loudly. Sean did the same, filled with pride for Lily.
Whatever conflicting emotions lay between them, Sean couldn’t—wouldn’t—hide his admiration. Lily had done a hell of a job. She’d gone beyond the Career Day talk’s framework to give the audience a glimpse of why they all needed to care about what happened to the marine environment.
Sean had a sudden sense of déjà vu; the first time it had happened was aboard the Tangiers. He was seeing once again what a special, what a giving, what an utterly compelling woman Lily had become. This time the sensation was a thousand times more powerful, for he was on dry land, away from the exotic magic of the sun-dappled sea. Hope flared bright inside him. He wasn’t chasing an illusion after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The students were still applauding. From the podium, Lily could see Sean’s broad smile as he stood clapping— she’d have had to be blindfolded to miss it. That dazzling smile had her insides doing a funny kind of flip-flop. Her lips curled in self-conscious response. While admittedly relieved that the talk had gone well, it was Sean’s obvious approval that made Lily feel as if she’d been awarded a prize.
When the auditorium finally quieted, Lily spoke. “Thank you very much, and thank you for inviting me to speak to you today. But the people who really deserve your applause are my assistants, Karen Masur and John Granger. Karen and John, if you’d please come down?”
As her assistants walked down the center aisle, Lily began to clap, and the audience joined in. Karen blushed with pleasure while John acknowledged the audience with a wave of his hand, like a rock star before a stadium filled with fans.
Lily waited until they were by her side to issue her challenge. For a second, she hesitated, uncertain whether to proceed with her plan. She suspected that as soon as Sean heard it, that warm smile would vanish.
But she needed to see what kind of man Sean was, what kind of mayor he was. The knowledge was suddenly of vital importance—to whom, she refused to admit.
“If you recall, I mentioned earlier that I hoped to encourage more of you to explore what is literally in your own backyard. Before my talk, when I was sitting in the front row, I looked up at the school motto.” Lily pointed to the medallion above her head. “ ‘From the Sea We Learn,’ ” she recited. “Back when I was a student here, I didn’t really grasp how fitting a motto this is for Coral Beach. Now, as a marine biologist, I can assure you that all of us need to learn and understand more about the sea and the riches it holds.”
Lily’s eyes skimmed over the audience, verifying she had its full attention. The time had come for Sean to take a turn in the hot seat. “During my talk earlier, I noticed that among the audience we have not only Mayor McDermott and his very capable assistant, Ms. Roemer, but also the director of Parks and Recreation, Mr. Dave Cullen.” Lily gestured to where Sean, Evelyn, and Dave sat. Her arm extended, she raised it, inviting the three of them to rise.
They did so slowly while the rest of the audience stared openly.
Lily smiled. “In the interest of educating the citizens of Coral Beach, I’d like to propose to Mayor McDermott and Mr. Cullen that the town organize a weekend of scuba diving instruction for its residents.”
At Lily’s suggestion, excited murmurs swept through the auditorium.
Dave, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, whispered a rueful, “Damn. I had a hunch Lily would find a way to retaliate after I suggested you could beat her swimming. Looked like she wanted to pitch me off the boat—and we weren’t anywhere near the shore.”
“Now you begin to understand Lily’s no one to mess with,” Sean replied out of the corner of his mouth. “Can the Parks Department handle an event like this?”
“Yeah, I think we can swing it. Actually it’s a damn fine idea.”
“Good. Set a date ASAP and make sure Lily and the Marine Center receive all the kudos in the publicity release. Uh-oh,” he warned, “here comes Feldron.”
The school principal had rushed up to the podium. He beckoned Sean and Dave to the stage, as well. Resigned, they advanced down the center aisle to join Lily and the others.
The handshaking and polite formalities over, everyone had drifted off the auditorium stage in cordial clumps, still discussing Lily’s proposal for a community scuba diving weekend.
Somehow Lily found herself paired with Sean. In her hand, she clutched an engraved paperweight with the school’s motto etched on its surface. The gift had been presented to her by none other than her old zoology teacher, Mr. Sneel. Amazingly, Mr. Sneel seemed to have shed the curmudgeonly demeanor she remembered so well and become a gray-haired sweetie pie. From his delighted smile one might have thought Lily had been his very favorite student, which had definitely not been the case—Mr. Sneel had been supremely democratic in his dislike of all his students.
Lily wished she could pretend that the lightheadedness she was feeling now was due to lingering shock over Mr. Sneel’s effusive thanks or perhaps to postlecture adrenaline. Unfortunately, however, the source of her dizzy excitement started exactly where Sea
n had his hand wrapped around her elbow. With each step they took as he led her from the auditorium, a sizzling heat spread through her.
Lily knew Sean’s gesture was purely chivalrous, one he doubtless performed unconsciously, thus wholly at odds with the melting warmth it engendered.
“That was a really nice thing you did back there, Lily,” Sean said. “Karen looked ready to burst with pride when those kids started asking questions. Even Granger seemed happy.”
Lily shrugged. The movement caused the back of Sean’s hand to brush the curve of her waist. She forced herself to concentrate, to ignore the tingling fire he’d just ignited. “It was the least I could do,” she replied, pleased her voice sounded fairly normal—the faint huskiness could be from her lecture, after all. “The two of them did a great job with the film. Karen got John to brain-storm with her on the music selection. They ended up pulling an all-nighter.” She’d awakened at four-thirty this morning to find Karen and John sitting in front of her computer—though by that time they’d finished with Karen’s film, and Karen was busy revamping John’s Web site for him.
“Your talk was terrific,” Sean continued. “I’d be willing to wager a lot of those kids are going to pay far closer attention in their biology classes from now on.”
“Perhaps.” She was careful not to shrug again.
“Matter of fact, your talk was such a success, I’ve decided to overlook the nasty trick you pulled.”
Lily’s gaze flew to his. His hazel eyes are so beautiful, she thought, and then swallowed.
“Tell me,” he said. “What would you have done if I’d nixed the community scuba program?”
“I’d have been as disappointed as the rest of the assembly.”
He pulled her to a stop in front of the display case, which lined the hall. Despite his relaxed expression, his eyes sparked with intensity. “So, you’re not . . . disappointed.”
She thought back to how Sean had stepped up to the podium and praised the community scuba diving initiative, announcing that the Parks Department would begin organizing the effort posthaste. As gifted a politician as Sean was, he could have easily side-stepped the idea and avoided committing himself and the town’s resources. But he hadn’t.
“No, I’m not disappointed,” she said simply. “I’m grateful. The townspeople will be, too.”
His smile was like staring into the sun.
Flustered, Lily turned her head and stared blindly at the contents of a display case, the image of Sean’s brilliant smile still shining in her mind’s eye.
“Looking for your old trophies?”
“What?” Lily asked distractedly.
“Swim team plaques. We passed the science awards two cases ago.” Sean pointed. “Right here. Girls’ record holders. There you are. Again and again, and—”
“You can stop now,” Lily interrupted, feeling absurdly self-conscious. Yet her eyes strayed to the plaques nonetheless. Memories welled inside her. They were good memories. She’d loved breaking those records, hitting the electronic timing pad to stop the clock, then looking up into the stands to see her swim coach, Hal Storey, whooping ecstatically.
“Did you know that Hal’s coaching a master’s team these days?”
“I believe Dave mentioned something about it.”
“The practices are at night,” he continued. “People pick and choose according to their schedules. It’s a big group.” He paused. “You’d see a lot of familiar faces.”
“That’d be almost as much fun as running into Stacy Malloy—” Lily could have bitten her foolish, jealous tongue.
Luckily, Sean didn’t notice the slip. “Stacy won’t be anywhere near the pool. I doubt she could swim a hundred meters. No, I meant other people—you know, from school, from swimming. You’d be surprised how many of them ask me what you’re up to.”
“Why do they ask you about me?”
“Maybe because you’ve become a near-celebrity in your field, and have traveled to places and seen things that most of us only dream about.”
“I didn’t mean that.” She brushed the idea of herself as particularly noteworthy aside. “Why do they ask you about me?”
Sean looked at Lily searchingly. She wasn’t fishing, he realized. She didn’t have a bag of flirtatious ploys like Stacy. No, Lily was honestly mystified.
She was so damned gorgeous.
“I suppose it’s because everyone knows how close my mom and yours still are, how our grandmothers practically live at each others’ homes.” Shutting his mouth before he added, And probably because a number of them have guessed that I’ve been crazy about you forever and enjoy tormenting me with unending Lily Banyon questions.
“Oh. That makes sense.”
They continued walking. In the main lobby, Sean finally dropped his hand to sign out at the security desk and unpin his visitor badge from his light gray jacket, waiting as Lily did the same.
On the other side of the high school’s double doors, rain was falling in solid sheets. Sean gripped the dull metal handle to push the door open for Lily. “So, are you going to come to a swim practice, put a smile on Hal’s face?”
Lily shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll make time to visit Hal this week, but I prefer ocean swimming these days.”
Sean looked out at the pouring rain. “In this muck?” His smile turned knowing. “Oh, right. I see.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Why you don’t want to come. It’d be embarrassing to swim with your old coach if you’re no longer . . .” He let the sentence trail off.
“I’m just as fast as I used to be,” she retorted.
“Hey, it’s okay, really,” he said in a soothing tone, one that he knew would infuriate her. He was, after all, blessed with a true talent when it came to pissing off Lily. “Lots of swimmers lose their edge—”
“What time’s practice?” she demanded curtly.
The annoyed glint in her crystalline eyes told Sean all he needed. He had her. “Eight to ten, every night,” he informed her easily. “So, you’ll come?”
Lips pursed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, Lily swept past him, regal as a queen under a drenching rain.
With a grin Sean called after her, “See you later tonight, Lily.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lily’s former coach spotted her from across the width of the fifty-meter pool. Hal Storey was kneeling with a wrench in his hand, tightening the ratchets on the lane lines. “Lily Banyon! Long time no see!” he bellowed, then springing to his feet, he rushed around the perimeter of the pool.
Hal enveloped her in a rib-crushing hug. When he finally released her, he stepped back and inspected her from head to toe.
“My, my, Lily Banyon, all grown up. You’re looking good, really good,” he pronounced, his face creased in pleasure. “It’s good to see you.”
Lily blinked away the sudden moisture in her eyes. “You, too, Hal,” she said, in a voice thick with emotion. “I’d have recognized you anywhere. Still wearing the same old hat,” she teased. It was true; she would have recognized Hal anywhere, even without the ragged Miami University baseball cap. There weren’t that many friendly giants who dressed in Bermuda shorts and beat-up flip-flops, who wore stopwatches about their necks the way others did gold chains, who always had a clipboard at the ready, tucked under a hairy, muscular arm.
“You been doing much swimming, Lily?” he asked, in his typically direct manner.
“Some,” she admitted. “Strictly open water, though. My flip turns are probably rusty.”
“You used to nail ’em like an archer hitting a bull’seye.”
“I wanted to get them right for you, Coach.”
Hal surprised her by blushing. “You always were a good kid, Lily. A real fighter.” He rubbed his hand across a cheek covered with what looked like a five-day growth. “We need to celebrate your return, Lily. I’m going to dig up one of my vintage workouts, give you guys a blast from the past
. You’ll feel right at home, I promise,” he said, winking. He broke off to look around the pool area.
Clustered in small groups, the other swimmers were chatting, others stretching. Nylon swim bags littered the pool deck.
“Hey guys, y’all remember Lily,” Hal called in his booming voice. “Come on over and say hi.” To Lily, he added, “Gotta run to the office for one of my old notebooks. Back in a sec.”
Hal’s words had the swimmers breaking apart and heading over to where Lily stood. She was soon surrounded. Sean hadn’t been exaggerating this afternoon. She recognized many of the faces here—but unlike Stacy Malloy, they seemed genuinely happy to see her. Lily was barraged with questions about her job at the Marine Center, the reef study, how long she planned to be in the area, whether she’d be attending swim practices regularly.
Eric Sullivan, who’d sat behind Lily in calculus class, spoke up. “By the way, Lily, in case we’re all too busy moaning and groaning at the end of practice, we have a long-standing tradition on this team. A bunch of us head over to the Rusted Keel for a couple beers and a round of darts. That is, if our arms aren’t too tired to throw ’em. Even on the nights you’re too busy to swim, drop by for a brew. It’s always fun.”
Lily smiled. “Thanks, Eric.” Had Eric Sullivan ever said more than five words to her before?
Sean walked up to the group surrounding Lily in time to hear Eric say, “So, if you feel like some liquid calories after workout, join us. I can give you a lift.”
Jesus, Sullivan was all but asking Lily out on a date, Sean fumed. He frowned, trying to remember whether Lily had ever liked Eric back in high school, and battling the jealousy spreading inside him. He was tempted to haul Sullivan over to the bleachers and explain a few basic facts. Number one being that Eric was welcome to any woman in the world but Lily.
Eric’s voice floated past Lily, unheeded. Sean had arrived. He’d changed into wheat-colored khakis and a black polo shirt, his gear bag slung over his shoulder. A frown marred his face. Was he annoyed that she’d decided to come to a practice? Lily asked herself, filled with sudden uncertainty.