Something to Treasure

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Something to Treasure Page 13

by Virginia McCullough


  After exchanging a quick goodbye hug with Lark, Dawn headed toward home with her mind still on Jerrod. Who was she kidding? Of course she liked him. A lot. It was true what she’d told Lark about wanting a man with depth. Jerrod was certainly that, and he’d appealed to her from the first day she’d met him in the lobby of the hotel. That day his smile seemed like a rare reward for something—she just wasn’t sure what.

  She thought ahead to the Art for Life fund-raiser and the dress she’d picked out of a crowded rack of new summer clothes. Sleeveless and fitted, it fell just above the knee. Simple, elegant, expensive—and not on sale. She loved good clothes, but almost always waited for a bargain. This time, maybe not. Why was she waiting to buy the perfect dress? Dawn made a left turn at the next corner and drove onto the street that would take her to Rock Hill and the boutique where a cocktail dress the color of peaches was waiting for her to come and whisk it away.

  Dawn sighed. Treating herself to a new dress was fun and easy. But innocent and irrelevant or not, Carrie’s offhand question wasn’t so easy to laugh off.

  * * *

  WYATT WAS EVERY bit as capable as he was of delivering the tour script with flair. She kept the passengers entertained so skillfully that for the last couple of years, Jerrod often asked her to take on that role. His passengers sure took to her. And why not? Not only was she friendly, she looked the part of being more comfortable on the water than behind a desk. With her short, practical haircut and a sturdy, petite frame, Jerrod often thought of Olympic swimmers or platform divers. Rob could have done the tour narration, too, but he was shyer than he first seemed and preferred to hide out in the wheelhouse.

  Lately, some of Jerrod’s best hours were spent hanging out in his office alone while Wyatt and Rob did routine maintenance on the boats or took an afternoon off. Taking advantage of the solitude, he completed paperwork, worked on presentations or pored over his history books. On some days, he took over for Melody and he and Carrie went out for lunch or to the park. He’d had a couple of diving excursions cancelled at the last minute, something that usually left him grumpy. But he’d salvaged his day by taking Carrie to the Bean Grinder.

  Now, waiting for Dawn to arrive for a day tour, Jerrod had another passing thought about how she sometimes reminded him of Augusta, but not in the sad way he might have assumed. Maybe it was like playing a home video of images that fit together into a treasure box of their life. A snippet of a remembered day when Augusta patiently taught Dabny to tie her sneakers was as vivid now as the day it happened. Caught on camera. Or maybe it was her good-natured laughter when Carrie clamped her lips together and refused to eat the vegetables Augusta pureed into baby food herself. Didn’t Dawn’s eyes soften when she spoke to her son? Or even to Carrie? Wasn’t Dawn always switching hats, smoothly going from mom to professional and back again? “Jerrod?”

  He started at the sound of his name. “Yes? I was...uh, lost in my thoughts, I guess. What do you need, Rob?”

  “Just the pre-boarding count. We have ten confirmed and paid. Not including Dawn.”

  “Ten.” His tone was flat. “Okay, then, it’s a go. Nelson told me it really picks up around here after the Fourth of July. Zeke over at the marine store said the same thing.”

  “I’ll bet it does,” Rob said. “There haven’t been many warm days.”

  Jerrod looked up at the scattered clouds in the sky. “I hope this weather lasts for the next few hours. This is the first time Dawn will see our show.” He’d hoped for a full boat when Dawn was aboard. More people usually meant a festive, party-like atmosphere.

  “Here comes Dawn,” Rob said. “In cool shades and big straw hat. No sun damage for her.”

  “She’s so fair-skinned she probably burns pretty easily,” Jerrod said, realizing as soon as the words left his mouth he’d taken Rob way too seriously.

  “Ahoy, Lucy Bee,” she called out. “Permission to come aboard and all that.”

  “Let’s see. Are you a dangerous pirate after our gold?” Rob joked.

  Dawn held up her phone as she stepped onto the deck and down the two stairs into the passenger well. “No, I’m only dangerous with my phone camera. I can’t resist and I never know which shots will be perfect for your blog or your website.”

  “You’re the first to arrive,” Jerrod said. He twisted his mouth in a show of disgust. “Not that we’re overrun today.”

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s early in the season.” She adjusted her sunglasses and stared out at the lake.

  That didn’t make him feel any better. It was a good thing that he’d decided to leave the Key West crew in place and run the dives through the summer. That might end up carrying this new location, and he’d invested heavily in it. No telling when—or if—the effort would pay off. But the slow start was on him. He’d barely allowed time to place the first ad in the first paper.

  Wyatt led Dawn into the space behind the ladder-like companionway to the wheelhouse and answered her questions about their itinerary.

  Leaving Wyatt with Dawn, Jerrod busied himself checking the bins for life vests, although he knew Rob had already handled that job. But he’d been jumpy all morning knowing Dawn would be coming along. Only when he saw a group of six people arriving could he relax and focus on what he did best. Even Augusta used to say he was a good host.

  He stepped off the Lucy Bee onto the dock. “You’re here for the tour?” he asked just to confirm they weren’t tourists randomly wandering the docks.

  “We are,” a woman flanked by two children said. “We’ve got a couple of kids eager to go for a boat ride.”

  “Then you came to the right place. Follow me.” When he stepped back on the boat he spotted Dawn holding up her phone to catch the scene of the family of four and two grandparents coming aboard. She’d have them ready to post on his blog, whenever he managed to get it underway.

  She’d lobbied for blogging as a way to tie together the two parts of his business, tours and dives, and even had a name for it: “Something to Treasure.”

  Jerrod soon greeted the remaining four pre-signed guests and two additional people who signed up at the dock. The tour business equivalent of “walk-ins.” Wyatt got their information, processed a credit card from her phone, and then, with Rob in the wheelhouse, they were off.

  As if she were a regular guest, Dawn took a seat at the end of one of the side benches and pulled a small notebook out of another blazer pocket. So, she could be separated from that humungous shoulder bag, at least for a few hours, anyway. Maybe she would simply relax and enjoy the tour.

  They soon left Two Moon Bay behind and headed out to the site of the Franklin Stone. “For many years, my primary business has been running diving excursions. I’ve taken people out to discover the treasures that exist beneath the surface of the ocean, and now the Great Lakes,” Jerrod said. “And though diving isn’t for everyone, a day spent on the water always offers a unique experience in its way. The trip you take today won’t be an exact duplicate of the trip we took a few days ago and it won’t be the same as one a few days from now.”

  Looking at the two kids on the tour, he took them to be in that middle part of childhood, around age ten or eleven. “Why do you think that is?” Jerrod asked.

  “It could rain that day.” The girl of the pair spoke in a voice so earnest it sent a ripple of light laughter through the group.

  “Right you are,” Jerrod responded quickly. “Weather changes everything.” He pointed to the shore. “All the landmarks look different even when the sun disappears behind the clouds.” He asked her name.

  “Bonnie.” She used her thumb to point to her brother. “He’s Mason. He’s almost ten. I’m eleven.”

  He’d always enjoyed talking to kids old enough to soak in information, but still not so self-conscious they were afraid to speak up. Keeping his focus on Bonnie and Mason, he said, “Not so long ago, the five Great
Lakes were like superhighways. They brought people coal to heat their houses, food to cook, and machinery to build things. They even shipped Christmas trees to cities so folks could have them in their houses. One of those ships left Michigan but never showed up in Chicago with its load of trees. Even today no one knows what happened to it. They call it a ghost ship.”

  He glanced at Dawn, amused that she was listening and not scribbling notes.

  When they reached the site of the sunken freighter, he filled in the history and on his computer, clicked on the grainy photo of the ship and the newspaper accounts of it sinking. All eyes went to the projected image on the mounted TV screen, and Mason’s hand shot up.

  “I like questions,” Jerrod said. “Go ahead.”

  “What was inside the ship when it went down?”

  “Coal. It was loaded with coal and headed for Chicago.”

  “Where did all the coal go?” Bonnie asked.

  “When I take people diving, we can see pieces of coal on the bottom, so some of it is still there.” Jerrod brought up the image of the lake bottom with what looked like black clusters and dots strewn about.

  From there, a couple of the adults tossed out questions as Rob motored away and headed up the coastline toward Sturgeon Bay. He pointed out towns and piers and prominent steeples of old and historic churches whose names he’d learned himself only weeks ago. His dry runs had paid off. He also mentioned more shipwrecks when they passed near various sites. In the distance he saw a boat about the size of Wind Spray and explained the red-and-white flag indicated where diving was going on at other shipwreck sites, some more famous and thoroughly explored than others. His own presentation reinforced his belief that divers could spend a lifetime exploring and documenting all the ignored shipwrecks in Lake Michigan alone.

  “Hundreds of ships were built for the military during World War II, and many were built here in Sturgeon Bay,” he said, before filling in more detail. They soon docked Lucy Bee at the Jacobson Marina, their designated lunch stop on full-day tours. That day, it was warm enough to eat at a long table on the outdoor deck. Wyatt and Rob led the guests to the restaurant, but Dawn hung back.

  “This is so much more than I expected,” she said, her features animated and her eyes more light brown than green. “Now I’m doubly glad you want me to keep scheduling presentations and interviews. You’re good at this.”

  She had no idea how much it meant to hear that coming from her. But a part of him winced against that thought, more personal than professional. He had a really hard time separating himself from Dawn on so many levels. If he thought about the business, she came to mind; if he thought about Carrie, she came to mind; if he thought about walking on a local trail or trying a restaurant, she popped into his mind again. And it could never work between them. He was still haunted by the past. His memories were like ghosts. They would always get in the way.

  He dipped one shoulder to the side. “Nice to see you’re not listing to port with that heavy handbag hanging on your shoulder.”

  Laughing, she lifted her arms to the side and flapped them like they were wings. “And doesn’t it feel great to be free of it for a day.” She flicked her hand toward the harbor where motor yachts and sailboats were heading either out to the lake or the other way to the bay side of the peninsula. Small runabouts and fishing boats went up and down the channel. “It’s a work day, too. How lucky can I be?”

  His heart sank a little hearing her bring work into it, but that was foolish. She wasn’t riding along just for the fun of it. “Let’s get some lunch.” He couldn’t resist adding, “We need a break from all this grueling, backbreaking labor.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, point taken.”

  Teasing her was such fun. It was new for him to be lighthearted and able to joke around a little. When had that last happened?

  Once seated on the deck, Jerrod gave his guests a fuller explanation of the reasons Dawn was aboard that day.

  “This is my first trip on Lucy Bee with Jerrod, Wyatt and Rob,” she said. “I took a few photos I’d like to have posted on the website, but I’ll only do that with your permission. I’ll show them to you first.”

  Mason chimed in right away. “We don’t mind.” He looked at his parents and Bonnie. “Do we?”

  “I think we can handle it,” the mom said.

  “We’ll include the whole family,” Jerrod said.

  Having Dawn to interact with put him even more at ease.

  Jerrod found himself in a conversation with the grandpa of the family group about the man’s childhood on a Michigan coastal town. Swapping stories of being kids building bonfires on the beaches was the type of small talk he could handle.

  On the rest of the tour, Dawn alternated between taking some notes and talking with the guests, specifically asking what had made them sign up. How had they heard about the tour, and what had lured them into making a reservation? As he listened in, he learned his outreach methods all played in. He looked on as Dawn jotted down their answers.

  When they docked Lucy Bee he thanked the guests for coming, and the small group broke into applause. When he lined up with Wyatt and Rob to say goodbye to their guests, he spent a couple of extra minutes with the kids.

  “Seems like you enjoyed yourselves,” he said, “and now you have things to write about on those essays you’ll be assigned when school starts.”

  “I’m going to write a story about diving to the wreck,” Mason said. “I remember what the picture looks like.”

  Why that touched him he couldn’t say. “Why don’t I send a copy of that picture? Then you’ll have it to study when you write your story.”

  The boy’s expression showed his pleasure—and surprise. He nodded vigorously, and Jerrod said he’d send it by email to his mom or dad.

  “Probably my dad,” he said. “He checks his phone even more than my mom.”

  “It’s a deal, then.”

  Within a few minutes they’d finished up and he stood with Dawn while Rob and Wyatt went through the routine cleanup.

  “So what did you learn from your questions? Anything important?”

  She nodded. “Mostly good news about how they found you and the business. Another positive, they believed they got more than their money’s worth.”

  “I can’t complain about that response,” Jerrod said.

  “It’s a small sample. But all of the passengers found the photo of the Lucy Bee with the three of you very appealing. So, you and your crew are winners. But we already knew that.”

  He followed Dawn off the boat and they walked toward the parking lot. “You’ll enjoy a dive just as much. We’re taking new video all the time to get the kind of clips you want for the website.”

  “Good, good,” she said, taking a few steps toward her car. “We can talk about that later. So, I’ll see you at the fund-raiser next Friday. Don’t forget.”

  She didn’t wait for a response but mumbled something about needing to be on her way, and a minute later, he was watching her pull her car onto the street. Going into his office, he couldn’t shake the sense she’d been a little too eager to get away.

  Chapter Ten

  WAS SHE ACTUALLY carrying a clipboard? Yes, and she was wearing a dress the color of apricots—or maybe peaches. Dawn had the clipboard tucked in the crook of her arm. Lost in her own world, or so it seemed to Jerrod, she was studying side-by-side buffet tables.

  Smiling to himself when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, he anticipated her self-mocking complaints about the occasion demanding not only a dress, but high heels, too. But at the moment, with her teal reading glasses in place, she appeared preoccupied with her lists or whatever was on those pages, while his attention was fixed on how incredible she looked. She probably smelled like vanilla or maybe spring rain. The other night, her hair had given off the distracting aroma of ginger or
cinnamon.

  Forcing himself to face the truth, it scared him to think how often he found himself watching her. Doing ordinary things like scribbling furiously fast in her notebook, or observing her way of focusing all her attention on the person she was talking to. Who wouldn’t enjoy seeing how she treated Carrie and other kids not as nuisances, but showed they mattered?

  He closed his eyes as if that would block his memory of holding her against him for those fleeting seconds. Now, he looked on as she reached out with her free hand to gently adjust a couple of flowers in a vase.

  Useless observations, feelings that could go nowhere. You would do nothing but disappoint her. She wants children, and you can barely do right by your one child.

  Jerrod had walked over to the yacht club, arriving early. The shingled white building had long narrow windows with blue-and-white stained-glass fan-shaped transoms. So much of Two Moon Bay had been built in a more modest time, but this building was new and spoke of a town on the rise. Rather than coming inside from the lot, which was starting to fill up with cars, he’d walked to the room-size verandah in the front and looked at the view on the balmy night before entering the club.

  Standing just inside the double doors, he’d found a vantage point where, at least for the moment, he could stand back and observe Dawn doing her work for the event.

  Sooner or later, Dawn was sure to sense she was being watched, so he stepped into the room. “Hello,” he called out as he took a few steps to approach her.

  She glanced up and looked over her glasses. His gut jolted just a little at the way her face lit up.

  “Your big night has arrived. You look...uh, ready.” He’d almost used a different word. Gorgeous had come to mind. Her subtle frown told him she thought it odd he’d stumbled over such an ordinary word.

  “I am ready—we are, I should say. It took a ton of volunteers to make this happen. The Half Moon Café crew pulled up to the side door of the kitchen a few minutes ago, so I wanted to be sure the centerpieces were in place.”

 

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