Page 1 of Kayak Girl

Chapter 1

ELLE

“What was I thinking?”

A salty sea breeze snuck in through the open window, coaxing my hair into a wild dance as I grappled with the steering wheel. I guided my van into the parking lot of Central Beach. The familiar clunking and sputtering from the engine suddenly seemed louder in the cramped car park. This old van, not just a vehicle, but a keeper of dreams, had become my home a little over a month ago. I’d filled it with my most treasured possessions and waved goodbye to my stable job, my family, and my friends. My hands had been steady on the wheel then. I’d brimmed with confidence, ready to embrace the open road, a year of kayaking along the Atlantic coast, and a chance to feel like I was making a difference in the world. But today, as the morning sun bleached my threadbare leather seats, doubts tiptoed in. Perhaps my mom was right. Maybe I was having a midlife crisis. Could someone even have a midlife crisis at twenty-four?

I came to a bumpy stop in one of the tiny parking spaces in front of the beach. A deep sigh escaped my lips as adrenaline coursed through me. Sweet-talking this bulky vehicle into a tight space was still a challenge. I glanced at the gleaming SUVs flanking me and winced. I shouldn’t have parked here; the space was so constricting that I couldn’t even open my door.

The beach, a lively canvas of activity, extended its warm welcome. Children darted around, tossing a red ball back and forth. Their shrieks and giggles momentarily transported me back to my classroom. I smiled, recalling the boisterous group of four-year-olds I’d had the privilege of teaching this past year. But then I remembered the boogers, the admin, and the difficult parents. Oh yeah, I needed a break from those duties.

Back home in Atlanta, my days had blurred into a relentless cycle of responsibilities, a test of endurance I hadn’t signed up for. This year, though, I’d vowed to inhale deeply the liberating air that only a road trip could provide.

Yet this journey was more than a mere getaway. I ached to leave a real mark on the world, to cast aside the heavy shadows of my family’s drama and carve a path uniquely mine. No more survival mode. I didn’t want to merely exist; I craved the feeling of living up to the person God made me to be, to know that my presence in the world mattered. Hopefully Hilton Head Island held a few of the missing pieces to my puzzling life.

I blew my fringe out of my eyes and twisted my body into a pretzel as I climbed over the headrest. I’d have to exit through the back doors. Desperate to get out of the stuffy van, I started moving through my pre-kayaking routine. After changing into my swim gear, I smeared sunscreen on my face, neck, and arms, being sure to cover my latest mini tattoo with a thick layer of cream.

Last night, I’d Googled the tide schedule for Central Beach, noting that slack tide, with its gentler currents and easier shore entry, would hit at 9:07 am. Now, with only minutes to spare, I scanned the chaos I’d created in my hurried changing and shrugged. The messy van could wait; slack tide would not.

With a gentle pull, I released the small step ladder from where it nestled behind the driver’s seat, a necessary companion for a petite girl like myself.

The back doors of the van let out a weary groan as I swung them open. I hadn’t considered my height when I purchased this beast. The ad described the van as roomy. And when I’d first laid eyes on it, painted in shades of buttery yellow that seemed to capture the very essence of happiness, it hadn’t occurred to me that owning such a hefty vehicle meant embarking on a mini expedition with every use. Climbing in was an adventure, a daily exercise in mountaineering; descending was a major leap of faith.

The ad also described the van as having old-school charm… aka, it was falling apart. But within that weathered charm lay a spirit of tenacity, mirroring my own. Some days I loved this chapter of my life, and others I questioned my sanity. Today was definitely the latter. Oh well. I just needed some time in my kayak to clear my head. After a few hours of paddling, I’d feel excited again.

My transport’s unique appearance garnered attention and inquisitive looks from strangers wherever I went. Add to that picture a skinny girl balanced precariously on top of a stepladder, battling with the unwieldy bulk of her kayak (my technique was not pretty), and you’d think I was the paid entertainment. Every heave and yank to dislodge the kayak from its rooftop perch became a spectacle under their watchful eyes. As I worked, I tried not to let the attention add to my anxiety. Soon, I would be on the open water, inhaling the fresh, briny air, and my soul would be at peace.

At least for a few hours.

Chapter 2

GRAY

I’d seen nothing like it. This larger-than-life yellow van had just pulled into the parking lot. We were playing a game of catch on the beach so that children arriving for summer camp could easily spot us.

“Check out that giant,” my best friend Weston said, as he nudged me with his elbow and nodded in the van’s direction.

“I know. I hope the driver has enough sense to park somewhere else.” But before I had finished speaking, the van started turning into the only free parking spot left in the lot. I cringed as I watched it jerk and jump until it came to an abrupt halt. Weston just laughed and ran to pry the ball out of the clutches of two competitive kids.

A pretty woman with long wavy blonde hair sat in the driver’s seat and stared in our general direction. Curious to see how she’d exit her vehicle with it so tightly wedged, I stared right back. Then, without warning, she folded herself into the space behind the car seat. As she disappeared out of sight, I shook my head and refocused on the kids gathering around us.

June was the hottest time of the year on Hilton Head Island, and I was glad to be outside soaking up the sun. Today was the first official day of our church’s annual beach summer camp. Every year, we hosted a three-week-long day camp for grade school kids, both visitors and locals. As the pastor’s son, I’d been deeply involved in this camp for as long as I could remember. It was hands down my favorite part of the year because we got to teach kids about Jesus and provide a safe space for them to make loads of happy memories.

Several other leaders and I were playing catch with some kids that had arrived early. I wish I could say the kids had my full attention, but since the van had rolled up, I kept glancing in its direction. It was like this woman had some kind of attention-absorbing superpower, and I was just a hapless victim.

Lost in thought, I almost didn’t see the ball coming towards me.

“Get your head in the game!” Weston said, as he sent the ball my way. Thankfully, my muscle memory kicked in and I caught it. Message received. Quit looking at the mystery girl.

He was right. I’d been there, done that. Nine times out of ten, tourists like this mystery woman were just looking for a good time. Was she just passing through town? Moving into town? I shook my head. It didn’t matter; with a van like that, she likely wouldn’t have plans to put down roots anytime soon.

At this stage in my life, having gotten my Airbnb business to the point of thriving, I now hoped to find that special person to settle down with. Emphasis on settling down. No use giving this traveler any of my attention.

Five minutes later, without my permission, my eyes found her again and my jaw dropped. Who was this woman? She was now perched on a ladder, attempting to bring down her kayak. She’d break her neck.

“Hey Wes, please cover for me. I’ll be right back.”

I didn’t wait for a response.

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