Page 84 of Second Tide's the Charm
“Oh yeah?” My pulse is still racing, but her calm in the face of this storm is beginning to settle me. Except, when her eyes travel in a slow dip along my body, my heart rate picks up again. “What do you have in mind?”
Raising up on tiptoes, she drops her voice to a sultry whisper. “I’ve been dying to take your kayaks out on the river since day one.” She lowers herself back down, rosy lips curved in a teasing smile. “Why, what were you thinking?”
Chuckling, I pull her in for a quick kiss, then she slings an arm around my waist, and I joke with her as we make our way back toward the house. But worry still churns in my gut. As much as I love having her at work, the longer she’s with us, the more chances of a repeat of today, and that’s not something I can stomach.
Today is our first on-camera dive, and the timing could not be worse. I had to log off social media for a couple days because I was too tempted to reply to the trolls. The only thing keeping me from pulling the plug was our commitment to the group of researchers we’re assisting.
We decided deleting the original comment would just stir up more controversy, but Marissa’s been keeping up with any ugly comments, and things seem to be dying down, just like Hope thought. She assures me she’s fine, but when Gabe started explaining how the GoPros would work for today’s dive, she seemed shook.
We’re riding along with the crew from the conservation group on a charter boat to the acoustic receiver site. Marissa asked if I’d stay topside to narrate so she could dive with the others. She always claims I’m the face of the operation, but the truth is she hates being left out of the action. I don’t relish it either. Hanging back means I have no control over what goes on beneath the waves, and with the mean-spirited comments about Hope and the failed funding, I already feel helpless.
They’ll all be wearing cameras, but we won’t be livestreaming, even though Gabe’s been pushing for it. Too many factors to risk it just for extra views. Working in the ocean, there’s so little we can control, like currents and the weather, that it’s important to focus on what we can—our equipment, proper dive procedures, and our reason for filming, which is to engage and inform, not rack up followers.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep due to what happened with Hope, but a lingering sense of unease permeates the air, like a storm is brewing, even though the sky is dotted with fleecy cumulus clouds. As we near the coordinates of the acoustic receiver, I take the opportunity to stoop down and check the tank hoses again.
Gabe is chatting with the other scientists, and he angles a questioning look my way. We did all our checks back at the marina, and they’ll do another pre-dive, so he must be wondering if something’s up. I offer a tight smile and stand, not wanting my nerves to rub off on him.
Making my way to the stern, I take a seat by Hope. Between the trolling incident and her interview, we haven’t had much alone time together. She’s got her wetsuit zipped. “Too bad you can’t dive with us.”
“We’ll have to schedule a trip out ourselves soon.”
“Oh, good idea.” She leans in like she’s going to kiss me, but at the last minute, bends to adjust her flipper. “Getting too comfortable,” she says under her breath. “Forgot it’s not just our team today.”
I know the feeling. Now we’re officially together again, it’s easy to forget to keep our distance. “Just make sure you stay alert during the dive.”
She gives me an odd look, and I itch the side of my neck, irritated I forgot to put my hair up with the wind today. “Sorry. I’m just on edge after what happened. And this is our first time doing something like this. Not to mention Roger isn’t a fan.” My leg is bouncing, and Hope presses her knee to mine, quick and light.
“Hey,” she says, voice low. “This is exciting. I don’t have to talk. I get to do some science, and I might even see a shark down there. I think you’re just upset because you have the boring job.”
“That too.” This time my smile is genuine. “But I’m excited for you. Any word about the internship?” She only had her interview yesterday, but the committee said to expect a response within a few days.
“Not yet. Good thing we don’t have service out here. Stops me from refreshing my email.” Standing, she makes her way to where the others are finishing their preparations. Everyone shoulders into their tanks, and I’m happy to see the other group in good spirits about being filmed.
“We’re looking forward to our fifteen minutes of fame,” Dennis, one of the researchers, says. Turns out despite their supervisor’s hesitancy, the rest of the team is enthusiastic about appearing on our channel. They did an awesome job during the short interviews we conducted before setting out.
“Or is it fifteen seconds these days?” He laughs. “Whichever it is, I’m looking forward to being able to tell my family I’m on TV.”
The other guy, Harry, elbows him. “It’s not TV, it’s the internet.”
“And isn’t internet how we get all our streaming these days?”
“Touché.” They lower their masks.
Gabe makes his way over to the ladder leading down into the water. He claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Time to feed the algorithm.”
“Yeah, yeah. The algorithm.” I picture a little gremlin in a toolshed, plugging wires into an old switchboard. He must’ve said it on purpose to goad me out of my funk. “Don’t take any risks.”
“You do know I’ve logged more dives than you and Marissa combined, right?”
“Don’t rub it in.” I grin, but my stomach is in knots despite the calm waters. Being the one topside always makes me nervous. The waiting, not having any control over what’s going on beneath the surface. But this is a routine dive with experienced divers.
Still, my eyes are trained on the surface where they disappeared as the minutes tick by. Right on time, Gabe and the scientist he was buddy diving with surface and some of the tension leaves my shoulders. “All good?” I call out.
But Gabe shakes his head and pulls out his regulator. “Something’s off with Hope. She had to switch to her octopus,” he calls, referring to the spare regulator carried in case of emergency. Instantly I’m running through potential scenarios.
I watched all of them perform safety checks, and we’re vigilant about maintaining our dive equipment. Tense minutes later, Hope surfaces, then Marissa. They kick their way over to the boat and climb aboard, Hope’s face ashen.
I hunch down next to her, taking her hand in mine, not caring who sees. “What happened?”
