The hammock was easy enough to unfasten and cast aside, but when they went to lift the frame, it shifted causing Jesse to slip on the wet pool tile. The shift startled the girls lifting the other end, they pushed instead of pulled and Jesse tipped backward, arms flailing to regain his footing. In the end, gravity won dragging him into the pool.
He came up sputtering.
“Are you okay?” Angela reached a hand toward him.
He climbed out and first felt his front pockets for his cell phone. “Guess I left it at the house. Good.” He reached to his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. Water ran out of the shiny leather corner.
“And your watch.” Angela stood with her hand out. He handed her his wallet and unbuckled his watch. “Mims, hand me that towel,” Angela ordered. She took the wallet from Jesse. “I’ll dry these things out. Jen, will you see if you can get his watch dry before it’s ruined? There’s a hairdryer in my bathroom.”
“Where are my helpers?” Jesse lifted his end of the hammock frame, the two girls hurried to pick up their end. Mimi and Angela spread the contents of Jesse’s wallet onto the patio table. Ginger had grabbed a roll of paper towels and the three of them blotted at the cards and bits of paper.
“What’s this?” Angela withdrew the small square photograph.
Mimi peered over her shoulder. “Pretty. Who is she?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.” She gently dabbed the photo, careful not to ruin it. Angela flipped it over and examined the unmistakable curlicues that had once been words, but they had long since faded. Holding it in the light, she saw something near the top corner.
“That’s a heart,” Mimi said.
“Aw. Do you think they were in love?” Ginger’s voice turned dreamy.
“Jesse has never mentioned her. I don’t know.” There was a lot she didn’t know about Jesse. Like why a sixty-year-old man was reading law books for entertainment.
The girl in the photo had a perfect smile and long blonde hair cut into a late seventies or maybe early eighties style.
When Jesse and the girls returned, both Mimi and Ginger stepped back. He examined the contents of his wallet, splayed on the patio table. He reached for the photo.
“She’s very pretty, Jesse.”
He lifted the picture and lovingly ran a finger along the edge. “Yes, she is.” There was a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
A yacht glided across the water beyond them, its gentle hum breaking some of the thick tension in the air.
“What’s her name?” Angela asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Her name is Olivia.”
“Who is she?”
Uncle Jesse swallowed hard. “She was the one.” Then he blinked, and the boundaries went up. He gathered his other belongings and piled them in one hand. He captured the photo of Olivia and disappeared through the side gate. “I’ll be back to handle the big chair after I get dry.”
The girls were quiet. Angela’s mind began racing.
Chapter Three
Beginning of summer,
Wishing Beach Island, 1981
Olivia
Olivia Murray stared at the open water.
“Come on out,” her brother teased.
Olivia’s lips twitched and her fingers dug into her upper arms. Brothers. Where had her fear come from? From them, of course. Two older brothers who delighted in torturing their baby sister—as they liked to refer to her. She wasn’t a baby. She had just turned seventeen.
“Come on,” Evan coaxed. “Baby!” He was treading water at the edge of the pier they’d sailed off after depositing their outer clothing on the worn wooden planks. “It won’t be like last time.”
When you held me under water until I nearly drowned? she asked, silently. Okay, maybe she hadn’t nearly drowned, but her vision had dimmed and as she’d fought to right herself on the unforgiving sandy ocean floor, she imagined she was dying. Seventeen. Never been kissed. And about to expire.
The sad part was she could swim. She was an accomplished swimmer and diver. In a swimming pool. In fact, she’d spent countless hours in the Olympic size pool at the academy where she trained. She was on her school’s swim team. Truth was she wasn’t afraid of water. She was afraid of the ocean. The thought of getting in it was paralyzing.
Pathetic.
Still, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how scared she really was. Chills ran up her spine even in the balmy summer air. She could practically feel the sting of saltwater in her mouth, her throat. Olivia shuffled away from the edge causing her brothers to laugh. She stomped off toward the row of beach houses sitting to the right of the pier. Ignoring their laughter, she concentrated on the bright colors of the beachside surf shop just before her. A wood plank structure and tin roof sported decorative exterior walls. Each wall of the surf shop was colored with bright swatches of paint in sea themed designs as if the building had been tagged by a gang of highly talented mermaid graffiti artists. Her favorite was the animated island and swooping palm trees where a table of dolphins sat sipping drinks. She tried to focus on the wall, but her emotions were high.
Stupid brothers. For as long as she could remember her brothers had filled her head with stories about sharks, riptides, and dangerous undercurrents. Even sea monsters when she was young enough to believe those tales. But sharks, riptides and undercurrents were real, and were dangerous.
She gritted her teeth and squeezed the oncoming tears back into her eyes. This had to stop.
Ten hours later, Olivia walked back to the same pier where her brothers had laughed at her. A darkened sky above held pinholes of light. Off to her right, a plane slid silently through the stars. Around her, all was quiet. Even the night fishermen were gone now. Of course, it was midnight and hightide. She’d checked because she didn’t want to dive into shallow water. Beneath her cotton blouse and culottes, she wore her brand new Catalina bathing suit. Her first two piece with a halter top and bikini bottoms that rode low on her narrow hips and made her feel less like a thin gawky girl and more like a woman.
Slowly, she slipped out of her clothing and folded the items neatly. Over the past several hours, she’d imagined sailing off the edge of the pier into the water below. She’d done it so many times in her mind, she worked hard to convince herself that now was no different. But it was different. In all her imaginings, she’d never noticed the chill in the air biting her flesh or the intense quiet. Regardless, she was determined to swim.
Olivia placed the pants on top of her shoes and the blouse on top of the pants, all on the wooden strips of the pier. A single light shone down on the water while others lit the way to the pier’s edge creating hazy halos of light against the ink black sky. It was strange how calm she was considering that only hours ago, the thought of getting in this water terrified her. Now, it beckoned. Olivia scooted to the end of the pier until her toes overhung the weathered boards.
Nineteen-year-old Jesse sat in the quiet of the tiki hut awning at the surf shop. A row of lounge chairs stretched out beside him, all chained to the deck by Owen, the shop’s owner. Owen knew Jesse loved the peace and quiet of the beach at night. He wouldn’t mind him taking a break there before going home. Tonight after closing, Jesse stayed at the garage where he was employed so he could work on his own car. He did a bunch of system checks before he started tearing down the motor. Looked like it was going to be a complete rebuild. But he’d ask Wally, his boss, what he thought before he went any further.