Ten Good Reasons (18 page)

Lia sighed. Cora was right. She should know. Lia was the most emotionally constipated woman in Southern California.

“But, to my point, I think our resident captain might have missed you,” Cora said. “He brooded a lot more when you weren’t there.”

“He did?”

“And he was worried about you when you were sick. He kept begging me to make soup for you.”

The thought warmed Lia all the way to her toes. She wriggled away the pinpricks under the table.

“I haven’t seen your business-suit beau around in a while,” Cora went on. “Does that mean the deck is clear for Captain Betancourt?”

“No!” Lia’s vehement reaction startled even her. “I mean . . . No, my business-suit beau, Forrest, is still on the scene. He’s in Bora Bora.”

“Without you?”

Cora was about the fifth person who had said that now, and it was sinking in to Lia how incongruent it must have seemed. Lia was open about the fact that she’d always wanted to travel, yet never had. And now her very own almost-boyfriend had gone off to Bora Bora without her. Maybe that was sort of rude. Of course, Lia had always told Forrest she appreciated distance, so he was just following her wishes. But still . . . maybe it wasn’t right how happily he’d done so.

“Seems you’re only half-committed, Lia,” Cora said. “When you meet the right one, you’ll be fully committed. You have to throw yourself all the way in. You can’t fall in love until you give your whole heart.”

“That’s what Drew always says.”

Cora nodded sagely.

“But I don’t want to be completely dependent on a man.”

Cora lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe dependence isn’t entirely bad.”

Lia laughed. “Dependence is bad.” Her mother had told her that a million times.

Cora brushed stray sno-cone ice off her shirt. “Why is dependence necessarily bad?”

Lia gaped. Did she really need to answer this? Didn’t Cora know?

“It makes you weak, Cora. Vulnerable. It’s not what women should strive for. Women should strive for independence.”

Cora didn’t seem fazed. “What if the positive side of dependence is deep trust? And it’s
shared
? And that’s what gives you
both
strength? Maybe you’ve been running away from the wrong thing all these years.”

Lia held her breath. Could that be true? She tried to imagine the kind of trust you’d have to have to rely or depend on someone wholeheartedly—it would be extreme. She’d never even come close to that kind of vulnerability. From where she stood, it seemed like tumbling into a deep, dark abyss.

“Aaaaand speak of one of our devils,” Cora whispered, looking past Lia’s shoulder.

Lia’s heart leaped when she thought of which devil it might be—and fell again when she saw it wasn’t the one she’d hoped.

“I’m here, reporting for work, Cap’n.” Douglas threw a grin Lia’s way.

“Thanks. Is it almost noon?” That meant Evan would be here soon. Her stomach made a funny flutter.

Another group of small kids came up to the table and asked about the M&Ms and the whale teeth. Since Cora was giving Douglas a shy smile—the first time Lia had noticed such a thing between them—Lia attended to the children to give Cora and Douglas a few minutes alone.

She had fun teasing answers out of the kids about killer whales while giving them an M&M for every right answer. She got so swept up in her game, she didn’t notice Evan sauntering up the marina sidewalk. Only when she heard his rough voice greet Douglas—and felt the responsive butterflies throughout her belly—did she realize he’d arrived.

“Lia.” He nodded an awkward hello in her direction.

He looked good today. Again. He had on a short-sleeved
navy T-shirt that showed off his body much more than Lia wanted to notice. Blue jeans and boat shoes rounded out what must be his winter wardrobe.

His careful distance—along with the use of her real name that sounded almost formal now—made her realize they might be on some new, uncomfortable ground.

“Evan.” She nodded back.

Cora looked back and forth between them. “So, who’s ready for a tour?”

“I’ll stay here and man the table,” Lia said, shooing them off. “You guys are doing great together.”

“Why don’t Douglas and I stay here, and you go aboard for the narrative?” Cora gave her what was probably supposed to be a meaningful nod.

But Lia wasn’t biting. Even though it might be nice to give Cora and Douglas some time together in the tiny booth, she didn’t want to take any chances being near Evan. The decision felt immature and childish, but a man who made you forget you had a boyfriend was a dangerous man to be around.

“You guys go,” Lia said firmly.

She couldn’t help but notice how relieved Evan looked as he bent to help Cora with her bags of homemade chocolate-chip cookies. He guided her down the dock to follow Douglas.

Once they were all gone, Lia began to relax. She sat back in her chair, kicked off her sandals, sipped her water in relief, and looked for more kids to entertain.

CHAPTER

E
van lifted the binoculars to see if he could spot any more grays. They’d seen four already—nice for the festival passengers—and he’d even pointed out two fin whales in the distance, which Douglas had repeated over the microphone.

Evan turned into the wind and pushed his hair back. He was glad Lia didn’t come aboard. The guilt about forgetting Renece, kissing a woman with a boyfriend, and all around behaving like some kind of lout came firing back at him as soon as he saw her at the booth. It would be best to just stay away. His thoughts of “need” and attraction were now swirling into uncomfortable storm patterns, and he knew it would be best to ride off on Monday. Alone.

The crackling of the radio interrupted his escape plans: “. . . 
Pod of dolphins heading southwest . . .”

Evan lifted his mouthpiece. “Captain Betancourt here, from the
Duke
. Where is the pod now?”

“It’s in Laguna, Betancourt, off Thousand Steps beach. Where are you?”

“We’re almost there.”

“Have you seen a female humpback down that way?”

“No. What’s up?”

“We thought it might be Valentine.”

“Valentine?”

“Yes, but we couldn’t tell if she was really tangled. She was a little out of our range, and now we don’t know where she is, but she’s somewhere between us. If you get up this far, give her a check.”

Evan calculated how long that would take. They’d remained back a bit to look at the four grays, and he still wanted to travel northwest to give these passengers the experience of seeing a dolphin pod.

He clicked the radio back on. “I won’t make it this trip, but maybe I can come back. She’s got a baby with her?”

He figured as much, since that’s the only way they knew the females.

“Affirmative.”

“Wilco. Out.” Evan threw the throttle, hoping he might make some good time in that direction and catch a glimpse of what the captain was seeing, but within ten minutes, he could see dolphins to the north and knew he needed to complete this tour first.

He clicked to Douglas about the dolphins’ position, listened to Doug come onto the microphone to begin his description, and thrust full speed to catch the pod and ride in with them.

But as magnificent as the dolphin pod was, Evan couldn’t get Valentine out of his mind. Huge nylon commercial fishing nets often came unhinged from the sea floor and floated away, trapping large mammals in their tight weaves. And the more the animals struggled, the more the nets would tangle.

As soon as the trip’s passengers disembarked with their cookies and new stories to tell, Evan yelled for Douglas.

“You think Drew would mind if we took the boat back out?” he asked.

“Why?”

“A Newport boat might have just spotted Valentine, just south of Newport Harbor.”

A flash of worry crossed Douglas’s face. “Was she tangled?”

“They couldn’t tell. I want to check her out.”

Douglas’s brow crumpled into regret. “I can’t, Evan. I’m plannin’ to visit Drew now, in fact. But I don’t think he would mind if you took the boat. Especially for a disentanglement. I’ll put in a good word for you. But ask Lia. Or take her with you. She can be a good deckhand when her ankle is working.”

“I don’t know.”

“She’ll be helpful.”

“Ahhh . . .” Evan shook his head and looked away.

Douglas’s frown turned into something that had a quirk of awareness. “I recommend her.” He winked.

Evan put the binoculars away. Yeah, that’s all he needed—to be stuck alone with Lia on a boat for a couple of hours. Just enough time to become more mired in guilt and make more of an ass of himself.

He sighed. Maybe Cora could serve as a helper. . . . Or maybe even Joe the Mechanic’s kid.

“I’ll go find her,” he told Douglas. He had to at least ask for the boat. “Leave some of this for me.” He motioned in the direction of the work that needed to be done and leaped off the cat.

The marina had become even more crowded, if that were possible. Evan edged between the festival crowds up the winding path that led through grassy picnic areas.

At the far end of the row, he came upon Lia sitting alone in the booth. The light that had seemed to surround her and her shiny hair and feminine dress earlier was gone, as she shrank into the shadows, staring at her phone.

“How’d it go?” he ventured.

She sniffled and brushed at her cheeks. “Fine.” She tossed her phone into her purse that lay in the grass and bent to put her sandals on. Although she kept her face averted, he caught a glimpse of her red-rimmed eyes and rosy nose.

His stomach clenched when he saw the grief that clouded her usually sunny face, and he took a step forward. But then he stopped himself. They weren’t on that kind of ground. He’d just promised to keep his distance.

“Something wrong?” he asked from a few feet away.

“No, I’m fine.” She summoned a fabricated-looking smile then turned her head in the other direction as if she were
looking for more booth customers. She leaped up, pretending to fuss with the brochures on the table.

Evan didn’t really know how to handle this kind of thing. Normally, he was one who liked directness, but he could appreciate a person’s need for privacy, too. And he and Lia were on a weird kind of shaky ground now—he was obviously attracted to her, and she obviously didn’t want him to be.

“I, uh . . . I wanted to ask a favor of
you
this time,” he said.

She turned her head slightly while she busied herself with a box of bookmarks. “What is it?”

He stepped closer. “It seems there’s a whale up north that might be Valentine. A female with her baby. Got a radio call. I wondered if Drew would mind if I took the boat back out to make sure she’s not tangled?”

“By yourself?”

He shrugged. It wasn’t impossible to handle the boat by himself; it would just be easier if someone else were there, especially if the whale really were in trouble. “I can handle it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just want to check. See if she’s stuck. I’ll radio for help if I find her.”

“How long will you be?”

“Two hours? Maybe three?”

She glanced nervously at her phone. “Maybe I should call Drew.”

“That’s fine.”

She averted her face, and took another swipe at her cheek.

Evan was surprised at the anger that surged through him when she wiped away tears. Who had upset her? What had upset her? He wondered if it was that crazy boss of hers, or maybe even that absent boyfriend. Either way, it was making the blood speed through his veins.

But this was none of his business.

She
was none of his business. . . .

“Drew?” she said into the phone, then began talking in low murmurs.

Evan sort of wanted to hear what was being said but he refrained from eavesdropping. He was used to being on the outside of everyone’s regard. He could handle another couple of days. He stared past the crowds at the ocean.

“Is Douglas available?” she shouted toward him.

“No.”

She returned to the call. He took pains to focus on a treasure hunt being played in the grass behind them, but snippets of Lia’s conversation forced their way into his awareness: “
I’m not sure. . . . I don’t want to go. . . .”

When the call ended, he heard her footsteps brushing through the grass.

“He said you can take the boat, but he thinks you should bring someone along,” she said. “Drew said it can get dangerous out there with whale disentanglements.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She smoothed her clothes uneasily. She had on a cute short dress—kind of a flowery thing—that let him see way more of her legs than he wanted to.

“I guess I can go,” she said, looking at the grass.

“I heard you say you didn’t want to.”

She winced. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just . . .” She waved her hand as if the answer were hovering near them.

But she didn’t need to tell him. He knew. The kiss. The boyfriend. There was something new changing between them that neither wanted to acknowledge.

“How about if I go, but we agree on a few limited topics of conversation?” she asked.

He thought that over for a second. “That could work.”

“How about: I don’t have to tell you what’s wrong, but you must tell me the story between you and Drew?”

He squinted at her. “Seems like everything’s in your favor.”

“You get the boat.”

He hung his hands on his hips and assessed the damage that could be done with that arrangement, but he didn’t have too much time to think. “All right, let’s go. We might have to hurry. If that whale is caught, we don’t know how long we have.”

She cleared the booth in a flash, shoving the whale-teeth exhibit into his arms, then handing him the box of bookmarks and six batches of brochures. She whipped the tablecloth into a bundle and carried the enormous jar of M&Ms to the booth next door.

Within two minutes, they were scurrying down the
marina—Lia taking one more swipe at her cheeks and Evan trying not to notice.

*   *   *

Lia surveyed the ocean for the area Evan pointed out, leaning over the edge of the starboard side with the set of binoculars.

“See anything?” he shouted from the bridge.

“No.”

She lowered the binoculars and scanned the horizon again without them.

It was easier to sit separately, on the lower deck, so she didn’t have to talk about—or, more likely in her case, blurt out—why she’d been crying.

Forrest had broken up with her.

There.

Yanked off like a Band-Aid.

She just needed to accept it, say it to herself a few times.

He’d sent a text, saying he’d been trying to reach her but the phone connections were very bad there, and relaying that he cared quite a bit about her, but he’d decided to stay in Bora Bora. He’d found religion. He’d shed his materialistic belongings and wanted to start over. He thought he might be back in five years. . . .

Lia hadn’t even known how to respond. She’d simply stared at the phone, wondered how he’d get along without the Italian loafers he so cherished, and then realized her own life’s trajectory had, once again, hit a curve.

She’d cried for the loss of her plan, she realized, more than for the loss of him. And that made her cry even more. Perhaps she’d wasted another six months of her life.

“Anything yet?” Evan shouted.

She lifted the binoculars. He’d told her to look for the slick or the top of the whale’s back about a mile offshore. She scanned all the way up and all the way down.

“Nothing,” she shouted back.

Although Evan was the first person to approach her since her life had changed course, she didn’t want to tell him about Forrest. After all the heat that had been generated between them last night, swirling with her own confusion about her life and where it might go, she knew she’d be incapable of making
smart, rational decisions. She worried she’d find herself in his arms, in his bed, in his life in a way that was probably not the most responsible choice.

So she sat way down here.

Away from all his testosterone.

A slight mound in the distance caught her eye, and she brought the binoculars back up.

“I see something!” She stood abruptly, bumping against the side of the boat. Excited, she readjusted the lenses.

Yep, it looked like a whale. She could see the back. She stared for nearly a minute through the binoculars and didn’t see any movement at all—it looked like it was just floating, with no apparent blow.

She scampered back up the steps to the bridge, where Evan had noted her focus and was leaning into the helm, seeming to push the boat with what seemed like all his might. Concern carved lines around his mouth.

“Is she moving?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lia whispered, staring out to sea.

They traveled quickly, not speaking, the wind whipping icy jags across Lia’s face.

When they arrived within forty feet, Evan turned off the motor, and they floated in silence, staring at the enormous figure, which hadn’t moved and hadn’t spouted at all. Finally, Evan dropped his head.

“I’m going into the pod to see if I can identify her tail,” he said reverently.

Lia stared at the poor, dead whale until Evan came back up.

“It’s Valentine,” he said.

They gave it another two minutes, listening only to the water slapping the side of the hull, then Evan picked up his radio: “This is Captain Betancourt of the
Duke
. I found the whale you identified earlier. It is Valentine. Affirmative. She’s dead.” His voice trailed off for a moment. He took a deep breath. “She’s about twenty miles off . . . uh . . . Crystal Cove, I believe. No sign of the baby, which is strange. I can see some netting in the water. I’ll call NOAA.”

He dropped the radio to his side and leaned against the rail, his eyes never leaving the whale, his shoulders slumped.

They stood in silence for a moment, each lost in their own
thoughts and wishes for poor Valentine, who had become almost a symbol of Sandy Cove.

Finally, Evan moved into action.

He puttered the boat closer, then cut the motor and vaulted down the steps, leaning over the side of the cat so he could grab some of the nylon netting. He pulled as much as he could onto the deck, whipping a Swiss Army knife out of his pocket to sever the remainder. His jagged movements had a desperate, frantic motion. His hair swung violently across his eyes, his mouth twisted in grim determination. After he struggled for about five minutes to cut as much as possible, flinging the slippery white netting behind him onto the deck, Lia stepped forward and touched his arm.

He pushed her away. “I should have come sooner,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Evan.”

“They’re so vulnerable out here—they don’t know how to get out of these lines.” His movements, sawing at more of the net, became more and more furious.

“Evan.”

“She needed help.”

Lia tentatively reached out for him again. “Evan.”

“I let her down, Lia.” His head whipped toward her, his eyes frantic. “How could I have let her down? This mother and baby . . .”