Every Breath(13)

Hope ran a hand through her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ear. There were wispy clouds on the horizon, the kind that would likely burn off as the morning progressed. It would be a perfect afternoon for a glass of wine, maybe some cheese and crackers, or even oysters on the half shell. Add some candles and some sultry R&B, and…

Why was she thinking such things?

With a sigh, she focused on the waves, recalling that as a little girl, she used to play in them for hours. Sometimes she rode a boogie board, other times it was fun diving under them as they broke overhead. More often than not, her dad would join her in the water for a while, and the memories brought with them a tinge of sadness.

Soon, she thought, her dad would never enter the ocean again.



Staring out over the water, Hope reminded herself that she was fretting over first-world problems. It wasn’t as though she were worrying about whether she’d eat today, or have a safe place to sleep. The water she drank didn’t heighten her risk of contracting cholera or dysentery; she had clothing, and an education, and the list went on and on and on.

Her dad—what with his leaf story and all—wouldn’t want her to worry about him. And as for Josh, more than likely, he’d come around. Of their four previous breakups, none had lasted longer than six weeks, and in each case, it had been Josh who’d suggested that they start over. As for Hope, she was a big believer in the philosophy If you love something, set it free, and if it comes back it loves you. Common sense told her that begging someone to stay was often the same as begging someone to love you, and she was wise enough to know that never worked.

Turning from the water, she began to meander down the beach again. Shading her eyes, she searched for Scottie up ahead but couldn’t find him. She scanned the area behind her, wondering how he could have slipped past her, but he wasn’t there, either. Other than her, the beach was empty, and she felt the first twinge of worry. On previous walks, it had sometimes taken her a few seconds to locate him, but he wasn’t the kind of dog that would simply run off. It occurred to her that he might have chased some birds into the water and gotten caught in an undertow, but Scottie never swam in the ocean. And yet, he was…gone.

It was then that she spotted someone walking over the dune a short distance up the beach. Her dad still would have made a big deal about that. Dunes were fragile and people were supposed to use the public access paths if there were no steps to the beach, but…whatever. She had more immediate concerns…

She peered ahead and behind, her gaze returning to the man. He’d reached the beach, and she thought she’d ask him whether he’d seen Scottie. It was doubtful, but she didn’t know what else to do. Veering in his direction, she absently noticed that he seemed to be carrying something. Whatever it was blended in with the white shirt he was wearing, and it took her a moment to realize that he had Scottie in his arms. She picked up her pace.

The man walked toward her, moving with an almost animal-like grace. He was dressed in faded jeans and a white button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. As he approached, she noticed his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing chest muscles that indicated both exercise and an active life. He had dark blue eyes, like the sky in late afternoon, and coal-black hair that was turning gray near his ears. When he offered a sheepish smile, she noted the dimple on his chin and an unexpected familiarity in his expression, one that strangely made her feel as if they’d known each other all their lives.





SUNSET BEACH




Tru had no inkling of what Hope was thinking as she approached, but it was impossible for him to turn away. She was dressed in faded jeans, sandals, and a yellow sleeveless blouse that dipped to a low V in front. With smooth, lightly tanned skin and auburn hair framing high cheekbones, she drew his gaze with irresistible force. Her eyes widened with some effusive emotion—Relief? Gratitude? Surprise?—when she finally came to a breathless stop in front of him. Equally at a loss for words, they faced each other without speaking before Tru finally cleared his throat.

“I’m assuming this is your dog?” he inquired, holding Scottie toward her.

Hope heard an accent, something that sounded British or Australian but wasn’t quite either. It was enough to break the spell, and she reached for Scottie.

“Why are you holding my dog?”

He explained what had happened as he handed her the dog, and watched as Scottie licked her fingers, whining with excitement.

When he finished, he detected a note of panic in her tone. “Are you saying that he was hit by a car?”

“All I know is what I heard. And he was favoring his back leg and shaking when I found him.”

“But you didn’t see a car?”

“No.”

“That’s weird.”

“Maybe it was just a graze. And when he ran off, they thought the dog was unhurt.”

He watched as she gently squeezed Scottie’s legs, one by one. The dog didn’t whine; instead, he began to wiggle with excitement. Tru could see the concern on her face as she finally lowered Scottie to the ground. She watched the dog closely as he trotted off.

“He’s not limping now,” she remarked. From the corner of her eye, she could tell that the man was observing Scottie as well.

“Doesn’t seem to be.”

“Do you think I need to bring him to see the vet?”