An Unfinished Story(98)

Claire taught him how to look for sharks’ teeth, and they combed the sand for shiny black triangles. But after twenty minutes, Claire could tell he was losing faith. “Don’t be discouraged. It took me years to find my first one.”

He tossed the black shell he’d thought might be a tooth into the water. “This is not easy.”

They were working their way north along the tide line toward the Don CeSar. It was sea turtle–nesting season, and volunteers from the Sea Turtle Trackers had come out early one recent morning to mark the nests with wooden stakes and orange tape. Claire explained the struggles of a baby sea turtle trying to get back to the sea after it hatched.

Returning their focus to the hunt for sharks’ teeth, Claire said, “It’s a game of patience and determination. My grandmother taught me, and I’d be happy to pass along my secrets.”

“Is she why you moved to Florida from Illinois?”

“Yeah,” Claire said, picturing her grandmother’s face. “She gave me my love of the Gulf. We would walk up and down this beach every morning, and she’d find at least five teeth every time her feet hit the sand.”

Several more minutes into their search, they came across the famous Kenny in his green mankini, strutting past them. He wore gold aviators, which reflected the rising sun. Claire and Kenny exchanged a hello as they passed.

Once Kenny was a safe distance away, she turned to Oliver.

“Oh my God,” he said, “you know that guy?”

“Everybody knows Kenny.”

Oliver burst into a laugh, and Claire couldn’t help but laugh too. But she didn’t want Kenny to hear, so she caught Oliver, wrapping her arms around him. “Shhh.”

Oliver laughed even harder, pulling her hand away from his mouth.

Claire turned, and if Kenny had heard them, he wasn’t worried about it. He was happily moving down the beach, his mankini pulled up in the back as high as ever.

As they both collected themselves, Claire said, “Whatever floats your boat, right?”

Oliver was still shaking his head. “That should be illegal.”

As they renewed their Don CeSar route, Oliver asked something completely out of the blue. “Hey, Claire, can I tell you something?”

“What’s that?” she asked, hearing by his tone it was of great importance to him.

“I’m sorry that I broke into that car and messed up things with you and David.”

Her throat closed momentarily. “What are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t been such a punk, none of this would have happened.” With all the defeat in the world, he said, “He’d still be alive.”

Claire grabbed his arm and stopped him from walking. A fire burned in her heart. “Never once have I thought that way. You had nothing to do with him dying.”

Oliver looked toward the sand.

She lifted his head up by his chin and looked him in the eyes. “I am so extremely thankful that you came into our lives. And I’m so happy that David was able to feel what it was like to be a father before he died. I don’t ever want you to think you had something to do with his death. You didn’t. You hear me?”

He offered an unsure nod.

She let go of him. “I’ve felt the same way, like it’s my fault. Like he’d still be here if I hadn’t been so vehemently opposed to adoption.” She shook her head. “We can’t think like that.”

Oliver nodded again, and she pulled him into a hug. He squeezed hard, and she knew he’d needed to get that off his chest.

They kept walking and talking, and the gloom of David’s death left their conversation. Soon they were laughing again.

When she finally spotted a tooth, Claire yelled, “Ah, gotcha!” She reached down and retrieved the black tooth, which was about a half inch tall. She handed it to Oliver.

“No way,” he said, lifting his palm closer to his eye, examining her find.

“Hold on. You’ve never seen one?”

“I’ve seen them at Boyd Hill, just didn’t think we’d find one.” He looked left to the water and then held up the tooth. “I don’t understand how anyone goes swimming in there.”

“Sharks want nothing to do with people. Besides, that tooth is probably ten thousand years old.”

“Well, I’m sure he had kids and then his kids had kids.”

Claire smiled. “Baby sharks are called pups.”

A wave ran up around their legs. “Did you ever learn to swim?” Claire asked, recalling the scene in David’s book. “No big deal if you haven’t, just wondering.”

“Yeah, I can swim. But I like swimming in pools better. Where you can see what’s in there with you.”

Though the storm crept closer, the sun was breaking through the cumulus clouds, and the temperature rose several degrees instantly. Oliver removed his shirt, revealing his super-white stomach and chest. She noticed a pink scar, about four inches long, running from his clavicle to his shoulder. Though she had no idea where it came from, she could only imagine. And instead of letting the scar sadden her, it only served to make her feel even more compassion for him.

After walking a little farther, they sat in the sand. A couple was setting up a University of Florida Gators tent behind them.

Claire tapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Hey, I had an idea the other day. I want to start a foundation in David’s name to support foster children in the area.”