Strong Like the Sea, стр. 31
“Dad’s here?” I scan the shadows under the palm trees of the yard. But he’s nowhere that I can tell.
“No. He’s at work, but he said to tell you to be helpful, have fun, call when you’re done, and come home safe. He came by as soon as Malia texted that you were on your way. He had to go teach a class for some mainlanders. It was on the schedule.”
“I’m sure it was.” The corner of my mouth quirks up as I pull the floppy hat on and slide the chinstrap bead up tight. So Dad brought it all over, and he didn’t even stay to scold me. True, he had clients to get to, but still. A gentle warmth seeps inside like stones basking in the sun. “Tell Dad thanks for me.”
“Tell him yourself. You’ve got a phone.” Auntie tsks, but her smile shines through in her rich brown eyes.
Mom might love me with riddles and codes, but Dad loves me with golden spirals and supply bags. I’ll have to do something extra nice for him to say thank you. Maybe pick up some li hing strawberry belts or crack seed from Sam’s store on the way home.
Uncle clears his throat so I know he’s done waiting, and I trek down the sand.
Water grasps at my toes and shivers race up my legs as if I’m stepping onto shards of glass instead of crossing the water’s edge. Everything in me says, Danger! Run! Don’t go in there! But Uncle’s watching, and I know he’d never let me help again if I back out now. No help means no clues, and no way can I let a little paralyzing fear get in the way of solving Mom’s challenge. Like Malia says, the challenge was for fun before, but now it matters more. One step after another, I force my way in, cool waves slapping against my bare legs as I wade up to my knees.
I clench my fists and eye the waves. If the water comes up to Uncle’s waist, it’ll hit my armpits before I reach the kayak. Forcing each step, I make it till the waves strike my waist and splash up my chest, until I can’t see the ground, and my feet refuse to go any farther. There might be things in the water. My breath speeds up and I try my hardest not to think of anything, but shadows of long, powerful bodies and snapping teeth seep past my shields.
All I have to do is take a few more steps . . . or fly. They feel equally impossible at the moment.
“Uh, can you please bring the kayak closer? Please?” I hate to ask, but it’s better than giving up.
Uncle scowls but lets the kayak drift closer on the next wave, the bowline still secure in his hand.
“Right.” I grab the sides of the kayak with both hands, but every time I try to get in, it tips, nearly dumping his stuff in the water.
Grumbling something I try hard not to hear, Uncle steps close enough to hold the kayak steady for me while I climb into the front seat. He jerks his chin. “Life vest’s behind the seat.”
“Oh, right.” The blue vest slips over my arms easy, and I click the straps into place like Dad taught me. Even after I wouldn’t go out on the water anymore, Dad still drilled me about water safety when I waited on the shore. I think it’s a leftover Marine thing—or maybe just a parent thing.
The kayak rocks with a series of larger waves, and I throw a leg over each side for balance.
With me settled, Uncle hangs on to the bowline but turns away as he adjusts his vest.
Something splashes behind me, but I don’t dare turn to see. A couple seconds later, Sarge bounds through the waves and lifts a sodden, webbed paw onto the side.
I squeak as his weight half tips me to the side, but Uncle barks an order. “No room for you today. She’s in your spot.”
Sarge groans again and sits in the water, still head and shoulders above the waterline even in water that was over waist-deep on me. His double coat of fur floats around him like seaweed, lifting and falling with each wave. After a long, wistful gaze at his master, Sarge sighs and sniffs my leg. Quick at first, he sniffs my knee and thigh, then breathes in deep and licks his nose with a long pink tongue. Our eyes meet and he stares back steady and strong as if to say, “If I can’t go, he’s your responsibility. Keep him safe.”
Gingerly, I reach out to scratch Sarge behind his ear, and he leans into my touch and closes his eyes.
“Blasted thing. Whoever made this should be fired. Can’t believe . . .” Uncle takes a few steps toward shore but keeps his back to me and grumbles under his breath. I can’t see what he’s doing, but he keeps fidgeting with his vest. Veins pulse on the side of his face, which is getting redder by the second.
“Let me, let me.” Auntie hikes her skirt and ties it up in a quick knot by her thigh before wading in. She brushes his hands aside, clips the vest for him, and gives him a kiss. “You two have fun. Be good, eh?”
“I almost had it,” he grumps.
“I know you did.” She pats his shoulder and winks at me.
Uncle pushes the kayak out farther and climbs in behind me, my stomach lurching as the craft tips one way and then the other while he sits down to paddle us out from shore.
Gritting my teeth, I pull my feet in and hold on.
A wave hits the bow and splashes my face. For every stroke forward Uncle makes with the paddle, another wave pushes us