Every Breath

He’d also been taken with the way Hope had spoken about her friends and family. It was clear that she genuinely cared for all of them. She was naturally empathetic, not just sympathetic, and people like that struck him as rare. He’d sensed it even when they’d spoken about Andrew.

Thinking about his son, he now wished he had postponed leaving for the trip, given that he wouldn’t see his father until Saturday afternoon. It was odd that the man hadn’t called to explain, but it irritated Tru only with regard to Andrew. He had awakened in the morning missing his son, and resolved to give Andrew a call from the pay phone he’d passed. It would have to be collect and the charges would be substantial, but Kim would let him reimburse her when he returned. With the time difference, and knowing Andrew was in school and had homework, Tru figured he still had a couple of hours to wait. He was already looking forward to his flight home on Monday.

Except…

Raising his eyes toward Hope’s cottage again, he smiled when he saw her trailing after Scottie as he trotted down the walkway, then the steps. At the beach, she bent over, releasing Scottie from the leash, and the dog took off running. There were no seagulls nearby, but he’d find them; of that Tru had no doubt. As he watched, he wondered whether Hope was thinking about him, and hoped that she’d enjoyed their evening together as much as he had.

She drew farther from the pier with every step, her image growing smaller. He watched her anyway, until he registered a light movement on his line. When he felt a tug, he jerked the tip of the rod upward, sinking the hook, and all at once, the pull on the line intensified. He lowered the tip and began winding the reel, keeping just enough tension on the line, and was struck again by how strong fish were, no matter their size. They were all muscle. But he played the game, knowing the fish would eventually tire.

Continuing to work the reel, he watched as a strange-looking fish eventually emerged from the water at the end of his line. He swung it to the pier, having no idea what to make of it. It was flat and oval, with two eyes on its back. Using the toe of his boot to keep it from flapping, he plucked a glove and pair of pliers from the toolbox and began to remove the hook, trying not to damage the fish’s mouth. As he was working, he heard a voice beside him.

“That’s a helluva flounder. Big enough to keep, too.”

Tru glanced up and saw an older man with a baseball cap, wearing clothes that were several sizes too large. He had a gap where his front teeth should have been and his accent, much heavier than Hope’s, was difficult to understand.

“Is that what it is?”

“Don’t tell me you ain’t never seen a flounder before.”

“This is a first.”

The man squinted at him. “Where you from?”

Wondering whether the man had ever heard of Zimbabwe, he simply said, “Africa.”

“Africa! You don’t look like you’re from Africa.”

By then Tru had removed the hook, and setting the pliers aside, he grabbed the fish and was about to toss it over when he heard the man speak up.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“I was going to let it go.”

“Can I have it? I ain’t had much luck yesterday or this morning. I’d sure appreciate some flounder for dinner.”

Tru debated before shrugging. “Sure.”

The man reached over and took the fish, crossing back to the other side of the pier, where it vanished into a small cooler.

“Thank you,” the man called out.

“You’re welcome.”

Tru readied his line again, casting out a second time. By then, Hope was nothing but a smudge in the distance.

He recognized her anyway, and for a long time, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Hope kept watch over Scottie, calling for the dog to come whenever he approached the dune, not that he ever seemed to listen. Hoping that Scottie would suddenly begin to obey was an exercise in futility. Of course, it fit perfectly with how her morning was already going.

Immediately after waking, she’d heard the phone begin to ring in the kitchen. Hope had to wrap the blanket around herself and stubbed her toe on the corner as she’d raced to answer it. She’d thought it might be Josh, but she remembered the time difference in the same instant she heard Ellen crying on the other end. Sobbing, actually—at first Hope had no idea what Ellen was trying to tell her. It was all Ellen could do to choke out a few words here and there. Hope initially believed that the wedding had been called off, and it took a while for her to decipher that Ellen was crying about the weather. Between sobs, Ellen informed Hope that it was supposed to start raining later today, and that storms were virtually certain over the weekend.

It struck Hope as a bit of an overreaction, but Ellen remained inconsolable, no matter what she told her. Not that Hope had the chance to do much talking. The phone call was more like listening to a weepy forty-minute monologue about the unfairness of life. As her friend went on and on, Hope leaned against the counter with her legs crossed and toe still throbbing, absently wondering if Ellen would even notice if she set the phone down to use the bathroom. She really, really had to pee, and by the time she was finally able to get Ellen off the phone, she had to ditch the blanket and hobble as fast as she could.

After that, as though some deity had it out for both Tru and Hope, her coffee maker went on the blink. The light came on but the water wouldn’t heat, and Hope debated whether to boil some water and pour it through the grounds. By then, however, Scottie was at the door and she knew that if she didn’t get him outside soon, she would have a mess to clean up. So, throwing on some clothes, she brought her dog to the beach, hoping to salvage the morning with a relaxing walk. But Scottie made that impossible. On two different occasions, he ran to the top of the dune and up someone’s walkway—either trying to find that cat again or purposely attempting to give her a heart attack—and she had to scramble after him. She supposed she could put the leash back on, but Scottie would likely alternate between trying to pull her arm off and sulking, and she wasn’t in the mood for either.

Despite all that…

While on the phone, she’d seen Tru walk past her house on the way to the pier with his fishing gear and couldn’t help smiling. She still had trouble believing she’d actually had dinner with him. Her thoughts drifted back to their conversation…she was surprised by how pleasant the evening had been, and how effortlessly they’d seemed to get along.

She wondered whether he’d take her advice and visit Kindred Spirit after he finished fishing. With storms on the way, tomorrow would probably be too late, but that went for her as well. After her appointments, she guessed she might have some extra time to swing by the mailbox, and as she walked the beach, she made the decision to do just that.

But she had to get going or she’d be late. She had a hair appointment in Wilmington at nine and a pedicure at eleven. She also wanted to see if she could find an appropriate pair of shoes to wear to the wedding—the burgundy pumps that Ellen had picked out for the bridesmaids pinched her feet terribly, and she’d decided she couldn’t spend the whole night in agony. Traffic would probably be heavy, and cutting the walk short, she called to Scottie before turning around. Not long after, Scottie barreled past her with his tongue hanging out. As she watched him run, she glanced toward the pier. She could see a cluster of people, but they were nothing but shadows, and she wondered whether Tru was having any luck.

Back at the cottage, she dried Scottie with a towel, then took a quick shower. Afterward, she dressed in jeans, a blouse, and sandals. She’d worn pretty much the same outfit the day before, but when she glanced in the mirror, she couldn’t help feeling that she looked different—prettier, maybe, or even more desirable—and she understood that she was seeing herself as a stranger might see her. The way Tru had seen her last night, as they’d sat across the table from each other.

With that realization came another decision. Hope rummaged through the drawer beneath the phone, finding everything she needed. After scribbling the note, she left through the back door and descended to the beach. Taking the steps and using the walkway at the house next door, she tacked the note next to the latch of the gate, where Tru couldn’t help but find it.