“I shouldn’t think so.”
Nathan grinned. “I, ah, was being ribbed pretty hard before the dive. And I had something to prove. After we went down, I lost my senses, which can happen. I wasn’t prepared for the depth of the dive and for the obstacles.”
“A dead body washed out!” Kit said, the fear in her voice making goosebumps rise on my arms.
Nathan patted her leg. “That, and a few other things. But your husband saved my life, ma’am. He talked me to the surface. He weighted me down with talk of you. Told me how you dance on your toes, but not like Fred Flintstone. He said that you float, like you were just doing. He said you told him ‘no unnecessary chances,’ and he thought my wife would tell me the same thing.”
Kit looked at Brando with tears in her eyes. I could tell he wanted to crawl out of his skin and somehow still attack Nathan with the unglued pieces.
“I bailed, though, at about seventy feet. The tenders—do you know what a tender is, ma’am?”
Brando looked at me. We rarely talked about his work, but I knew everything there was to know, except for the reality of it. I researched and asked my father. I wanted to know what he was up against, even if I didn’t want to know the everyday details.
“Yes.” I went on to explain what I knew.
Nathan nodded. “You’re well informed.”
Brando’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at me as though he was seeing me for the first time.
“Well,” Nathan sighed, “after I bailed, the tenders got to work on me, fearing that I had done something to myself. Nothing worse than a diver that panics and bails. That’ll kill you faster than being under. Attention shifted, and, well, your husband was almost turned into fish bait by the propeller. He threw his helmet off just in time to avoid being sucked in. Or so I’ve been told.”
Nathan wiped at his eyes and nose, though he wasn’t crying. “I came here to thank you, both of you. I’m newly married. I guess the situation hit me hard. I’m not ready to leave my wife.” He cleared his throat. “It takes a real man to save a life, even when his is in jeopardy. I guess it takes the love of a good woman too, a woman who floats on her toes. I wanted to be man enough to offer my appreciation. And to let you know that you were down in the depths with him, on his mind, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” Kit said, taking my hand. She glanced at Brando and smiled. “You’re as tough as nails, Mr. Fausti, but I thank you anyway.”
Brando grunted and nodded.
Seeing that Brando was not much of a talker, the Wilkies bid us goodbye, claiming they had a long drive back. I saw them out and thanked them for coming. When I returned, my husband fiddled with the radio, lost to his own thoughts.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my head against his back, I said, “Just a snag, Fausti?” Then I pinched what I could. He was all lean muscle, hardly any fat.
He shook with laughter. “Yeah, baby, just a snag.”
“That didn’t sound likejusta snag!”
“Well,” he sighed. “It was.”
He faced me, forcing me to his front. He looked down at me.
“You knew. About the tenders.”
“I know everything there is to know about you, Fausti. When you’re down, I’m right beside you. I’ve told you before, my place is next to you. Even when I’m not physically there.”
“Yeah,” he said, moving a piece of hair out my face. “I know you are.”
He seemed like he wanted to say more, but somehow couldn’t find the right words. I knew when they came to him he’d say them, or he would somehow show me. Until then, patiencewasa virtue with him.
He swooped me up. “Time to go home.”
“Home?” I laughed. “Where? Mitch’s truck?”
“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re there. That’s home.”
“All right.” I puckered my lips and he came down for a kiss. “To wherever you are.”
I barely bobbed in his arms as he walked. Steadiness had me in its cradle as we moved, but in the next few minutes, the enormity of what Nathan had said washed over me as I studied his face. It was a delayed reaction that caused me to feel almost panicked at the thought of losing him.
“I love you, Brando. Always.”
