“I found it in the closet last night.”
“Dad gave this to you.”
“Son, be brave. Be free,” Nathan recites the inscription.
“He wanted that for you,” Maddie says. “You’ve always been those things. He wanted you to have a tangible reminder of who you are.”
Nathan’s a graceful diver. Not a word you’d use for most men, but it fits him. His movements are fluid and controlled, seemingly effortless, and his body is perfectly streamlined for swimming. We’re wearing thin wetsuits and carrying slates for communication. Scott is with us but stays at a distance, doing his own thing as Nathan and I swim close together side by side. As we near the blue hole, I wonder what he’ll feel when he sees it. I expected to see more fish than there are today. When we approach the coral encroachment, I freeze. It’s worse than it was last week. Among the vivid golds, reds, and blues are batches of ghostly snow white. Not dead yet—but dying. Tears run downmy face, fogging my mask. Nathan looks in my direction and gently touches my arm.
That’s when we see it. The entrance to the blue hole.
Still remarkable, but its oasis of life is drying up. Thinner schools of Chromis, deflated sponge, and milky white particles dancing in the air. Beautiful, but fraying at the edges.
Nathan freezes. His eyes are fixed on the dark mouth of the cavern. I touch his back and watch him. He eases closer to it. And closer. Oh no. I tap my tank to get his attention. When he turns, I point away from the hole. He raises his hand and signals to give him a minute. Then he moves forward.
He’s going in. Nathan!
Screaming at him isn’t an option, and I can’t dive caves. Desperately, I search for Scott and see he’s not far away, already seeing what Nathan’s up to. Is he smiling? Scott gives me awaitsignal. Then he follows Nathan into the hole.
Forever seems to pass by before they both reemerge. Scott gives us the thumbs up, ending the dive.
Back on the deck, Scott walks over to Nathan and helps him out of his gear. “Not cool, man. Not cool.”
“I needed to see it.”
Scott tilts his head in my direction but says nothing.
Nathan presses his lips into a thin line, then looks down. “I was out of line.”
Scott smiles faintly. Nathan walks over to me. “That was shitty of me. I’ll stick to the plan next time. I’m sorry I scared you, Crystal.”
It’s impossible to be mad, and I believe him when he says he won’t do it again.
As we clean up, there’s a sudden shift in the wind.
“Maddie, Crystal. Take cover,” Scott calls out. “This is going to be a nasty one.”
Dark, near-black clouds have swallowed the sky. Where in the world did they come from? Thunder slams in the distance while flashes of electricity scatter overhead. Scott and Nathan immediately start securing theAdeline. While Maddie and I find shelter in the cabin.
Storms have always marked turning points in our lives together. They don’t scare me anymore. Nathan told me I was the living personification of storm winds to him. Sudden, strong, impatient…
This one is violent, but oddly familiar. So similar to the one Nathan and I encountered on one of our journeys to Belize. After graduation, Nathan remained affiliated with the University of Miami and often worked on marine heritage programs with NOAA. One of those projects was a joint expedition with the University of Belize. For weeks at a time, he’d travel to complete fieldwork. He took me with him a few times, the first shortly after we became a couple. He’d usually fly to Belize, but for this one, he wanted to take me on theNatalie Dawn. A weeklong sail. A week that flew by like a dream.
On the first night of the trip, we found ourselves in the middle of a raging storm. Sailing in the big ocean—no land in sight. Somewhere northeast of the Dry Tortugas, the pressure in the air dropped, and we could sense the storm coming. Eerily calm, we prepped the boat as quickly as we could, taking shelter in the cabin as the rain started coming down in curtains. In seconds, it erupted into violent gusts and choppy seas. I tried to act brave, but I was scared.
“Do you know the best thing to do when the waves are rocking your boat?”
“What?” I eyed him suspiciously. More nervous with each shake of the boat and crash of thunder.
“If you can’t beat them… join them.”
“That’s so lame.” I laughed at his silly joke anyway. Then I looked in his eyes, and it wasn’t so funny anymore.
He eased past the cramped furniture in the berth and stood in front of me. His short gray cotton shirt was soaked, with every muscle I’d memorized visible through the cloth. The urge to touch him was too strong to ignore, even with the fear that the boat was going to be torn apart around us. I pushed my fingers through the belt loops on his shorts and pulled him closer.
Not touching me at all, he tilted his head slightly without easing the intensity of his gaze. Did I do something wrong? His lips were still. Pressed into a firm, straight line. So serious. I’d never seen him like that. I caught my breath as warmth in my core spread through my body, followed by a pleasant tingle. I really hoped I was in trouble.
“You’re gonna make me melt,” I whispered. I could barely recognize my voice.
