ChapterOne
BLAKE
After what feels like hours behind the wheel, I round the headland and Coogan’s Break reveals itself. Despite not having lived here in years, and my folks having moved north to be near my grandparents, this place still feels like home.
Rather than continue into town, I pull off the road, allowing the cars banked up behind me to pass. The van isn’t the fastest vehicle and passing on the narrow road to the south of town is never a good idea. If any of the cars behind me were to try, they’d be checking out the bottom of the cliff that skirts the seaward side of the road.
I turn off the engine and it shudders to a stop, allowing me to hear the waves crashing on the rocks below. This coupled with the ozone-laced air whipping in through the open window, and the sense of homecoming is overwhelming.
My seatbelt released, I grab the binoculars from the center console and clamber out. It takes a moment to get all feeling back in my legs. While I can put some of this down to hours of sitting on that uncomfortable bench seat, that’s not all of it.
Despite only being in my mid-twenties, I don’t move as freely as I once did, no doubt thanks to surfing year-around. Even so, if I see myself in a shop window, I recognize my dad in the way I move. I love my old man, but I don’t want to become him, just yet.
I put the binoculars up to my eyes to check the surf from one end of the beach to the other. It’s different from last time I was here. That big storm I heard about must have really chewed up the ocean floor for the surf breaks to have changed as much as they have.
It’s the only reason I’m in town early. If I’ve got a hope in hell of taking out one of the major prizes, then I need to get a handle on the waves.
The binoculars still up to my eyes, I sweep across the beach to check out the town. Hah, who am I fooling? I’m not just looking at the town; I’m looking at something in particular, one shop, and a reminder of a misspent youth and puppy love.
That aside, the town doesn't hold good memories. I’d hated school, with my grades testimony to a sterling lack of effort, or engagement. The only standout for me was wood shop.
On spotting a familiar face through the glass front door of the Surf Shack, I break into a wide grin. What’s she doing opening up? I thought she’d moved onto bigger things.
After putting the binoculars away, I haul myself into the driver’s seat. I wonder if being next to her will have the same effect on me that it always did.
There’s only one way to know for sure.
CHLOE
As I look around my parents’ shop, I’m wondering what possessed me to agree to cover for them while they were away on a buying trip. We’d arranged it months ago and it had rather taken me by surprise.
When they’d asked originally if I was okay managing the Surf Shack Thursday through Sunday, I hadn’t given it much thought. Instead, I’d asked the head librarian if I could take annual leave for the two weekdays.
Mom and dad didn’t ask much of me, and it wasn’t as if my social life was frantic enough that I’d be going out, or anything. More likely I’d be at home, sitting in my favorite chair, my nose buried in a book. Working in a library, there aren’t enough hours in the day for me to read all the books I want to.
It wasn’t until the week before I was due to babysit the shop that something dawned on me. The weekend after they were away, there was a big surf event.
That’s not quite right, big doesn’t do the annual Coogan’s Break Carnival justice. It’s a major event on the surfing calendar, with the biggest draw of the weekend, being the thousands of dollars in prizes up for grabs.
It was this that had surfers arriving in droves, be they amateur or professional.
Despite not having had a lot to do with the shop since I graduated and started at the library, it was a given the shop would be manic. Thursday and Friday hadn’t been too bad, and I’d managed by myself.
However, today being Saturday, the shop is overrun. I knew it would be bad when there are people waiting for me to unlock the door.
Adding to my panic is that Nina, the girl who helps my parents on weekends, has yet to put in an appearance. She’d normally have been there five minutes before opening waiting for me to let her in. That hadn’t been the case this morning.
A quick peek at my phone sitting on the sales counter next to the cash register shows she hasn’t messaged me back. She’s so reliable and this so out of character that my earlier annoyance has now morphed into concern.
The next customer served and on their way, I grab my phone. I want to check if she’s okay. My phone up against my ear, I ring up the next customer one-handed, but with a ready smile in place so they don’t feel ignored.
So split is my attention that it takes a moment to realize my call to Nina has gone straight through to voicemail. My message is therefore more abrupt than I’d like, reduced to a simple “Where the heck are you?” before I end the call.
I squeeze my phone into the back pocket of my denim shorts, so that if she does call back and I’m away from the register, I won’t miss the call.
On looking up to see who’s just walked in the front door, I’m glad I’m no longer holding my phone. If I had been, I’d have dropped it. As it is, I need to lean against the sales counter and lock my knees to stay upright.
