Tiger's Voyage

  I punched him in the arm and laughed. “No thanks. I guess we’ll buy one here.”

  All three of us started thumbing through the racks. Ren selected bikinis with varying levels of nakedness.

  Kishan stuck them back on the rack, saying, “Don’t you know Kelsey at all? She’s not a bikini kind of girl. What about this one, Kells?”

  He held up a one piece metallic foil print with a twisted bodice.

  “It’s okay,” I responded.

  “Not her color.” Ren grabbed it and put it back on the rack.

  Kishan countered, “And I suppose you want blue.”

  Ren pushed more hangers to the side. “Actually, no. I want her in something bright, so we don’t lose her in the water.”

  They rejected my own preference for a basic black suit, saying my choices were boring.

  We all finally agreed on a twist-front halter in a Santorini red-andginger print with solid red hipster bikini bottoms. It revealed a little of my waistline but not enough to make me feel naked, and it was comfortable and bright.

  Ren picked out deck shoes to go with it, a sun hat, and sunglasses, and we gathered up our purchases and headed to the bikes. The weather had warmed quite a bit. A swim in the pool would be nice when we got back to the boat. Kishan stowed both of our jackets as we got on the bike.

  When I wrapped my arms around Kishan for the return trip, he was wearing only a thin T-shirt. I became overly aware of his warm, muscular body and held on only lightly. As he drove off and leaned into a curve, I almost fell. He grabbed my hand and yanked me closer, pressing my hands tightly against his middle.

  I repeated the mantra I’d used with Ren in Kishkindha when I was trying to ignore his attractive qualities. I reminded myself that it was okay to appreciate the merchandise as long as I only window-shopped. Kishan’s just a very nice male specimen. So what if I wrap my arms around his muscular torso on the ride back? I don’t really have any other options at the present time. I sighed and enjoyed my ride home.

  As Kishan helped me off the bike, I suddenly felt awkward and shied away from him, avoiding his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He grunted and took a step closer just as Ren drove up the ramp. The three of us agreed to meet at the swimming pool in ten minutes, so I could show off my new suit while we all cooled off.

  I arrived at the pool first and found someone already swimming laps.

  When the man reached the edge, he tossed his head, flicked his blond hair back, and then climbed the ladder and grabbed a towel. He scrubbed his face, arms, and legs dry and grinned at me. “You must be Kelsey.”

  “Yes.” I smiled back tentatively and asked, “Who are you?”

  He laughed in a way that made me think he did that a lot. “Do you want the whole name?”

  “Sure.”

  “Wesley Alan Alexander the third, at your service. But you can call me Wes.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Wes.”

  “Nice to meet you too. This is some boat you’ve got here.”

  “Oh, it’s not mine. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “Ah.” He smiled easily. “Daughter, niece, granddaughter, cousin, or girlfriend? And please don’t say girlfriend.” He laughed.

  I laughed with him. “I guess I’m probably a little bit of all of those.”

  “I was afraid of that. I never get the gigs where the beautiful girl is available. But only a little bit of a girlfriend gives me some room to maneuver.” He took a seat and stretched out. “In case you were wondering and were just too darn polite to ask, I’m your diving instructor.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out on my own.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, look out! This girl’s got a sense of humor. I like that. Most of the beautiful girls I meet don’t have much going on in the brain department.”

  Wes seemed to be the kind of guy who was perpetually happy and always laughing at a joke. He swept back his blond hair and grinned at me. He was cute, had blue eyes, a very nice tan, a nicer body, and he was an American.

  “Where are you from?” I asked.

  “Texas.”

  “How does a guy from Texas end up in India giving diving lessons?”

  “It’s a long story. Sure you want to hear it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’d much rather talk about you than myself, so I’ll give you the short version. I’m supposed to be at Harvard, but I like diving better, and I had to go all the way to India to get beyond the reach of my parents. Now, how did a pretty young American girl from—”

  “Oregon.”

  “Oregon?” He raised an eyebrow. “Oregon … find her way to India?”

  “It’s an even longer story than yours.”

  “I’m dying to hear all about it … but it would appear we have company.” He stood and in an exaggerated whisper said, “You didn’t mention you had two boyfriends. Two big, angry boyfriends,” Wes teased, not showing any signs of discomfort at all.

  I giggled and turned around to see Ren and Kishan approaching, wearing identical scowls on their faces. I rolled my eyes at both of them. “Ren, Kishan, meet Wes, our diving instructor.”

  “Howdy! How’re y’all doin’ today, sirs?”

  Wes shook their hands energetically. I stifled a laugh as the boys halted mid-stride, unsure what to make of Wes and his newly affected Southern charm.

  “I was just gettin’ acquainted with yur pretty little filly here. I sure thank ya for the opportunity to hitch a ride. I’ll jus mosey on off to my bunk and let y’all enjoy yur swim. We’ll start the lessons at the crack o’dawn if that’ll be alright with all y’all. Well, I’d better get to gett’n.” Wes rubbed his stomach. “I hope we’re fixin’ ta eat soon. I’m startin’ to feel all catawampus in the bread basket—I like to eat a whole hog—if you know what I mean.” He grinned at both boys then turned to me. “Why it sure was nice making your acquaintance, ma’am. I hope ta see ya again real soon.”

  I dipped in a slight curtsey. “It was nice chatting with you, Wes. See you at dinner.”

  The teasing Texan winked, picked up his things, and left.

  Ren walked up to me and threw his towel on the deck chair. “I have no idea what that man was talking about, but I don’t like him.”

  “That makes two of us,” Kishan added.

  “I don’t know what your problem is. Wes is perfectly likeable, and he’s fun.”

  “I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Ren said.

  I sighed. “You never like the way any guy looks at me.”

  “I agree with Ren. He’s up to something.”

  “Will you two relax? Come on, let’s swim.”

  Ren looked me up and down. “I don’t like that swimsuit anymore. I think we should go back and get one that covers more of you.”

  I poked his chest. “I like this one. Stop being jealous. Both of you.”

  The brothers folded their arms across their chests in identical stances and stared me down.

  “Fine. Suit yourselves. I’m going to swim.”

  I dove into the pool and swam to the other end. I didn’t need to look back to know that Kishan and Ren had followed.

  At dinner, we were joined by our new diving instructor, who made himself comfortable next to me despite the threatening looks Ren and Kishan sent him. Wes continued his Southern drawl and told lots of cowboy and Texas jokes that went completely over Ren’s and Kishan’s heads. Mr. Kadam excused himself, saying he needed to speak with the captain about getting under way, but the boys sat stubbornly watching Wes talk to me, while contributing nothing. We talked about Texas and Oregon and what kinds of food we missed and what we liked to eat in India. I asked for another joke.

  “Alrighty. What do a Texas tornado and an Alabama divorce have in common?”

  “I don’t know. What do they have in common?” I asked.

  “Either way … somebody’s gonna lose a trailer.”

  I laughe
d, and Wes snuck an arm around my shoulder. I heard a soft growl. I couldn’t tell which tiger was responsible, but it meant if I wanted Wes to live until tomorrow, I’d better move away.

  “Thanks for all the jokes, Wes. I’d better hit the hay if I’m going to get up early in the morning.”

  “Right you are. And I’m expectin’ ta see ya bright-eyed and bushytailed come dawn.”

  I laughed and quipped, “How about I’ll be bright-eyed and the boys will be bushy-tailed?”

  Ren narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Goodnight, everyone.” I stood to leave.

  “Wait, Kelsey.” Kishan jumped to his feet. “Let me walk you back.”

  “I’ll walk her back,” Ren said.

  I rolled my eyes and heard Wes give a long whistle. “I’d say there’s a few too many bulls in the pasture. Best see to it a pretty little heifer like yourself doesn’t get trampled.”

  “The heifer can take care of herself. And I’ll see myself back. Goodnight, pardners.”

  Ren and Kishan both frowned unhappily while Wes laughed and took off in a different direction.

  9

  Diving Lessons

  There was a hollow in the pillow next to me when I awoke. I rolled over and inhaled the scent of sandalwood and waterfalls. When I grabbed the pillow to hug it, my hand touched a piece of paper.

  Moon And Sea

  By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

  You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea:

  The tide of hope swells high within my breast,

  And hides the rough dark rocks of life’s unrest

  When your fond eyes smile near in perigee.

  But when that loving face is turned from me,

  Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear,

  And earth’s dim coast-line seems a thing to fear.

  You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea

  I smiled and reread the poem a few times. Maybe it was a sign. I’d told Phet I was like the moon. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me that I belonged with Ren. It was an accurate comparison. The moon and the sea were destined to affect one another but were never able to touch. I sighed and saw it was past dawn. I put on my swimsuit, shorts, and a T-shirt, skipped breakfast, and ran to meet Wes at the pool.

  I was the first student there. He was busy setting out diving equipment.

  “Good morning. Need some help?” I asked.

  “Hey!” He smiled. “Good morning, yourself. Thanks for asking but I’m all done. Are you ready for your first lesson?”

  “Yes. Did you lose your accent overnight?”

  “Nah. It comes in handy when I’m trying to put overprotective fathers or jealous boyfriends at ease. It’s also gotten me a lot of dates and better grades in college. Unfortunately, you have both overprotective and jealous boyfriends. I’m surprised they haven’t killed each other.”

  I laughed. “Believe me, they’ve tried, and now you’ve given them someone new to focus their angst on, I’m afraid.”

  Wes shrugged and grinned, revealing a cute dimple in his right cheek. “That’s okay. Keeps things interesting. In fact, here comes trouble. Stand back and watch the show.” He turned to Ren and Kishan. “Well, good mornin’, fellers. Looks like Kelsey wins the award for early riser. And doesn’t she look purtier than a pat of butter meltin’ all over a stack of griddle cakes?”

  Ren ignored Wes and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Did you eat?”

  “No. No time.”

  He opened his bag. “Brought you an apple.” Ren winked and sat down on the other side of Kishan.

  “Alrighty now. Let’s get started, shall we? First things, first. There are two barriers that prevent humans from diving. The first is we don’t have gills. And if you ever do find a man with gills you can fry me up, call me a catfish, and serve me with hushpuppies. The second problem is that water puts a great amount of pressure on your chest and lungs and would eventually cause your lungs to collapse. Sure as shootin’, they’d pop like a smoked sausage left too long on the barbeque.”

  As he got down to business, his accent gradually dropped off.

  “Without your gear, your lungs wouldn’t have the power to inflate even if you had a way to get air, so your tank provides not only oxygen but also measures the psi, or pounds per square inch of pressure, and equalizes it so your lungs will work. SCUBA is an acronym for selfcontained underwater breathing apparatus. We’re going to be working with both open-circuit sets and rebreathers.”

  Mr. Kadam walked in and took a seat. Wes nodded and continued. “As I was saying, Mr. Kadam felt you should learn to use both as he is as yet undetermined which one will suit your diving purposes. We’ll start with the open-circuit and work our way to the rebreather.

  “In our training today, we’ll learn the name and functions of all the diving equipment. We’ll start with the easy ones first.” He began passing different pieces of equipment around so we could examine them. “Booties, underwater compass, depth gauge, dive knife, and BCD, or buoyancy control device. You wear it like a jacket. I’ll show you how to use it later. Right now I want you to focus on the names and the uses for things.”

  Wes winked at me, and I giggled. Kishan snapped the depth gauge in half, and Ren squeezed the compass too hard. The glass popped and cracked, and the compass fell apart.

  “Sorry,” they both mumbled tightly while I glared.

  They didn’t sound apologetic, but Wes just let it roll right off his back.

  “No problem. They belong to you anyway.” He went on, “We’ve got fins or flippers, a hood for cold-water diving, and a slate. There are two types, one with common fish pictures you can point to, and the other is blank with a special pencil. They’re normally attached to the BCD, and which one is the BCD, Kishan?”

  “The jacket.”

  “And what does it stand for, Ren?”

  “Buoyancy control device.”

  “Good. We’ve got about five more to go. This is your primary regulator that provides your oxygen. This is the octopus or alternate air source—it’s your backup second-stage regulator. If your primary fails, or if you need to share air, you use this. It’s usually a neon color, and you’ll find it on your right side between your chin and rib cage. We’ve got a snorkel for breathing if you’re swimming on the surface, an SPG, or submersible pressure gauge, to tell you how much air is in your tank, and then there’s the cylinder, which is your air tank. Most contain about twelve liters of oxygen.”

  “How long does that last?” I asked.

  “It depends. Nervous, inexperienced divers can use twice as much air as experienced ones. Smaller framed people use less than larger.” He quickly glanced at Kishan and Ren. “And the deeper you go, the more air you use. The average is about an hour dive at sixty feet. More experienced divers could stay under as long as two hours.”

  As I nodded in response, Kishan handed me a bottle of water. I smiled at him, mouthed, “Thanks,” and opened the bottle.

  “The other two things you need to learn about are the weight system and the wet suit. Wet suits keep you warm underwater. We’ll be doing some dives with the wet suit and some without.”

  “Is the wet suit, uh … bite resistant?” I smiled shakily at Mr. Kadam, who smiled back.

  “The wet suit does protect your skin from cuts and scrapes though it still can be torn. So in answer to your question, no, it’s not bite resistant unless the fish are very small.”

  I grimaced while Kishan added, “She’s afraid of sharks.”

  “Shark attacks on divers are not unheard of but are also not as common as people might think. I’ve been on dives and fed sharks, and I thought it was exhilarating. We might see some sharks, but I doubt they’ll bother us or give us any trouble. We can spend some extra time drilling on what to do if you are attacked by a shark, if you like.”

  “That would be a good idea. Thanks,” I added.

  “The other thing we’re going to be working on today is the weight system. Most people need weight
s to help them sink into the water. We’ll be practicing today with both weight belts and integrated weights.”

  Wes went over every piece of equipment in detail and then asked us all to get into the deep end of the pool. Mr. Kadam and I were first in. I cleared the water out of my eyes just in time to see Ren, Kishan, and Wes peel off their shirts. Sheesh, it’s like being at a GQ beach photo shoot. I could easily picture Jennifer hyperventilating at the sight. I snorted. She’d likely faint and drown if she was in my position. I was already used to seeing muscular bronzed chests, but even I had a hard time paying attention. If I ever intended to walk down the beach with any of them, I’d have to warn them to prepare for swooning girls falling at their feet. Hmm, good thing we’re taking CPR later.

  Wes had us practice using different weights and getting a feel for how they pulled us down. The biggest one was too heavy for me. I couldn’t resurface carrying it, so I left it on the bottom for Kishan to retrieve. When Wes was satisfied, he had us all swim laps for the next half hour. He said we’d reconvene in the afternoon in the media room to get certified in first aid and CPR.

  I was starving by the time we had lunch and ate a huge sandwich. Then I showered, changed, and met our group in the media room. I’d taken first aid and CPR classes before, but this was all new to Ren and Kishan. They both listened attentively and learned quickly. I partnered with Mr. Kadam to keep peace between the brothers. He wrapped a sling around my arm, and I practiced the Heimlich maneuver on him.

  Ren wasn’t happy having to sit so far away, but he’d spent most of the day near me, and the effect it was having on him showed. I asked during a break how he was doing. He just smiled and said, “Headache.” I moved even farther away at that point, although Wes kept trying to get me back into the circle.

  Ren left after class and either skipped dinner or ate in his room. Kishan purposefully sat next to me, leaving no option for Wes except to take the seat across from us.

  Wes and I chatted again, but it didn’t annoy Kishan as much as it had before. Instead, Kishan seemed surprisingly content to sit and listen to our conversation.