“He’s got a way with animals. Kids, too.”
“How long have you known him?”
“A long time. Laird and I met in college, and Laird introduced me to him. They’ve been friends since they were kids. Actually, he was the best man at our wedding. And speak of the devil . . . Hey, Travis.”
“Hey,” he said. “Should be fun today, huh?” Behind him, Stephanie was perched behind the wheel, pretending not to watch them.
“Hopefully it won’t get too windy.”
Allison looked around. “I don’t think it will.”
“Why?” Gabby pressed. “What happens if it’s windy?”
“Nothing good when you’re parasailing,” Travis answered. “Basically, the chute could collapse in places, the lines could get tangled, and that’s the last thing you want in a parachute.”
Gabby had an image of herself spinning out of control as she rushed toward the water.
“Don’t worry,” Travis reassured her. “If I even suspect a problem, no one goes up.”
“I hope not,” Allison chimed in. “But I’d like to volunteer Laird to be the first.”
“Why?”
“Because he was supposed to paint Josie’s room this week—he promised me over and over—but is it painted? Of course not. It’ll serve him right.”
“He’ll have to stand in line. Megan already volunteered Joe to go first. Something about not spending enough time with the family after work.”
Listening to their familiar banter, Gabby felt like a spectator. She wished that Stephanie hadn’t left her side; oddly, she realized, Stephanie already felt like the closest thing she had to a friend in Beaufort.
“Hold on!” Stephanie shouted, rotating the wheel.
Travis instinctively grabbed the side of the boat as it hit a large wake and the bow rose and fell with a thud. Allison’s attention was diverted to the kids, and she rushed toward Josie, who’d fallen and was already beginning to cry. Laird pulled her to her feet with one arm.
“You were supposed to be holding her!” Allison reproached him while reaching for Josie. “Come here, baby. Mommy’s got you. . . .”
“I was holding her!” Laird protested. “Maybe if Dale Earnhardt here was watching where she was going . . .”
“Don’t bring me into this,” Stephanie said, tossing her head. “I said to hold on, but I guess you didn’t listen. It’s not like I can control the swells out here.”
“But you could go a little slower. . . .”
Travis shook his head and took a seat beside Gabby.
“Is it always like this?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” he said. “At least since the kids have been around. Rest assured that each of the kids will have a few tearful moments today. But that’s what keeps it interesting.” He leaned back, planting his feet wide. “How’d you like my sister?”
With the sun behind him, his features were difficult to discern. “I like her. She’s . . . unique.”
“She seems taken with you, too. If she didn’t like you, believe me—she would have let me know. As smart as she is, she doesn’t always know when to keep her opinions to herself. If you ask me, I think she was secretly adopted by my parents.”
“I don’t think so. If you let your hair grow a little longer, you two could pass for sisters.”
He laughed. “You sound like her now.”
“I guess she rubbed off on me.”
“Did you get a chance to meet everyone else?”
“Briefly. I visited with Allison for a bit, but that’s all.”
“They’re the nicest bunch of people you’ll ever meet,” Travis said. “More like family than friends.”
She studied Travis as he pulled the baseball cap from his head, suddenly grasping what had happened. “Stephanie sent you back here to talk to me, didn’t she.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “She reminded me that you were my guest and that I’d be rude if I didn’t make sure you were comfortable.”
“I’m fine.” She waved a hand. “If you want to go drive the boat again, feel free. I’m perfectly happy enjoying the view.”
“Have you ever been over to Cape Lookout?” Travis asked.
“No.”
“It’s a national park, and there’s a cove that’s great for little kids because the waves don’t break there. And on the far side—the Atlantic side—there’s a white-sand beach that’s unspoiled, which is almost impossible to find anymore.”
When he was finished, Gabby watched as he turned his attention to Beaufort. The profile of the town was visible; just beyond the marina where the masts of sailboats pointed toward the sky like upraised fingers, she could see the restaurants lining the waterfront. In every direction, there were boats and Jet Skis zipping past, leaving whitewashed curls of water behind them. Despite herself, she was conscious of the gentle way his body leaned against hers as the boat glided through the water.
“It’s a pretty town,” she finally said.
“I’ve always loved it,” he agreed. “Growing up, I used to dream about moving to a big city, but in the end, this is home for me.”
They turned toward the inlet. Behind them, Beaufort grew smaller; up ahead, the waters of Onslow Bay embraced the Atlantic. A solitary cloud drifted overhead, puffy and full, as if molded from snow. The gentle blue sky spread over water speckled with golden prisms of sunlight. In time, the hectic activity of Back Sound gave way to a sense of isolation, broken only by the sight of an occasional boat pulling into the shallows of Shackleford Banks. The three couples at the front of the boat were as transfixed by the view as she was, and even the kids seemed to have quieted. They sat contentedly on laps, their bodies relaxed, as if they were ready for a nap. Gabby could feel the wind whipping through her hair and the balm of the summer sun.
“Hey, Trav,” Stephanie called out, “is this okay?”
Travis broke from his reverie and glanced around.
“Let’s go a bit farther. I want to make sure we have enough room. We’ve got a rookie on board.”
Stephanie nodded, and the boat accelerated again.
Gabby leaned toward him. “How does this work, by the way?”
“It’s easy,” he said. “First, I fill the parachute and get it ready to accept the harnesses by using that bar over there.” He pointed toward the corner of the boat. “Then, you and your partner put the harnesses on, I clip those to the long bar, and you take a seat on the platform. I start the crank and you lift off. It takes a couple of minutes to reach the right height, and then . . . well, you float around. You get a great view of Beaufort and the lighthouse, and—because the weather’s been so clear—you might get to see some dolphins, porpoises, rays, sharks, even turtles. I’ve seen whales on occasion. We might slow the boat, let you dunk your feet, and then go up again. It’s a blast.”
“Sharks?”
“Of course. It’s the ocean.”
“Do they bite?”
“Some do. Bull sharks can be pretty nasty.”
“Then I’d rather not be dunked, thank you very much.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. They won’t bother you.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“I’ve never, in all the years I’ve done this, heard of anyone getting bitten by a shark while parasailing. You’re in the water for maybe two or three seconds at the most. And usually sharks feed at dusk.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“How about if I’m with you? Then would you try it? You shouldn’t miss it.”
She hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “I’ll think about it,” she offered. “I’m not promising anything.”
“Fair enough.”
“Of course, you’re assuming that you and I will go up together.”
He winked as he flashed that smile of his. “Of course.”
Gabby tried to ignore the leaping sensation in her stomach. Instead, she reached for her bag and pulled out some lotion. After dabbing a bit on her hand, she began nervously t
o apply some to her face, trying to regain some distance.
“Stephanie tells me you’re a world traveler.”
“I’ve traveled a bit.”
“She made it sound like more than that. Like you’ve pretty much been everywhere.”
He shook his head. “I wish. Believe me, there are lots of places I haven’t seen.”
“What’s been your favorite place?”
He took a while to answer, a wistful expression on his face. “I don’t know.”
“Well . . . where would you suggest I go?”
“It’s not like that,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Traveling has less to do with seeing things than experiencing them. . . .” He surveyed the water, gathering his thoughts. “Let me put it this way. When I graduated from college, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I just decided to take a year to see the world. I had a bit of money saved—not as much as I thought I needed—but I packed some gear and my bike and caught a flight to Europe. I spent the first three months there just . . . doing whatever I felt like, and it rarely had anything to do with what I was supposed to see. I didn’t even have a planned itinerary. Don’t get me wrong—I saw a lot. But when I think back on those months, I mostly remember the friends I made along the way and the good times we spent together. Like in Italy, I saw the Colosseum in Rome and the canals in Venice, but what I really remember was a weekend I spent in Bari—this out-of-the-way city in the southern part of the country that you’ve probably never heard of—with some Italian students I happened to meet. They took me to this little bar where a local band was playing, and even though most of them didn’t speak a word of English and my Italian was limited to menu items, we ended up laughing all night long. After that, they showed me around Lecce and Matera, and little by little, we became good friends. Same type of thing in France and Norway and Germany. I stayed in hostels when I had to, but most of the time I’d just show up in a city and somehow meet someone who would offer to let me stay with them for a little while. I’d find odd jobs to pick up extra spending money, and when I was ready for someplace new, I’d just take off. At first, I thought it was easy because Europe and America are a lot alike. But the same thing happened when I went to Syria and Ethiopia and South Africa and Japan and China. At times, it almost felt like I was destined to take the trip, like all the people I met had somehow been waiting for me. But . . .”
He paused, looking directly at her.
“But I’m different now than I was then. Just like I was different at the end of the trip than I’d been at the beginning. And I’ll be different tomorrow than I am today. And what that means is that I can never replicate that trip. Even if I went to the same places and met the same people, it wouldn’t be the same. My experience wouldn’t be the same. To me, that’s what traveling should be about. Meeting people, learning to not only appreciate a different culture, but really enjoy it like a local, following whatever impulse strikes you. So how could I recommend a trip to someone else, if I don’t even know what to expect? My advice would be to make a list of places on some index cards, shuffle them, and pick any five at random. Then just . . . go and see what happens. If you have the right mind-set, it doesn’t matter where you end up or how much money you brought. It’ll be something you’ll remember forever.”
Gabby was silent as she digested this. “Wow,” she finally said.
“What?”
“You make it sound so . . . romantic.”
In the ensuing quiet, Stephanie began to slow the boat and Travis sat up straighter. When his sister glanced at him, he nodded and stood up. Stephanie lowered the throttle, allowing the boat to slow even further.
“We’re ready,” he said, and moved to a storage box. Pulling out the parachute, he asked, “Are you up for a new experience?”
Gabby swallowed. “I can’t wait.”
Nine
Once the parachute was filled and harnesses strapped on, Joe and Megan lifted off first, followed by Allison and Laird, then Matt and Liz. One by one, the couples sat on the platform and were lifted into the air, the tow rope unwinding until they were a hundred feet up. From Gabby’s spot on the boat, they looked small and inconsequential as they drifted over the water. Travis, who’d taken the wheel from Stephanie, kept the boat at a steady speed, making large, wide turns, then finally brought the boat to a gradual halt, allowing the riders to drift toward the sea. Just as their feet grazed the water, he’d gun the throttle, and the chute would rush skyward like a kite being pulled by a boy running in the park.
Everyone was chattering as they reached the platform, talking about the fish or dolphins they’d seen, but Gabby nonetheless felt herself growing nervous as her turn approached. Stephanie, splayed out in her bikini, was working on her tan and nursing a beer in the front of the boat. She raised the beer in salute.
“Here’s getting to know you, kid.”
Travis tossed aside his baseball cap. “C’mon,” he said to Gabby, “I’ll help you with your harness.”
After stepping off the platform, Liz handed over the life preserver.
“It’s so much fun,” she said. “You’re going to love it.”
Travis led Gabby to the platform. After hopping up, he bent over, offering a hand. She could feel the warmth in it as he helped her up. The harness lay crumpled, and he pointed toward two open loops.
“Step in those and pull it up. I’ll tighten it for you.”
She held her body steady against the tugs of the canvas straps. “That’s it?”
“Almost. When you sit on the platform, keep the wide strap under your thighs. You don’t want it under your . . . backside, because that doesn’t support your weight as well. And you might want to take off your shirt, unless you don’t mind getting it wet.”
She slipped off her shirt, trying not to feel nervous.
If Travis noticed her self-consciousness, he gave no sign. Instead, he hooked up the straps of her harness to the bar, then his own, then motioned for her to sit.
“It’s under your thighs, right?” Travis asked. When she nodded, he smiled. “Just relax and enjoy, okay?”
A second later, Joe pushed the throttle, the chute filled, and Gabby and Travis were lifted from the deck. In the boat, she felt everyone’s eyes on them as they rose diagonally toward the sky. Gabby gripped the canvas straps so hard that her knuckles turned white while the boat grew smaller. In time, the tow rope to the boat captured her attention like a hypnotic decoy. It quickly felt as if she were a whole lot higher than anyone else had been, and she was about to say something when she felt Travis touch her shoulder.
“Look over there!” he said, pointing. “There’s a ray! Can you see it?”
She saw it, black and sleek, moving beneath the surface like a slow-motion butterfly.
“And a pod of dolphins! Over there! Near the banks!”
As she marveled at the sight, her nervousness started to subside. Instead, she began to soak in the view of everything below—the town, the families sprawled on the beaches, the boats, the water. As she relaxed, she found herself thinking that she could probably spend an hour up here without ever growing tired of it. It was extraordinary to drift along at this elevation, coasting effortlessly on a wind current, as if she were a bird. Despite the heat, the breeze kept her cool, and as she rocked her feet back and forth, she felt the harness sway.
“Are you willing to be dipped?” he asked. “I promise it’ll be fun.”
“Let’s do it,” she agreed. To her ears, her voice sounded strangely confident.
Travis engaged Joe in a quick series of hand signals, and beneath her, the whine of the boat suddenly diminished. The parachute began to descend. Staring at the rapidly approaching water, she scanned the surface to make sure nothing was lurking below.
The parachute dipped lower and lower, and though she lifted her legs, she felt cold water splash on her lower body. Just when she thought she was going to have to start treading water, the boat accelerated a
nd they shot skyward again. Gabby felt adrenaline surge through her body and didn’t bother trying to hide her grin.
Travis nudged her. “See? It wasn’t bad at all.”
“Can we do that again?” she asked.
Travis and Gabby rode for another quarter hour, dipping two or three more times; once they were brought back to the boat, each couple rode once more. By then, the sun was high in the sky and the kids were getting fussy. Travis steered the boat toward the cove at Cape Lookout. The water grew shallow, and Travis stopped the boat; Joe tossed the anchor overboard, removed his shirt, and followed the anchor into the water. The water was waist-deep, and with practiced ease, Matt handed him a cooler. Matt took off his shirt and jumped in; Joe handed him a cooler, then followed him into the water while Travis took his place. When Travis jumped in, he carried a small, portable grill and bag of charcoal briquettes. Simultaneously, the mothers hopped in the water and took hold of the kids. In minutes, only Stephanie and Gabby remained on board. Gabby stood in the back of the boat, thinking she should have helped, while Stephanie, seemingly oblivious to the commotion, lay sprawled on the seats at the front of the boat, continuing to collect the sun.
“I’m on vacation, so I feel no need to volunteer my services,” Stephanie announced, her body as still as the boat itself. “And they’re so good at it, I feel no guilt about being a slacker.”
“You’re not a slacker.”
“Of course I am. Everyone should be a slacker now and then. As Confucius once said, ‘He who does nothing is the one who does nothing.’”
Gabby pondered the words, then furrowed her brow. “Did Confucius really say that?”
Sunglasses in place, Stephanie managed the tiniest of shrugs. “No, but who cares? The point is, they had it handled, and most likely they found some sort of self-satisfaction in their industriousness. Who am I to deprive them of that?”
Gabby put her hands on her hips. “Or maybe you just wanted to be lazy.”
Stephanie grinned. “Like Jesus said, ‘Blessed are the lazy who lie in boats, for they shall inherit a suntan.’”