[photo by Aaron Bur from Unsplash]

Leni

The ocean water is my anti-anxiety drug of choice. And yet here I am, feet covered, legs glistening with salty droplets and I can't catch my breath. I risk another glance at the couple stationed in front of the dunes. It's definitely them. Matt's chair is reclined and there's a shirt covering his face. Dee is absorbed in the open book on her lap—but that could change any moment.

"I'm sorry," I say, turning my attention back to Topher. "I really need to go."

He rakes a hand through his hair. "Is there another day—a better time?"

There's tension in his voice now, and maybe a hint of desperation in the way his eyes blink as they study mine. "Um, I might've missed something. A better time for what?"

He huffs out a breath, obviously relieved. "Another walk. So that we might continue our conversation? I suggested Saturday at ten o'clock."

"Sure, that works. Do you know the foundation stones?"

"All too well," he says. Like he's sharing an inside joke.

And I guess he is. We're planning a return to the scene of the crime. I glance at Dee—still reading—and say, "I'll meet you there Saturday morning."

"Great."

Topher from London has a very nice smile.

But I need him to walk away and he doesn't seem to be taking the hint. "Okay. Well..." I take a couple of backward steps, say, "See you then," and turn.

He doesn't reply and I don't look back. So I can't be sure he's still standing there: hands in his pockets, eyes crinkled with satisfaction, watching me. But it sure feels that way.

I walk faster, focusing on the thin sheets of water breaking around my feet. And chanting with each step: Calm down, calm down, calm down.

It helps. And when I finally dare to peek over my shoulder, the tightness in my chest subsides a little more. Topher is almost to the bend in the shoreline. Soon he'll be out of sight completely. I pivot, leaving an intentional, crescent-shaped gouge in the sand. Then I smile. I haven't done that since I was ten. I haven't felt like this—this childlike buoyancy—in at least ten years.

Dee must be genuinely absorbed in that book. It takes longer than usual for her to get the you're-being-watched vibe. When she does, she finds me and her shoulders sag.

Hm. Disappointment or relief?

If she's relieved to see me, then she probably didn't see Topher—which is good. But that means she's worried about something else—something Leni-related—and that is...

Annoying, if I'm being honest.

I sit in the warm sand beside her, gesturing to Matt. "What time did he get here?"

"About twenty minutes after you left the cottage."

"This isn't his usual nap spot."

"He said he wasn't tired," Dee says, with an unconvincing shrug. "But that was after I told him you were out here searching for your new man."

I sift my fingers through the sugary sand. I expected Dee to tell Matt. I'm even grateful for it—I'm dying to hear his opinion. But there's an edge to Dee's tone. It sounds like annoyance. But it could just as easily be smugness.

Either way, the time isn't right. I want to hold onto my news a little longer—to hold onto the relief. I was starting to lose faith in my meant-to-find-him conviction. But Topher had a conviction of his own. He's been combing the beach obsessively.

The memory of his words give me goose bumps all over again.

"Speaking of men," Dee says. Definitely annoyed. "I ran into John today."

John? "From the aquarium?"

"Yes. I went into Manteo at lunch. He came out of the cafe next to the stationary shop and we literally collided. He told me about the shark tank."

My heart gives a little jolt. Maybe now is the time to mention Topher. It would be a great distraction.

"Is that something you've been doing on a regular basis?" Dee asks before I can summon the words. "You can't even make it through an eight-hour workday now? Why didn't you tell me, Len? What are we going to do?"

"I didn't tell you because it's not a big deal."

"He saw you, Leni. Fully submerged, without a wetsuit or a respirator! He remarked on your amazing lung capacity and I just about had a heart attack because for a moment, I thought he knew—I thought you told him. And it wasn't easy to reassure myself that you wouldn't do something so incredibly reckless since you did, in fact, do an incredibly reckless thing on Sunday."

"I didn't tell John. He's just..."

"Smart and extremely observant," Dee finishes. "Especially when it comes to you."

I close my eyes to keep from rolling them at my sister's implication. Dee is wrong. John's not attracted to me. He's just...friendly. "I'm sorry about your almost heart attack, but I promise it only happened once. John had already said goodbye—and even though I thought he was gone, I was still very careful. I didn't hold my breath any longer than someone normal would."

"Okay, Len, but it's not normal to get into a tank full of sharks for no apparent reason. John is worried about you—which means he'll be watching you even closer now."

"You're absolutely right and it won't happen again."

"Are you placating me?"

"I'm a-gree-ing with you." I shift my legs, turning my face into the onshore wind. And gather my hair, covertly rubbing the back of my neck before I twist it into a knot.

"This is my fault, isn't it? I'm stressing you out."

"No, it's—"

"I know you, Leni. You need to swim right now because of this conversation."

"Fine." I openly scratch my neck and shoulders "You're right about the stress. But it's temporary. The same thing happened after Mom died and we were trying to figure out college. I needed more ocean time then, remember? But once everything was settled I went back to swimming twice a day."

"I remember," Dee says, her eyes rimmed in red.

Of course they are, because now—just eight weeks before the wedding—is the worst possible time for me to remind her that neither of our parents will be part of the celebration.

"Hey." I reach for her hand. "Guess who found me today."

The distraction works. "The surfer guy?" Dee asks, her demeanor instantly repaired.

"Yeah. I was just walking with him. I thought for sure you would look up and see—and come running out to meet him."

"I sure as hell would have," Matt says from under his Salt Life t-shirt.

I rake through the sand and find a broken shell to toss at him. It lands perfectly on his tanned washboard abs and he pulls his shirt away to reveal his grin.

"How did it go?" Dee asks, sounding equal parts excited and nervous. "Does he have any idea what you did for him?"

"Well..." I don't want to tip the scales of Dee's fragile mood, but I don't think I can hold back the details. "He knows about his broken arm—he had it x-rayed. And...he's a doctor."

Matt sits up, cursing. Dee's eyes and mouth go wide.

"I know," I say. "I almost laughed when he told me—inappropriately of course. I know a medical professional is probably the worst person I could reveal myself to but..."

"It's not funny, Len. This is bad—like, catastrophically. It's a disaster!"

"I wouldn't go that far. But I promise, I am taking this seriously. I told him about my lifeguarding experience and that seemed to satisfy his curiosity."

"I seriously doubt that."

"I promise you, he's not thinking that I healed him—and even if he is, he can't tell anyone because no one in their right mind would believe it. Right, Matt? You didn't believe me until you stepped on that rusted nail."

Matt lies back down, pulling the shirt back over his face. "I'm not gettin' in the middle of this."

Dee gives this a huffy sigh as she refocuses on me. "What about your curiosity?" Her eyes are still a little wide but overall she seems a little less frantic. "Do you have any reason, now that you've talked to him, to believe he is who you hope he is?"

"I have the same reasons. Topher is from Europe—like my rosary—and my birthmark's reaction."

"Nothing new, though?"

Nothing good. "I was wrong about his hair. Apparently what I thought was sandy blond was actually just sand-covered light brown. And he had a sunburn. So..."

"No built-in sunscreen," Dee says, all confidence now.

And I can't argue the point. I had the same thought when I noticed his red arms. Is it reasonable to assume we're related if Topher doesn't share any of my genetic defects?

"But my birthmark's reaction is the reason that carries the most weight," I say. "And I confirmed it again. It's every bit as intense as it was yesterday."

Matt pulls his shirt down—just enough to expose his eyebrows, waggling suggestively above his warm brown eyes.

"Shut up," I say, looking for something else to throw at him. "I confirmed it when I poked his arm to check for sunburn."

"Dee," Matt says, deep and rumbly. "Please inform your sister that it's not okay to go around poking strange men."  

She punches his arm. "What's next," she asks me. "Please tell me you got the man's phone number."

"Oh—um, that would've been a good idea. But no, we made plans to meet on Saturday morning."

"Good," Dee says. "That gives us some time to make plans for damage control."