Turtle Soup Read online

  Polk sat up slowly as if he didn't know where he was. He gave her a grin that would have been sheepish had he any teeth.

  "What are you doing here?" She tried to sound playful but couldn't keep the pity out of her voice. "I almost stepped on you." She stood up and picked up the trash bag. "You hungry?"

  He gave a quick nod as if this was a no-brainer. She felt his eyes follow her to the dumpster while she threw the bag away. Didn't he have anywhere else he could go? She sighed.

  "Come on," she motioned, as she went back inside. He didn't follow but stayed at the back door like a puppy. Once she went back to check on him to make sure he hadn't left. When she returned with a takeout box full of day old bread and cookies, his eyes flickered with life.

  "Here." She handed it to him and put her hands on her hips when he walked away without a word. "You need to find somewhere safe to sleep at night," she scolded. "Do you want some water?" He kept going, his gait delicate and wise.

  Sara returned to the kitchen and punched down the overnight dough. She hadn't slept well. Her mind had revolved around Jack and his planner, the money shortage, and the rent due.

  She'd never been afraid to ask for help when she really needed it, but there was no one left to ask. She'd made a mistake choosing the location for Turtle Soup. Wanting to be a part of revitalizing had been noble, but she didn't have the means. She was trying too hard to save the world, she realized, and it wasn't possible this way. The phone rang and she picked it up with sticky hands.

  "You made it to work."

  "I'm here," she told her sister. "Worn out, but I'm here."

  "You want to talk about last night?"

  "Not right now. Don't you have an appointment?"

  "Group therapy," Ellen answered. "I'm worried about you. You've been pouting around for days."

  "I'm fine." Sara hadn't told her about the planner. She couldn't bear to admit Jack didn't like her as much as she'd thought. "I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to do about this place."

  "Give it another month."

  "I don't think the bank will wait. I'm already late. Besides, I'll never make enough in a few weeks to catch up."

  Ellen was quiet as if struggling for a solution.

  "You better stick to counseling divorcees."

  "You're my sister; I want to help you out."

  "Thanks, but you've done more than enough. I've got to finish this on my own." As soon as she said it, she pictured Polk alone, huddled on her back doorstep.

  ****

  The next evening was another dive class. Soon everyone would travel to a flooded rock quarry for certification. Besides practicing the skills they'd already been taught, there was going to be some crisis training.

  Sara baked like a fiend all day, her sagging hopes crushed by the unlucky head count of seven customers from open to close. She wrapped all of the leftovers and stored the soup in the freezer except for a container of jalapeño soup. She wanted to cook a nice meal for Ellen and Carly to make up for all of the strain she'd put on them.

  It made a good excuse not to attend class. She knew she needed the practice, but she couldn't bring herself to go. Jack would come. She knew he would. Even if he didn't talk to her, his presence would be a diversion she didn't need. She lacked confidence, she knew, to pass off all of the requirements. Knowing he would be watching made it worse. A steamy rain poured over the pollen-smeared roads. It seemed to drum out a decision for her.

  Carly tossed a salad and Sara made twice baked potatoes then broiled some chicken. The storm moved in full force, driving at the windows and sucking power from the lights so that they flickered. They huddled around the table slurping sour cream from their spuds.

  "How come you didn't go to class tonight?" Carly, ever the curious, dove right in to her private life.

  "I've got too much on my mind." Across the table, Ellen studied her but said nothing.

  "Will they let you go on the trip?"

  "I've got to pass the written first."

  "There's a written?" Carly made a face.

  "It's just a multiple choice, from the manual. You've got to have a basic understanding of the principles before they let you take off with an air tank."

  "When is it?"

  Sara shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "A couple weeks."

  "I thought you were practicing for the certification dive tonight," Ellen interrupted.

  "We are. We're going to run through all of the skills on the bottom just like they will when we go on the certification dive."

  "Are there any fish in the quarry?" Carly asked.

  Sara nodded. "Bass and catfish."

  "That'd be weird."

  "At least it's something I'm familiar with."

  Carly shivered. I don't know if I could handle getting in the water with sharks."

  "I'm not sure if I could ever handle it either, but when I'm at the beach or even at the aquarium, I get a feeling like I'm missing out on something right at my feet and I just have to get in the door."

  "It's awe," Ellen said quietly. "I was really nervous the first salt water dive I did, then they couldn't get me out." She winked at Sara from across the table. "Think of all the fun we'll have now when we go to Florida. We can dive together."

  "What about me?" Carly pouted. "I don't know why you won't let me do it."

  "You need to be older," her mother insisted.

  "Why? Sara's scared out of her mind and she's doing it."

  "I'm not afraid of breathing underwater." Sara pushed her parents out of her mind, knowing Carly didn't mean to hurt her. "There's a lot more to it."

  "I wouldn't be afraid either," her niece insisted.

  "I don't know if I'm even going to go through with it," she confessed. "I don't know why I took the class. It's something I've dreamed of doing but never thought I'd actually try."

  Suddenly her true feelings tumbled out. "I'm scared to death of having my mask bumped off and not being able to get it back on. I'm worried about getting tangled up in lines and not being able to get loose. Sometimes I have trouble with buoyancy. If I can't find the emergency release on my vest, I could shoot up to the surface and die."

  "Depends how deep you are," Ellen mumbled. She chewed nonchalantly on a piece of meat. "That's what the class is for. Those are all rare possibilities. As long as you practice and know what to do in situations like that, it ends well."

  "You probably have a higher chance of being in a car accident," Carly added. "Besides, you can't stay holed up in a kitchen forever."

  "I don't hole up in the kitchen," said Sara.

  "Yes you do. You opened Turtle Soup, and that was good, but what's a dream worth if you haven't conquered all your fears?"

  Sara didn't have an answer.

  ****

  After she'd fed them, Sara disappeared, letting them clean up. She sat in her room, flipping through an old address book as she pondered Polk and the solution he'd inspired. There were several people in her e-mail bookmarks. If the same assistant manager still worked at the supply warehouse she used, she might be able to hit him up for some quarterly donations.

  She dialed her old boss first. The woman, all class and sophistication, was happy to hear from her and wondered if she was interested in a new job, but stopped patronizing Sara immediately when she spilled out her idea. When Sara hung up, she sat quietly for a few moments soaking up the promise of success. Her old catering company was in; if everyone was cooperative, it might come together.

  She braced herself for a denial, and called the first restaurant on her list. It was an Italian eatery just a few hundred yards from Turtle Soup. The owner, Joan Cavetti was surprised to hear from her.

  "I'm sorry your place isn't doing well."

  "Too much competition," Sara teased. "What I called about is the changes I'm going to make to Turtle Soup. You know the homeless fellow that sleeps in the alley sometimes?"

  "Oh, yes. We know him. He likes to fish through our dumpster."

  "Mine, t
oo," Sara said quickly. She went on to explain her circumstances and what she hoped could be done, not only to save her place, but to watch out for the people on the streets that wandered around their section of the city.

  "I don't know," Joan said carefully. "We're trying to revitalize the area and bring in more businesses. Good company, you know," she hinted.

  "It doesn't matter what kind of businesses come into the area," Sara argued. "These people have nowhere else to go. The better company you and I can keep, the more there'll be to offer."

  "I'm not sure my customers would be comfortable with people pandering up and down the street."

  "They already do. And if we can make Turtle Soup a place for them to get some food, they won't have to."

  "I'll think about it," the woman promised.

  Sara put a question mark beside her name and dialed the next number. She worked the phone, jotting notes and outlining plans. Her glance occasionally fell on the dive manual beside her bed. She still had the written test to worry about before she even considered diving a forty foot deep quarry. The new hope she had for Turtle Soup seemed to brace her against the subconscious fears. Carly was right. If she did not go after the things she both dreamed and feared, she wasn't really living after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jack ordered takeout. Although the pasta melted in his mouth and the veal made his toes curl, he felt like a traitor. It wasn't fair. He couldn't eat at Turtle Soup seven days a week. Fast food made him feel ill, so eating something at his own place was the only solution. He made a mental note to check into cooking lessons.

  Maybe he suffocated Sara showing up at her store several times a week. All of the excuses he made to be around her were just that, excuses. Did she have any inkling of how much he craved her? The clock finally hit seven and he locked his office door and made a beeline for the pool.

  James Byron met him in the hall. The older man caught him by the arm, one hand swinging an open soda. "Jack! My favorite biologist. How's business?"

  "Great. What can I do for you?"

  Byron took a swig and smacked his tongue. "What can you do for me? What can I do for you?"

  Jack stared, wondering if the man was mixing his drinks.

  "I've got some news. We're meeting Friday to vote on arrangements for the new exhibit space. You still want in?"

  "Absolutely."

  "We're asking some of the department heads to come in and pitch us their proposals."

  "I guess that means me." Jack gave him a winning smile.

  "I'm looking forward to seeing what you got up your sleeve."

  Jack pumped his hand and left Byron standing beside the elevator grinning like an intoxicated Santa Claus.

  On the way to Guffin's classroom, he considered Jessica's influence. Obviously she hadn't gotten to Byron yet. If anyone was going to throw a wrench in his program, it would be her. He hadn't heard from her since she'd caught him liplocked with Sara, and he was glad. If she was waiting for him to call, she was wasting her time. It was a bad idea to start with, and he'd never intended for it to go further than a professional friendship. She'd had other ideas, but he'd allowed it, and that made it more his fault than anyone else's.

  He thought about Sara's genuineness. He couldn't blame her for being angry, but to shut him out completely was unfair. She was so willing to give everyone else in the world a chance, why not him? He caught his reflection in the glass door that led to the pool. He wanted a chance, he realized. He truly did.

  People stood about the deck, checking air tanks and attaching their tanks to their BC's. There was no golden ponytail to be seen so he took the stairs. She wasn't in there either, but Guffin was.

  "You need some help tonight?"

  Guffin looked up from a clipboard. "You already changed?"

  "I figured you'd say yes." Jack glanced down at his shorty.

  "Go pick out a half dozen and get warmed up. We need to go through the skills, one at a time on the shelf."

  "You don't want them on the bottom?"

  "I'll take the whole class down as a group and do a final run before we teach emergency ascents."

  Jack peeked through the blinds to see if Sara had arrived. "I got dibs on Sara when she comes in."

  Guffin laughed. "Is that why you're here? Take your pick, but I can't wait on her, we need to get started."

  Jack ran his group through removing and replacing their regulator and vests, and flooding their masks and draining the water. He dawdled on the shelf, occasionally popping up to see if she'd come in late but gave up after a half hour. They did the last skill check, taking their masks completely off and replacing them with no major problems. He was comfortable taking them to the bottom of the pool.

  Emergency ascents came last. Guffin had everyone get out of the water and gave the lecture. His voice echoed off the rafters with information Jack knew like the beating of his own heart. The entire routine was ingrained into his cells. He had done it in practice hundreds of times. He had done it in real life twice: Once when he'd cut his hand with a trio of gray reef sharks nearby, and the day Holly had died.

  He'd been twenty feet under in the first instance, almost ninety on the other. He'd almost killed himself trying to save her. She hadn't made it. She'd raced too fast toward the surface. His mind tried to flash back and he mentally threw up a wall to keep from reminiscing.

  Guffin called for Jack to take his group down and run through emergency ascents. Jack left all but one of the students on the surface, preferring to work with them one at a time, one on one. Normally the class all went down together. They'd partner up, doing an ascent while sharing air, and then repeat the skill individually. It was easy to pass out, even in fifteen feet of water, and crucial for them to exhale in a continuous stream.

  Everyone managed without any problems but Jack took them back down for a safety stop. He didn't want anyone "bent" or going home to develop problems later in the night. His students were the last ones out of the pool, and he left them to shower and put their own equipment away. Guffin was watching from upstairs, and Jack knew his older friend was thinking about Holly and wondering if Jack would ever get over what had happened to her.

  Conner had scheduled them both to be in Nassau by the weekend. The thought of returning to his boat almost brought Jack to tears. He was not cut out for oxfords and loafers. Somehow he'd farmed out a clutch of interns to do his work and he'd ended up the land lubber.

  It was time to go home and that meant leaving Sara behind. She hadn't shown up. She wasn't the strongest diver, and probably not ready for certification. To miss one of the final classes before the certification dive, especially one where emergencies were covered, was irresponsible.

  ****

  Friday he called Conner on his way to work. He wanted to spill everything; how he'd blown it with Sara and how she hadn't spoken to him for days. Instead they discussed the board meeting Byron had scheduled that afternoon and the opportunity to move the exhibit.

  Conner finally got around to her on his own. "How did things work out for Sara?"

  "She didn't show up for class."

  "How many are left?"

  "One as far as I know."

  "You going with them to the quarry?"

  "I won't be here."

  "Good, because we need you."

  "I'd rather tag jellyfish than hang around here anymore."

  "I thought you two would hook up."

  "She's too good for me."

  "Could have told you that. Why don't you ask her to come down?"

  "Sara?" Jack shook his head automatically. "We're barely speaking. After I meet with the board, I'm catching the first flight out of town."

  When he got to the office he had Trudy book him a plane for the next morning. He fiddled around unable to get Sara out of his thoughts. Trudy watched him with concern, and tried to field his calls. She asked about Sara as if reading his mind but he changed the subject. There wasn't anything he could do except talk to Guffin. He went to s
ee him as the afternoon waned. The old salt was filling air tanks for the next class.

  "You need to make your students do that." Jack grabbed a plastic chair and took a seat beside the pool.

  Guffin grunted as he got up off his knees. "They'd blow them up," he growled. He picked up another empty one. Jack dove in.

  "I need you to do me a big favor."

  "Not surprised."

  "I need you to watch out for Sara. I'm worried about her."

  "I'm the instructor. That's my job."

  "Do you think she's ready?" Jack leaned forward. "She's missed class and I've watched her close enough to feel uneasy."

  "It's just nerves."

  "I'm not comfortable sending her into a quarry to certify when she can't pull it off in here."

  Guffin let go of the tank and took a stand. "It's not your call, Jack. It's mine."

  Jack expected this. He didn't blame him for balking at the interference. He would have done the same thing. "You know her parents drowned," he said carefully.

  "No, I didn't, but that doesn't mean she can't certify."

  "I know that. I'm just worried she might panic. She's told me herself she doesn't know if she can do it."

  "That's between me and her," Guffin said firmly as he tightened a valve. Jack waited for him to look up, to see how serious he felt. He met Jack's eyes with his seasoned ones. "I'll be right beside her."

  After shaking hands, Jack went to the lockers. He wasn't going to change, but he wanted to clean up before the meeting. His no-tie rule suddenly seemed conceited and he wondered if he had a spare in a drawer. Trudy would know but she'd already left for the day. A faint smell of something flowery, her lingering maternal scent, permeated her work area. He found a file with a yellow tag on his own desk. She'd run copies of his presentation, scanned sketches for the new exhibit area, and jotted down detailed instructions on where to start the power point program. For her age, she was a technological wonder.