The Sky Beneath Her(46)

By the time I arrived at Arthur’s, it was buzzing with customers. I saw contractors I’d noticed last night and now a few sunburned tourists.

I was ready to be around people. My back ached and my fingers felt swollen as I settled on the same barstool at the same round cocktail table, next to Kaitlin.

“Is this going to be our table?” I asked.

“Routine is your thing, right?”

I traced the laminated top. My stool wobbled a little, but I liked the familiarity.

“I remember how you lined up your hairbrushes, combs, and clips on your dresser,” Kaitlin said.

“You kept rearranging them.”

She smiled. “It was kind of mean. If I’d thought about it, I would have left your stuff alone.”

The waitress we’d met last night brought us both a beer. “Burgers?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Just like yesterday.”

The waitress winked. “I like a customer who doesn’t hem and haw.”

I took a long sip of my beer. As the cool beverage slid through my body, the front door opened, and Nathan entered the bar. Like me, he was a creature of habit. One of us might need to find a new routine.

He waved to us, grabbed a beer at the bar, and moved straight toward the seat beside me. “I knew you’d be here.”

“I’m that predictable?” Seven years ago, we’d talked about having normal lives. Neither of us wanted one, but we both needed to manage the chaos. I’d created my own little bubble of certainty.

“You are. But so am I.”

That coaxed a smile. His daily routine had been as quirky as mine.

“Tula had an interesting find,” Kaitlin said. “Her boss gave her a partial manuscript about the Oceanus. She’s cleaning out a house this summer, and the guy who once owned it might be the author.”

“Really?” Nathan shifted his attention to me.

I could’ve reached across the table and strangled Kaitlin, but that wouldn’t have ended well for any of us. I wasn’t ready to go public with a story that felt so connected to me. “All true.”

Kaitlin kindly updated Nathan on what we knew about Dr. Atticus Brooks.

“The name Atticus Brooks is familiar.” He leaned forward a fraction, and I caught the scents of sunshine, seawater, and sweat. “When I was diving with your mother, I remember him. He was the oldest guy I’d ever met. He was often waiting by the dive boat each time we pulled into the dock. He always had questions for your mother and me about the dive.”

I’d been in school most diving days. And neither Mom nor Nathan had mentioned Dr. Brooks’s visits.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“Didn’t think about it,” he said.

“What was he like?”

“Much older, but always pulled together and very sharp. He knew more about the Oceanus than either of us,” Nathan said. “He and your mom had coffee several times.”

“He was on the wreck when it sank,” I said.

“Seriously? He never mentioned it. But he had a way of deflecting the conversation away from himself and back to us.”

The waitress brought three burger plates. I didn’t have to look to know Nathan’s burger had extra onions and double fries.

“You going to share this manuscript with me?” Nathan’s voice dropped a notch, as if we were now co-conspirators. But when it came to the Oceanus, I was territorial. The wreck had claimed nineteen people in 1942 and my mother in 2019. “There’s not much to it. The rest of the manuscript might not exist.”

“But even having a partial is exciting,” Nathan said.

“It’s just random insights into a few of the passengers.”

He pretended to pout. “Tula. You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Maybe.”

He pointed a french fry at me. “I’ll trade. I’ll share the Oceanus footage if you show me your pages.”

“You were going to do that anyway,” I said.

He shrugged. “I can also guide you down there, if that’s what you want. Still going tomorrow.”

My stomach clenched. “I’m not diving.”

He shook his head as if I’d spouted nonsense. “When you build up your nerve, and you will, I’ll take you. You’ll be too curious to resist. In the meantime, you can let me read those pages.”

I imagined my mother in the murky waters, skimming her gloved hand along the barnacle-covered hull. “Not interested in diving.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You wouldn’t have come back to the Outer Banks if you weren’t curious.”

“I’m curious about anything to do with my mom. Beyond that, I don’t care.”

I couldn’t tell if I saw annoyance, hurt, or curiosity.

“But she was really into this shipwreck. And forever linked to it. Don’t you want to know why she made the choices she did that day?”

“A dive won’t tell me that.”

“You never know.”

I bit into my burger, savoring the feeling of energy and the flavors hitting my body. After seven years of vending machine foods, I was so glad for the change. My therapist had told me the candy and chips were papering over sadness and boredom. Duh.