The Sky Beneath Her(50)

When I left the shop, I had enough money for a large ice cream, which I enjoyed licking as I walked along the shops. Finally, I reached the café in the mall’s interior, where I found a collection of tables and chairs nestled close.

At the center table sat Mom, talking to two men I didn’t recognize. One of them got up and left.

The man still at the table had thick gray hair and stooped shoulders. When she shifted her attention to him, she bowed her head close, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear what they were saying. Mom’s face was tight with tension and worry. I’d seen her mad and sometimes happy, but rarely upset like this.

I was ready to call out when my ice cream tilted, and I was forced to lick it quickly before it fell to the ground.

By the time I’d triaged the cone and cleaned my hands, the second man was gone, and Mom was sitting alone. A frown creased her face, making her look twenty years older. She looked lost, angry, and sad all at once.

As if she felt my stare, she looked up and grinned. I came toward her. “Everything okay?”

She sat up straighter. “Never better. You going to give me a lick of that ice cream?”

I’d suddenly lost my appetite for the vanilla-and-chocolate swirl and handed it over. “All yours.”

“Great.”

I searched the boardwalks and exits. “Who were those guys?”

She took several bites before she pressed her fingers to her temple. “Ice cream headache.”

“Who were they?”

She finally said, “Locals. No one I’ll see again.”

I sat across from her. “You look upset.”

She laughed. “My blood sugar was low. Now I’m all fixed, courtesy of Dr. Vanilla Chocolate Swirl.”

I didn’t buy her explanation. She was always honest with me. If we were low on money, a client had bailed, or her equipment broke, she told me. When I had my first period, she was matter of fact and fed me necessary details. When I had my first crush, she had a frank conversation about men and babies. “You don’t have low blood sugar.”

“Well, I did today. Pretty sure I skipped breakfast.”

“Was he asking about the Oceanus?”

“We talked about it. Everyone is a little curious.” She nodded toward the necklace but didn’t really study it. “That your newest purchase?”

I touched the sea glass, which now felt warm. “Yeah. Kind of different.”

“It suits you. Whenever you see it, you’ll remember it was my birthday gift to you.”

“Mom, you’re scaring me.”

She laughed. “How?”

“You never do sentimental. Are you dying or something?”

Mom cocked her brow. “That’s a bit dramatic, Tula.”

“You’re just acting weird.”

“When am I not a little odd?” She licked the ice cream down to the cone and took a bite.

The moment faded as my fingers skimmed coin and glass. The necklace had survived seven years, and I wore it because Mom had given them both to me.

Now I realized one of the men was Dr. Brooks. I wondered why she had wanted to keep me busy while she’d met with Dr. Brooks and the other man. Had their conversation been about the Oceanus, or was it something more important? I’d watched her walk away from dozens of wrecks because they were too dangerous or the weather wasn’t right. But she’d refused to leave the wreck that last day we’d dived.

“Why did you care so much about the Oceanus, Mom?”

It was almost midnight. I stacked the papers and put them back in the folder. “If the rest of this book is here, help me find it.” I shut off the light.





Chapter Eighteen


Gertrude





Wednesday, April 22, 1942, 6:30 a.m.


Two days until the Oceanus is torpedoed


Survival. Dr. Brooks was right. People did impossible things to live. I’d taken incredible risks. And I would be wise to remember them.

I’d spent the night dreaming about Vienna and the woman who’d visited the bookshop with her rare finds. I wasn’t sure why she reminded me of the other passenger I’d glimpsed, but she did. There was no way the Viennese woman could have found me, right?

The hallways were quiet, as was the cabin next to mine. I slipped on my coat and opened my door. There was no one in sight. The ship was asleep.

I climbed the stairs to the dining room and found the steward already at his post. The dining room doors were closed, but I could hear the clink of glasses as the crew set up the breakfast service.

I moved toward the steward, who looked at me with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Ma’am, we don’t open for another hour, but I can get you toast if you’re hungry.”

“That’s not necessary. I had a question for you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I met a woman Monday evening,” I lied. “A lovely brunette with a tall man who didn’t appear well. She told me her name, but I’ve already forgotten it. We’re to be seated together at breakfast, and I would feel the fool if I didn’t know it.”

The steward didn’t have to think long. “The man is Mr. Weller, and his companion is Miss Sigrid Stein.”

Sigrid. I didn’t recognize the name, but I was also using a false name. “You have an excellent memory for names.”