The Sky Beneath Her(59)

“I thought nineteen souls died there,” Tony said.

“We lost a diver to the wreck about seven years ago.”

Tony tossed side-eye my way, but he didn’t say anything.

Nathan’s answer satisfied some, but others looked a little frustrated. I knew how the lure of exploration nullified potential dangers and laws against possible desecration. I could tell the idea of danger excited a few.

Tony helped Nathan carry the cooler to his truck. I waited by the boat for Nathan’s return.

Nathan had zipped his wet suit down to his waist, revealing dark hair covering a firm chest. The hair slicked off his face drew attention to his blue eyes and high cheekbones. He could never be described as pretty, but he was striking.

“You did a good job today,” he said.

“I didn’t do much.”

“You helped Tony on the boat and kept him calm. I’d have suspended the dive if not for you.”

“Did you know he was going to panic?”

“He was doing fine, and then suddenly he froze. I was following the others down when I realized he wasn’t with us.”

I dropped my voice. “He thinks he saw something.”

“Like?”

I shrugged. “A white misty cloud. He thinks a kind of spirit.”

He didn’t laugh. “I didn’t see anything, but I’ve heard my share of tales about haunted ships. Superstition and the ocean go hand in hand. You’re an experienced diver. What do you think he might have seen?”

“I don’t know. I’ve don’t have the best record when it comes to this wreck.”

“You were great today.”

“I wasn’t in the water.”

“Did you see yourself this close to water a month ago?” he asked.

“I did not.”

“One step at a time, Tula.” He hefted tanks in each hand.

He loaded his tanks in the truck bed. His back to me, he grabbed a towel and dried off before unzipping the suit the rest of the way and peeling it off. I marveled at the expanse of his tanned, muscled back. I was kind of sorry he’d been such a gentleman when we’d dived together, but looking back, I was glad he’d kept his distance.

I slid into the truck, shifting against the heat of the front seat. Nathan was seconds behind me, and he turned on the engine and the AC. After it blew out hot air for a few seconds, cool air drifted over my heated skin.

“I’m going to take out another group next week. Want to come?”

“I’ll have to check with Kaitlin and see when I’m scheduled for work. If I’m free, I’ll go.” I wasn’t sure why I wanted to go back to the site. I had nothing to prove to anyone. “I’ll text.”

He grinned and nodded. “I was expecting a fast no.”

“It could end up a no. But like you said, small steps.”

“You going to keep me up to date on that manuscript?”

“I will. There are two women from Austria that are interesting. I think Dr. Brooks was a spy.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s a theory floated by a local. The theory makes sense. It was a world war. Dr. Brooks was visiting all kinds of places in Africa and Europe. He had to be doing more than collecting books.”

Nathan shifted into reverse. The cooling AC skimmed over my skin, sending a chill into my bones. “I did see something down there.”

“What?”

He drew in a breath. “There’s another wreck close to the Oceanus. It’s a small boat, and much older.”

“I never saw it the first time.”

“Last year’s storms likely uncovered it.”

“What kind of wreck?” I asked.

“A schooner, maybe. A wooden hull. It’s falling apart.”

I combed my memory. I’d had time to search the area when I was down there. “I never saw it.”

“Like I said, the storms have been intense since then. Sands down there shift all the time. And there are a lot of wrecks off the Outer Banks.”

“These waters are a mini Bermuda Triangle,” I quipped. “Did you see a name?”

“No name.”

The beaches here had so many secrets. And I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to dig too deep.





Chapter Twenty-One


Gertrude





Thursday, April 23, 1942, 6:30 a.m.


One day before the Oceanus is torpedoed


The couple next door had been up most of the night. The man, William, spoke in a low, growling voice filled with menace. The woman, Sigrid, spoke in soft, soothing, and sometimes desperate tones. She was trying to calm the beast who likely was ready to take my child.

Glass shattered, and I imagined the man hurling a crystal glass toward the cabin wall. Next came the violent sounds of rough grunts, met by her silence. I didn’t need to see to know what was happening.

Finally, the room fell still, and I supposed he’d fallen asleep. I pictured her in his arms, staring stiff and wide eyed at the ceiling or looking toward the curtains covering the porthole and imagining the ocean’s dark waters. How many times had a similar story played out with Alfred and me?

Rising, I checked my watch. The sun would soon rise, but there was no one on deck. The ship would be quiet.