What are you doing? She opened her eyes wide and emitted a tiny gasp. Are you insane?
“I mean…what do we do now…to get my paperwork in order?” Her voice sounded a little crazed, overloud in the tiny bathroom.
His eyebrows went up. “Your paperwork?”
“Yeah. For the sea urchin license?” She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans and sauntered a few steps back. “Um, do I need an I.D.?”
Of course you need an I.D. card, you dope.
He looked at her strangely. “Do you have your passport with you?”
“Yes. And a California ID.”
“Okay, that should be fine. We’ll go down to the Fish and Wildlife licensing office and take care of everything this morning. Sound good?”
“Sounds great!” Not knowing what else to do, she gave him a double thumbs-up. Then, a little horrified, she left his bathroom and bolted down the stairs.
****
Eve was grateful for the absence of further awkwardness as they drove to the licensing office in Sam’s old pickup truck. When they visited his accountant’s office, Sam prepared some other paperwork and explained she’d be paid once a week, starting today. A warm, happy feeling settled in her chest when she looked down at the check in her hands. It was more than she’d ever been paid for a day’s work.
Later that afternoon, Eve rode her bike into town to run some errands. When she returned, she sat on a bench
by the marina and perused the rental listings in the local newspaper. Most of the properties were beach cottages and vacation homes far out of her price range.
Then she spotted a short ad for half a guesthouse. The rent was low. She circled the listing and stuck the newspaper in her backpack.
While Sam was out working on his boat, Eve went upstairs to surprise him with dinner.
By the time Sam came upstairs, the dishes were ready and the kitchen was clean. The apartment smelled of home-cooked food, and Eve heard his stomach growl as he came through the front door.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Just thought I’d make you something. To say thank you,” said Eve. She untied her hair and dried her hands on a dishtowel.
Eve laid out eight different dishes on the table. Though the food was simple, everything was perfectly cooked. The balance of flavors astounded Sam: salty miso soup, sweet roasted fish, hot rice, sour pickles. When she poured him a cup of hot green tea at the end of dinner, he was full but energized. It was one of the best meals he’d ever had.
“Did your grandfather teach you how to cook?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
“Both my grandparents did. I come from a family of cooks.”
“And you lived with your grandparents in Japan?” She nodded. “I moved after my parents got divorced. My father sent me there when I was thirteen. I didn’t know the language and I had to go to a Japanese high school. I could barely communicate with my grandparents. The students didn’t know what to make of me.”
“Jesus,” Sam said. He looked at her carefully in the lamplight. “Sounds like quite a culture shock.”
“Shock is an appropriate word,” she said, nodding. “But I learned. And I was fine.”
Sam took another soothing sip of tea. “Was your mom Japanese?”
“No. American mutt. German and Irish. Even a little Cherokee.”
“Where is she now?”
“Colorado, somewhere.”
“What about your boyfriend? Do you ever cook for him?” Sam asked.
“My what? My boyfriend? Oh, yeah. Sometimes,” she said absently. “He’s a pretty good cook himself, so I don’t get much of a chance.”
They sat without speaking for a little while, listening to the soft sigh and fold of the waves not far away.
“Sam?”
He sat up straighter. “What’s up?”
“I know you’re taking a chance by hiring me as your tender.” She wrapped her hands around the warm mug of tea. “I just want to say thank you.”
Sam looked carefully at her and nodded. “No problem.”
That night, before he turned in, Sam went downstairs to check on Eve.
She was curled up in a ball on the leather sofa. She’d kicked her covers off once more and was murmuring again in her sleep.
Sam sat cross-legged on the floor next to her and looked at her in the lamplight. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was whimpering and whispering
something in Japanese. Quietly, he took her hand. It was so small compared with his, but no less scarred and battered by work.
By the time her murmuring stopped, Sam could barely keep his eyes open. He placed her hand on her pillow, pulled the blankets under her chin, and stumbled up to his own bed.
****
The girl worked like a beast. After three more dives, Sam could’ve sworn he and Eve had been fishing side-by-side forever.
Kyle had been Sam’s tender for almost three years. Two years ago, Kyle had entered the lottery for one of the three hundred valuable urchin licenses issued by the state of California. He was lucky enough to get one, and instead of tending, Kyle was now Sam’s co-diver. They went down in the water together, doubling the catch. But Kyle didn’t have Eve’s focus or deliberation. She had such good powers of anticipation that sometimes she seemed able to read Sam’s mind.
This morning, she was already waiting for him on deck. “Where to today, boss?” she asked.
Sam put his thermos in the wheelhouse. “I’m thinking San Miguel.”
“Sounds good.”
They pulled out of the marina. The Bravado was a twenty-four-foot Radon dive boat that had been a working girl her entire life. She was no speed demon, but she was reliable.
Despite the winter weather, they made good time and by seven forty-five were dropping anchor at Harris Point on the north coast of San Miguel Island. The wind was blowing steady out of the northwest—nothing new for San Miguel—but the day was already looking clearer than Sam had expected.
Sam got his wetsuit and weight belt on. He double- checked his compressor while Eve inspected the dive hose. Eve threw some orange floats and a mesh urchin bag off the deck as Sam got his urchin rake on and jumped into the water.
“Everything okay?” She threw Sam the dive hose that would be his lifeline underwater. Sam grabbed it and attached it to his regulator.
“Everything’s good,” he said and descended.
Ten, twenty, thirty feet. Sam cut through a stew of ocean life; the kelp forest drew all kinds of fish and critters. He passed sea bass and red and black California sheepshead, swimming back and forth, throwing shadows on the sand. In the distance, a shy harbor seal swam about, studying him with big, curious eyes.
Sam reached the bottom at forty feet. He grabbed the dive bag and untangled the netting. Quickly, he found a big cluster of mature urchin hiding in a rocky crevice and set to work.
Urchin diving was no picnic. The conditions were unpredictable. Fuel for each trip was becoming ungodly expensive, and the processing plants had set the price for urchin years ago. Dive equipment was not always reliable. Shark encounters were not uncommon; in fact, someone had died of a shark attack right here at Harris Point in the 1990s. Divers had nicknamed the place Shark Park.
In spite of everything, Sam loved this work. No boss. No office politics. Sometimes the sea gods were kind. Sometimes he found a motherlode, tons of urchin on a single dive. Sometimes sea lions and seals came to keep him company, swimming right up to his face for a look. And once, he’d seen a migrating whale. It was like looking at the side of a barn from ten feet away.
When his bag was full, Sam inflated the floater that carried it to the surface and slowly began his own ascent.
Eve attached the 300-pound bag to the hydraulic davit and hauled it on deck.
“Ready for another one, boss?” Eve called, holding an empty bag. The sun was out. She had taken off her sweatshirt and put on bright yellow waders. With the wide red suspenders hanging on her slim shoulders, she looked ridiculously adorable. And adorably sexy.
Sam took the respirator out of his mouth and suppressed the goofy grin on his face.
“Hit me,” he said.