Twelve hundred miles south of Atlanta, it was another beautiful day on the white, sandy shores of Seven Mile Beach. The perfect blend of tall Island pines and majestic palms provided the shading and hammock support.
With everyone gone except Gray and Andi, Jeff thought he would finally have some quality time with Melissa. He really wanted to talk with her, not that they hadn’t; but he wanted to really talk with her, to let her know that he missed being her best friend. He missed other things too, not just the sex and romance they once experienced, but also the fun times. He tried not to get lost in the sex and romance aspect but found it difficult.
Gray and Andi, in the privacy of their beachfront suite, thought the same as Jeff; that he and Melissa needed some real “alone” time. Melissa had confided in Andi, and then Gray, telling them she had mixed feelings about Jeff. She was afraid to just let go, especially since she still wasn’t certain that Robert wasn’t alive somewhere; but she and Jeff just had this special chemistry, not sexual as much as mental, a chemistry that had not been shared with Robert.
Gray finished his email to Terry Krouch, a good friend and also the founder and director of Autistics Need Sports Too, a non-profit group that was largely supported by the Duluth Civitan Club. The group had a small summer camp located on the banks of Berkeley Lake, just a mile south of Duluth.
“Terry,” the email began, “I have found the perfect jet ski for the kids. Now, before you ask; I know the rules about motor craft on Berkeley Lake; but these aren’t gas powered and no propellers. Andi and I rented two yesterday and are going to rent two in a few minutes and tour the island by water. And get this, they make no noise other than the water cutting the bow.
“As soon as we get back to Atlanta, we want to buy three of these and donate them for the kids, assuming we make it back. Your effort in helping autistic children feel as special as they really are, is awesome. Go to this web site and check this baby out, ecowatercraft.com. Goes 0-30 in three seconds, is big and stable and safe for the kids. Will be back soon, hopefully.” Gray looked out over the crystal-clear waters, hoping that a miracle would spare the world from the approaching cataclysm.
Jeff grabbed the remote to turn off the news when all the power went out. He remembered something about another solar storm headed Earth’s way. He picked up the phone to call the front desk. Also out. He grabbed his satellite phone and heard nothing but static. Satellites are probably being affected, he thought.
In places where the power had not been interrupted, the news went on to state that a major eruption of Soufriére Hills Volcano was imminent. The surrounding islands, the southern United States and the eastern, coastal areas of South America and Mexico should prepare for possible tsunami activity, though at this time, none is expected.”
Jeff left the suite and headed for his dive shop to meet Melissa. The tanks had been filled with compressed air the night before, so the power outage should not interrupt business. He spotted Melissa walking toward the shop, the placid, turquoise Caribbean forming the perfect background for a perfect angel, hammocks swinging in the gentle sea breeze. Jeff’s heart did what it always did when he saw her, it lost a couple of beats and turned a back flip. He hoped it wasn’t obvious.
Melissa’s beach cover-up didn’t cover up all that much, and Jeff found himself having desires that he hadn’t felt for years. He splashed himself in the face with cold water and could’ve sworn he saw a little steam.
“Are we ready?” She gave Jeff a good morning hug, handed him his latté with one raw sugar, winked and turned around. “How do you like my new beach outfit?”
Jeff found it hard to talk with his heart in his mouth and just murmured something, like a blubbering teenage boy on his first date. This day, though it might be one of his last on Earth, was starting off great.
Later in the afternoon Jeff and Melissa finished a shore dive off Seven Mile Beach, their second dive of the trip, and lugged their SCUBA gear to the nearest shady area, a couple of date palms just outside the Cayman Grand. Jeff tired easily and struggled with the gear.
Gray and Andi yelled at them from a few yards out to sea, telling them that they would be back in a while. Jeff and Melissa hadn’t even heard the silky-quiet, electric jet skis. They turned around and waved.
“Ya’ll be good now, you heah?” and they all laughed.
“Did you see them holding hands before they turned around?” Andi was hopeful that they might once again have their travelling companions back.
“You bet I did!” And they truly hoped Jeff and Melissa were as happy as they were, or soon would be.
“What a dive, at least for a shore dive! Hard to believe we saw all those rays just off shore. This has always been my most favorite dive spot, but I don’t recall ever seeing all those rays and small squid.”
Melissa agreed, still a little out of breath. SCUBA equipment was almost weightless in the water but heavy and cumbersome on shore, usually weighing about 60 pounds.
Jeff, when he wasn’t watching the stars, was an avid diver, a hobby retained from his days as a SEAL. Melissa enjoyed diving, but not to the same extent as Jeff and never had. She would prefer to shop. At the time she met Jeff, she didn’t even know what the acronym meant, and asked him.
“I used to watch Sea Hunt when I was a kid, but I never heard what SCUBA stands for?”
“It stands for Self Contained Underwater Buoyancy Apparatus. SCUBA sustains your life while underwater. The BC, or buoyancy compensator, allows you to maintain a specific depth, like a swim bladder in a fish. Keeps you from floating to the surface.”
“I have no idea what a swim bladder is, Jeff.”
“Swim bladders keep fish from floating to the surface or sinking to the bottom. It’s really an air filled bladder that the fish can vary. Your BC does the same thing. A stabilizer if you will.”
Jeff’s thoughts returned to the moment as they found their place on the beach, gear stored, and they collapsed into two of the three Honduran hammocks, supported by the sturdy pines.
The dive had been uneventful, but that was to be expected with a brief shore dive, except for all the rays. Stingray City was off the North Shore several miles away; and Jeff thought the rays seemed antsy, as well as numerous. That was troubling. When sea life was skittish, there was usually a reason.
“Is there room in there for me?” Jeff opened his eyes. Melissa climbed into the two person hammock and curled up against Jeff as best one could in a hammock; and she fell asleep wrapped securely in his arms.
Before falling asleep Jeff thought about God and how his only prayer in decades seemed to have been answered. Melissa kissed his hand and held it as her back lay against his skin, fitting together like two spoons in Momma’s silverware drawer.
As the mid-afternoon matured into late-afternoon, a thousand miles to the east Soufriére Hills exploded with a fury, a blast that would be heard throughout the Caribbean, once the sound waves traveled the distance at 750 miles per hour.
In just over an hour, the sound would awaken Melissa, a third of the island of Montserrat now resting in the clear Caribbean Sea.