Free Born Ready by Lori Wilde Page B

Dry Tortugas. You up for it?”
    She should say no. She was already behind on her work. Usually, she would say no. There was no real reason to say yes. None at all.
    Except she wanted to go.
    She shook her head. “Really, I can’t.”
    He looked sheepish. “No problem. I figured it was worth a shot.” He picked up her book and papers, passsed them to her, then turned to go.
    Jackie unlocked her door. Heard his footsteps on the stairs. “Wait.”
    He stopped, turned back.
    “I do love the Dry Tortugas.”
    The spontaneous grin that took his face hostage, tugged at her. “No kidding.”
    “I’d love to go with you,” she said, knowing it was probably a stupid thing to say.
    “Great.” His gaze held her. “Pick up you tomorrow at dawn.”
    With that, he was gone, taking the steps two at a time, and as he disappeared down the beach, Jackie heard him whistling “Beyond the Sea.”

6
When you’re being swept overboard, it’s a good idea to have a Coast Guard at the helm.
—Jacqueline Birchard, marine biologist
     
     
    DURING HER TWENTY-SIX years on earth, Jackie had dived countless times, but each time she went under the surface, it was different. And each time she went down into the deep blue, her heart filled with joy. This time, with Scott, there was an entire new element. An aspect she had not expected, nor prepared for.
    For one thing, he was as comfortable on the water as she was. During the two-and-a-half-hour trip to the Dry Tortugas in his speedboat, they hadn’t spoken a word, both of them enjoying the sun and the bounce of the boat on the waves. She felt like a schoolgirl playing hooky, except she’d never played hooky in her life.
    The Dry Tortugas were a group of small islands, composed of sand and coral reef, seventy miles south of Key West. They were known for their thriving marine life and old Fort Jefferson, which was started in the mid-nineteenth century and never completed. The islands were rife with romantic tales of pirates, sunken ships and hidden treasures. There was a natural research area in the Tortugas and it was a place her father visited often.
    When they reached the diving spot, neither of them spoke. They just started working like a team, as if they’d been doing it for years. Jackie dropped anchor, while Scott set their diving tanks upright on the boat.
    With practiced movements, they checked the O-ring channel on their tank valves and then moved on to get their vest straps wet, leaning over starboard at the same moment. Once they’d wetted them, they loosened the straps on their buoyancy control devices, called BCDs for short, slipped them over the air tanks and lowered them until the BCD was fully snug and locked with the tank strap.
    They attached the regulators, then positioned and tightened the yokes over the tank valves. They purged the valves, listening for the sound of air. They checked the gauges and made sure there were no leaks. Precision counted in diving. Skip a step, allow diligence to slip and you could die down there. When they realized they were in perfect synchronicity, their eyes met and they smiled at each other.
    Quickly, feeling oddly embarrassed, Jackie glanced away. If she hadn’t been so excited about diving, she might have run away. Instead, she sat on the edge of the boat and just dropped backward into the ocean, letting the waves envelop her in a welcoming hug.
    Scott followed right behind her.
    In tandem, they swam toward the coral reef.
    Her heart beat faster as she breathed in from her tank. The familiar gurgle of bubbles was music to her ears.
    Yes. Home. She was home.
    Maybe she was something of a mermaid at that. Was it odd to feel more joyous in the water than she ever did on land?
    Underneath the surface there lay a beautiful garden nondivers never saw for themselves. Stony coral formed the basis of the living architecture. The reefs were a unique ecosystem made up primarily of calcium deposited by marine life such as jellies and