Kate leaned over the rail with her glasses pushed up on her head, pointing at something in the water.
“That’s a limpkin,” she said, indicating a brown bird picking through the shallows. “They eat apple snails almost exclusively. Their bill is actually curved to the right to match the spiral of the snail’s shell.”
“You’re narrating better than the tour guide,” he said.
“Please. He called that a heron,” she whispered. “It’s not a heron. Herons don’t have that bill structure.”
“And here I thought you were a chemist, not a zoologist.
She leaned back in her seat with a satisfied smile. “I took marine biology and ornithology in undergrad and loved them both. Fish and birds are the coolest.”
He resisted the urge to quote Genesis—Let the water teem with living creatures, and let the birds fly above the earth…
Not today. It was too perfect and Dr. Wylie would likely not appreciate that version of Creation. The realization gave him that low punch of…something. Disappointment? Sadness? Fear? He didn’t know, but he’d become expert at ignoring it.
No Bible lectures today—not on her dream date.
He pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders as the boat rounded a bend and the river opened into a wide, sun-dappled stretch. Spanish moss hung from every branch like gray lace, and the water was so clear he could see the sandy bottom six feet down, fish drifting in lazy schools through shafts of green-gold light.
How, he wondered fleetingly, could anyone look at nature and not see God?
Kate leaned into him, taking his mind back to the pure contentment of the moment. They’d been together for months now, but the simplicity of her body against his—relaxed, trusting, warm—never stopped feeling like a gift.
She was radiantly, unguardedly happy today, making her even more beautiful. Her dark auburn hair was loose, falling over her shoulders, her skin flushed from the sun. She kept turning to him with that smile—the one that reached her eyes and made them dance.
Goodness, he adored this woman. This brilliant, stubborn, beautiful woman who had planned every minute of this day because she wisely listened to the advice of two women she loved and respected.
Vivien and Tessa had been right, of course. They needed this interlude to remember how good and real their love really was.
After the boat docked, they climbed out, thanking their tour guide with a generous tip and genuine praise. Then they walked along the path toward the swimming area, passing the diving platform that loomed over twenty feet, jutting over the spring.
Kids were all over the top, laughing, shouting, and, oh, yes, jumping with primal screams at the top of their lungs.
Kate stopped and watched them. “Takes you back, doesn’t it?”
“To the day you fell.”
“I didn’t fall.” She jabbed his ribs. “I executed an uncontrolled lateral dismount that you happily don’t remember. And I freaked out under the water.”
“Couldn’t find the limpkins?”
“Certain there was a gator,” she replied. “But then, my hero rescued me.”
He put an arm around her. “It was a pleasure. Come on, let’s get in the water. They promised no gators.” He gave a squeeze. “Only a hero.”
They found a spot on the grassy bank near the spring, spread out the towels they’d brought, and eased into the water. Sixty-eight degrees hit like a shock that softened into something incredible—clean, clear, cold enough to wake up every nerve and make Eli feel completely alive.
Kate submerged and came up gasping, blinking water out of her eyes.
“Now I wish I wore contacts and goggles,” she said. “The visibility is insane. I can see the bottom. Eli, I can see the vent. The geological formation down there is?—”
“Beautiful?” He swam closer to her.
“Extraordinary. The calcium carbonate deposits alone?—”
He kissed her, cold water and warm mouth. “The geological formation up here is extraordinary, too.”
She laughed and kissed him back. “I’ll stop being a scientist.”
