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“Not yet, but the day is young,” she said, that twinkle still in her eyes. She came to her husband and kissed him soundly. “I have your lunch in the kitchen. You’d better hurry, Chrissy is eyeing it like a hungry hairy monster.”
“I’m not a hairy monster,” she called from the kitchen. “But this sandwich looks really good.”
“Come sit with me, son, before your sister devours my meal.”
He got his own sandwich as his mom lugged his duffel past the door, prompting him to jump up and take it from her to the laundry room. After a short argument between them that he could do his own laundry just like usual, she shooed him away. She was humming when he left.
That night, there was a large meal. His mom was a great cook and his brother and girlfriend, Tamara came over. His brother’s greeting was just like his dad’s. Logan looked fit and tanned. He was a firefighter for the city, making Easy proud of him. It was funny. They never batted an eyelash when he wanted to go into one of the most dangerous professions there was, yet there was an uproar over Easy’s choice.
Maybe it was because his parents thought that his decision to drop all his future plans was because of the accident. They had no idea how personal his decision had been and what a relief it was to get out of the small town and away from all the attention.
Lost in his thoughts, his brother’s words didn’t at first penetrate. “Matty? I said Tamara and I are getting married.”
“What? That’s great. Congratulations!” If there was one thing he was envious of when it came to Logan, it was that he had made a really good choice with Tamara.
“Getting her to say yes was the hardest part,” he teased, those words hitting home.
Tamara smiled at him and slipped her arm around Logan’s shoulders. “It wasn’t hard at all.”
Chrissy gagged and rolled her eyes. “The sugar in here is giving me diabetes.”
Everyone laughed, but Easy couldn’t shake his mood. When he was finally lying in bed, the open window allowing the cool, soft ocean breeze to waft over him, he remembered the kill house. He’d been fine one minute and the next, there it was again, Jeri’s death, BUD/S, and Diepolder Cave.
He would have said the incident had no effect on him at all, except for the nightmares, and reliving those three incidents over and over again. This couldn’t be PTSD. He didn’t have other symptoms, just the experiences replaying like a loop in his head.
What was it about them that was significant?
The next morning, he got up at his usual time and did PT. When he got back to the house, his dad was sipping his morning coffee on the patio. Easy grabbed a cup and went outside.
His dad was watching the news on his laptop. He closed it when Easy came out. “Morning,” he said.
“Morning.” Easy sat down at the table and looked out over the just as well-kept backyard, the pool sparkling in the sun.
“How about we go on a dive over to Devil’s Den.”
“Don’t you have patients?” His dad was a chiropractor going on twenty-plus years. His sister Chrissy was studying to follow in their dad’s footsteps. It’s what Easy had been slated for, but he knew he wasn’t cut out for a nine-to-five job fixing people’s backs.
“No, my partner is taking over Saturdays.”
Easy sighed. He wanted to say yes, but his doctor told him to keep clear of diving for a couple more weeks so his lungs could heal more fully. He was so tempted because that particular spot had year-round seventy-two-degree water, dynamic rock formations, and thirty-three million old fossil beds. But it was a sixty-foot-deep prehistoric underground spring.
“I can’t, Dad.”
His father frowned, stopping his coffee cup inches from his lips. “You said can’t. Why?”
Easy looked away, watching the sunlight dance on the crystal blue water. “If I tell you, I don’t want you to freak out about it or tell Mom.”
His dad set the mug down and leaned forward. “This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment trip home. Was it?”
Easy looked back at his dad, concern in his eyes. “No. I’m on medical leave.” He told his father the story of what had happened on theSurvivor.
“Jesus, son.” He exhaled heavily, a deep disquiet darkening his eyes. “I know you go to dangerous places and do dangerous things.” His tone was gentle. “No one wants their son to do such things. But I’m damn proud that you do. Saving those people at great risk to yourself. Matty…”
His dad’s gruff voice got to him, and he cleared his throat, something loosening up in him. “Dad, there’s more. When I was drowning, I experienced something strange.”
His father winced when Easy saiddrowning, although, as a diver, he was aware it was one of the risks, especially in cave diving.
“What?”
