Spring Break Secret by Holly Rayner
Tom
Tom and Louisa spent the night in Jackson’s well-stocked guest wing, staying up late drinking wine and hearing tall tales of treasure hunting. Louisa seemed to get along very well with Jackson, which pleased Tom—not everyone could hang with his more intense business school friends.
After Jackson treated them to a delicious breakfast cooked up in his sun-filled kitchen, and told Louisa again to hang on to her precious pirate coin, they bid each other adieu and Tom and Louisa returned to the Sunray Venus to head out to their next adventure.
“Where are we going today?” Louisa asked as they got underway, the sails flapping with a stiff ocean wind.
“Should I tell you, or do you want another surprise?”
“Hmm.” Louisa pretended to be mulling the question over very seriously. “Another surprise, then, if you please.”
“Absolutely. In that case,” Tom said, “it’ll be an hour or so before we get to our surprise destination. Do you want to try out some sailing?”
“Sure!” Louisa hopped up from the hammock and joined Tom over by the boom of the boat.
Tom smiled, happy to share his expertise with Louisa. Some women, when he took them out sailing, were happy to just tan on the deck while he did all the work, but Louisa was inquisitive and eager to learn. He liked that about her.
“All right, so,” Tom explained, “this is the boom. It comes out from the mast, here, and moving it around is what lets us adjust the sail. Try it.”
Placing his hands on hers, Tom let Louisa guide the boom back and forth, seeing how quickly it tilted the sail.
“Whoah,” Louisa said, stumbling and falling against Tom as the wind caught the sail too hard and wobbled the boat.
“I’ve got you.” Tom held Louisa up, righting the boat with steady hands on the boom. “It’s pretty easy to throw things off if you adjust this too quickly, but once you learn how the sail likes to move, you can make it nice and smooth, like this.”
Tom demonstrated as Louisa watched, effortlessly tilting the sail into the wind and making it billow out, then turning it back and bringing the boat to a standstill.
Louisa picked it up pretty quickly, and once Tom showed her how to keep the sail windward so the boat could move through the water, she became an excellent first mate.
“All right, we’re getting close,” Tom said, pointing to an island out in the distance. “Why don’t you grab your binoculars and tell me what you see.”
Louisa zipped below deck to find her binoculars and emerged, peering through them and adjusting the focus. “It’s just a little island,” she said, swinging them back and forth. “What—oh! Oh!”
“See them?” Tom asked, steering the boat closer and closer.
“Yes. Flamingoes! Tons of them!”
“This island doesn’t have an official name,” Tom explained, “but those of us who know about it just call it Flamingo Cove, even though it isn’t really a cove.”
“Native flamingoes have gotten really rare in this area,” Louisa said, still looking through the binoculars as they approached. “I’ve never seen this many at once, ever!”
“They like this island because they can’t be bothered by humans, since it’s so remote and you need a boat like this one to get out there. Someone told me about it years ago, but people try to keep it a closely guarded secret so the flamingoes are mostly left alone.”
Tom knew just how to take the boat in on the sandy shores without disturbing the birds, and soon he was taking Louisa’s hand and helping her step off the boat. Mere yards away, a massive flock of bright pink birds was standing around, chattering at each other, flapping their wings in the sun, and dipping their beaks down into the water to feed.
“They’re beautiful,” Louisa said. “But we should stay here and just watch them without getting too close.”
“Of course. That’s why I parked the boat on this spot. They don’t like this part of the beach for some reason.”
“It’s probably too hot for them,” Louisa pointed out. “See how there’s no shade over here? They’re all nearer to the trees so they can regulate their temperature by going in and out of the sun.”
“Huh.” Tom hadn’t ever noticed the reason for it. He just knew from his friend that this was the place to pull one’s boat in without sending all the flamingoes scattering. “Smart birds.”
Before leaving Jackson’s, Tom had packed everything he needed to grill up lunch on the boat, and he fired up the small deck-side grill while Louisa sprawled on a blanket in the sand, watching the birds. Tom joined her, carrying two plates of grilled fish and a medley of vegetables Jackson had given him from the gardeners who used his compost.
“Apparently, this food was all grown in the dirt Jackson makes out of the old shipwrecks,” Tom said, sitting down on the blanket beside Louisa and handing her a plate.
“Even the fish?” Louisa joked, taking a bite of the grilled pepper.
“Well, they don’t teach us a lot of biology in business school, but I don’t think fish grow in dirt. All the vegetables, though, for sure.”
“Mmm,” Louisa said. “Pirate peppers. I wonder if they’re lucky too?”
“I’m sure they must be. Jackson would never give me unlucky vegetables.”
“He’s a real friend.” Louisa laughed. “Speaking of friends, see those two flamingoes right there? They’re preening each other. It’s a social activity that keeps their feathers clean and free of pests, but those two have been at it for way longer than any other pair. I think they’re just enjoying each other’s company.”
Tom knew how those birds must have felt, just wanting to be close to each other, to bask in one another’s presence. He put his arm around Louisa, kissing her temple as she sat beside him.
“Those ones, on the other hand,” Louisa continued, pointing to another group of birds, “are fighting. I think they’re juveniles, because they’re a bit lighter in color than the rest of them, and they haven’t quite learned their manners yet. See how they’re pushing each other back and forth with their necks?”
“Looks like me and Nick, back when we used to play-wrestle,” Tom observed.
“Exactly. Flamingoes are filter feeders, so they want to stick their beaks in the water and catch whatever they can. But if one is too close to another one, they’ll slurp up all the good food. These guys are just bothering each other, taking up space and pushing their buddies around.”
“Teenagers are gonna be obnoxious, no matter what the species,” Tom observed.
“Yeah.” Louisa rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what I’ll do when Rei gets older.”
“You’ll do great,” Tom said. “You’ve been an amazing mom to her so far. I’m sure you two can get through anything together.” Hopefully, Tom thought, with him by their side—but he didn’t want to be presumptuous.
“I hope you’re right.” Louisa sighed, leaning her head against Tom’s shoulder.
“Look, see, now those teenage birds have given each other some space. They’re fine.”
“They sure have. Good for them. They’ll learn quick—you have to, when you live in close quarters like a big flock.”
“Do they ever goof around?” Tom asked. “Do flamingoes play together?”
“Yes, if they’re not preening each other, they might share food, or the babies will chase each other around.”
“That’s so cool.” Tom watched the birds, their long spindly legs picking their way over the wet sand on wide webbed feet. They seemed so elegant, with their tall necks, but at the same time completely silly, hot pink creatures with big black beaks squabbling and squawking on the beach.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” Louisa said. “I don’t usually get a chance to study birds—most of my research focuses on sea life that lives in the water, and it’s hard to find wild flamingoes around La Vega.”
“Anytime,” Tom said, and he meant it. If he had to buy his own boat—maybe Vinny would sell him the Sunray Venus—he’d do whatever it took to give Louisa the life she deserved. And maybe someday they could take Rei here and watch the birds with her, laughing at their antics together.