<< Go Back

Rescued to Be Messy

By Dineen Miller

Order Now!

Zane
“Whoever said what you don’t know can’t hurt you was an idiot. Here, on the beach, you have to know everything. A life may depend upon it.” 
Spring training—my favorite time of the year. Why? Because every lifeguard here, whether new or seasoned, is driven by commitment. And for the next four weeks, the newbies are mine to train, examine, and decide if they’re cut out to be part of a program I’ve worked eight years to build, design, and fine-tune.
“Lifeguards, pick your trainees and break into teams. You know the drill.”
The sun has peaked and burned off the residual coolness of the morning, bringing in the humidity with a vengeance, and summer has yet to start. Four of my best lifeguards are on task today to help train the newbies and are as drenched in sweat as their trainees. Even I’m feeling the heat as sweat trickles down my back faster than my moisture-wicking shirt can keep up.
After watching the drills, I lower the clipboard that has the full list of trainees with my notes for the day’s performance and signal to Nick, my right-hand man and assistant, to take over. He gives me two thumbs up and his signature grin, which has more teeth than a shark.
With that, I launch up the steps of lifeguard tower number one (we have four total on Mango Key, all painted different colors to stand out—red, green, blue, and yellow) to jot down some ideas for a youth lifeguard program I’d hoped to get started this summer. I’ve worked on the plan for weeks, not to mention the years the seed of this idea spent growing in the back of my mind. 
But something’s still missing. I want this to be a strong program, like the one I designed for Mango Key Beach, and Mayor Stringer has given me free rein to develop it. And it’s not just about making the mayor of Sarabella happy. 
Theo used to be the head lifeguard of the program and took me under his wing when I joined at the tender age of twenty. Two years later, he shared his plans to enter the political arena with me as his replacement as head of the lifeguard program. Eight years later, we have one of the most recognized programs in the state of Florida and up the East Coast.
Speaking of which—or who—Theo Stringer’s name streams across the top of my phone. 
I tap the accept button. “Hey, Theo.”
“How’s the training going?”
“Good. They’re working hard.”
“I can see that.”
I step out onto the small outer deck of the tower in search of Theo. “Where are you?”
“At the pavilion. Can you join me for a few minutes? I’d come your way, but walking on the beach in a suit and dress shoes is really not doable.”
With a chuckle, I head down the steps and hit the sand. “Sure. On my way.” I signal to Nick that I’m heading up to the pavilion.
Mango Key Beach is composed of finely ground quartz, which makes the sand feel cool to the touch, no matter the time of day. And I never tire of the feel of that soft white sand between my toes. I’ve heard some tourists compare it to snow powder. I’ll take their word for it.
As I approach the pavilion, I notice Theo isn’t alone. A young man—more like a teenager—shifts from one foot to the other next to him. I shake hands with Theo as I reach them both. “Come to watch the new string of trainees?”
“Yeah, we wanted to check things out.” He gestures to the kid. “This is my nephew, Isaac. He’s my sister’s son. He wants to join the youth program.”
I shake hands with Isaac, who has a mop of tightly cropped dark brown curls and a smile I’m sure the girls at school take acute notice of. “Hi, Isaac. Why do you want to be a lifeguard?”
Theo grins at Isaac. “Zane always gets right to the point.”
Isaac shrugs. “I love being on the beach, and I like helping people.”
I purse my lips and nod. “Those are good reasons to start with. I love that you want to join the program, but I’m not sure we’ll have it up and running this summer.”
Theo’s expression turns hesitant. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about, Zane.”
I’ve known Theo long enough to know what his silent signals mean, and whatever he has to tell me must be a doozy.
I shift my focus to the boy and gesture back at the group on the beach. “Hey, Isaac, why don’t you go and watch the training? Tell Nick I sent you down, okay? He’s the one leading the exercises.”
Isaac nods and takes off, kicking up sand as he runs. 
After making sure he connects with Nick, I turn back to Theo. “What’s on your mind?”
Theo tucks his hands into his suit pants pockets, pushing the flaps of his jacket back, which must be sweltering at this point as the morning sun has launched higher above us. Sweat beads above his brow and his gray-sprinkled sideburns are glistening. “It’s about the youth program. I did some research and found a program I think you’ll like.”
“But I’ve been working on some designs and thoughts of my own.”
“I know, but you’re spread a little thin lately, especially after that hurricane last year. This should take a load off.”
As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. I have been spread a little thin lately. Hurricane Phillipe blew in with a vengeance last fall and did a lot of damage not only to the beach but also to the local businesses downtown, which is just a mile or so from the shore. My team and I not only worked hard assisting in the restoration of the beach but also did a lot of volunteer work to help the business community recover. 
Sarabella is a small town with a big tourist industry. We’ve learned to look out for each other over the years. Because of that, we recovered faster than any other city on the coast that Phillipe ravaged. I’m proud of our community, and I don’t hesitate to help when and wherever needed. 
And I feel the same way about creating a youth lifeguard program that will make a difference here in Sarabella. This has been a part of my vision for the lifeguard program almost since the day I first joined almost ten years ago. 
However, I trust Theo, and, if he’s vetted this program and approves, then the least I can do is check it out. “Sure, I’ll look it over.”
Theo holds one hand out, something he does when he shifts into reassurance mode. “I’m certain what you have will fit well with this program. You and the designer have a lot in common.”
I’m not sure what he means, but I do sense an implication here. “How so?”
He glances away for a moment. “I sent the program information to you this morning. Should be in your inbox. Take your time reading the material…but not too long.”
Theo’s not usually one to be vague, but I’m a team player, and, like I said, I trust him.
I nod. “Sounds good.”
Theo grins. “I’m glad you’re on board. This is important.” He sends a pointed look toward Isaac. “I want the boy to have a chance.”
Again, I sense something stirring beneath the surface, like rip currents that catch a swimmer off guard and turn deadly if not navigated properly. Sarabella needs something to support and encourage our teenagers in a world that’s becoming more and more challenging to navigate. That’s a big motivator for me to get this program up and running. 
Right now, I can tell it’s not the time to ask about the situation with his nephew because Theo is waving at Isaac to come back, but I suspect there’s more going on here than meets the eye.
I give Theo a bro shake and a pat on the back. “I’ll get right on it.”
Isaac reaches the sidewalk somewhat winded, his cheeks pink from the effort. Sweat beads on his brow. But I can see a spark in his eyes that tells me the kid is interested in a big way. 
“Like what you see?” I ask more to confirm my suspicion than anything else.
Isaac swallows and shrugs. “Yeah, it slaps.”
Theo rests his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “That means he approves.”
I grin at Isaac. “I figured. Great meeting you, Isaac.” I bump elbows with the boy and wave to Theo as they leave.
Since I know Nick has the beach covered, I head to my office in headquarters, curious to see the details of this program Theo found. His email is simple—just a brief explanation about the attached document. I tap the PDF and wait for the first page to appear. 
And there it is, a simple title—Lifeguard Youth Program. Right to the point. But it’s the author’s name that crashes over me like a killer wave and spins my head so hard I can’t tell up from down.
The memories of her sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, and peachy scent rise quicker than high tide and wash away my conviction that I was over her.
The one who got away…
Callie Monroe.


Order Now!

<< Go Back