Page 25 of The Scent of Salt & Sand

“Shall we go on our picnic?”

Her nose wrinkled with excitement. “A picnic?”

“If you want,” Dean said.

“Oh, I want! I want!”

Feeling better and better about Nana’s advice, Dean walked arm-in-arm with Melody, cutting through the beautiful neighborhood that made up the Marina District. As they passed a wine bar, Dean ducked in, buying a chilled bottle of pinot grigio that was the color of moonlight. From there it was a quick walk to the Marina Green, where he spread out a red-and-white checked blanket.

“If you put out the food, I’ll open the wine,” Dean suggested.

Melody began to go through the basket, making happy noises as she discovered the cutlery, wineglasses, and neatly wrapped sandwiches.

Soon they were chewing enthusiastically as Melody propped her new book on the basket between them, and started thumbing through the glossy, full-color photographs, pausing to comment on the pictures of sea lions, dolphins, and otters.

Dean mostly listened to her talk about the sea life, impressed by the depth of her knowledge. For every question he asked she had an answer, even though some of her answers seemed more in jest than in earnest—still, he was having a great time.

“How do you know so much about ocean life?” he asked, using his hand to shield his face from the sun.

“Classes, mostly. But also stories passed down from our elders. They’re the ones with real experience.” Her lips twitched with melancholy as she flipped through the pages.

“So, is your family full of marine biologists, or teachers, or—”

“Oh, Dean!” she interrupted, her excitement almost palpable. “You have humpbacks here! I’ve never talked with a humpback before. There are mostly just sperm whales in Greece. At least, that’s what my mom used to tell me.”

Intrigued by her sudden enthusiasm, he chuckled, “Do they talk, too?”

“Of course. All whales talk,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Did your mom ever tell you what they would say?” Dean asked.

“Sperm whales sing songs to each other—males and females, entire families, talk and sing in clicks and squeaks. What do they say?” She grinned. “They talk about the same things we do when we talk to our families. Only they can say it at a depth of three thousand feet, and can stay underwater for ninety minutes.”

“Does that book say all of that?”

“No,” she laughed. “The whales say all of that. And my mom told me they’re amazingly friendly. Young sperm whales like to have their heads rubbed. I love swimming,” she mused. “And it would be amazing to swim with a whale.”

“I guess it figures that as much as you love the water, you’d be a diver,” Dean said.

“Oh, sure, I dive, but I’ve never gone down three thousand feet.” She skimmed the last page before closing the book. “Or at least, not yet I haven’t. The water at home doesn’t get that deep.”

“I hope you’re kidding,” Dean said as he refreshed her glass of wine.

Then, taking Dean by complete surprise, she leaned into him and kissed him softly on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For doing all of this.” Melody made a gesture that took in their picnic lunch and the Marina. “It makes me feel special. So, thank you.” She leaned into him again, and Dean sat very still as she gently kissed him on the mouth.

“That is the perfect thank you.” Dean inhaled the sugary perfume floating from the gardenia nestled above her ear. “And you are special.” He took her hand carefully in his.

“I’m glad you gave us another chance,” Melody said, her lips brushing against his.

“You’re worth it.” The words came out shaky as his pulse thrummed under his skin, and he tensed against the urge to envelop her.

“Dude, I thought it was you!”

He bolted upright, almost knocking his head against Melody’s. “Kait?” He squinted, his attitude sobering.