“I know you said you did gymnastics, but did you play volleyball for your dad?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, he’s a great coach, but he always encouraged me to do what was right for me. And volleyball wasn’t it. I tried and I was okay, but it wasn’t what I loved.”
“You loved horses.”
“Since I was a little girl. My mom gave me this statue of a horse when I was really little, and that’s what started the whole thing. I got my first horse for Christmas when I was eight, and it’s still the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received. Slocum. She was this really gentle old mare, and she was perfect for me. The deal was that I had to take care of her—feed her and brush her and keep her stall clean. Between her, school, gymnastics, and taking care of the rest of the animals, that was pretty much all I had time for.”
“The rest of the animals?”
“When I was growing up, our house was kind of like a farm. Dogs, cats, even a llama for a while. I was a sucker when it came to strays. My parents got to the point where they wouldn’t even argue with me about it. There were usually four or five at any one time. Sometimes an owner would come, hoping to find a lost pet, and he’d leave with one of our recent additions if he couldn’t find it. We were like the pound.”
“Your parents were patient.”
“Yes,” she said, “they were. But they were suckers for strays, too. Even though she’d deny it, my mom was worse than me.”
I studied her. “I’ll bet you were a good student.”
“Straight A’s. I was valedictorian of my class.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Why?”
I didn’t answer. “Did you ever have a serious boyfriend?”
“Oh, now we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty, huh?”
“I was just asking.”
“What do you think?”
“I think,” I said, dragging out the words, “I have no idea.”
She laughed. “Then . . . let’s let that question go for now. A little mystery is good for the soul. Besides, I’d be willing to bet you can figure it out on your own.”
The waitress arrived with the bucket of shrimp and a couple of plastic containers of cocktail sauce, set them on the table, and refilled our tea with the efficiency of someone who’d been doing it for way too long. She turned on her heels without asking whether we needed anything else.
“This place is legendary for its hospitality.”
“She’s just busy,” Savannah said, reaching for a shrimp. “And besides, I think she knows you’re grilling me and wanted to leave me to my inquisitor.”
She cracked the shrimp and peeled it, then dipped it in the sauce before taking a bite. I reached in the pail and set a couple on my plate.
“What else do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. Anything. What’s the best thing about being in college?”
She thought about it as she filled her plate. “Good teachers,” she finally said. “In college, you can sometimes pick your professors, as long as you’re flexible with your schedule. That’s what I like. Before I started, that was the advice my dad gave me. He said to pick classes based on the teacher whenever you can, not the subject. I mean, he knew that you had to take certain subjects to get a degree, but his point was that good teachers are priceless. They inspire you, they entertain you, and you end up learning a ton even when you don’t know it.”
“Because they’re passionate about their subjects,” I said.
She winked. “Exactly. And he was right. I’ve taken classes in subjects I never thought I’d be interested in and as far away from my major as you can imagine. But you know what? I still remember those classes as if I were still taking them.”
“I’m impressed. I thought you’d say something like going to the basketball games was the best part about being in college. It’s like a religion at Chapel Hill.”
“I enjoy those, too. Just like I enjoy the friends I’m making and living away from Mom and Dad and all that. I’ve learned a lot since I left Lenoir. I mean, I had a wonderful life there, and my parents are great, but I was . . . sheltered. I’ve had a few eye-opening experiences.”
“Like what?”
“Lots of things. Like feeling the pressure to drink or hook up with a guy every time I went out. My first year, I hated UNC. I didn’t feel like I fit in, and I didn’t. I begged my parents to let me come home or transfer, but they wouldn’t agree. I think they knew that in the long run I’d regret it, and they were probably right. It wasn’t until some time during my sophomore year that I met some girls who felt the same way I did about those types of things, and it’s been a lot better ever since. I joined a couple of Christian student groups, I spend Saturday mornings at a shelter in Raleigh serving the poor, and I feel no pressure at all to go to this or that party or date this or that guy. And if I do go to a party, the pressure doesn’t get to me. I just accept the fact that I don’t have to do what everyone else does. I can do what’s right for me.”
Which explained why she was with me last night, I thought. And right now, for that matter.
She brightened. “It’s kind of like you, I guess. In the past couple of years, I’ve grown up. So in addition to both of us being expert surfers, we have that in common, too.”
I laughed. “Yeah. Except that I struggled a lot more than you did.”
She leaned forward again. “My dad always said that when you’re struggling with something, look at all the people around you and realize that every single person you see is struggling with something, and to them, it’s just as hard as what you’re going through.”
“Your dad sounds like a smart man.”
“Mom and Dad both. I think they both graduated in the top five in college. That’s how they met. Studying in the library. Education was really important to both of them, and they sort of made me their project. I mean, I was reading before I got to kindergarten, but they never made it seem like a chore. And they’ve talked to me like I was an adult for as long as I can remember.”
For a moment, I wondered how different my life would have been had they been my parents, but I shook the thought away. I knew my father had done the best he could, and I had no regrets about the way I’d turned out. Regrets about the journey, maybe, but not the destination. Because however it had happened, I’d somehow ended up eating shrimp in a dingy downtown shack with a girl that I already knew I’d never forget.
After dinner, we headed back to the house, which was surprisingly quiet. The music was still playing, but most people were relaxing around the fire, as if anticipating an early morning. Tim sat among them, engrossed in earnest conversation. Surprising me, Savannah reached for my hand, halting me in my tracks before we reached the group.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said. “I want to let dinner settle just a little before I sit down.”
Above us, a few wispy clouds were spread among the stars, and the moon, still full, hovered just over the horizon. A light breeze fanned my cheek, and I could hear the ceaseless motion of the waves as they rolled up the shore. The tide had gone out, and we moved to the harder, more compact sand near the water’s edge. Savannah put a hand on my shoulder for balance as she removed one sandal, then another. When she finished, I did the same, and we walked in silence for a few steps.
“It’s so beautiful out here. I mean, I love the mountains, but this is wonderful in its own way. It’s . . . peaceful.”
I felt the same words could be used to describe her, and I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I can’t believe that I only met you yesterday,” she added. “It seems like I’ve known you much longer.”
Her hand felt warm and comfortable in mine. “I was thinking the same thing.”
She gave a dreamy smile, studying the stars. “I wonder what Tim thinks about this,” she murmured. She glanced at me. “He thinks I’m a little naive.”
“Are you?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted, and I laughed.
She went on. “I mean, when I see two people heading off on a walk like this, I’m thinking, Oh, that’s sweet. I’m not thinking they’re going to hook up behind the dunes. But the fact is, sometimes they do. I just never realize it beforehand, and I’m always surprised when I hear about it later. I can’t help it. Like last night, after you left. I heard about two people here who did just that, and I couldn’t believe it.”
“I would have been more surprised if it hadn’t happened.”
“That’s what I don’t like about college, by the way. It’s like a lot of people don’t believe these years really count, so you’re allowed to experiment with . . . whatever. There’s such a casual view about things like sex and drinking and even drugs. I know that sounds really old-fashioned, but I just don’t get it. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to go sit by the fire like everyone else. To be honest, I’m kind of disappointed in those two people I heard about, and I don’t want to sit there trying to pretend that I’m not. I know I shouldn’t judge, and I’m sure they’re good people since they’re here to help, but still, what was the point? Shouldn’t you save things like that for someone you love? So that it really means something?”
I knew she didn’t want answers, nor did I offer any.
“Who told you about that couple?” I asked instead.
“Tim. I think he was disappointed, too, but what’s he going to do? Kick them out?”
We had gone a good way down the beach, and we turned around. In the distance, I could see the circle of figures silhouetted by the fire. The mist smelled of salt, and ghost crabs scattered to their holes as we approached.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was out of line there.”
“About what?”
“For being so . . . upset about it. I shouldn’t pass judgment. It’s not my place.”
“Everyone judges,” I said. “It’s human nature.”
“I know. But . . . I’m not perfect, either. In the end, it’s only God’s judgment that matters, and I’ve learned enough to know that no one can presume to know the will of God.”
I smiled.
“What?” she asked.
“The way you talk reminds me of our chaplain. He says the same thing.”
We strolled down the beach, and as we neared the house, we moved away from the water’s edge, into the softer sand. Our feet slipped with every step, and I could feel Savannah tighten her grip on my hand. I wondered whether she would let go when we got close to the fire, and I was disappointed when she did.
“Hey,” Tim called out, his voice friendly. “You’re back.”
Randy was there, too, and he wore his usual sulky expression. Frankly, I was getting a bit tired of his resentment. Brad stood behind Susan, who was leaning into his chest. Susan seemed undecided about whether to pretend to be happy, so she could learn the details from Savannah, or to be upset for Randy’s benefit. The others, obviously indifferent, went back to their conversations. Tim stood and made his way toward us.
“How was dinner?”
“It was great,” Savannah said. “I got a taste of local culture. We went to the Shrimp Shack.”
“Sounds like fun,” he commented.
I strained to detect any undercurrent of jealousy but found none. Tim motioned over his shoulder and went on. “Do you two want to join us? We’re just winding down, getting ready for tomorrow.”
“Actually, I’m a bit sleepy. I was just going to walk John to his car, and after that I’ll turn in. What time do we need to be up?”
“Six. We’ll have breakfast and be at the site tomorrow by seven-thirty. Don’t forget your sunscreen. We’ll be out in the sun all day.”
“I’ll remember. You should remind everyone else.”
“I have,” he said. “And I’ll do it again tomorrow. But you just wait—some folks won’t listen and they’ll get fried.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.
“All right.” He turned his attention to me. “I’m glad you came by today.”
“Me too,” I said.
“And listen, if you find yourself bored in the next couple of weeks, we could always use an extra hand.”
I laughed. “I knew it was coming.”
“I am who I am,” he said, holding out his hand. “But either way, I hope to see you again.”
We shook hands. Tim went back to his seat, and Savannah nodded toward the house. We made our way toward the dune, stopped to put our sandals back on, then followed the wooden pathway, through the sea grass, and around the house. A minute later, we were at the car. In the darkness, I couldn’t make out her expression.
“I had a good time tonight,” she said. “And today.”
I swallowed. “When can I see you again?”
It was a simple question, expected even, but I was surprised to hear the desire in my tone. I hadn’t even kissed her yet.
“I suppose,” she said, “that depends on you. You know where I am.”
“How about tomorrow night?” I blurted out. “I know of another place that has a band, and it’s a lot of fun.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How about the night after? Would that be okay? It’s just that the first day at the site is always . . . exciting and tiring at the same time. We have a big group dinner, and I really shouldn’t miss it.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said, thinking it wasn’t fine at all.
She must have heard something in my voice. “Like Tim said, you’re welcome to come by if you’d like.”
“No, that’s okay. Tuesday night’s fine.”
We continued to stand there, one of those awkward moments I’ll probably never get used to, but she turned away before I could attempt a kiss. Normally, I would have plunged ahead just to see what happened; I may not have been open about my feelings, but I was impulsive and quick to action. With Savannah, I felt oddly paralyzed. She didn’t appear to be in any hurry, either.
A car passed by, breaking the spell. She took a step toward the house, then stopped and put her hand on my arm. In an innocent gesture, she kissed me on the cheek. It was almost sisterly, but her lips were soft and the scent of her engulfed me, lingering even after she pulled back.
“I really did have a good time,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ll forget about today for a long, long time.”
I felt her hand leave my arm, and then in a whisper she vanished, retreating up the stairs of the house.
At home later that night, I found myself tossing and turning in bed, reliving the events of the day. Finally I sat up, wishing I had told her how much our day had meant to me. Outside my window, I saw a shooting star cross the sky in a brilliant streak of white. I wanted to believe it was an omen, though of what, I wasn’t sure. Instead, all I could do was replay Savannah’s gentle kiss on my cheek for the hundredth time and wonder how I could be falling for a girl that I’d met only the day before.