“So,” he said to her as he polished off the last of his burgers, “are you going to party tonight?”
“No,” Daria said.
“I’m just going to have some cake with Chloe and Shelly.”
n
“Oh, right,” Andy said.
“It’s Shelly’s birthday, too, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh. She’s twenty-two.” Hard to believe. Shelly still seemed like a child to her.
Andy drank the last swallow of his soda and set the empty cup on the tray.
“Well, I think you and Shelly should go out on the town tonight and do it right.”
“I have to teach a class at the fire station,” Daria said, as if that was the only thing keeping her from ‘going out on the town. “
“You do?” Andy looked surprised.
“I thought you weren’t” — “I’m not working as an EMT,” Daria finished his sentence for him.
“I
still want to be an instructor, though. This will be the first class I’ve taught since . in a while. “
He had to know she meant it was her first class since April, when the seaplane went down in the ocean and changed everything in her life, but he wisely said nothing. Daria was anxious about teaching again.
Tonight would be the first time she’d faced the other emergency medical technicians since turning in her resignation from the volunteer force, and she knew she had left them confused-and short-handed—by her sudden departure. She feared she had lost credibility with them, as well.
She left the restaurant with Andy, wondering how he felt about her quitting. Andy longed to be an EMT. He’d failed the exam twice, and Daria knew it was unlikely he would ever pass it, although he seemed determined to keep trying. He had been at the plane crash back in April, though, and he surely understood how horrendous that situation had been for her. But even Andy didn’t know the entire story.
The class at the fire station that evening proved that Daria had been right to be nervous about teaching again.
No one seemed to know what to say to her. Were they angry with her for leaving so abruptly, or just disappointed in her? Most of them probably thought she had left because her fiance, Pete, had resigned, and she allowed them that misperception. It was easier than telling them the truth. A few of them, those who had known her for many years, were aware that her leaving had something to do with the crash of the seaplane, but even those people did not understand. After ten years as a volunteer EMT, with a reputation as the “local hero” who possessed exceptional skills and steely nerves, it was unthinkable that one failed rescue attempt could flatten Daria to that extent. As she stood in front of the class that evening, she couldn’t blame any of them for their confusion or sudden distrust of her. After all, she was teaching them to perform tasks she was no longer willing to perform herself.
She wondered if she truly had the right to be teaching at all. Walking out to her car after the class, she was painfully aware that no one was following her to ask questions or even to chat. They all hung back in the classroom, probably waiting until she’d left the building to begin talking about her.
It was a bit after eight o’clock as she drove home from the station.
Although it was only Thursday night and still early in the season, the traffic on the main road was already growing thick with tourists. She knew what that meant:
accidents, heart attacks, near drownings. Shuddering, she was glad she was no longer an EMT.
She pulled into the driveway of the Sea Shanty, parking behind Chloe’s car. As of this week, all the driveways in the cul-de-sac were full.
Seeing the cars, Daria suddenly missed the isolation of the winter months, when she and Shelly had the cul- de-sac entirely to themselves.
They’d lived in Kill Devil Hills year-round for ten years, and usually she looked forward to the cul-de-sac’s coming to life in the summer.
But there was too much explaining to do this year.
“Where’s Pete?” everyone would want to know. And “Why did you quit being an EMT?” She was tired of answering those questions.
Chloe was sitting in one of the rockers on the porch, reading a book by the porch light.
“I’ve got an ice-cream cake in the freezer,” she said.
“Now all we need is Shelly.”
“Where is she?”
“Out on the beach, where else?” Chloe said.
“She’s been out there for a couple of hours.”
Daria sat down on another of the rockers.
“I don’t like her to walk on the beach at night,” she said.
“She’s twenty-two years old, sis,” Chloe said.
Chloe didn’t get it. She was only with them during the summer months, when she directed the day-camp program for kids at St. Esther’s Church. She wasn’t with Shelly enough to know how poor the young woman’s judgment could be. Shelly could pick up some stranger on the beach, or some stranger could pick her up. It had happened before.
