It Comes In Waves by Erika Marks

should he? Dressed in a stiff, floral sundress, Claire no more looked the part of a surfer than did the shorebirds that skittered around them.
    Fifteen minutes later, when Foster came in to check on her, unable to hold it in any longer, she made her confession to him.
    â€œGet the heck out!” he cried. “
You
surf?”
    Claire lifted her chin. “I surf.”
    â€œShow me,” he said.
    â€œNow?”
    â€œWhy not now?”
    â€œI don’t have a suit,” she said.
    â€œNo problem. I’ll get you one from my shop. Well, technically it’s my
mom’s
shop,” he added sheepishly. “It’s where everybody hangs out. It’s kind of like our extended family. It’s just up the beach.”
    Ten minutes later, Claire was stepping into a brightly painted cottage packed with customers. Music blared and voices rose to be heard above it. Claire followed Foster as he snaked through the crowds and the cluttered aisles of merchandise, pointing. Up ahead, a loud group of men in their twenties, most of them barefoot and shirtless, flocked around the counter.
    â€œWhat’s up there?” Claire asked.
    Foster grinned at her over his shoulder. “My mom.”
    Sure enough, when they got closer, Claire could see a woman with nearly waist-length kinky blond hair shining through the masses.
    Foster shoved his way through the crowd. “Hey, y’all, break it up, break it up!”
    Good-natured laughs ensued as the crew slid apart to let him in, taking turns slapping him on the back. The blond woman darted over the counter, arms out, and pulled Foster in for a long hug. When she released him, he turned and motioned for Claire to join them.
    â€œClaire, this is my mom, Ivy. Mom, this is Claire. Claire says she can surf and I’m not letting her go back to her fancy house up the beach until she proves it.”
    The two things Claire noticed when the woman reached out her hand in greeting were her beautiful cornflower blue eyes, the same shade as her son’s, and the tattooed purple and navy vines dotted with richly colored poppy blossoms that ran down the arm she’d extended. “Atta girl! This world needs more of us women blowin’ these know-it-all men out of the water. What kind of board do you use?”
    Claire looked at Foster, stunned and thrilled at the question. While she knew there was a whole world of sizes and shapes, she’d only ever used one.
    â€œA long board,” she answered.
    Ivy nodded. “Foss, honey, ask Jerry to give her Mike’s. Claire, look on the wall for a suit you like,” Ivy said, gesturing behind her. “Take your pick.”
    Claire reached first for a simple navy one-piece, then stopped, seeing a bright red one behind it. Why not? A little color never hurt anyone. She changed in the stockroom, left her clothes in a tangled pile in the corner, and met Foster outside, where he waited with two boards.
    â€œWow.”
His face lit up. “You look totally hot. Like a little spicy red pepper.”
    She’d ride like one too, Claire decided as they walked down the beach toward the waves. She’d ride as if her life depended on it and make his jaw drop.
    At the water’s edge, Foster steered them to where the breaks were best.
    â€œYour mom is really cool,” Claire said as they walked into the water.
    â€œShe’s the best. Everybody loves her.”
    â€œSo, where’s your dad?”
    â€œIn Hawaii, last we heard.” His smile thinned, his eyes squinted harshly against the sun. “He’s got this whole new family out there. Like, five kids. I don’t hear from him, and I don’t want to.” Foster turned to her, his smile back again. “You’re gonna blow my mind, aren’t you,
Pepper
?”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    F rom the minute she got up on her board, Claire did just that. Whether her talent was a product of luck or the