easy motion, she turned on her back so that she faced the surface. Sunlight streaked thinly through the water. The hull of the dive boat was plainly visible. He nodded and followed her down.
Fish streamed by, some in waves, some on their own. Though the sand was white, the water clear, there was a montage of color. Brain coral rose up in sturdy mounds, the color of saffron. Sea fans, as delicate as lace, waved pink and purple in the current. She signaled to her companion and watched a school of coral sweepers, shivering with metallic tints, turn as a unit and skim through staghorn coral.
It was a world she understood as well as, perhaps better, than the one on the surface. Here, in the silence, Liz often found the peace of mind that eluded her from day to day. The scientific names of the fish and formations they passed were no strangers to her. Once she’d studied them diligently, with dreams of solving mysteries and bringing the beauty of the world of the sea to others. That had been another life. Now she coached tourists and gave them, for hourly rates, something memorable to take home after a vacation. It was enough.
Amused, she watched an angelfish busy itself by swallowing the bubbles rising toward the surface. To entertain her students, she poked at a small damselfish. The pugnacious male clung to his territory and nipped at her. To the right, she saw sand kick up and cloud the water. Signaling for caution, Liz pointed out the platelike ray that skimmed away, annoyed by the intrusion.
The new husband showed off a bit, turning slow somersaults for his wife. As divers gained confidence, they spread out a littlefarther. Only her bodyguard and the nervous American stayed within an arm span at all times. Throughout the thirty-minute dive, Liz circled the group, watching individual divers. By the time the lesson was over, she was satisfied that her customers had gotten their money’s worth. This was verified when they surfaced.
“Great!” A British businessman on his first trip to Mexico clambered back onto the deck. His face was reddened by the sun but he didn’t seem to mind. “When can we go down again?”
With a laugh, Liz helped other passengers on board. “You have to balance your down time with your surface time. But we’ll go down again.”
“What was that feathery-looking stuff?” someone else asked. “It grows like a bush.”
“It’s a gorgonian, from the Gorgons of mythology.” She slipped off her tanks and flexed her muscles. “If you remember, the Gorgons had snakes for hair. The whip gorgonian has a resilient skeletal structure and undulates like a snake with the current.”
More questions were tossed out, more answers supplied. Liz noticed the American who’d stayed with her, sitting by himself, smiling a little. Liz moved around gear then dropped down beside him.
“You did very well.”
“Yeah?” He looked a little dazed as he shrugged his shoulders. “I liked it, but I gotta admit, I felt better knowing you were right there. You sure know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve been at it a long time.”
He sat back, unzipping his wet suit to his waist. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I wondered about you. You’re American, aren’t you?”
It had been asked before. Liz combed her fingers through her wet hair. “That’s right.”
“From?”
“Houston.”
“No kidding.” His eyes lit up. “Hell, I went to school in Texas. Texas A and M.”
“Really?” The little tug she felt rarely came and went. “So did I, briefly.”
“Small world,” he said, pleased with himself. “I like Texas. Got a few friends in Houston. I don’t suppose you know the Dresscots?”
“No.”
“Well, Houston isn’t exactly small-town U.S.A.” He stretched out long, skinny legs that were shades paler than his arms but starting to tan. “So you went to Texas A and M.”
“That’s right.”
“What’d you study?”
She smiled and looked out to sea. “Marine biology.”
“Guess
Fish streamed by, some in waves, some on their own. Though the sand was white, the water clear, there was a montage of color. Brain coral rose up in sturdy mounds, the color of saffron. Sea fans, as delicate as lace, waved pink and purple in the current. She signaled to her companion and watched a school of coral sweepers, shivering with metallic tints, turn as a unit and skim through staghorn coral.
It was a world she understood as well as, perhaps better, than the one on the surface. Here, in the silence, Liz often found the peace of mind that eluded her from day to day. The scientific names of the fish and formations they passed were no strangers to her. Once she’d studied them diligently, with dreams of solving mysteries and bringing the beauty of the world of the sea to others. That had been another life. Now she coached tourists and gave them, for hourly rates, something memorable to take home after a vacation. It was enough.
Amused, she watched an angelfish busy itself by swallowing the bubbles rising toward the surface. To entertain her students, she poked at a small damselfish. The pugnacious male clung to his territory and nipped at her. To the right, she saw sand kick up and cloud the water. Signaling for caution, Liz pointed out the platelike ray that skimmed away, annoyed by the intrusion.
The new husband showed off a bit, turning slow somersaults for his wife. As divers gained confidence, they spread out a littlefarther. Only her bodyguard and the nervous American stayed within an arm span at all times. Throughout the thirty-minute dive, Liz circled the group, watching individual divers. By the time the lesson was over, she was satisfied that her customers had gotten their money’s worth. This was verified when they surfaced.
“Great!” A British businessman on his first trip to Mexico clambered back onto the deck. His face was reddened by the sun but he didn’t seem to mind. “When can we go down again?”
With a laugh, Liz helped other passengers on board. “You have to balance your down time with your surface time. But we’ll go down again.”
“What was that feathery-looking stuff?” someone else asked. “It grows like a bush.”
“It’s a gorgonian, from the Gorgons of mythology.” She slipped off her tanks and flexed her muscles. “If you remember, the Gorgons had snakes for hair. The whip gorgonian has a resilient skeletal structure and undulates like a snake with the current.”
More questions were tossed out, more answers supplied. Liz noticed the American who’d stayed with her, sitting by himself, smiling a little. Liz moved around gear then dropped down beside him.
“You did very well.”
“Yeah?” He looked a little dazed as he shrugged his shoulders. “I liked it, but I gotta admit, I felt better knowing you were right there. You sure know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve been at it a long time.”
He sat back, unzipping his wet suit to his waist. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I wondered about you. You’re American, aren’t you?”
It had been asked before. Liz combed her fingers through her wet hair. “That’s right.”
“From?”
“Houston.”
“No kidding.” His eyes lit up. “Hell, I went to school in Texas. Texas A and M.”
“Really?” The little tug she felt rarely came and went. “So did I, briefly.”
“Small world,” he said, pleased with himself. “I like Texas. Got a few friends in Houston. I don’t suppose you know the Dresscots?”
“No.”
“Well, Houston isn’t exactly small-town U.S.A.” He stretched out long, skinny legs that were shades paler than his arms but starting to tan. “So you went to Texas A and M.”
“That’s right.”
“What’d you study?”
She smiled and looked out to sea. “Marine biology.”
“Guess
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