until after dinner.
Jason and Sean spent several hours switching out the engines. Brent used the time to do some rough editing, Elizabeth transferred her handwritten research notes to her laptop and Taryn made a couple of pizzas.
Still reeling from the boat accident, and her subsequent conversation with Sean, Daniela immersed herself in work, writing a detailed log of the Steller sea lions she’d observed that day. From what she’d seen, the population was thriving. Tomorrow, she would do a comprehensive head count, and take blood samples to send to the lab.
At the end of the evening, they gathered around the television to watch Brent’s “home movie.” Daniela wasn’t looking forward to reliving the incident, or seeing herself on film, but it would be cowardly to decline.
She’d come here to face her fears, not run from them.
She took a seat next to Elizabeth, who also seemed reluctant to watch. Her posture was stiff and her lips were pursed with displeasure. Taryn, on the other hand, was totally relaxed, curled up on the other side of the couch. Sean lounged on the floor nearby, his forearm propped up on one bent knee, his back resting against the cushioned frame.
Ready to see some action, Jason had sprawled out in the middle of the floor, his hands braced behind his head.
Brent knelt next to the TV, cueing up the clip. “This is a very rough cut,” he warned. “Like watching dailies.”
“Just play it,” Jason said. “We don’t even know what dailies are.”
Brent seemed excited about sharing his vision with them. His boyish enthusiasm made Daniela smile.
He pressed play, and the footage started in an unexpected place, with a conversation between Jason and Sean. Daniela had to admit, Brent knew what he was doing. The natural lighting was superb, his subjects were handsome and the backdrop was spectacular.
In one frame, he’d captured the harsh beauty of the island and the rugged appeal of two of its very charismatic inhabitants.
This was no ordinary documentary.
Jason had his hand on Sean’s shoulder, and they were admiring something in the distance. Their body language suggested they were discussing a beautiful woman, and she felt a pang of longing, wanting to be that woman.
A few seconds later, she realized they were talking about the Perfect Wave. Sean wasn’t discouraging Jason from riding it, either. On the contrary, he seemed intent on tasting a slice of that pie himself.
Beside her, Elizabeth clenched her hands into fists.
Daniela waited for Sean and Jason to say they were only joking, but that didn’t happen. Jason shared a serious story about a friend who’d drowned, and the scene ended with a wide shot of the breaking wave.
Elizabeth rose to her feet. “I can’t believe you! Your best friend dies, so you want to follow him? And you—” She pointed a finger at Sean, narrowing her eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t encourage him.”
Sean straightened to defend himself. “I promised I wouldn’t help him. There’s a difference.”
She threw her hands in the air.
“Sean did try to talk me out of it,” Jason explained, “and this tricky bastard cut that part out of the footage.”
Brent smiled wryly, guilty as charged.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did he cut the part where you said you weren’t going to do it, too?”
“Not exactly,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
Elizabeth had heard enough. She grabbed her knapsack off the table and started toward the staircase.
“Keep this up, and I’ll be fooled into thinking you care,” Jason murmured.
Without so much as a backward glance, she went upstairs.
“Maybe I shouldn’t play the rest,” Brent said.
Taryn waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t worry about her. I can’t wait to see it. Some of us like a little excitement.” With a pointed glance at Daniela, she smoothed her palm over Sean’s shoulder, giving him a com forting squeeze.
Brent looked from Sean to Taryn to Daniela,
Jason and Sean spent several hours switching out the engines. Brent used the time to do some rough editing, Elizabeth transferred her handwritten research notes to her laptop and Taryn made a couple of pizzas.
Still reeling from the boat accident, and her subsequent conversation with Sean, Daniela immersed herself in work, writing a detailed log of the Steller sea lions she’d observed that day. From what she’d seen, the population was thriving. Tomorrow, she would do a comprehensive head count, and take blood samples to send to the lab.
At the end of the evening, they gathered around the television to watch Brent’s “home movie.” Daniela wasn’t looking forward to reliving the incident, or seeing herself on film, but it would be cowardly to decline.
She’d come here to face her fears, not run from them.
She took a seat next to Elizabeth, who also seemed reluctant to watch. Her posture was stiff and her lips were pursed with displeasure. Taryn, on the other hand, was totally relaxed, curled up on the other side of the couch. Sean lounged on the floor nearby, his forearm propped up on one bent knee, his back resting against the cushioned frame.
Ready to see some action, Jason had sprawled out in the middle of the floor, his hands braced behind his head.
Brent knelt next to the TV, cueing up the clip. “This is a very rough cut,” he warned. “Like watching dailies.”
“Just play it,” Jason said. “We don’t even know what dailies are.”
Brent seemed excited about sharing his vision with them. His boyish enthusiasm made Daniela smile.
He pressed play, and the footage started in an unexpected place, with a conversation between Jason and Sean. Daniela had to admit, Brent knew what he was doing. The natural lighting was superb, his subjects were handsome and the backdrop was spectacular.
In one frame, he’d captured the harsh beauty of the island and the rugged appeal of two of its very charismatic inhabitants.
This was no ordinary documentary.
Jason had his hand on Sean’s shoulder, and they were admiring something in the distance. Their body language suggested they were discussing a beautiful woman, and she felt a pang of longing, wanting to be that woman.
A few seconds later, she realized they were talking about the Perfect Wave. Sean wasn’t discouraging Jason from riding it, either. On the contrary, he seemed intent on tasting a slice of that pie himself.
Beside her, Elizabeth clenched her hands into fists.
Daniela waited for Sean and Jason to say they were only joking, but that didn’t happen. Jason shared a serious story about a friend who’d drowned, and the scene ended with a wide shot of the breaking wave.
Elizabeth rose to her feet. “I can’t believe you! Your best friend dies, so you want to follow him? And you—” She pointed a finger at Sean, narrowing her eyes. “You promised you wouldn’t encourage him.”
Sean straightened to defend himself. “I promised I wouldn’t help him. There’s a difference.”
She threw her hands in the air.
“Sean did try to talk me out of it,” Jason explained, “and this tricky bastard cut that part out of the footage.”
Brent smiled wryly, guilty as charged.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did he cut the part where you said you weren’t going to do it, too?”
“Not exactly,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
Elizabeth had heard enough. She grabbed her knapsack off the table and started toward the staircase.
“Keep this up, and I’ll be fooled into thinking you care,” Jason murmured.
Without so much as a backward glance, she went upstairs.
“Maybe I shouldn’t play the rest,” Brent said.
Taryn waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t worry about her. I can’t wait to see it. Some of us like a little excitement.” With a pointed glance at Daniela, she smoothed her palm over Sean’s shoulder, giving him a com forting squeeze.
Brent looked from Sean to Taryn to Daniela,
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