Page 41 of Hidden Depths

As she considered how she and Tom might spend time together while he was here, she explored small pools nestled among the rocks where tiny crabs skittered for cover as she leaned closer.

“I know how you feel.” She dipped her hand into the warm water. “I used to be like that too, running for cover without bothering to check if the threat was real. I was afraid of everything. But don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. Not that there is any way for you to know that. I’m just glad I know now. No more running for me. This is my home.” She stood and looked around her. “From the tiny ecosystem only revealed at low tide to the blistering sun and colorful markets. Tom was right. I am lucky to live here the way I do.”

But it wouldn’t satisfy her forever. She knew that. Without her anxiety to fill her days, she’d need to find something to keep her occupied. And she’d start today, trying everything she could think of and seeing what stuck.

Growing up, she used to explore the woods that bordered her house. She’d daydreamed about adventures as she’d climbed trees and built forts. Back then, she’d enjoyed the world around her and had wished for more. Too long the Keys had been her prison.

She continued climbing across the boulders, nearly twisting an ankle, until finally making her way back onto the road. Walking slowly, she picked wildflowers that had sprung up in the gravel before she realized it had taken her away from the coast and she had no idea how many miles from home. This was an area she’d never been.

After checking the position of the sun, she climbed through thick brush and made her way back near the beach where she came across a fence obstructing the way to the water. It was old and rusted, nearly falling down in places.

She checked the length of it that she could see, but there were no signs, so she climbed over a warped section where it had been twisted by the roots of a tree.

It wasn’t until she got around a sharp bend in the coastline that she saw the reason for the fence. She stopped and curled her fingers through the wire while she took in the old fishing jetty.

It looked abandoned. Prime real estate no one was using. She inspected the fence again but could see no notices suggesting it was private property or that there were any dangers to be wary of.

Carefully moving closer, she continued to scan for any indication of a hazard but could only see piles of discarded fishing net and broken oars as she followed the fence to the rutted parking area. The shed on the other side looked like it would collapse in a strong wind, but it was old enough that it would have sustained plenty of hurricanes.

Her legs itched to carry her out the open gate, but she forced herself to stay in place. She was done making decisions based on fear.

Pulling out her phone, she walked out onto one of the docks to a take a few pictures of the dinghies gathered there. Photography was a hobby she hadn’t explored yet, and this place had interesting subject matter.

She stooped low, took a couple of shots, then checked the pictures, frowning as she attempted to improve the images by applying various filters.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “So maybe photography is not a hobby I should pick up. It is definitely not as easy as it looks.”

Her pictures only showed the patches of repairs and the chaos of the discarded items that had lived in the boat for who knew how long. But she couldn’t capture what she saw. The faded paint that still held a vitality of years long ago.

She blew out a disappointed breath and put her phone away, staring out across the ocean.

When the planks groaned behind her, her body erupted in a sizzle of nerves, and she turned stiffly.

“Can I help you?”

She faced a man with jet black hair and a day’s growth on his face. He had an intimidating build, and his question was harsh, but he was more annoyed than threatening.

“I—” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m taking pictures.”

His eyes narrowed. “What for?”

When he took a step toward her, she stepped back, realizing he was moving her back out onto the dock. She turned, wondering if it would be possible to swim to safety if she jumped in, but there was nowhere she could go that he couldn’t get there first.

“I’m a photographer.”

He scoffed. “What’re you really doing here?”

He took another step closer, but this time, she held her ground. “I’m telling you the truth. I was exploring. I only came in because I thought it was abandoned. If I knew anyone was here, I never would have trespassed.”

“This is private property.”

She took a deep breath. “Like I said. I didn’t know. I’ll leave.”

His eyes travelled the length of her body. “You a tourist?”

“Yes,” she answered too quickly. “I leave tomorrow.”

“You make a habit of entering private property?”

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