Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Shaking her head at her foolishness, she texted her brother.
You don’t need to worry. Tessa’s going to wear the perfect wedding dress, and it won’t be coming from a thrift store. It’s Mom’s. Surf tomorrow?
She ended the message with the surfing emoji and a big picture of the sunshine.
She didn’t always feel like surfing with her siblings—the ocean was her thing, her special place—but sometimes it could be a fun way of spending family time, and she had a feeling that Archer might need to get out and get some exercise. His leg had healed beautifully from the break, but she knew from experience that catching some waves and working on his balance would be really good for his PT. It wasn’t fair only to rely on Tessa for his rehab—she now had two weddings to plan.
Thinking about surfing brought her mind back to Herschel. She couldn’t imagine being so afraid of the ocean that you would insist your house not have a view of the water. She so wanted to help him with this fear, but in this case, she couldn’t even lead the astronaut to water, let alone make him surf.
Shaking her head, she put her clothes in the dryer and then sat in an armchair with her laptop balanced on the armrest. She toyed with the idea of catching up on some more email, but instead found herself heading straight to YouTube. Her fingers typed his name, and within seconds, she pulled up the video of Herschel singing “Happy Birthday” to his mom in space. She felt herself grin as he explained it was his mom’s sixtieth birthday, and then he pulled out the guitar he’d taken up with him before revealing the cake he’d somehow managed to bake. It was decorated with LED lights for candles.
She remembered seeing bits of the video on the news and had been charmed, like the rest of the world. Her gaze darted to the bottom of the screen, and she saw that the video had millions of views. It was strange. Now that she knew him in real life, she knew Herschel was a private kind of guy. He wanted a house with lots of land so he could roam freely, away from any neighbors. He wanted privacy and quiet and to be close to nature. Yet here he was, making a happy spectacle of himself in space just for the love of his mom. She had to admire how he set aside his more introverted self to do something special for the number one woman in his life. She grinned again as the song ended and had to admit that she wanted that man. Badly.
As tended to happen with YouTube, another, related video began to load. This one was a news story loaded with the horrific details of how Hersch had nearly died. She drew away from the screen, afraid to watch though he’d made it out alive. As the story unfolded, she found her eyes filling with tears. It was almost unbearable to listen as the news reporters so calmly disclosed the rescue efforts. The malfunctioning capsule floundered in the stormy ocean, and one by one the astronauts were rescued. Just as it was Herschel’s turn—the last man out—a ferocious wave knocked the doomed capsule sideways.
She shook her head at the screen. He must have been so scared.
One of the commentators, a former astronaut, explained how astronauts’ muscles tended to atrophy while they were in space, and no matter how strong a swimmer Herschel Greenfield was, it would be all too easy to drown after months in microgravity. While the world held its collective breath, amazingly, miraculously, he was picked up. The footage was pretty rough, but she saw the brave way he lifted his hand in a wave as he was hauled up onto the rescue boat.
She wiped a tear off her cheek. How thoughtless she’d been to push him to get back in the water—to offer surf lessons so many times. She vowed to stay away from the subject and respect what the man had been through.
Even as she had the thought, though, she knew deep down that he needed to find his way back—at least to be able to get his feet in the water, maybe swim a little bit.
The next video was a montage of his exploits as an Ironman competitor. She felt her jaw drop at how easy he made it look, though she knew it was physically grueling. Her jaw stayed dropped as she checked out his hot body. That man knew a thing or two about how to build muscle. The montage ended with his last competition, two years ago. He’d been a pretty high-level Ironman competitor, but he hadn’t competed since that last space mission.
She could help him. She only hoped he would give her a chance.