The Choice - Nicholas Sparks [42]
“Here’s getting to know you, kid.”
Travis tossed aside his baseball cap. “C’mon,” he said to Gabby, “I’ll help you with your harness.”
After stepping off the platform, Liz handed over the life preserver.
“It’s so much fun,” she said. “You’re going to love it.”
Travis led Gabby to the platform. After hopping up, he bent over, offering a hand. She could feel the warmth in it as he helped her up. The harness lay crumpled, and he pointed toward two open loops.
“Step in those and pull it up. I’ll tighten it for you.”
She held her body steady against the tugs of the canvas straps. “That’s it?”
“Almost. When you sit on the platform, keep the wide strap under your thighs. You don’t want it under your . . . backside, because that doesn’t support your weight as well. And you might want to take off your shirt, unless you don’t mind getting it wet.”
She slipped off her shirt, trying not to feel nervous.
If Travis noticed her self-consciousness, he gave no sign. Instead, he hooked up the straps of her harness to the bar, then his own, then motioned for her to sit.
“It’s under your thighs, right?” Travis asked. When she nodded, he smiled. “Just relax and enjoy, okay?”
A second later, Joe pushed the throttle, the chute filled, and Gabby and Travis were lifted from the deck. In the boat, she felt everyone’s eyes on them as they rose diagonally toward the sky. Gabby gripped the canvas straps so hard that her knuckles turned white while the boat grew smaller. In time, the tow rope to the boat captured her attention like a hypnotic decoy. It quickly felt as if she were a whole lot higher than anyone else had been, and she was about to say something when she felt Travis touch her shoulder.
“Look over there!” he said, pointing. “There’s a ray! Can you see it?”
She saw it, black and sleek, moving beneath the surface like a slow-motion butterfly.
“And a pod of dolphins! Over there! Near the banks!”
As she marveled at the sight, her nervousness started to subside. Instead, she began to soak in the view of everything below—the town, the families sprawled on the beaches, the boats, the water. As she relaxed, she found herself thinking that she could probably spend an hour up here without ever growing tired of it. It was extraordinary to drift along at this elevation, coasting effortlessly on a wind current, as if she were a bird. Despite the heat, the breeze kept her cool, and as she rocked her feet back and forth, she felt the harness sway.
“Are you willing to be dipped?” he asked. “I promise it’ll be fun.”
“Let’s do it,” she agreed. To her ears, her voice sounded strangely confident.
Travis engaged Joe in a quick series of hand signals, and beneath her, the whine of the boat suddenly diminished. The parachute began to descend. Staring at the rapidly approaching water, she scanned the surface to make sure nothing was lurking below.
The parachute dipped lower and lower, and though she lifted her legs, she felt cold water splash on her lower body. Just when she thought she was going to have to start treading water, the boat accelerated and they shot skyward again. Gabby felt adrenaline surge through her body and didn’t bother trying to hide her grin.
Travis nudged her. “See? It wasn’t bad at all.”
“Can we do that again?” she asked.
Travis and Gabby rode for another quarter hour, dipping two or three more times; once they were brought back to the boat, each couple rode once more. By then, the sun was high in the sky and the kids were getting fussy. Travis steered the boat toward the cove at Cape Lookout. The water grew shallow, and Travis stopped the boat; Joe tossed the anchor overboard, removed his shirt, and followed the anchor into the water. The water was waist-deep, and with practiced ease, Matt handed him a cooler. Matt took off his shirt and jumped in; Joe handed him a cooler, then followed him into the water while Travis took his place. When Travis jumped in, he carried a small, portable grill and bag of charcoal briquettes. Simultaneously, the mothers