Going Overboard
The morning had been... unproductive, at best. Useless was a better term, or even wasted, but Emmeline refused to surrender to apathy and preferred to think it had simply been a quiet rest. When she had found herself rewriting the same paragraph for the fifth time, she'd given up, grabbed her dive bag and a snorkel and headed to the shore.
The dive master smiled when he saw her. "Afternoon, Em," he called cheerfully. "Hitting the water today? Thought we weren't diving the Vandenberg again till next week."
Emmeline smiled in return, dropping the knitted bag carrying her equipment on a battered wooden table in the dive master's storefront. Taking a moment to untangle a black hair-tie from the scattering of beaded bracelets on her wrist, Emmeline busied herself pulling her long dark hair into a haphazard ponytail.
"Nothing too deep, Harry. Just felt like taking a surface peek. Heard you'd spotted some gorgeous brain coral last weekend, I'd love to see it."
The grizzled old diver chuckled, slugging back the last of his lukewarm coffee. "Sure, sure thing, I'll take you out," he agreed. "But no more souvenirs, Miss Emmeline. You're going to get me into trouble."
Emmeline just smiled.
On the deck of a small diving boat a little way from the Key West shoreline, Emmeline Keddle untied the straps of her ankle-length sundress and let it fall in a puddle around her ankles, in full view of the old dive master and a handful of tourist divers on board. In another world and another life, the same woman might be horrified at the thought of being seen in such a state of undress, a swimsuit far too skimpy for her sensibilities, and grip the sleeves of her sweater tightly, brow furrowed in worry that such a thing might occur. But here, in this world, Emmeline paid little mind to the others and dove overboard, snorkel and a titanium dive knife in the bag tied to her wrist.