For this reason, Ben slowed his breathing, wanting to prolong the shark’s visit for as long as possible. Perhaps sensing this, it turned and circled back, providing him a glimpse of its slitted gold-brown eyes. He saw then that there were two others accompanying it. The three companions moved in unison, their powerful tails snaking from side to side, their gills fluttering. Smaller fish moved away as the larger predators pressed, disinterested, through their midst, coming together again in the safety of schools once the danger had passed.

As the dark-spotted sharks turned once more and headed for open ocean, Ben gave a contented sigh, releasing the air he had been holding in his lungs and sending a net of bubbles surfaceward. Perhaps, he thought, the sharks were an omen of good luck. He hoped so. He knew he would need all the luck he could get.

When he looked back to the kelp blade, he found that the nudibranch was in the process of laying eggs. It had secreted a small ribbon of them, the beginning of what would become a spiraling wreath containing thousands. Exhibiting the same lack of urgency it applied to all of its activities, the nudibranch seemed fully prepared to continue its work for as many hours as it took.

Ben left it to its endeavors and turned back toward shallower water. Although he had enough air left in his tanks to allow him another half hour, he sensed the protective magic of the cove fading. His calm had been disturbed by the thoughts of Caddie, and he knew it was futile to try and banish the memories now that they had surfaced.

He swam back in more quickly than he had gone out, following the channel that ran down the center of the cove. As he wound his way through the kelp stalks, he noted the changes in landscape, the transition from rock to sand, the thinning of the kelp forest into more open spaces. Sand dollars, martialed in rows like silent soldiers, dutifully faced the current, while elsewhere nervous shrimp peered out from beneath protective ledges.

As his depth decreased, he released air from both his suit and his buoyancy control vest to offset the change in pressure. He attempted to remain submerged for as long as possible, until, at six feet, he found it impossible to stay down. Only then did his head break the surface, returning him to the world above.

He had made it almost all the way in. The boat ramp that provided access to the water was less than ten yards away. He swam to it and floated on his back as he removed first one fin and then the other. Then, standing, he walked slowly up the mossy ramp, sometimes using the rocks to balance himself as a small wave washed over the concrete. He’d slipped on it enough times to know that it could be treacherous, and the last thing he needed was a trip to the emergency room. He could hear Carol now, accusing him of doing it on purpose for some unspecified, but implied, selfish reason. He hoped Caddie had not inherited her mother’s talent for finding malice where none existed.