[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
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It was Memorial Day, or more accurately, the bane of my existence as a lifeguard.
It was one of those holidays this year where everyone in a hundred-mile radius seemed to have gravitated to the beach, transforming it from a barren, sandy landscape to a maze of neon umbrellas and squealing children. The crowd hadn't showed up to Cape Cod for no reason, as not a single cloud marred the azure sky of this strangely hot day for late May.
I had no reason to complain, as this was my job and I liked it—most of the time—but I didn't know how many reckless young people ignoring the blows of our whistles it would take before I exploded.
"Excuse me, Miss, I have a question?" I bristled, knowing I was going to be met with another tourist asking me where the restrooms were. When I looked downwards to meet the friendly face of a seventy-year-old man dressed in a floral shirt and bucket hat, the deep frown on my face lifted. "Where are the restrooms?"
"Down that way and to your right, sir," I told him and smiled as the old man trudged his way up the hot sand.
Stella, my seatmate, nudged me in the ribs. "Do you think we need to make a PSA for where the restrooms are at this point?" She dug her hand into her box of peanut butter cookies for the fifth time in the last hour. "You know, since that's all we seem good for."
"I mean, do we really want some elaborate rescue?" I asked, reaching my hand to steal one. She slapped it away. "Our uniforms may have some red in them, but this sure as hell isn't Baywatch."
"But it might be Bae-watch," she joked, pointing her chin to the chair over.
That may have been her boyfriend's post, but her eyes weren't set on Alexander's defined, golden abs. They'd landed on the fine specimen standing on the sand below. I only knew his name, Jesse, as he was new to the team this year. From the few times we'd been in contact during trainings, we had both exchanged shy glances and quick hellos.
This time, however, he seemed less reserved. He tipped down his Ray-Bans and smiled.
I'd never seen him smile, so I returned the gesture, hoping the red color of my cheeks could have been mistaken for a sunburn.
I eyed Alex's chair for a little while longer, seeing Jesse walk away, to my disappointment. My eyes caught sight of something: the way Alex's eyes seemed to linger on the body of his seat partner, Janelle. I didn't exactly blame him for staring, since I sometimes found myself gawking at her long shapely legs or head of bouncy black curls.
Luckily—well, maybe not so—Stella didn't notice.
The hours seemed to roll by, and the sun grew higher in the sky, attracting even more crowds of people. I felt heightening pressure to be more alert, toying with the gold key necklace on my chest to keep myself occupied.
Eventually, I had my first save of the day.
Sort of.
"I think I'm lost." The girl in front of me was no more than five or six, with a head of damp dirty-blonde ringlets and blue eyes clearer than the water ahead of us. She wiped away the glassiness, embarrassed to cry in front of me. "I-I can't find my mom. Every umbrella looks the s-same."
