Tony DiSanto was the big brother or favorite uncle she’d never had.
She’d met him on the beach. He was the first person Brinna ever rented a kayak from, and he eventually helped her find one to buy. Not generally inclined to open up to people right away, Brinna liked Tony from the first. He and his family were normal , unlike Brinna’s own and unlike the many dysfunctional families she dealt with at work. She loved the way he talked with his hands and how his expression was always open and friendly.
His devotion to his twin six-year-old granddaughters, Carla and Bella, touched something deep inside. She saw him as he started to walk her way.
“Hey, Brinna.” Tony waved. “My good friend, how have you been?” He walked toward her across wet sand.
“I’ve been good. Where have you been?”
“Back east. My mother is sick.”
“Sorry to hear that. Is it serious?”
“Getting old is serious . . . and terminal.” He shrugged and jutted his chin toward Brinna. “Look at you —how dark you are for a good Italian girl.”
“I was out in the desert for a couple of days. I tan easily.”
Tony shook a finger at her. “Be careful you don’t get that skin cancer. I’d hate to see them cutting things off that beautiful face.” He smiled. “By the way, what’s going on with the newspapers these days? A few days ago they were patting youon the back for finding a kid; now I read they’re throwing the book at you for a shooting?”
Brinna groaned. “I don’t know what to think.” Briefly she filled him in on the shooting and then taking off to Utah. “I just got back; I don’t know what the problem is with the shooting.”
Tony waved both hands dismissively. “Hey, first you were heroic; you’ll be heroic again. You care about kids. Kids need people like you on their side.”
A bit embarrassed, Brinna sighed and fumbled for something to say. “I hate anyone who takes advantage of the innocent.”
Tony stood next to her and they both gazed at the bay. “Hear, hear. If something like what happened to you happened to one of my precious granddaughters —” he clenched his teeth, raised his hands, and sputtered an Italian curse —“I’d be in jail for killing the guy.” He turned to face Brinna. “Still, call me old-fashioned, but I worry about you out there. There are too many sick, crazy people in this world. People shooting at you.”
“Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself. My worry is always for those who can’t. I need to protect kids from those maniacs. That’s why I do what I do, my friend. I want to feel useful, like I can help, you know?” And I want to balance the scales. Someone found me. I owe it to victimized kids to do my best to find them.
“Just be careful. And on the water today, there are a lot of novices out there.” He motioned to her kayak. “Don’t run anyone over.”
Brinna laughed and it felt good. “I won’t. When it’s like this, I pretend I’m alone. I shut them out and do my own thing. Want to give me a push off?”
“Sure thing. Enjoy.”
Brinna slid the kayak partway into the gentle surf and climbed in, setting a bottle of water in front of her. Once she was set and her paddle ready, Tony shoved until the boat was all the way off the beach and into the water.
Paddle in hand, she used short, strong strokes to move away from the shore. A line of floats roped together separated the beach and swimming area from the channel. Brinna navigated through an opening and dodged a beginner piloting a sailboat poorly.
Out in the bay channel, she steered left to paddle away from Second Street and toward Spinnaker Bay. Brinna would cut across Marine Stadium and around Spinnaker Bay, through the marina and back to Second Street.
The hot sun beat down as she paddled through Marine Stadium, but it was blunted somewhat by a pleasant breeze. Brinna sighed and felt tension drain from her shoulders with each stroke.
As she dug into the water
She’d met him on the beach. He was the first person Brinna ever rented a kayak from, and he eventually helped her find one to buy. Not generally inclined to open up to people right away, Brinna liked Tony from the first. He and his family were normal , unlike Brinna’s own and unlike the many dysfunctional families she dealt with at work. She loved the way he talked with his hands and how his expression was always open and friendly.
His devotion to his twin six-year-old granddaughters, Carla and Bella, touched something deep inside. She saw him as he started to walk her way.
“Hey, Brinna.” Tony waved. “My good friend, how have you been?” He walked toward her across wet sand.
“I’ve been good. Where have you been?”
“Back east. My mother is sick.”
“Sorry to hear that. Is it serious?”
“Getting old is serious . . . and terminal.” He shrugged and jutted his chin toward Brinna. “Look at you —how dark you are for a good Italian girl.”
“I was out in the desert for a couple of days. I tan easily.”
Tony shook a finger at her. “Be careful you don’t get that skin cancer. I’d hate to see them cutting things off that beautiful face.” He smiled. “By the way, what’s going on with the newspapers these days? A few days ago they were patting youon the back for finding a kid; now I read they’re throwing the book at you for a shooting?”
Brinna groaned. “I don’t know what to think.” Briefly she filled him in on the shooting and then taking off to Utah. “I just got back; I don’t know what the problem is with the shooting.”
Tony waved both hands dismissively. “Hey, first you were heroic; you’ll be heroic again. You care about kids. Kids need people like you on their side.”
A bit embarrassed, Brinna sighed and fumbled for something to say. “I hate anyone who takes advantage of the innocent.”
Tony stood next to her and they both gazed at the bay. “Hear, hear. If something like what happened to you happened to one of my precious granddaughters —” he clenched his teeth, raised his hands, and sputtered an Italian curse —“I’d be in jail for killing the guy.” He turned to face Brinna. “Still, call me old-fashioned, but I worry about you out there. There are too many sick, crazy people in this world. People shooting at you.”
“Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself. My worry is always for those who can’t. I need to protect kids from those maniacs. That’s why I do what I do, my friend. I want to feel useful, like I can help, you know?” And I want to balance the scales. Someone found me. I owe it to victimized kids to do my best to find them.
“Just be careful. And on the water today, there are a lot of novices out there.” He motioned to her kayak. “Don’t run anyone over.”
Brinna laughed and it felt good. “I won’t. When it’s like this, I pretend I’m alone. I shut them out and do my own thing. Want to give me a push off?”
“Sure thing. Enjoy.”
Brinna slid the kayak partway into the gentle surf and climbed in, setting a bottle of water in front of her. Once she was set and her paddle ready, Tony shoved until the boat was all the way off the beach and into the water.
Paddle in hand, she used short, strong strokes to move away from the shore. A line of floats roped together separated the beach and swimming area from the channel. Brinna navigated through an opening and dodged a beginner piloting a sailboat poorly.
Out in the bay channel, she steered left to paddle away from Second Street and toward Spinnaker Bay. Brinna would cut across Marine Stadium and around Spinnaker Bay, through the marina and back to Second Street.
The hot sun beat down as she paddled through Marine Stadium, but it was blunted somewhat by a pleasant breeze. Brinna sighed and felt tension drain from her shoulders with each stroke.
As she dug into the water
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