Never Said

10. JULY [Jumpon, Gon]

.oOo.

"Are you sure you're up for it, Jump? We've still got pictures to take before heading for safety."

"I'm fine, Pete" he held up his left hand, "It's just a sprain. I'll grab the brace from First Aid and finish lockdown before going home."

The gruff-looking, grey-haired man with soft eyes frowned. "I can call Doug down from the shop to finish up tonight," he gestured with his chin, "you can just head on home."

Jumpon shook his head. "No, no-no." He held up his good hand, wiggling his fingers. "I'll finish. Tomorrow starts my weekend. I can finish."

The older man deepened his frown, displeasure clear on his face. "I'll stay with you then. I'm just going to worry until I know you're home and got it iced."

Jumpon nodded his head sporting a lopsided grin. "Ah ah ah. Okay okay." He slid his pained wrist into the blue brace and gently tugged the thick fasteners into place. "Hhm?" He made a face and held it up for Pete to inspect.

Pete shook his head and waved him off. "Stubborn," he said as he gathered thick, bright yellow nylon rope from the bench in the office before heading back toward the dock.

Jumpon walked in the opposite direction, toward the pier, to pull in the waste cans and clear the area for the storm. It hadn't hit yet but it was on the way, and the surges were estimated to be ten feet or more in the thick of it, which would engulf the pier and lap at the foundation of the harbormaster's house. Getting everything tied down and locked up had been their priority all day–and tying a rope too tight is what got him hurt.

Heaving a sigh, he stared at the wrapped wrist before reaching for a trash bin. He was relieved the canisters weren't heavy and could be dragged along the wooden path with one hand. Visitors were scarce today as most tourists got spooked by choppy waters. Ferries were canceled and overall dock traffic diminished in anticipation of the tropical storm. Little Green Heart Island was a nice place to visit, but most folks wouldn't want to be stranded there–especially if they lost power.

The silence was eerie before the storm. The reliable ocean wind was replaced by a warm, soft breeze and the air smelled heavily of brine. Jumpon closed the containers, and other loose gear, in the shed behind the harbourmaster's house. Tugging the lock, ensuring its closure, he moved down the incline and closed the shutters on the small, one-room office.

The wind started picking up just as he had finished securing the workroom. "Almost done?" Pete asked. Jumpon nodded. "You mind?" He held up a digital camera. The young man smiled widely, eyes nearly disappearing, and nodded again before taking a photo of the old man. "Ut! Hey now!" Pete swatted at him, but Jumpon dodged, laughing his way out the door.

Grinning, the lean figure started taking photos. Before a big storm, it was his unofficial job to grab snapshots of the area to make it easier to see damage after the danger had passed. This made repairs and insurance claims more straightforward and, even if nothing came from it, gave everyone peace of mind.

After making his way around the perimeter, clicking pictures as he went, he checked on the handful of crafts secured to the dock and then headed toward the pier. Jumpon clicked a few shots before noticing something on the walkway. "Bracelet?" Letting the camera dangle from the strap around his wrapped wrist, he stooped to carefully grasp the object. "Or necklace?" He murmured as he examined the smooth, white stone wrapped in a soft, green woven band. Looking around, as though its owner could be nearby, he raised a brow before pocketing the unusual find. It was slightly damp and looked pretty new, so maybe one of the handful of folks who tied up their boats somehow lost it? Surely, the owner would want it back. He'd drop it in the lost and found box before leaving for the night.