Mortal Remains

by Mary Ann Fraser

  “I’m still here.”

  “Get help!”

  “There’s no time. Hold on. I’m going to try something.”

  His bare foot appeared beside my left shoulder and his other, the opposite. He was lowering himself down between the boulders. “Go back! You’re going to get stuck and then we’ll both drown.”

  Bracing his back against one boulder, his legs against the other, he grabbed me by the waist and heaved. A muffled cry escaped my lips. It was no good. I was stuck tighter than a limpet.

  “I’m sorry,” he yelled.

  “Forget apologies. Just get me out of here!”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “Do it faster!” I pinched my eyes and mouth shut against a wave rushing in and gasped for breath when it cleared.

  “I have another idea. When the next wave hits, wait for my signal and then push all the air from your lungs. All of it. Ready?”

  I bobbed my head, but inside I was losing hope that either of us would escape this. On cue, the next wave gushed in through the narrow cavity. “Now!” Adam shouted above the torrent. Against my better instincts, I emptied my lungs, allowing my chest to shrink. Water flooded the sliver of space between the slime-covered rocks until I was fully submerged. I fought the urge to breathe. If I held my breath much longer, either I’d lose consciousness or my body would override my brain and my lungs would involuntarily expand to fill with seawater.

  Adam placed the ball of his foot against my shoulder and pushed. My whole body twisted sideways, and I was free. Gasping for air, I had less than a minute to shimmy into a wider space before the next onslaught. Then, with Adam’s coaching, I righted myself, grabbed hold of a ledge, and scrambled up and out.

  Together we limped across the boulders to safety. Once clear of the incoming waves, Adam hopped down onto the sand. “Jump. I’ll catch you, I promise.”

  I hesitated. The last time I heard those words, it ended badly.

  “Lily?” he asked, his arms open and ready.

  The moment was about more than my safety. Did I trust him or not?

  I closed my eyes and leaped. The next thing I knew, I was cradled in his arms. I lassoed my arms around his neck, craving the warmth of his sun-drenched body. His hold on me was awkward and unsure, but full of such unimaginable tenderness, it nearly brought me to tears. A new kind of terror seeped in. What would happen to me when he let go? But he didn’t; instead he pulled me closer. The fact that we clung so tightly to each other underscored the depths of our mutual loneliness. Why were we resisting the thing we’d both desperately needed for so long?

  Gradually my shivering subsided, and he gently set me on my feet beside a beached tree stump, its protective bark long gone, leaving its inner layers exposed to the elements. “Thanks” was all I managed. The word was so inadequate, but if I said any more, I would lose it. Dad trained me better than that. “How did you find me?”

  “When I asked where you were, that girl with the lotion said she saw you wandering down the beach.”

  “I needed to be alone.” Nothing could be further from the truth. What I needed was him, and he found me—like I found him.

  “I’ve really screwed things up with the funeral home, haven’t I?”

  He took my pruney blue hands in his. “Sturbridge would have found another way to get what he wants. You know that. But I’m surprised you care.”

  “You couldn’t be more surprised than I am. All this time I thought I wanted out, when what I really wanted was a choice. How can my father sell our family business?”

  “Maybe he thinks it’s best for everyone.”

  “Like you wanting to leave.”

  This, I realized, was the real reason I was so devastated. I lost my mother before I knew her, and now I was close to losing both my future career and Mallory. I was terrified I would lose him, too.

  “Don’t leave me,” I said. Saying the words out loud and opening my heart to him brought me to a whole new level of vulnerable. And vulnerability? It felt a lot like drowning.

  I braced myself for the inevitable rejection. Instead he stroked my cheek. “I’m here now. Can’t that be enough?”

  No. I wanted more.

  He folded me into his arms. Warm skin and a steady hold. Is this what love feels like? Heavy breathing and a racing heart. Is this what love sounds like? There was only one way to know for sure: I had to tell him how I felt. “Adam, I—”

  “Lily, wait.” The way he said my name sounded nothing like the first time; the meaning was gone. With a single finger he lifted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. I saw no love there—only guilt. “All I want is to do the right thing by you. Please don’t make it any more difficult.”

  I eased away. “What do you mean, ‘do the right thing’?”

  “Hey, there you guys are!” shouted Mallory, jogging toward us. I wondered how much she’d seen. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” She pointed to the scratches up and down my legs and shoulders. “What happened to you?”

  “I fell between some boulders. Lucky for me, Adam came along.” In more ways than one, I realized. “I’ll be all right. Where are Melissa and Vega?”

  “They’re on assignment.” She smiled wryly.

  “Does that assignment happen to have a name, like—oh, I don’t know—Dana, perhaps?”

  “It might.” She waved her hand. “Oh, did Adam tell you? Evan won! He actually won! You have to see the trophy. It’s made of gold-sprayed sunblock cans and bike handlebars and is nearly as tall as me.” She grabbed me by the hand and started pulling me back toward the party. I signaled for Adam to join us, but he chose to trail behind.

  It was a painful slog back along the beach, each step a reminder of how close I’d come to drowning. The three of us circled the public restrooms to find a small crowd gathered around two rows of heads poking out of the sand—today’s losers. It was a wonder I wasn’t joining them.

  A disgruntled Dana was reading them their last rites. She spotted me. “Hey, this should be your job, not mine.”

  I could feel Adam willing me to reply with some smart remark. I came up empty.

  “Dana, you’ve got this,” Mallory said, chuckling. “Carry on.” She leaned close and admitted to me that Melissa and Vega’s task had been to volunteer Dana for the job.

  “Nice one, Mal,” I said.

  Dana muttered something in Italian, then continued where she’d left off. “And forever more we shall remember your pathetic performance today. May you rest in pieces.”

  To whoops and hollers, a guy dressed in a black terry-cloth shroud stepped forward and dumped buckets of seawater over their heads while another guy sprinkled them with stale hamburger buns donated by the snack shack. Immediately a seagull circling overhead dive-bombed one of the losers for a piece of soggy bread. Another bird released a foul white stream. Together Mal and I had a good laugh, my first of the day. Adam, I noticed, almost smiled. I’ve got to work on that with him.

  When we reached the showers, I asked for a minute to clean up. They gave me time to rinse off the grit, slime, and blood, and then Mal insisted we stop by the lifeguard station for bandages and ointment. Adam held my hand the whole time it took to patch me up, ignoring the ghoulish, puckered scars that railroaded my upper thighs.

  “I’m starving,” I said, once my wounds were dressed. “Let’s check out the barbecue.”

  “You two go ahead,” said Mal with a wink. “The rest of us already ate.”

  I ignored her insinuation, telling myself nothing happened between Adam and me. But something had happened. I’d opened up to Adam, and he didn’t run screaming.

  Adam and I wandered over to where they were serving the last of the burgers and dogs. Too late I spied Hayden and his goons schmoozing it up with some of the sponsors.

  “Wait here,” snarled Adam, “while I wipe that grin off his face.”

  I reached for his arm. “Knocking out his teeth won’t change what he did to you or to Mallory. People lik
e that don’t change.”

  “I’ll make him wish he could change.”

  “No. Then you’ll be just like him. Promise me you won’t do anything to Hayden.”

  “I can’t make that kind of promise,” he said.

  “Please,” I begged, fully aware that his promises weren’t like other people’s. “For me.”

  He wanted to fight me on this, but to my relief he gave in. “All right. I promise I won’t touch Hayden Jornet.”

  “Or anyone else this weekend.”

  “But I—”

  “Or anyone else.” I wouldn’t budge on this. The last thing I wanted was another incident like the one at Hayden’s spoiling the weekend.

  “Fine. For you. I promise no fighting.”

  Hayden strolled over, all false charm, and I felt Adam tense beside me. “You promised,” I reminded him under my breath.

  “I won’t touch him.” He squared his shoulders and glared as Hayden passed off his designer shades to a bystander. His fellow sharks smelled blood and circled, ready for a feeding frenzy.

  Adam advanced to meet him, hesitated, then, true to his word, backed down.

  “Coward,” Hayden taunted. As if he would lift a finger against Adam. He’d rather egg someone else into doing his dirty work for him.

  Together Adam and I returned to where our towels lay half-buried in the sand, crisis averted—for now. “You’re no coward,” I reassured him. “It takes guts to walk away.”

  “No. Only a promise.”

  RULE #28

  PAY SPECIAL ATTENTION TO THE LIPS.

  We were clustered around our beach encampment, but unlike this time last year, Evan was in a celebratory mood.

  “How did you win?” I asked. “Adam said you didn’t even place in the skimboard contest, and that’s supposed to be your best event.”

  “I won’t lie,” said Evan, “I didn’t think I stood a chance at winning, especially after I took third in the Frisbee toss. My only shot to win was the run. What I couldn’t figure out was how Mumford’s feet weren’t burning. Those dunes were blisteringly hot. He’s used to racing in track shoes, not barefoot. Then, halfway through the race, I got a peek at the bottom of his feet. He duct-taped his soles.” Evan shook his head. “You should’ve seen his face when I caught up to him. He didn’t know I’d been training barefoot all summer to build calluses. By the home stretch, we were running neck and neck. That’s when he stuck out a leg to trip me and pulled his groin. I crossed the finish line first, and Mumford had to be carried off the course.”

  “Serves him right for cheating,” said Mallory.

  Evan gave a snort. “Actually, I just came from talking to him, and he thanked me.”

  “Why?” Adam was totally confused.

  “Well, for half an hour that hot lifeguard with the ATV held a cool pack to his groin. He’s thinking it all worked out for the best.”

  We all shared a good laugh at that.

  The sun gave up the sky as a dense fog slinked inland, driving partiers toward the bonfire. I argued for staying put, but after Justin reported seeing Hayden head for the parking lot, I let Mallory talk me into joining the others.

  With Justin, Dana, and Mallory serving as his entourage, Evan waded into the thick of the crowd to bask in the glory of his triumph. Adam, who joined me at the fringe of the gathering, commented that all Evan lacked was a victor’s crown of laurel leaves.

  In silence we watched sparks and smoke rise to meet the fog while couples bound in blankets beside us did what couples do. New arrivals filled in around us, forcing Adam and me to shift closer and closer to each other. I could hardly breathe. It was not the crowd suffocating me; it was the weight of my own hypocrisy. I’d demanded nothing but honesty from Adam but had failed to give him the same even after he rescued me from the tide.

  As if reading my mind, Adam stood and offered a hand. “Walk with me. We need to talk.”

  It’s never a good thing when someone says that.

  I let him lead me away from the crowd, but whatever was on his mind, he was in no rush to bring it up. Nor was I. Not when this could be our last evening together. We let the foamy surf washing over our feet do all the scripting. It spoke of change, of rises and falls. It spoke of dark secrets lurking in the wings of our own private theater. But this was Adam’s scene to direct, so I waited.

  “Pea soup,” he said.

  Not exactly the opening line I was expecting. “Did you say ‘pea soup’?”

  He nodded toward our audience: row upon row of black and restless waves beneath a velvet curtain of fog. “I expected the ocean to remind me of pea soup.”

  “Why?”

  “The popular theory is that oceans spawned the first life on Earth from an amalgamation of minerals resembling pea soup. Looking out at the ocean, I wonder how anyone could think that is true.”

  “Our bodies are seventy percent water.”

  “Good point, except my father had another theory about life’s origins. He believed life first emerged from self-replicating clay particles.”

  I kicked at the surf. “I think I like the pea-soup theory better,”

  “I see.” He sounded weirdly disappointed.

  The curtain of fog closed over us, obliterating the full moon overhead. We continued along the shore, straying farther and farther from the bonfire, and, I suspected, from the point of this walk—owning up to each other.

  Clearing my conscience wasn’t going to get any easier. “Adam, I have something I need to tell you.”

  “It can wait, can’t it?”

  “I guess. Sure.” My shoulders dropped in relief. I’d tell him tomorrow.

  Something white and crescent-shaped in the sand caught my eye. A sand dollar, half-buried at my feet. I reached down and plucked it from the surf, marveling at my good luck. The ocean here was rough, and few ever made it ashore intact, but this one was whole. “Ever see a sand dollar before?”

  “No,” he said, sounding unsure, but his bank of knowledge and memories since leaving the shelter often defied explanation. Adam examined the brittle white disk as I pointed out how the markings on top formed a perfect star.

  “Shake it,” I said. “What do you hear?”

  “A rattle. It’s broken.”

  I laughed. “No, it’s not broken. What you’re hearing are the bones of angel wings.”

  He cocked his head skeptically.

  “When I was little,” I said, “I used to lie awake with worry: What if the house caught fire? Or what if I didn’t wake up in the morning? Stuff like that.”

  “Seem like reasonable worries to me.”

  Considering what he’d been through, he had a point. “Anyway, my grandfather gave me a sand dollar to comfort me after my accident. You see, one day at the beach he told me a story about how we each have three angels: one to bring us into the world, one to watch over us while we sleep, and one to escort us out at the end. Once their jobs are complete, the angels seal their wings inside a white purse in the shape of a moon, mark it with a star, and fling it into the ocean. In time only the bones remain, and that’s why it rattles.”

  “A sand dollar for everyone who has ever lived and died,” he mused. “I want to see the angel wing bones.” He wrapped his fingers around its edges, preparing to snap it in two.

  “No, don’t break it! Grandpa Ted said if you find a sand dollar and keep it safe, it will bring you long life.”

  “Do you still have the one he gave you?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s long gone.” And so was the boy I’d intended to give it to.

  “And yet here you are.”

  Thanks to a kiss. I knew he couldn’t be the same Adam, yet my eyes found his lips, so full and perfect. I wondered if they tasted salty. Were they warm? Or as cool and damp as the evening air?

  “It all sounds like superstition to me,” he said.

  “Keep it just the same.”

  Adam slipped the sand dollar into his back pocket.

  With our back
s to the sea, neither of us noticed the water sneaking up on us until it washed against the backs of our knees. I squealed in surprise, and he scooped me up and carried me to dry sand beyond the ocean’s reach. I kicked and fussed—“Put me down. Put me down!”—all while my arms roped more tightly around his shoulders.

  He tripped over a chunk of driftwood and together we tumbled into a shallow depression in the sand. “You klutz!” I teased between embarrassed laughter and half-hearted swats. He retaliated by grabbing me by the shoulders and pinning me beneath him. I pretended to call for help.

  “Hush, people will think I’m doing something indecent to you,” he warned.

  “Why don’t you?” I said, startling us both with my boldness. “No one can see us in this fog.” I placed a hand on each side of his waist, waiting for him to resist. When he didn’t, I pulled him closer, in pure defiance of my better judgment.

  All my resolve to play it smart, all my common sense, was lost to hot breath, racing pulses, and skin touching skin. Adam’s fingers wove into my hair. I could feel his heart beating next to mine, and for an instant, it was as if we shared the one between us.

  Adam’s whole body tensed, and he pulled away. “Lily, I need to—”

  “Shh.” I placed a finger to his lips. “It can wait.”

  He surrendered too easily, and I was too willing to let him.

  His fingers smoothed the creases in my worried brow, then traced the swoop of my nose, the curve of that space between lip and chin as though committing each dip and bow to memory. I considered what it might mean, and alarms started going off. Danger, Will Robinson! warned what shred of my common sense was still operating.

  This is not a movie or a television script with a guaranteed happy ending. Kiss Adam and you’ve got a whole lot to lose. He’s going to dump your sorry ass as soon as you return home, and then where will you be?

  I told my common sense to shove it and leaned in.

  “LI-LY!” Evan’s voice cut through the moment like a foghorn. “LI-LY!”

  Adam rolled away from me, and there was a crunch from his back pocket. The sand dollar.

  I could hear the worry in my stepbrother’s voice. “Over here,” I called.