by Gina Sturino
Climbing from bed, I plodded to the closet to grab the fleece jacket I’d hung the evening before. Instead of pulling it on, I tied it around my waist, feeling way too hot and bothered to add the extra layer. Dane wordlessly followed me out of the room, locking the door behind us before taking the lead.
At the bottom of the stairwell, he pointed toward the beach. “Let’s walk that way. I don’t know how far we can go past that bluff.”
To our left, beyond the sandy beach with its high dunes and smattering of succulents, a jagged rocky cliff jutted above the ocean. The briny scent of seawater carried in the breeze, brushing against my cheeks.
A combination of anxiety and peace confused my senses. Slowly, we made the short trek across the street and past the sidewalk, hitting the transition from concrete to sand. It felt familiar, as if I were stepping over the threshold to a home I hadn’t occupied in years. Familiar, yet different. Changed in a way I couldn’t put my finger on.
Coarse, high stalks of tall grass began to thin out among the loose sediment. I resisted the urge to kick off my ankle socks and sneakers so I could feel the sand beneath my feet, but even with the sun shining in the clear sky—the earlier fog completely dissipated—a chill floated from the sea. I shivered.
Releasing my grip on Dane’s hand, I turned toward the bluff.
“I haven’t been here before, but it reminds me of…” My words trailed off as a lone wave in the distance formed in an otherwise dead sea. Picking up in velocity, it quickly rolled toward shallow waters. Its white crest spilled over as it smacked into the jagged rocks just beyond the shore line. Liquid crystals sprung in the air, catching the sun’s light as they cascaded through the air.
Wind and waves. Sand and salt. Land, sky, and sea.
More waves formed. Dane and I stood motionless. Faster and stronger, they continued forming and rolling to shore, crashing against the rocks with a ferocity that made the sandy ground beneath my feet shudder.
Reluctantly, my feet carried me closer to the edge of sand and sea until the gentle touch of Dane’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.
“Your shoes are getting wet.”
“Mesmerizing, isn’t it?” I murmured.
“I’ve always lived by water. Couldn’t imagine being landlocked. The sea has a healing quality, a peace that you can’t find anywhere else. Well, I suppose that isn’t entirely true. It also has been one of humanity’s greatest natural threats—tsunamis, hurricanes. The ocean is a powerful force. Some say it’s the bloodline of life.”
The ocean is a powerful force. The bloodline of life.
“I’ve had this conversation before,” I whispered.
“Hmm? Like deja-vu? Hate that feeling, so annoying and creepy.” He shrugged, then took my hand, lacing our fingers. We continued along the shoreline.
“Looks like the sea isn’t so calm anymore,” I said, then stopped walking. Turning to face Dane, I asked the question that kept playing in my head. “Do you think this is awfully weird? I mean, the coincidence that we stop here, at this random inn, and Josie knows Neal? He’s here.”
“I’ve learned over the years that nothing is a coincidence.”
There’s a reason he’s here, just as there’s a reason you’re here. And I’m certain there’s a reason I was meant to meet you.
I had this conversation with Dane before. It wasn’t deja-vu. I knew we had this conversation before.
“None of this makes sense. None of it.” I shook my head.
He studied my face before leaning in. His chin dropped to rest on the top of my head. “I can tell you’re suffering, and I wish I could take it away. But it’s not that easy. Finding peace isn’t something you can find from others. It needs to come from within. But you’ll find it. Peace exists. We have to believe it still exists, because if we give that up, we’ll never find our way back.”
“Back where?” I whispered.
“Only you can answer that,” Dane said solemnly. “Maybe seeing Neal will give you direction. I felt pretty aimless for a long time. War can wipe away hope. Hope for peace, for humanity, for the future. Hope gets lost so easily. I don’t want you to lose your way.”
I sighed. “Well, I can’t really lose my way if I don’t know where I’m going.”
Twenty-Seven
The sound of the sea settled to white background noise as Dane and I continued to walk along the shoreline. Each step brought a higher level of peace, an assurance I was on the right path, even if I didn’t know where it led. The ocean’s raw energy renewed my mental strength, readying me to face Neal, to face my past.
Dane and I came to a rocky outcropping that blocked our way, and we had to turn around. Instead of taking the same route back, we climbed up a sand dune, and followed a hiking path lined with purple wildflowers, blooming shrubs, and leathery succulents. Loose sediments and twists in the narrow trail made the trek cumbersome.
As we ascended a particularly steep dune, my shoe slipped against the sand. Flailing, I grasped Dane’s hip to steady myself.
“Whoa there,” Dane exclaimed as he looked over his shoulder and down to me.
“Guess I should have warned you, I don’t exactly consider myself the outdoor type,” I said sheepishly.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.” The corners of his eyes crinkled from the wide grin spreading across his face. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”
Dane’s use of the endearment made my stomach flutter. Suddenly shy, my eyes dropped from his face to my hands which still gripped his hips. “Well, actually, it appears I’ve got you.”
He pivoted to face me, moving so quickly that my fingers barely left his hips before they were placed back around him. Leaning in, his lips were suddenly on mine, and I felt unsteady again, shaky for a different reason.
Dane probed gently. His tongue slipped against mine, taking sweet tastes before pulling back, leaving me dizzy.
“Dang, I needed that,” he said. The wide grin reappeared again.
But I needed more. His kiss only satiated a small part of the hunger that built when our tongues collided. With my hands still on his hips, I firmly pressed into him, confirming he needed more too.
“Let’s go.” The command tumbled from my lips, low and husky.
Dane didn’t reply, instead he pivoted again, taking my hand in his as he lunged forward along the path.
Within a few minutes, the edge of the gray, weathered inn came into view. My stomach fluttered. Each step closer brought more heat to my core. When the key to our room clicked in the knob, a throaty sigh escaped my lips. Dane practically booted open the door.
As he picked me up, my legs wrapped around his waist and our mouths frantically met. He kicked the door shut behind us. Seconds later, he deposited me onto the bed. We momentarily came apart, and Dane hovered above me. We stared at one another, both breathing heavily. Lust hardened his face and darkened his eyes.
My hand reached for his cheek, breaking our spell. As soon as my fingers touched his skin, all preamble was lost. We turned desperate. Both sets of hands scrambled to remove the thin layers of clothing separating us. My shirt was gone, along with his—both tossed to the floor. We came together, skin-to-skin. Dane’s mouth returned to mine, kissing me briefly before traveling to my jaw, down my neck, and settling at the trio of freckles that blemished my collarbone. He placed three soft kisses over each speckle, then moved slowly to my sternum, caressing the flesh between my breasts with his mouth.
My breath hitched from each kiss-dampened graze of his lips. The skin beneath his breath tingled as he mapped a trail down my body. Stopping above my belly-button, Dane looked to me with stormy-blue eyes.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
My eyelids flitted down.
“You’re the hope I’ve carried all these years. The goodness I need; the future I long for. I never thought it was possible until I met you, Nova. I plan to do everything in my power to keep you safe, to be here for you, to help you. We’ll weather
whatever comes together. This arrow on my chest now points to you, the one I will protect.”
Dane then made the same pilgrimage of kisses up my neck before his lips settled on mine.
My hands moved to the back of his head, clutching his hair as I lost all shyness and deepened the kiss. The heaviness of his body crushed me, but I needed it—I needed to feel the security and weight of him.
With his body pressed against me, my physical need drew a whimper from our connected lips. Dane shifted, swiftly moving to his back while bringing me over him. His hands roamed down my sides, settling on my hips as I began to press into him, allowing a sweet pressure to build in my core.
Before it became too much, I rolled off him, and peeled the yoga pants that were like a second skin down my legs.
“Last time… we didn’t use… are you covered?” Dane awkwardly asked as he removed his own shorts.
“IUD.”
With my answer, his arms were pulling me back over him, positioning my legs over his hips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His knuckles brushed my cheek, then slid down my neck to the sensitive skin above my breasts.
My hips moved of their own volition, moving against him until the sweet pressure in my core again built to a needy ache. Our eyes locked, speaking to one another silently, pleadingly. Dane moved his hands to my hips, slowly guiding me up and then back down, filling all of me with all of him.
Twenty-Eight
The hours lazily passed as morning turned to afternoon. Dane ordered delivery for lunch while I turned on the TV and searched the stations. He flipped on the fire, and we crawled back under the covers.
After settling on a gameshow to watch, we shouted answers and ate pizza in bed. Dane declared himself winner of the first two rounds, although I questioned his faulty math in adding the final score. After the third episode ended, we hesitantly crawled from bed.
“I guess we should check out the area.” Dane stretched his arms above his head. “Let’s grab a quick shower. You can go first.”
Not bothering with my discarded clothes, I padded naked to the bathroom, giving a little wiggle of my butt when Dane whistled. The bathroom, like the inn, was old, with a low-to-the-ground toilet and a small vanity that had barely enough room to hold a cosmetic bag. I turned on the shower to let the water warm up, then brushed my teeth before stepping under the stream.
The bathroom door creaked open, and Dane—who’d dressed for the pizza delivery—stepped through, once again naked.
My skin bristled by the sight of his flawless body. The tattoo along his back rippled as he bent to pick up a fallen towel.
“Care if I join?” He flashed a devilish grin.
“Only if you answer a question first.”
“Didn’t I already beat you at Twenty Questions?” he asked, referencing the game show we’d just watched.
“What’s the lotus flower mean? On your back. What does it symbolize?”
Dane’s grin remained wide, but he blinked rapidly. “Sure. Okay, the lotus flower. Rebirth, resurrection, faith. A refusal to accept defeat. I can go on and on about its spiritual meaning, but I guess you want to know what it means to me.” He nodded his chin toward the shower, and I stepped aside to allow him space to join. “A lotus flower grows out of mud, but somehow is able to protect itself, staying beautiful among the muck. No matter the hardships it faces, it returns each day. Unwavering, unscathed, unaffected by whatever it encounters. That’s why I initially marked it on my body. A permanent reminder that no matter the trial, I can overcome it. Each day a fresh start, a new beginning.” He eyed me. Water sprayed against his face and droplets dripped off his lashes. “After the war, it no longer made sense. How can I rid myself of that ugliness? Cleanse myself of my sins? It’s not that easy. Sometimes humanity is just so damn evil, so bad, nothing can mask its filth.”
A tear rolled down my cheek as Dane bared his soul. His words rang loud and clear—touching my soul. Through my dampened eyes, I caught a similar moisture in Dane’s. Each compassioned word drew us closer, kindred spirits who found solace in one another.
Dane leaned in and tilted his head down so his nose brushed my forehead. His warm breath mingled with the steamy water. “I’m starting to believe again. Maybe there is such a thing as second chances and new beginnings. Maybe I don’t need to be defined by the past.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the accident was my lotus flower moment, my rebirth. An awakening that would lead to a new beginning—one that included Dane, and, hopefully, a fresh start with my brother.
After Dane and I finished showering and dressing, we were both starved for dinner. I checked my phone for restaurant reviews in the area. A seafood joint near the Broken Board Café was a short walk away. I still hadn’t decided whether we’d stop to see Neal after dinner or if I needed more time to process and prepare.
The waitress at Breakwater’s came to our table, blatantly gawking at Dane while asking for our drink order. I placed a possessive hand over Dane’s, smiled sweetly, and ordered the house red. When she returned with our drinks and asked about our dinner order, I hadn’t even opened the menu. Dane had me covered, selecting crab cakes for an appetizer, then suggesting sanddabs, which were a popular fish in the Bay area.
Along with our appetizer, the waitress brought another round of drinks. I downed mine. My mind raced with thoughts of Neal. What would I say to him? What if he didn’t want to see me?
“Maybe we shouldn’t just show up unannounced. I mean, it is his workplace,” I said, placing my fork down. I’d barely touched my food. “I’ve had time to kind of let this sink in—that Neal is here and I’ll get to see him—and I’m still freaking out inside. I have no idea how he’s going to react.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a surprise for him, but maybe it’s better this way? He won’t have time to build up the anticipation like you. Like ripping off the bandage. But I get what you’re saying. How about this—we can go there, sit at the bar, check things out, and see how you feel then. If you lose your cool, we’ll leave a note.”
Nodding, I plucked my cloth napkin from my lap. “I’m done.”
Dane paid the bill, then we walked the three blocks to the Broken Board Café. The temperature had dropped, but it probably was my nerves causing my shivers and shakes. I tugged my cardigan tightly around my shoulders.
Rounding a corner, signage for the Broken Board came into view. Two huge, blue and white surf boards with red slashes running through the middle stood on each side of the café’s double-doors. A small crowd mulled outside. The place looked busy for a weeknight.
“Five-dollar cover,” a bald-headed guy with bulging muscles said as we approached. “Music’s started. Goes til midnight.”
Before I could pull my wallet from my crossbody, Dane handed over a twenty.
“You guys usually this busy?” Dane asked as the man handed back change. With all the people crowding the bar, we couldn’t see the makeshift stage.
But I barely heard the bouncer’s answer. My ears were trained on Neal’s unmistakable voice floating above the crowd.
Slowly, my legs carried me closer. Nearing the U-shaped bar, I stopped short, closing my eyes and listening to lyrics I knew Neal had written himself.
“We danced in the clouds; we sang in the sun. Take me back; take me to those innocent days.”
Neal’s hypnotic voice transported me, taking me to the place he spoke of in the song, to an innocent time when I danced in the clouds while Neal sang in the sun.
Neal jumping into wild ocean waves. Me dipping a toe into a crystal-clear pond. Us taking turns playing in the tract of land behind the cottage. A rose-scented breeze floating over a field of vibrant wildflowers. Snow-white butterflies dancing in the wind. A majestic mountain shining under a brilliant sun.
“Let’s sit,” Dane whispered into my ear.
Breaking my daze, I wordlessly followed him to the bar, where a couple was vacating their barstools.
Too
transfixed by my memories, I didn’t hear Dane’s order.
“Drink,” Dane coaxed, nudging a glass of ice water toward me.
I obeyed, downing half the glass. The fuzziness in my head from the wine cleared, replaced by thoughts of Neal and our idyllic childhood.
“Can we go back; can we ever go back to those innocent days?”
Neal’s spellbinding voice melted all reservations. I looked at Dane.
“I’m going to talk to him when he’s done. Do you mind giving me some time alone with him?”
“Of course,” Dane nodded.
The song ended, and Neal grinned. The crowd whooped and whistled. He rested his guitar on a stand and wiped sweat from his forehead. A lady with dreadlocks passed him a bottle of water. He brought it up to his lips and chugged the entire bottle before handing it back. The white spotlight bounced off his shiny, shaggy hair. With his gruff beard and distressed T-shirt, he looked like an effortlessly cool combination of rockstar and surfer.
Neal sat down on the stool nearby, then leaned into the mic. “A little birdie told me there’s a very special guest in my audience tonight. Many of the locals know me well, but they may not know this piece of trivia. I’m a twin. And it so happens, my other half is here. So, Novalee, this one’s for you.”
My heart stopped. He knew I was here. Josie must’ve warned him.
“When the sea goes still, you’ll find me here, singing under a half moon bay. When the stars lose their shine, you’ll find me here, singing under a half moon bay. Singing a song so sweet, as sweet as the fruit, the fruit of the land. Singing a song so bright, as bright as the light, the light of the sky.”
Tears filled my eyes as Neal began to play. I knew it would be this song—the one that had rolled off my own tongue so frequently over the last few weeks. The lyrics he’d written for me many years ago, which he said were a part of my story—the words that connected us through the many years and numerous miles.
The words that brought me back to him.