by Kim Hornsby
Hours later, she slipped into a sleep shirt and was sitting on the bed when Noble walked through the patio door to the bedroom. “Ti?” He was still in his scanty costume from the show, a haku lei of ti leaves, a sarong hugging his hips.
“I had this feeling you needed me.”
His concern touched Tina’s heart. “I’m better. I’m a six and rising,” she lied.
He sat on the side of the bed and removed the lei around his head, tossing it to the dresser. “I’ve been thinking about you all night. Wondering how you are.” His gaze lingered where the flimsy cotton lay against her small breasts. “Want some company?”
“Okay.” She did want a friend, another body to share her first night of knowing the board had been recovered.
“Move over, Obi.” Noble said, sliding in beside her.
He hadn’t had a girlfriend since Hank’s death. She’d probably ruined his chances by needing him so much. Noble stretched the length of the bed on his side facing her. The familiarity of having him close was different tonight. For one thing, he was under the covers, something he rarely did.
Obi growled at her bed partner. “Obi, stop,” Tina said. Had the dog noticed Noble was under the covers? “I feel weird about them finding the board.”
“I do too.” He reached over and laid a hand on her arm.
Cool air breezed past her and she pulled the covers around her shoulders. Had she made the right decision to ask him to stay, after months of sleeping without him? “I’m sorry I’ve needed you so much this year, Noble.”
He moved his hand under the blanket. “S’alright, Ti. I needed you too.” He was so close that his warm breath moved strands of her hair. He shifted closer. The fabric of his sarong rubbed against her hip.
“You’re still wearing your costume.”
“I don’t wear much underneath this.”
She’d never noticed what he wore to bed before because she was always such a wreck, drugged on sleeping pills, crying, and he was on top of the covers, probably in a T-shirt and shorts. Tonight they weren’t waiting for Tina’s sleeping pill to take effect. She was suddenly disturbed at such physical closeness. Her face became hot, and her heart raced. She wanted to ask him to leave. But after all he’d done, she didn’t want to sound ungracious.
“Noble…I…” She shifted away from him. Something more than compassion flashed in his eyes. His intent was like a Polaroid picture developing in front of her. A look of sexuality had crept into his face and when his eyes drifted to her mouth, Tina found herself swallowing hard. “I think I misunderstood. Did you just want to talk?”
Noble stared at her. Still, the look.
“I think it would be a mistake, Noble. Wrong.”
He stroked her cheek lovingly. “I think it’s the only thing that’s right, Ti. But I don’t want to hurry you.” Noble was Hank’s best friend. She didn’t think of him sexually. What if it was the only thing that was right? What if her salvation was right in front of her and she’d been too distracted to see it? Tina freed her hand from under the covers and touched Noble’s lips. As her finger trailed the outline of his mouth, Noble closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“We’re not hurting anybody,” she said, needing reassurance.
“No one.” Noble leaned in and his soft lips were on hers. Just a feathery touch. “No, we’re not hurting anybody,” he said against her mouth. “Maybe even helping ourselves.”
She pulled back, took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. Noble. Her Noble. His warmth was familiar. His hand cupped one side of her face. This time Tina allowed the kiss, once, twice, then deeper.
“Is this okay?” His lips brushed lightly against hers.
“Hmmm.” It was.
He kissed her cheeks, nuzzled her neck and then back to her lips. Gently, he locked his upper leg over her hips and pressed himself into her, making it clear what he wanted.
Feeling his readiness, she was momentarily startled and pulled back. But Noble kissed her again, until she gave in to the need that had taken over her good sense.
It was such a welcome relief, this letting go that she surrendered completely. They kissed passionately. He tasted salty. When Obi jumped off the bed barking, the momentum of the moment ground to a halt. Good sense now had time to present its case.
What the hell was she doing?
This would change everything. There would be no going back. This was Noble, for God’s sake. Not Hank. Tina sat up in bed, pulling her oversized T-shirt down over her body. “No, wait, oh God…” She ran her hand through her hair. The dog across the street barked and Obi went to the window to part the curtain with his nose. Tina held her breath, waiting for something.
Then, “I can’t, Noble. I’m sorry.”
If disappointment set in, his words denied it. “I understand. It’s alright, Ti.”
Moments passed. The feeling was like cheating on a test.
Noble kissed her forehead and smiled at her lovingly. “I took advantage. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, my God, Noble. We almost ruined everything.” Tina fell back on the pillows, her hand going to cover her mouth. She waited for him to agree.
“I’ll leave if you’re all right now.” Grabbing his sarong from under the sheets, Noble slipped out of bed and swung the fabric around his hips.
She looked away but not before seeing his obvious erection. “Aside from embarrassment about almost, almost... I’m alright.” She gulped.
Noble nodded and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Tina jumped off the bed and locked the door. Not against Noble, she told herself, but in case she dreamed. The curtains rustled with the evening’s trade wind and an icy shiver domino’ed down her torso all the way to her toes. What the hell just happened, and why had she let it get that far with Noble?
Chapter 8
Jamey parked himself in Pops’ deck lounger with an ice-cold beer and stared out at the lavender pink sunset. Soon the beach would be dark below. It was his favorite time of day to walk along the surf line. Good thinking time. And he had a lot to think about. For one thing, he needed to decide what he would do if he couldn’t dream jump anymore. Back in Kandahar they’d asked him to lay off any jumping while on leave, but that was a ridiculous suggestion. He needed to know if he was done with it forever and the only way to know that was to jump.
The day he left for Ramstein in Germany, his superior officer, Sergeant Milton, had taken him to the plane. “Take a break, Private.” He put the jeep in park. “And no dream jumping.”
Jamey had nodded, not sure if he’d comply, and grabbed his duffel out of the back. He boarded the plane with the two burly bodyguards who would accompany him from Afghanistan to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, then on to America. Once on U.S. soil, the guards would return to Sixth Force in Afghanistan.
Known only as ‘Freud’ in Sixth Force, Jamey took every precaution imaginable to ensure he wasn’t followed or recognized after he left Kandahar. His long, shaggy hair came off before the plane ride to Germany, along with all facial hair and the fake glasses. Luckily he’d never gotten a tattoo and had no easily identifiable marks on his body. Not that anyone else could see. Several days and many flights later, under several names and passports, he finally made it home to Seattle.
The last jump for the army had almost done him in. He almost bit the dust. He’d been revived and rushed to the base hospital when his heart stopped. That was bad enough but, not only had he been seen by the dreamer, but the army killed the man because of the slip. Freud vehemently protested the extermination of the enemy soldier. “You’re nothing but murderers!” he’d shouted at his superior officers. “You didn’t need to do that. He was just a kid. You’re fucking, God-damned killers.”
“Private, we understand you’re upset, but he had an allergic reaction to our drugs, something we couldn’t have predicted. He woke up early, saw you, and our protocol in a situation like this...” “There is no protocol for something like this! I’m the only fucking dream jumper, and if I
’m willing to risk it...” After that, he’d spent hours in the psychiatrist’s chair, trying to justify what happened, figuring out his part in the thing. Trouble was, the dreamer died and all contact with him was lost—unless you counted Jamey’s recurring dream that he sliced the young man’s head off with a sword. That doozy came every night for a month, and then tapered off to every so often.
Sixth Force gave Freud three months’ leave, knowing he might be finished jumping forever. All attempts to jump before he left Afghanistan had been met with failure, as though he’d never be able to slip into dreams again.
“Get your skills back,” they’d said, like it was as easy as that. Jamey didn’t know if he was done forever but was glad for some time off, time away from the desert of Afghanistan, the constant worry of being shot or bombed, the army food, the boredom. He hadn’t been home in almost ten months, and his arms were aching to hold his daughters.
With the physical transformation complete, Jamey took commercial flights from Atlanta to Chicago to Dallas, where he ran to make a flight to Mexico City. Then he headed north to Houston, and then Seattle. He’d changed disguises and passports five times, holed up in an airport hotel, snuck out, and when he was sure he wasn’t being followed, he called Pops and asked him to meet him at SeaTac Airport. When they connected on the curb outside baggage claim he thought his father would never let go. “I missed you, Jamey.” The tears in his father’s eyes had him feeling guilty for how he spent his life these days.
“Let’s go home, Pops.”
They jumped in the truck and drove north to Seattle and then east to his hometown of Carnation. Forty minutes later, Jamey was comparing the mountains beyond Kandahar with the Cascade Mountain Range. They crossed the Tolt River and on to Pops’ house. This was farming country—the epitome of small-town rural life. Jamey couldn’t wait to sleep in his old bed again.
Pops’ place, a ramshackle two-story structure, sat at the end of a long lane overlooking the river. As they bumped down the driveway, Jamey laughed. “Some things never change.”
Pops chuckled with him. “Saved these potholes for you to plug in the next few weeks. Didn’t want you getting all squishy on leave.”
After dropping his duffel at the front door, Jamey glanced at photos on the hall table—he and his brothers fishing the Tolt; helping Uncle Don bring in the hay one year; Jamey and his baby sister, Jenny, at the father/daughter Valentine’s dance the year Pops had the flu. Far enough from the big city, Carnation was a perfect place to spread teenage wings—especially if you were a little wild, with a big wingspan. And, didn’t have a mother.
One night the twins stayed overnight with him at their grandfather’s house. Jamey sat on the side of Jade’s bed, scratching her little nine-year-old back. She fought to stay awake, talking in slurrish half-sentences to her dad. When her dream journey began, he considered jumping in. Over the years he’d shared countless dreams with his daughters. If he was going to try jumping again, an innocent child wouldn’t hold much risk. Hoping to avoid the life altering headache that had left him hooked up to drug drips and machinery, this seemed like a perfect opportunity. He matched Jade’s breathing, took her little hand in his and attempted to slide into another dimension.
Nothing happened. He tried again with no result. Frustrated, he moved to Jasmine’s bed and waited until she fell into a dream. Still, the ability eluded him. Knowing he might never again be able to share a dream with someone, the emptiness of it made him feel both relieved and wistful and he went downstairs to join Pops for a game of euchre.
After two weeks of playing Barbie dolls, kicking soccer balls, and hanging around both Carrie’s and Pops’ houses, Maui called to him. When Pop’s condo had a cancellation, it seemed like a sign and Jamey bought a ticket.
“I’ll be home for your birthday in a few weeks,” he promised the girls. “And I’ll bring you a special surprise.” “A dolphin!” Jade said.
“Or a whale!” Jasmine giggled.
“How about a shark?” he teased, tickling them.
Turned out Maui was quiet enough for his thoughts to drive him ten types of crazy. The notion that he messed with lives by dream jumping into another dimension haunted him. The dream of him cutting off the young soldier’s head resurfaced. Among others. Once again, jumping dreams played with his sense of decency and left him waking in a cold sweat. He tried to stop over-thinking. He was on Maui to exhale, not hold his breath.
A week after he arrived on the island, he awoke disturbed by a different type of dream. This one was lovely and emotionally draining in a very good way. He and Tina were slow dancing on a white dance floor that extended infinitely. The depth of feelings he had for her was immeasurable, almost intolerable, like nothing Jamey had ever experienced in real life.
Then they were diving, about seventy feet down. His emotions were foreign, like they didn’t belong to him. Whoever they belonged to had a big secret. Whose mind was this? It was not completely unheard of for a psychic to feel someone’s emotions, but it was still unnerving with this degree of intensity. If Tina knew the secret this man harbored, she’d be heartbroken. His first thought was Hank. A feeling of validation settled over him, proving he was correct. Tina’s presence in Hank’s life was the best thing that ever happened to him. His wall of resolve had to hold up to protect the woman he loved. Guarding the secret was the most important thing in Hank’s life, even if it meant betraying Tina. But what the hell was Hank’s secret?
Kicking through schools of fish, they continued through the coral gardens. Tina smiled at him and Jamey smiled back. When he looked down, he didn’t recognize his hand—elegant fingers, a wedding ring, and differently shaped nails. Tina was his savior, rescuing his soul from the black pit where he’d been headed. Where Hank had been headed. Maybe now his life would be salvageable, have meaning beyond his years of regrets. He didn’t deserve her.
But still, he vowed to spend the rest of his life making up for that fact. The rest of Hank’s life, not Jamey’s.
Tina turned and waved at him, beckoning him around a corner with a curve of her finger. In two kicks, she disappeared from sight. Jamey rounded the edge of the rock and saw her standing on the sandy ocean floor. But instead of the expected smile, she was horrified to see him. He stopped and descended to a standing position but didn’t reach the bottom when he should have. Jamey looked down to see that he had no feet, no legs. What the fuck? Was he invisible?
Tina backed up against the rock. He tried to reach down but found he had no arms. He bumped on the sandy bottom and, twisting his torso, was able to ascend a few feet. Tina’s eyes were big and frightened. A quick look assured Jamey there was no blood in the water, but when he caught a shadow of something behind him, he turned to see a tail. A large gray shark tail twisted with him.
He’d become a shark.
When he glanced back, Tina was gone. Not above him, not ahead of him. Jamey did a full circle and saw nothing but his own tail.
He called out to her, but when he opened his eyes, he was in the queen-size bed in Pops’ condo with only the final trace of a moan in the room. Reaching for his watch on the bedside table, he noticed it was just after three a.m., still worth trying to get back to sleep. He lay back with his hands behind his head, thankful to have hands. In the dream he’d had such depth of feeling for Tina. Shit. Thinking about her led to memories, which led to a hard-on. His feelings for Tina would have to stay buried if he was going to spend the morning with her on a small dive boat.
Jamey lay in bed listening to the surf break on the rocks below at Ironwood Beach and wondered if the dream had an actual connection to Hank’s psyche, or if he’d simply made up the dream.
At seven a.m., Lahaina Town was just waking up. The streets were still clear of traffic, and as Jamey pulled into a prime parking spot on Dickenson Street, he felt lucky to be alive; especially after all he’d been through in Afghanistan. This life was a gift, and he was going to enjoy the day like no other, to love life as deeply as Han
k had loved Tina in the dream.
“Good morning, First Mate.” Tina called, loading scuba tanks into the truck.
“Here, let me help you.” Jamey set down his coffee cup and grabbed two aluminum cylinders. Then two more. “I’ll never understand how that little body of yours can sling these heavy tanks.”
“Are you still underestimating me?” Tina smirked.
“Only when loading tanks, sweetheart.” She blushed at that one and he chuckled under his breath.
By the time they hooked up the boat’s trailer to the truck, Jamey was sweating. It would feel good to get in the ocean. Today was a wreck dive on the south coast and he was looking forward to diving on a sunken wreck.
As they closed the back end of the truck, Tina brushed up against him accidentally, and with that physical contact, Jamey got something from her. He sensed she was excited by a romantic relationship in her life. Excited and confused. It wasn’t an unreasonable idea, Tina having feelings for someone, but it threw him off his game, especially after his emotional dream about her. He had no right to feel jealousy. He’d have to work on getting rid of the leftover emotion he harbored for Tina. It wasn’t his to claim. The morning’s dive was his first priority and he had to focus on helping her. After all, he’d been diving free of charge and he owed her one.
Pulling away from the boat ramp, the Maui Dream raced south along the coast of Kihei, a town known for its calm beaches below the lava fields from Haleakala’s last eruption. Breaking through the clear morning air, they zipped across the water to their destination— a sunken World War II tank and landing craft. The group was made of five return customers. The year before, they’d gone out on the boat with both Hank and Tina. “He was such a great guy,” they whispered, when Tina wasn’t listening. Jamey had nodded, like he knew him well and agreed.