Rising Tides

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  “Perfect timing,” Tyler said, standing. Although he’d been sitting behind the wheel, the engine was off. “The anchor’s set, and we’ve just been granted front row seats to a perfect sunset.” He pointed to the half-sunk ball of gold that streaked blinding light across the water. “How was your nap?”

  “Great,” I said, moving toward him. He reached out and pulled me down on his lap.

  “Are you still feeling seasick?” He rested his head on my back and wrapped his arms around me.

  “No.”

  “Good.” He held out a couple of pills for me and a glass of water that he’d been drinking. “Time for your medicine.”

  I took both and slid the pills in my mouth, washing them down with water. I sought out his hands and gripped his fingers tightly, never wanting to let them go again.

  “Kelly?” Tyler said, stiffening at my desperate touch. “What’s wrong?”

  I stared at the blinding sunset even though my eyes started to water and the colors had shifted into a heated white that erased everything else. “Don’t ask. Just hold on to me.”

  He laid his head against my back. “I can hear your heart.” His arms tightened around me. “I think it’s calling my name.”

  The sun dipped lower. “It always has, my love. It always will.”

  Our two bodies were so close we might as well have been one single mass, and in that unity, I felt the pain Tyler tried to conceal. It came out as a gentle trembling in his touch, and I knew, even with an absence of sound, he was crying. I had never doubted he would, just as I knew Gary couldn’t.

  “The sky looks like sherbet ice cream,” I said, pointing at the heavens. “Orange and raspberry. Those were my favorite flavors.”

  “Are you hungry?” Tyler asked in a soft, thick voice that tears had tempered.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “Starving.” I started to get up and found Tyler’s hands now clutched me more desperately. “And we both know I can’t cook,” I babbled, trying to halt the awful breaking of both our hearts. “So I guess it’s up to you to fix something edible.”

  He released me slowly, easing his grip finger by finger. “I can do that.”

  “I know you can. There’s nothing you can’t do.” I stood and stepped down from the shaded helm to the open deck.

  He averted his eyes as he walked to the stairs and paused only long enough to say, “No, you’re wrong about that. I can’t seem to let you go.” He slowly looked up from the deck and frowned at me with hooded eyes that appeared bewildered and frightened. His fingers gripped the doorway, and he leaned against it as though it supported him. Then he took a deep breath and started downstairs to fix our dinner.

  For the next few minutes, I sat in a chair on the deck and watched the sun’s descent until the golden light had disappeared altogether and evening spread like dark gossamer across the waters that gently rocked the boat as a mother rocks a cradle. The only light breaking the blackness was the glow of the full moon dancing off the ocean. A million stars peeked through the cloudless coal sky.

  The air, once warm, had grown chilly, and I shivered while wrapping my arms around my chest. Another pair of arms quickly overlapped mine. “Dinner’s ready, sweetheart. Do you want to eat up here or down below?”

  Trembling, I replied, “Below, I think. It’s kind of gotten cool.”

  “Yeah, you are cold.” He ran his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm them. “You’ve got goose bumps all over you and you’re shaking like a sapling in a storm.”

  “That feels good,” I said, enjoying his caress. “Nice and warm.”

  “Let’s get you below, where there’s some food to fill that starving stomach of yours.” He gently latched onto my arms and helped me up from the chair, leading me toward the stairs. As we walked, he flipped on a light that broke the darkness.

  I went below first and found the room filled with glowing candles spread throughout the cabin. The air smelled of the steaks he’d cooked, and I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “Another perfect meal,” I said as he led me to the small table he’d set.

  “How do you know? You haven’t even tasted it.” He released my hand as I sat and unfolded my napkin. He filled our glasses.

  “I don’t have to. Everything you do is perfect.”

  His hand wavered, and he stopped pouring for a moment until he could fill the glass without spilling. “That’s because loving you is so damned easy.” He set the pitcher back on the table. “And sometimes so damned hard.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After dinner Tyler and I sat on the deck, staring up at a star-speckled sky. He leaned back in the chair, and I lay my head in his lap with my hands curled underneath. As I rested there, he absently caressed my hair, twirling it in his fingertips as he peered upward. I nestled in the warmth of his leather bomber jacket, and Tyler, as usual, wore only a t-shirt and claimed to be immune to the cold.

  “What were you like before you started sailing?”

  Tyler laughed loudly. “Boring with a capital B. I thought the world revolved around April 15—the curse of being an accountant.” He raked his fingers through his hair, brushing thick strands away from his face. “I really don’t miss my wonderful accounting days, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah, I used to think my whole life revolved around my career, being a secretary. I never had time to look at stars or sunsets or beaches before the cancer.”

  Tyler clenched his eyes shut, and his breathing slowed. “Kelly,” he started to interrupt, but I set my fingers against his mouth.

  “It’s all right to talk about this, Tyler.” I smiled gently at his unsure face, trying to help him smile, too. “Maybe in some crazy way I’m lucky.”

  “Lucky?” he asked, looking at the sky.

  “Because I never knew I was alive until I had to think about what constitutes a life. I got a wake-up call with enough time to figure out what was important—and then I met you.” My voice sounded raspy, and I was breathing fast, trying to get enough air.

  “You’re breathing kind of hard, aren’t you, Kelly?”

  I took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. “Yeah. It’s getting harder, I guess.” I tried to even the short gasps out, but it didn’t help. Tyler slowly lowered his gaze from the sky to settle on my face. “Anything I can do, sweetheart?” His fingers stilled as though waiting for a task.

  I rubbed my cheek against his hand. “Yeah,” I said between breaths. “Don’t move. You make a good pillow.”

  Tyler’s concerned frown melted into a small grin. “It’s always nice to know I’m good for something.”

  A falling star streaked across the midnight sky, and I pointed to it. “Look at that. Make a wish.” Tyler kept staring at me, and the smile slowly disappeared. His finger traced my cheekbone. “You should’ve made a wish.”

  “I did.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “And you?”

  I nodded and looked at the place where I’d seen the star slide across the sky and disappear. “Yeah, but mine won’t ever come true.”

  His fingers brushed my forehead, pushing the hair away. “That’s optimistic, Kelly.”

  “No, just truthful,” I stated in a matter-fact tone. “I wished I’d had kids, a strange thing to wish for since I’ve never been crazy about them.” I laughed nervously. “It’s just that, always before, it seemed more important to be financially settled before starting a family, and then it seemed more important to have a career.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “And then living got important and it was too late. Maybe it’s selfish to want to have another person who’s part of you that you helped create. The funny thing is, I really think I could have taught my daughter something useful, not something like ‘Don’t wear your good shoes to play outside.’”

  “It’s not selfish, Kelly. You would’ve made a great mother.” Tyler squeezed my hand. “So maybe getting dirty in good clothes isn’t an important lesson. What would you have taught her?”

  “That love does exist.” My voice sounded weak, and
I had to breathe faster, just trying to get enough air. I winced from the sheer fatigue of trying to breathe enough. “It doesn’t come when you expect it or even why, but it will come. Like you came for me.” Tyler smiled, and in the moonlight I could see the tears pooling in his eyes. “So what did you wish for?”

  “That someday we’ll be together again.” He blinked, and two of his tears spilled from his eyes to my cheeks, kissing them softly. “I guess that’s not really a wish but a promise.”

  “A promise,” I repeated, feeling Tyler’s tears streak down my face, mingling with my own. “We found each other in this life. We’ll find each other in the next one, too—no matter where it may be or how long it takes. I’ll find you, I promise.”

  The two of us eased into silence while staring into each other’s eyes, and the ocean gently lapped at the boat, lulling us closer together. A soft splash broke the stillness, and Tyler quickly peered across the water.

  “Quick, sit up!” he whispered, pulling me upright. “A dolphin.”

  I sat next to him and looked out to where he pointed. Seconds later, a lone dolphin arched into the air and quickly dove. It repeated the movement several times, and I watched the darkness glisten off its shiny skin. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, watching rings ripple in the water and fan out from the spot where the dolphin had plunged in.

  “It’s magic,” Tyler said, wrapping his arm around me. I huddled closer, laying my head back on his chest. Together we watched the dolphin until it had stopped diving and the water again grew still amid moonlight and stardust.

  For a few moments, we waited in silence, watching for just one more dive, but the ocean gently rippled in serenity and isolation. My whole body ached with longing to see him rise again, and as I sat, my shoulders tensed with impatience, seconds melted away with only the sound of the ocean gently lapping at the boat. Finally, I allowed my shoulders to slump.

  “He’s gone,” I said, drawing closer to Tyler, squeezing my arms tighter around him. The disappearance of the dolphin had left a sudden vacancy that only Tyler could fill, so I held onto him, feeling the solid warmth of his arms and chest driving the isolation back.

  “Yeah,” Tyler agreed, peering vacantly at the calm water where we’d last seen the dolphin. “But we were lucky to see him at all. Some people never get that close.”

  I closed my eyes and savored the feel of his body close to mine, the way the heat of his skin warmed me. “They don’t know what they’re missing, do they?”

  Tyler kissed the top of my head. “They don’t have a clue, sweetheart. They’re still living in a world of philistines and bean-counters.” He slid his arms under me and picked me up carefully as he stood. Although carrying me must have been difficult at best, considering the movement of the boat and closed-in area, Tyler managed.

  “Tyler,” I protested weakly. “Put me down.”

  “Nope. Not until I get you to bed.”

  I rested my head against his chest, feeling the strength corded throughout his body as he carried me like a weightless doll. “I knew you had an ulterior motive.”

  He laughed and kissed my forehead. “Yeah, and it looks like you’re really protesting, Kelly. Nice try.” A few steps later, and we’d slipped into the darkness below and laid amid the satin comfort of night as it spilled onto the bed. Tyler hovered above me. His fingers felt like lace falling across my skin as he softly removed my garments one by one and then his own.

  “I’d never believed in the lure of the tide until I met you. I had friends who used to say making love on the beach was the best,” he said, his voice warm and deep. “But you are the tide. You are my tide.”

  We made love then, our bodies not bound by skin but only the urgency of time remaining, and when our bodies had spent themselves, we shrugged them away, and held fast to each other’s souls. Tyler’s arms encircled my body, and I lay my head upon his chest, dwelling in the soft, constant beat of his strong heart. Although a blanket swathed our bodies, I felt the heat mostly radiating from him, warming my body just as his love had warmed my soul. We slept cradled in moonless oblivion where the cancer had never been and could never intrude.

  * * *

  Rough water rocking the boat woke me with its savage sway. Disoriented, I gripped the mattress with one hand and reached for Tyler with the other. My fingers groped with the sheets and pillow where he had laid earlier. My stomach rolled with each wave, and I felt overwhelmed by nausea. Drops of sweat beaded on my forehead, and yet I felt chilled at the same time.

  Every breath was getting more difficult, and right now I felt so weak. A doctor, I thought, trying to focus despite the fog shrouding my brain. I need a doctor.

  “Tyler?” I spoke to the emptiness and found no answer. Despite the fevered pitching of the cabin from side to side, I forced myself to my feet and managed to get to the stairs. Gripping the rail, I pulled myself up, gasping. My free hand touched my chest as though that gentle pressure might help the air inside my lungs move about more freely. Everything dwindled to blurriness as I stumbled onto the deck.

  “Kelly?” Tyler asked sharply. Seconds later, I felt his hands support me. “Jesus, Kelly, what’s wrong?” He spoke loudly over the savage wind stirring around us.

  “I need a doctor,” I said, leaning against him. I blinked several times, trying to adjust my vision. My fingers clutched his shirt, desperately hanging on, trying to fight the disorientation. I trembled and pulled closer to him as one of his arms wrapped around me. His skin smelled of salt and pine, and I closed my eyes, seizing that scent.

  “A storm is coming. What’s wrong?” His fingers touched my head, gently probing. “Where does it hurt?”

  “I can’t breathe,” I said between short gasps of air. I touched his face. “I can’t see right, either.”

  “Just hang on, Kelly.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I’ll get you to a doctor as quickly as I can, but first we have to get through this damned storm. You need to go below and wait until we pass through it. It’s going to be rough for a little while.”

  “Stay with me,” I pleaded. His face appeared a large blur, but inside I saw each of his features with perfect clarity. My heart had memorized his face.

  “I can’t.” His thumb touched my chin. “I’m going to guide the boat into the storm to get us out of it more quickly, then we’ll get you to a hospital.” He slid my arm around his neck and supported me down the stairs until we’d reached the bed. He set me upon it.

  “Stay down here.” He kissed my forehead, and droplets of ocean water dripped off his hair, landing on my cheeks. “I’m going back up.” “Tyler,” I said, rolling into a ball.

  “Yeah, angel.”

  “I’m scared.” I didn’t tell him whether I feared the ocean or dying, but I think he knew the truth. I’d been dying for a while. My body was ready to get it over with, and yet I felt too close to Tyler to leave, no matter how much pain assaulted me.

  “There’s nothing to be scared about,” he whispered, encircling my hand with his. “Not now. You’ve got an expert sailor here.”

  I closed my eyes and focused on breathing, trying to forget the savage rocking. “So expert us out of here.” My voice thickened with panic.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Anything for you.” His fingers slowly withdrew from mine.

  “Be careful,” I called.

  “Always.”

  I listened to his shoes thump lightly as he ascended the steps, and felt the boat lurch forward. Seconds later, hard pellets of rain peppered the boat, and thunder rumbled coarsely above.

  Dear God, please don’t let there be lightning, I thought, imagining Tyler sitting behind the helm, driving us to the heart of this madness. The boat began to rock more and more savagely, and I gripped the bed, achoring myself to it. With each passing second my body trembled more and I started to cry. My body suddenly felt so inadequate without Tyler; he had become my strength.

  The boat lurched to one side and I thought
we would tip. Panicked, I screamed, “Tyler.” My voice sounded small against the raging winds above. I called again.

  No answer. Please let him be all right. Please don’t take him away from me. I’m nothing without him.

  The jarring motion of the water seemed to last forever, and as much as I tried to block it out, the angry rolls of thunder ripped through any shred of composure I’d once owned. Fear. I closed my eyes and tried to understand it, the hows, the whys, the whens. I knew the fear wasn’t for me so why did I feel it?

  Tyler.

  I closed my eyes and rolled into a tighter ball. I was afraid for him. The sadness exploded within me, and for once I allowed the pain freedom from where I’d kept them. The storm inside raged as the boat rocked precariously, and I held onto the mattress tightly, waiting. He would return. He would come down those stairs and hold out his arms so I could lose myself in the only place I’d ever truly belonged.

  My vision gradually cleared, and the blurred shapes shifted back into the furniture around the room. Moments later, I heard gentle footfalls thumping down the stairs. I peered toward them, feeling the frantic beat of my heart as I saw him. His wet t-shirt was plastered to his chest, and his soaked hair appeared much darer. The silver watch he wore glittered in the bare light streaming from above. His hands that had at first dangled uselessly at his side, quickly rose and reached for me as he crossed the room. Tyler lay on the bed and folded me into his arms next to his chest. I heard his heart beating in time with the wild storm we’d just left behind, and I started to sob, pushing myself closer to him.

  One of his hands brushed the hair away from my forehead. “Shh, Kelly.”

  I clutched him and sobbed. “Why didn’t you answer when I called?”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you. The worst of the storm is behind us. Everything is going to be fine.” He ran his fingers up and down my arms. “You’re shaking. Kelly.”

  “I was afraid something had happened to you.” My voice trembled just as badly as my body.

  “Nothing but a little rain and wind. I just came to check on you and see how you were doing.”