What if it didn’t work? What if I was stuck forever in this in-between state of not merely human but not able to claim my true nature either?
I threw my cover-up onto one of the vacant chairs, and Noah lifted a hand to the guy manning the canopy that rented out the chairs and water toys. He was the only person on the beach—an audience of one too many.
“Don’t worry, that’s just Daniel. And honestly he’s probably too stoned to pay us any attention.”
Daniel was sprawled out in his chair, his light brown hair tucked behind his ears. He had earphones in and moved his head in time to a silent beat.
It was always the eyes that gave them away. Daniel’s were amber colored. I wondered if people noticed, people not like us. Or maybe we were only able to recognize each other.
“Part of the tribe?” I would never fit in with these guys. They were all prettier than me. I was almost scared to see what the girls looked like.
“Yeah. His family pretty much runs the beach services from P.C. to Destin. Bike rental shops. You name it, they rent it.” Noah took my hand, wrapping it firmly in his fingers. He led me to the shoreline where the water lapped over the sand in tiny licks. It was warm on my toes and walking into it felt like slipping on a fitted, buttery-soft body glove. I never wanted to take it off.
We waded out past a trough and stood on a sand bar. Small silver fish no bigger than my hand darted around my feet, which were now perfectly stuck by invisible hands shackling me to the sandy bottom. The water wasn’t deep. If I sat down, my head would still be above the surface. I felt safe enough. Safe enough to ask for a demonstration. I needed to know what he was out here, what I was supposed to be. I needed to see it with my own eyes in the clear light of day.
“All right. Show me what you can do Dolphin Boy,” I teased. I had seen Noah in a pool, watched him rise from the surf in the dark of night, but never in the broad light of day in the open water.
His cheek creased with a sly lopsided grin. “You’ll be okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I pointed to the anchors of my feet.
He sank until the water covered his head, green eyes peering at me. He waved and I laughed as he started moving, a slow undulation of lean torso and long legs. He might not have a tail, but his lower body moved like one, a ripple of raw power that sped him faster and faster. The water was so clear I could follow his movements. It was like watching the train on a rollercoaster, the cuts and turns so smooth and quick. At one point he torpedoed straight outward through the endless Deep, so fast I lost sight of him. My eyes searched the flat line of the horizon where gray clouds met the shiny pewter surface of the Gulf. If I hadn’t been looking for him, I would have missed him. He jumped in the distance in a series of arcs, each one higher than the last. I sucked in an awed breath and before I let it out he surfaced in front of me, green eyes sparkling with excitement, hair plastered around his face and shoulders. I was breathing harder than he was. I doubted I would ever be able to move like that. Oh, but I wanted to.
“So you’re more like an otter,” I said, prompting a full-throated laugh and if his voice held magic, then his laugh was like drinking pure sunshine. I could hardly tell him what I really thought. That all I saw was a beautiful, mythical creature, and I was totally mesmerized by him. And I wanted him to see me the same way. Not what I was now—broken. Ellie and I had that in common. Somehow Noah had taken it upon himself to fix us. I hoped he could.
“I’ve got to ask though.” I desperately wanted to break the spell he cast over me just by being here, just by laughing and smiling at me with those eyes. “How do you breathe?”
“The same way you’re going to.” He turned his head, presenting me with the left side of his face. He gathered his hair in his hand and tilted his chin forward at an angle. “See them, behind my ear?”
At first I saw nothing, then my eyes focused on a crescent-shaped patch of pale skin that hugged the ridge of his ear—three rows of skin, pale pink and so fine it was almost translucent. It looked suspiciously like gills.
I sucked in a breath and held it there. “I don’t have those.”
He dropped his hair and turned mischievous eyes on me. “Yeah, I suspect you do.” He reached for me and gathered my hair at the back of my neck. Leaning close, he blew a warm breath behind my ear. A shiver stole over my neck and ran all the way down my spine to my toes. “You feel that?”
For a moment I wasn’t capable of responding. “Yes.”
His fingers found mine and guided them to my ear. “Careful,” he said. “They can be sensitive. And they tear easily.”
“Oh, God.” I traced the layers of skin with the tip of my finger. “Where have these babies been all my life?”
“That stint in the water went a long way in weakening the charm. The more you’re exposed, the weaker it gets.”
Our fingers laced and he pulled me deeper into the water until I could no longer touch the bottom and his hands slipped up, gripping my arms.
“This might be kind of unnerving. You’re going to have to trust me. Can you do that?”
“I guess so.” I tried to ignore the pull of the bottom, encouraged that it didn’t feel as strong as it had two days ago.
“No, Caris, this is important. It will feel like you’re drowning, and it’ll be easy to panic. Can you trust me?”
“Yes,” I said with more conviction. At this point Noah was the only person I did trust.
“Good. I need you to concentrate on not breathing. We want your gills to do the work. The first few times the transition can be hard, maybe even painful. If I think it’s not going to work, I’ll bring you back out.”
“Yeah. I got it.” I refused to acknowledge this might not work, that I might not work.
“When you’re ready I’m going to let you go. I’ll be right beside you.”
“I’m ready.”
His fingers loosened and he sank with me, hair floating in silky strands around his head. It wasn’t that deep, maybe eight feet. It may as well have been eight miles. I thought that maybe he made it sound bad on purpose, until my lungs started to burn. After another minute, bright spots danced in front of my eyes. My finger pointed upward. Noah shook his head and that fast panic gripped me. He didn’t understand. He could breathe down here. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even get myself out when I needed to. The bright spots turned dark. The top of my head tingled. I was on the verge of passing out. A giant fist squeezed my heart. I grabbed Noah’s arm, nails biting into his skin. His face loomed close to mine. My whole body started to fight, and I thrashed about, trying to pull Noah’s arms upward. My mind screamed, Get me out. One thrust of Noah’s powerful legs had us shooting for the surface.
“Caris, look at me.” Noah’s voice penetrated the haze of fear. I sucked in air, trying my best not to cry. “Caris, you’re okay. Look at me.”
My eyes focused on his face. “I’m sorry. I panicked.”
“It’s all right. It happens.” He was being so sweet and patient and understanding. I stared at the pearl nestled at the base of his throat, using it as my focal point. My hands gripped the tops of his shoulders as the water lapped around our chests. I thought I could feel it, the pores of my skin giving in to the water, soaking it up. My skin wanted the fuel the water provided; it craved the oxygen.
“It’ll be better this time, now that I know what to expect.” When I lifted my hands from his shoulders, he let go. I sank like a penny dropped in a wishing well. And I wished. This time when Noah took my hand, I gripped his fingers hard, but other than that, I tried to keep perfectly still. I focused on the membranes behind my ears. My body thrummed in response to the water as though I could feel the oxygen filling my blood. My vision dimmed. My hand gripped his tighter.
Just when all was about to go completely dark, Noah pressed his mouth against mine. My mouth opened under the pressure of his lips as he pushed air into my lungs. It was just enough. When he pulled away our eyes locked. He stayed close. Letting go of my hand, h
e cupped my face with both hands. Each time I was about to lose consciousness, the feel of his mouth anchored me as he breathed for me again and again.
Endless minutes passed, and I thought maybe it wasn’t going to work when I felt the slightest tingle behind my ears. I could feel it now, the ease in my blood as oxygen flowed. The membranes of my gills fluttered, tickling the backs of my ears. I nodded, giving Noah a thumbs-up. He smiled at me. I welcomed the feel of his arms around my waist and held on as we surged to the surface.
I laughed, the relief making me giddy. Air flowed freely through my mouth and I felt the gills relax under the weight of my wet hair.
“Again.” Before Noah had a chance to respond, I placed my hands against his chest and pushed away, letting myself fall. He only had to breathe for me twice before I felt my gills engage. If my feet would move, I would have done a happy dance. I settled for a rock concert fist pump instead. I no longer had to be afraid. Part of my born-to-be self worked.
After another try, Noah didn’t have to breathe for me at all. My gills responded immediately and my lips felt the loss. But Noah was proud of me, I could see it in his eyes, and in the grin that wouldn’t leave his face. I savored the feel of his arms around me as he took us up for the last time.
I was exhausted by the time we got to the beach and collapsed under a clearing sky. We lay there until the sun dried our skin, neither saying a word. Finally, I turned my head to find Noah looking at me.
“I have gills,” I said stupidly. “And I can breathe water.”
Finally, something was right.
* * *
My cheeseburger sat on my plate, a half-eaten sloppy mess smeared in mustard and ketchup and wilted lettuce. A fly crawled across the bun and I swatted it away. He could have it, for all I cared. It smelled funny, like my old Nikes I never wore socks with and tasted even worse. I dipped a French fry in my ketchup, eyeing the California roll clutched between Noah’s chopsticks.
“You want some?” He dangled the bite under my nose and I got a whiff of salty fish. “Go ahead. You’re gonna like it,” he assured me with an all too knowing smile.
I chewed slowly, waiting for my gag reflex to kick in, which it didn’t. I swallowed and opened my mouth again like a baby bird. After another bite, I sat back in my chair and mourned the loss of my favorite food.
“So does this complete my transformation to the dark side?” The fan beat overhead and I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. My fingertips grazed the sensitive skin, prompting a shiver at the memory of Noah’s warm breath.
“Not hardly,” he said. “But you did good today. At least now you won’t drown.”
“You have any idea why I’m still playing the role of the Titanic?”
He shrugged, drumming his chopsticks on the edge of the table. Rat-a-tat. The nonchalance was just a ruse. It bothered him, the not knowing. It bothered me too. What good was a waterbreather that couldn’t swim?
“No.” He leaned toward me, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.
A wave of hair fell over his shoulder as the weight of his eyes settled on my face. I could swim there, in the depths of his eyes, lured by the song in his voice, and I found it was a different kind of drowning I was in danger of now.
“Maybe like everything else it’ll come with time.”
My heart tripped over itself. I remembered the pressure of his mouth, the almost taste of his tongue. Solid muscle and smooth skin as he cradled me in the water. I reached for my glass to ease my dry throat and to hide the feelings that poured off me like a sheen of perspiration. I’d made one baby step and I was already capitulating on my resolve to be just friends. Noah didn’t feel like a complication. I kind of just wanted him for myself.
“Caris.” My name sounded like a reprimand coming off his lips. His eyes cut away from me and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “About today…”
I knew what he was about to say and I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear him say I was nothing to him but a depressed, broken soul. That he’s only here because I’d forced him to be with a stupid siren song that seemed pointless. I had equated it in the realm of our species to having an appendix or wisdom teeth. Some arbitrary trait that evolution deemed we no longer needed. Just like Ellie, once I could fend for myself, he’d let me go.
“How often do you cut your hair?” I blurted as a way to distract him from utterly breaking my heart. And I really wanted to hate him for having the power to do it. His eyes searched mine and turned all soft and sympathetic, making me feel like I had back in the seventh grade when I had a crush on my biology teacher, Mr. Whitten. He’d had long hair too.
“Once a week.” He relaxed against his chair. Rat-a-tat. The chopsticks flew with the flick of his wrists. The waiter came and took our plates. He refilled my tea and I heard myself offer a distant “thank you.”
“Do you keep it long to hide your… gills?” It sounded too surreal, talking of something so extraordinary over a table littered with discarded napkins smeared with ketchup and dribbles of soy sauce.
“I like it.” He took a long swig of water, then set his empty glass back on the table. “My brother kept his short. He had to cut it about every other day and it just seemed like too much trouble.” His eyes took on a guarded, far-away look. Cling-da-ping. He drummed on the rim of his glass.
Noah’s eyes shifted as something behind me grabbed his attention, and just like that, he was focused, and it was as though his eyes were cut from emeralds. The chopsticks clattered on the table. Voices exchanged words behind me, one I thought I recognized. I fought the urge to turn around to see what had caused the sudden change, the stiffening of his posture, his muscles coiled and tense.
“Excuse me.” The voices moved closer before a man stepped up to our table. He stood average in height, and ordinary in cargo shorts and a dark t-shirt.
“You must be Caris.” He extended his hand. His hair was flecked with gray and cropped short, military style, making his eyes the most prominent feature in his face. I wanted to say they were pretty, but that’s the kind of word used to describe a sunset or a painting.
Scary maybe. Definitely crazy.
“I’m Marshall Shaw.”
I stared blankly, trying to register the name. Before I could take his hand he added, “Erin’s father.”
“Oh.” I cut a quick glance at Noah. He was coiled so tight he could have been snake waiting to strike. And if looks could kill, Mr. Shaw would have been lying face down on the floor, possibly in tiny pieces. “Nice to meet you.” I considered grabbing the chopsticks and hiding them.
Noah’s chair scraped across the floor. He dug in his back pocket for his wallet, tossing a couple of twenties on the table. “Let’s go.”
“Noah, son…”
My hand slid through Mr. Shaw’s fingers, forgotten. He stepped forward, offering the same hand to Noah. Noah left him hanging, fists bunched at his sides. For a split second I thought he might take a swing at Mr. Shaw.
“Don’t call me son,” Noah bit out through clenched teeth, stepping so close to Mr. Shaw that their chests bumped. His eyes dropped to me; I was frozen to my chair. Somewhere I had failed to connect the dot that would complete this picture. “You ready?”
I thought for Mr. Shaw’s sake I better be. I didn’t understand the animosity radiating off of Noah. He looked like he was about to combust. He deliberately turned his back on Mr. Shaw and walked away, stiff with anger. He was out the door before I could even stand up.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw.” I stumbled in my haste to get around him. Strong fingers curled around my upper arm, preventing me from falling on the floor. I bit back a hiss as my toe stubbed on the chair leg. His shirt hiked up, revealing the gun clipped to the band of his shorts. I knew my dad and Mr. Shaw were involved in some real estate ventures together. Kind of made me wonder why a small time real estate mogul carried a gun.
“You too, Caris. Somehow we’ve managed not to run into each othe
r, but your dad has told me so much about you. Erin, too.”
“Yeah, she’s been great, taking me under her wing.”
“And apologize to Noah for me. I didn’t mean to upset him.” He seemed genuinely distressed he’d upset Noah.
“I will. And tell Erin hi for me.” I made for the door, weaving through tables and chairs, grabbing a peppermint from a box on the counter. It had a sign above it for the Walton County Wildlife Rescue. I dug a dollar out of my front pocket and contributed it through the tiny slot.
“Caris.” Mr. Shaw’s voice was so close it startled me. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me. “Despite what Noah may tell you, I’m not the bad guy. I only want what’s best for Noah. For all of you.”
I muttered a “thanks” and pushed through the door into the blazing heat.
Noah was sitting in the Bronco with the engine running, fingers tapping restlessly against the wheel. I crawled inside and as soon as I shut my door, he rammed into reverse, tires squealing. We pulled out of the parking lot of the Fish House to the smell of burning rubber.
Eighteen
Noah
Caris’s eyes bore a hole in the side of my head as she sat next to me, waiting for some kind of explanation. I didn’t have one, not a rational one. Jamie wouldn’t want me blaming Marshall, but I couldn’t help it. It was easier that way, easier than blaming myself.
The sun had decided to come out in full force and burned right through the clouds, leaving a bright blue sky overhead. I usually welcomed the fuming heat, but it felt too stifling today. Sweat poured down my back, my shirt sticky against the seat. I made a hasty turn, prompting the car behind me to lay on the horn. A dude yelled something crude at me out the window that got lost under the canopy of trees. I had pulled onto an old service road to the state park. No one used it much anymore as it was totally obscured by a thick growth of scrub oaks and palmetto bushes. The wire that had held up the “no trespassing” sign was snapped off at one end, long buried under sand and leaves. Really it was more of a path with tire ruts faded into tired grass and dead leaves. My tires skidded to a stop on what was left of the gravel. I flung my door open, poised to jump out and run.
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