“You all right?” Caris ventured, turning half toward me.
I didn’t like the way she had looked at me all during lunch, like I was some hero for showing her how to breathe when she probably could have figured it out on her own. She would figure all this out on her own. She didn’t need me. I didn’t want her to need me. Did I? And I sure as hell didn’t want to think I needed her. Seeing Marshall always did this to me. Jumbled things up. Took the sense out of things that had made sense before.
“I gotta go.” I took off down the path and cut through the sand, eager to feel the water, let it wash away the sweat and the stink of guilt. It followed me everywhere in one form or another. Erin’s smiling but sad eyes. My mom’s attempts to make me into someone like my brother, someone I could never be. Jeb’s continual sympathy. Marshall and his “Noah, son.” He’d never called me son before. I wasn’t his son. We weren’t even family anymore. That link was gone. Everywhere I looked and everyone I saw acted as reminders of the thing I couldn’t yet admit to myself. I refused to admit it now.
The water acted as my oasis. A place to forget. A place of uninhibited movement where I could let go of my mind and just be. I surged through the Deep, wondering how far I had to go so I wouldn’t hear her anymore. Wondering if this was all my fault. If maybe some unacknowledged part of me had wanted to come home that day. Why else would I have been so close to shore?
I swam for miles, surrounded by nothing but the deep dark, letting it dull the edge of grief.
Her Song curled around me like silk ribbons, coaxing me back. I went, taking my time, rolling through the water, swimming to the languid tune of her Song. Out here, under the surface, it took on a mellow quality, reverberating around me in a slow coil. I saw her clearly through the water—long tanned legs, the tips of her pink toes partially buried on the sandy bottom where she had waded out as far as she dared go. Fish darted in and out her legs and nibbled at her feet. I swished them away with a wave of my arm and surfaced in front of her.
The wind had picked up, lifting her hair away from her face. Her eyes widened and sparked when she saw me. Lightning lived in her eyes. It crackled between us, drawing me closer. So close she had to crane her neck to look at me. My fists curled and uncurled at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her. She held me enthralled. So absolutely trapped.
“You’re singing,” I said, a simple acknowledgment of what was between us. She was afraid of me being obsessed with her and I thought maybe I was. I wanted to grab her, plunge my tongue into her mouth.
“I know. I’m sorry. I think it’s being here at the beach.” She crossed her arms defensively, as though I had accused her of a terrible crime. I heard her concerted effort to make it stop. Saw the line of concentration marring her forehead. I didn’t know how to convince her it was okay. Not without exposing too much of myself. I wasn’t ready for that.
“It’s okay.” My eyes dropped to her parted lips and I had to cup her jaw in my hand and run my thumb over her full bottom lip. It trembled when I did and I thought I might die if I didn’t kiss her.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Her voice wavered on the edge of some unknown precipice. I was right there with her, and if she asked me to jump with her, I would. Energy flowed through the water and I dropped my hands, circling her arms with my fingers and braced for the wave that was coming.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re going to kiss me,” she said on a breathless whisper barely heard over the dull wash of the waves.
“I was thinking about it.” My fingers tightened on her arms. I could hardly deny what was undoubtedly clear on my face. I wanted her. More than for her Song. More than for what she was. Had she been merely human, I would have wanted her.
“You can’t, Noah.” Her head shook in denial. “I know you said I wasn’t like my mother, that you weren’t afraid of me.” Her lips quivered. She tried so hard to put on a brave face. “But I’m afraid of me. Going beyond friends would be too much. I won’t risk hurting you. Promise me you won’t kiss me.” She looked genuinely scared, as if touching lips would seal us both to a fate worse than death. The last thing I wanted to do was add to her distress.
“I won’t kiss you,” I heard myself say, which was a boldfaced lie. And since I had already promised I wouldn’t lie to her, I amended, “Not unless you ask me to.”
She closed her eyes on a sigh, the relief so total that all the tension drained from her body and I literally held her up.
“You wouldn’t hurt anyone, Caris. You’re one of the kindest people I know.”
“Wouldn’t I? I hurt my dad.” Guilt clouded her eyes.
“Well, no disrespect to your dad, but he asked for it. I’ve felt like hurting him myself on your behalf.” I wasn’t ready to sympathize with Mr. Harper yet. I may never be ready for that.
“I’ve been ignoring him. I haven’t even said one word to him in days. For seventeen years he was all I had and now I can’t even talk to him.” She pulled out of my grasp and I let her go, following her back to the shore.
“A few days is nothing. He understands, Caris. I doubt he expected you to forgive him overnight.”
She paused, letting a trio of sandpipers scuttle by, chasing the tide, before picking out a spot on the sand beside her discarded cover-up. She’d stripped back down to her bathing suit. It was different than the one she’d worn the day Sol had pushed her off Jax’s boat—more modest boy shorts, no strings in sight.
I sat down about a foot away from her and leaned back on my elbows. She remained silent and I closed my eyes to listen. I’d never understood the landers who wore earphones or listened to the radio while they were out here. The Gulf, even on days like today when the waves were docile, still offered a comforting lave. The wind buzzed and the yellow flag fifty yards away slapped lazily in the light breeze.
“How do you find such deserted beaches?” Caris turned her head one way, then the other. It wasn’t totally deserted. A few people walked along the shore, far enough away to be ignored. Off in the distance a couple scooted side by side on paddleboards, taking advantage of the calm conditions of the Gulf.
“Well, this is our beach,” I said.
“Who lives there?” Caris pointed to my house nestled against the dunes like a buried treasure.
It sat on a strip of beachfront cordoned off with a wire fence and official government signs that warned trespassers to keep off. Two thousand feet of prime Gulf front that decades ago my grandfather had negotiated for in a deal that had afforded us more privacy than many of our kind enjoyed.
“I do. With my mom.” I picked up a piece of dried grass and cracked it between my fingers. “And sometimes Jeb.”
“So he is a good friend of yours.” She shoulder-bumped me then lay back, stretching out under the afternoon sun.
“Pretty much family,” I said.
“He said something about a tribe. How many of us are there?”
“Not as many as there used to be. Fifty-seven in our tribe. Maybe a couple thousand total on the entire Gulf coast.” Which, when all was said and done, was a minuscule number.
“Why do you hate Mr. Shaw?” She looked at me from under the shade of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m prying.”
“Yeah, you are.” I threw the piece of grass at her. It landed on the flat ridge of her stomach. She didn’t have the kind of skin that would ever get really tan. Lightly toasted was what I would call her. Totally edible. “I don’t hate Mr. Shaw. Obviously he knows what we are. What we can do. He wanted to use some of our talents to help him catch some bad guys.” I huffed to myself, remembering how naive we’d been. “He made it sound so badass and glamorous.”
“What happened?” Caris had rolled on her side, propping her head on her elbow.
“Officially, nothing. Unofficially, a simple reconnaissance mission that ended with a boat exploding. As far as Marshall knew, Jamie was on that boat.” My eyes drifted from her face to the Gulf water. “There was a chance, a small one, he
could have survived. The water can heal us to a degree.” I looked back down at the smooth column of her throat. “Can’t piece us back together, though. I had to search anyway. Just in case.”
“I’m sorry.” Her hand was warm and gentle on my arm and soothed away the tension that ebbed through my body.
“Yeah, me too.” I cleared my throat of the knot of emotion.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” I dropped my gaze. “I quit high school, so I’m kind of a loser.”
“I can’t even think about school right now.” She fell back in the sand, her arm draped over her face. “After the last week, Kentucky feels like another life.”
For Caris, in so many ways, it was another life. One she couldn’t go back to.
“Caris, when your dad brought you back here it was for good. You can’t leave. You’re bound to the water now.”
“I guess I knew that.” Her laugh was a depreciating sound that tore at my heart. “Joke’s on Caris.” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “It’s like some elaborate prank that everyone was in on.” She dipped her chin, eyes cast down to the sand. “And you’re not a loser. You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Well, there’s a couple of people who might argue with you about that.” I had been half joking when I’d said that, but it almost felt a little true. School was out of the question. Even if I had a high school diploma, it wouldn’t change anything. College sounded like more of the same torture. I wasn’t too keen on jumping back on Marshall’s wagon; my heart wasn’t in it anymore.
“Like who?”
“I think my mom is worried about my future. She wants me to finish school.”
“What do you want?”
“I have no freaking idea, but it doesn’t involve stepping into any kind of classroom.” That was true long term. Short term, I wanted to sit right here and keep enjoying a day that was turning out to be almost perfect.
“Yeah, me either.” She dropped her hands between her knees and started digging in the sand, letting it run through her fingers. “I saw him.”
“Who?”
“Athen Kelley. My father.” The words came timidly off her lips, as if she was afraid to even say his name.
“And?” My body tensed at the perceived threat. The thought of her being anywhere near that man without me chilled my blood. An irrational thought. I wasn’t her bodyguard. Still, I’d never been so eager to throw myself in front of speeding bullets for any of my other friends.
“I think he knew who I was, but I was with my dad and he got me out of there pretty fast. Dragged me, actually.” She cast her eyes out over the water like she expected him to come striding out. “I just feel so stupid. Even Sol knew what I was before I did, and Erin suspected.”
“Caris, you’re not stupid, and none of this is your fault.”
She turned her eyes on me and a determined look stole over her face. “Sol said something about you. When I asked him what he was doing on the boat, he said he was doing what you wouldn’t. What did he mean by that?”
“Tossing you overboard. The key to breaking the charm completely is for you to be in the water as much as possible. But he didn’t know what I did. The not being able to swim, the not breathing part.”
“So you don’t think he tried to drown me on purpose?”
“I kind of hate the guy, but no. I don’t think he tried to drown you on purpose. It was still cruel. I think he did it more to goad me than any real desire to help you. Sol doesn’t help anyone but himself.” I stood and offered my hand. “Sol’s methods suck but he was right. You need water.”
“What, out there?” Her eyes worried over the horizon. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“Come on. You’ve been ready for seventeen years.”
Nineteen
Caris
When I was fourteen I’d scoured Amazon and Netflix for any movies that had to do with the beach. It was an obsession that began when my dad had refused to let me go with my friend Molly to Panama City for spring break. He’d taken me skiing in Colorado instead. I’d hated every minute of it. Not that I couldn’t ski—I did well enough—but it was just too cold. My hands and feet stayed frozen the whole time and I suffered from altitude sickness, and the best part of every day had been the white chocolate mocha after coming down from the slopes.
I’d come home in a rebellious mood and watched every movie known to man that had anything to do with the beach. One particular movie struck a chord with me, a decades-old, cheesy chick flick that I watched over and over about two kids who survived a shipwreck and were stranded on a deserted island. They’d grown into teenagers, fallen in love, and had a baby, all in this beautiful backdrop of an island paradise. I remembered sobbing, being inexplicably heartbroken, when their little family was rescued, imagining it the unhappiest ending ever. Who would want to leave such a paradise?
I wondered now, as I followed Noah down the slope of sand on the most beautiful stretch of beach I had ever seen, if even then my subconscious had been trying to tell me something, clue me in to the fact that a part of me lay dead inside my body, desperate to be awakened.
“You okay?” Noah turned around, his eyes sparkling like the sun-dappled water behind him. The pearl around his neck shimmered seemingly with a life of its own, almost magical. That’s what the place that Noah had brought me to felt like—magical, like our own blue lagoon. A beautiful, pristine paradise made all the more beautiful because I was here with Noah. And because of him, I no longer had to be afraid. I was nervous, but more in an excited way than with any real fear.
I nodded then waded into the green water. It reminded me of the bowls of water I’d used as a little girl when my Nana and I had dyed Easter eggs together—bright and happy. Noah had easily dispelled my misgivings with the confidence he had in me. With my hand cradled in his, he pulled me deeper into the water until it reached my chest. Water seeped into my pores, easing a thirst that was at that point unquenchable.
He presented me with his back and the broad expanse of his shoulders. My hands hovered over him. I didn’t know why I would be suddenly shy about touching him. We’d touched before. On two of those occasions my life had been in danger and on the other it had been a necessity. But this time, though it was still a necessary, it was also for fun, for the sheer pleasure of being together. Friends, I reminded myself. We were just friends.
“It’s not that hard, Caris. Just put your hands on my shoulders. They’re coming.” He cocked his head at me, offering a prolific view of the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones. I knew he had been joking with me on the bed last night, but he really was pretty to look at.
I decided to quit acting like a love-struck tweener. My hands curled around his neck. “Who’s coming?” Water gurgled in my mouth as he submerged us in a shallow dive.
Noah glided forward in a ribbon of motion like a flag blowing in a light breeze. My hands slid to his shoulders, my body mirroring his. Silky hair caressed my wrists as his muscles worked under my fingers. I didn’t know what my body craved more; the embrace of the Deep or Noah’s nearness. Want blurred the lines, making them one and the same.
Adrenaline coursed through my blood making me feel wild and free. The sheer strength of his movements and the undulation of his hips and legs as he spurred us forward, sparked longing—longing for me to be able to let go and do this on my own.
The moment was perfect, marred only by the weight of my imperfection. Heaviness lingered in my legs, and for the moment I ignored the sensation, feeling only the welcome embrace of the water and the peace that grew in the muted silence. Mere seconds might have passed, or minutes, or maybe even an hour.
I heard the dolphins before I saw them, my ears pricking to their high-pitched whistles mixed with a crackle of static—a cacophony of voices coming at us as dark shadows at first, slowly taking shape. My heart picked up its beat on a thread of excitement. Noah came to a near stand still, the slow flutter of his feet holding us in place
. He drifted with me as my feet dropped and my toes curled in the sand. Noah offered me a reassuring glance. My hand slid from his in a reluctant release of fingertips. He circled around me, joining the carousel of sleek gray bodies in a parade of perpetual nodding smiles. The dolphins darted about, curious and playful. One nudged my ribs in invitation.
Come play with me.
Noah was familiar to them and they seemed to welcome him as one of their own. I had never seen him so carefree and happy. This was his world, the one place he could be himself. I wondered if I would ever call this place home. If I would ever be as comfortable here as he was. I realized as I watched him that he had a voice too. It mingled with all the others, but I could pick it out—his own distinctive sound.
Something else processed through my mind, snapshots one after the other, like pictures in a slide show. I’d learned some about echolocation in school, but to experience it for myself was something else altogether. What my eyes couldn’t quite pick up in the murkiness of the water, my brain somehow did, taking those sounds and processing them into pictures.
I closed my eyes and listened, testing my theory. I found Noah, picking out his shape among all the others of fins and flukes. The echoes of sound reflected back a perfect picture of Noah, long arms and legs gliding in front of me. I opened my eyes again and he smiled at me as if he knew I was in the midst of a new discovery.
He slingshot toward me, grabbing my arm as he bulleted past. My legs flew out behind me as he dragged me through the water. The dolphins gave chase, nipping playfully at my toes. I squealed, encouraging Noah to go faster.
Waterborn (The Emerald Series Book 1) Page 18