Paul stared at the words. A minute later, he ignored his conscience, telling him not to intrude on her most private thoughts, and flipped through the pages, skimming over what she’d written. He finally just turned to the beginning and started to read. Knowing he shouldn’t do something had never stopped him before.
The journal began when she’d dropped out of college to help take care of her mother. She’d just broken up with Sean when they found out her mother was ill. Rhees was only nineteen at the time, too young.
Rhees nursed her mother until her death, a year and a half later, and then, Rhees took on all the responsibilities of caring for the house, and her father. Through the pages of her mourning, she spoke of her desire to learn to dive, to do something courageous, but that she was too chicken to follow through with anything. Paul knew her well enough. She was just too selfless to leave her father. He didn’t need to be a full-time job and yet, Rhees’ empathetic heart would never allow her to leave him to mourn on his own. Paul read on.
There was a long break in her writing when she’d gotten over the worst of her bereavement, but her entries started up again when they discovered her father’s illness, shortly after Rhees’ twenty-fourth birthday. He hadn’t been himself, but she’d discounted the symptoms because he’d never been the same after losing his wife. Of course, she blamed herself for not seeing the signs and getting him to a doctor sooner.
He died November second, only two and a half months later. Paul wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he read her thoughts, her fears, during the illness and his death. She shouldn’t have had to go through that, and he wished he could have been there for her. He said a quick prayer, thanking God for sending Mrs. Michaels to help.
Paul continued reading through her decision process about what to do with the rest of her life, her surprise when she found out her father had life insurance. She didn’t know until after he’d passed, but he’d purchased the policy during her mother’s illness, while he continued to tell her he didn’t believe in it.
Paul had been paying attention to the dates—that was just the way his brain worked—always analyzing, picking apart the details. He’d think about where he was at each point while Rhees was going through everything. He’d wince in shame at the timing of various events.
She became obsessed with learning how to dive, even though the thought of it scared her to death. He read through the process she used to figure out the best way to go about it, her decision to come to the island . . . Paul rubbed his face, overwhelmingly grateful she’d chosen his island over the others on her short list.
Her comments about other people were always kind and considerate, even toward the people that hadn’t treated her especially kind in return, and she always looked for an excusable reason for their actions.
He found himself laughing aloud at her thoughts of him during their first few weeks, how surprisingly kind they were, considering. She wrote of her concern for him, and her theories of why he acted like such a ‘butthead’, theories she used to excuse him for his behavior.
“Aw Rhees, you’re just too damned sweet for your own good.” He wondered how he’d ever doubted her pure heart, and he made a promise to himself to make it up to her somehow. He read on.
There were fewer and fewer entries as they spent more and more time together. She’d apologize to herself for not writing more often, but she explained that she only wrote when she was troubled, and she claimed to have no troubles at the time. She expressed her gratitude for such a perfect life.
He grimaced when she mentioned how perfect she thought he was. He honestly didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d been so sure he’d ruined her life, but he could see in writing, her own point of view, how happy he’d made her. How could he begrudge that?
There were a few entries through their engagement, and then an understandable break after the wedding and hijacking, but her writing increased steadily after the dressing room incident and since being back on the island—home, she called it, and she drew a big heart around the word every time she’d written it. Some days, since being back, she’d written more than once in a day, indicating just how much he’d hurt her. He scrunched up his face in an attempt to stem back the tears threatening to fill his eyes.
Reading her innermost thoughts, she was honest about them in her journal. She’d never say any of those things to him—of course she wouldn’t—that might hurt his feelings, and she couldn’t bear that, no matter how much he deserved it. The few things she had said during their many fights hadn’t done any good—he’d refused to listen—to believe her.
He started reading the next entry, and the inclination to cry died, completely. His interest was suddenly piqued when he reached her description of the night he’d stayed on the mainland to get drunk, even if it did make him cringe to see her account, in detail, of how he’d made love to her on the deck.
“What a wonderful thing an orgasm is—my first one,” she’d written.
“I want to spend the rest of my life in bed with Paul,
letting him make me feel like that again, and again, and again.
Watching him have one too, knowing I did that to him,
might just be even better than having my own.
I’d like to experiment with that thought.”
He still didn’t remember it. He shouldn’t have been drunk for that. He’d robbed himself of that honor and he’d never forgive himself.
He missed her more than ever. The day he left, he’d known the second his plane landed, that he should have taken her with him. He hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place, but he needed to. He’d been so terrified, he couldn’t think straight.
He regretted it even more as he read how miserable she’d been the last few days, since he’d run out on her. He didn’t understand how she could possibly think he wasn’t coming back. A chill ran down his spine at what he read next. She spoke of diving, the only passion in her life, now that she no longer had him.
Diving gives me clarity, and when I can’t be diving, snorkeling is the next best thing. I wish I could snorkel forever,
just numbly drift off into the sunset and forget everything, forget him.
Ha! Like that’ll ever happen. I’m just hanging on to anything I can right now, hoping this pain will get better with time,
someday, maybe when I’m old and grey . . . who am I kidding.
I’m never going to get over him, but I have made up my mind.
It feels like I’ve been knifed in the heart, and tomorrow,
I’m going to insert the knife back in the same wound and twist it around.
I don’t want to do it, but I have to. I’ve learned a lot about myself the past year—the past month—Paul used to be here, helping me figure it out,
but now he’s gone, done with me, and I’m scared to death.
I wasn’t this scared when I lost my dad, the last person on this earth
who I could rely on.
Is Paul coming back? What if I never see him again?
What if he does come back—with her?
It’s time to put what I’ve learned into action. I know that I can’t just sit around,
waiting, and wondering, being afraid of what might, or might not happen.
Like the fears I’ve already faced, and conquered,
I have to face these new ones, head on, and hope that by so doing,
maybe the shadows they are casting in my mind, won’t seem so scary anymore. So, no matter how much it hurts to act, this thing will eat me alive if I don’t take control of my life. It’s about time!
And so, I’m meeting with Barton tonight at six thirty,
to draw up divorce papers. He said he’ll explain what I’ll have to do
if we can’t find Paul to serve them. Taking the bull by the horns . .
.
Oh dear God, please help me.
There were no more entries and Paul stared at the page, no longer seeing it, just staring.
Chapter 26
Rhees tossed her fins, mask, and snorkel onto the deck, and pulled herself up the ladder. It surprised her to see so many people still around even though it had to be after five. She confirmed it by checking the borrowed watch on her wrist. The sun would be setting soon.
“Why is everyone still here?” she asked Tracy.
“Still no schedule.”
“Claire said she’d put it—”
“Claire took off, right after Paul showed up.”
Rhees’ heart fell—she’d swear she felt the thunk—low in her gut. Breathe! She couldn’t remember how. As if things weren’t bad enough, some of the other people on the deck started chattering, all at once, while pointing to the street. She looked to see what the fuss was all about, just in time to meet Paul’s eyes as he stepped onto the Plank.
“Ah,” she whimpered, because she couldn’t find her voice, or words. She just stared, with her heart hammering away in her chest and her mouth hanging open.
Paul hesitated in his step when their eyes met, but his expression intensified even more. He seemed to need to process that it really was her, but once assured, he quickened his determined pace, bearing toward her.
“I would never want to be you right at this every minute.” Regina took a step back, away from Rhees. “What did you do?”
It took Rhees a second to answer Regina, to process the question, or the fact that Paul had really returned, or take her eyes off him as he pounded his way across the Plank, toward her, mouth taut, jaw set, his hands balled into fists. His eyes bore into her while his body language screamed fury.
Regina took, yet another step back, giving herself a wide berth. The smart girl knew him better than anyone else on the island, besides Rhees.
“Nothing,” Rhees finally squeaked out.
She began backing up, slowly at first, but the closer he got, the faster she moved until she’d backed herself to the corner of the deck, just in time for him to block any hope of a dry escape, if she found herself needing an escape. She glanced down at the water behind her, but the thought of jumping in reminded her of swimming the channel to get away from him. She’d been working on not running away from scary.
She refused to run, and then, with great resentment, asked herself what he could possibly be angry about?
“Barton?” he asked incredulously when he reached her, his eyes flashing with anger and exasperation.
She folded her arms, thinking it would make her look less fazed, and hopefully hide her trembling hands from him. She knew of only one reason he could possibly know about Barton and steeled herself with her own indignation.
“Not only did you take off without so much as a word,” she spat out, working hard to keep her voice steady, “you read my journal?”
“Okay,” he stammered, blinking nervously as she’d thrown him off point. “So I won’t be receiving any nominations for Husband of the Year.” He looked contrite, but only briefly, until his anger won over again. “But you didn’t have to go and set an appointment with Barton!”
“You left me,” she hissed. “What was I supposed to do?”
Paul’s eyes finally ran down Rhees’ camisole-less, bikini-clad body, and up again. He seemed to lose his train of thought. In the meantime, Tracy had run to get Dobbs.
“Paul,” Dobbs said, casually, coming around the corner. “You’re back.”
Paul ignored him, choosing to loom over Rhees instead, ogling her, acting disoriented.
Seeing Rhees in that white bikini again—Paul didn’t need to see that right now. He rattled his head to shake away the confusion muddling his thoughts. He needed a clear head. He’d learned some things, had a few revelations, come to some conclusions the past four days—the last hour—and he wanted to talk to her about them, alone.
“We need to talk,” he puffed out.
“No,” she whispered back. She looked down, he did too. “You left me. You left me for her. I can’t do this anymore, Paul. It hurts too much. It hurts more than I can bear.”
“But I’m back.” He leaned down, getting in her face so she’d see him when he tried flashing one of his smiles. “Her—what?”
“Ginger, Paul.” Rhees closed her eyes, avoiding his attempt to break her down with his charm. “I saw the email. You read it, and took off . . . to get her back—because she wanted you back.”
Rhees finally looked up at him, her eyes were pooled with tears, and he wondered how they could hold so much without spilling down her cheeks.
“Rhees, Baby.” Paul tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed away.
“Don’t Baby me,” she yelled, or whisper yelled, attempting to keep their public conversation private, because everyone in the whole world was standing around, watching.
“Everyone leave,” Paul growled. He turned to glare at them.
“But the schedule,” Tracy said.
“Fu—” He sighed, and toned down his response, trying to let Rhees know he wasn’t wound as tight as she suspected, though he really was. “Forget about the schedule. Tomorrow, we’ll dive in the afternoon. Be here by two, and we’ll work it out then.”
He’d wasted too much time getting that out. Rhees, the only meaningful thing he had in his life, needed his full attention.
“Listen, Baby,” he started.
“I know I said it didn’t matter,” Rhees started over the top of what he was about to say. “But it does, after all. I can’t, Paul. This marriage has been a nightmare—it’s my fault, I don’t blame you—but I need to stop this ache in my heart, and I need to stop making you so miserable. I need you to stop trying to change for me—”
“It’s interesting you’d say that,” he chuckled, but he couldn’t help but worry. “That’s exactly what I need to talk to you about.”
Rhees shook her head. Her eyes had finally reached their capacity, and the tears started rolling down her face. He stepped a little closer again, to try and hold her, but like the first attempt, she held her arms out as a barrier.
“Rhees?”
“Paul,” Dobbs said, putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder.
Paul turned to give him the evil eye, but Dobbs didn’t back away.
“Why don’t you give Rhees some time? You took the time you needed to do whatever the hell you took off to do. It’s only fair you give her a little time to settle all this in her mind.”
“Rhees?” Paul begged, and then he desperately grasped at the only thing he had left. “What about the baby?”
He heard a collective gasp from their spectators, and he glanced around again, wondering why they were still there.
“What baby?” Her head popped up and she finally looked him in the eye again. She didn’t look happy. “You got Ginger pregnant?”
“What?” he choked, perplexed. “Ginger? What? You’re not pregnant?” He really wished he could get her alone to talk about everything.
“No!” she answered resentfully, and then, with gritted teeth, asked, “Is Ginger?”
“What does Ginger have to do with anything?” He threw his hands in the air and stared at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about. She turned her back on him, shaking her head like she was disgusted with him.
“Come on, Rhees.” Spurred by sheer desperation, he grabbed for her arm, needing to gain some ground after losing so much of it. “We’re getting out of here so we can talk.”
Dobbs’ hand smacked Paul’s away as the big man stepped between the fighting couple in a threatening manner.
“Let it go, Mate,” Dobbs said.
“I really need you to stay out of this, Mate,” Paul said through clenched tee
th. His temper had already been knocking against what little reserve he had left.
“She’ll talk to you when she’s good and ready,” Dobbs cooed back, not backing down.
Paul’s mouth opened to say something, but he closed it again, and looked back at Rhees, who’d turned to see the pending brawl between the two men. He figured out that knocking Dobbs into tomorrow wasn’t going to help his case, so he gave up on that idea.
He gave Rhees another disbelieving, desperate look, begging her to walk off with him, but she glanced down, declining his offer with her body language. Paul finally turned away, paused, and then started to walk off, slowly.
The moment he sensed the gathered crowd relax, and start to disperse, he turned again, forged his way back, and before anyone knew what he had planned, he’d pushed Rhees into the water.
Rhees went under, and he watched as she fought her way back up, splashing more than necessary as she broke the surface. She floundered around for a second while seeming to process how she’d ended up in the ocean.
Paul turned and grinned at Dobbs.
“As I was saying,” he said, politely, “I need to have a conversation with my wife.” With that, he dived into the water and came up behind Rhees, slipped an arm around her shoulders, and started dragging her out to Frock.
oOo
For the first two seconds, Rhees considered trying to fight Paul, but she knew him to be too strong a swimmer. She didn’t stand a chance, so she let him drag her farther and farther away from the deck, coughing and sputtering because she’d swallowed water and got some up her nose during her unexpected plunge.
“I told you,” she growled. “I don’t want to hear about you and Ginger.”
Wet Part 3 Page 41