Find Me (Immersed Book 1)

by Francesca Riley

  The welcome sound of Morgan and Rowena returning brought her inside to greet them. They both looked tired, and guilt hit her. Should she have insisted on helping?

  “Skye, how are you, love?” Rowena dropped her keys and bag onto the kitchen bar, and headed into the bathroom.

  Morgan threw herself onto the low deep sofa opposite Skye and yawned. “All good?” she asked once her yawn had subsided.

  “Yep. How about you? Restaurant okay?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual.”

  Skye was beginning to guess ‘not great’ might be the usual. She heard the shower start, and the bathroom door began to close. Then it opened again.

  “Skye, can you please sort these out before you get too comfortable?” Rowena called.

  “Sort what out?” Morgan inquired, instantly curious.

  Skye froze for a split second, then leapt into action, calling “On it,” but Morgan made it there at the same time and there was an oddly silent moment as all three of them contemplated her wet sandals on the bathroom floor. She’d meant to dry them on the balcony, hide all obvious traces of her wet afternoon.

  Without meeting anyone’s eye, Skye hooked her fingers through the straps and carried them out to the balcony. She banged them together to get rid of loose sand then leaned them against the wall to dry.

  When she went back inside Morgan was sleepily flicking through channels. Skye curled onto the sofa opposite her once more, hoping no questions would be asked. To her relief Morgan appeared too tired to be interested. Soon Rowena emerged and Morgan took her turn in the bathroom.

  Skye gave up on TV and wandered out onto the balcony again, drawn like a magnet to the view. She was startled when Morgan spoke from the doorway behind her.

  “Everything all right, Skye?”

  Skye turned, surprised. “Of course.”

  “Did you maybe go to Ciarlan Cove? I know you always used to go back there.” Morgan’s tone was cautious.

  “Uh, yeah, actually I did.”

  “Cool. It’s just – I just noticed your wet things in the hamper.”

  “Oh, right. I went out on the rocks to read, got caught out by the tide a bit,” she pointed to the book drying against the wall.

  Morgan visibly relaxed. “Oh, Skye, that sucks! Your mum’s old book. You love that book. You okay?”

  “Sure.” She forced a smile and Morgan headed back inside to have her shower. Skye felt uncomfortable: why hadn’t she mentioned Hunter?

  She settled on the lounger again. The balcony was a pool of drowsy warmth. The ocean’s murmur was soothing. She closed her eyes, her thoughts blurring and dissolving.

  A soft noise nudged at her. She blinked awake, realising only then that she’d slept. Next to her, asleep on the other lounger was Rowena, head pillowed on the crook of her thrown back arm. In the stage-light of the low sun, Rowena’s fine lines, usually all but imperceptible, were clear to Skye’s affectionate scrutiny. She thought Rowena’s face was lovely, and these tiny lines were simply evidence of the life she’d lived in her skin.

  One of those unexpected jabs twisted under Skye’s ribs as thoughts of her mother flooded in. She held her breath for a second until it passed. What might Mum have looked like now, if she’d had the chance? A few fine lines, or deep grooves of worry between her eyebrows? Streaks of grey creeping in, or something radical like a Goth black crop?

  But according to Daniel’s document, maybe she had had the chance. Maybe Mum was somewhere in the world, living her life without them? Would Rowena know? Could she ask her? Skye’s pulse raced.

  Skye’s perusal must have seeped into Rowena’s subconscious. She stirred, stretching, her eyelids blinking open. Seeing Skye, she smiled, “You’re awake! I didn’t want to disturb you, sleeping like an angel there. I only sat down for a moment…” She sat up, pushing her mussed curly hair back off her face, looking a little embarrassed. “If you tell me I was snoring I’ll have to kill you.”

  Skye laughed. “Terrible snoring,” she teased. “The neighbours complained, and the brute squad’s on its way to silence you now. But on the up-side, you look like an angel when you sleep.”

  “Oh, delightful, I’m sure,” Rowena wrinkled her nose. She swung her legs off the lounger, and stretched again, groaning. Skye’s stomach filled with butterflies as she sought a way to phrase her question about her mother.

  “Hey, sleeping beauties.” Morgan stepped onto the balcony, rubbing her long hair with a towel. “Didn’t know you were going to nap out here, Mum.” She bent forward and swathed the towel around her hair, then straightened again, tucking the towel ends under like a turban.

  “I hadn’t meant to,” Rowena admitted. “I tell you, sometimes I feel like Cinderella, slaving in the kitchens for the wicked stepsisters. Well, wicked landlord.”

  “Why don’t you just chuck it in? There must be better jobs, better bosses?” Morgan sat next to Skye.

  “I’ve looked, trust me. No, here’s where we stay for now. You can’t complain about the perks: serviced apartment, fabulous view…it’s worth it. I don’t mind.” She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself as much as them. She pulled a face and smiled at their united worried expressions.

  “Hey! It’s supposed to be me worrying over the two of you! Now, go and give me something to worry about while I get tidied up before my next shift.” Rowena stood and went inside, and Morgan followed her. The moment for asking about Ellie had passed.

  10. A Shadow

  Late the next morning heat seeped through Skye’s thin sandals as she and Morgan crossed the road to the beach. Pausing at the stone wall, she gazed out to where sea met sky in a dazzling shimmer. This was it.

  “All good?” Morgan looked back, and Skye trotted down the stone steps to catch up.

  Reaching the water’s edge, they dodged ruffling arcs of foam, looking for the perfect space to settle. Under the high sun, the sand was the colour of bleached shell, darkening to tan where the waves tumbled the minute grains. Skye found herself scanning faces.

  At the far end of the beach near the saddle entrance they dropped their bags by the rocks. This part of the beach was almost empty. The crash and hiss of the waves sounded louder without the competing hum of humanity.

  Skye kicked off her sandals and dug her toes into the hot sand. Shaking out her towel, she realised she had chosen a small one by mistake. Not that small mattered if she didn’t get wet. Nerves gnawing, she tried to dredge up a glimmer of confidence by recalling Hunter’s husky words: See Skye, the water’s not so bad.

  Morgan’s long dark hair swung as she slipped off her shorts and shirt, revealing her own bikini and a healthy tan. Skye followed suit, trying not to think further than one step ahead. The sea was a shifting reflection of the bird’s egg blue overhead, the silky breeze like a sigh. She breathed in the brine-flavoured air, feeling her limbs loosen with pleasure.

  Morgan practically danced to the foaming shallows, snapping her bikini bottoms into place a little more. Time to swim. Skye’s breath came a little faster. A flutter of panic moved under her ribs. What was the big deal, she challenged herself? She could swim in a pool any day of the week. And look at how well she’d managed in the channel, until she was completely about to drown... The apprehension quivering in her stomach tightened into knots.

  Morgan called to her, laughing, but her smile faded. Skye tried to move forward, to look natural. Just a handful of steps and she would be in the water. Swimming was fun. It had been what she loved. It still was. But the knot in her stomach was like a rock. She felt too heavy to move.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” Morgan splashed back out of the water.

  Skye took a deep breath. “Uh… I think I’ll sit this one out. I don’t really feel like getting wet today. You can swim for the both of us – remind me how it’s done, right?” She cringed at the forced false note of ‘no problem here’ in her voice.

  “Skye, you have to swim! You can’t make me swim by myself!” Morgan pulled the beggi
ng expression that usually served her well. “Pretty please... Your holiday won’t start ‘til you’ve been in. This is what we do, remember?” she persuaded.

  Yes, Skye remembered, and it hurt. Maybe coming back was a mistake?

  Morgan’s intelligent eyes hadn’t left Skye’s face, and she suddenly shrugged, “Hey, you’re probably still shaken from the channel accident. Who wouldn’t be? And it really won’t have helped your –” she broke off. “Keep my sunbathing spot warm okay? No letting the first cute guy who hits on you take it!” She turned and splashed through the water until she was deep enough, and dove into the waves.

  Skye sank down onto the sand, knowing the moment of truth was only postponed. She had hoped that her bravery in the channel meant she was stronger than this haunting fear. An image of the sinking infant swam sickly through her mind. Despite saving Emma, the accident seemed to have had the opposite effect.

  In front of her, Morgan vaulted up from the water and waved, then fell backwards. Immediately she resurfaced, and waved again, just like when they were kids. Skye waved back, but the moment was bittersweet.

  The beach around her filled her senses. Yearning for the sparkling water only metres away gripped her, so powerful it frightened her. Given what she knew would probably happen if she tried to swim, it was like a crazy death wish she could barely control.

  Soon Morgan waded out of the water, panting. She leaned over Skye and shook her hair, showering her with droplets.

  “Oy!” Skye yelped.

  “There, your holiday is officially christened ‘begun’,” Morgan announced. “And may all who sail in her prosper,” she added grandly.

  Skye smiled, absently rubbing the drops of salt water into her skin. She hoped this holiday would be a good one. That it wouldn’t crash and burn, or sink. It might, if this was the closest she got to swimming.

  Morgan flopped down on her towel and rolled onto her back, groping in her bag for sunglasses. Skye mirrored her, focusing on the sound of the waves, letting it fill her mind, pushing out every other thought.

  But after what felt like only minutes, she registered high voices and laughter nearing. Shrieks of ‘Moorrrgaannn’ carried across the beach. Skye twisted her head around to see a group of girls around their age descending on them. Morgan sat up and waved. Leading the charge was the blond girl she’d got tangled up with in the shallows yesterday. The one from the restaurant. Crap.

  “Morgan, I thought it was just the two of us,” she hissed, sitting up.

  “Skye, chill.” Morgan lifted her sunglasses to give her a firm look, reminding her of Rowena. “I was going to arrange something later, but they sort of invited themselves. I couldn’t say no. And besides,” she added, “You’ll have fun if you let yourself. No one will even notice you. You’ll just be part of the crowd, trust me.”

  Morgan jumped up to return OTT Hollywood-style hugs from her friends. Skye made herself as small as possible.

  “Guys, this is Skye, I told you she was staying?” Morgan flourished her arms dramatically towards Skye, still seated and feeling awkward. Morgan looked so pleased to introduce her, Skye tried to make an effort.

  Morgan reeled off a list of names, pointing at each girl in turn. Skye “Hey’d” each one, but they and their names were mostly a blur. Apart from a sideways glance at her dark-haired friend who hid a smile, the blonde called Amber seemed not to recognise Skye.

  The newcomers all stripped down to their swimsuits, talking loudly together, and arranged themselves in a row. Skye lay back again on her little towel. After a while their chatter was like white noise, easy to tune out to the crashing waves.

  But when the girls’ voices rose up like a flock of excited birds she tensed again. New voices shouted across the sand and she sat up, identifying their source. A crowd of guys were joining them. Double crap.

  Turning to glare at Morgan, she was startled to find her waiting, Skye’s clothes in her hands as if expecting her to make a run for it. And suddenly she realised: this gathering wasn’t a “couldn’t say no” thing. It was an intervention.

  This whole holiday was probably project ‘rescue Skye from her sad self’, clearly starting today, with a ‘find Skye friends, get her swimming’ party. Fat Chance.

  They locked gazes in a silent battle of wills, of such blistering intensity she was surprised that the noisy girls around them remained oblivious. The only person she knew who was more stubborn than her was Morgan, and the stand-off could have gone on until it was too dark to see each other anymore. But Morgan suddenly lifted the bundle nearer and waved it a little before tossing it to her. Skye caught the shorts and top, confused by the easy capitulation.

  Morgan looked intently at her, and said low and fierce, “Skye, it’s your choice. But you will never get over this if you don’t take the first step. And you’ll never find a better time to take it than now, because that’s all we get.”

  Then her voice softened, “Just go for it, Skye. You’re one in a crowd here. There’s power in numbers. Just…go for it.” Her heart was in her voice and Skye felt her own eyes prickle. Morgan always had her back.

  The guys reached them, the volume increasing tenfold. Morgan’s friends began to dance about, running and leaping into the water, shrieking and laughing. High and deep voices blended together in a spike of energy and enthusiasm. But still Morgan held Skye’s gaze, her eyebrows raised like an ultimatum.

  Skye felt the energy of the group catching hold of her, and suddenly, overriding the resounding when hell freezes over repeating in her head, she felt a stab of the old piercing joy she used to get when she was little, leaping into the waves.

  As if she saw the spark and recognised it Morgan smiled, “Race you in, Skye-bear!” then stood and ran after the others. Skye scrambled to her feet and let the buoyancy of the moment carry her to the water’s edge.

  But somehow the group was already too far ahead in the water, distant happy voices calling to each other, bobbing heads glimpsed between the steady rolling waves. The pull of the crowd was broken, and Skye stood cowed on the sand. She saw her life stretching ahead, barren without the touch of the sea that summoned her, and ached at the thought.

  She listened to the sweep of lacy foam over the firm sand, felt the water tickling coldly over her bare feet. And as if it was trying to help, her body tingled with anticipation again, the way it used to when she was five or six, desperate to swim. Seizing on that familiar feeling she took a deep breath and splashed lightly through the sweeping foam, wading into the shallows, ignoring everything else. She felt light with a new sense of freedom and a bubble of joy tickled up through her chest. It must simply be mind over matter. This really was like old times.

  She waded deeper, pushing forward. The water was above her waist now. Ahead of her, hard as cold diamonds, glistening waves bore steadily down. A larger wave broke against her body, the cold shock of it making her breath catch. The ocean rose and tilted, seeming to lean over her. Her legs began to tremble and her heart raced unevenly. She tried to leap a little to soften another large wave’s impact but it broke heavily against her, drenching her, and she stumbled.

  Shrieks of laughter broke jarringly into the surreal grip of fear. With boisterous lunges Morgan’s friends surrounded Skye, splashing and leaping in the gold tinged waves, laughing and goading her.

  “Don’t be chicken, Skye! Come on, it’s lovely once you’re in. You just have to get your head under.” They closed in, splashing her. She tried to move away from them but her legs were made of stone. The distant roar of wild breakers sounded somewhere in the back of her head and the day darkened. They were all yelling, but it sounded distant, as if their faces were up close to hers but shouting through thick glass.

  Her arms were grabbed, hands on her back. She couldn’t catch her breath to say ‘stop’ as they pushed and dragged her forward, lifting her rock-feet off the sandy seabed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow move through the azure curve of a wave, but her mind couldn’t follow it. A
s the wave curled and broke against her she fell forward into darkness, was swept under and swirled around, and she and her mother were lost in the deep ocean as her father searched for them.

  It was too dark – he wouldn’t find them. She opened her mouth to scream to him and the sea rushed into it. She couldn’t breathe. Stars began to burst behind her eyes. Then strong arms closed around her, holding her close, racing her through the water until her face broke the surface. Choking and spluttering, she blinked her stinging eyes clear, and looked into storm-grey eyes in a face tight with tension.

  Hunter’s voice in her ear was urgent, intense. “I could have been someone else, something else. Stay away from the water.” His words tumbled together with the crashing grey breakers that still echoed through her mind, but the cold arms that held her close were real. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “so sorry. Please, keep away.”

  And then she was stumbling alone through the shallows, coughing out water, gasping for air. She staggered onto the beach and fell onto dry sand, curled up on her side, her head spinning cartwheels of blackness and stars.

  11. Sightings

  As the spinning subsided, Skye became aware of gritty sand, of wet hair plastered across her face. Morgan crouched in front of her. “What happened? Are you all right?”

  Morgan’s friends hung back, looking sideways at Skye as though fear and drowning were contagious.

  “Where is he?” Skye forced out between quivering lips, pushing herself into a sitting position and looking around.

  Morgan draped Skye’s towel around her quaking shoulders and glanced back at the empty waves. “Where is who?” She looked at her friends nearby. “Amber? What happened?”

  Amber, her wet hair a smooth honey-blond cap, stepped nearer, looking wary but also annoyed. “Nothing happened. One minute we were taking her deeper, and then she just kind of – went under, and like, disappeared. Next thing, she’s here on the beach and we’re still out there, trying to find her. God, Skye, that wasn’t funny. We were Freaking Out!”