Find Me (Immersed Book 1)

by Francesca Riley

  Going to her room Skye pulled out her travel bag. Feeling she was shutting her mother away, she eased the parcel down into a side pocket, and went out to the balcony.

  The sea glinted in late afternoon light, offering a familiar summons and she closed her eyes at the twisting frustration it brought. Behind closed eyelids she saw again the shadow flitting through green-lit waves just before she’d lost it today. Saw Hunter’s intense grey eyes, his expression tight as he drew her to safety. His warning echoed in her head. He’d been right there when she needed him, yet again. And then he’d…vanished. Yet again. And later, on the rocks…

  Her eyes flew open. He’d been there on the rocks today? Yes, he had. How had she forgotten that? She’d been alone when Morgan joined her. She didn’t even recall him leaving. Uneasiness slid slyly through her. Her mind skittered away from the odd blankness, and focused instead on him.

  Why was it she only ever saw him in the sea? There was something...other about him. His face. His presence. Glancing toward the apartment, her eyes caught the Rhinemaidens print through the glass. Feeling a surge of alarm, she bit her lip, and turned to the water once more, straining to see through its shifting surface, to see him.

  These thoughts were crazy. Hunter was real, just a guy. Maybe she’d been around her father’s sea lore too long. Or was it her mother’s sea spirit story, getting to her? And the stories she’d overheard the girls discussing at the restaurant, so like her mother’s. She guessed it made sense – Mum would have been inspired by old village stories, just like the brothers Grimm, and just about every other storyteller. But that’s all they were – stories. Nobody lived in the sea but the fish. Nobody. End of insane thought process. It was laughable. Except...

  Why did no one else see him this morning? Why did he seem hell-bent on avoiding everyone – except her, when she needed him the most? Her brain felt like it was sparking with static, jerking from insane possibilities to adamant denial.

  Shower finished, Morgan began to clatter in the kitchen, a welcome interruption to Skye’s thoughts. Leaving the balcony, she joined Morgan foraging for snacks.

  After setting out hot chocolate and slices to share, Morgan leaned her elbows on the kitchen bar. “Hey Skye, I was meaning to ask…” She sounded careful. “Yesterday, you know – tide, trapped… You got pretty wet, right? Like, actually in the water judging by the state of your clothes?”

  Skye put her mug down, and crossed her arms defensively. “Um, yeah, I got pretty wet. Why?”

  “Sorry Skye, small town. I heard you kind of walked out of the sea.”

  Skye’s cheeks heated. How had she not figured it would get back to Morgan when Amber and Ethan were her friends? “And?” she asked, her chest tightening.

  Morgan straightened. “Well, it’s just…weird. Don’t get me wrong. It’s great you managed to get to shore like that.” She didn’t sound like it was great. “You haven’t even been able to swim… Like today, you know? You kind of…”

  “Flipped out?”

  “Yeah, that.” Morgan’s eyes were steady as she watched her. “Pretty up and down, right? Okay to swim one day, fully clothed no less. Going to pieces the next. And you were a bit weird on the rocks today too. Tell me I shouldn’t worry, Skye.”

  Skye perched on a bar stool. She should have told Morgan this before. She didn’t know why she hadn’t. “You’re right. I guess I didn’t really manage it,” she said. Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “Or not on my own, any rate. I did get caught out by the tide, as in trapped. But...this guy was there – to help me out.”

  “A guy…?” Morgan smiled wickedly, sliding onto a stool opposite Skye.

  “Yes, a guy Morgan.” Skye rolled her eyes. “It was no big deal.” She hesitated, remembering Hunter’s arms around her, the way he’d kept fear at bay. It had been a major deal. “It was just…lucky, that’s all. We’d got talking, got caught by the tide – and – he helped me to shore. End of story.”

  “Not end of story! Who is he?”

  “Tall, dark and handsome. Rescues damsels in distress. Eyes like a sea storm.” She felt her face heat under Morgan’s scrutiny. “I don’t really know anything about him. Except his name: Hunter. And he swims.”

  “Swims?”

  Skye shrugged, “Yeah, on some kind of swim team.” She tried to recall the details of the conversation.

  “I guess you didn’t get the chance to talk much?”

  “We talked for a while. I completely lost track of time. I realised he was the surf rescue guy who helped me in the channel, just before Ethan got me into the IRB. And today, you know, in the waves, although you didn’t see him before he left...”

  “Skye, I know all the surf rescue guys. There isn’t anyone called Hunter.”

  Skye’s stomach fluttered. Morgan’s guarded expression had returned. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, and Skye took a swig of hot chocolate to fill it.

  “He sounds amazing, so gorgeous, I’m totally jealous!” Morgan offered. It was a reasonable attempt at light-hearted. “It’s just – well, it’s happening pretty fast for you, right?”

  “What do you mean, “fast”? He’s just a guy who helped me out a few times. That’s all.”

  “Okay... Do you think you might see him again?”

  Hunter had told her to keep away, made it clear he thought the water wasn’t safe for her. And the water seemed to be the only place she ever saw him. “Uh – I don’t know.” But the answer was really ‘yes’. She did.

  Morgan was watching her closely. She nodded as if Skye had spoken aloud, and dropped her eyes, toying with her mug. “Do you mind if I tag along next time? It’s just…” She darted a piercing look up at Skye through her lashes, then pushed her hot chocolate away and looked directly at her. “Hey, if he’s genuine, then I get to meet your Neptune boy – and if he’s not – better safe than sorry, right?” She put on a funny voice and made quote marks with her fingers, “You know, safety in numbers and all that!”

  “He’s not ‘my guy’” Skye protested, nerves jangling at the phrase ‘Neptune boy’, “And he’s been helping me out of trouble, not into it.” She traced a pattern on the countertop, feeling uneasy at Morgan’s implied doubts about her safety with Hunter. Then she looked up. “Sure. The more the merrier, right?”

  Morgan gave her victory grin. “And hey,” she teased, “You never know – he might prefer brunettes.” Seeing Skye’s expression, she held up her hands in mock defence. “Joking, joking! But maybe he’ll have a friend…?” she wiggled her eyebrows, managing to draw a smile from Skye.

  At dusk Rowena and Morgan left for a shift at the restaurant. Skye wandered to the balcony and watched the sky deepen. Mauve and apricot streamers lingered over the darkening sea. Its beauty sent a delicious ache through her.

  A steady breeze carried the rich tang of wet sand and exposed rocks sharply, enticingly to her. Beyond Marine Parade, the beach was falling with night into a shadowed world of mystery. She drew a deep breath of cool air and Hunter’s face filled her mind. A restless longing different to the call of the sea gripped her, startling her with its intensity.

  Impulsively she spun on her heel, closing the balcony door behind her. She un-earthed an old pair of sneakers from the bottom of her travel bag and wriggled her feet into them. Tugging on a hoodie, she left the apartment. In minutes she was outside on the night-lit pavement.

  The moon had risen from behind the hills, lending the sky a luminous quality. Darting wind tossed Skye’s hair. Muffled laughter flared from the restaurant, bringing her recent visit there back with a fresh sting. She crossed the street and descended to the beach.

  The streetlights cast an illusion of golden warmth and pitted black shadows over the nearby sand. The tide had receded. In the distance, moonlight picked out hints of wind-ruffled foam.

  She felt on edge, waiting for something. Further down the beach, a dull path gleamed over wet sand, leading to the waves that called to her. A longing to follow that path, to be an
ywhere but inside her own head filled her. Slipping off her sneakers she broke in to a run, responding to the restlessness that had summoned her.

  The ruffling water’s edge showed faint neon as she neared. For an instant she believed she could keep going. But reality checked her pace – it was night-time, she was fully clothed, and besides, there was that little thing about potentially freaking out in the water.

  Slowing to a halt, she felt the water’s cold touch and looked down, a shadow of foam slipping across her bare feet. Sensing a growing presence, she looked up. Her breath stuttered.

  14. Supervised

  Painted in blue-white and indigo shadow, waist deep in the dark sea, Hunter stood, like a statue carved in marble from some ancient palace, perfect and perfectly still. Had he been waiting for her? The space between them pulsed. Skye stepped forward, water surging about her ankles.

  As the low wash swept back out, his arm stretched towards her. But whether in welcome or refusal, she couldn’t tell, as his head jerked away from her, toward ripples that moved beyond them in the inky velvet. “No.” His harsh whisper was keep away all over again. The rejection, so contrary to her feeling of connection to him, hurt. His hand dropped and he lowered his head, his shoulders rigid. “No...” he repeated, his voice like stone.

  Why did that sound like goodbye?

  A distant scream rang out behind Skye. She spun around, heart thumping. Across the exposed beach, shadowy figures sped. Piercing shrieks mingled with shouted laughter. Some of the runners waved handfuls of dark tendrils, while others tried to avoid them. Skye blew out an exasperated breath. It was a game, teenagers chasing each other with seaweed.

  Turning back to Hunter, she gasped. He was gone. Again. She looked towards the frolicking group as if they could reassure her she hadn’t imagined him. But they were already thundering off in a screech of sound, their dark clothing melting into the night.

  Skye felt electric with an unfamiliar energy, despite Hunter’s abrupt departure. Why hadn’t he come out and joined her on the sand? They could have talked. He might have explained what he meant by keep away. She might have asked him why he was swimming so late. He hadn’t joined her though. He’d gone the other way.

  Futilely trying to tuck her wind-tossed hair behind her ears, Skye peered out at the water, deceived by the dark shimmer into seeing retreating figures. She had to face it. If Hunter was nearby, masked by the night, he was deliberately avoiding her, waiting until she left before leaving the water himself. As surely, he had to...

  As she searched, the heightened anticipation she’d felt and the sense of presence both dissipated. Shreds of cloud dimmed the moonlight, the sea darkening, withdrawing into itself. The emptiness left by Hunter’s departure felt somehow final. Or was it just his constant rejection, closing a door she hadn’t even been certain she wanted open? She turned and walked away, heaviness settling in her chest.

  Nearing The Towers, Skye put her sneakers back on, wrestling her thoughts away from Hunter. The lighted restaurant windows reawakened the memory of that awful first day. What had Moira said, something about other swimmers? Could it have been ‘swimmer’? A lover, who had stolen Mum away from them? She’d wanted to ask her dad about it. Her stomach knotted. Should she?

  But on reaching the apartment, nudging the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, shrinking from making the call. It was getting late, she mused. Too late to disturb him? When the phone rang, she jumped, feeling caught out somehow. She “tsk’d” at her nerves, letting it ring a few times, before walking over and picking up.

  “Lauder residence.”

  “Skye?”

  “Dad?”

  “Close, but no cigar,” a familiar voice laughed. “Not calling too late, am I? Still night owls, I’m betting.”

  “Uncle Mike!” Mike’s chuckle warmed her right through.

  “Hey, less of the ‘Uncle’, d’ya mind? You make me feel ancient.”

  Skye laughed, “Sorry. Blame Dad, trying to instil good manners.”

  “Well, I give you permission to dispense with familial protocol, all right? Just ‘Mike.’”

  “Sheesh, sensitive! Feeling your age?”

  “Hey, I’m only six years older than you, remember?

  “Riiight,” Skye teased. “Hey – Mike – how did you know I was here?”

  “Daniel called me yesterday. Actually, I was kind of surprised. He doesn’t usually remember I exist.” At Skye’s silence Mike clarified, maybe worried he’d hurt her. “I don’t mean me personally, just – anything outside of his…interests doesn’t seem to register much. And his interests are pretty narrow these days.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Skye sighed. It didn’t feel disloyal talking like this with Mike. After all, they were kind of in it together.

  “I called him just now, but he must be out.”

  “Out? Really?” Or passed out... Skye frowned. Then she remembered Dad’s tentative trip. “I talked to him a couple of nights ago. He said he might be off again soon on a research trip. Maybe he left already?” Which meant she could postpone her awkward call.

  “He didn’t mention a trip, but he did say you were staying with the Lauders. I have a little scheme in mind for that café of theirs, umm, Leap?”

  “You’re as bad as Dad. It was Jump.”

  “Uh...did you say ‘was’?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t Dad tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Hearing the door, Skye turned to see Morgan and Rowena enter carrying pastry boxes.

  “Hold on?” she asked Mike, hearing his “Sure” as she lowered the receiver. “Hi, everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, better than usual,” Morgan said, putting her box on the kitchen bar.

  “Aarti and Gemma offered to finish up,” Rowena said. “They took pity on us.”

  “Leftovers,” Morgan explained the boxes. “Who’s that?” seeing the receiver Skye held.

  “Uncle Mike. He was just wondering about Jump...” She waggled the receiver. Mike was popular with them both.

  “I’ll take it,” Rowena smiled, putting her box with Morgan’s.

  “Pass you over to Rowena, okay?” Skye told Mike.

  “Thanks. Catch up with you soon, I hope.” It sounded more like a plan than a question.

  The beach seemed to be off Morgan’s agenda the next few days. She and Skye explored the village, watched old movies, talked, and listened to music in the apartment.

  Skye grudgingly welcomed the distance from the ocean, even though the pull of it, stronger than ever, was driving her crazy. Somehow her sea-longing had become mixed up in her mind as Hunter-longing.

  The anticipation humming beneath her skin ever since he carried her to the surface of the channel now lay dormant. It was as if his departure from her into the darkness that moonlit night had been final.

  She hated this, these feelings – she was smarter than this. A handful of encounters. She barely knew him. It was ridiculous that this loss should hurt her. It wasn’t even a loss. He’d been so damned mysterious, she was just intrigued, that’s all. She tried to disconnect, but the dull heaviness she’d felt alone on the sand that night, lingered.

  Uncle Mike phoned again, for fleeting hellos to Skye, and lengthy discussions with Rowena. There had been an air of suppressed excitement about Rowena since his first call, and very soon all was explained. In less than a week, the café dream had come alive again.

  “How exactly did this happen?” Skye asked Morgan over breakfast. Morgan’s face, always serenely confident, was alight with her old vigour and focus.

  “It’s kind of incredible. Mike’d had this idea of going in with us on Jump as a silent partner. He’d been looking into it, and he heard about a lease coming up. It’s a little bigger than Jump was and he thought maybe expansion could make it pay all of us in the long run. He was shocked we’d closed.” Morgan paused to sip coffee. “But he and Mum worked it all out – we’re doing a whole new café! Mike’ll be a l
ong-distance, silent partner. They kept it quiet because they didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

  “That is so great!”

  The door opened, and Rowena burst in, beaming.

  “Got them, Morgan Maggie May!” She jangled a bunch of keys. “Skye, I’d love your thoughts, too. It’s unlikely we’ll miss out at this point in the season, but the early bird catches the best location. I know Mike is keen on it, but I need both your brains. Come on, let’s go!” Rowena’s energy was infectious. They scrambled off the bar stools, cleared their breakfast mess in less than a minute, and followed Rowena out of the apartment at a near jog.

  A week and half later, Skye blinked awake in the silent apartment. The bedside clock read eight am. The Lauders had no doubt already left. She knew she had to get up, but a couple more hours sleep would have been welcome.

  She felt like she couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been clearing and cleaning the cavernous shop space that was quickly metamorphosing into the new café. Rowena had called Mike immediately after that first viewing, and the lease had been signed practically at once. Most of the improvements were cosmetic, and they were saving money doing it themselves.

  With Mike still in New Zealand, the Lauders and Skye had been working on the project every day, Morgan and Rowena juggling shifts at The Towers restaurant. Skye didn’t know where they got their energy. She would have to dig deep to get herself moving. With a groan she forced herself out of bed.

  Before long she stood on the pavement at the quieter end of Bascath Beach, across the road from the transforming Café Bliss, corner store of a small row of shops. Here, Marine Parade curved to meet the tidal river. Houses and tree-filled gardens dotted the hillside above.

  Today at high tide, half a block away the slow-moving river was the colour of leaves, disappearing into shadow beneath the hillside that formed part of the range encircling Bannimor. Distant gulls swooped and cried, hopefully aggressive around the young families who fished off the wooden jetty or threw bread to ducks. Skye breathed in, savouring the unique river smell tingeing the air.