The Art of Rivers

by Janet W. Ferguson

  Chapter 15

  RIVERS LEANED INTO Cooper’s chest. The move felt like betrayal to Jordan, but she could no more pull herself away than she could erase her past.

  His arms wrapped around her, the hold feeling so different from Jordan’s. Cooper was lankier, leaner, but she fit nicely in the crook of his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Cooper whispered next to her ear. “I would trade places with Jordan if I could.”

  She glanced up at his face between the cracks of her soaked eyelashes.

  “I didn’t mean...” His head dropped, and his dark hair shadowed his brows. “I mean, he should be here with you, and I should be the one in a grave. I deserve it, but he didn’t.”

  The song echoed on through the cottage living room, Ed Sheeran crooning about falling in love and starting a family. Why hadn’t she deleted it already? Crying exhausted her, and she sunk closer, deeper against Cooper’s chest and the curve of his shoulder. She should say something. Part of her thought he might be right—Jordan did deserve to be here more than Cooper. Her human nature craved having somewhere to pour her pent-up blame, someone on whom to spew her anger.

  But another part whispered that no one was righteous. There was only One who hadn’t fallen short. But for God’s grace, all would be lost.

  Sniffling, she found her voice. “It’s not your fault. We live in a broken world, but someday everything will be made right.” Though her head knew the truth, often her heart lagged behind. But even after the short time she’d known Cooper, she’d discovered worthwhile qualities in him, no matter how she tried not to.

  And he still held her. The blasted song finally switched, and the beat of her breaking heart slowed. She was suddenly aware of the thump of his heart pulsing in his chest. She forced herself to inch away.

  “Sorry. I still fall apart sometimes.” Rivers cleared her throat against the tightness there. “A little thing can trigger it—a commercial for a show we binged-watched or the scent of his shampoo. A friend and I went to eat sushi, and a memory of Jordan trying to use chopsticks just about strangled me.”

  A soft chuckle came from Cooper. “Yeah, he was never a fan of sushi, and for a talented architect, chopsticks were his kryptonite. He must’ve really loved you to try.”

  “What? He didn’t like sushi?”

  “He used to hate it. He’d gotten a stomach virus after eating crab one time, and something about sushi reminded him of being sick.” He shrugged. “Maybe he got over it. What do I know?”

  “He could have, but he never seemed overly enthusiastic, now that I think back.” She couldn’t help smiling at the realization that he’d gone only to make her happy. Learning more about Jordan through Cooper’s perspective, though painful, might be part of her healing journey. Her eyes met his dark gaze for a moment. It might be too dangerous a journey, though.

  “Speaking of food.” He stood and picked up a brown paper sack then offered her his hand. “Let’s eat. We could grab the lantern in my Jeep and take it over to the beach.”

  Fresh sea air sounded like a good idea. “Sure. I’ll get a towel to sit on. Or two.” One seemed way too intimate. After retrieving two blue-striped beach towels from the closet and stuffing them into a tote, she ignored the letters on the table and the pile of items to donate to charity and joined him on the porch. Those heavy subjects would wait until after dinner.

  “Ready?” He offered his arm, probably remembering how she’d almost fainted from hunger last time.

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, trying not to think about how nice it felt there. Arguing she didn’t need help might make them both feel awkward.

  More awkward.

  A gentle breeze swept over them as a few frogs and cicadas began the evening chorus. Not as loud as the nightly cacophony near the Mississippi River in Memphis, but still a comforting sound of home. Pink streaks contoured the sky in the west, and more music met them as they made the short walk down the street to the boardwalk.

  The water lapped much closer to the boardwalk than the day she’d been out. “Tide’s in again, I guess.”

  “Yep.” Cooper kept his gaze straight ahead, scanning the horizon.

  “Did you go out on your boat today?”

  “No time, but I have a few friends who can take turns with the patrol.”

  “Are y’all like the Coast Guard or something?”

  “Just volunteers wanting to save others the grief we’ve gone through.”

  Her mind flashed back to the spot along the river where she’d lost Jordan. A shiver crossed her shoulders at the thought of going back there on patrol to save others.

  A crab scampered as she placed her foot on the sand, its bulging eyes staring at them. “Oh! Digger, you scared me!” The creature’s sideways walk gained a chuckle, though.

  “Digger? Do you know him personally, or do you name everything?” Cooper’s mouth quirked into a sideways smile.

  The crustacean scooped a bit of sand from a hole in disgust, tossed it her way, and then disappeared.

  “He looks like the one I saw shoveling sand the other day.”

  “And you can tell that one from the thousands of others?”

  “Maybe. There was Chloe the crab. She looked sweet but feisty. Big Boy was, well, big, and...” As if summoned, movement caught her eye near a pile of broken bamboo-looking sticks, and two larger crabs emerged. They danced around each other before skittering toward the water.

  “See now, there’s Fred and Ginger.” She couldn’t stop a smile at their funny movements. Until she looked past them down the beach. Her stomach took another plunge, and her feet stopped.

  COOPER CHECKED HER expression then followed her gaze toward the small gathering to the south. A wedding.

  Of course, that’d be his luck. Try to distract Rivers from the wedding song, only to lead her to an actual wedding.

  Nice job, Coop, as usual. The bride and groom saying vows at sunset, a beautiful sight under different circumstances. A sight he tried to not think about too often, either, since he’d pretty much determined to avoid romantic relationships. Too complicated. He’d had no problem steering clear of women.

  Wide blue eyes stared up at him.

  No problem until now, that was. And being with Rivers was more than complicated. His emerging feelings were convoluted on a catastrophic level, considering his family discord.

  Cooper gave her arm a tender squeeze. “You want to go back? It might be too windy out here to eat.” Though the mild breeze felt great.

  Rivers shook her head, her eyes becoming even more luminous in the low light. “I have to keep going. There’s not much other choice, is there?”

  Much other choice? Please, Lord, don’t let her give up on life. He carried enough guilt to last a lifetime, and losing her, too, would be unfathomable. “There are plenty of other places we can go right now.” However, avoiding difficult situations for extended periods of time could be detrimental to her emotional health.

  “Let’s sit here.” She released his arm, spread two towels, then plopped down on one, her posture sagging.

  “If you’re sure.” He joined her and lifted the takeout boxes from a sack plus two bottles of water, placing one of each in front of her, the others before him. “Some cold but tasty boiled shrimp with the usual potatoes, corn, and onions, but Gabby believes in the power of healing foods, so she’s boiled cauliflower, broccoli, mushrooms and even Brussels sprouts.”

  “Brussels sprouts? She is into whole foods all the way.”

  “You don’t have to eat them. It took me a while to get used to the taste.” He picked one up with his fingers, since he’d forgotten to put forks in the bag. Thankfully, Gabby had piled a stack of napkins and even a few finger wipes. “They have a kick, so be careful.”

  He popped one in his mouth, and his eyes immediately teared up. At least the spices distracted him from the weird little balls. It tasted like eating a whole head of cabbage at once, but they were supposedly super healthy.
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  Rivers followed his lead, earning a muffled cough. She grabbed the water bottle, and her eyelashes fluttered as she worked to swallow. “Whoa, those are hot.”

  “Sorry. I guess I’m used to it. The vegetables catch more of the heat than the shrimp, so maybe stick with them.” He offered his water bottle. “You can have mine, if you need it.”

  She waved him off and picked up a shrimp. “I’ll ration my supply.” After peeling a good pile of the crustaceans, she ate one after another. “Good stuff,” she managed between bites.

  “Glad to see you eating like a ravenous shark over there.”

  “Always the critic.”

  A pang of guilt struck through him, but when he studied her face, her lips quirked into a smile. A smile that pretty much undid him. She could ask him for most anything at this moment, and he’d probably hand it over. All his worldly possessions...his kidney...the gallery. He should give her the keys and walk away now. Like this very second. He hadn’t taken a vacation since he’d gotten sober, other than a few mission trips, and he’d had several friends invite him to visit their summer homes. His leaving would surely make things easier for her, wouldn’t it?

  “Let’s ask if we can crash the wedding.” Her voice and strange request slammed into his deliberations.

  “What?” Why would she want to plunge deeper into her pain?

  “You heard me.” Her shrimp cleared from the box—man, she was a fast eater—she closed it and stood. “They’re starting the reception music. Let’s ask if we can dance with them.”

  “Won’t that...?” Make things worse? Remind her of Jordan and the wedding that never happened? He wanted to question her but couldn’t finish, because she’d held out her hand to him and pinned him with her blue gaze.

  Fumbling to close his food and stand, he obeyed her summons and took her hand. The last of the sun’s rays had disappeared, and stars had overtaken the responsibility for lighting the shore. That and the waiting bamboo torches down the beach. After ditching the rest of their meal in the trash, rolling the towels into her bag, and turning on the lantern, they walked arm in arm toward the party. And, considering his track record, they were aiming toward the place of their possible destruction.

  Chapter 16

  “IT’S NOT REALLY CRASHING a wedding when you ask.” Cooper couldn’t seem to stop smiling at the grinning blond dancing before him. “And do you really like this song?”

  Rivers giggled and kept her feet moving to the beat. “‘Play that Funky Music?’ Yeah. My mom loved these old dance songs.”

  “I don’t know about your taste in music. I heard that Justin Timberlake tune you had cranked up earlier.”

  One fist went to her hip. “Hey, are you having fun or what?”

  “I am.” Too much. Rivers had almost immediately found the mother of the bride and asked if they could dance along. The woman offered them a cup of punch and begged them to fix a plate, explaining they’d had a lower turnout due to one of their cousins delivering a baby earlier than expected. They’d taken her up on the punch and a piece of cake, but Rivers had dragged him to the dance area as soon as he’d swallowed the last sugary chunk of icing.

  Thirty minutes later, they still danced—an activity that wasn’t his forte nor in his comfort zone, but he couldn’t seem to say no. No matter the song. At least the young couple’s friends mostly requested fast dance tunes.

  Was this similar to what her wedding to his cousin would’ve been like in Memphis? Under the stars, maybe on the rooftop of a fancy hotel overlooking the Mississippi River? If Brooklyn had any say—and he was sure she did—the venue would’ve been top-of-the-line for her only living child.

  That old guilt and pain kicked up in Cooper’s torso. If only he’d been sober that day with Savannah, maybe he could’ve saved her. If only he’d stopped her from drinking so much. He’d known she was binging, but he didn’t feel he had the right to say anything given his own addiction.

  “What’s wrong?” Rivers leaned her head close to his ear, her soft fingers traced a line on his forearm. “You stopped moving, and the music’s still going.”

  Looking at his feet as if they belonged to someone else—maybe they did now—he shook his head. “Sorry. Lost in thought. I do that.”

  “I do that too.” Her head lingered close. “Creatives. We have a lot in common.”

  Too much in common maybe, but worlds apart. He forced his feet to move again from side to side, but then the song abruptly ended.

  “Better late than never.” She shrugged with a teasing grimace.

  A slow song took its place. Her feet finally halted their graceful steps, and her eyes darted to the skies. Her lips silently moved.

  Was this another of her and Jordan’s songs? “Are you okay?”

  A small smile lifted her lips, and she held both arms toward him in an uneasy offering. “Shall we?”

  An overwhelming and reckless current of emotion pulsed in his chest, but he took her invitation and inched close. So close, her lavender scent and her nearness flooded his senses. His heart had been on lockdown for years, and for good reason. Yet, this woman seemed to be unbolting those shackles with a glance. A touch.

  This was such a mistake. Another mistake in a long line of blunders.

  Lord, help me.

  THIS MIGHT BE A MISTAKE, but something deep within Rivers spoke otherwise. Though she’d argued with God in a quickly-spoken prayer, the nudging toward Cooper was something fierce. He was Jordan’s cousin—the hated and abandoned black sheep of the family she’d been about to marry into. Why would God lead her to him?

  Maybe he simply needed to know he was forgiven. Not only by God, but also by Jordan. Relieving the guilt laid on Cooper might allow him to move forward without feeling he had to pay penance for the rest of his life. He’d been alone and guilt-ridden long enough. That must be why she was here. She needed to help him move on.

  And maybe she needed to do a deeper search of her own heart for places where bitterness had taken up residence.

  Cooper’s arms held her loosely and cautiously, so she moved closer. Inclining her head near his ear, she gathered her courage to release the cleansing words. “Jordan was going to call you. He’d forgiven you. Completely. He missed you. If not for his parents, he would’ve invited you to the wedding. We even talked about you that last day.”

  For an instant, his muscles flinched. His eyes found hers—wide and expressive and hopeful dark eyes, as if searching out the truth of her words.

  She gave a slight nod to affirm it all.

  Relief seemed to wash over his features like a cooling waterfall on a humid Memphis day.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. Speaking freedom felt right, but even so, it was emotionally difficult dredging up that day.

  As if he understood how hard the revelation had been, his embrace enveloped her. He held her close, an offering to absorb her pain and to give his strength. Like a tourniquet to her bleeding, gushing ache for Jordan, Cooper held her tight. And somehow a warm peace filled her, the grief transforming from a debilitating tidal wave to a bittersweet stream.

  Oh, that this peace would last. Not that she ever wanted to forget Jordan, but being able to breathe and eat and live with a new normal would be okay.

  Guilt stabbed at her for wanting to go on living when Jordan couldn’t.

  I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?

  The words Jesus had spoken to his friend Martha in the book of John had been read at the funeral. She even had the first two sentences printed on the cover of the program they’d given out. The verses came to her often, challenging her to trust in her Savior. Jordan wasn’t here on this earth, but he had been a believer, so he wasn’t really dead and gone. That was the crux of her faith, and she had to remember and believe.

  “Now you’ve stopped moving.” Cooper tipped her chin. “Is all this too much? I�
�m worried about you.”

  Her gaze pulled to study him. His beautifully sculptured face lingered near, those dark eyes and that black hair framed by the night sky lighted only by the twinkling stars of the Milky Way. Then her gaze fell to his contoured lips and held there as if some giant magnet drew her.

  “Rivers, throw me a bone or scrap or something. I need to know what’s going on in here.” His fingers grazed her forehead, only increasing the magnetic force pulling her toward him.

  There was no way she could believe the yearning that was going on in her mind, much less tell him.

  Because right now, all she wanted was to kiss this man. Cooper. She wanted to kiss away his years of isolation from his family, his years of being picked on as a child, his years of disappointment for always being considered less than Jordan, his years of emotional pain mixed with the chemical processes and the fallen world that had led him toward the excruciating path of addiction.

  But not only did she want to kiss those hurts away, she wanted to kiss the man who’d rescued her, who’d fed her, who’d made her laugh. The compassionate man who spent his days trying to reach the lost and hurting. The man whose art moved her so.

  But this inclination—no, this formidable craving—had to be wrong. Her emotions had to be muddied with everything going on.

  Cooper was her fiancé’s cousin. It would be wrong to fall for him. Wouldn’t it?

  HE HAD TO DO SOMETHING before he ruined everything. As usual. But the longing to kiss Rivers was drowning him.

  His fingers traced her jaw, hoping she’d say something—anything—to keep him from crossing a line that could never be redrawn.

  He’d suffered through intense cravings and beaten them. He needed to take his thoughts captive.

  Only God could restore his sanity.

  Help. The one word he’d often prayed when nothing else would come.

  The music ended, and in the moment of quiet, the tinkling of his phone reached his buzzing brain.