HIGH TIDE

by Miller, Maureen A.

  Briana tugged the hem of her skirt up to mid thigh.

  Conquer your fears.

  She climbed onto the seawall and felt the breeze assault her. For balance, she splayed her hands out by her sides and then tipped her head back to ponder the half moon. In this pose, the trade winds molded her body, like a hug from the island Gods. The embrace was like no other, and it distracted her from the water lapping so near her feet.

  ***

  Irritated by the absurd whim to stake out a construction site that in effect locked down at dusk, Nick made one last sweep of the waterfront lots and focused on the patterns of the tide. Engrossed by the gentle ebb of the bay, he frowned at water which was traditionally docile, but now rippled in slow, agitated rolls. Perhaps the untrained eye would not have noticed. Several native fishermen already had however, and brought their testimonies forward to his office in Honolulu.

  Reaching the seawall, an organized layer of rocks patched together with thickets of cement that averted the bay, Nick critiqued its construction. He was so absorbed with his inspection he nearly missed the shadow suspended at the far end of the barrier.

  The moon slid from behind a misty veil to reveal a siren with her arms stretched back, her body arched in offering to the sea.

  Motionless, he was entranced by the outline of her body. It conjured up images of goddesses relayed to him by his grandfather. Avid, he traced the curve of her chin, down the soft arch of her throat to high breasts caressed by the wind. At length his eyes slipped down long, poised legs, until without thought, he whispered her name.

  Briana’s head snapped down. She teetered precariously and spun to identify the voice. He took a step closer, gazing up at her perched atop the sea-wall. Her frustrated sigh was unmistakable.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered out of reverence to the peace of twilight.

  For a second, Nick averted his gaze. “I expected to find your workers dumping into the ocean after all the crowds had gone home.”

  Briana simply nodded and turned back towards the sea.

  “No berating on your part?” he questioned.

  “No,” she hesitated. “There was nothing for me to hide and now there’s nothing for me to say.”

  “Briana—”

  Exasperated, she shot him a challenging look over her shoulder.

  “Ms. Holt,” he continued with a droll smirk. “Just because I haven’t caught you, that doesn’t mean you’re innocent.”

  “You know what, Mr. McCord?”

  “Nick,” he grinned.

  “You know that Manale Palms is not responsible for whatever it is you’re looking for. You’re just floundering because you have no clue what’s going on under that beautiful stretch of water.”

  “How insightful.” Nick reached a hand up into his hair. “And how accurate.”

  Seemingly intrigued by his despondency, Briana turned around, careful to maintain her balance. He sensed that she felt at an advantage staring down at him.

  “Don’t take it so hard,” she allayed. “If I can help, if I see anything—”

  “Briana!”

  Startled by his shout, Briana’s mouth dropped open. Fear stamped her expression as a wave surged behind her knees with such a low but relentless force that she toppled forward. Nick caught her and nearly fell back himself. He struggled against the suction of the slick as it endeavored back to sea.

  Retreating on hazardous terrain beneath the pooling stream, Nick hooked an arm beneath Briana’s legs. His other was clasped protectively around her back as he eyed the now placid bay with disbelief. Several more receding steps placed him back on dry ground, where he sensed Briana’s erratic heartbeat against his own.

  “Y-you can put me down now.”

  Securing her close to his chest, he looked down into anxious eyes. Short, erratic breaths raked across her lips.

  “No,” he whispered against her hair. “No, I can’t.”

  The uncharacteristic reaction of the bay troubled him. How could he have missed the unusual swell? Well, that was simple—he had been engrossed with the exquisite siren summoning nightfall.

  Briana trembled in his arms, and even in the encroaching darkness he could see the glint of accusation in her eyes as she searched the bay. And then, incredibly, her head dropped against his shoulder and rested there.

  Nick stood still, attuned with the wind, seeking illumination in its pattern—any rationale for the errant wave he had just witnessed. It was important to get back to his den and research this anomaly. A single uncontrollable wave—perhaps only five feet in height—in itself non-threatening.

  Yet, where did it come from?

  Instead of a grown woman, this could have been a child, alone, playing atop the sturdy seawall.

  Briana stirred and made a soft sound of protest. Gently, he released her legs and let them slide down his until she stood before him.

  ***

  Thankful to feel the ground beneath her feet, Briana was nonetheless anxious by the light touch of Nick’s fingers around her waist. It was getting dark and the streetlights were yards away. Nick was an enigmatic profile, still close enough that their breath mingled. She felt his hand rise as the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek, and his husky voice rumbled in the humid air. “Are you alright?”

  “I—” She glanced down at their legs, so close together that she felt the brush of his thigh. “I lost one of my shoes.”

  “I noticed that,” he whispered.

  “I’ve never seen a wave like that in this bay.” Her voice was hoarse.

  Gazing out on the serene cove, she saw the sprinkling lights of incoming vessels, and the blazing tiki torches of waterfront restaurants. “Not like that—not here.”

  “Not when the sky is crystal clear, the stars are out, and the weather charts are fair for at least fifty miles.” Nick added with a frown. “Look, I’ve got to get back to my lab, there has to be an explanation for this.”

  His hand dropped from Briana’s arm as she staggered back a step.

  “Please find it,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to imagine this happening when children are playing in this park.”

  Nick nodded in agreement, and the words spilled out before he could retract them. “Then, come with me.”

  Nightfall beset them, as she wished she could read his eyes. After a moment’s consideration she tossed aside any valid rejections and whispered, “Okay.”

  There would be time later to analyze her motivations. Right now her heart still hammered with apprehension over the ocean’s brief reprisal, and the memory of Nick’s arms around her.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Be careful on that foot, there might be broken glass around here.”

  “Not on my property,” she vowed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Wind whipped through the open jeep as they drove along the coast. Briana drew her hair up into a ponytail to keep it from lashing against her face.

  “Are you cold? I can put the roof up.”

  “No,” she replied honestly, tilting her head into the air.

  Assaulted by the smell of saltwater and hibiscus, combined with humidity and fleeting patches of cold air—all these sensations made her feel alive.

  She stole a quick look at the driver. The muscles along Nick’s jaw clenched and released as he let go of the steering wheel with one hand to rub at the tension behind his neck. She had the absurd desire to replace his hand with her own—to ease the pain with her own caress.

  Uneasy, she shifted her attention back to the black ocean. Nick’s silence made her uncomfortable only because he seemed anxious. That anxiety extended to her as she thought of what just transpired tonight.

  In her estimation, she had not judged the height of the seawall properly, yet another mistake in construction that could have cost innocent children injury or worse. Nick was probably sitting there, condemning her right now. She tipped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes to feel the wind tickle her throat...and mutely beat hi
m to it.

  In her periphery, she felt his discreet glimpses her way. She tried to focus on the poorly lit road, and barely noticed the gap in the trees as Nick banked the jeep onto an unmarked dirt lane. With rugged tenacity, the vehicle crept down a rutted path until the gleaming ocean halted their progress. As he pulled up before the gnarled trunk of a banyan tree she heard him say, “Hang on. Let me go turn on some of the outside lights.”

  Listening to his solid stride, Briana wanted to call out and say that she could see just fine in the wake of the moon, but held her tongue, allowing a moment to regroup and study the beachfront bungalow. Before her, the Pacific Ocean glimmered beneath the stars, but the rest of the property was guarded by a stockade of trees. Coconut palms and thick banyans offered refuge from humankind. Right here, before this gleaming stretch of sand, Briana truly felt she was in another world.

  The lights that Nick turned on were a chain of six-foot tall tiki torches planted in a methodic path down to the beach. The single-story bungalow was flanked on three sides by a wraparound lanai accessed via spacious French doors.

  Nick’s hand flicked a match as he lit the two remaining torches on the porch. He jogged down the few steps and crossed the yard towards the jeep.

  “Okay, there are a lot of ruts in the ground. I wanted you to be able to see without that shoe on.”

  Extending his hand to assist her from the jeep, Briana first stared at it and then moved up to eye him incredulously. “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me? I thought I was the enemy.”

  A grin flashed in the torchlight. “Maybe I’m hoping to get lucky?”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  He chuckled, and stepped back. “Don’t worry Ms. Holt, you’re safe with me. I’m not going to touch you.”

  That answer didn’t particularly mollify her.

  “Why?” She eyed him. “You don’t like women very much, do you?”

  “I love women. They just never seem to work out. I’m on a self-imposed sabbatical, if you will.” Even in the dark, his smirk flared. “And I’m not about to fall off the wagon with you.”

  Briana swung her legs out of the jeep and tested the ground for rocks with her bare toes. “Good, I feel better now.”

  “I’m serious. Be careful over here. There are a ton of shells in the ground.” Nick disregarded her cynical look and wrapped his fingers around her arm to guide her towards the deck. He reached past her for the double doors, and ducked inside to flip on a lamp, bathing the cottage in a soft amber glow.

  “You don’t lock the doors?”

  “Most people don’t even notice the driveway. I don’t get many visitors.”

  Briana stood just inside the entryway, taking in the polished wooden floorboards, balsa furniture, and rattan fans. It was decent décor for a staid bachelor, a tag she placed on him after a quick glimpse of his ring finger. “That’s because your demeanor can be obtrusive at times.”

  Nick’s back was to her as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and then tucked his long body down to search the refrigerator. He met her eyes over the rim of the door.

  “Obtrusive, huh?”

  “Mmmmm. But then you go and do or say something nice just to keep me off balance.”

  “Is it working? Are you off balance?”

  “I fell into your arms, didn’t I?” The comment was meant to be flippant, but it brought back the same intensity to his expression that she witnessed in the jeep.

  “Beer, wine, guava juice or coffee?” His voice was gruff, distracted.

  “Coffee,” she said. “But I’ll make it. You’ve got a lot of work to do, I imagine.”

  Nick wavered, leaning his hip against the counter. Wrinkles of concentration flanked his eyes, and his mouth was set in a grim line as he measured her.

  “You could have been seriously hurt out there.”

  The grave look on his face was contagious. Briana sobered and recalled the sensation of the wave against the back of her legs, collapsing them. In a flash, the memory hurled her back in time as she struggled to stay above water, watching her parents tread only a few feet away, urging her to kick, kick.

  A wave came, and they were gone.

  “I don’t want anyone to get hurt out there, Nick.” Her voice was hoarse. “Do what you have to do to ensure that.”

  ***

  The drum of a keyboard, and Nick’s muttered exasperation enabled Briana to track him down to a cozy, but crammed den in the corner of the bungalow. This was perhaps the only spot without access to the lanai, and because of its limited windows, was cast in shadow. Only the glow of the computer monitors illuminated it.

  Clearing her throat, she set the coffee mugs down on the vacant corner of his desk. Everything else was consumed with graphs, text books, and reams of notes.

  Nick sat back. “Thanks.” He motioned with his hand. “Come here and take a look at this.” Stretching, he wheeled over another chair, as Briana slid into the narrow gap and tried not to notice her leg inadvertently brush against his.

  “Did you find something?” She leaned forward, intrigued by the array of charts and simulations on the screen.

  “There’s no record of unusual seismic activity.”

  “Seismic activity!” She dipped closer to the lucent display. “It was just a wave. A small one. No one but us even noticed it.”

  ***

  Nick laced his fingers together and watched Briana. Her face was aglow with the blue reflection of the monitor. Her hair tumbled forward, nearly obscuring his view. When she turned to look at him, he was rapt by the slanted azure eyes, trying to discount the very physical effect that gaze had on him.

  “They noticed alright,” he remarked. “The fishermen would have detected the anomaly, and many a tale of angered Gods are probably spinning in some of the seedier bars in Kaneohe right now. The point isn’t so much the size, but where it came from, and if more will return.”

  Briana reached for the coffee mug and sipped from the steaming rim. “Why is it always about size with men?”

  He laughed. “Ahh, actually I believe it’s always about size with women. But in this case we will have to ensure it doesn’t get bigger. It’s accepted that the North Shore will encounter anywhere from ten to forty foot waves, and knowing this, it’s accommodated for. But take waves of that impact on the Windward side, where the livelihood of many Hawaiians depends on the tranquility of the sea, and the tourists depend on gentle beaches for their children...”

  Rubbing at the base of his skull, he sighed. “I know I’m getting carried away, but I don’t want any surprises, that’s all.”

  “Okay, so what do we do?”

  “We?” Shifting forward, he brushed his calf against hers. The contact was kinetic.

  “Don’t you see that by helping you find the source of the problem,” Briana declared. “I distract you from snooping around my site.”

  It couldn’t be helped, his gaze dropped right into the collar of her silky blouse, and lower to the skirt that concealed only a third of her endless legs. “Oh, you distract me alright.”

  He could hear her breath draw in. The sensuous sweep of her eyes produced effects that were becoming difficult to hide. In an attempt to do so, he grabbed his coffee cup and rested it atop his thigh. Careful not to spill it, he wheeled towards a stack of pages droning out of the laser printer.

  “Nothing. No volcanic activity, no underwater landslides. The weather checks out. There are no occurrences further out in the Pacific that would just be reaching us now, the ocean is—”

  “A shrewd predator.”

  Nick’s chair tipped forward with a click. He watched her for a moment, and then said softly, “That’s an unusual depiction, care to elaborate?”

  She shrugged to deflect the comment. Edgy, she searched the tight walls of the den, eluding his gaze.

  Newspaper clippings, Geology and Earth Science degrees, and a lovely painting of Waimea at sunset spanned the wood-paneled wall. A beach in soft strokes of gold and pe
ach seemed to come alive with the rustling sound of the banyan leaves outside. On the canvas, a figure was concealed within a thicket of arched coconut palms.

  “The painting is beautiful, did you do that?” she asked.

  Nick looked up at the artwork. “No. My mother did.”

  Fascinated, she rose and traced her fingers along the redwood frame. “It’s beautiful. Has she done more?”

  Bemused, he nodded. “There are a few in the living room.”

  “Who’s the boy behind the trees?”

  “You have good eyes.” He was impressed. “Mom blended him with the shadows, secretive little devil that he was—always hiding when she called, always wanting to stay by the shore and watch the sun set, then wait and watch it rise again—”

  “You.” It was a statement, not a guess, and Nick confirmed it with a tip of his head.

  “Is she—where does she live?”

  “Hawaii Kai. Got herself a fancy little condo—tons of friends. She’s sold enough of these to make herself comfortable.”

  “That’s nice.” Briana turned around. “Your father—?”

  “He passed away last year.”

  “I’m sorry.” She seemed earnest.

  “He was a good man,” Nick managed. “He came to Hawaii looking for peace, and he found my mother.”

  That made her smile, but he could tell that the subject in general kicked up her anxiety. She switched her attention back to the walls and settled on the newspaper article regarding the landslide.

  Geologist, presumed dead, located after two days, buried under avalanche.

  In the picture, Nick was stoic and grim. Beside him was the striking portrait of the woman he was trying to exorcise. Even in black and white she gleamed with glossy dark hair and olive skin. He watched Briana’s eyes coast over the caption beneath it. Meleana Kane. Meleana was listed as the sole survivor of a USGS Hazards Team sent to evaluate the slope stability of the Kohala Gulch.

  “But—” Briana protested as she read, “—but, she wasn’t the sole survivor? You are here.”

  “I keep that clipping up there for a reason.”

  She jolted, having been so engrossed she didn’t notice Nick standing behind her.