Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3)

by James, Kimberly

I was about halfway through my bottle of water when a gray, four-door sedan pulled up outside. The driver parked in a handicap spot closest to the building, though he didn’t get out. He sat in the front seat in his dark sunglasses, sipping coffee from a to-go cup. As if I needed any more evidence my dad was in freak-out-over-protective mode. I should be thankful he’d only sent one car, or worse that he hadn’t come himself.

  I downed the rest of my water and laid my head back. I refused to close my eyes. As long as they were open, and I stayed in the here and now, I wouldn’t have to relive those horrifying moments over again. Hear the roar in Jamie’s voice. Feel Michael’s hand ripped from mine. See Jamie on top of him, delivering blow after crushing blow, as if he were some kind of rabid animal. Michael could be dead for all I knew. He had looked dead. And I had stood stupefied and watched it happen.

  The plastic bottle crinkled under my fingers. My chest felt tight as though my heart were too big and a hollowness centered itself in the pit of my stomach.

  I wished my mom would hurry.

  * * *

  My mom brought coffee—white chocolate mocha and a huge, sticky cinnamon roll. When I opened the bag, the car filled with the sweet smell of gooey icing and cinnamon, reminding me how hungry I was.

  “Thanks, Mom.” She looked tired. Her eyes sported dark circles of sleep deprivation and her mascara free lashes were spiked from our teary reunion. She wore sweats and a t-shirt with a pair of slip-on shoes. So not my mom. “I’m sorry you worried.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” She had a death grip on the steering wheel. Her face was lined around her eyes and lips as though she'd aged ten years overnight. Questions ticked behind her eyes. Unfortunately, I didn’t have many of answers.

  “Tired and hungry, but yeah, I’m fine.” My eyes trained to the rearview mirror. The car my dad sent followed close behind as we pulled onto highway 98 and headed east toward home.

  “I brought you some clothes if you want to change.” She nodded over her shoulder, indicating a duffle bag lying in the back seat.

  “Thanks.” I nibbled at the cinnamon roll. “How freaked out is Dad? How did you even find out…" I stalled, reluctant to say too much.

  “Noah called your dad and told him what happened. They looked for hours and couldn’t find you.”

  No surprise there. Who would have thought to look so far down the coast and on land? Now that I was with my mom and in her car, the whole night felt as if it were a crazy messed up dream. Then I remembered the beating Michael had endured—definitely a nightmare.

  “How’s Michael? Is he okay?”

  Her lips compressed into a thin line and her eyes focused on the road. “They expect to release him from the hospital in a few hours. Jamie beat him badly, but he’ll recover.”

  My head fell back and I was finally able to close my eyes now that I knew Michael would be okay. I wondered if my mom saw Jamie if she’d still be calling him by his name. I could think of a few other words she might use.

  Animal. Monster. Beast.

  I wished I had my phone so I could call Michael, though I wasn’t sure what I could say that could ever make up for what happened. Sorry, my husband's not dead after all. And, oh yeah, he’s turned into a monster and apparently wants to kill you.

  “What did Dad tell his parents? Not the truth, surely?”

  “A modified version of it and for some reason Michael went along with it.” She glanced at me a sideways. “He seems to be protective of you.”

  “But you’re sure Michael is okay?” I wasn’t the one who needed protecting.

  “Yes. He’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you.”

  I put the uneaten half of the cinnamon roll back in the bag and brushed the crumbs off my lap. Buildings and trees sped by my window. Fast-food restaurant signs, shopping centers filled with retail stores, and beyond that the surface of the sound gleamed under the morning sun.

  Water fingered its way throughout our community. Liquid roads that bled into the Gulf, offering breathers passage miles inland. Jamie could be right there, behind the skate park, following in the murky depths. He could be hundreds of miles away. I didn’t know which I preferred. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that wasn’t afraid of him. What he had done to Michael? Had that been because of me? Had he singled Michael out because he was the only lander, or had he somehow known Michael was with me?

  I should have learned by now never to get too comfortable because life could irrevocably change with the smallest details: The plus sign on a pregnancy test. A quiet knock on a bedroom door. Sad, sympathetic eyes. A sudden gush of warm, sticky blood. A simple kiss. The reappearance of someone you thought lost to you forever.

  The cinnamon roll sat heavy in my stomach, my coffee too sweet on my tongue.

  More to give myself a distraction than any real need to change clothes, I crawled over the seat and rummaged through the duffle bag—t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and clean panties. Ignoring any cars close enough to see inside the window, I pulled my blouse over my head, replacing it quickly with the t-shirt. My legs were a little sore, and it took a minute to slide in and out of my jeans. My mom had included a small bottle of body splash, and I squirted myself, the scent of green apple mixing with the cinnamon.

  My mom had put her sunglasses on, but I could tell she was watching me as much as she was watching the road. Waiting for me to break down and fall apart in the wake of the new development that was the drama of my life. I was determined not to.

  I’d gotten lazy and allowed Michael to touch a place I’d kept untouchable. That kiss had sparked something I hadn’t felt in years.

  Hope.

  The instant I’d heard Noah yell Jamie’s name that hope had vanished. My heart had frozen, and in its place sat an iceberg, lopsided and forever scarred, refusing to feel anything. And now I was afraid to.

  Once I settled back into the front seat, I reached for my seatbelt. My mom reached for me. Her hands were always cold.

  “I’m not going to let him hurt you again.” I’d always thought my mom too beautiful to be fierce. She looked it now, the perfect line of her jaw set in determination under the haphazard messy bun. I’d never seen her so disheveled.

  “I don’t think he wants to.” I squeezed her hand. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. You’re my daughter. I love you.”

  My chest ached hearing her words. That was the thing about icebergs, they could melt. I pulled my hand back into my lap and we rode the rest of the way home in silence.

  Noah’s Bronco was parked in the driveway. Seeing it caused an audible crack in my otherwise fortified defenses. I was out of the car before it rolled to a stop.

  Finally, someone I could blame. Because in all the haze and confusion of the last twelve hours, one fact stood out as I thought about last night. Noah hadn’t been shocked to see Jamie. He’d yelled Jamie’s name well before reaching him.

  Noah had known Jamie was alive and he hadn’t told me.

  * * *

  I bounded up the front steps. Before I reached the door, it flew open and I collided with my dad coming out. His hands on my upper arms were gentle and the eyes that raked over me were cloaked with concern.

  “You’re okay?” he asked.

  Now that he was in front of me, I realized I wanted him to yell. Demand a report. Grill me for information. Treat me like one of his men and not like his daughter who’d been through a semi-traumatic experience, because then I’d have to act like a daughter who’d been through a traumatic experience. I could be that girl in front of my mom, but with my dad it was different. I’d always been determined to wear a brave face for my dad. He respected bravery. He respected courage. Two things I really needed right now.

  “I’m okay. Really.” He hugged me and I nestled my face against his neck, convincing myself I spoke the truth. For all his starch and hard lines, my dad gave really good hugs. Mom closed ranks, sandwiching me between them, and it seemed I
was the one person who could bring them together. When we walked in the front door, it was almost as if we were a family again.

  I was tired and dirty, and I smelled like the ocean. I smelled like Jamie. My skin felt like a pie crust, flaky and dry. The stairs in the foyer leading to my room tempted me. Breaking free from my parents protection, I searched for Noah.

  He was in the living room, staring out the glass doors where the pool shimmered under the morning sun. The bay lay beyond, glittering prettily, potentially hiding a monster. I wondered if Noah too thought Jamie could be out there.

  “Noah.”

  When he turned to face me, I was confronted with those green eyes, and when he walked toward me, his smell enveloped me. That smell I’d been desperate to forget and knew I never would. It was the smell of otherworldliness, the smell of difference, the smell of a monster.

  “Are you okay?” Noah reached for me and I shied away, eyes narrowing, daring him to lay one finger on me.

  “I will never forgive you for keeping this from me.” I slapped him though he barely flinched, so I hit him again, a punch to the chest followed quickly by another.

  “You knew.” I threw another punch, connecting with his chin. He made no move to defend himself as I continued my attack, my control slipping with each connection of my fist until I lost all sense.

  We’d shared heart-wrenching grief. He’d seen the darkest part of me and then he’d lied—betrayal of the worst sort. He stood there in his guilt, taking each blow as punishment.

  Why was this happening? Why? When everything finally seemed right. My mom's hands wrestled against my arms, but this couldn’t be contained—whatever this was. This madness had a name. This had more names than I could count. How could I feel so much and so little at the same time?

  Finally I gave up, burying my face in my hands and hiccuped on a cry that refused to come. I was beyond tears. These feelings were too deep for something so ordinary as tears.

  Eventually I dropped my hands, my eyes finding Noah’s.

  “What is he?” I begged as if Noah could tell me what I had seen was a lie, that Jamie wasn’t that thing. And then I felt ashamed because part of me wanted him to tell me it wasn’t Jamie. But that would mean he was still dead and honestly, in that moment, I couldn’t decide which I preferred.

  Something vibrated from the pocket of his shorts, breaking the sudden and deafening silence that had descended with my question.

  “Here.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out my phone and held it out to me, his face blotched where I’d hit him, his eyes reflecting my own anguish. “I’m sorry.”

  I snatched the phone from his hand without looking at it. He more than anyone knew what I’d endured. What we’d endured together.

  “How long have you known Jamie was… alive?” A monster. Something I didn’t understand.

  “A few weeks.” He wouldn't even look me in the eye when he confessed he'd been lying to me for weeks.

  “Weeks?” Now I understood the looks he’d been giving me. His tendency lately to avoid me. I never would have thought he could keep this from me for that long. I never would have believed him capable of keeping this from me at all.

  My dad expelled a long breath behind me. I’d almost forgotten my parents were here.

  “You should have trusted me, Noah,” I said. “You had no right to keep this from me.”

  “Did you see him?” He held his arms rigid at his sides. “How could I tell you when I didn’t understand it myself? Last night was the closest I’ve gotten to him.”

  We stared at one another, nearly two years of grief rolling between us.

  “Does your mother know?” The subtle hitch in my dad’s voice caused me to turn and look at him.

  “Jamie showed up at the house last week. She was there.” Noah’s tone had an edge to it, as though he was answering questions he’d rather not. A hostile witness. And I could understand. What Jamie was now, if people found out, could change everything. The they’s wouldn’t leave something like Jamie to simple obscurity. They’d want answers. They’d want him buried. They’d want him hidden and kept secret. Or worse, they’d want him dead.

  “And you didn’t think to pick up the phone and call me?” I heard the note of censure in my dad’s tone mixed with something else. He was angry, but he was also hurt. Like me, he thought he had gained Noah’s trust. We were family. At least we thought we were.

  “I thought about it.” Noah stood defiantly, eyes locking with my dad's.

  “Damn it, Noah. Jamie could have hurt Erin.”

  “Jamie is not going to hurt Erin,” Noah said, his jaw clenched.

  “That was an awfully big risk to take with my daughter’s safety. Are you that sure?” My dad had stepped around me and squared off with Noah.

  “You of all people can’t believe Jamie would want to hurt her.” Noah’s voice steadily rose in volume.

  “But he’s not really Jamie anymore, is he?” my dad put to him, condemnation in his tone.

  “He is.” Noah looked past my dad and right at me. “He is Jamie.”

  Noah would defend his brother until his last breath. But I knew Noah well enough to see the signs of his doubt. A not quite surety in his stance and the mild wariness in his eyes. He wanted to believe. It was that belief fueling his arguments. His attention shifted back to my dad. “You can’t believe he would want to harm her.”

  “Not intentionally. Do you know how easy it would be for him to get in this house?”

  They continued to argue and I sat on the couch and let them because I had no idea what else to do. I certainly wasn’t going to tell them it was too late, that Jamie had already been here. I was pretty sure that would get me banished to somewhere far, far away like Idaho.

  Weeks? My dreams might not have been dreams at all—my wild imaginings of monsters in the lake. The longer they argued, the more convinced I became it had been Jamie in the lake the first day of school. Isn’t that what my first fleeting thought had been? I’d felt him. I'd smelled him. And he’d been in my room. I was sure of that too.

  “You know what, Noah? All this might have been avoided if you’d told me,” I said from my spot on the couch.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I could find him. Fix him.”

  Fix him? This was Jamie we were talking about. My husband.

  “Erin, you might believe he won’t hurt you, but he did hurt Michael. Whether Noah wants to admit it or not, Jamie coming back has potentially put the whole community in danger. I think you should go stay with your mother.”

  “What?” I nearly jumped off the couch. I hadn’t seen that coming, not that I had anything against staying with my mother, but she didn’t live as close to the water. Jamie might not be able to find me. Whether I wanted him to didn’t bear questioning. Of course I wanted him to.

  “Just until we figure this out. It's too easy for him to get to you here.”

  “No, Dad. I’m staying here, in my room.” In the house where Jamie knew how to find me.

  “It’s the safest—"

  “No. I won’t let you make this decision for me. He doesn’t want to hurt me.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he told me.” I turned to my mom for support. Twelve hours ago I had been getting ready for a date with a boy I thought I could like, and now here I sat, listening to my dad and my still brother-in-law arguing over whether my husband was a threat to me. “Mom, I can’t let this change everything. Not again.”

  “Can I talk to you, Marshall? Outside.” My mom was already heading for the doors leading onto the patio. She stopped in front of me and leaned over, kissing my cheek.

  “You look tired. Get some rest. I’ll check on you later, bring you back some kung pao chicken?”

  “Thanks,” I said, relieved she understood. “Love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetie.”

  My dad glowered at me for a minute but eventually followed her outside, pausing long enough to shake a finge
r at Noah. “You and I are not done.”

  Noah and I watched as my dad closed the door behind him then Noah collapsed on the couch beside me.

  “I’m sorry it went down like this," he said, voice weary. His eyes, when they met mine, were full of doubt. Despite the assurances he'd given my dad, he'd been worried about me. Worried about Jamie hurting me. How could he not after what Jamie had done to Michael?

  “Weeks? How could you not tell me?” I asked.

  “Because I honestly didn’t know how.” He ran his hands over his hair then dropped his arms. “Because it didn’t seem like it would be good news to you right now, considering what he is, and I didn’t want you hurt again. That's the last thing I want. To see you get hurt."

  “What happens now?” My voice shook with the unknown. I was still married. This place of contentment I'd fought so hard to reach had been yanked out from under me.

  “I don’t know.” He let his head fall back on the couch. He looked worn out, his usually bright eyes dull and drained.

  “Well, you were right about him not being dead.” Noah had always insisted Jamie wasn’t dead. And when he’d left to go look for him, I had hated him for keeping my hopes alive.

  His head lobbed sideways and his eyes pierced mine. “Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

  How could knowing someone I loved was alive produce the same feelings as when I'd been told they were dead? That same empty nothingness, the same sense of being lost and floundering.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.” I stifled a yawn and fell over on the cushions. “Go home, Noah. I’m tired and so are you.” My lids were already closing. I should take a shower first, but I lacked the energy.

  “You’ll call me if Jamie… if you see him.”

  “He’s already been here.” I hadn’t wanted to confide that to anyone but despite Noah’s secret keeping, I thought he should know.

  “What?” He seemed surprised and cast a wild glance out the back doors as though he expected Jamie to come striding up the yard. Wouldn’t that send my mom and dad into orbit? The image caused me to shiver.