Watermark (The Emerald Series Book 3)

by James, Kimberly

  He startled her. When she saw him, she stopped, her hand still on the door, the look on her face confirming his suspicions. For a few beats of time all he could do was stare at her, hoping he was wrong. Wishing he was wrong.

  She moved toward him, her gait stiff. She looked so small and fragile, and the need to break through this flimsy barrier and take her in his arms rose up so strong it was all he could do not to succumb. It was too soon. He was better. His mind was putting the pieces of his life back together and revealing them at a steady pace, but it was still too soon. He wasn’t whole. Not yet. He couldn’t risk the Deep calling him back.

  Jamie's eyes traveled from Erin's face, away from those haunting eyes and down where her hand spread over her stomach in a protective gesture. He felt sick, the meager food they provided him in danger of coming back up.

  She stopped and he wanted to wail. She wasn’t close enough, not nearly close enough. She averted her face and he saw her shudder. Watched as her skin pebbled and the fine hairs on her arms rose.

  Look at me. He needed to see her eyes.

  He'd only meant to pound on the barrier once. But she ignored him, keeping her face turned away, refusing to come any closer. He pounded again and she jumped at the sound. Still she ignored him, closing herself off from him. He sensed her drifting away, going to some place he couldn’t follow. He pounded harder, the slam of his fist vibrating the whole room.

  When she still wouldn’t look at him, a scream ripped from his throat, echoing in the confined space. It went on and on until her eyes slammed shut, and he saw the tears that escaped through her tightly held lids. Smelled the salt in them so strong he tasted it on his tongue. Those tears tore something open inside of him, and when his scream died, his whole body quaked. She hurt and he couldn't help her. He wrestled himself back under control before he scared her. Before they came in here and shot him with needles and made it where he couldn’t think anymore. They liked to do that, steal his mind. But he needed his mind. He couldn’t risk leaving this place until he had it back.

  Finally she turned her face to him and what he saw there made his eyes burn. His chest burned. Grief strangled the breath right out of him. Her eyes widened as she took him in and he knew she saw it, the beast lurking under his skin, so newly tamed and not nearly tamed enough. The beast begged for freedom, an escape to the hurt coursing through him. She was hurting and he couldn't bear to see it. But he couldn’t give in to it. If he did, he would lose her forever. So he fought the urge back. Strangled the feelings.

  He wasn’t a monster.

  He wasn’t a father.

  He saw the moment she found her courage and walked toward him again, her steps careful. He ate up her progress, curbing his desire to tear this place down. Her bravery inspired his own. He almost crumbled when she dropped her chin, as though she were afraid to meet his eyes, as if she expected him to blame her. But she had to know he wouldn’t blame her. If anyone was to blame, it was him.

  He slid his hand over the glass and pressed it in front of her abdomen, and as he did, his mind offered him another piece of his life.

  His bed. Erin’s warm body. The kiss he’d placed on her lips and then on the small mound of her stomach where his child grew. Their child. The promise he’d whispered in the pre-dawn hour to come back to her. Watching her snuggle back under the covers and the kiss he pressed to her temple when she’d fallen back asleep. The feel of his hand in her hair.

  Jamie closed his eyes at the memory as a tremor ran down his arms. He'd lost so much and he'd been oblivious. When he opened his eyes again, he saw her in a new light, with new eyes. He saw the strength that hadn’t been there before. She was no longer a girl but a woman, looking at him with those deep brown eyes that had always put so much trust in him. When he was better he would tell her. When this wall was no longer between them he would tell her. He loved her. He had come back for her.

  “We had a baby girl,” she said, and the tremble in her voice nearly broke his resolve. It might have been worth it to tear the building down, damn the consequences. “I named her Lyla. You said you liked Lyla."

  Her chin dropped and her shoulders sagged under the unseen weight of her grief, and he wanted so badly to catch her in his arms and feel this new person she’d become. Those round, sullen eyes tore a hole right through his heart, and for a fleeting second he was sorry he’d come back. Sorry he’d hurt her by doing so. He cleared his throat, his mind straining for the right words. He opened his mouth to speak but the words clogged anyway. He searched her eyes until he found himself. He would always find himself in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and to him the words sounded perfectly clear.

  21

  I didn’t visit Jamie the next day. I needed to be away from him after telling him about our baby. A moment had passed yesterday when renewed grief had overcome me. I’d felt lost and so much like that girl of sixteen who’d wanted to die. I didn’t want to be that girl anymore. I refused to let Jamie make me feel like that girl, no matter how happy I was he was alive. No matter how happy I was he was getting better. He had to know I’d changed. I’d needed a day to remember I’d changed.

  You have choices.

  I still wanted to believe that.

  Like I had so many times during the last eighteen months when I needed to find myself, I'd come to the lake. The days were still warm even if the nights were cooling off, and in another month it would be too cold to get out on the water without a wetsuit. The dip of my paddle soothed my grief as I glided over the water. Luna had come out to play and now and then I would see her little nose rippling through the surface. I'd tossed her a treat I'd had in my pocket and she'd gobbled it up, after playing with it of course.

  With one pull of the paddle I steered toward the dock and my breath caught with surprise when I saw Michael sitting on the bench watching me. He was dressed for basketball practice, a sky-blue jersey over a pair of gray shorts. His hair was shorter than the last time I had seen him but still scruffy around the ears. It had only been four days but it felt like a lifetime. From my vantage point on the lake I couldn't see any of the bruises on his face. I hoped that meant they were better.

  Michael had continued to text and send me Snapchats asking how I was, asking to see me. Those snippets of conversation meant more to me than I was willing to admit. He'd been a part of me moving forward, and I was hesitant to let go of the friendship he offered, refusing to feel guilty about.

  I had put a half-hearted effort into the school assignments Ally delivered to me daily, but it was obvious the effort was wasted. I couldn't concentrate. I'd missed so many volleyball practices I'd forfeited my place as captain and my spot on the team was in jeopardy. I had a voicemail on my phone from Coach Hall that I'd been afraid to listen to. In a few weeks, the season would be over. I tried not to blame Jamie for the disruption, the way he'd highjacked my afterlife by coming back. It wasn't his fault. He was as much of a victim of the circumstances as I was. But the seed of resentment was there, as tiny as it was. Where had all my choices gone?

  "Hey," I called to Michael as I paddled for the dock. "Your face looks better." The bruises had settled into a molten yellowish-green, and I thought they'd be completely gone in a few days. He got up and helped me haul my board on the dock. "And your wrist?"

  "It's good. I get to play tonight," he said, keeping his eyes on my face as he bent to lay my board down before he reclaimed his seat. "We have a practice game. You should come."

  "I don't think my dad would go for that. I can't imagine what people are saying." I sat beside him, angling my face to his. "What are they saying?"

  "Depends on who you ask," he said, lips curling in a sly smile. "Derrick has an ax to grind and his shit isn't worth listening to. And then there's the romantics who have dubbed you and Jamie Beauty and the Beast." He scoffed at that. "My favorite one is that all these beings turn into the Swamp Thing at the full moon."

  I'd avoided the news and the internet and social media,
feeling like a girl in a bubble, separate from the outside world. If all hell and broken loose since Jamie's shocking reappearance, I was oblivious to it, and I planned on keeping it that way for the foreseeable future.

  "So have they put two and two together about you getting beaten up?"

  "Yeah, but it's worked to my advantage. I'm kind of the big man on campus now. Most people got a good look at Jamie, and even though I got my ass kicked, the fact that I lived to tell the tale kind of makes me a badass. The girls are throwing themselves at me."

  I didn't doubt that for a second. I'd done the same thing after I'd gotten over my initial resistance to his understated charm.

  “You know the first day of school when I ran into you?” I ducked my head, watching the water shimmer under the slight breeze. “I thought I saw him. Jamie. I thought I heard him. And then I thought I was crazy.” I lifted my head, meeting his warm brown eyes. “Now that I know he’s alive. That he was…" A monster, I refrained from saying. "I think it was him.”

  “Guess I’m lucky he didn’t come after me then.” He shrugged and I repressed a shudder, thinking about how Michael had jumped in the lake and gone after my board with Jamie lurking underneath the surface.

  “Guess you wish you never made that bet,” I said.

  “Not for a second. Not even when I was lying in the emergency room feeling like I’d been hit by a truck.” His eyes were so serious, the intensity in them so strong it made my heart pound. "I can't believe that it would be unsafe for you to come to a game," Michael said.

  "You don't know. Things have happened in the past. People getting hurt. And now with people actually scared." I paused. "You saw Jamie."

  "I guess I can understand you being uncomfortable," he said. "After the whole dead fish thing."

  "I'd forgotten all about that until now. But that's exactly what I mean. I was targeted based on association. I imagine it would be worse now."

  "So does that mean you're not coming back to school?" he asked.

  "Probably not." There it was again, that little rumble of resentment. The goals of my whole year blowing up, leaving my shit unfinished.

  "That's too bad."

  "I'm not quitting," I said in my defense. "My priorities have changed. It's hard to care about school with Jamie back and him being…" I was about to say sick but that wasn't accurate.

  "A monster?" Michael supplied.

  "That's not fair, Michael," I said, but it was. It had been a monster that had attacked him.

  "I'm sorry. You're right." He held up his hands in concession. "Your friends, before Jamie showed up anyway, were cool."

  "I hate it for Jamie. That people saw him. They won't forget. Even if he gets better, some people will always see him as a monster."

  "How do you see him then?" he asked as if he thought I wore blinders, as if I didn't know what people saw, what they thought.

  "I loved him.”

  "Loved?" His eyebrows rose, those sweet eyes full of sympathy, raising questions I couldn't answer.

  "I better go." I leaned over to pick up my board.

  "Let me help you this time," he said and bent beside me.

  "I can get it."

  "I know you can," he said gently. He picked up my board and tucked it under his arm, securing it against his side. He handled the gangly board easily, and I couldn't help compare his lean, lanky physique to Jamie's overt bulkiness. Michael's boyish face and puppy dog eyes to Jamie's sharp cheekbones, harsh jaw, and cool green eyes. Opposites in every way. "You can grab the paddle."

  Michael was careful not to smack me off the boardwalk as we made our way back to the parking lot. It was a two-foot drop on either side and the ground was thick with palmetto bushes and tiny-leaved oaks and no telling how many creepy crawlies. While he hoisted my board on top of my Tahoe, I reached in back for the bungee cords.

  Once the board was secured he asked, “We can still do this, right? Be friends?"

  I'd been thinking about that very thing paddling over the coppery lake before I'd known he was there. How I liked the friends I'd made, especially him. How I liked spending time with them. How I liked this place with its dark water, preferring it to the open endlessness of the beach and Gulf. It was quiet here without the constant roar of the waves. The breeze blew gentler, tingling through the leaves on the trees. The lake suited me better. I was comfortable here. There were things in my life now I wasn't willing to give up.

  I walked around to the driver's side door. Michael opened it for me, and before I climbed inside, I smiled into his boyish face.

  "Yeah, we can be friends. We are friends."

  * * *

  When I did show up to see Jamie the next day, the eyes that greeted me were filled with so much doubt, as if he believed he’d done something wrong. After only one day the changes in his appearance and manor were dramatic. The old Jamie was there in the slant of his eyes and cheekbones, and in the set of his jaw and the fading of his skin. It was a relief. Then I felt horrible because here I was trying not to be the girl I'd been before, impatient for him to be the man he’d been.

  I wondered, and not for the first time, how long my life would be in this limbo, this static hold. How long I'd have to tread water.

  "I missed… you," he said. He put his hands on the barrier. I may never get used to the size of them. "Are you okay?"

  He was slowly regaining his speech even if it was only a word or two at a time, spoken haltingly and with a lot of thought.

  "Yes," I nodded. "You look better."

  “I want… to touch you.” Jamie rested his forehead on the clear wall, his face angled down to mine. Impatience sparked his eyes, and I could almost see the pieces of his mind falling back into place with every hour that passed.

  “I want that too.”

  We stared at our hands, and I watched transfixed as his eyes traveled up the length of my arm to my shoulder and up my neck, stopping on my mouth.

  “I never forgot,” he said, his brow descending in concentration. “How beautiful you are.”

  I smiled. “So are you.”

  His eyes lifted to mine and it was strange to see the self-doubt plaguing them. That was new, nothing like the Jamie I remembered. He'd had faults, but lack of self-confidence had never been one of them. “I’m a monster.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re Jamie.” My chest tightened and because I didn’t know what to say, I leaned into the barrier and pressed my lips to it, mimicking a kiss. He bent his head and did the same. We stayed like that, hands to hands, lips to lips, our eyes locked. I didn’t care who might be watching. I needed him to know that, to me at least, he was far from a monster.

  We ended our “kiss” and slid to the ground, resting our backs against the cold wall. I’d pretty much ignored the chair one of the few staff had brought me, preferring a place on the floor beside Jamie. His cell was furnished with a bed now, though I hadn’t seen him use it. It was bolted to the concrete floor, like the toilet, and they filled the tank with Gulf water less and less. They were slowly weaning him off of it, and according to my dad, they weren’t even letting it fill all the way up anymore. Soon he’d be down to two saltwater showers a day. I wondered, though I never saw any evidence of it, what kinds of experiments they might be doing on him. What they hoped to gain by observing him. My dad had assured me they did little more than take samples of blood, but I thought there was a lot of wiggle room in the words “little more.”

  It was clear, now that he could, Jamie had much he wanted to say. Thoughts worked behind his eyes, and as stilted as his words continued to be, they were also gaged. His eyes lit briefly on every corner of the room. Cameras in every one of them. They were probably listening too.

  As if deciding it didn’t matter, he drew his knees up and said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t bringing up our baby again.

  “Your friend,” he said, his tone flat.

  It took me a few beats to puzzle out he was referring t
o Michael. I looked down at my hands, hoping to hide the contrition that undoubtedly crossed my face.

  “He okay?” He bumped the acrylic with his knee. He seemed insistent that I look at him when I spoke to him, as if he needed to see me as well as hear me.

  “Yes.” I tried not to think about Michael, especially while I was here with Jamie. But since he brought him up, I asked, “Why did you attack him?”

  Shame, I thought, made him avert his eyes. And then I regretted my choice of words because that made him sound like the thing I was trying to convince him he wasn’t.

  “He touched you,” he said as if that were reason enough to have nearly killed Michael.

  My conscious pricked with guilt he had no right to make me feel. How did I make him understand?

  You were gone for so long. I thought you were dead. I had no choice but to move on.

  While I wanted to explain, this wasn’t the place. We had so much to talk about, so much that needed to be said, but it didn’t feel right talking about any of it here. Our baby. What happened to him in the Deep. Michael.

  Would it hurt Jamie to know I was moving forward? I didn’t think so. That wouldn’t be like Jamie. Like Noah had said, he would have been proud of me. He would have wanted me to have a life without him. A good life. He would have wanted me to be happy.

  “What is he to you?” Jamie asked, the words spoken shockingly clear.

  His first complete and clearly spoken sentence and he was asking about Michael. For some reason the question made me angry. Jamie had never been the jealous type, he was too self-assured for that. I was guilty of many things, but I wouldn’t be for this. If I could finally let another boy touch me, it was a place I’d had to fight through hell to get to.

  “A friend you beat to a bloody pulp. Then you dragged me with you into the Deep. You might have killed me, do you know that?”

  His mouth curled up at the corners. Was he smiling? Did he think hurting Michael, nearly drowning me, was funny?