Beyond the Rising Tide

by Sarah Beard

  “Has anyone ever been brought back to life after being dead for a long time?”

  “A long time?” Charles asks carefully, because he knows why I’m asking. “Meaning, six months?”

  “Yeah. Six months, fifteen days, and …” I glance at a clock on the wall. “Seven hours.”

  He releases a sad sigh. “I’m still learning about these things, like you. But from what I understand, it’s not unheard of. Only extremely rare. I have never seen it done.” He pauses, and a thin line appears between his brows. “But Jerick has.”

  I sit up and stare at him, intrigued.

  Charles looks hesitant to tell me more. “In the two hundred years he’s spent sealing people’s deaths,” he says, his voice laced with caution, “he has unsealed only one.”

  “Unsealed a death? How?” I try to sound casual, as though my very happiness doesn’t hinge on his words.

  He rubs the knee of his white pants, as though it’s helping him gather his thoughts. It’s something he used to do when he was alive, and it makes me recall all the evenings we sat in his living room together, when I’d tell him about some punk I fought with at school. He’d rub his knee for a minute, then say something like, “It takes the stronger man to walk away, and you’re stronger than that boy. I believe in you, Kai. And I know you’ll make a better choice next time.”

  And usually, I did.

  Now, his hand goes still. “I don’t know all the details. You know Jerick’s job is to seal a deceased person’s body so that their spirit can no longer enter. He mentioned one case where he was assigned to unseal the elements of someone’s body after it had completely decomposed, so that the elements could be reorganized and the body restored. That’s all he told me.” He gives me a pointed look. “Once in two hundred years, Kai. Please don’t dwell on the possibility. It hurts to see the hope in your eyes.”

  “But why not me?” I ask. “No one even knows I’m dead. My body has never been found. And I still have a life to live here. There are my sisters, and music, and …”

  “And Avery,” he says sadly. “We all leave something behind. But the most important things follow us in their own time.”

  “You mean … when she dies someday,” I say weakly.

  I must look like I’m going to fall to pieces, because he braces my shoulders with both hands. “If it were up to me, I would give you back your life in an instant. But you know it’s not.” He smiles sadly, then gives me an encouraging look. “There’s another life for you, the life beyond here. It’s time to accept it, to take it and live it. You’ve been telling Avery the last few days that she needs to live her life. Well, it’s time for you to take your own advice and live yours.”

  His hands on my shoulders do nothing to stop my voice from coming out in a fractured mess. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “No …” He shakes his head, and then looks deep into my eyes. “The miracle isn’t being raised from death, but living beyond it.”

  His words hang in the air, almost as if I can see them scrolling in front of me over and over. And then they slowly start to absorb into my mind. I mull them over, trying to understand and accept them. But everything in me wants to fight against them.

  “You’ve done so much good for Avery,” Charles says. “But it’s time to let her carry on with her life, and for you to carry on with yours.”

  My chin sinks to my chest, and I take in a long, stuttering breath.

  “Come with me,” he invites gently. “Give me back my ring, and come to Elysium. See what awaits you there. There’s more ahead of you than you can even imagine.”

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe I need to let go of this place, of Avery, of the life I knew, and of this new temporary life I’ve just started to get used to. Maybe it’s time to see what’s next for me. And maybe whatever it is will heal this hole in my heart, will temper the pain that grows more and more every day at the thought of being separated from Avery.

  But can I leave without saying good-bye? Without letting her know how much I love her? Now that I know how she feels about me, will I be able to live with myself for the rest of eternity knowing that I didn’t openly return her affection when I had the chance?

  The thought is unbearable. And it gives me the clarity I need to finally make a decision. I rise to my feet and pace the room. “I can’t,” I say to Charles. “Not yet. I still have one more day.” One more day that can’t go to waste. And every hour, every moment that she believes I don’t love her, is a tragic waste. I grab a black hoodie from the couch and throw it on. I may not be able to give her the whole truth, but if I break Avery’s heart, it won’t be because she thinks I don’t love her.

  “I have to go somewhere,” I say.

  The room dims, and when I turn to Charles, he’s already gone.

  Avery is out with friends tonight. But that doesn’t matter. I open the cottage door and jog into the rain. Wherever she is, I’m going to find her and unload this heavy truth.

  he rain showers down as I race through the vineyard, my sneakers splashing through muddy puddles and drenching my pant legs. My heart is racing too, soaring with hope in one beat, surging with fear the next. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to Kai. I spent the entire drive telling Paige about the past few days, so I didn’t have a chance to plan anything. I only hope that when I see him, the words will magically come.

  As I cut the corner at the end of the vineyard row, I slam into something so hard it knocks the air out of me. I look up to see Kai, his hands clamped on my arms to steady me. He’s breathing hard, as if he’s been running too. His face is mostly in shadow, faintly brushed with the distant light on the cottage porch.

  He doesn’t say anything, just keeps gripping my arms like he thinks I’m still in danger of falling over. My mouth is open, waiting for me to fill it with words. So when I finally catch my breath, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

  “What’s her name?”

  Through my jacket, I can feel the heat of his hands on my arms. It makes me shiver.

  “Whose name?” he asks.

  It’s raining so hard we’re practically breathing water. But somehow, my mouth is like a desert. I swallow. “The girl you love. The girl Tyler hurt. What’s her name?”

  Every part of him goes perfectly still, as though he’s terrified to move or speak. Except his chest, which is rising and falling more rapidly with each breath. I look up into his face, all shadows and vague strokes of light, a fragile, crumbling night giving way to dawn.

  “You can trust me,” I whisper. “Tell me her name.”

  His hands loosen on my arms and slide upward, gathering the lapels of my jacket and tugging me gently toward him. My pulse leaps and skitters at his nearness, and there’s no way my breath is going to slow down now. His hands move farther up, forming to my face and neck, setting my skin on fire.

  He dips his head so close that I can feel his breath on my cheeks. And then he whispers the name of the girl he loves. “Avery Ambrose.”

  I inhale a sharp breath as the sound of my name sinks in. I was right. I’m the one he loves. The joy that floods me now swells my heart to the point of bursting.

  Slowly, almost cautiously, he tilts his head and leans closer, then brushes his lips against mine, leaving a little trail of rain on my mouth. He doesn’t pull back, though; he lingers there, his face a breath away and his hand on the back of my neck. I rise to my toes and he kisses me again, more confidently this time. As though whatever made him cautious a moment ago is gone.

  Rain patters on the grapevines around us, and water droplets slide over my lips between his warm breaths and kisses. It’s like butterfly wings and hot cocoa and rolling waves all together. Beautiful and succulent and scary woven into something divine.

  When he pulls away, I clutch the front of his hoodie to keep him close. “Why couldn’t you tell me earlier?”

  His exhale is long and stuttered. “Because I’m not—” His voice breaks, and he pauses to regain comp
osure, then tries again. “I’m not the one who can make you happy.”

  I reach up and touch his face, wishing that I could somehow make him feel just how happy he makes me. And wishing that I could make him happy too. “You already do. In fact, after these last few days, I’m convinced you’re the only one who can. My happiness is in your hands.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why?” My throat is suddenly burning. “Even if I don’t say it, it’s still true.”

  He shakes his head slowly and his shoulders sink a notch. “You know I’m leaving.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I find his hand at the small of my back and weave my fingers into his. “We can figure something out.”

  As I gaze into his sad eyes, waiting for him to respond, something taps at my memory like the rain on his face. Keeps tapping, tapping, tapping until a specific memory cracks open. Looking at Kai in the rain reminds me of the boy who drowned, as he clung to my surfboard in the rain and restless waves. But this time in my memory, I glimpse his face through the rain. And the longer I look at Kai, the more he doesn’t just remind me of the boy, the more it’s like I’m looking at the boy. The lines and details of Kai’s face slowly fill in the gaps of my lost memories, and suddenly, Kai is the boy who saved my life.

  I let go of his hand and step back, blinking through the rain at him. It can’t be. It’s impossible.

  “What’s wrong?” Kai asks, worry darkening his expression.

  I open my mouth, but only a little whimper escapes. If I tell him what’s going on in my head, he’ll think I’m crazy. But I have to ask. “Kai,” I say, my voice wavering with doubt. “If I’m the girl you were talking about, then you said we met six months ago.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Where did we meet?”

  He steps toward me, and his hand comes up to stroke my wet cheek. “You gave me a chocolate sample in front of your shop. I don’t blame you for not remembering me. We were never … officially introduced.”

  I close my eyes and focus all my energy on recalling the day that boy drowned, on remembering the details of his face, or even a vague image. But all I see is Kai’s face, Kai’s eyes, Kai’s wet hair. Only, it was a different color then.

  Then I remember something else.

  The scar.

  I grab Kai’s hand and lead him out of the vineyard and through the lavender field to his cottage. I pull him inside and shut the door, click on the table lamp, then turn to face him. “Take off your hoodie,” I demand.

  He gives an amused and slightly bewildered half-smile. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t remove anything.

  I feel my cheeks warm as I realize he’s probably wondering what exactly I have in mind. “I … just want to see something,” I explain. He stares at me for a moment longer, his face turning more serious, and then he peels off his soaked hoodie. The shoulders of his T-shirt underneath are damp where the rain soaked through.

  Without warning or explanation, I circle to his back, grab the hem of his shirt, and hike it up. Surprisingly, he doesn’t object. I hold my breath as more and more of his back is revealed. It’s defined and sinewy beneath smooth skin. Not a single scar or even a mole or freckle. I run my hand up his spine and over his shoulder blades, searching for the texture of a scar. But it’s like flawless satin. I shuck his T-shirt higher so I can see his shoulder blades. And still, his skin is perfect.

  “Are you looking for something?” he asks, twisting to look at me over his shoulder.

  I look up into his eyes. The teasing expression I expect to see isn’t there. Instead, his face is grave. I let go of his shirt, and he lowers it back down.

  I’m wrong. It’s not him. And yet, it’s Kai’s face on the boy in my memory. Maybe I’m imposing it onto the faceless boy from last winter. It makes sense, seeing how Kai has rescued me too, just in a different way.

  Or maybe I’m going crazy.

  “Yes,” I admit, looking at the floor as a hot wave of embarrassment makes its way to my cheeks. “I thought …” I shake my head. “Sorry. Just forget that happened.”

  He turns to face me. “What—”

  “Please don’t ask. You’ll think I’ve lost it.”

  He gazes at me for a long time, a million questions in his eyes that sometimes toy on the edge of his lips. But he keeps them in and finally draws me into his arms. For now, I brush aside the confusing memories and instead breathe in deeply this warm and alive boy, as though it will somehow make him a part of me, fuse us together into something unbreakable. And then I whisper the words that have been burning on my lips all day. “I love you, Kai.”

  His arms tighten around me, and I feel his warm breath whispering in my ear. “I love you, Avery. Promise you’ll never forget that.”

  I pull back to look into his eyes. They’re the eyes of someone who’s peered over a dark horizon and seen a tornado stirring. He’s talking as if he’s leaving tomorrow, and panic surges through me. I don’t understand why he can’t find a way to stay, especially now that I know how he feels about me. I open my mouth to voice my thoughts, but stop myself. Something tells me I need to be patient with him. I don’t know everything he’s been through, but he probably has a hard time trusting the permanence of anything. Whatever his circumstances are, I know we can work through them. With time, I can convince him to stay. For Isadora. For his sisters. For me.

  I reach up and brush a piece of his white hair from his forehead, then whisper, “Some things last.” I don’t know how I know this, especially when I’ve seen my own parents separate. But I have to believe that it’s possible for love to last, for two people to stay together through thick and thin.

  He leans his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. For a few breaths, he says nothing, and then, “Can I take you somewhere tomorrow?”

  I nod, and his smile widens, showcasing that adorable crease in his cheek. Instead of restraining myself like I have the last couple days, I rise to my toes and kiss it.

  “I have some things to do in the morning,” he says, opening his eyes. “But I can pick you up at noon. Do you think you can get off work?”

  I nod affirmatively, figuring that with enough groveling, Paige or Sophie will cover for me. “Just pick me up at the shop. Or I can meet you here.” It occurs to me that right now, my Cherokee is parked in the dry garage at home. “And by the way … can you give me a ride home tonight? Paige dropped me off.”

  He presses his lips to my forehead. “Of course.”

  I don’t feel the rain as we walk to Isadora’s truck, because all my nerve endings seem to have migrated to where his fingers are laced between mine. And when he drops me off, his kiss good-night is full of the promise of more to come, and I feel a binding thread strengthening between us. I only hope it will grow strong enough to make him stay.

  stand in front of Ed’s Guitar World, clutching the handle of my case. The instrument inside is so much more than a guitar. It’s three months of hard work in Charles’s vineyard. Thirty-two hundred dollars. It’s my identity and self-worth. My sounding board and vent for things otherwise too hard or risky to express. But most of all, it’s my dreams. And this morning, I’m going to trade it all in for cash.

  I try to tell myself that it’s not really a loss or a sacrifice since I can’t take my guitar with me anyway, but my feet still refuse to carry me through the sliding glass doors. I don’t want to let it go. Not yet. I still have a little more time, don’t I? I catch my reflection in the glass. I look like a regular teenage boy. I can almost imagine that I am. Maybe for just one day, I can pretend to be.

  My fingers tighten around the case handle, and my feet turn and take me down the sidewalk, away from the store.

  Today, I’m not dead. I’m just a kid with a dream. I have a heart that beats and pumps blood through my veins. Today, I’m just a seventeen-year-old boy trying to impress a seventeen-year-old girl. A girl I actually have a chance with. I’m a boy who has a tomorrow, and a day after tomorrow, and many days after that.

  Ju
st for one day, I’m going to pretend that I’ve earned this life that’s finally worth living.

  I stop at the corner and lay my guitar case on the concrete, unlatching the lid and opening it. I take out my guitar and sling the strap over my shoulder, then tune the strings and start playing. It doesn’t take long for passersby to notice. They slow down, turning their heads to watch, then stop and come closer. When I start singing, a small crowd forms around me, heads nodding and feet tapping. Dollar bills and coins drop into my guitar case like rain in an empty well.

  I play song after song, each followed by applause and whistles and enthusiastic compliments. I have the sensation of finding something that’s been lost for a long time, relief and rejoicing and remembering why it was so important to me in the first place. Before I died, music was one of the few things that made me feel alive. Not much has changed about that.

  By late morning, my guitar case is littered with bills and coins. I take the money and drive Isadora’s truck to a department store where I buy some new shorts and a nice button-down shirt. Next, I go to the grocery store and pick up picnic supplies. And then, very discreetly, I leave what’s left of my cash in an envelope in the office of the shop owner whose window I broke, along with a note of apology. At noon, I drive to the chocolate shop and pick up the girl I love.

  On a grassy cliff overlooking the ocean, Avery sits across from me on one of Isadora’s colorful woven blankets. She’s wearing capris and a sleeveless blouse, and her freckled shoulders are making it really hard to appreciate the spectacular view. A warm breeze stirs her hair and the grass around us, and the sun hits her just right, making her edges incandescent. I can’t believe she’s really here with me, glancing at me between bites of her lunch with a little smile that says she’s thinking as much about our kiss the night before as I am. Of all the things I thought might happen by stealing Charles’s ring, this was the least expected.

  She picks up a strawberry and bites it in half, studying the open flesh while chewing the other half. She looks so content, and I think how I’ve never seen her truly happy until today. The tense lines in her face are all smoothed out, and without the worry and pain in her eyes, she looks almost childlike. Innocent and carefree. She’s never looked more beautiful.