* * *
As Sterling Flores and I made our way down the sidewalk, all those witnesses he testified to parted like the Red Sea, giving us ample berth. Flores moved like he was on a cloud, his gait so smooth it was vaporous. His chin tilted in arrogance, looking down his nose at the people we passed. I wondered if they thought he was somebody. While celebrities didn’t abound, they were common down here. I’d seen a few myself. And with the sly wayward looks he was getting—and me too for that matter—it was apparent they thought something.
“Isn’t it interesting.” He leaned in close as if he were telling me a secret. “How they stare. They know something is different, but the difference eludes them.”
I found it more disconcerting than interesting. The longer I was what I was, the more I experienced these looks. A cut of the eyes from a woman in a straw cowboy hat followed by a subtle elbow to her teenaged son. The behind the hand whisper from the blonde girl in the Kappa Kappa Gamma t-shirt to her sorority sister. Were we not simply a man and a young girl walking in a crowd of dozens? Or did they really see something more? Was I so used to looking into the sun I no longer registered the glare like other people did?
The girl was still staring. I wanted to tell her to take a picture, it would last longer, but I was too afraid she’d take me serious. When I was little that was considered a threat. Today, it was an invitation that would get you plastered all over social media sites.
“Would you like to sit?” Flores indicated an empty bench under an oak tree. It was one of the few benches with any shade, so I sat, tucking my knees up so my heels were on the edge of the wood. Flores sat down too, leaving a comfortable amount of space between us. The silence that descended was uncomfortable. I waited for him to tell me exactly what it was he wanted to talk about. All he did was look at me with an enraptured expression.
“I’m sorry. It’s rude of me to stare, but you have to remember, Rena was not much younger than you last time I saw her. It’s a little disconcerting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were that first day? Why come to the shop under false pretenses?”
“There was nothing false about it. My daughter’s own Soulfast is in a few weeks. I wasn’t lying when I said Magnolia came highly recommended. As to the other, I’m a cautious man, Caris. And your circumstance is unusual. Maybe I should have been more forthcoming, but I wanted to assess how things were before I approached Athen. Our history is strained at best.” He sat with one ankle crossed over his knee, his arm extended over the back of the bench. His gaze never strayed far from mine.
“And how do you find things?” I asked, meeting his gaze straight on. His eyes narrowed slightly, crinkling at the corners as he regarded me.
“I owe it to Rena to see you have a place. I can see that you do. Once the Soulfast is done, I can consider my obligation fulfilled. But I do hope it won’t be the end. Family is a luxury to be enjoyed.”
“So you were close with her?” I asked.
“As close as any brother and sister could be. I missed her greatly when she left. It’s a shame you didn’t know her.” He shifted and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He slipped out a picture and handed it to me. It was of the two of them. He had his arm around her and her head lay on his shoulder. The only picture I had of her was black and white. This one was in color. Rena’s hair hung straight and long like a waterfall, a poignant look in her brown eyes.
“Everyone says I look just like her,” I said as my eyes misted. “I don’t see it.” All I saw was a beautiful, enchanting creature that died much too soon.
Flores leaned over slightly and peered at the picture in my hand. I thought my hand might be trembling. “You can keep it if you’d like.”
“I couldn’t do that,” I said, even as my fingers held tighter.
“I have others.” His voice was steeped in tenderness, and I found this was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“Thank you.” I don’t know what I expected from him after he pulled up on that boat with his guns and overt demonstration of authority. Certainly not this. This gentleness. This thoughtfulness.
“I imagine it was hard being so far away. Charm or not, those years must have been very difficult for you. Confusing.”
“Yes. It was,” I said. “They were.” And the longer I was here, the more I realized how hard they had been. What I’d missed. No wonder I felt off-center, like a buoy in rough seas, tossed and turned at the whim of the waves. It was as if the more the pieces of my new life fell together, the more adrift I felt. And then there would be the Soulfast and another piece would fall into place. But at what risk? Losing my dad, the one person who prevented me from drifting away all together.
As if sensing my growing somberness, Flores pulled his phone out and scrolled through more pictures. He stopped on one and tilted the phone to me.
“This is Sasha. The pearls are for her birthday.” He handed me the phone, and I stared at my cousin. If I were the spitting image of my mother, Sasha was the spitting image of her father. Same jet black hair. Same royal blue eyes. Stunningly beautiful already at sixteen.
“There’s more. You can scroll through them if you like,” he offered.
I flicked through one image after another, each picture a clear display of the affection Sterling obviously felt for his daughter. I imagined them sharing the same kind of relationship my dad and I shared. The next picture that came across the screen was one with Sasha, Sterling, and I assumed his wife. My aunt. She didn’t stand out physically next to her husband and daughter, not many people would. But she had a kindness to her expression that went deeper than skin and eyes. I thought I might like her.
“That’s Angela,” he said, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
“She’s lovely. You have a lovely family.” With a quick glance at his face, I handed his phone back, hoping my eyes were dry.
“I’m sure they would love to meet you sometime.”
“I might like that,” I said.
“I would too.” Something in his tone changed. It fell to a deeper, intimate timbre. “I’ve missed these moments, Rena. The two of us, talking.”
“Caris.” I looked at him, the air precipitously heavy.
“What?” He turned his head to me, a half smile still in place, eyes hazy and trance-like.
“You called me Rena. My name is Caris.”
He blinked. “Of course.” He rubbed the palms of his hands over the tops of his thighs, mouth forming a frown. “Forgive my confusion. You even sound like her.”
The witnesses he credited didn’t seem enough in that moment. I was saved from having to respond to that bit of weirdness when Quinn called my name.
Flores and I both turned toward the sound of her voice. She was coming up the sidewalk, a to-go box from the Cowgirl Kitchen in one hand, a bright green water bottle in the other. Her violet eyes fell on Flores, openly curious and appreciative.
“Hey Quinn,” I said. Her pink hair flowed over her shoulders, smooth skin exposed in a white sundress. She looked like a fairy.
Flores stood when she approached and took the hand she extended.
“This is Sterling Flores. My uncle,” I said, the odd moment evaporating under the sound of his name. Her eyes rounded as he bowed over her hand. Maybe she’d heard of him too.
“Quinn,” he said, all honeyed politeness. ”It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you, Sterling,” she said. “You too.”
“But I’m afraid I was just leaving,” Flores said, his tone regretful. “I’ve kept Caris long enough. I do have some business to attend to.”
“Yeah, I have to get back to work myself.” Quinn’s mouth tilted in obvious disappointment.
Flores’s gaze slid to me, his countenance hesitant. “Tell Magnolia to let me know when she’s finished with my collection.”
“I will,” I said. “It shouldn’t be more than a day or two.”
“I will see you again then.” He inclined his head, his gaze hopeful.
<
br /> “I hope so,” I said, realizing I meant it regardless of those last few puzzling seconds. I’d been thinking of her, too. I held up the picture he had given me. “Thanks for this. It means a lot to me.”
“I thought it might. You are very welcome.” He turned to make his way up the sidewalk where the same black Range Rover from the first time I’d seen him waited at the curb.
“Uncle, huh?” Quinn inquired after we’d fallen in step side by side. “Your pedigree gets more impressive by the day.”
“Thanks for making me sound like a race horse.”
She laughed and took a sip of her water. “And he’s got that Caribbean smell.”
“So that’s a thing?” It’s one of the first things I noticed about him the day he’d walked into Maggie’s. He smelled of a hot, salty breeze.
“Yeah, I hung out with a guy one summer from the Caymans that smelled just like that. He tasted richer, too. I think he got tired of me always licking his hand.”
“I hope you’re joking.” I laughed, though I totally understood the sentiment. I’d done my fair share of licking Noah. Sometimes I felt like a horse to his salt block.
“Sadly, I’m not. That’s not why he dumped me though. He wanted to get married, do the baby thing. He didn’t understand why I, at seventeen, didn’t want to settle down yet.”
“Seventeen?” I asked somewhat appalled.
“Yeah, we’re lucky, you know, being a part of a more progressive tribe. Females elsewhere are treated more like baby-making machines.”
“Really?” I looked at her askance to see if she was messing with me. I didn’t think she was. “And that’s okay with you?”
“On principle, no. Practically, I understand. There’s like three of us in our generation, now that you’re here. You, me, and Levi’s sister, Farron, who I’m sure you haven’t met yet because he keeps a pretty tight rein on her. Even for us the expectation is there, and when the time comes, I’ll do my duty. Get married and have breather babies. But at least I get to have some fun first. And I’ll get to choose who I marry.”
Is that what was expected of me? Sure, I wanted marriage, a family, but that was way down the road in ten-year territory.
“So what brings Sterling here, other than you?” she asked, openly curious.
“He wants me to have a Soulfast. He’s kind of insisting on it,” I said when we stopped under the awning of the Deep. Her own shop was another block up the street.
“You don’t sound very excited about it,” she observed.
“Should I be?” I questioned as a young mother buzzed by on her bicycle with one of those strollers that hooked on the back.
“Most girls are. It’s kind of big deal. Not so much here anymore, but my mom wanted me to do one. See.” Her fingers fumbled at her neck. Though she didn’t wear as much jewelry as Maggie, she did wear way more than me. I hadn’t noticed the pearl she singled out before. It was powder blue. Pretty. “It was nothing like a real Soulfast. Mostly close friends and family.”
It’s not that I was opposed to the idea. A part of me was excited about it and what it represented. Most of my apprehension was on my dad’s behalf. I had no idea how he would react. He was about to have to watch me irrevocably link myself to a man he’d spent his life despising. What if he asked me not to? What if the real choice was between the man who touched some hidden place inside me or the man who’d been my rock for the last eighteen years?
That was one choice I hoped I didn’t have to make.
Ten
“Come on, Caris. Dig deep. You’re almost there.”
My drill sergeant stood thirty yards away, hands on his lean hips, sun-streaked hair blowing in the breeze. I focused on the slight rise and fall of his chest as he badgered me to the finish line. I’d lost count of how many miles we’d run. For Noah, there was no taking the easy way—running on the hard, wet sand on the shoreline. No, we tracked through mounds of dry, powdery sand. Not to mention he was wearing a weighted vest.
I had no one to blame but myself. I’d volunteered to participate in this self-inflicted torture. I watched him go through variations of this same routine countless times. He just made it look so easy and effortless.
I doubled over when I reached him, my land lungs screaming uncle. I cast a longing gaze on the gulf and the lure of the lapping waves. Delicious, salty water.
“Come on, stand up. Walk it off.”
“I’m dying,” I gasped.
“You’re not dying. You asked for the full treatment, remember?”
“You should have warned me.” I walked a few paces with my hands on the back of my head, gulping air.
“I did,” he said, shedding the vest.
I snatched my water from where it waited on my towel and took a long drink, the cool water sliding down my parched throat. Before I could finish off the whole bottle, he effortlessly scooped me off the ground, one hand around my biceps under my left shoulder, the other hand gripped at my inner thigh. My body instantly straightened as he flung me over his head. He proceeded to perform a series of squats while holding me overhead. I stopped counting at thirty. Noah didn’t need a gym, he had me.
“I get it, Noah. You’re really strong, and OMG you have such big muscles.” I laughed, but I played along, keeping my body straight and tight. I hadn’t stepped on a scale in a while, but I figured I weighed 125 pounds, maybe 130. Child’s play for Noah. Still, all this up and down was starting to make me dizzy and a little queasy.
“Would you put me down? People are staring.”
He knocked out another ten reps before setting me down. His face was flushed and his pulse throbbed in his neck.
“Come on Noah. You’re not tired are you?” I teased, slapping at his shoulder.
“You think that was easy?” He reached out and pinched my side. “Someone’s been overindulging in the ice cream.” He winked then ducked before my fist could connect with his jaw.
“You calling me fat?”
“You know I like you with a little meat on your bones.” He put his arms around me, locking me to him, hands secured on my butt cheeks. “Perfectly meaty.”
He let me go then trotted back to our towel. He bent over and snagged at the canvas bag he carried with him when we walked down to the beach from his house. Noah traveled light. No cell phone, no wallet, he was rarely fully dressed. For him to bring a bag with him left me curious. He came up with the knife my father tried to give me that I left on his boat. He also had a sheath looped onto a belt.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“Athen came to see me today.” His tone was suddenly clipped, verging on rebellious.
“And?” I prompted when he didn’t elaborate.
“And he said would I please give this to you and make sure you don’t stab yourself with it.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it,” I observed.
“Knives are dangerous,” he pointed out.
“Are you saying that because I’m a girl?” I threw out to be obstinate. Noah was well aware I was a lover not a fighter.
“You being a girl is my favorite thing about you and has nothing to with it. Knives are tools and not generally effective weapons. Athen and Sol are reacting to the shark incident.”
“You carry one,” I said as a matter of fact.
“I’ve used it maybe a dozen times in the Deep, and I’ve been swimming with it since I was five. I’ve had to use it for self-defense in the water once. Knives are rarely useful in a shark attack.”
“Sol seemed to do okay. Better than okay,” I said with maybe too much appreciation.
He’d crouched in front of me and rested his elbows on his knees, looking up at me with a question in his green eyes. “Three sharks you said?“
I nodded.
“Then Sol got lucky. And I am saying this because you’re a girl. He’s stronger than you. By a lot. One good solid punch from a male can stun a decent sized shark into almost complete immobility. You may be stronger than ave
rage for a girl, but you’re not that strong. Sol isn’t an idiot. I don’t imagine he used his blade until it was absolutely necessary.”
No, he hadn’t. He’d only used it when he was about to lose a leg.
“Then why bother at all?”
“Because the one time I did use it for self-defense, it saved my life. Take off your shorts,” he said, his tone surly.
“Gee, Noah, since you asked so nice.” My elastic waist shorts slipped off easily, revealing the pink bathing suit bottoms underneath. “You really don’t want to show me do you?”
“It’s not that. If you’re going to carry one, you need to know the basics of how to use it. But serious knife skills take months, years of practice. I don’t want you to get a false sense of security.” He secured the belt where the sheath rested on the outside of my right thigh.
“Before I show you anything, I do have one condition.“ He peered at me, the fingers of his left hand stroking bare skin.
“What’s that?”
“If the option exists to run, you run. No matter the type of predator.”
“In case you didn’t notice the other night, I’m not totally defenseless.”
“Well, unless you’ve learned to make lightning strike underwater, I’m asking you to take the safest route when encountering an aggressive shark. Escape.”
“Fine.” I nodded and he slipped the knife from the sheath.
“Here.” He held the knife out to me. “I want to see how you hold it.”
I grabbed it, holding the tip of the blade straight down. He reached over and changed the position of the knife to where it angled over my palm, the tip of the blade pointing out.
“Holding it like this gives you an extra few inches and when dealing with knives that can mean the difference between a grazing strike or a deadly one. Or the loss of a finger. If,” he emphasized, “you were fighting another person. We’re talking sharks here so once the blade’s in your hand, strike fast with as much force as you can. Eyes, nose, gills, aim for those. More than likely that’ll be enough to discourage it. Sharks don’t like to work for their food. Convince them you’re too much trouble.”
Waterdreamer (The Emerald Series Book 2) Page 11