Wet: Part 2

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  He finally spotted her halfway across the channel. It looked like she’d swam south for some distance and now cut across at an angle toward the island, trying to counteract the current, but the flow was too much for her. He tried to calculate the distance she had left and the rate at which she swam. She would miss the island and was in danger of being carried out to sea, but she didn’t stop.

  “Oh God, no,” he prayed. Without hesitation, he started out into the water after her. He swam for his life, but he didn’t have fins. When he reached the current, it pulled him north faster than it took Rhees. He’d never reach her. He turned back and swam until the worst of the current released him. He treaded water, waiting.

  He’d become painfully aware he couldn’t save her. She would miss the island, of that he was sure. She was already too far across for him to get to her, so he calculated again and waited for her to drift into a better position. He’d try again when the current took her a little farther north. He couldn’t save her, but he would at least be able to keep her company until search and rescue found them—or they drowned. But they would be together.

  He watched, without realizing how he held his breath. He let out a loud sob, a sign of his relief, when he watched her miraculously reach the large rock outcrop fifteen meters off the tip of the main island. Her hands frantically grasped for a hold as the current carried her by. Her fingers took hold and she hung on for dear life, catching her breath. Paul turned and made his way back to Duna.

  “She made it!” he choked out. He collapsed on his knees within a few feet of the beach and dragged himself up out of the water. He stood as soon as he found the strength to haul himself onto his feet and look back. “She made it.” He laughed giddily with relief. “She’s tired. That’s good.”

  Paul knew, even though it was only a short distance, the current flowed strong between the rock and the north shore of the island. He assured himself she was too tired and too scared to attempt to swim the rest of the way.

  “Hang on Baby. Wait for the boat. We’ll get you,” he said, willing her to listen to him even though she’d never hear him across the distance.

  His hope dashed to pieces when he noticed her pulling herself around, hand over hand, to the other side of the rock. He couldn’t see her anymore, but he said another prayer, understanding she had no intention of staying on the rock.

  “Damn it, Baby! Just stay put!” Too late. He saw her seconds later, making a swim for the island. He bent forward, resting his hands on his knees, concentrating on his breathing. He paced, clasping his hands behind his head, shifting from cursing to praying back to cursing again. It felt like a lifetime, but she finally dragged herself out of the water and collapsed on the sand. She’d made it.

  Paul fell to his knees, exhausted from his attempt to swim, and even more weary from the weight of fear. He watched her remove her fins and pull herself up to stand. She turned to look at him, too far away for him to see her expression. He longed—needed—to see her expression. The image of her standing there, holding her fins, staring at him across the channel, haunted him. He had the feeling she’d just taken her one last look before she walked into the jungle and disappeared. He withered.

  He dashed away the tears that fell down his cheeks. Was he crying? He couldn’t believe he was crying. The dreadful fear, watching her try to kill herself, and the knowledge he’d been helpless to do anything about it had just about done him in. Love sucked—big time—just like he’d always believed it would. So why couldn’t he turn it off? He wished he could, but—impossible. He needed to concentrate on a different emotion.

  Now that he knew she was safe, he allowed his concern for her to be replaced with anger. Anger was easier. He planned every word of the scolding he planned to give Rhees while he waited for Randy.

  oOo

  Paul swam out to meet the boat and didn’t wait for anyone to let the ladder down. He grabbed the rail and pulled himself in, yelling, “Get me to the other side.”

  “Where’s Rhees?” several people asked.

  “She swam the channel,” he muttered, and climbed out to the bow. He stood, watching the tree line as they crossed the channel, looking for any sign of her.

  Randy beached the boat on the sand and Paul called for her. He jumped off and pushed the boat back into the water before he jogged south along the shore, looking into the trees, calling out to her. Randy followed along the edge of the island while everyone on board speculated about what was happening.

  It took some time, more time than the people on the boat had patience for. They were anxious to get back to the shop, but no one dared say anything. Paul reached the small development of beach homes on the otherwise deserted end of the island. He spoke for a few minutes to the only man he could find, and Paul finally motioned for Randy to pull the boat up to the small pier. He hopped onto the bow.

  “Let’s go. She hitched a ride on Carl’s water taxi.” A stoic Paul slapped the roof of the boat a couple of times, anxious to get under way.

  Randy backed the boat out away from the pier, but when he pushed the throttle forward, the boat’s motor died. Paul didn’t mean to give Randy the killer glare as he tried to start the engine again and again, and Randy seemed to know Paul’s glare was meant for the boat, not him.

  The Tow’d had done it again. They were dead in the water.

  Chapter 25

  Claire stood in the doorway of the office and watched Paul jump ship. He swam the last two hundred feet to the shop, making it faster than the tow boat could get The Tow’d to dock. She stepped inside, anticipating his arrival. He ran into the office, dripping wet.

  “Where is she?” he huffed, still breathing hard.

  Claire had been waiting for him, crying. She turned on him.

  “You bloody wanker! What did you do to her?”

  “Where is she?” he yelled this time.

  Claire backed away a step, recognizing his anger. “I don’t know where she is now. She’s leaving. I don’t know if she made the last plane or not.” Claire watched the blood drain from his face.

  “She’s leaving?” He ran his hand through his hair, looking unsure all of a sudden. Claire remembered the day he’d called her from Costa Rica. This time, she witnessed him falling apart in person. She put her hand on his arm.

  “Paul. What happened?” she whispered.

  “She’s leaving?” he said again, in a daze. He slumped against the wall and put his hands to his face.

  “Why is she leaving? Paul?” He didn’t answer. “Paul! Damn it. Why is she leaving?” Claire used her stern, motherly tone.

  Paul finally moved his hands and looked down at her like he’d only just noticed her there. He puckered his mouth. “She wanted me to have her.”

  “And . . .?”

  “I said no. I couldn’t do that to her—she doesn’t really want me to do that. She wants to wait for the man who’ll marry her. I made a promise.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and then rubbed the back of his neck. “She said she loves me,” he said dismissively, believing it couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Of course she does. And you love her.”

  He stared at Claire, blankly.

  “It’s not a secret.” She snorted, amused at how she seemed to be the only person who knew. “You’ve been in love with her since the day she came rolling her gigantic duffle bag down the Plank. I still remember the look on your face as you stood right there.” Claire pointed to the spot in front of the window. “You were in awe, and you told me, ‘We have a visitor from the royal family’. I’d never seen you look at anyone like that before.”

  He looked lost, confused.

  “Paul. You love her. She loves you.”

  “Love.” Paul closed his eyes and let his mouth twitch.

  “Yesss,” Claire said slowly. “Keep up Paul. She wants a grow
n-up relationship. Give her one.”

  “I can’t do that,” he barked as his eyes popped open. He took a second to calm himself and his voice turned accepting. “I don’t deserve her.”

  “Of course you don’t.” He shot her a confused but acknowledging glance. “But she doesn’t agree. She loves you—the barmy lass actually loves you, and I don’t get to tell her heart what to feel—neither do you.”

  “Pfft.”

  “You’d rather watch her walk away?”

  His eyes grew wide, and then narrowed just as fast. “I can’t let her compromise herself for me.”

  “Good.” Claire almost smiled. “She’ll be just fine without you.”

  The look on his face . . .

  “She collects nurturers. It’s a talent. She’s got me—me, the anti-nurture woman—looking after her like she’s my own kid—I hate kids. I hate needy people. And yet, she’s got me so looking out for her. She’ll be fine. She’ll leave here, with a broken heart, but she’ll find someone else to look after her—of course, you can take care of her better than anyone else—”

  He met her eyes, challenging her statement.

  “Oh, come on. You know what I’m talking about. You have the means, the whole alpha male thing going for you—the killer instinct. And you love her enough to use it all if she needs it, no holds barred.” Claire checked the effect she had on him. “She’d be better off with you, but she’ll be fine—eventually.”

  “She will, won’t she,” he said.

  “She’ll be married in less than two years.”

  “Jesus!” He leaned over, rested his elbows on his own knees, overwhelmed. He wondered if he’d cry, again. He hadn’t cried since preschool, but this would be twice in one day. “I don’t know how I’ll breathe without her.”

  “Are you afraid you’re going to stop loving her—is that it?”

  He glared at her like she was crazy. “Stop loving her.” He humphed and shook his head. “My God, I can’t imagine not loving her—ever.” He took a second to backtrack. “But she needs someone who can marry her. It’s that simple.”

  “Hmm,” Claire said. “You love her, but you want her to find someone who’ll marry her, even though you know you’ll love her forever and you don’t want to live without her. She’s always been in love with the idea of marriage, but now she loves you even more. She wants to be with you for as long as you’ll have her.”

  It took him a minute, but— “Aww . . . shit.”

  They both froze, staring at each other as they heard the drone of the afternoon plane take off from the middle of the island.

  “Rhees!” they both said at the same time.

  Paul jerked up straight and ran out the door, but his hand grabbed hold of the jamb at the last second. He used the leverage to pull himself back into the office where he proceeded to give Claire a long, grateful kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you. I love you! You know that, right?”

  Dobbs came through the tunnel at that moment. “What the . . . get your hands . . . and your mouth off my wife!”

  Paul let go of Claire and pointed his fingers at Dobbs with both hands, animated with anticipation. “I freakin’ love your wife, man!” And he was gone.

  oOo

  Paul ran next door to Randy’s and didn’t stop to knock. “Randy, I need your bike.” He ran straight through the house and out the back door as Randy and his wife sat on the couch, shaking their heads.

  Paul pushed the motorcycle to the street, started the motor, and was on his way toward Rhees’ place, full throttle. When he reached Oceanside, he killed the motor, jumped off at a run and leaned the bike against the fence before it stopped sputtering. He ran around the yard and up the stairs three at a time, yelling Rhees’ name.

  Rhees lay folded into a ball on her bed, weeping. Her windows were open, so she was careful not to cry so loud the other tenants would hear. She managed to keep the sound down, but she couldn’t control the convulsions as the tears flowed freely.

  She’d made it home, and it was all she could do to get packed before she buckled onto her bed, sobbing into Paul’s pillow, hugging it and breathing in his scent, knowing it would be the last time.

  “Rhees!”

  “Oh no! Paul.” She couldn’t believe it. She looked at the clock and noticed more time had passed than she’d realized. Panic set in. She should have known, but she wasn’t ready. She’d wanted to make a clean get-away. No more confrontations, no more talking. She wanted to walk away and get started on the miserable rest of her life. She should have known Paul wasn’t the type of man to let her do this her way.

  “Crap!”

  She jumped up and scurried around the room in a panic. She double-checked. The padlock hung on her bedroom door, not locked, but it hung, holding the lock hinge in place. She thought about hiding behind the door, but Paul would know she had to be home by the fact the lock was on the inside. It would be stupid to pretend she wasn’t home.

  “Rhees!” he called, sounding closer than before. She heard him on the stairs. He was coming. She did the only thing she could think of. She bolted for the bathroom and threw the shower on. She waited, huddled in the bathroom. Her heart pounded. She thought she’d be sick.

  “Rhees!” he called, from just outside her window.

  She held her breath, as if he’d be able to hear it if she didn’t.

  “Rhees, open the door. We need to talk.”

  She ignored him and planned to wait him out.

  “Come on, Rhees.” His voice grew louder. “I’m coming in.”

  “Crap!” She panicked again. Two doors with locks stood between them. She took comfort. He couldn’t get in. She relaxed a little, feeling safe, until she heard a loud crack. “Shit!” she mouthed. He’d just forced his way through the screen door. He’s coming.

  She tore her swimming suit off, tossed it onto her bed and jumped into the shower just as she felt the building shake and she heard a thunderous boom. She turned her back to the bathroom door, giving herself a fantasy impression that if she couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see her. She slipped her head back into the water.

  “Arrgh!” The sound slipped out as the cold water hit her back, stunning her the way it always did. She thought she heard Paul chuckle, but couldn’t be completely sure it wasn’t just her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

  oOo

  The screen door didn’t give Paul much of a fight. He’d always suspected it wouldn’t do much to keep a determined intruder out. Rhees’ door was another story. He knocked to give her a chance to open it. He thought he heard the shower.

  “Rhees, open the door. I swear I’ll break it down.” He waited three more seconds. “If you’re there, please move, I’m coming in and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  He took a second to study the door, calculating where the weakest point would be. He exhaled a deeply rooted growl and drove his foot near the hinge of the lock. Hyped up on nerves and adrenaline, he intended to talk to her and wasn’t about to let an insignificant slab of wood stand in his way. The door swung open wildly, taking a big chunk of the doorjamb with it, slamming with a thud on the wall behind it. He stood looking for her, but found only an empty room as splinters fell around him.

  He heard water running, and then he heard her gasp the way she always did when she stepped into the cold shower. It made him chuckle, in spite of his ever building exasperation.

  He looked around on his way to the bathroom. She’d stripped the room of all her personal possessions. Her suitcase and backpack sat on the twin bed, packed and ready to go. He winced and reminded himself to feel lucky she’d missed the three o’clock plane.

  A few T-shirts, two e-readers, and an assortment of things, his things, lay neatly piled on the desk. The velvet jewelry box with the necklace he�
��d given her sat on top of the pile, next to a folded piece of paper bearing his name. He opened it up and read.

  As much as I love the necklace

  (DO NOT TRY TO TELL ME I DON’T!!!)

  Wearing it will only make me think of you.

  I know how much you hate when women cry,

  so keep it.

  He sighed, letting his shoulders drop as he looked up at the ceiling, thinking of what a mess the whole thing had become. He looked around the room again, wondering how he was going to smooth this over. He noticed the other bed, their bed. She’d been lying on it, he could tell by the indent in the sheets, and then he saw the wet spot. She’d been crying, crying on his pillow. He touched it and frowned.

  It stabbed at his heart to know he’d caused her so much pain. It devastated him to know he was the reason she’d cried, the reason she’d risked her life—He deadpanned as the memory of her stupid stunt hit him in the face. Every swear word he could think of coursed through his mind.

  How the hell could she do that to him? She wasn’t the only one aching from the crushing emotions their conversation had triggered. She’d admitted she loved him. Some love—if she really believed she could just walk away. He looked at the tear stain again. He knew it was selfish to feel a little satisfaction at seeing it, but it meant she didn’t want to leave any more than he wanted her to, at least, he clung to that hope, but he wasn’t letting her off the hook so easily.

  He turned and looked into the bathroom. He slowly reached and moved the shower curtain, just far enough to see her inside. She stood very still, her back turned to him, shampoo rolling out of her hair and down her back. She didn’t give any indication she knew he was there.

  He closed his eyes, and using every bit of self-control he barely had left, he stepped away. Seeing her like that tempted him to watch and wait for her to turn around. He wanted to see her face, her eyes, her reaction when she saw him, but he decided against it. He was angry, and she was beautiful, and naked, and he wasn’t sure at the moment that he could keep himself from joining her and giving her what she’d asked for.