by Terri Farley
Zack said that Jesse didn’t sleep inside, and Jesse had agreed. I wondered if that was true. Not that it mattered.
All I wanted to do was swim with him tomorrow, and then if there was time, see if he wanted to come along when I drove into Siena Bay to gas up the Bug.
“There’ll be lots of decorating and some preparation for the shoreline games,” Nana said, drawing me back to the Sea Horse Inn.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, and Thelma’s eyes flashed impatience.
“No dear, the day after tomorrow. Midsummer’s Eve day.”
“Of course,” I said, and then tried to memorize my part in the celebration.
Besides decorating and cooking, I’d be called upon to dress in a Renaissance-style gown Nana had picked for me. If asked, I was supposed to embellish Celtic tales I knew for the guests or visitors strolling the beach.
“And then there’ll be Dark Tea,” Thelma said, looking a page beyond Nana’s lists for Midsummer’s day.
“The days will be growing short again,” Nana explained. “So in honor—”
“In mourning,” Thelma put in.
“Of course we’ll serve our richest foods—curries and casseroles, perhaps some kedgeree. What do you think, Gwennie?”
“I think it’s tasty,” I admitted. Mom cooked up kedgeree on rainy weekends. Made of rice and fish, cream and saffron, it was delicious but not for the middle of June.
“—we’ll draw the curtains, use candlelight—”
“Why do something so depressing?” I asked Nana. “It’s like we’re rushing through summer. I mean, I’ve only been out of school for two weeks!”
“Well, it is a centuries-old tradition,” Nana said.
“I’m just thinking, if it’s a nice day. I mean, it’s sort of like with your garden. You work with nature and get better results, right? So why act like it’s autumn before it is?”
Could I have been less articulate? It was embarrassing, the way I was mixing everything together. I was thinking of Jesse’s seize the day pitch and my garden cards, and, well, I guess I’d just had too much time to think, being up in Cook’s Cottage alone.
“Would you mind some company walking home?” Nana asked.
Oh my gosh, did Nana think I was going psycho? But Nana wasn’t the lecturing type, so maybe I’d be able to explain my outburst.
“I’d like to walk along the shore for a minute,” Nana said once we got outside. She was striding right along, so her leg must not have been bothering her. I guess it was possible my help really had done her some good. “The footrace will be here.” She glanced up and down the shore and then stopped, smiling. “Look.”
A cluster of rocks, furred with moss, held a single tide pool, and the moon’s reflection shone there.
“The moon caught in a tide pool,” I said.
“Or she’s tired of all that vastness,” Nana said, hand sweeping toward the black, star-strewn sky, “and wanted her own little spot.”
I looked intently into the pool. I saw my own reflection amid the stars and rocks and silver dimpled moon.
Then for a single instant, I saw Jesse’s face.
I turned with a gasp, but no one was there.
The Sea Horse Inn sat white-washed and prim behind us, but that was all.
“I thought I saw someone—” I said.
Nana waited patiently.
“Not in the tide pool looking back at me,” I joked, “but reflected.”
I pointed at the space between my ear and shoulder to show her where I’d seen him standing behind me.
“At Midsummer there are all sorts of fairies and elves about,” Nana said. “Perhaps their invisibility is outwitted by water.”
“Maybe,” I said, shaking my head. “Or maybe I’m just seeing things.”
Nana gave my shoulders a squeeze, then she stepped away from the beach, back toward the path. “I’m so glad you’re here this summer, Gwennie. I don’t worry about you being in Cook’s Cottage alone, not even with that boy Jesse around.”
That sounded a little bit like she meant the opposite. Or that she wasn’t worried about my security, but she was worried about sex.
“I trust you,” Nana insisted, and there was so much conviction in her voice, I wasn’t sure I deserved it. “I used to fret over your soft heart, but you’ve toughened it up. A bit too much, if you ask me. But it all comes with your concern over looking—”
“Crazy,” I finished for her.
“You were never crazy.” Nana stumbled a bit and grabbed my arm, but she didn’t lose her train of thought. “Now with a little solitude, you’re finding some balance.”
I laughed. That was just the opposite of what I’d been thinking. Then after we’d walked a way in silence, I asked what she knew about Jesse.
It just went to show that what I told my parents was true. If they left me alone, I’d come to them when I needed help.
“Is he homeless?” I asked. He’d said he lived offshore; that could mean anything.
“I’ve asked around,” Nana told me. “And he is a wanderer. It’s natural people are suspicious, not knowing his family, but there’s some admiration for him, too. Sadie”—she glanced over, checking to be sure I remembered my former teacher, so I nodded—“told me Jesse had a talk with a bookstore customer who’d left a dog locked in a hot car.
“Red says he’s seen Jesse turn away from Zack and his lot when they’re about to cause trouble. He’s an upright kid, cordial unless others give him a reason not to be. And,” Nana lowered her voice to a chuckle, “I hear Shawn McCracken’s quite leery of him.”
It took a second for that to sink in.
“Zack’s dad?”
“Oh yes,” she said.
I thought of the “disciplining” remark Jesse had made and the weird relationship he had with Zack. Jesse had no tolerance for cruelty. Zack seemed to revel in it. But it sounded as if Jesse had faced down Zack’s dad when he was about to beat Zack. If that was true, I was really confused.
Our conversation had taken us within sight of the cottage, and I still had another question to ask.
“Nana, that night—”
“Yes, Gwennie?”
“Why did Thelma say she saw me up on the Point, when I was down on Little Beach? You know that’s where they found me.”
It was quiet for a moment. Waves broke, wind whispered through the sea grass, and I was so close to telling Nana what Jesse had told me.
“It’s a mystery, Gwen.” Nana’s voice was as resolute as it had been when she said she trusted me.
“Haven’t you ever asked her?”
“That would mean disbelieving one of you. Maybe you were one place, then sleepwalked to the other. Maybe she thought she saw you on the Point, and it was a wisp of fog. In any case, you didn’t drown.” Nana smiled.
“Jesse says he’s the boy I saw that night.”
“Ah!”
It would have been an exclamation, simply half of “aha!” except that Nana grabbed at her chest when she said it.
“Are you all right?” I closed around her, supporting her arms with mine.
“For heaven’s sake, yes,” Nana said, shaking me off.
As she did I felt eyes watching us. I didn’t hear a footstep. Nothing couched beside my hedge, up ahead. And the moon was nearly full. I would have seen a lurker. But there was a dark feeling on the beach.
“It’s a surprise, is all,” Nana said. Then a few steps later she added, “But he’s not like other boys, that’s for certain. I would like to meet him if he intends to keep you company.”
“I think he’d like to meet you, too.”
We’d made it through my hedge, into my yard. Sleep tight, little spider, I thought as I looked ahead to my own cottage, snug and safe.
“Want to come in and say hi to Gumbo? I think she’s bored with my company.”
“I’d love it.”
Nana sat down and, to my surprise, turned on the television. The reception wasn’t very good, but together, w
e watched a scratchy transmission of the San Francisco news and gave Gumbo lots of attention.
It wasn’t until Nana got up to leave that she mentioned the shell that Jesse had left sitting on my coffee table.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Not from this coast, I don’t believe.”
“Jesse gave it to me,” I said. “We’re going swimming in the morning.”
“May I hold it just a moment?”
“Sure,” I said.
I should have known better, because suddenly Nana had that half smile on her lips, as if she were scrying.
“It’s a lovely time, Gwennie. Just the two of you, gazing into each others’ eyes, seeing all the best of each other, making one world …”
“Nana! I hardly know him. We’re not making anything!”
“A lovely time,” she repeated as if I hadn’t yelped. “Don’t let others break it apart, but don’t risk too much either.”
“Okay, but you’ve got me confused.”
Nana handed me the shell. Then she scratched Gumbo behind her ears and dismissed her words. “I’m just a sleepy old woman who had best be walking home.”
“Do you want me to drive you?” I asked, thinking of her stumble on the path.
“Pooh, by the time we get down to your car, I’d be halfway home,” Nana said, and then she was hustling out the door.
Still holding the shell, I watched Nana from the window. She turned back once and gave me a wave.
I watched her walk out of sight, then considered the shell again, studying the delicate hinge between its two halves.
Anything could break it apart, because really, what was holding it together?
I set it down lightly, back on the coffee table, and went up to bed.
My morning with Jesse dawned perfect blue and gold. As soon as I opened my eyes I pictured him waiting for me at Little Beach.
I tied on my red two-piece, put my hair in a braid, and gathered what I’d need for work into my backpack. Just in case I was running too late to come back to the cottage to change.
I reached the crest of the last sand dune in time to see him swim around the rocks between the cove and Little Beach.
Graceful, quick, and natural, he was absolutely the best swimmer I’d ever watched.
I ran for the beach, dropped my towel, shucked off my jersey, and hurried out into the water.
I knew I was skipping my mother’s shark-defense checklist, but I couldn’t wait.
“Cold, cold, cold,” I whimpered to myself, trying to get the goose bumps and flailing out of the way before he saw me. “Go!” I made a quick shallow dive and stroked out to him.
He waited, treading water, rising with each wave as it came up behind him. His black hair was slicked back, looking silver because it was so shiny. And I couldn’t deny the way his face brightened because he was glad to see me.
I’d opened my mouth to say “hi” when his arms swung me around. Grabbing for balance, I held his shoulders, and he kept spinning us.
When he finally stopped, I was breathless, and the tail of my braid dripped over my shoulder. He was watching it much too intently, so I dipped lower in the water, letting the next wave lap against my chin.
“Yesterday I didn’t come because I knew we’d be busy—”
He gave a “go on” gesture as if yesterday was forgotten.
“At the Inn,” he said, suddenly looking precise and serious, “you’re getting ready for the solstice?”
“We are,” I said, and though I was still shivering a little, I told him about our preparations. “Are you coming to the bonfires tomorrow night?”
“Of course,” he said. “We’ll be the King and Queen of Summer.”
“Oh, we will?” Why was everyone except me so sure of this?
He nodded. Even treading water he looked cocky.
“There’s the footrace on land—that’s your element, so you’ll have to teach me what to do. And the swim—” He’d obviously given this a lot of thought, because he gave a piece-of-cake roll of his eyes. “You can learn to keep up with me.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a good swimmer,” I scolded, and when I kicked out at him underwater, he caught my ankle with both of his.
Even though we were just playing, he moved amazingly fast. Really, if a shark had come after us, I’m certain he could have backhanded it away.
But it wasn’t Jesse’s quickness that made my stomach grip like a fist.
Once he had my ankle trapped between his, he slid his ankles up. To my calf. My knee. And a little higher.
The feeling left me speechless. For a minute. Then I rushed for something—anything!—to break this spell.
“It … it’s the jumping over fire part that might give us a little trouble,” I babbled, sculling backward in the water, out of his reach.
“It won’t be the first or last of our miracles,” he said smugly.
At least I think he said it. He could have told me by telepathy for all I knew, because we were staring into each other’s eyes so hard it made me dizzy.
Falling forward, I thought, since the minute I’d returned to Mirage Beach, I’d been drawn toward the cove, toward the sea, toward Jesse.
And what had he said to me yesterday? It’s only a swim? Ha.
“It’s not an outright competition though, is it?” he asked. “Gwennie?”
Blurry thoughts came with heightened senses, I guess.
“Huh?” I answered.
“Isn’t there some tradition of last year’s Summer King and Queen choosing?”
“I think so,” I had to look down to be coherent. I watched my hands make little circles under the surface. “And I think they’re more games than competitions.”
“Why can’t you look at me?” he asked.
I can, but I might drown, I thought. But I didn’t say that, thank goodness. I only blurted, “Where shall we go?”
He pointed to a sunny spot decorated with swaying kelp, and then he dove. I threw my head back for a gulp of air, not meaning to fill my eyes with blue sky and sunshine, but I took it with me when I arched after him.
He slowed and swam beside me. Currents surged along our bodies. A forest of sea tangle opened for us. We were surrounded when he suddenly darted in front of me. For a heartbeat we were face-to-face, and then he kissed me.
Is an underwater kiss possible? Can you feel wreaths of bubbles floating through your hair, forming leis around your neck, and not gasp for breath?
I only know he kissed like an ocean god. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling. Then he took my hand and we swam on.
Beneath us yawned a deep blue underwater canyon. The sea felt thick, cool, and dark. The salt didn’t burn my eyes.
As we started up, the green surface grew paler, golden, and then we burst through. Wind seared our faces. Startled gulls rose in squawking clouds. Sea lions rocketed beside us. Their luminous eyes flashed as we moved together toward the cove.
Had we swum from Little Beach, through the kelp forest to the cove on a single breath? Impossible.
“I can’t believe we stayed under so long,” I said, drawing a normal breath.
“I kiss like an ocean god?” he asked, and my heart stopped.
That thought couldn’t have been spoken. I’d been underwater when he’d kissed me. Jesse’s question was no random lucky guess, either.
He could read my mind. It was like being told you had to undress in front of a window if you ever wanted to change clothes.
I wished we’d stayed under water longer.
“Gwen? I asked—”
“I know what you asked, and yes, you do, but don’t think it means anything.”
He laughed, and a cacophony of seabirds flew up around us. I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to hug him. Underwater had been so smooth and simple.
I swung an arm over the water, creating a white wake, and I thought he was going to kiss me then, but he didn’t. He splashed me instead and swam toward the cove.
“I’m not sur
e we should swim in there,” I called after him, and he stopped. “If Bull takes exception to humans, it won’t be pretty.”
“Bull?” he asked.
“That big male sea lion with the jutting caveman forehead.”
He gave me a superior look. “He’s gone. Besides, he won’t bother me.”
“Well, he might bother me,” I said. “And there’s another one. A young male, I’m pretty sure, with an old cut across his nose.” I took one hand from the water to make a quick slashing motion across my own nose. “He plays pretty rough.”
I’d said too much. Jesse had already saved me from drowning once. He’d probably think I was accident prone, or a lousy swimmer, hearing I’d almost drowned a second time. But he’d latched onto another part of what I’d said.
“You’re ‘pretty sure’ he’s a male?” Jesse asked.
“The black sea lion? Yeah, well, you know. I didn’t check.”
Once more, Jesse’s laughter sent seabirds scattering.
“You go ahead to the cove if you want to,” I told him. When you were swimming with a tanned and muscled merman, it was probably a good idea to stay away from discussions of gender differences.
Still, I worried that he’d be hurt.
“Sea lions are at the top of the food chain around here, you know, and those teeth—” I shuddered. “I’m not chancing it.”
His uppity look vanished, and he nodded with sudden understanding. “I think of danger when I swim along Mirage Beach. It’s where I’m supposed to die.”
“What? There is no supposed to about dying.”
“Death in the green grotto,” he said as if he were reciting. “That’s where it will happen.”
“How do you—Why do you think—?”
“I’ve always known,” he said, and the spell that had held me in the kelp forest started to fade.
If he could read my mind, could he read the future?
And then he did something totally unexpected. He hugged me, but his head tipped down beneath my chin. His cheek pressed to my throat. He still held me up, but I was looking down on the black glossiness of his hair. When I stroked it, he sighed, and I felt this incredible wave of … tenderness.
Oh my God. This is like falling in love. I might be falling in love. But I couldn’t. It was happening too fast. He was too weird and I was too young. Nothing made sense.