Beyond the Rising Tide (26 page)

“Charles,” I say quietly. “Has anyone ever been brought back to life?”

The look of pity that comes over his face is too hard to take. I have to look away. “You know the answer to that.”

“Well, yeah. I’ve seen people healed who are on the brink of death, or barely dead. But what about those whose death has been sealed?”

He sits on the floor beside me, folding his legs beneath him. I never saw him sit that way when he was alive. His old body just wouldn’t bend that way. And looking at his face now, he appears younger, as though he’s been slowly aging in reverse without my noticing. His hair is fuller, the wrinkles around his eyes less pronounced. Instead of seventy-two, he looks maybe in his fifties. “Sure, it happens,” he says. “But usually with those who haven’t been dead for very long. I’m sure you’ve heard stories of people waking up in morgues or coffins.”

“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 composure, 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.