Waterborn (The Emerald Series Book 1) (18 page)

W
hen I was
fourteen I’d scoured Amazon and Netflix for any movies that had to do with the beach. It was an obsession that began when my dad had refused to let me go with my friend Molly to Panama City for spring break. He’d taken me skiing in Colorado instead. I’d hated every minute of it. Not that I couldn’t ski—I did well enough—but it was just too cold. My hands and feet stayed frozen the whole time and I suffered from altitude sickness, and the best part of every day had been the white chocolate mocha after coming down from the slopes.

I’d come home in a rebellious mood and watched every movie known to man that had anything to do with the beach. One particular movie struck a chord with me, a decades-old, cheesy chick flick that I watched over and over about two kids who survived a shipwreck and were stranded on a deserted island. They’d grown into teenagers, fallen in love, and had a baby, all in this beautiful backdrop of an island paradise. I remembered sobbing, being inexplicably heartbroken, when their little family was rescued, imagining it the unhappiest ending ever. Who would want to leave such a paradise?

I wondered now, as I followed Noah down the slope of sand on the most beautiful stretch of beach I had ever seen, if even then my subconscious had been trying to tell me something, clue me in to the fact that a part of me lay dead inside my body, desperate to be awakened.

“You okay?” Noah turned around, his eyes sparkling like the sun-dappled water behind him. The pearl around his neck shimmered seemingly with a life of its own, almost magical. That’s what the place that Noah had brought me to felt like—magical, like our own blue lagoon. A beautiful, pristine paradise made all the more beautiful because I was here with Noah. And because of him, I no longer had to be afraid. I was nervous, but more in an excited way than with any real fear.

I nodded then waded into the green water. It reminded me of the bowls of water I’d used as a little girl when my Nana and I had dyed Easter eggs together—bright and happy. Noah had easily dispelled my misgivings with the confidence he had in me. With my hand cradled in his, he pulled me deeper into the water until it reached my chest. Water seeped into my pores, easing a thirst that was at that point unquenchable.

He presented me with his back and the broad expanse of his shoulders. My hands hovered over him. I didn’t know why I would be suddenly shy about touching him. We’d touched before. On two of those occasions my life had been in danger and on the other it had been a necessity. But this time, though it was still a necessary, it was also for fun, for the sheer pleasure of being together. Friends, I reminded myself. We were just friends.

“It’s not that hard, Caris. Just put your hands on my shoulders. They’re coming.” He cocked his head at me, offering a prolific view of the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones. I knew he had been joking with me on the bed last night, but he really was pretty to look at.

I decided to quit acting like a love-struck tweener. My hands curled around his neck. “Who’s coming?” Water gurgled in my mouth as he submerged us in a shallow dive.

Noah glided forward in a ribbon of motion like a flag blowing in a light breeze. My hands slid to his shoulders, my body mirroring his. Silky hair caressed my wrists as his muscles worked under my fingers. I didn’t know what my body craved more; the embrace of the Deep or Noah’s nearness. Want blurred the lines, making them one and the same.

Adrenaline coursed through my blood making me feel wild and free. The sheer strength of his movements and the undulation of his hips and legs as he spurred us forward, sparked longing—longing for me to be able to let go and do this on my own.

The moment was perfect, marred only by the weight of my imperfection. Heaviness lingered in my legs, and for the moment I ignored the sensation, feeling only the welcome embrace of the water and the peace that grew in the muted silence. Mere seconds might have passed, or minutes, or maybe even an hour.

I heard the dolphins before I saw them, my ears pricking to their high-pitched whistles mixed with a crackle of static—a cacophony of voices coming at us as dark shadows at first, slowly taking shape. My heart picked up its beat on a thread of excitement. Noah came to a near stand still, the slow flutter of his feet holding us in place. He drifted with me as my feet dropped and my toes curled in the sand. Noah offered me a reassuring glance. My hand slid from his in a reluctant release of fingertips. He circled around me, joining the carousel of sleek gray bodies in a parade of perpetual nodding smiles. The dolphins darted about, curious and playful. One nudged my ribs in invitation.

Come play with me
.

Noah was familiar to them and they seemed to welcome him as one of their own. I had never seen him so carefree and happy. This was his world, the one place he could be himself. I wondered if I would ever call this place home. If I would ever be as comfortable here as he was. I realized as I watched him that he had a voice too. It mingled with all the others, but I could pick it out—his own distinctive sound.

Something else processed through my mind, snapshots one after the other, like pictures in a slide show. I’d learned some about echolocation in school, but to experience it for myself was something else altogether. What my eyes couldn’t quite pick up in the murkiness of the water, my brain somehow did, taking those sounds and processing them into pictures.

I closed my eyes and listened, testing my theory. I found Noah, picking out his shape among all the others of fins and flukes. The echoes of sound reflected back a perfect picture of Noah, long arms and legs gliding in front of me. I opened my eyes again and he smiled at me as if he knew I was in the midst of a new discovery.

He slingshot toward me, grabbing my arm as he bulleted past. My legs flew out behind me as he dragged me through the water. The dolphins gave chase, nipping playfully at my toes. I squealed, encouraging Noah to go faster.

Noah released my arm and I drifted back to the bottom caught in a dizzying game of monkey in the middle. One of the dolphins swam past, a male I hadn’t noticed before, bigger than the rest. He clipped me on the back of the shoulder, not an entirely playful gesture. A few seconds later he came back and bumped me again, this time with bruising force. Then he circled me once, twice. The third time I started to get nervous. His harsh signature was commanding. Threatening.

Noah torpedoed right at him and rammed him in the side with his shoulder, herding the male dolphin away from me. They bumped and prodded, and every time the dolphin tried to cut towards me, Noah cut him off, his agility and precision of movement matching the dolphin’s. This wasn’t a game anymore. At one point Noah hauled off and punched the dolphin in the side of the head. After that the dolphin lost interest and swam idly away, casting us a few backward glances during his retreat. The others seemed to tire of us too, and I watched them go until every last one of them were nothing but a distant impression.

Noah swam over to me and laced his fingers with mine, eyes searching through a veil of feathering hair. He moved closer, cupping my face with his hands. His thumbs caressed my cheeks. I had never wanted something and not wanted something so much at the same time. A kiss would change everything. His lips were so close, a mere wisp away. But I’d made him promise, and I knew he’d keep that promise.

I tucked my fingers under the waistband on the back of Noah’s shorts and with one powerful kick of his legs I was floating. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of Noah’s body moving underneath me, thinking I could so go to sleep riding on Noah’s back.

Noah tapped me on the leg, and when I opened my eyes they followed the path of his pointing finger. A shark swam parallel with us some twenty yards away. Eyes captivating in the side-to-side swivel of its triangular head—dark and menacing. The eyes of a predator. Eyes I had seen before in Sol’s face before he had cut me and tossed me overboard.

The shark glided away without the slightest hint he’d even seen us.

A few minutes later we collapsed on the sand, both of us on our backs, faces skyward. After I caught my breath, my head fell to the side.

“You didn’t tell me I would be able to
see
out there.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d pick that up pretty quick. You’re good with the sound stuff. Better than I am,” he said, begrudgingly offering me the compliment.

“So, there is something I’m better at than you.” I smiled, the feeling of superiority fading in the shadow of my one remaining failure. “I really, really want to swim,” I said, almost a whisper.

“I know.” His fingers curled around mine, an apology in his eyes.

We stared at each other, nothing quiet about the silence that stretched on and on. I’d had a few boyfriends before and I’d never made it a secret that I liked to kiss. My Nana and I had talked about it a lot. Her advice had always been to kiss them first and ask questions later, because there was no sense in wasting time on a boy if his kiss didn’t create fireworks.

I wondered, while lying next to Noah, what she would say if I told her I didn’t even have to kiss him for fireworks to explode. All he had to do was look at me and my breath came fast and shallow. My insides felt like chocolate melting under a hot sun, and the most delicious sensation of awareness traveled its way up and down my entire body. What would she say to that?

I opened my mouth and laughed because I had to let those butterflies escape before they did permanent damage to my heart and stomach.

“What’s so funny?” He smiled back.

I freaking loved his smile. “You, punching that dolphin. Is that even legal?”

“He was testing me, seeing if I was willing to share.”

“Share?”

“Yeah. Males are especially aggressive when it comes to mating, and they’re horny sons of bitches, and not always species discriminate.”

“Ugh.” That put a whole new perspective on things. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about having a dolphin come on to me.

“Yeah, just be careful and don’t assume you’re safe when you encounter a pod on your own, which eventually you will. And if you ever come across a small group of males, swim like hell.” Noah rolled over on his side and rested his head on his elbow. “Just so you know, I’m not willing to share. I’m also waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For you to ask.”

W
hen I got home
from the most incredible and at the same time the most disappointing day of my life, it was with an utter sense of loss. The crash after a supreme high. Something I didn’t know I held slipped though my fingers today, and I didn’t know how to get it back. Like a parting of two halves, distancing me from all I knew and what I thought I knew, distancing me from my dad.

I missed him. I just didn’t know how to forgive him, not when every day it became clearer what he and my mother had stolen from me. I was beginning to resent her too, this woman I had only met through an old black and white photograph.

The house was quiet and I thought about skipping upstairs to avoid seeing my dad, but I was thirsty and needed a shot of sweet tea from the refrigerator.

My dad was in the kitchen. He sat on a stool at the island reading the paper, an unopened box of donuts in the center of the counter. They’d been there for two days and remained untouched. My eyes skidded over him, blind to the dark circles that shadowed his eyes, the tired lines around his mouth and his generally pale appearance, as if he hadn’t been outside for days. I went straight to the refrigerator and opened the door, then seemed to forget what I wanted. Oh, yeah, I wanted my old dad back. The one that wasn’t a liar and a manipulator. Too bad he no longer existed.

The back of my neck tingled with knowing. It occurred to me then that he might want the same thing, the old Caris back. The Caris that would have been able to talk to him about Noah and what I might feel for him. How I warred with wanting to be with him and at the same time was so afraid of hurting him. Did my dad want the Caris that could leave here and go back home? Was it his plan to dump me here and wash his hands of me once and for all?

“Where have you been?” Paper shuffled behind me. I turned enough to give him a scathing look, like he had no right to ask.

“I’ve been with Noah.” I left it at that, being evasive on purpose.

“That’s good you’re spending time together. How are you?”

It was an innocent enough question, but I knew the meaning behind it.

I slammed the refrigerator door, thirst forgotten.

“Do you mean how am I progressing as an extraordinary being?” I looked up at the ceiling and pretended to go through a mental catalog. “As you can see, I can put my hair in a ponytail.” I pulled my sunglasses off the top of my head and tossed them on the island. “I can breathe water now. So you’re off the hook on that one. No more worrying Caris might drown. And really, you can drop the looks. They’re as fake now as they’ve ever been. Can’t swim yet.” I snagged the box of donuts off the counter. I headed for the stairs and the sanctuary of my room.

“Caris, that’s not what I meant. I’m more interested in how
you
are. I just want to know you’re all right. And tell you, if you need me, I’m still here.”

I whirled on him, taking satisfaction in the fact that I towered over him on the steps. He stood at the bottom, one foot poised on the first step, hand curled on the banister.

“Need you? I needed you to tell me the truth.”

“How long?” He sounded so lost.

I sucked in a breath, fortifying my determination to not care and looked sideways through the porthole window. The sun was beginning its descent and it promised to be a spectacular sunset. The kind we would ordinarily enjoy together. My anger waned and, just like the sunset, I knew it would be gone soon, but also like the sunset, it wouldn’t go out without one last burst of intensity. I planned on clinging to it every last second. Anger was better than the hurt I knew was coming. The guilt that shimmered just underneath, because if I allowed myself to think about it, my dad had suffered as much as I had. It was still hard to believe this person I had trusted and loved had found it so easy to steal my very identity.