Lingering Echoes (12 page)

“Whew!
It gets pretty cold right here. There’s only one thing to do.” Without warning, he dove into the water, his whole body disappearing. Losing sight of him, familiar anxiety crept into my chest. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until Damien resurfaced twenty-five feet away, treading water.

Damien swam back over to where he could stand in the water, waist deep again. He shook his head, throwing water droplets into the air. Then he ran both his hands over his face and through his thick hair, slicking it back. His pale shirt suctioned against his chest, outlining every muscle.

“It’s not so bad once you get all the way in,” he commented. He reached out with one hand, still a good ten feet away. “Come on.”

I shook my head
in defiance.

He
persisted. “You said the other night you wanted help, right? This water is as calm as you can get. It’s safe.” Now it was his eyes that summoned me. His next words were slow, deliberate, his voice deep. “What are you afraid of, Allie?”

I stared at him with terror in my green eyes, barric
ading the tears that threatened to spill. Disbelief shrouded my face, my voice quivering as I spoke with an edge of anger. “What am I afraid of? Are you really asking me that?”

Damien didn’t waver, his hand still reaching for mine. He waited.

I trembled, swallowing the burning lump in my throat. My voice was hushed, a whisper that exposed the aching in my soul.

“
I’m afraid of how the water feels when it swallows you whole. It doesn’t care who you are, or who you love. I’m afraid to sleep, to dream...to remember over and over again why I know how that feels.” I was mildly aware that I had removed my shoes, my eyes locked on Damien’s.

“I’m afraid of the hatred I feel inside myself, for surviving when she didn’t.”
A single tear escaped the blockade, sliding down my cheek. One foot stepped into the water. I watched it disappear.

“Allie,
you can trust me.” Damien took a step towards me, beseeching my compliance.

In that moment, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe he could make all my fears and pains go away, and release them from the snare inside of me. A shiver ran through me as I immersed the lower half of my body into the crystal pool. I waded towards Damien, reaching my own hand out to his.

My mind swirled with frightening memories of a cold, rushing river, but as the tips of my fingers touched his, the fear receded. His hand enclosed around mine, until my trepidation was all but forgotten.

Then he pulled me close, wrapping me into the sanctuary of his arms. Safe and secure, I held onto him like a buoy, the side of my face pressed against his solid chest.
I could feel Damien breathing in and out, slow and relaxed, his chest expanding and contracting alongside my cheek. When I was able to let go and stand on my own, I cast my eyes across the surrounding water.              

We were our own little island. I closed my e
yes, listening to the waterfall, a constant trickling of water reminiscent to that of filling up a tub. Birds sang inside the trees above us, high-pitch chirping as they called to one another.

Damien brushed hair out of my face with a sweep of his hand. “You ok?” he asked.

My eyes opened and I nodded with a relaxed smile, despite the shiver that shook my body. I rubbed at the goose bumps on my arms.

“Sorry. The water’s not as warm as the l
ake.” Damien peered at the waterfall, and then back at me. “Feel like swimming?”

Another one hundred and fifty
feet of water distanced us from the waterfall. A small wave of anxiety returned, but I agreed.

Seeming in tune with my feelings,
Damien took my hand. “Let’s go. I’ll stay by your side the whole time.” He was true to his word. I kept my head above the surface, kicking my legs and pulling my arms against the water. Damien stroked beside me in our gradual pace, keeping his eyes on me. I offered a small smile, observing the peacefulness encircling us—the calmness of the water, the serenity of nature.

And then I felt it
—an old, yet familiar, yearning to immerse myself in the water. I indulged the forgotten desire, plunging headfirst below the surface. For the first time in a year, I enjoyed the thrill of being engulfed by water. I twisted my body, swirling and pulling myself through the chilled spring until I could no longer hold my breath.

I emerged with a splash, breaking through the surface. Damien was treading afloat
not far behind me, surprise and satisfaction on his face. My blood raced, warming my body.

“I’ll race you!” I called back to him, laughing when he protested my
lengthy advantage. We dove forward, kicking and splashing to one side of the waterfall. The weight of my clothes slowed me down, but the strong muscle memory of my limbs heaved me forward. I was within three arm’s lengths away from the wall of rock, when a large hand grabbed my left ankle, anchoring me back. My head popped out of the water, and I gasped with laughter, fighting to break free of Damien’s grasp. I splashed at him and he released me, taking off for the finish line.

“You’re a cheater!” I hollered, wiping water from my eyes when he surpassed me. He rested against th
e rocks, his breaths heavy.

“Y
ou’re the one that gave yourself the head start,” he argued, laughing with me. He put out his hand, pulling me up beside him. My feet found the ledge he was standing on, elevating my torso above the water. Leaning against the rocks behind us, I caught my breath. I looked back along the pool of water.

“Wow. I forgot how good that feels. I can’t believe I did it.” I smiled at Damien.

“I knew you could do it.” He took my hand. “Come on. Here’s the best part.”

He guided me across the natural bench beneath our feet, leading us under the overhang of the waterfall. We were enclosed in a small space, a blurry wall of tumbling water dividing us from the outside world. The wall of rock behind us was damp and cool, shiny and green with moss. We both became quiet as we looked at each other, our chests pulsing in and out as we caught our breaths. Moments passed without another word, with the
sound of the falling water at our side.

Damien sighed
and pulled me against him, placing his hand on the back of my head. I felt him tilt his head towards the concrete ceiling above us, debating his thoughts. His heart pounded through his chest, drumming in my ear. My beating heart resembled his, but I could feel his hesitancy, an unspoken indecision.

Keeping my face against him, with my arms wrapped around his back, I
echoed his own question. “What are you afraid of, Damien?”

His response was slow, his hands clutching me against his body. “I’m no good for you. I’m afraid f
or you to know what I’ve done.”

I lifted my head, twisting around to look
up at him. His eyes met mine, a pale, somber glow in the dimness of our damp enclosure. We were both silent for a moment.

“Who are you, Damien
?”

He turned his head
, staring through the blockade of water. I felt a quiet sigh heave inside his chest.

“I’m not a good person, Allie."

My brow furrowed, studying his face. His expression hardened, shielding himself from my probing eyes, but he wasn’t quick enough. I caught a glimpse of lingering despair—an emotion I knew all too well myself.

I shook my head, looking down at the rippling water. My voice was quiet. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well, you should.” Damien’s sudden movement took me by surprise. With one hand on my chin, he lifted my face. His eyes moved back and forth against mine, touched with a hint of anger. Yet, I knew the emotion wasn’t directed at me. My breaths became shallow. I looked up at him with apprehension but didn’t pull away.

In an instant, Damien’s face softened.
A gentle hand caressed the side of my face in one motion, wiping the dripping water. Then his face lowered, his soft, full lips pressing against mine. His mouth opened, enclosing around the folds of my lips.

A shiver ran through my spine. My mouth moved with his, the insides of my stomach tingling. I put my hand behind his neck, pulling him harder towards me. Our bodies radiated warmth against each other, no longer chilled by the water.

And then Damien’s gentle hands were on my shoulders, pushing us apart.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done
that.” He ran a hand through his wet hair.

With my cheeks flushed, I turned away, trying to focus on the blurry veil crashing down beside us. “Why are you sorry?”

Damien seemed to struggle with his thoughts. “People might not think it’s such a good idea.”

“Pe
ople? What people?”

Damien sighed in frustration.
“Well, your dad for one. Don’t try and tell me he’ll be pleased you’re hanging out with an older guy.”

“
You’re not that old.” I looked him up and down. “Are you?”

Damien la
ughed. “I turned nineteen in March. Not ancient, but old enough. Also, the people around here...well, the locals around the lake and from downtown, they all know me.”

I raised an eyebrow.
“So what? Are you betrothed or something?”

“It’s a small town. And they just like to talk. I wouldn’t want to get you involved in any of that.”

“Well, what do they talk—?”

Damien put his fingers against my lips, cutting me off.

“I have a better idea.” He took my hand, and we exited the enclosure of the waterfall. I blinked my eyes at the brilliance of the sun.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I have something for you but it’s in my bag.” Damien’s smile played with me, eyeing the distance we had swam once already. “You up for another race?”

I rolled my eyes
but smiled. “Fine. You’re on.”

Soaked and dripping, I stepped out of the water, leaning a hand on Damien’s bac
k for support.

“You’re—
a really good—swimmer,” I said between breaths, laughing at my exhaustion.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he commented. “Hey, don’t sit down yet.” He grabbed my arm, preventing my body from plopping on the ground.

“But I’m tired! I can’t swim as well as I can run.”

Damien picked up the duffle bag and unzipped it.
Pulling out a blue blanket, he fluffed it out onto the ground. “Here you go. Now you can sit.”

“What have you got there?” I asked, peering into the bag. Damie
n put a good-natured hand on my shoulder and forced me to the ground.

“Like I said.
Have a seat.”

“Oh, fine.” I crossed my legs and waited. Damien sat down next to me and pulled out two brown paper bags. He handed one to me.

“Here you go.”

I made a curious face
, and then I took the bag from his hand, eying it with suspicion. “What is this?” The bag crinkled as I unfolded the top and peeked inside. I laughed out loud. I pulled out a sandwich and waved it in the air.

“Did
you make us lunch?”

Damien flushed.
“Yeah. I made us lunch. But if you want to make fun of me for it—” He tried to seize the sandwich from my hand. I leaned away, laughing.

“No, no! I’m sorry! I want it
; I do want it.” I wrestled it out of his reaching arms. “What else do we have here...?” I stuck my hand in the bag, pulling out an apple and a small bag of Doritos. Damien wouldn’t meet my gaze. I pinched a smile, feeling embarrassed myself at the thoughtful and unexpected gesture.

“Thank you,” I said
, putting a hand on his arm. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, let’s not get carried away here. It’s just
peanut butter and jelly.” He tossed me a Gatorade. “But I thought you might get hungry.”

“I am.” I chewed on a sticky bite.
“Mmm...You’re quite the chef.” A mischievous grin escaped my lips. Irritated, Damien folded his arms across his chest.

“Keep it up and see what happens.”

I looked at him in mock disbelief. “Are you threatening me now?”

“Maybe I’ll leave you at home next time.” He tore open his bag of chips.

“Well, as long as you’re considering a ‘next time.’” I caught a trace of a smile along his lips, despite his efforts to ignore me. He picked up his sandwich.

“So,” I c
ontinued. “I was wondering. Do I get to know where you’re from?”

Dam
ien leaned back on one arm. “Hayward. Not far from Oakland.”

“Hayward, really?”
I dropped my jaw in surprise. “I grew up in Danville before my parents split. That’s only thirty minutes away from you. If you were like my family, I bet your parents brought you up to Hidden Pines a ton, with it only being two hours away.”

“We came up often enough.”

“Huh. I wonder if we ever ran into each other?” I shook my head, softening my voice. “No, probably not. I think I’d remember you.” I munched on my sandwich in thought. “So what do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t imagine you just vacation up in the mountains all year long. Are you in college? Do you have a job? That kind of thing.” I swallowed a mouthful of Gatorade while I awaited an answer.

“You’re trying to figure out if I’m a bum or not,” Damien stated.

I opened my mouth in protest. “Well, no, not exactly! It’s obvious you’re not a bum. You have a nice cabin and an expensive bike, and despite your constant scruff, you aren’t carrying around the obligatory, overgrown beard. But unless you’re living your life on credit, I was just curious what you do every day.”

Damien crumpled up his bag of chips. I wondered if I offended him. Was it rude of me to ask? Maybe school and work
was a sensitive subject. Maybe—

“I work at
Eastridge Lodge,” Damien answered, interrupting my guilty thoughts.

“Oh, yeah.
I’ve heard of Eastridge. It’s that huge ski resort, at least during winter. What do they do during the summer?”

“
Some of the slopes are turned into water slides. And they have lifts for mountain bike runs or hikes, horseback riding, and, of course, shopping for the ladies.”

“
So are you the guy that sits by the lift and makes sure the riders don’t face plant when they get on or off?”

Damien laughed. “I’ve done some of that. They make for some en
tertaining stories. But no, uh, I do more managerial stuff these days.” His eyes no longer met mine.

“Managerial
...well, that’s impressive,” I said. “That’s one of the more ritzy resorts around these parts.”

“It’s something to do,” Damien said, brushing off my compliment.

Curious, I eyed Damien, but he still wasn’t meeting my gaze. I tried to appreciate that this was more information in one sitting than I’d ever heard from him.

My eyes ran across the transparency of his
T-shirt, still wet from our swim.

“Hey
....” I put down my food and leaned over his body, examining his left bicep. My fingers folded up his sleeve to expose the tattooed letters across his muscle. I traced the lines of the inked image with one finger.

“
U-S-O? I’ve been meaning to ask. What does this mean?”

Damien took my hand and moved it away. “It’s nothing. Just a phase I was in when I was a kid.”

Doubtful, I said, “Oh, come on. Everybody’s tattoo means something.” Damien’s lack of response encouraged my intrigue. “Ok, let me guess, and you tell me if I’m hot or cold: You were in the military and it’s a code for top-secret information—one you’d have to kill me for if you told me.”

Damien rolled his eyes, but he seemed
amused.

“Ok, I get it.
Completely cold. Which is too bad because my next guess was going to be a secret agent for the government, but those two are kind of related so...what about a band you were in, or at least a crazed fan of? No? How about an old girlfriend’s initials! Or worse...a one-night stand?” I made a face, hoping I was wrong.

“Really,”
he said, folding down his sleeve. “It’s not a big deal. Just something stupid I did one night and haven’t gotten removed yet.”

The amusement was gone from Damien’s face, followed by an almost irritated uneasiness.
I decided not to press the issue anymore. Instead, I was quiet for a minute, my thoughts reflecting on the afternoon. I looked out at the shimmering water, still feeling a little surreal about the whole experience.

“Damien,
why did you bring me here?” My inquiry seemed to catch him off guard. He stopped mid-chew, mulling over an answer.

“Well, I suppose it’s the least I could do, considering you trusted me enough to tell me about last summer. I thought it’d make you happy to be in the water again
, once I convinced you. You did say you wanted help, after all.” His expression became somber. “And selfishly, I wanted to be the reason to make you smile.”

The e
motions of the day caught up with me all at once. “I never thought I’d go in the water again,” I admitted. “Ever.” I matched his gaze. “Thank you for helping me. I see now that’s what you were trying to do the other day with the canoe.”

Damien brushed a tangled strand of hair away from my face. His hand lingered along my
jawline. “You deserve to be happy.”

There
it was again, a tiny shadow of heartbreak in his eyes.

“So do you,” I said. My hand reached up to touch his. “Are you, Damien? Happy?”

The shadow dissipated. “I am with you,” he answered. He kissed my cheek with a soft touch of his lips. He stood up and offered his hand. “Come on. We better get back before your family is worried.”

***

Aaron, Nick, and Brooke were huddled together by the clubhouse when I found them. They were all dressed in damp swim attire, seated under the awning. Brooke’s shoulders glowed a sensitive, sunburned red. Their attention was directed at a handful of pages that were sprawled flat on the table.

“Hey, there you guys are! Did you have fun on the boat?” I asked, standing next to them. My smile dropped, seeing the expressions on their faces as they turned to me, a culmination of anger, concern, and relief. All except Nick, of course. He threw an
apathetic glance in my direction, returning to the game he was playing on his cell phone.

Aaron stood up, gripping a page in his hand as he approached me.

“Are you crazy? You knew and you still went with him? And after what we talked about?” He didn’t hide the anger in his voice as he loomed over me. Dumbfounded, I stepped back from him in surprise, my gaze resting on Brooke’s guilty figure. She was hunched over, biting her lower lip.

“Allie, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for them to read it.”

Aaron cut in. “Don’t apologize! It’s better that we all know.”

Nick offered a comment of his own, still laid
back in his chair, one leg resting on the edge of the table. “Man, Allie. I knew you were dumb, but I mean, come on. You got to at least be smarter than this.”

I g
lared at all of them but stepped towards Nick. Aaron held me back with a hand against my shoulder. I flung him off, exasperation loud in my voice. “What are you all talking about?”

Aaron
shook the page in my face. “How could you read this stuff and go off on your own with him again? Didn’t you listen to anything I said the other day?”

I pulled the page out of his hands, scanning the large words printed at the top o
f the page. There were also pages on the table. Headlines. They were all headlines.

“That’s none of your business. I didn’t even have a chance to read all of them. Why do you have these, anyway?” My eyes flew to Brooke’s face. She was close to tears.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “Allie, I meant to put them in your room, but I left them on the dining table when I went inside your cabin. Aaron happened to see them and—”

“And we read them,” Aaron finished for her, unrepentant in his approach.

“What is the big deal?” I asked, flabbergasted. “It was just a little research about the ghost story. Aaron, why are you so mad?”

“Maybe you should finish reading them,” Nick said, a smug expression slithering across his arrogant face.

I studied the page in my hand, reading every word. The headline read familiarly:
Son of Jonathan Michaels inherits 3.3 million in life insurance, despite being a person of interest in the suspicious deaths of his family.

I read on
:
Three months after the death of his parents, Damien Michaels, recently turned 18, was awarded 3.3 million dollars, as indicated in the beneficiary clause of his parents’ life insurance policy. Michaels’ large inheritance continues to fuel speculation about his involvement in the fire that killed his parents and ten-year-old sister. Even close friends of the family are not convinced Michaels is unassociated.

Brian Watson, a neighbor of twenty years, stated, “Damien and his father’s relationship
had struggled for a long time. I have witnessed physical altercations between them where Damien was out of control. It would not be far-fetched to think he might have done this.”

Initial reports from the fire marshal indicate an accelerant may have been used to start the fire.
Michaels continues to be a person of interest in the ongoing investigation. Hidden Pines Police Department declined to extrapolate on Michaels’ potential as a suspect.

My eyes highlighted the name on the page.

Damien. Damien. Damien.

Stunned, I dropped the paper from my hands. It fluttered to the ground, gliding back and forth until
it hit the ground.

“How
...do we know it’s the same Damien?” My question sounded desperate, but I realized I didn’t even know his last name.

Brooke handed me another page
with hesitancy, her eyes full of pity.