Spring Tide (11 page)

I got my car from Nick’s, dismissed Derek’s prying questions about what I’d been doing, and went home. I was coming out of the shower when Deborah called to talk to me about The Bakery. She sounded exhausted, as exhausted as I was.
And that’s all that happened this morning. I’m tired and imagined the moment and those feelings.
But I knew I hadn’t imagined it. Dripping wet with a towel held to my chest, I wasn’t cold even though the air conditioning blew across my skin. I still felt his warmth as though he were standing behind me, his arm draped across my shoulders.
Everything’s okay. I’m just goin’ crazy.

In an effort to keep my sanity, I sat down on the bed with a notebook in my lap and a pencil in my hand. My mind recounted the measures I’d heard earlier in the morning. They were simple but too profound to be lost, and I penned the notes on a blank sheet. It wasn’t enough for a refrain, but I couldn’t let something so perfect slip away. I finished, smiled, and then saw Sarah standing by my dresser.

“I’m off to Pilates. Can you do me a favor?” She pulled at the waist of her yoga pants.

“Sure.”

“Don’t pick up my stuff and don’t wash my towels again. Don’t clean!”

But the lampshades are all dusty.

For the next three weeks, when I wasn’t working and he wasn’t at the marina, Jericho was with me. He had a knack for showing up whenever I was on the beach or at Nick’s, alone or with Sarah. Considering his looks, I should’ve been a stuttering mess but when I was with him I was very relaxed. I became accustomed to the feeling of his hand in my hair and a sense of calm that came with it. He also had me doing push-ups every few days, preparation for being able to pop up on a board. He had the decency to do them with me and didn’t laugh when I maxed out at seventeen the first time. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to learn to surf. It seemed fun enough, but looked super-crazy hard. And surfing wasn’t like hitting a tennis ball. The ocean was dynamic, its waves in a constant state of flux. And water was destructive, arguably the most powerful force on earth. He assured me I’d be comfortable and we’d take it in steps, unlike Boy Wonder’s philosophy of “monkey see, monkey do.”

I didn’t know anything about Jericho’s sport and his taste in tunes was borderline acceptable, but we found middle ground for conversation like childhood phobias, local news, and cars. I was deathly afraid of jellyfish, he had a fear of bees, and we shared a great dislike of coral snakes. He hated Brussels sprouts. He couldn’t believe I didn’t like chips or fries and the idea that he didn’t eat peanut butter was unthinkable. Everyone likes peanut butter.

It really seemed we had nothing in common. Except that from time to time, when I was working on something, a song in my head, I’d see his head swaying a bit. I knew the signs: music fueled his soul just like it did mine.

_______

I’d left my book at his house and stopped by to retrieve it on a Tuesday afternoon. A woman answered the door. I stood there slack-jawed, my brain refusing to put two and two together because she couldn’t have been older than thirty-three and was way too cool.

“Sourdough!” I smiled big. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hi, Kris. I’ve missed you and my morning éclairs. Come in, sweetie, and excuse the mess. This is my husband, Donovan.”

I entered a tidy house and waved to a man who was sitting on the couch, reading a manual of some sort. His feet were flat on the floor, his back straight.

He glanced up at me for a second, an awkward smile within his William Tell beard. “Hello.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yes.”

She sat at an easel in the center of the room. I peeked over her shoulder at a painting of the ocean threshing a cliff side.

I motioned to the walls. “Omigosh, did you do all of them?”

“Some of them are paintings and some of them give me bad dreams but Donovan hangs them up anyway.”

“Stop it. They’re beautiful.” I put two fingers to my temple. “I’m sorry, but what is your name, McCartney?”

“Julia McCarthy, but I like Sourdough.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I left a book on the deck and was hoping it was still here.”

She stretched left and took my read off the credenza. “Are you here for Jason?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Jason.”

I looked around, unsure.

She giggled. “Jericho. I forget that I’m the only person who calls him by his first name. What’s your bakery name for him?”

“He didn’t have one, but he’d probably be Muffin-Sometimes-Cookies. I haven’t heard from him for a couple of days, so I guess I decided to be nosy and come over under the pretense of getting this book. I’m a little embarrassed to be admitting that.”

“Don’t be. We have a fishing operation in Maine. If there are problems with the boats, Jason often goes to oversee the work. I expect he’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Really? Wow, that’s kinda—” I stopped myself from finishing the sentence because it was absolutely none of my business.

“Like no one in Maine knows how to fix a motor?”

“I was gonna say real expensive.”

“It is. The captains handle most of the work, but the guy we’ve been using for the major repairs retired. Jason’s there to get the new guy up to speed on the armada.”

I eyed Donovan again. I swore I’d seen him before. Or maybe it was that Julia had described him to me, called him stern or authoritative and then laughed like crazy. He did seem pretty stiff. Opposites attract.

When Jericho had told me he lived with friends of his parents, I’d pictured them to be older, like my mom. I wasn’t disappointed; Sourdough was one of my favorite people. The strange thing was that she didn’t seem surprised to see me at her back door.

_______

After work, I waited for Derek’s last table to clear and we went to Nick’s. I made a couple of cheese sandwiches, the fridge and pantry having nothing better to offer, as usual.

He went out to the patio. “Jericho’s an okay guy.”

I put my hand on my chest. “I’m so happy you approve.”

“I didn’t say I approved. Walk?”

“’Kay.”

We ambled down the beach and he told me about his new temp job in Rockport, a stone’s throw from Pam’s place. I couldn’t blame him for giving Crazy Jim’s his notice. He wasn’t making nearly enough to cover his fall tuition. And he always got stuck cleaning the men’s room, which was totally beneath him.

I touched his arm. “I’ve offered before, but seriously, you can have my insurance money from Dad’s death. I want you to have it.”

“Don’t feel right about it. I owe you a couple hundred as it is.”

“But if you use it, something good will come out of it and you don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head. “Can’t. You might really need it someday.”

I took a few more bites. “Dude, I think I have a brain tumor.”

He laughed, looked at me, and then laughed again. “I’ve thought that for years.”

“I’m serious. I’ve been seeing things, like that fog I told you about, and bright lights like when Nick wiped out, and since the concussion it’s gotten worse. My eyes aren’t working right.”

“Yeah, well, your ears don’t work right either.”

I groaned.

“Edwards, don’t take this the wrong way but whenever you come across something you can’t figure out with scientific reasoning, you get like this. I mean, take the fog. Is it possible that fog just happens sometimes? Was it possible that someone, God help them, dumped something noxious into the water and what you saw was fumes from the chemicals? And when Nick wiped out, it was just the sun.”

I thought about it. When I’d seen the mist at The Bakery it had been dark. Maybe the unit had been overheating. Maybe if the coils hadn’t gotten enough airflow, it had iced up and was defrosting, the condensation seeming sparkly because of the fluorescents. But that didn’t explain the lights I’d seen on the beach that morning with Jericho or the light in his eyes.
Yep, brain tumor.

I was off for the weekend and went to Austin. I spent the night with Mom, tickling her pink and silly. She made me play duets with her on the piano and I acted like I didn’t enjoy it, but I did.

At two in the morning, there was a noise outside that I couldn’t place.
I’m okay.
My ceiling at home looked the same—bumpy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

He opened his bedroom door and slowly stepped into the living room, his hand on the jamb. “I feel like crap.”

“We found you on the driveway. You’ve been down for two days. Donovan said you took a fair amount of dark energy.” She got up, filled a glass one-third full with water, and gave it to him. “Kris stopped by. I told her you were in Maine.”

“Maine?”

“I panicked. What happened?”

“I got signaled, arrived, saw the rats, got ambushed by a dark, and fought like hell. I’m okay now, just dizzy.” He eased himself onto the sofa and barely tipped the glass to his lips. “You understand what this means?”

“They’re using rats as bait to get us … my gods.” She sat on the coffee table. “I hate to ask this now, but was one of the rats a prostitute?”

He held his stomach. “How’d you know?”

“I met with Phoebe the other day, remember her?”

“Yeah, she uh, heads up the women’s shelter or …” He took two long swallows.

“Don’t drink so fast. She told me two working girls have gone missing in the last two months. She thinks it’s a serial killer.”

“The darks
are
serial killers.”

“When you feel better would you help me out and whisper to a few of them? I know it makes you uncomfortable, that it makes you feel—”

“Like a perv?”

“They’re just such easy pickings. I want to get as many off the street and back on their feet as fast as I can. Are you—” She ran across the room, grabbed a trash can, and put it between his legs just as the water came back up.

_______

I
t was a pretty morning. Not too hot and the sandpipers were animated, hopping and fluttering across the shore on long, skinny legs. Sylvia was asleep a few chairs away. Her build had been slender to begin with but she had become too thin, her skin ashen from too much nightlife. Before she’d passed out she’d told me that Joel was taking her to paradise, that she needed a tan to be more attractive.

Derek strode up by the shallows, sat to my right, and looked at my book. “Holy crap, you’re reading about small business.” The smile on his face was classic. “I knew you’d come around.”

“How in the world do you enjoy this? It’s dry, like Sahara-death dry.”

“What are you doin’ with it then?”

“Trying to find a solution to Deborah’s predicament. The Bakery’s been in the red for a while and she’s got way bigger problems than getting new display cases. It seems it all comes down to collateral—”

He took my book and threw it down the beach. “If you’re talking about your insurance money—”

I gasped. “That’s a library book! Go get it!”

“You can’t put up that money!”

“I wasn’t even thinking that!”

He took my hand. “Look, I know something’s been wrong, more than wrong.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“I’m fine, everything’s fine, I’m okay. That’s what you say when—”

“They’re just words. How are you? I’m fine. How’s it goin’? Everything’s good. Words.”

“Did you think Sarah wouldn’t mention that you’ve cleaned every square inch of the condo the last few weeks, did Nick’s laundry and washed your car and hers almost daily? You’re acting exactly the same as when your dad … you’re acting like every day is business as usual but working your ass off day and night to cope—”

“Don’t.” My face turned to stone.

“Edwards—”

“I don’t wanna talk about him.”

“And you don’t wanna talk about this either. Why do you want to help Deborah? She’s a big girl.”

“I need her to reopen.”

“Why? It’s a peon job for Christ’s sake.”

“You would say that.” I yanked my hand from his. “No big checks or influence involved in being a stupid bakery clerk. This is how we’re different. You see food as something to eat. I see food as something to be invented, reinvented. The Bakery has been a whole new culinary experien—”

“Spare me.”

“Screw you.”

He rubbed his eye and spoke softly. “Why in God’s name would you want to go back there after what happened?”

“What does it say about me if I don’t go back? It says I’m bowing to fear and I won’t let anyone have that kind of power over me. I refuse to live my life down on my knees.”

“You got beat up. How is that—?”

“I’ve taken worse.” I turned my head to the side, my body followed, and I went to the water where all I could hear was its symphony.