Spring Tide (18 page)

At ten in the evening, I shut down my computer, put my feet up on the desk in my room, and let my head fall back.

Jericho walked in and tossed his keys on the dresser. “How’s the cat?”

“Been quiet for hours.”

Before I could say anything else, he picked me up and put us both down on my polka dot quilt.

“I’m sorry I went freak spaz on you this morning.” He tucked my hair behind my ear.

“What do you know about Sylvia?”

“I think she’s with Joel, maybe went on a trip with him even though he’s a monster. Look, I got all mad at you because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and then was feeling a little bitter that you’d rather live in Nick’s hole of scum than at my place. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay.” I pecked his cheek. “I think you’re right. Sylvia had said something about how Joel was taking her to paradise.”

He coughed.

“You okay?” I patted his back.

“Swallowed the wrong way. Hey, I’m leaving for San Fran next Thursday. I’ve been wound tight for a while. I gotta decompress, can’t do it here, need bigger waves. Come out with me.”

“Can’t. My mom’s coming that Saturday.”

“Bummer. I wanna meet her. How long’s she staying?”

“A night. She wants to check out my housing arrangements, and massively reinforce that I will be going to Rice next fall even if she has to drag me by the hair.”

“Maybe I’m way off here, but you ever thought about cooking school?”

“Every damn day. It’s complicated. Right now, all I know is that she’s coming and I need to get my shit together for her visit and plan a proper menu.”

“Kris, you have your shit together more than most.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed but his kind words made me smile. He smiled back, his eyes shimmering pale blue. I’d seen that before—it happened whenever he was going to kiss me.

Things were different that time. The sensual perceptions that came whenever his body was on mine were as intense as before but felt much more natural. More than that, I was greatly in tune with the connection we shared, his feelings for me and my feelings for him. And I was a very active participant in the make-out session for a whole fifteen or twenty minutes before falling into the abyss. Before my eyes closed, I’d felt his hand run through my hair and heard his usual whisper, “Sleep well.”

The rest of the week flew by, Jericho with me whenever I wasn’t at work. He spent hours watching the water but he wasn’t checking the waves and he didn’t go surfing.

_______

Sarah was in her bedroom, bags and clothes everywhere.

“I know you’re not packing, right? Right?” I picked up one of her scarves. “You said you weren’t leaving until Friday, but that can’t be the case because you’d need full command of your wardrobe.”

“I’m leaving today. After Nick left for athletics this morning I started thinking about it, and you work all week. Derek’s gone too. I thought it might be just as well I go home before I leave for A&M.” Her chin wiggled and tears fell from her big brown eyes.

“Don’t cry.” My eyes were wet.

“Summer went so fast.” She handed me a tissue. “Too fast.”

Sniffling, I helped her fold her clothes, unable to crack the code for her system of organization, her suitcases arranged by shades of purple and their coordinates. We put all forty pairs of her shoes back in their original boxes and crammed everything into her car. I hugged her, suffocated by blond ringlets. We didn’t say we’d miss each other or that we’d call once or twice a week or every day, because we knew we would.

I watched her drive away while turning the sea glass pendant in my hand.
I’m okay.
This wasn’t any different than other times in my life, the beginning of a new segment, like not having Dad around or Mom working two jobs, like the switch from public school to private—a loss of the familiar. But Sarah and Derek had been with me for those changes before, and that day their absence was the change. I wondered if I was making a huge mistake by staying. How stupid was I to think that by coming to Corpus I’d magically have some life-changing discovery, that the change of pace would make it happen. Between the assault, Sylvia, the meganap—I hadn’t found anything. “Daughter of Time” started playing in my mind and I felt better.
I’ll find my way.

_______

I woke a little after six and went for a run. I needed meditation and struggling to breathe for miles on end somewhat cleared my head and heart from missing Derek and Sarah, even Boy Wonder. I pulled up the GPS app on my tunes.
No freakin’ way!
It showed that I’d run almost nine miles.
Can’t be right. Solar glitch or something.
I could practically hear Jericho saying “makes you wonder” and I shook my head in response.

I made breakfast enchiladas, loved every bite, and then went to Nick’s to inspect the destruction. Other than a few dirty socks and the state of the floor around the toilet, it wasn’t as offensive as I’d remembered. Per Mrs. Black’s suggestion I looked under his bed and found the mother lode. Anything the king of morons hadn’t wanted was jammed beneath the frame: jock strap, moldy sandwich, hedge trimmers, and 3D glasses on the outskirts. With the bedding in the washer, I took three trash bags to the curb.

“Hey.” Jericho parked his truck in the drive. “My flight’s in a couple hours. I was going to your place to say goodbye …”

“Not yet you’re not.” I dragged him from the car.

I enlisted him in disposing of a lizard carcass that was on the shower floor and a bigger one that was under the sink. Then we checked all the closets and cabinets for any other dead animals.

“I gotta go.” He held me from behind, his cheek against mine. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you Sunday. Shaka Khan or whatever you guys say.”

“Shaka what? Hey, if you need anything, Julia’s around.”

“I’m having dinner with her tonight. Go. Have fun. You need it. Bad.”

He kissed me and went on his way.

“Sourdough!” I clicked my tongue as I came through the deck door with a seafood lasagna that I was seventy-nine percent sure was going to be wholly divine.

I served her a plate, accepted a glass of wine that I wouldn’t be drinking, and sat on the floor next to her at the mahogany coffee table. My fork was halfway to my mouth when I froze, my eyes on a stack of magazines a foot in front of me. I glanced at her.

“He doesn’t like me to leave them out but he’s not here, so tough. I thought you might like to see them.” She motioned for me to take one.

He was on several covers, the photos of him so unbelievable that I instantly went stupid. One showed him in the hollow of a huge blue-green wave. In the next, he was suspended in the air above the water, white spray streaming from his board. On the third, he was dropping down the face of a wave at least twelve feet tall, his form in its looming shadow, one hand trailing its path. These waves were nothing like Laces.
Who is he?

“He competed?” I underlined a caption with my finger.

“You didn’t know? How could you not know?”

My blank expression betrayed my ignorance.

“Jason took to surfing when he was little, five or six. After his parents passed, it was the only thing he wanted to do. One competition led to another to another, locations all over the world. Then came the sponsors and within a year he was given a wildcard spot for events on the pro tour. He was the no-name kid who came out of nowhere and took over. No one as young as him has ever won three world titles in a row.”

World title?
“Why did he stop?”

“It was never about winning or money for him. He was just doing what he loved. And after three years, he wanted something more in his life.” She refilled my glass. “Speaking of winners, he said you’re becoming quite the little gadget, or whatever the term is.”

“He lies, Julia. Lies. I’ve mostly been up on waves in the baby pool, you know, the super tiny break a half click from the pier. I’ve taken a board to the face three times and I’ve only seen a couple other girls surfing. It’s mostly guys out there laughing at me.”

“Jason’s not.”

I flipped to an article about him. In the lower right-hand corner was a photo of him and a statuesque blonde, who had the measurements of a Barbie doll and had become a supermodel.
Are you kidding me? Rachel Freakin’ Winslow?
She had her armed curled around his bicep, her lips on his cheek. He looked nearly the same, his hair a little longer. My reflection on the back windows flashed “average” in neon and I imagined devil horns and a handlebar mustache on her striking face.

I put my pinky under her picture. “Girlfriend or random hook-up?”
Please say random hook-up.

“She was his girlfriend when he was eighteen.”

Damn it!
“He’s had a lot of girlfriends, huh? I know I should ask him but I’d rather ask you.”

“Just Rachel actually.” She rubbed her tummy. “This lasagna is sinful.”

“It’s not. It’s low fat. Just her, though? What about the photo in his room of the brunette with the huge boobs?”

She thought for a moment. “That’s Astra. She was a surfing buddy. Kooky little thing, did star charts and horoscopes. I didn’t like her.”

Rachel Winslow, unbelievable.
“I really wish I hadn’t seen this.” I tossed the magazine back onto the table. “I don’t quite measure up.”

She lightly jabbed my hand with her fork. “You’re just as pretty, if not more so. Besides, he didn’t go with Rachel for more than a couple of months or so.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Jason has a profound ability to see what’s on the inside. Rachel was smart, but very controlling. In a lot of ways it was doomed from the start. But you’ve got a good soul and I’m not one bit surprised by how quickly he fell in love with you.”

“He’s not in love with me.”

“He’s never been as happy as the day he found you. And he’s been surfing less, a lot less, and that speaks volumes.”

I tasted the lasagna. It was good but needed something.

There was a knock at the back door. Cosmic Jeff stood outside, daffy grin intact and a copy of the
Kama Sutra
in his hand. The evening could only get more interesting.

I spent the next morning continuing the sterilization of the Black’s cottage, finding nubs of beef jerky in the sofa cushions. As I was stepping outside to escape the disinfectant fumes, Jericho called to say that he missed me and the waves were firing like Civil War cannons. I saved my commentary on his ex-girlfriend and his surfing career for in-person but gave him the short version of my insights into Jeff’s sex life.

CHAPTER TWELVE

She stepped onto the patio and took a deep breath. “Wow, Civil War cannons, huh? … Oh, I have been fully briefed by Jeff on the
Kama Sutra
and the spirituality it could add to our quote unquote love life, so watch out, baby … I am funny … I won’t get naked with Jeff but he is a whole lotta man … Miss you too.” She hung up.

“Hello, Kris.”

“Geez!” Her hand flew to her heart. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you saw me coming.”

“What’s new?”

He put a half-eaten pastry on the table and stepped close to her, his voice alluring. “Kris, I need to talk to you. Sit down, Kris.”

Her eyes glazed over and she took a chair, the wind blowing her hair straight back.

“Very good. I’ve been watching over you. Can you remember that I am your angel, Kris?”

“Yes.”

“Jericho is dangerous. He will ruin your life and I can’t let that happen. Can you remember that Jericho will hurt you, Kris?”

“Yes.”

“Has he whispered to you? Does his touch affect you, numb your will? Do you feel spellbound? That’s because he’s slowly creeping into your soul and subconscious so he can enslave you to him. He’s not like you and I. He’s damned and he’ll do the same to you if you stay with him.”

Eyes of glass blinked several times.

“He’s done this before, ruined another girl. Like her, you’re blinded by his looks, by his energy.” He put his face an inch from hers. “You must stay away from him.”

He ran one finger down her cheek and she quietly moaned, her body trembling.

“I was never here speaking to you. You will remember only what I’ve told you to remember. Tell me what you need to remember, Kris.”

“You are my angel. Jericho will hurt me. I have to stay away from him.”

“How do you know these things, Kris?”