The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3 (16 page)

“Your dad must be good at his job to be able to afford this,” I commented.

“He owns his own company, he’s a troubleshooter. He goes in and helps companies that are having problems get back on their feet. He’s earned quite a reputation and is in high demand. The only problem is that he’s always out of town, working. I used to get upset about it, but then it just became normal.”

Mark took my hand as we walked down the wooden steps that led to the beach.

“What a crazy day,” I said as we removed our shoes.

“You’re right about that. How are your emotions handling all of this?”

I was touched by his concern. “Their okay, I had a few iffy moments when Shawn was talking about all the UFO stuff, but I was able to pull myself together.”

“Let me know if they become a problem, I want to help if I can.”

I gnawed on my thumbnail as we walked toward the water edge. It would be tough to confide in him on that. I had spent my life trying to hide that aspect about myself.

The cool water lapped at our feet as we watched the sun begin to set on the horizon.

Mark cupped my shoulders as I slowly turned my face toward him. “There’s something I have wanted to do all week, but I wanted to wait for the perfect moment,” he said in a low voice as he stared into my eyes.

My heart began to beat heavily, and I lost myself in his warm brown eyes as his face began the decent toward mine. At the last possible moment, my eyes fluttered close. I was caught off guard at the rightness of it all. It was like walking in a meadow filled with flowers or sitting in front of a fireplace on a cold winter day. The warmth of the kiss took my breath away. I felt like I had finally come home. Mark tightened his arms around me, drawing me even closer.

The feelings that welled up in me were so tender, I felt like I could weep.

I was reminded of a conversation I had with my mom when I was thirteen. I had been observing the ease that my parents had around each other for weeks. They always seemed to know what the other needed. Often, I would observe them acting like they had just fallen in love. I asked my mom why that was. She told me that the love she felt for my dad at that moment was different than the love she had felt for him in the beginning. It was stronger and much more intense. “He’s not only the man I love, but also my best friend. I love your dad more today than I ever have. Our love has evolved into something else because of the way we respect and listen to each other’s needs,” she had said.

That was how I felt in Mark’s arms. This kiss may be our first, but it felt like I had kissed him a thousand times before.

I now knew my place in the world. It was by his side. We may have just met, but we had known each other our entire lives.

When we drew apart he said, “Wow.”

I knew exactly what he was talking about; it had been a “Wow” kind of kiss.

“Let’s try that one more time,” he said, pulling me close again.

This time, I had my eyes closed before our lips met. The air around us seemed to sing. I lost myself in the kiss. My heart was racing and my skin tingled on every surface of my body.

“That was amazing,” Mark said when our lips parted.

I would have spoken, but my head was still spinning.

“We better join the others,” he said, grabbing my hand as we walked back toward the staircase.

I put my shoes back on, feeling dizzy in a drunken haze. If I knew kissing him was going to be that mind blowing, I would have forced myself on him the first day. He was right to wait though; the moment couldn’t have been more perfect. I knew I would never forget our first kiss, the way his lips had felt, the way my heart had raced, and the way the cool ocean water lapped at our feet.

We stopped on the top step when we saw Shawn and Sam sharing the same kind of intense kiss that we ourselves had just experienced.

“Should I get the hose?” Mark asked with a laugh.

They sprang apart, both looking dazed as Mark and I laughed.

Walking into the living room, we all settled on the oversized pillows that were littered around on the plush cream colored carpet.

Mark used a remote to turn the Bose stereo on, and soon music was playing from the many speakers around the room.

He turned on his laptop and booted up the internet.

We started our search by simply Googling, ‘Santa Cruz.’ The sites that popped up were typical. Town history, chamber of commerce, and other sites that would help you find more information on the inner workings of a city.

Mark clicked out of that page, and changed the search.

“Strange occurrences in Santa Cruz,” I read over his shoulder.

Mark shrugged his shoulders. “I figure we have to start somewhere.”

From this inquiry, all kinds of weird sites popped up, as the internet tried to match up the request.

Mark used the mouse to scroll down the page as we all looked for something to jump out at us.

Some of the things that popped up boarded on downright kooky. The beach was popular with leftover die hard hippies and their laid back attitudes and open use of drugs, which had caused some problems in the early eighties. Besides that, the most frequent item that popped up were the countless shark attacks over the years.

After a while, I stood up to ease my sore backside from sitting on the floor so long. Walking around the living room, I studied the formal shots of Mark as he progressed through childhood. Even as an adolescent, he had been handsome. I stopped in front of his high school graduation picture and smiled at his boyish grin as he held up his diploma.

“He looks so young in that picture,” Sam commented as she picked up the picture.

“He was, barely fifteen. I couldn’t have imagined facing college that young. I’m intimidated thinking about it next year and I’m three years older than he was.”

“I’m starved,” Shawn said behind me breaking into our conversation.

“Me too, there’s a great Mexican restaurant up the road I always go to. You guys want to give it a try?”

“I’m in,” Sam said, setting the picture back down.

Mark looked at me. “So am I, I love Mexican food.”

Mark took us to a small family owned Mexican restaurant that was about a mile up the road from his house.

The parking lot was full and Mark circled the building before he pulled into a tight space between two oversized SUV’s.

When we walked through the doors, I felt like we had crossed the border into Mexico. The walls were covered in authentic woven blankets and the brightly colored Piñatas that ran along the rafters gave the restaurant just the right amount of festiveness. A live mariachi band walked around the room encouraging everyone in the restaurant to join in the singing, it was a great atmosphere.

Sam was practically humming as she surveyed the great deco, excitedly pointing out one unique piñata after the next. Shawn looked down at her obviously enthralled by her exuberant attitude.

“Hey Mark,” the man behind the counter greeted us. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll get a table cleared off for you.”

“That’s fine, Miguel. Thanks.”

“I love this place,” Sam said as Shawn slung his arm around her shoulders. She pointed to another piñata that was fashioned like a giant maraca. “I love that one.”

Five minutes later, the hostess guided us to our table.

“Nice to see you again Mark,” said the pretty waitress as she passed our table.

“I eat here a lot,” Mark explained as I raised my eyebrows at him.

The same pretty waitress came back to our table and set an overflowing basket of warm tortilla chips and salsa on the table. “What can I get you guys to drink?” she asked with eyes on Mark alone as she popped her gum in the process.

“Cokes for everyone?”
Mark said, looking at all of us for confirmation.

“Sure honey,” she said in a nauseating sweet voice.

Sam stifled a laugh, looking at me as the waitress sashayed away.

Shawn burst out laughing at Sam’s attempt to mimic her by fluttering her eyes at Mark.

To reassure me, Mark slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

“Do you really think I have ever looked at another girl?” He whispered into my ear.

I shook my head, nervously working on the already low thumbnail on my right hand. I had never looked at another guy, and I knew he was the same, but knowing that didn’t help the small flash of jealousy that shot through me when she smiled at him like he was some kind of delectable dessert or something.

Mark gently pulled my hand away from my nervous gnawing.

“It’s always been you, nobody else,” he continued.

“I know
,
I just don’t like other girls to look at you. I know that seems possessive, but I can’t help it,” I tried to explain.

“Believe me I know. I’ve experienced it all week when I’ve watched the guys at school check you out when you walk by,” he said as I shook my head in denial.

With all the California blonde bombshells walking through the halls of school, I was pretty sure the male population of the school was too busy checking them out. The girls
at school weren’t afraid to show off their long tan legs, and expose enough cleavage to keep the guy’s eyes glued on them.

“They watch you because not only are you pretty, but you also walk around all aloof, so you pose a challenge for all the young studs of the school. They can get the other girls any old time, but you have enough of a mysterious air about you to snag all of their attention. That’s the only reason Matt’s giving us a hard time right now, he doesn’t like the fact that you snubbed him.”

I didn’t agree with him. I personally felt that Matt was harassing us because that’s what Matt did. He liked to torment those around him. Mark thought I was pretty because I had been in his dreams all these years. If not for that, he would see just how ordinary I was. Not that I ever wanted him to think of me like that, it was flattering for him to call me beautiful.

The waitress came back to our table to take our dinner orders. While we were waiting for our food, we discussed the issue that was the most pressing.

The idea that there could be four more people out there that may also share our connection was a twist none of us had ever considered.

We stopped talking when our food arrived. Mark was right, the food was excellent. I was famished, lunch had been hours ago. As we ate, our conversation became more light hearted as Shawn kept us laughing with stories about things that go on at the Boardwalk. He was a great story teller and we soon had a good grasp on the kind of people he worked with.

“They are definitely different than us,” he said with a smile.

After dinner, we headed back to Mark’s house to resume our conversation. I settled myself on one the comfy couches, tucking my legs up under me. Mark sat down next to me which of course sent my heart off its normal rhythm. Sam and Shawn took the other couch and Shawn tucked Sam up against his side.

“Well, I’m not sure what the picture means,” I said, opening up the conversation. “But, I don’t know if I buy all of your theories. They all just seem too kooky for me, this is real life not some fantasy book,” I said, looking at Shawn.

“How do you know? Maybe this connection is from some kind of radioactivity coming from another planet,” Shawn said as we all burst out laughing. “Hey, I’ve read lots of sci-fi and that’s always what it boils down to. Some alien life form or something like that,” he tried to explain as we continued to laugh.

“I’m not sure that’s the reason for the connection, but Shawn is right, even the ridiculous things need to be examined. People just don’t walk around feeling some odd connection with others, and they don’t have dreams every night about the same person. We need to explore everything, look into things that could have created this link between all of us. We also need to consider the fact that there are four others out there that could potentially be just like us,” Mark said, sobering up the lighthearted atmosphere.

He was right, as much as we would like to be normal teenagers, the plain and simple fact was
,
there was nothing normal about us. We had never been normal though we may have tried to pretend to be, but there was no denying our abnormalities.

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Sam finally said.

“What?”

“Well, if there are only four couples in this picture, but eight children all together in the picture, it stands to reason that some of us must be related.”

Mark and Shawn looked up from the computer at Sam’s words. Neither seemed shocked at the suggestion, but I was reeling from the idea.

“You mean you think Mark and I are related?” I said, horror ringing through my words.

Mark took my hand trying to calm me. “Not us,” he said with a slight smile in his voice. “Shawn and I think that maybe you and he are brother and sister.”

“That would explain why you look so much like Shawn,” Mark told me.

Brother and sister? Shawn and I were siblings? All my life, I had often wondered if I had any other family members, and here I was possibly sitting with my brother. I glanced at Mark, he didn’t look surprised, and neither did Shawn.