Updrift (36 page)

“The Viceroy has formed a temporary government,” Xanthe replied. “He’s charged with keeping the status quo until more is decided. And, since you brought it up, we’re forming a council to formulate a plan for government structure moving forward. I’m on it, and I was hoping we could talk you into serving as well, Michael.” She addressed Carmen. “You have enough responsibility as it is, but you’d be welcome too, Carmen.”

Carmen extended her palm. “Thank you for the invitation but I’d prefer to sit this one out, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Xanthe confirmed.

“I’d be honored,” Michael told her.

* * * *

On the back porch overlooking the ocean, Kate joined Gabe as he chatted with Luke and Solange. Alicia, Jeremy, Cara, and John rode herd on all the unruly toddlers. “I hope nobody makes a break for the water,” Kate commented. “Do your parents know anything yet?”

“No. But only because we live so far away and they don’t see us often,” she replied. “They’re no fools, though. They have to wonder why we never take the kids swimming.” She grinned. ”You can’t reason with a two-year-old siren who wants to be a fish. And one who actually
can
become a fish.”

“How do you manage?” Kate wondered, marveling at the amount of running around she saw their parents doing. She sensed, with dim prescience, the toll such constant vigilance would start to take.

“You’ll find out,” Solange smirked. “I won’t go into it, since there’s nothing you can do at this point.” Her expression softened. “But you shouldn’t worry. It really is the best thing ever.”

Luke weighed in too. “Everything everyone says about it—you give up your life, the sleep deprivation part, it takes everything you have to make it—it’s all true. But you wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He and Solange shared a knowing smile.

Gabe snaked his arms around Kate’s waist and settled his chin on her shoulder. “You’re not worrying, are you?”

“Maybe a little. We’re going to have a lot to do in a few months, with a new baby, and school for you, and whatever’s going to happen with my job. I hope we do everything right, and I hope we can keep up.”

Gabe kissed her temple. “We’ll figure it all out, you know,” he whispered in her ear.

His optimism was so beautiful. She twisted around to see his face. A broad smile came unbidden to her lips, and she contemplated again the bright future ahead. “Yes, we will,” she agreed.

Some parts Kate really didn’t remember. She recalled her mother yelling for her and the sound of the boat’s motor starting, and someone calling on the radio for help. Despite the terror in her mother’s voice and the frantic maneuvering of everyone on board, she was unconcerned. She ignored all the requests to grab her life vest, to stay put.

She did not see a dolphin in the water with her, either. When she fell overboard, she saw a little boy, wild and glistening and about the same age as her, pleading with her to please play with him. He told her his name was Gabe. His smile was infectious and easy, and she said, “Yes-let’s-play-dolphin-and-I-can’t-swim-without-my-vest-we-must-hurry-my-mother-will-come-for-me-I’m-Kate,” all in one laughing breath. Her life vest floated away.
It’s too slow
, Gabe told her.

Tell them you’ll be okay and we’ll swim to shore
, Gabe said, and she called this out to her mother. Then they were gone.

Her mother remembered following her to shore, seeing her wave at her from the beach a few minutes after she disappeared with the dolphin. She found her on the beach with Gabe’s family and took her home.

Kate remembered more.

She and Gabe swam for hours, although she had never learned to swim. They talked incessantly but without sound, and differently than they did out of the water. They would both be six in a couple of weeks. They had no sisters or brothers, although Gabe had a lot of cousins. They were going to the same school in the fall. She had just moved from Kansas. He had lived here all his life.

Contained as she was in the sea’s embrace, she did not focus as she might have on the heavy pressure of the water; instead, she felt as if she were flying, and, contrarily, as if a light, fresh burst of air was circulating around her. For the first time in a long time, she felt anticipation for the life she and her mother were starting and this swim signaled a wonderful beginning. Back in Kansas, they had lived a life of emotional subsistence defined by duty and grief, unconsciously becoming as dry and shriveled as a windswept plain in August. As she knew nothing different, she didn’t judge their diminished existence; but now she felt, by contrast, how beautifully hope colored and brightened the world, how it wakened her dulled senses, and inspired her to expand her old habits of thinking and feeling. From that point on, she yearned toward something more.

She and Gabe regretted leaving the sea, unwilling to participate in the sunny universe outside that promised separation. As they built their sandcastle, they continued the conversation they’d held underwater, refusing to share themselves with those around them. When her mother led her away, Kate waved at Gabe over her shoulder, sad she would not be in his company, but not truly concerned over her departure. She was sure she would be with him again.

What she saw that afternoon amazed her—the vibrant colors, the fantastic corals and fish; but what she left the water with were not just memories of pretty images. She’d gained instead a new understanding of the world on land, her world. Sometime during their swim, she let go, without knowing she was doing so, of an unconscious belief concerning love and loss, about how these attributes had characterized her days and how they would impact her reality moving forward. In the space of those brief hours, she came to reject that grief and loneliness were the very definition of life—hers, her mother’s, and presumably everyone else’s. By the time Gabe’s mother lifted him out of the water and Anna led her by the hand, she’d reached outside herself for something new and unknown.

In the confusion of growing up, she rarely understood how her decisions would play out even minutes after she’d made them, much less any long-term implications; and, especially since she was a mother now, she knew how hard her own mother worked to help and guide her. She’d come to understand no one, not even the most loving, dedicated parents, can steer a child clear of emotional hardship—it simply comes—but she saw how the personal attention of her mom and the periodic intervention of well-meaning adults did, collectively, get her to some sort of platform, a stable base from which she could create independence and happiness. The better part of this effort, the part she really learned during that long-ago swim with Gabe, was that many of life’s rich gifts come unbidden, not from what a person can manufacture and bring forth. All she had to do to receive these gifts was say yes; yes to a swim in the water, yes to the unsupported idea there was something better out there, happiness to be had she couldn’t see. And the amazing thing is, it was still out there, unknown and unpredictable, but on its way.

The End

Publisher’s Note

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Errin Stevens writes paranormal romance from her home in Minnesota, where she lives with her husband, son, and a multitude of large, friendly dust bunnies. When not wrestling with unruly narrative—or reading everything from mythology to modern literature to New Adult suspense—you’ll find her swooning over seed catalogs (winter), or digging in the garden (the other three days of the year). Visit her blog site at http://errinstevens.com for release updates and random essays on writing and mothering.