CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (6 page)

Leesie327 says:
dont tell them…i trusted you…please…i’ll die if my mom ever finds out i was screaming at her boy when i lost control of the truck

Kimbo69 says:
She’ll understand. They love you. You call them. Tell them everything. Michael will take you home. He told me so.

Leesie327 says:
no…im fine…tell them that…nothing else or i’ll hate you forever

Kimbo69 says:
Okay.

Leesie327 says:
crap

Kimbo69 says:
Is he back? You better delete this chat.

Leesie327 says:
jarons online got to get off

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 04/28 10:27 PM

jRun says:
Leesie? You’re online? What happened to you?

You’re parents are going crazy. They called me. Your dad’s voice. I’ve never heard so much pain.

Leesie327 says:
please tell him im sorry

jRun says:
I blame myself for trusting that creep, Michael. He came off so sincere. And you wanted him not me. That much was clear. I couldn’t stand to see you with him like that, so I walked.

Leesie327 says:
not your fault

jRun says:
But he stole you. Where are you? I’ll come get you. I’ll call your Dad. We’ll both come. The whole branch will come. Anything to get you home. I love you. You got to believe that. I’m kicking myself for leaving you alone with him. Whatever’s happened with him—I don’t care. Let me make it up to you, Leesie. Please. Where are you?

Leesie327 says:
my idea to run

jRun says:
You must have felt so desperate. I didn’t realize. I should have stayed.

Leesie327 says:
forget me

jRun says:
No way. You’ll get through the grief. I saw it on my mission. I can help you.

Leesie327 says:
im a murderer

jRun says:
No. You’re not. Talk to my dad. He’ll help. That’s not what those scriptures mean.

Leesie327 says:
im dead

jRun says:
That’s stupid. Think about what you’re doing. Who you’re hurting.

Leesie327 says:
you?

jRun says:
Your mom and dad, Stephie—all of us back at the branch. And, yes, me.

Leesie327 says:
sorry

jRun says:
I still love you. Doesn’t that matter?

Leesie327 says:
it did in high school but you ignored me

jRun says:
Ancient history—don’t throw that in my face at a time like this.

Leesie327 says:
when would be a better time

jRun says:
I didn’t know you were like this.

Leesie327 says:
honest

jRun says:
Heartless.

Leesie327 says:
taken

jRun says:
Tell Michael to remember what I said in the hospital. I meant it. Every word.

Leesie327 says:
my idea…not his…leave him alone…leave me alone

jRun says:
Don’t say that. A week ago you kissed me and said you loved me.

Leesie327 says:
no, i didnt…i couldnt say it…remember? i love him…thats never going to change

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 78, HOME?

Run home,
run home,
run home.

Heartless.
Heartless.
Heartless.

Run home,
run home,
run home.

Heartless.
Heartless.
Heartless.

Michael discovers me,
laptop slammed closed
on my stretched out thighs,
propped straight up in my
bed that sits for me,
beating my broken hand
against my glossy head.

“Whoa, babe. Stop.”
His hand closes around mine.
“Kim’s an idiot. It won’t be that
bad. I promise.”
I slit open one eye
like a cornered creature,
realize he’s talking about
our first time. My face
squinches up. “Do you think
I’m heartless?” emerges beyond
my control.

He doesn’t answer right away,
doesn’t pat my head and kiss it better.
“Michael?”
He won’t meet my eyes. “Please,
let me call your dad. That’s what
I feel worst about.”
My eyes drop, too. “Phil’s funeral
is tomorrow.”
“Can I call in the morning?”
Our hands meet in the covers.
“Kim’s going to call and—”
“Then I should, too. Please.”
He kisses my head, and I melt.
“Okay.”
His next kiss finds my mouth,
speaks relief. “You’re not heartless.”
His lips press against my beating,
bandaged sternum.

I should warn him about Jaron
who is probably calling right now,
screaming into the phone,
cursing me—cursing Michael.
Maybe Kim called first.
“What time is it there?”
He glances at the silver globe
iPod dock alarm clock by my bed.
“About 8:15.”
“Call him tonight then. Back
at your hotel.”
He nods, frowns. “You’re
okay? I can leave?”
I force a smile and hold up
my white nurse buzzer.
“Yup. I’ve got nurses.”

I hold his lips too long
when he puts them on mine
to say good-night. “I’ll
stay ’til you sleep.”
I kiss him once more, push
him away. “No. Call him.”

Chapter 6

UNSAID

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME #10

Dive Buddy:
Leesie
Date:
04/29
Dive #:
not in the water
Location:
Grand Cayman
Dive Site:
Rehab Center
Weather Condition:
mild
Water Condition:
dry
Depth:
wading today
Visibility:
better
Water Temp:
thermocline—cool to hot
Bottom Time:
24 hours
Comments:

It’s past midnight when I get back to the hotel. New day. Yesterday seemed like a lifetime. Leesie’s home phone is busy when I try to call. If her dad has a cell, I don’t know the number. Leesie never had one back home. Too broke. Crap reception in a wheat field.

I try again in ten minutes. Busy. Fall asleep before the next ten minutes are up.

I wake up a couple hours later. Don’t know where I am. Freak. Figure it out. Pick up the phone. Try again. It’s still not too late back there. Eleven. Big deal. He’ll be up.

“Hello?” It’s him.

I should have planned this better, written it out or something. I’m at a total loss what to say. “Please, sir. Don’t hang up.”

“No. No. Of course not.” His warm voice sounds like rescue. “Don’t be afraid, Michael. Just bring her home. That’s all we care about. She’s hurt.”

I want to tell him we’re getting on a plane tomorrow. “She’s getting the best care on earth.” Plus Cayman sunshine. Nothing can beat that.

“Where are you?”

“She won’t let me tell anyone yet.”

“That’s okay.” His voice breaks. It takes him a moment to regain control. “Bring her back to us. We don’t blame you.”

“I beg her to let me every day.” Now emotion gets to me. I swallow hard and whisper, “She won’t listen. She’s—ashamed.”

He breathes a moment and whispers back, “Tell her we love her. Is she close? Can I talk to her?”

“No.” I should have called from her room, put her on. She knew she’d have to talk to him. That’s why she made me call from here. “She thinks you’ll be angry with her.”

“Never.” His voice is stronger, solid again.

I stand and walk to my window. “I know.” The parking lot is dark except for one light. “I’ll tell her, though.”

“Has she”—he pauses so long I think he’s gone, but finally gets the words out—“said anything more about the accident?”

I wish I could give him something, but I’ve got nothing. “No. Just that it’s all her fault.” I hesitate, hating the words that rise to my lips. “She thinks her mom hates her. And your God, too.”

“Tell her that’s a wicked lie.” Wicked? Yeah. Evil and wicked. He says in a voice that sounds like a prophet. “No matter what. We love her.”

“And, sir. I want you to know.” I swallow, switch the phone to my other ear. “I’m keeping that promise I made at Thanksgiving.” My hand grows slick with sweat. The phone slips. “I won’t touch her—not until we’re married.”

“You’re getting married?” Does that scare him worse than anything else? “When?”

End of summer? Tomorrow? What do I tell him? “Someday.”

“Bring her home first.”

“If I can, I will.”

“Take care of her, son.” His voice fills with infinite sadness. “We miss our girl.”

Him calling me “son” chokes me up like it always did. “She’s sorry. Tell her mom, too. She’s sorry.”

I sleep past nine in the morning. Feel half-way human again. Talking to Leesie’s dad grounded me. We’re going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay. I got to tell Leesie—get her grounded, too. I book it down to the rehab place, but when I get there, Leesie’s room is full of nurses and a tall, black man wearing a white doctor’s coat.

“What were you thinking,” he speaks with a Caymanian accent, “traveling all this way injured as you are?” His island voice fills the room like a preacher’s.

Leesie holds up her ring with purple swollen fingers. “We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon. I crashed two days before our wedding. The hospital said I was good to travel.” Leesie lying? Weird.

“Well, they were crazy to let you leave.” He flips through the release papers I turned over yesterday when I checked Leesie in here. “How long is this honeymoon supposed to last? You’ll get no beach time for weeks.”

“All summer.” I walk in and shake the guy’s hand. “I’m a dive instructor. Looking for work.”

“Have you got Cayman papers?”

“Working on it.”

He knows I’m lying. “Have you been here before?”

I nod. “It’s my favorite place in the world to dive.” At least Little Cayman is. Got to get Leesie over there.

The doctor turns back to Leesie. “Let’s see what we have here.” He casually pushes the button on her morphine pump before he starts with her head, examines her cut. “Nicely done.” He glances back at the clipboard. “Concussion?” He flashes a penlight in Leesie’s eyes. “Good dilation. Does your head pound?”

“Not right now.”

“When you’re not on morphine?”

“Yeah.”

He raps under her knee with the side of his hand. It jumps like it’s supposed to. “Good. The headaches should subside in a few more days. No permanent nerve damage.”

“That’s good?” Leesie looks over at me and smiles slightly.

“Yes.” He snips off the bandages to examine her nose. Black, blue, purple, green. The colors twist together and scream pain. He touches her nose. “The packs your surgeon placed in the nostrils are well-positioned.” He runs his finger over the bump high up on her nose. “You’ll end up with a bit of a bump here. But we’ll keep the nose straight. You can opt for cosmetic surgery once all this is healed up.”

“I can have any nose I want?”

No way. She’s going to stick with the nose I fell in love with. He keeps touching it, and Leesie gets paler and paler. The garish colors seems to ooze and twist, moving, crawling, spreading all over her face. The room grows hotter. My heads turns fuzzy, and I can’t breathe. I think I sway.

The nurse Leesie named, Sugar, takes my elbow. “Let’s get us some fresh air why don’t we.”

I jerk my elbow away. “No, I’m fine.” I sway again.

“Do you want to faint in front of her?” She grabs my arm, guides me out Leesie’s sliding door, and deposits me on a bench in the garden. “A few deep breaths, sugar, and you’ll feel better.” She disappears.

I cycle through my free dive breathing, inhale the flowers around me. Smile when I detect my mom’s favorite scent. Gardenias. I’m glad she’s close. I could use her help about now. I wander around, find the bush and break off branch after branch of dark green leaves and small white fragrant flowers.

When I make it back to Leesie’s room, she’s got a new pink bandage on her nose, and the medical team is gone.

“You are a wimp.”

I inhale gardenias for strength. “If you saw your nose, you’d faint, too.”

“Pretty gory?”

“The goriest.” I stick my bouquet in her half-empty water cup.

She motions towards her hospital gowned torso. “Do you want to see my ribs? He left them undone.”

“Are they gory, too?”

She nods. “The bruising is ugly, but the doctor is most worried I’ll get pneumonia.” She’s supposed to breath deep so the air sacks in her lungs don’t stick together. “I told them I learned everything I know about heavy breathing from you.”