Waterborn (The Emerald Series Book 1) (17 page)

“Caris, look at me.” Noah’s voice penetrated the haze of fear. I sucked in air, trying my best not to cry. “Caris, you’re okay. Look at me.”

My eyes focused on his face. “I’m sorry. I panicked.”

“It’s all right. It happens.” He was being so sweet and patient and understanding. I stared at the pearl nestled at the base of his throat, using it as my focal point. My hands gripped the tops of his shoulders as the water lapped around our chests. I thought I could feel it, the pores of my skin giving in to the water, soaking it up. My skin wanted the fuel the water provided; it craved the oxygen.

“It’ll be better this time, now that I know what to expect.” When I lifted my hands from his shoulders, he let go. I sank like a penny dropped in a wishing well. And I wished. This time when Noah took my hand, I gripped his fingers hard, but other than that, I tried to keep perfectly still. I focused on the membranes behind my ears. My body thrummed in response to the water as though I could feel the oxygen filling my blood. My vision dimmed. My hand gripped his tighter.

Just when all was about to go completely dark, Noah pressed his mouth against mine. My mouth opened under the pressure of his lips as he pushed air into my lungs. It was just enough. When he pulled away our eyes locked. He stayed close. Letting go of my hand, he cupped my face with both hands. Each time I was about to lose consciousness, the feel of his mouth anchored me as he breathed for me again and again.

Endless minutes passed, and I thought maybe it wasn’t going to work when I felt the slightest tingle behind my ears. I could feel it now, the ease in my blood as oxygen flowed. The membranes of my gills fluttered, tickling the backs of my ears. I nodded, giving Noah a thumbs-up. He smiled at me. I welcomed the feel of his arms around my waist and held on as we surged to the surface.

I laughed, the relief making me giddy. Air flowed freely through my mouth and I felt the gills relax under the weight of my wet hair.

“Again.” Before Noah had a chance to respond, I placed my hands against his chest and pushed away, letting myself fall. He only had to breathe for me twice before I felt my gills engage. If my feet would move, I would have done a happy dance. I settled for a rock concert fist pump instead. I no longer had to be afraid. Part of my born-to-be self worked.

After another try, Noah didn’t have to breathe for me at all. My gills responded immediately and my lips felt the loss. But Noah was proud of me, I could see it in his eyes, and in the grin that wouldn’t leave his face. I savored the feel of his arms around me as he took us up for the last time.

I was exhausted by the time we got to the beach and collapsed under a clearing sky. We lay there until the sun dried our skin, neither saying a word. Finally, I turned my head to find Noah looking at me.

“I have gills,” I said stupidly. “And I can breathe water.”

Finally, something was right.

M
y cheeseburger sat
on my plate, a half-eaten sloppy mess smeared in mustard and ketchup and wilted lettuce. A fly crawled across the bun and I swatted it away. He could have it, for all I cared. It smelled funny, like my old Nikes I never wore socks with and tasted even worse. I dipped a French fry in my ketchup, eyeing the California roll clutched between Noah’s chopsticks.

“You want some?” He dangled the bite under my nose and I got a whiff of salty fish. “Go ahead. You’re gonna like it,” he assured me with an all too knowing smile.

I chewed slowly, waiting for my gag reflex to kick in, which it didn’t. I swallowed and opened my mouth again like a baby bird. After another bite, I sat back in my chair and mourned the loss of my favorite food.

“So does this complete my transformation to the dark side?” The fan beat overhead and I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. My fingertips grazed the sensitive skin, prompting a shiver at the memory of Noah’s warm breath.

“Not hardly,” he said. “But you did good today. At least now you won’t drown.”

“You have any idea why I’m still playing the role of the Titanic?”

He shrugged, drumming his chopsticks on the edge of the table. Rat-a-tat. The nonchalance was just a ruse. It bothered him, the not knowing. It bothered me too. What good was a waterbreather that couldn’t swim?

“No.” He leaned toward me, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.

A wave of hair fell over his shoulder as the weight of his eyes settled on my face. I could swim there, in the depths of his eyes, lured by the song in his voice, and I found it was a different kind of drowning I was in danger of now.

“Maybe like everything else it’ll come with time.”

My heart tripped over itself. I remembered the pressure of his mouth, the almost taste of his tongue. Solid muscle and smooth skin as he cradled me in the water. I reached for my glass to ease my dry throat and to hide the feelings that poured off me like a sheen of perspiration. I’d made one baby step and I was already capitulating on my resolve to be just friends. Noah didn’t feel like a complication. I kind of just wanted him for myself.

“Caris.” My name sounded like a reprimand coming off his lips. His eyes cut away from me and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “About today…”

I knew what he was about to say and I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear him say I was nothing to him but a depressed, broken soul. That he’s only here because I’d forced him to be with a stupid siren song that seemed pointless. I had equated it in the realm of our species to having an appendix or wisdom teeth. Some arbitrary trait that evolution deemed we no longer needed. Just like Ellie, once I could fend for myself, he’d let me go.

“How often do you cut your hair?” I blurted as a way to distract him from utterly breaking my heart. And I really wanted to hate him for having the power to do it. His eyes searched mine and turned all soft and sympathetic, making me feel like I had back in the seventh grade when I had a crush on my biology teacher, Mr. Whitten. He’d had long hair too.

“Once a week.” He relaxed against his chair. Rat-a-tat. The chopsticks flew with the flick of his wrists. The waiter came and took our plates. He refilled my tea and I heard myself offer a distant “thank you.”

“Do you keep it long to hide your… gills?” It sounded too surreal, talking of something so extraordinary over a table littered with discarded napkins smeared with ketchup and dribbles of soy sauce.

“I like it.” He took a long swig of water, then set his empty glass back on the table. “My brother kept his short. He had to cut it about every other day and it just seemed like too much trouble.” His eyes took on a guarded, far-away look. Cling-da-ping. He drummed on the rim of his glass.

Noah’s eyes shifted as something behind me grabbed his attention, and just like that, he was focused, and it was as though his eyes were cut from emeralds. The chopsticks clattered on the table. Voices exchanged words behind me, one I thought I recognized. I fought the urge to turn around to see what had caused the sudden change, the stiffening of his posture, his muscles coiled and tense.

“Excuse me.” The voices moved closer before a man stepped up to our table. He stood average in height, and ordinary in cargo shorts and a dark t-shirt.

“You must be Caris.” He extended his hand. His hair was flecked with gray and cropped short, military style, making his eyes the most prominent feature in his face. I wanted to say they were pretty, but that’s the kind of word used to describe a sunset or a painting.

Scary maybe. Definitely crazy.

“I’m Marshall Shaw.”

I stared blankly, trying to register the name. Before I could take his hand he added, “Erin’s father.”

“Oh.” I cut a quick glance at Noah. He was coiled so tight he could have been snake waiting to strike. And if looks could kill, Mr. Shaw would have been lying face down on the floor, possibly in tiny pieces. “Nice to meet you.” I considered grabbing the chopsticks and hiding them.

Noah’s chair scraped across the floor. He dug in his back pocket for his wallet, tossing a couple of twenties on the table. “Let’s go.”

“Noah, son…”

My hand slid through Mr. Shaw’s fingers, forgotten. He stepped forward, offering the same hand to Noah. Noah left him hanging, fists bunched at his sides. For a split second I thought he might take a swing at Mr. Shaw.

“Don’t call me son,” Noah bit out through clenched teeth, stepping so close to Mr. Shaw that their chests bumped. His eyes dropped to me; I was frozen to my chair. Somewhere I had failed to connect the dot that would complete this picture. “You ready?”

I thought for Mr. Shaw’s sake I better be. I didn’t understand the animosity radiating off of Noah. He looked like he was about to combust. He deliberately turned his back on Mr. Shaw and walked away, stiff with anger. He was out the door before I could even stand up.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw.” I stumbled in my haste to get around him. Strong fingers curled around my upper arm, preventing me from falling on the floor. I bit back a hiss as my toe stubbed on the chair leg. His shirt hiked up, revealing the gun clipped to the band of his shorts. I knew my dad and Mr. Shaw were involved in some real estate ventures together. Kind of made me wonder why a small time real estate mogul carried a gun.

“You too, Caris. Somehow we’ve managed not to run into each other, but your dad has told me so much about you. Erin, too.”

“Yeah, she’s been great, taking me under her wing.”

“And apologize to Noah for me. I didn’t mean to upset him.” He seemed genuinely distressed he’d upset Noah.

“I will. And tell Erin hi for me.” I made for the door, weaving through tables and chairs, grabbing a peppermint from a box on the counter. It had a sign above it for the Walton County Wildlife Rescue. I dug a dollar out of my front pocket and contributed it through the tiny slot.

“Caris.” Mr. Shaw’s voice was so close it startled me. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me. “Despite what Noah may tell you, I’m not the bad guy. I only want what’s best for Noah. For all of you.”

I muttered a “thanks” and pushed through the door into the blazing heat.

Noah was sitting in the Bronco with the engine running, fingers tapping restlessly against the wheel. I crawled inside and as soon as I shut my door, he rammed into reverse, tires squealing. We pulled out of the parking lot of the Fish House to the smell of burning rubber.

C
aris’s eyes
bore a hole in the side of my head as she sat next to me, waiting for some kind of explanation. I didn’t have one, not a rational one. Jamie wouldn’t want me blaming Marshall, but I couldn’t help it. It was easier that way, easier than blaming myself.

The sun had decided to come out in full force and burned right through the clouds, leaving a bright blue sky overhead. I usually welcomed the fuming heat, but it felt too stifling today. Sweat poured down my back, my shirt sticky against the seat. I made a hasty turn, prompting the car behind me to lay on the horn. A dude yelled something crude at me out the window that got lost under the canopy of trees. I had pulled onto an old service road to the state park. No one used it much anymore as it was totally obscured by a thick growth of scrub oaks and palmetto bushes. The wire that had held up the “no trespassing” sign was snapped off at one end, long buried under sand and leaves. Really it was more of a path with tire ruts faded into tired grass and dead leaves. My tires skidded to a stop on what was left of the gravel. I flung my door open, poised to jump out and run.

“You all right?” Caris ventured, turning half toward me.

I didn’t like the way she had looked at me all during lunch, like I was some hero for showing her how to breathe when she probably could have figured it out on her own. She would figure all this out on her own. She didn’t need me. I didn’t want her to need me. Did I? And I sure as hell didn’t want to think I needed her. Seeing Marshall always did this to me. Jumbled things up. Took the sense out of things that had made sense before.

“I gotta go.” I took off down the path and cut through the sand, eager to feel the water, let it wash away the sweat and the stink of guilt. It followed me everywhere in one form or another. Erin’s smiling but sad eyes. My mom’s attempts to make me into someone like my brother, someone I could never be. Jeb’s continual sympathy. Marshall and his “Noah, son.” He’d never called me son before. I wasn’t his son. We weren’t even family anymore. That link was gone. Everywhere I looked and everyone I saw acted as reminders of the thing I couldn’t yet admit to myself. I refused to admit it now.

The water acted as my oasis. A place to forget. A place of uninhibited movement where I could let go of my mind and just be. I surged through the Deep, wondering how far I had to go so I wouldn’t hear her anymore. Wondering if this was all my fault. If maybe some unacknowledged part of me had wanted to come home that day. Why else would I have been so close to shore?

I swam for miles, surrounded by nothing but the deep dark, letting it dull the edge of grief.

Her Song curled around me like silk ribbons, coaxing me back. I went, taking my time, rolling through the water, swimming to the languid tune of her Song. Out here, under the surface, it took on a mellow quality, reverberating around me in a slow coil. I saw her clearly through the water—long tanned legs, the tips of her pink toes partially buried on the sandy bottom where she had waded out as far as she dared go. Fish darted in and out her legs and nibbled at her feet. I swished them away with a wave of my arm and surfaced in front of her.

The wind had picked up, lifting her hair away from her face. Her eyes widened and sparked when she saw me. Lightning lived in her eyes. It crackled between us, drawing me closer. So close she had to crane her neck to look at me. My fists curled and uncurled at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her. She held me enthralled. So absolutely trapped.

“You’re singing,” I said, a simple acknowledgment of what was between us. She was afraid of me being obsessed with her and I thought maybe I was. I wanted to grab her, plunge my tongue into her mouth.

“I know. I’m sorry. I think it’s being here at the beach.” She crossed her arms defensively, as though I had accused her of a terrible crime. I heard her concerted effort to make it stop. Saw the line of concentration marring her forehead. I didn’t know how to convince her it was okay. Not without exposing too much of myself. I wasn’t ready for that.

“It’s okay.” My eyes dropped to her parted lips and I had to cup her jaw in my hand and run my thumb over her full bottom lip. It trembled when I did and I thought I might die if I didn’t kiss her.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Her voice wavered on the edge of some unknown precipice. I was right there with her, and if she asked me to jump with her, I would. Energy flowed through the water and I dropped my hands, circling her arms with my fingers and braced for the wave that was coming.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to kiss me,” she said on a breathless whisper barely heard over the dull wash of the waves.

“I was thinking about it.” My fingers tightened on her arms. I could hardly deny what was undoubtedly clear on my face. I wanted her. More than for her Song. More than for what she was. Had she been merely human, I would have wanted her.

“You can’t, Noah.” Her head shook in denial. “I know you said I wasn’t like my mother, that you weren’t afraid of me.” Her lips quivered. She tried so hard to put on a brave face. “But I’m afraid of me. Going beyond friends would be too much. I won’t risk hurting you. Promise me you won’t kiss me.” She looked genuinely scared, as if touching lips would seal us both to a fate worse than death. The last thing I wanted to do was add to her distress.

“I won’t kiss you,” I heard myself say, which was a boldfaced lie. And since I had already promised I wouldn’t lie to her, I amended, “Not unless you ask me to.”

She closed her eyes on a sigh, the relief so total that all the tension drained from her body and I literally held her up.

“You wouldn’t hurt anyone, Caris. You’re one of the kindest people I know.”

“Wouldn’t I? I hurt my dad.” Guilt clouded her eyes.

“Well, no disrespect to your dad, but he asked for it. I’ve felt like hurting him myself on your behalf.” I wasn’t ready to sympathize with Mr. Harper yet. I may never be ready for that.

“I’ve been ignoring him. I haven’t even said one word to him in days. For seventeen years he was all I had and now I can’t even talk to him.” She pulled out of my grasp and I let her go, following her back to the shore.

“A few days is nothing. He understands, Caris. I doubt he expected you to forgive him overnight.”

She paused, letting a trio of sandpipers scuttle by, chasing the tide, before picking out a spot on the sand beside her discarded cover-up. She’d stripped back down to her bathing suit. It was different than the one she’d worn the day Sol had pushed her off Jax’s boat—more modest boy shorts, no strings in sight.

I sat down about a foot away from her and leaned back on my elbows. She remained silent and I closed my eyes to listen. I’d never understood the landers who wore earphones or listened to the radio while they were out here. The Gulf, even on days like today when the waves were docile, still offered a comforting lave. The wind buzzed and the yellow flag fifty yards away slapped lazily in the light breeze.

“How do you find such deserted beaches?” Caris turned her head one way, then the other. It wasn’t totally deserted. A few people walked along the shore, far enough away to be ignored. Off in the distance a couple scooted side by side on paddleboards, taking advantage of the calm conditions of the Gulf.

“Well, this is our beach,” I said.

“Who lives there?” Caris pointed to my house nestled against the dunes like a buried treasure.

It sat on a strip of beachfront cordoned off with a wire fence and official government signs that warned trespassers to keep off. Two thousand feet of prime Gulf front that decades ago my grandfather had negotiated for in a deal that had afforded us more privacy than many of our kind enjoyed.

“I do. With my mom.” I picked up a piece of dried grass and cracked it between my fingers. “And sometimes Jeb.”

“So he is a good friend of yours.” She shoulder-bumped me then lay back, stretching out under the afternoon sun.

“Pretty much family,” I said.

“He said something about a tribe. How many of us are there?”

“Not as many as there used to be. Fifty-seven in our tribe. Maybe a couple thousand total on the entire Gulf coast.” Which, when all was said and done, was a minuscule number.

“Why do you hate Mr. Shaw?” She looked at me from under the shade of her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m prying.”

“Yeah, you are.” I threw the piece of grass at her. It landed on the flat ridge of her stomach. She didn’t have the kind of skin that would ever get really tan. Lightly toasted was what I would call her. Totally edible. “I don’t hate Mr. Shaw. Obviously he knows what we are. What we can do. He wanted to use some of our talents to help him catch some bad guys.” I huffed to myself, remembering how naive we’d been. “He made it sound so badass and glamorous.”

“What happened?” Caris had rolled on her side, propping her head on her elbow.

“Officially, nothing. Unofficially, a simple reconnaissance mission that ended with a boat exploding. As far as Marshall knew, Jamie was on that boat.” My eyes drifted from her face to the Gulf water. “There was a chance, a small one, he could have survived. The water can heal us to a degree.” I looked back down at the smooth column of her throat. “Can’t piece us back together, though. I had to search anyway. Just in case.”

“I’m sorry.” Her hand was warm and gentle on my arm and soothed away the tension that ebbed through my body.

“Yeah, me too.” I cleared my throat of the knot of emotion.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” I dropped my gaze. “I quit high school, so I’m kind of a loser.”

“I can’t even think about school right now.” She fell back in the sand, her arm draped over her face. “After the last week, Kentucky feels like another life.”

For Caris, in so many ways, it was another life. One she couldn’t go back to.

“Caris, when your dad brought you back here it was for good. You can’t leave. You’re bound to the water now.”

“I guess I knew that.” Her laugh was a depreciating sound that tore at my heart. “Joke’s on Caris.” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “It’s like some elaborate prank that everyone was in on.” She dipped her chin, eyes cast down to the sand. “And you’re not a loser. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Well, there’s a couple of people who might argue with you about that.” I had been half joking when I’d said that, but it almost felt a little true. School was out of the question. Even if I had a high school diploma, it wouldn’t change anything. College sounded like more of the same torture. I wasn’t too keen on jumping back on Marshall’s wagon; my heart wasn’t in it anymore.

“Like who?”

“I think my mom is worried about my future. She wants me to finish school.”

“What do you want?”

“I have no freaking idea, but it doesn’t involve stepping into any kind of classroom.” That was true long term. Short term, I wanted to sit right here and keep enjoying a day that was turning out to be almost perfect.

“Yeah, me either.” She dropped her hands between her knees and started digging in the sand, letting it run through her fingers. “I saw him.”

“Who?”

“Athen Kelley. My father.” The words came timidly off her lips, as if she was afraid to even say his name.

“And?” My body tensed at the perceived threat. The thought of her being anywhere near that man without me chilled my blood. An irrational thought. I wasn’t her bodyguard. Still, I’d never been so eager to throw myself in front of speeding bullets for any of my other friends.

“I think he knew who I was, but I was with my dad and he got me out of there pretty fast. Dragged me, actually.” She cast her eyes out over the water like she expected him to come striding out. “I just feel so stupid. Even Sol knew what I was before I did, and Erin suspected.”

“Caris, you’re not stupid, and none of this is your fault.”

She turned her eyes on me and a determined look stole over her face. “Sol said something about you. When I asked him what he was doing on the boat, he said he was doing what you wouldn’t. What did he mean by that?”

“Tossing you overboard. The key to breaking the charm completely is for you to be in the water as much as possible. But he didn’t know what I did. The not being able to swim, the not breathing part.”

“So you don’t think he tried to drown me on purpose?”

“I kind of hate the guy, but no. I don’t think he tried to drown you on purpose. It was still cruel. I think he did it more to goad me than any real desire to help you. Sol doesn’t help anyone but himself.” I stood and offered my hand. “Sol’s methods suck but he was right. You need water.”

“What, out there?” Her eyes worried over the horizon. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Come on. You’ve been ready for seventeen years.”