Beyond the Rising Tide Page 15

  “Why?” Helen leans back to look at me. “Are you in trouble?”

  “No—not like criminal or anything. It’ll just … make things a lot harder if you tell anyone you saw me.”

  “You know you’re a missing person, right?” Jane says.

  “Sure, but you two are the only ones who really care. And now you know where I am. Besides, I turn eighteen in a few months. So what difference does it make? I’ll be on my own anyway.”

  They both nod, wordlessly agreeing to say nothing about my visit. Helen notices the guitar at my feet and her brows pinch together. “Has that been here all this time?”

  “Yeah. I came here last December, but no one was home. It was raining, so I stashed it here in the shed.”

  She tips her head. “Why didn’t you wait for us to get home?”

  “I did. For a couple days.” I point to the covered back patio with cushiony patio furniture. “I slept there.” And then I went to the ocean, where I drowned.

  She releases a sad sigh. “It must have been when we went on the cruise. Prices are cheaper in December, so …” She waves it off. “Where are you staying now?”

  “Around.”

  Jane grabs my hand and holds it the way she used to when she was scared, when she was four and I was eight. “Kai—are you homeless?”

  “No. I live at the place I work. And I’m getting fed and everything, okay?”

  “Well,” Helen says, “I’m glad you’re being taken care of … or taking care of yourself. You always were good at that. And … always good at taking care of us.” Her chin quivers. “Thanks for that.”

  I pull them both into a hug again, mostly so they can’t see the tears welling in my eyes. “I love you guys. Never forget it.”

  “When will we see you again?” Jane asks.

  I don’t reply for a long time, because I don’t have a clue of how to answer. There is no good answer. No answer that won’t leave them with false hope or no hope at all. “I don’t know,” I say. “But I will see you again.” They just won’t be able to see me.

  he next morning, I pass row after row of vines at Isadora’s vineyard, peering down the alley between each one in search of Kai. The sun is peeking over the rolling horizon, and the tops of the vines are gilded with light. The air is crisp and clean, full of the possibilities of a new day.

  I woke this morning with a surge of newfound courage to take back the life I discarded six months ago. Mom was still sleeping, so I left her a note, and then went to Dad’s where I put on a surf tee and board shorts, packed a beach bag, and strapped two surfboards to the top of my Cherokee. I’m not sure how this day is going to go, but I’m optimistically prepared.

  Down at the end of one of the rows, I glimpse a wooden gate with a lavender field and a little cottage behind it. I pause, wondering if that’s where Kai is staying. And then I hear something. Faint music, coming from the direction of the cottage. I follow the sound down the row of vines, and it gets more distinct the closer I get to the cottage. Guitar strings, being plucked in a downpour of melancholy notes, and I don’t have to see Kai now to know exactly where he is.

  The gate squeaks loudly as I pass through, but Kai must not hear because there’s no pause in his music. I approach the front of the cottage slowly, wanting to listen without him knowing I’m here. When I reach the bottom of the porch steps, I see him through the screen door. He’s sitting on the cottage floor, bent dejectedly over the guitar in his lap. His voice joins the guitar, the sounds entwining in a divine duet, and I hold my breath because the only thing I want to hear is him.

  “Weak heart and untimely fate … await me at this broken gate.”

  His tones travel the distance between us and spill into my chest, as though through his voice, I feel what he’s feeling. His eyes are shut tight as he sings, his brow a series of ripples that reminds me of a restless sea right before a storm.

  “Forbid heaven to alter; For her, I would die but not falter.”

  I rest my head against the porch post and watch him through the screen, thinking how I could stand here and listen to him all day. And then I wonder who he’s singing about, what memories are inspiring such deep emotion. Maybe it’s for a girl he loves. Or something to do with what he told me yesterday, about not having a place to call home. I find myself moving slowly toward him, questioning myself with each step. I feel like I’m intruding, because I’ve never seen him quite so vulnerable, so unmasked.

  A wooden board creaks under my step, and the music stops. His head snaps up, and I glimpse the pain in his eyes before he quickly composes his expression into pleasant surprise.

  He leans his guitar against the wall and rises, then comes to the screen door, pausing a heartbeat before pushing it open and joining me on the porch. He smells like lavender and mint, and the sad tones of his song are still resounding in my ears.

  “Hey,” I say.

  One corner of his mouth turns up. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

  “I got today off.” It took some finagling with Sophie, but I was finally able to convince her to swap days with me in exchange for the newest Astromotts album.

  I want to ask Kai what he was singing about. From the way his smile faded just now, I can tell he’s still in whatever dark place inspired that song. His lips are moving, like he’s fighting with them, trying to produce another smile.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  It takes him a minute to find his voice. “That’s a very glass-half-empty question to ask.” His smile returns. “Why don’t you ask me what’s right?”

  If it’ll get him to talk about himself, I’ll play along. “Okay—what’s right?”

  He takes a half step toward me, and with his head dipped and his eyes on my purple toenail polish, he says, “This moment, right here.”

  My heart does a weird triple beat, because I think he might lean down and kiss me. Just like I thought he was going to kiss me yesterday when we were in the herb garden.

  He closes his eyes, but instead of moving in for a kiss, he leans away and says, “The humid, eighty-degree breeze on my arms. It’s just right.” He inhales deeply. “The scent of lavender in the air. That’s just right.” He opens his eyes and looks down at my board shorts and surf tee, and a smile spreads across his lips, so wide it makes a little crease in his cheek. “And a friend, here on my porch, come to take me surfing. It’s perfect.”

  “I’m not making any promises,” I say. “But I am taking you to the beach.”

  “How much farther?” Kai asks from the passenger seat.

  I glance at the clock on the dashboard. We’ve been driving for about thirty minutes now. “Patience.”

  “Where are we going, exactly?”

  I don’t answer, just look over at him and smile. The wind is blowing through the windows, flipping his hair in his eyes and making little ripples in his shirt. My hair is everywhere—in my face, on my arms, halfway out the window. Kai reaches over and gathers it up, securing it at the nape of my neck. His hand on the back of my neck makes me feel warm. I keep my face forward and try to concentrate on the road, hoping he won’t notice the burn in my cheeks.

  The turnoff to the beach comes sooner than I expect, and I almost miss it. I slam on the brakes and make a sharp turn onto a faint sandy road. Our seats bounce beneath us as we wind through dried grass and sand down to a secluded beach not visible from the road.

  “There’s no one here,” Kai says.

  “You’re not the only one with fiercely guarded secrets.” I open my door and step into the warm sand, leaving my flip-flops under the gas pedal.

  Rocky cliffs contain the crescent-shaped beach on either side, and the morning sun cuts directly through them, lighting up the water like sapphires. A salty breeze brushes my cheeks and pushes my hair off my shoulders. A southerly, I think as I close my eyes. Perfect.

  I listen to the waves crashing on the shore, and for the first time in months, instead of tormenting me, they beckon to me. For a moment, I imagi
ne them beneath me, lifting me, pushing me forward like wind behind a sail.

  “If it’s a secret,” Kai says, his voice close to me, “how did you find it?”

  I open my eyes. He’s standing right beside me, my beach bag slung over his shoulder, one of my neglected surfboards tucked under his arm.

  “My dad,” I say. “He used to come here with his buddies before the chocolate shop took over his life. This is where he taught me to surf.” I point to the cliffs. “The shape of the cove and the contours of the ocean floor create the perfect surf. At high tide, the waves are usually mild and spilling—perfect for beginners.” I give him a pointed look. “And then when the tide drops, the shallow reef makes the waves steep and fast. With an onshore wind, you get crystal clear tubes. It’s pretty much surfer heaven.” I shoot Kai a warning look. “Only a handful of locals know about it.”

  A faint, secretive smile softens his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it to my grave.”

  I look at the surfboard under his arm. He has my five-foot short board. “You can’t start with that. Try the long board first, to get a feel for the waves. Once you master that, you can try the short board.”

  He looks like he’s about to object, but instead says, “Teacher knows best.” He hands me the short board and slides the long board off the car rack. We take a short walk through parched grass and sand, then set our things down out of the water’s reach. Kai peels off his T-shirt so he’s wearing only board shorts, and it takes conscious effort not to gawk.

  I spread out a towel and sit down, gazing at the sea for a long time and taking slow, deep breaths, trying to re-acclimate to a place I haven’t been to in so long. I feel a little jittery, but as I run my hand through the warm sand and focus on the feeling, it calms me a bit.

  “So,” Kai says, laying the surfboard on the sand near me, “you gonna show me how it’s done?”

  I pull sunglasses from my beach bag and slide them on, thinking about what Kai said the day before about bargains. “I’ll tell you what. For every question you answer, I’ll give you a surfing tip.”

  He stares down at me, and I see his gears turning, considering. Finally he crouches beside me and says, “I have a better idea.”

  “You always do,” I say, digging a paperback from my bag.

  “Let’s play a game.”

  “Aren’t we already?”

  He ignores my attempt at banter. “It’s called Truth and Dare.”

  I set my book down. “You mean Truth or Dare?”

  “No—I mean Truth and Dare.”

  I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

  “If you dare to come in the water with me, I’ll tell you the truth about anything you want to know.”

  Warily, I look at the water and debate whether or not it’s a good trade-off. On one side of the cove, the waves are curling into perfect cylinders. I picture myself gliding through them on my surfboard, and for a split second, I want to abandon our pending deal and paddle out to sea. But then I think of the last time I was on my surfboard, and my skin turns cold. “I like my offer better.”

  “It’s a lopsided bargain,” he argues, “so it’s no good. I want more than surfing tips for my secrets.”

  I stare at him, seriously considering, and my heart is suddenly throbbing in my throat. In his eyes, I see the same message he gave me yesterday in the vineyard. Get up. Life is too short to stay down when we fall. Get up.

  “Just … get your feet wet,” he says.

  My mouth is parched, and I have to swallow before I can speak again. “Are you saying if I get my feet wet, you’ll tell me anything I want to know?” I mentally recall my Mysteries of Kai Lennon list, preparing to ask him about every item.

  He holds out his hands. When I don’t move, he reaches down and takes my wrists, pulling me to my feet. He removes my sunglasses and tosses them on my towel. Then he backs up a few paces until he steps into the sizzling foam of a wave. “Ask me something,” he says.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to turn your back on the ocean?”

  “Is that really the question you want me to answer?” When I say nothing, he says, “Come on. Ask me something.”

  Where is that brave girl I saw in the mirror last night? My pulse is racing, and even though the weather is perfect, the back of my neck is suddenly on fire. There is so much I want to know about Kai. But are his answers worth the guilt and panic and pain I’ll feel the moment my toes touch the water?

  Searching for strength, I look into his face and find something unexpected. My fear and pain seem to be reflected in his eyes. And I realize I’m not alone. That maybe, in some small way, he understands. He has wounds to heal from and demons to battle like I do. And here he is, offering to share them with me.

  I take a step toward him, then another, and another, until I’m standing right in front of him on the wet sand. My question comes out breathy. “What were you singing about this morning?” My lips are dry, and I moisten them with the tip of my tongue.

  “I was singing about things I’ve lost. Things I worked hard for, that were taken from me.”

  “Like what?”

  He takes three steps back at the same time a flood of water rushes up behind him, past him, and reaches for me. I brace myself, clenching my fists and keeping my eyes on Kai as cold water rises to my ankles and then gradually recedes. He raises his hand and summons me closer.

  I’m trembling at the core, and I fold my arms tightly to still myself, making a conscious effort to distance my nails from my skin. I can do this. I can face my fears for a moment so I can hear Kai’s answer. Just this one, then I can go back to dry sand. I come to him and lift an eyebrow, waiting for his answer.

  “Like home. And dreams. And family. Things I love, that are just out of reach.”

  Another wave rushes over my feet, rising to my calves. I have the impulse to run for dry sand, get in my car, and drive to the middle of the Mojave Desert. But my desire to uncover Kai’s secrets is even stronger. “What happened to your family? Why are your sisters living with your aunt and uncle? Where are your parents?”

  “That’s three questions.”

  “So pick one and answer.”

  He backs up again. This time, the waves crest at his thighs, and a surge of panic is cresting in my throat. Curse him. Why won’t he just tell me? Why is it such a big deal to him that I go in the water? The half-smile on his lips asks what I’m waiting for. Then he says something so quietly I can’t hear it.

  “What?” I yell over the waves.

  He motions for me to come closer. I take a few deep breaths, and then clenching my fists so tight that my nails dig into my palms, I come.

  “My mom died when I was eight,” he says. “A couple years later my dad went to prison. My aunt and uncle adopted my sisters, and I grew up in foster care.” His calm expression doesn’t match his words. He should be grimacing or getting teary-eyed or something. But maybe he’s already cried all his tears. And for a moment, instead of seeing him as a platinum blond hunk, I picture him as a young boy, crying in the back of a social worker’s car as he’s torn from the only family he knows.

  “Why didn’t they adopt you too?”

  He takes five big steps back until he’s waist-deep. He drops his hands, letting them float on the top of the water. I step closer. With each stride, my feet sink deeper into the soggy ocean floor. It’s like walking into quicksand, knowing that I’ll soon be pulled under to suffocate. My breaths are coming fast now, as though they’re the last ones I’ll take. But I keep my eyes on Kai, and somehow, I push through the fear and make it to him. He gives me a little smile that says, I’m proud of you.

  “So?” I coax breathlessly for an answer.

  He looks down thoughtfully. The sun reflects off the water and catches in his sea-blue eyes, making them almost luminous. “Because I was trouble, and they were afraid of me.” He glances up at me as though looking for my reaction. I have no idea what my face looks like, but whatever he sees makes him divulge
a little more. “I had a rap sheet. Which made me a major liability.”

  I want to ask what kind of rap sheet a ten-year-old could possibly have, but it doesn’t matter. I know Kai. I know he’s good, and if his aunt and uncle really knew him, they’d have taken him no matter what he’d done. And then I remember what he said last night on the pier, about how he came to Avila Beach to see if he could stay with them. “So you’re grown up now, and this … amazing person, and they still won’t let you live with them?”

  He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on my own now.”

  His words make me think of the boy who saved my life. Because I’ve always sensed that he was on his own too. No one at the beach could tell us who he was. No one in the area came forward to report a missing person. Maybe the boy was as alone as Kai is now.

  The waves roll in, one after another, and the water rises to my hips and then drops to my calves. A bass drum pounds in my chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. The waves crash into us, pushing us toward shore, then pulling us farther out to sea.

  Rise, drop. Rise, drop. Push, pull. Push, pull.

  This is where the boy died. Not in this spot, or on this beach. But the ocean is one, big connected mass. This is still his grave.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The water is frigid, cutting to my bones. But my body is on fire, every cell burning with guilt.

  I shut my eyes, trying to push the thoughts aside. I feel Kai’s fingers, warm and steady, wrap around my hands.

  “Look at me,” he says, and when I open my eyes, his clear, aquamarine gaze holds me in place. He’s standing in front of me, a barrier between me and the sea, and I feel safe here in his harbor. “Ask me another question.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Of all the things I want to know, this has suddenly become the most important.

  He studies me for a long moment, then says, “Because I can see how much you want it.” A breeze pushes my hair into my face, and Kai reaches up and brushes it back. “It’s time to stop punishing yourself, Avery. It’s what he would want. It’s what you want. Let yourself live.”