Divine (2 page)

He shrugged. It didn’t matter. Nothing
mattered. Not anymore. He unbuttoned the shirt cuffs, shoved the
sleeves up his arm, and threw another stone.
Four skips.
“Not bad.” He pitched another.
Six.

Skipping rocks didn’t lessen the
bone-crushing heaviness inside him. His mind too crowded with
memories to think, he rested his forearms on his bent knees and
hung his head. “Jeez, I miss her. Fuck!”

A branch snapped behind him.

He flinched.
Who found me?
No one knew
this spot. No one, except for Travis. One afternoon Mom and Dad
left his big brother in charge. As soon as his parents left, they
got into a fight, and he escaped out the basement door to the
river. Travis followed. After he checked the area and told him to
be careful, he left. It had to be him. The way he fled the funeral
service without a word, Travis was probably going ballistic.

Since their father died, Travis had tried to
take on the role of the man of the house. He strived to be the
perfect brother and a good role model. It drove Matt nuts, but he
understood and appreciated him.

Without parents, how would Travis act? “I
probably can’t even take a crap without permission.” He tensed. He
didn’t want a lecture for swearing. Not today, not on any day, but
darn if Travis didn’t give him one whenever he had half a chance.
It didn’t make sense. Travis used cuss words like a freaking
companion, like drinking a glass of milk with cookies. The two went
together.

Forget that. Matt wouldn’t deal with a tongue
lashing today. He stiffened his upper lip so Travis didn’t see his
chin quivering. Again, why did it matter? He’d cried right along
with Matt.

Inside the tree line, a skinny, pale leg
emerged.
Not Travis
. An even skinnier arm and hand moved a
branch out of their way. The tree limbs parted. Red hair flashed.
White, pale skin contrasted against the layers of blue covering her
torso and orange shorts.
A girl?

His neck stiffened. Who was she to come to
his hiding spot? The girl about his age didn’t walk out of the
woods but ran. He jumped to his feet and eyed the trees.

Branches didn’t shake. The leaves didn’t
sway. Only the noise of rushing water and the girl’s feet crunching
sticks. Even the crickets and frogs quieted.

She jolted to a stop a foot away, and her
hands smacked her cheeks. Eyes, the shade of the forest, widened as
they fixed on his. If it weren’t for their bright coloring, she’d
have the deer-in-the-headlight resemblance pegged. Her hair stuck
out in all directions.

He stretched out a hand to tuck the wayward
strands behind her ear when she shot him a don’t-touch-me-glare.
What am I doing?
Scratches marred her arms and legs. Black
lines streaked her face, and dirt smeared her clothes.

Matt didn’t know anything about girl’s
clothing. Judging by the material, he would say expensive. He’d
guessed her shorts and shirt cost more than anything his parents
had bought him, times two.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping back.

While the scared expression stayed, her
pupils contracted. “Why are you here?”

Her indignant tone lit a fire into him. “It’s
my spot,” he snapped, without regard to the fact that he didn’t own
the area. Folding his arms over his chest, he dug his fingers into
his ribs to deflect his emotions and not lash out again.

She studied his face far too long before
taking in his shirt, mud-splotched pants, and muddy shoes. Her
attention drifted to his discarded jacket and tie and then darted
to him.

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, his shirt
collar grew tight. Goose bumps broke out across his skin. Shifting
his weight from foot to foot, he slid a hand under his shirt collar
and tugged. The button flew.

She cocked her head and observed him like he
was a specimen and she the scientist. Then he saw it. The skin on
her forehead crinkled as if in recognition. She’d heard about his
mom. Everyone asked about the accident. The more people asked, the
worse he felt. He didn’t want questions, didn’t want sympathy. He
wanted to be left alone.

“Don’t pity me,” he gruffed out.

She dismissed his comment. “Why would I? What
happened?”

Her soft tone brought feelings of doom; the
type of awareness that if he didn’t watch it, he’d tell her
everything. Not something he did with his buddies, and definitely
not something he wanted to do with some girl.

He dropped his arms to his sides, rubbed his
fingertips over the imaginary itch on the outside of his thighs.
Knowing what to do with his hands had never been a problem. He
shoved them into his pockets so the restrictive lining would keep
them still.

Putting himself on guard, he muffled a groan
and went for a joke to bring life to his pity party. “I dressed to
play my violin.”

She scrubbed her cheeks. “You play?”

So self-involved, he hadn’t noticed her
splotchy face and the eye-to-chin black streaks on her cheeks from
her makeup. Mentally, he kicked his butt. In the face of what he
experienced, he paid attention to others. Living by this philosophy
kept him grounded, so said Dad. He had enforced it on him and
Travis.
Don’t ever be so self-absorbed, you don’t see another’s
pain
.

“Sure do,” he said, liking how she distracted
him from his worries. “It’s right here.” He pulled his hand out of
his pocket and rubbed his thumb over the tip of his forefinger.

Silence. A long moment passed. Afraid his
joke didn’t work and would backfire, he tried to recall a funny
story from the book he kept on his nightstand. His memory failed.
He couldn’t draw on any of the tales he usually dumped on his
friends.

She let out an odd noise. The corners of her
lips twitched and a full out laugh exploded. A sound so striking,
he lost his footing and braced a foot behind him to regain balance.
Darn, if something odd didn’t hitch inside him. Weird. And
scary!

She plopped on the bank where he’d sat and
flung a rock across the water.

Six hops!
Admiration filled him. “Wow,
you’re pretty good.”

“Thank you. I’ve had lots of practice. I’m
the best.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Skipping a rock six times
on the first throw put her on his awesome list, yet he wouldn’t
concede to her being the best. “Let me try.”

“Try?” She laughed. “Please, you’re a guy.
You’ve been out here in your Sunday best for hours practicing. I
bet you’ll skip the rock across the river.”

Matt’s chest swelled. He’d sure like to carry
out what she said. “I’ve never done it.”

“You will today.”

Long, flowing hair, more the color of the
setting sun than a blazing red, danced around her shoulders. She
smiled, and her eyes twinkled.

He tapped the pad of his finger on her perky
nose. “I like the way you think.”

“I’m glad someone does,” she said on a half
giggle and sniffles.

An awkward quietness ensued. He didn’t know
whether to pat her on the back or run.

“Let’s see what you got,” she teased,
removing the thick-aired tension.

He pulled his arm back, ready to impress the
girl—where’d that come from?—and slung.

Two hops.
He dropped his chin. “It’s
not my day.”

“Well…” She picked up a rock and stood. “For
one, you didn’t hold your mouth right.” She stuck her tongue out
the corner of her mouth. “And, you didn’t angle your shoulder in
the direction you wanted it to go.” She twisted her body, her hair
bouncing around her neck, making all kinds of unusual fantasies pop
into his mind. “Then sling it.”

She slanted her head, reared her elbow back,
and rolled her wrist. The rock leapt from her hand and skipped the
water’s surface.

Eight hops.
Envy hit him square
between the eyes. “Amazing!”

“Your turn.” She jerked her head around,
searching the ground. “I’ll find you a rock.”

He grabbed a stick and jabbed it into the
dirt.
Getting beat by a girl. What has this day come to?

“There’s a pile of them.” She pointed to the
edge of the water to the pebbles he wouldn’t touch because reaching
for them would put his life in danger. With no branches to use as a
safety line, one misstep could end deadly.

Again she topped him, not letting the risk
scare her off.

What if she didn’t know about the river’s
threat? Didn’t know about the instability of a river’s edge? The
ground could give when you least expected. Worse, the changing
undertow played tricks, gentle as a kitten one minute, rough as a
lion the next. “You shouldn’t—”

Her body tipped forward. A blood-curling
scream blasted the air.

Matt froze a beat before a sudden burst of
energy blasted him to his feet. He toed off his shoes, bolted past
the no swimming signs, and leapt into the roiling, lukewarm
water.

The girl’s arms flailed to the surface.
“Help!” She sputtered as the tendrils of death jerked her out of
sight.

Terror shot him toward the water. “No!”

Rocky gorges on the river’s floor, mixed with
the churning water, posed another threat, but he had no option. He
dove under, swam in the direction she disappeared, and ignored the
fear neither of them would resurface.

Particles of dirt pricked his eyes. He
entered the concentrated whirlwind, the river’s wrath. A hard
object smacked him with as much force as a branch falling. He
thrashed a hand forward, hoping and praying he’d find her. The
current grabbed at his arms and legs like hungry hands greedy for
food.

Kicking and shoving at the water weakened his
resolve. If he went down with the current, lord help him, he didn’t
care. But he didn’t want anything to happen to the girl.

He dug deep on an adrenaline rush, ignored
his screaming lungs, and stretched a hand into the darkness. Slight
pressure thumped his arm.

Her hand!

With his insides vibrating, he gripped onto
her arm and tugged. She came easily, a lot easier and lighter than
he expected. Securing his hold, he kicked to the surface and gasped
for air. A piercing sound escaped him, filling his eardrums as he
brought her above water.

“I gotcha ya. You’re gonna be okay,” he said
between heavy pants, to soothe her as much as to calm his jittery
nerves.

With an arm wrapped under each of her
armpits, he swam on his back to the shore. He didn’t know her,
didn’t know where she lived, and didn’t know what had scared her
when she ran to the river.

What if she couldn’t tell him? What if he
never discovered anything more? He stopped his wandering thoughts
from diving down the black hole of doom and shoved aside the shock
that he wanted to learn so much.

Close to shore, his feet bumped the murky
soil of the river’s floor. He straightened. With a hand under her
butt, the other under her neck, he curled her into him. Her head
fell backwards, an arm dangled at her side. Purplish-pink lips
stood out against her pale skin. He hustled up a small slope and
laid her on a patch of grass.

He saved her! His heart leapt!

But she didn’t move. A lasso sensation
tightened his chest and his stomach clenched. “Miss,” he said,
staying on his knees beside her. He pressed two fingers to her
neck, as he’d seen Travis do for a neighbor who’d passed out.

The beat was steady, strong.

He pressed his palms between her breastbone,
pumped his hands twice the way he’d learned CPR during gym class,
and examined her off-colored lips. The deep pink lightened. He
swallowed and did it again. Still, she didn’t move.

With a hand under her neck, he lifted her
chin, pinched her nose with his free hand, and covered her mouth
with his. He blew a puff of air and did it again.

Her chest rose.

After two more palm-pumps to her breastbone,
he covered her mouth with his and blew.

She coughed and squirmed, her breathing
raspy, but she was alive.

Tension fled his body and emotion filled him.
Covering his face with his hands, he sat on his folded legs and
sucked in a slow breath.

His palms grew damp. His body stunk, not from
the water but from the cold sweat breaking out across his skin.
Adrenaline had shot him into action, and he’d found strength beyond
his capacity to save her. The rush left in waves, leaving him
fatigued. An overabundance of emotions that didn’t make sense
filled him. He didn’t know whether to run, hit something, or cry.
Then one which didn’t make sense—he wanted to pull her into his
arms.

With a long-suffering sigh, he peeked between
his fingers at the girl.

She rubbed her hands over her nose and mouth
and stopped coughing. “Thank you,” she whispered so softly he
leaned closer to hear.

“You’re okay,” he said and bobbed his head.
His muscles twitched from the aftereffects.

“I could have died,” she blubbered.

She could have. If he didn’t take the plunge,
she more than likely would have. The realization knocked the air
plum out of him. “Yes, but you didn’t.”

“You saved me.” Her words grew more rushed
with each syllable. “Thank you!”

He recognized her longing expression as she
rose into a sitting position. The one saying she would pay him with
more than a “thanks.” His mother held the same mien a second before
she kissed his father. His mouth went dry and his pulse escalated,
but he didn’t budge. Keeping his gaze, her lips touched his, soft
as a rose petal. An odd appreciation boomeranged through him. As
soon as the feeling began, she retreated, and it ended.

Not sure if she wanted him to kiss her or
not, he did what any idiot guy would do. He stared at her stretched
on the ground. She was beautiful. Her hair fanned around her
shoulders. A few strands lay across her face.

A powerful draw gave him a sense she needed
him, not like his mother, father, or even his brother had, but
needed him for him. The impact calmed and reassured him that his
life would be okay.