Spring Tide (25 page)

“He has a point, Donovan.” Julia rubbed my back. “Her power coupled with the confusion and anger from this experience could very easily make her go the wrong direction.”

Jericho pointed to the windows. “Her signature thundered and the noise from her head was deafening. Her power is extraordinary.”

Donovan walked to the kitchen, opened a cabinet door and gasped. He picked up a glass stein and it fell apart in his hand, shards falling onto the counter and floor. “Ask her.”

Jericho sat across from me and put his hand on my cheek. “Sweetheart, Julia can make it go away. Do you want it to go away?”

My brain was still processing everything they’d said, the compression waves telling me their voices were at normal volume or elevated, but seemed so soft. Jericho brought his face closer to mine and asked the question two more times.

My head turned to Julia. “Make Aaron go away.”

She put one hand on each side of my face. Brown light streamed from her eyes into mine.

His arm was around my middle, his face was in my hair, and his breath was tickling the back of my neck. The exterior door in his bedroom was open and the sky was gray again, the sun’s rays breaking through in small clearings. I rolled over.

“Hey.” He inhaled deeply.

“I’m so sleepy.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got back last night. I got tied up, I mean, I uh had a minor emergency to take care of at the marina.”

I sat up and rubbed my chest. “I’m wearing your shirt?” I shifted back against the headboard. “You know, I don’t remember coming home. Did I—”

“You were asleep on the couch with your tunes glued to your ears when I got in. You were wearing that shirt. I like it on you.”

I picked up my shorts from the foot of the bed and put them on.
Where are my jeans?
“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

I walked into the living room, stopped and looked again. Julia and Donovan were eating cereal and toast at the dining table.

“I thought y’all weren’t coming back ’til January. Everything okay?” I took two mugs from the cabinet.
Where’re all the glasses?
I checked the dishwasher—nothing there.

“Donovan’s crews are having issues and will only speak to him, so we came back to resolve the matter,” Julia said. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Good.” I swabbed my chest. “I had a messed up dream about this guy I went to school with. Oh my Lord! What happened to the windows?”

Every single pane in the living room was bullet holed like an M-16 had been let loose in the house.

“Birds,” Jericho surfaced and took a big gulp from my mug. “There was a big storm last night. You didn’t hear it? A flock must have gotten dislocated in the downpour. I’ve heard of this happening. Crazy.”

Birds? Storm? I didn’t hear any wind.
“Where are the bodies and feathers? Every window?”

“I cleaned it up earlier.” Donovan wiped his mouth. “My internal clock is off. Nice to see you.”

They were all looking at each other and then at me. I checked the zipper of my shorts.

My watch read two forty-five and I spit coffee all over the place. “I’m so late. Jermaine’s gonna execute me! How could you let me sleep this late?” I hit Jericho on the back and ran to his room. “Where’re my jeans? My backpack?”

I rushed out to the living room. My backpack was by the couch. I always put it down inside his bedroom door.

“Jeff called the house around seven this morning.” Julia rose and took her dishes to the kitchen. “There was a fire in the storage area. He said the whole place went up and something about from the ashes rises the phoenix.”

I spun around to face her. “What?”

“The Landing burned to the ground,” Jericho said. “There’s nowhere for you to go.”

“Fire?” I stood there for ten seconds with my mouth open before I went looking for my phone. It was in my backpack. Ever since the assault I always charged it as soon as I got home. I listened to a message from Jermaine, the freakage mounting, and then picked up my shoes that reeked of nail polish remover. My heart rate jumped, a feeling of terror coming from deep inside. A few moments later, it went away.
Was I on PCP last night? Where the hell are my jeans?

“Kris?” He touched my arm.

“I’ve gotta go see it.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Fine, but I’m leaving in two minutes.”

I waited for him, little pieces of the dream from the previous night replaying in spurts, the hair on my arms standing straight up. He took my keys, insisting that he drive.

One fire truck and two police cars were obscured by smoke. Jermaine was talking to an officer and called to me. Thankfully no one had been hurt, the blaze starting around two in the morning and likely caused by faulty wiring. I wished Jermaine well as I internally lost my marbles.

I got in Jericho’s truck and banged my head against the window, keeping rhythm with my words. “What … am … I … gonna … do? What am … I gonna … do now?”

“You don’t have to worry about it right this second.”

“Yes I do. I have to have a job. That was a really important job!” I pounded my forehead against the dash.

“Please stop doing that.” He put his arm between my skull and its target. “Be with me for a couple days and then we’ll figure out what to do with you. Look at it this way: every day can be Happy Sunday for a bit.”

But there was no Happy Sunday without a work week to precede it.

When we arrived at his house I did what anyone would do when they found themselves jobless due to a massive restaurant fire. I sat on the couch and watched motocross. During the commercials, I started writing down the recipes that I’d been formulating for months to give me something to do. After an hour, I set the notebook aside and went looking for him. He was lying in bed, his arms folded under his head.

I fell down next to him and breathed deep. He smelled so good. My hands ran over the muscles of his arms, but I was unaffected. His kiss was slow, soft, and sweet, but it wasn’t doing what it normally would.

He pulled back. “You okay?”

“I have no memory of last night, other than it being slow at work. For all I know, Jermaine cocked off about something and I set the fire. I … it feels like my brain was rewired. I’m out of sorts.”

He turned me onto my side, putting my back to his chest. Our fingers were entwined, tightening and loosening, the sailfish above us mocking me for being unemployed.

“Hon?” he said.

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve been meaning to tell for you for a while that you sound like your mom. Your voice is similar but lower, lighter. I thought you might want to know.”

“I sound like Mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Sarah and Derek told me I sound kinda androgynous.”

“Your voice is normal. It’s lovely.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A
t five in the morning, he turned on the lamp, put a cup of coffee on the nightstand and tossed something on the bed.

“Time to get up, beautiful. It’s dawn patrol and we’re lookin’ for glass.”

“No patrol. I gotta drive to Austin in four hours to roast turkeys.”

“And I gotta fly to Ireland in five.” He tickled my tummy. “You wanna go surfin’. Yeah you do.”

I sat up and looked at the item on the covers. “What’s that?”

“Wetsuit. Water temp’s dropped. It’s time to learn the all-powerful bottom turn. At Laces. You’re ready. It’s on!”

“Dude, don’t be buying me stuff. I can buy my own stuff!”

I got a whopping thirty minutes to drink coffee, curse him, and don the wetsuit, the neoprene penguin costume taking fifteen minutes of pure hell to get on.

Conditions were sketchy. The sets were inconsistent with humongous death waves coming out of nowhere—smashy poundy. There were also jellyfish up and down the shoreline, freaking me to no end. I spent the next two hours eating it because bottom turns are impossible to do. It was a brutally frustrating session but I endured.

I was repaid for my trial by watching him change out of his wetsuit. He easily unzipped the back, removed his arms, and slid the top half down to a little below his hips.

I handed him my comb. “You know, I never asked to learn how to surf.”

He untangled my hair with his palms and pulled out bits of seaweed. “You’ll thank me someday.”

He secured a towel around his waist and the rest of his wetsuit came off.
I’m thanking you right now, gorgeous.

An hour later, he put my bags in my car for my trip to Austin. “You’re awfully serious.”

“Derek’s mom’s cancer is rare. The survival rate is low.” I bit my lip. “I know I’m supposed to pretend like you never healed my hand but is there anything you can do for Derek’s mom in the near future? I just love her so much.”

His posture became erect. “It’s like I said, there’re limits to my abilities. Even Donovan doesn’t have what it takes to cure a disease like that. I’m sorry.”

“I guess I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“No, you should ask. I wish I could help her.” He took my hand, the spark making his eyes light which made me smile. “So you’re gonna be pretty busy all weekend?”

“Booked solid. Sarah and I have tons of catching up to do, my cousins’ll be there—”

“So you won’t be alone?”

“I doubt it. We’ve got ten people staying in a three-bedroom house.”

“I want you to promise me that you won’t be alone. You won’t run alone, go out alone. Promise me.”

My head came back an inch. “Why?”

“’Cause I’m not asking a lot.”

“You’re not serious.”

He swung our hands. “Let me put it this way: I’d rather you be with Joshua nonstop for the next three days than be alone for fifteen minutes.”

“No thank you.”

“Don’t be alone.”

“Don’t worry.”

His head dropped and he gave me a mind-numbing kiss. “I love you. See ya Tuesday night. And fill up your tank halfway to Austin.”

The Thanksgiving spread Mom and I made was too awesome for words. And while the turkeys were in the oven, I confessed to her that Jericho and I had been dating. She put her hand to her heart upon hearing the news, was terribly pleased that I finally had a love interest. Otherwise the day was pretty standard: twenty members of the Edwards clan plus Derek’s family laughed, talked, and ate while my Great Aunt Ruth choked on sweet potatoes and my brother and I kicked each other under the table.

I felt my connection to Jericho the entire time.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

D
ecember was gray clouds, drizzle, and yucky fog. But some days the wind was a force, made me feel so alive.

The house was too quiet and as I suspected, he was on the beach. In his left hand he created a dazzling sphere of blue light as big as a basketball. In one fast motion, his free arm came across his body and his hand slashed through the globe’s center. The light transformed into a thin wave that radiated toward the horizon, flying fast and disappearing. Astounded, I dropped my notebook and perched on a chair. He sat facing the water with his elbows on his knees, his fingers knotted with his palms turned outward. My vision fluctuated between him and my recipes until he came up the steps.

“What was that?”

He sank into a chair. “What?”

“Looked like a ball of blue energy that turned into a sonic wave.” I didn’t look up from my writing. “You’re no better at the dumb blonde thing than I am.”

“Please stop watching me.”

“You first, buddy. What was that?”

“It’s like radar.”

“What kind of radar? The kind that puts a pleat in your forehead that you get when you’re concerned, like right now.”

He closed my notebook and took my pencil. “I’m worried, very worried about something, but you can help me. I need to ask a favor.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

He lowered his head and looked me in the eye. “Promise me that if I ever tell you to go or to run, you won’t ask questions, you won’t argue, you’ll immediately leave for your mom’s or Derek’s or Sarah’s, anywhere far from here.”

“But then I’d be alone. It’s contradictory to your prior request.”

“Not under certain circumstances.”