The Calling (34 page)

“I figured after the temper tantrum you threw on the beach, your locks would’ve been changed.” He set the plates on the table and headed to the fridge. “Since they weren’t, I took that as an invitation to come in.”

Justin popped the tops off the beers before setting them next to the plates. “I told you to go back to Galveston where you belong. What part of ‘get lost’ didn’t you understand?”

“The part where I’m grumpy when I can’t sleep.” Mitch sighed deeply as he set butter and sour cream on the table. “We never finished our conversation.”

They both sat down and immediately cut into their steaks. Justin took a bite, savoring the hint of charcoal and salt. Maybe he could forgive his dad for dropping in unannounced, just this once. “No one makes a steak like you.”

“It’s a gift.” His dad studied him long and hard. “You look like hell.”

“That’s what happens when the woman you want to marry can’t get far enough away from you.”

“Mandy left?”

“She’s in Colorado.”

“She coming back?”

“Yeah, but not for me.”

Mitch chewed thoughtfully. “I liked that girl.”

“So did I.” Justin grabbed the top of the wrapped potato. The foil burned his fingertips, and he winced, quickly pressing them against his cold beer for relief.

“Those potatoes are hot,” his dad said.

“Thanks for warning me.”

“You’re a wise-ass.”

“I’ve been called worse.” He tilted his head. “Why are you here, Pops?”

“Well, Mandy asked me—”

“I don’t want to talk about Mandy,” Justin said, a little harsher than he’d intended.

“Good. I ain’t come here to chat about your woman woes.” He pointed his steak knife at Justin. “Don’t interrupt me ’til I’m done.”

“Sure, Pops.”

“Mandy said if I wanted to fix this…” He pointed the knife at himself, then back at Justin. ”We needed to have a heart to heart.” He set his silverware down before continuing. “Cecelia was an accident.”

“No kidding. We were ten years apart in age.”

His dad’s eyes narrowed.

“Keepin’ quiet.” Justin got busy chewing.

“Your mom and I wanted one kid, and that was it. Her, because she didn’t like bein’ pregnant, and me, because I wanted to get back to the sea. I felt dead when I wasn’t on a boat. But when you were born, I quit commercial fishin’. Your mom never believed in the Calling, and I wasn’t going to risk my son’s life.

“But I told your mom that when you turned ten, I was headin’ back out. That was old enough for you to be able to care for yourself if the Calling happened while I was away. Then your mom got pregnant again, but I wasn’t about to spend another ten years on dry land.”

“Did you ever think mom got pregnant on purpose because she thought another baby would keep you around?”

His dad’s brow furrowed. “It crossed my mind a time or two.”

“Yet, you left her anyway… for the sea.”

“I know better than anyone that livin’ a selfish life leads to misery. I’m tryin’ to change.”

“Good for you, Pops,” he said sarcastically.

His dad shrugged. “Anyway, I was so shortsighted, I didn’t think about the consequences of leaving you in charge of Cecelia’s life. For Christ’s sake, you were ten years old. You might’ve been able to care for yourself, but Cecelia, too?”

“A ten-year-old can dunk a baby in the ocean.”

“Not with a mom as stubborn as yours. You get that from her, you know, the stubborn streak.”

“I think it comes from both sides.”

His dad pursed his lips. “Tsk, tsk.”

“What’s the purpose of this little talk, Pops?”

His dad fell quiet, staring toward the pool of juices gathering at the bottom of his plate. When he finally looked up, the sadness in his eyes made Justin chill down to his core, as if he were standing on an iceberg in the middle of the arctic. “Cecelia’s death was my fault. Your mom’s grief was my fault. Everything was my fault and, every time I looked at you, I was reminded of that. I sent you to live with your grandmother, and then your aunt, because I couldn’t live with the shame. I shouldn’t have done that to you. For the last two decades, I thought it was better for everyone if I disappeared, but it wasn’t better. For me, for you, or for your mother.”

Justin leaned back in his chair and pressed his palms flat on the table. “You didn’t blame me?” All those years he’d seen the pain in his father’s eyes as disappointment. He’d thought his dad abandoned him for failing, for killing his daughter, for sending his wife into madness.

But it’d been guilt that drove his father away.

He should have been furious that Pops was just now telling him. Instead, he felt like Atlas, with the weight of the world being lifted off his shoulders. “You don’t blame me,” he said again, as if the words were an antidote to every insurmountable obstacle he’d ever encountered.

“I ain’t never blamed you.”

“But you ran away from me, just like Mandy’s doing now.”

“Son, I’m going to give you a piece of advice because you’re a Seward, and we’re all the same. If you don’t go get that little blond back, you’re gonna spend the rest of your life pining after her. I can tell you that from experience.”

Justin looked at Pops. His dad had never divorced his mother, never dated, never even thought of another woman that he knew of. He studied Mitch’s calloused hands, his strong nose, and his tanned, weathered skin. His dad slept alone every night, ate his meals quietly by himself. When he came home after a long day on the boat, no one cared how his day had fared. All he had was his job and the pleasure the ocean gave him. From the sadness in his face, it wasn’t enough.

With a tinge of grief, Justin realized that the man sitting across from him was his future if he didn’t find a way to get Mandy back.

Chapter 26

Mandy woke with a start, sweat beading on her face and her gut twisting with nausea. She threw off the covers and jumped from the bed, then she froze. In the dark, she couldn’t tell which door was for the closet and which led to the hall. She clamped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes darted around, searching furiously for the trashcan. Except, she then remembered Lori’s guest bedroom didn’t have one.
Darn, Lori!

Her stomach lurched. Desperately, she fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. Through half-closed eyes, she spotted the hall door, tore it open, and raced toward the bathroom. Just before she reached the toilet, she doubled over, a cramp wringing her stomach, and threw up on the white tile floor.

Perfect
. She was retching all over her best friend’s new apartment. What a way to say, “Thanks for having me!”

She groaned as she grabbed a towel from the rack and mopped up her accident. At least her stomach had settled.

Mandy straightened mid-thought as a pulse of energy emanated from her stomach, the tingling sensation dancing down to her pelvis then back up. She placed her hand over her bellybutton, thinking she’d be able to feel the vibration in her palm, but the energy stayed localized, no trace of it pulsating through her hand. For several seconds, the shuddering continued, and then, just like her wave of nausea, the energy disappeared.

What the heck was that?

She kneeled on the floor, trying to make sense of the nausea, the vibrations, and the woozy head.
Altitude sickness
. She had no other explanation, so she latched onto that one like a barnacle to a ship. Altitude sickness took acclimatizing to overcome. By the time they went skiing in two days, she’d be fine. Lori worked the next day, so she could spend the day resting if she still felt ill.

Lori poked her head into the bathroom, her brow furrowed and her nose sniffing the air like a hound dog. “You don’t look so good.”

“Got sick,” Mandy said, her voice a tired whisper.

“I thought I smelled something bad. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine. Same thing happened earlier this week at Justin’s house. It came and went in minutes.”

Lori looked down at the dirty towel in Mandy’s hands. Her lower lip curled up in disgust. “Just throw it in the bathtub. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Mandy chucked the towel and rested her cheek against the bathtub rim. “Sorry, Lori.”

“I’m sorry you’re sick.” She cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Mandy shook her head. “I still have an IUD.”

“Those aren’t foolproof.”

“They’re pretty close.” Mandy looked up at Lori’s worried expression. “You should go back to bed. I don’t want you taking care of preemies while you’re exhausted.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Positive.”

Lori yawned and turned to leave. Right before she stepped out of the bathroom, she glanced over her shoulder. “Come get me if you need anything.”

Mandy nodded, pushed herself off the floor, and headed to bed, too. No sooner had she cuddled under the flannel sheets, than a tingle traveled slowly up her spine to the tip of her head, then back down, the wave gently rolling over her until it reached her toes. With it came a burning in the back of her throat as if she were wandering a desert, sun beating down on her, with no water to quench her thirst.

God, she felt parched.

She sighed. Sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon. She threw off the covers again and planted her feet on the floor. At least she knew which door to choose without turning on the light. She padded to the kitchen and opened all the wrong cabinets before finally finding a glass.

After drinking two cups of water, she was still as parched as a bleached bone. The dry Colorado air was doing strange things to her body. The problem had an easy fix, though. She’d buy Lori a humidifier, a gadget she wasn’t even sure they carried in Corpus with its year-round balmy weather.

She filled her glass one last time and headed back to bed. So much for sleep. If the pulses didn’t keep her up all night, the peeing would.

* * *

Justin woke to an eerie feeling rocking his core. He thrust his arms out, as if cradling a baby, and moaned when he realized his arms held nothing but air.

“Justin,” his dad’s voice whispered over his shoulder.

He tried to shake off the last remnants of sleep, but fatigue weighed down his body like the ocean depths crushing him. Disoriented and confused, he rolled on his side and bundled the comforter in his arms. A pulse of energy traveled from the tip of his head down to his toes. Even his hair felt as if it were vibrating.

The pulses tormenting him were racked with sorrow.
So familiar
, he thought in a half dream-like state. In his mind, he was transported to the Galveston beach where his sister and mother had passed. His mother lay motionless on the sand, waves washing her billowing white nightgown into plumes of cotton and lace. In her arms, she held Cecelia, a perfect sleeping cherub whose skin was gray with death.

“Justin, wake up.”

With a gasp, he bolted to a sitting position. His heart hammered, and sweat dripped down his face to sting his eyes.

His dad hovered over him with his mouth turned down at the corners. “Son, it’s just me.”

“Pops?”

“You wanna come with me to the beach?” his dad asked.

The Calling. It’s started
. Another wave of energy coursed through his body, filling his mind with images he was desperate to burn from his brain. Tears prickled his eyes. Christ, was he going to cry in front of his dad?
No way
.

He sucked in a deep breath, lay back down, and buried his head in his pillow. “I’m tired, Pops. I’ll get counted tomorrow.”

Mitch patted his son’s shoulder. “I just thought you might want company.”

Company was the last thing he wanted. “Tomorrow, Pops.”

His dad stood by his side for another minute, then straightened and left Justin’s room, closing the door behind him. Justin let out a gasp as a tear snaked down his cheek. “He doesn’t blame me,” he whispered. But it didn’t matter, because he still blamed himself.

* * *

Early the next morning, Justin sat on the beach staring toward the water. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and chilled his skin. Wondering how Mandy could stand the cold Colorado winter, he huddled deeper in his jacket. She was a Southern girl, born and bred. Colorado wasn’t for her, but maybe she liked that about it, that it was so different from this flat, humid place. Maybe it helped her forget him.

Another surge of energy came and went. The pulses were more a nuisance than anything else, but he knew that by midnight, they’d feel like a trowel ripping out his intestines. If he wanted to end them, all he had to do was stick his little toe in the water for a few seconds. The vibrations would leave him in peace.

Except… he wouldn’t do it because he kept asking the same question over and over again. What if he didn’t answer the Calling? What if he let his god turn him to saltwater as he had Cecelia? It would be a painful but easy way to end the ache in his heart.