Undertow (29 page)
Authors: Amber Lynn Natusch
“But you love your job. You'll hate me for making you give it up.”
“You haven't made me do anything. I love the water. I love fishing. The Bering Sea isn't the only place in the world where I can have both. And I certainly don't want to be there if you're never going to be there with me.”
“You mean that, don't you?” I said, my tears slowing once I realized that he was dead serious. “You're not messing with me . . . ”
“I never have and I never will, Aesa. I'm not an asshole. We established that a long time ago. I'm a
man
. . . a man who wants
you
.”
“Even after everything I did,” I asked softly, “you would still want me? Trust me?”
Through all his intensity, I could see my words bring a slight twinkle to his eyes.
“Well, I might put you on a short leash for a while, or maybe get you one of those ankle monitors that the prison system is so deeply fond of, but—”
I cut off his words with crushing embrace, my arms wound so tightly around his neck that he wouldn't have been able to pry me off if he'd tried. Thankfully he didn't want to.
“I love you,” I cried, burying my face in his neck. “And I'm so sorry. I thought . . . I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“I know that, Aesa. It's the only reason I'm here,” he whispered, kissing the side of my head lightly while he cupped it in his hand. “I know how this brain of yours works, remember? I knew why you did what you did, I just couldn't believe that you'd actually done it in the first place. We're going to have to work on those default responses of yours.”
“Agreed,” I chimed in, all too willing to concede to whatever terms he wanted to set. “But you're still going to stay?”
“Well, I'd better since I start work tomorrow morning,” he teased, allowing me to continue to cling to his body. It felt so strong and certain under my grip that it inspired a certainty of my own. He wasn't going to leave me. Not then, not ever. He truly was a man.
“I guess you should go home and get some sleep then,” I suggested, pulling away from him just enough to see his eyes that I loved so much.
“Well, lucky for me my things are already packed up and ready to find a new home,” he said, pulling me closer again. “Are you making me an offer I can't refuse?”
“It sure seems like it,” I replied playfully.
Before we could iron out the details, we were rudely interrupted.
“So,” Viggy barked from far behind us, startling us both. We simultaneously looked over to find half the bar in the street watching us make up. “Looks like you two are going to be shackin' up.” They all roared at his mocking observation. It brought wide smiles to both of our faces.
“I guess sailors are gossipy old women no matter where you live,” I said to Decker, leaning my forehead against his. “Let's really give them something to gawk at, shall we?”
“As long as you aren't too embarrassed,” he joked, pulling my lips to his gently. He kissed me like he had the first time, when we stood out on the docks of Dutch Harbor as my father and the others looked on. Just like that night, I knew in my heart that my father was still looking on and smiling.
And I couldn't help but smile too.
When the cheering behind us died down, I climbed off of Decker and gave them a curtsy, playing into their childish behavior as I would have my uncles' back at Jimmy's.
“Let's go,” Decker whispered in my ear. “I think we have a little lost time to make up for, don't you?” I looked up to see him smiling at me mischievously. He shrugged when I gave him a questioning look. “What can I say, Aesa? I told you I'm a man, and this man has been at sea for weeks worrying about the woman he loves. I need an outlet for all of those feelings.”
Giving him a wink, I pushed past him quickly, fumbling to get the car door open. When he realized why I was so enthusiastic, he was in the passenger side at the drop of a dime, smiling at me with wild eyes.
“You're not the only one with a few things to get out,” I told him as I peeled out of my parking spot, thinking of all the ways we were going to avoid sleeping that night.
I welcomed every one of them.
35
“I think this is the last one,” Decker called to me, carrying a box through the front door of my father's house.
“Great,” I replied with a smile, watching him walk past me to the moving truck.
We had started the task of packing it up two days earlier, right after the official burial ceremony for my father. We waited until the end of Opilio season so that all his friends could attend. It was cold and windy, but the sun managed to find a break in the clouds long enough for his brief service to be given. It was exactly what he would have wanted.
While the others had gone back to
The Albatross
to celebrate my father's life, Decker and I went to my childhood home to sort through everything that had been amassed over his lifetime and mine. We laughed at old photos and watched ancient VHS videos that forced me to remember that not all had been bad for me as a kid; I had just chosen to see it that way at some point. I packed up those happy memories carefully so I could relive them time and time again. That was the childhood I wanted to reacquaint myself with.
That was the childhood I wanted to remember.
With my past neatly packed away, I looked over at my future—Decker. He smiled at me, catching me as I watched him simply move. There was something so elegant about him. We were getting used to our new lives on the East Coast: he quickly catching on to life on the Atlantic and I slowly assimilating to a life revolving around trust and love. It was still very unfamiliar, but I adored it all the same. If I couldn't trust Decker, then I would never trust anyone. It was make or break for me, and I was making it. We both were.
“Should I lock it up?” he asked, looking down at me from the front steps.
I nodded my head.
With the house being passed down to me upon my father's death, I hadn't known what to do with it. The thought of just selling it didn't appeal to me, but I couldn't keep it. That chapter of my life was over. There was nothing for me in that sleepy little crabbing town any longer. When Robbie had expressed interest in buying it to rent out to sailors, I was happy to let him have it. Dad would have approved.
“I think that's everything,” he said softly, coming to wrap his arms around my waist. “Is there anything else we need to do before we head out?”
I leaned against him, absorbing the strength he so naturally exuded.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I need to go say goodbye.”
“To who?” he asked curiously, knowing that we had seen everyone at my father's service and said goodbye to them then.
I sighed heavily, leaning more of my weight against him.
“To what haunts me,” I explained. “I need to see it one more time.”
Without a word, he ushered me to the car, leaving the moving van there for Robbie to pick up later and take down to the ferry for loading. He drove through town, leaving me alone with my thoughts as they ran rampant through my mind. Somehow, he always knew what I needed. When we arrived along the cliffs high above the sea, he parked the car, letting me get out on my own to walk the short distance to the edge. His absence was notable, but I needed to face my fears on my own. He seemed to know that too.
I watched the water lap at the rocks far below me. The sound was lulling and peaceful, and, for once, I felt that peace go through me. I was letting go of my past, my fears, and my blame. Decker was right; I could never move forward until I stopped looking back.
“Goodbye,” I said softly, staring out at the vast sea before me. “I love you both.”
Then I turned my back on what had so long been the bane of my existence.
My future was what mattered, and as he came out of the car to meet me, I smiled, realizing that, for all the wisdom I had long thought my father lacked, he was so right about at least one thing—Decker. Decker was the one with whom I would weather all the stormy seas life had planned for us. Good or bad, he was the one I chose.
And I would never let him go.
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Acknowledgments
I always have a list of people to thank. My amazing “team” of betas, proofers, and middle-of-the-day-breakdown-mediators, all of whom keep me relatively sane during the writing process and provide valuable feedback so that I can put the best possible novel out. Virginia, Eryn, Kristy, Shannon, and Jen, you guys are the best.
My editor, Jen Ryan, is the cat's meow when it comes to helping me craft the story I want to tell and forcing me to dig deeper, pushing me to improve as a writer. You, too, are the best.
For this novel, I had the honor of also having colleagues and bloggers assist me. Some read my beta copy and provided my with feedback. Others helped educate me on the genre. A couple helped put together a blog tour, marketing photos, and teaser posts for me, expecting nothing in return. It's amazing to have people in your life who support you so much that they drop what they're doing to lend a hand. Gestures like that are rare and often under-appreciated, but not in my world. To Madeline Sheehan, Shannon Morton, Samantha Towle, Amy Bartol, Jena Gregoire, Vilma Gonzalez, Cristina Suarez-Munoz, and Megan Ward O'Connell, thank you guys for just being awesome people. You have no idea just how much you've helped me.
About the Author
If you’re dying to know more about me, allow me to put you at ease. I’m a sharp-tongued, sarcastic cancer, who loves vegetable smoothies, winter storms, and the word portfolio. I should NEVER be caffeinated, and require at least eight hours of sleep to even resemble a human being. At thirty-four, I just now feel like I can keep a straight face while saying the word “rectum” (which is actually a huge lie because I just laughed out loud while reading this to my husband). I live with my iPod firmly affixed to my body, drive too fast, and laugh/cry at inappropriate times.
I'm petrified of clowns, open bodies of water, and New Hampshire's state motto (Live free or die...really?). I love to dance in public places not meant for dancing, and I'm obsessed with Neil Diamond.
I still own the teddy bear I loved as a child, hate basements, and think that something nefarious might be living under my bed (and i'm not talking about evil dust bunnies, though i'm sure there are some there).
I hate loud talkers in airports (especially business men on the phone), socks with sandals, and the use of the word “irregardless”.
I'm also a recovering potty mouth.
I'm an organic-eating Canadian who enjoys a good conspiracy theory every now and again. Cotton candy disturbs me on myriad levels as does the wearing of camouflage outside of hunting season. If I could know the answer to one of history's great mysteries it would be who shot JFK (wandering bullet my ass), and when I grow up, I want to be my Grandma Remple. She totally rocked.
This one is dedicated to my bizarre fears and irrational convictions...
I firmly believe that we all know someone who has killed someone else. If you think I'm wrong, do some serious digging into those around you. I guarantee you'll find my statement to be correct.
Every time we renovate something in my 100 year old house, I'm convinced that we're going to find a dead body in the wall.
I still hate walking alongside my bed in the dark for fear that my ankles will be snatched by something unspeakable. That goes for getting in my car at night too.
I don't do woodsy, forest areas at night, or corn fields at ANY time. Did you see Children of the Corn? Malichi... (*shudders).
I would rather run in the city at night than a rural area. I like to know exactly what types of things could possibly attack me and my imagination seems to go less crazy.
Most importantly of all, I am firmly convinced that if I squeeze my eyes tight enough and burrow under the covers deep enough, I can't be harmed by anything that goes bump in the night.
More by Amber Lynn Natusch
The Caged Series
CAGED
HAUNTED
FRAMED
SCARRED
FRACTURED
TARNISHED*
STRAYED
CONCEALED*
BETRAYED
(* novellas)