On Little Wings Read online

  I yelled a wordless cry and smacked my hand against my mouth. I’d felt that water in the heat of the summer day and even then it threatened to curl the skin off my bones. He’d kill himself. I stood, trying to decide whether to panic, when his head bobbed back above the water and his arm flew out in a clean, powerful stroke. The light on the water broke and bobbed around him, glinting off his wet head as he cut through the lapping waves. My grandmother’s quilt dropped in a colorful heap as I fled the room, taking the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. Sarah’s bedroom door was closed so I snatched up my sandals and tiptoed on flying feet to the kitchen and turned the doorknob slow enough to avoid creaking. Charlie hopped up from his cushion in the corner of the kitchen and clicked over the hard floor to me. I opened the door wide, letting him race out so he wouldn’t bark when I left.

  And then I was running. Outrunning Charlie. Not stopping until I crested the ridge where I halted long enough to pull on my shoes. Charlie barked joyously at my hopping, running game but I clamped my fist around his muzzle and gave him a threatening, “Hush!” When I looked at the water again I saw Nathan striking back for shore. I watched his strong arms propel him through the blackness. He stepped back onto land just as I made it to the boulders.

  “Is sea salt therapeutic?” I called out.

  Nathan jumped and whipped around to me, his body dripping. “Excuse me?” He said, visibly shaken.

  “The sea salt. Because you said you couldn’t come tonight because you had a headache. And last night you weren’t feeling well enough. The night before that you were just tired. So I’m wondering if a sea bath is good for headaches? Fatigue?”

  “How did you know I was here?” he asked as he grabbed a towel and draped it over his shoulders.

  “I saw you from my window. Talk about someone who looks like they’re committing suicide!”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not.” He leaned his head over and shook it vigorously, clearing water from his ear. His eyes were so belligerent I almost missed the soft arch of worry that crossed his brow.

  “Good to know. But if you feel well enough to join the Polar Bear Club why didn’t you come to lines?” I shuddered in the cool of the night as the wind hit my bare shoulders. I could only imagine how icy Nathan felt.

  His lips shook from the cold as he answered, “I don’t know.”

  “Neither of us is stupid enough to let that slide,” I objected.

  “Sometimes I just don’t feel like doing it. It’s not a requirement, you know.” He stretched his t-shirt back over his head, wet splotches appearing as the water on his skin soaked through.

  “You’re doing the Mr. Hyde thing,” I said. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me. I don’t know why you won’t even talk to me for three days. I thought we were friends and I’ll be leaving anytime now . . .”

  “Exactly!” Nathan interrupted. “You’re leaving. You don’t live here. You don’t belong here. Why do you care?” On each syllable of why do you care he pounded his towel into a smaller ball until it was a wet lump in his hand.

  “You’ll wake somebody,” I hissed, stepping forward and pushing a warning hand on his cold arm. I knew the houses were too far for anyone to overhear, but the night felt so quiet. In the air I sensed watching eyes. After that touch I looked up into his unreadable face. Whatever I imagined I would feel standing in the moonlight, holding his wet arm, I was wrong. There was no lust trailing its fiery, forked tail through my body – only anger tinged with a determination to stand toe to toe with his temper. I would not be dismissed. I released his arm, but refused to step away. Pointing to the sand beneath my feet, I said, “I might not live here, but I belong here. Right here.” My arm flew out toward Shelter Cove. “My great grandfather built that second story. My grandparents are buried in this town. This is as much mine as it is yours.” My voice calmed. “I just didn’t know it until now.”

  “Really?” His defiant word was tempered with an unexpected softness.

  “Yes, really,” I gulped on my words.

  “And when you leave?”

  My heart paused before resuming its fluid beats. “I can’t help that, Nathan. But wasting time worrying about time doesn’t make any sense.”

  “There are a lot of ways to waste time,” he ran his fingers through his sandy hair, dropping water on his shoulders.

  “Like being mad at your friends?”

  “Do you want to be friends, Jennifer?” He forgot to be flippant halfway through his sentence.

  No. Not friends. Not just friends. My brain beat the words against my eyes like Morse code, hoping he could see the flashing message as he studied me intently.

  “Yes.” I answered weakly.

  “Really?”

  No. “Yes.”

  His cold, calloused hands closed around my upper arms and he leaned closer. For a breathless moment I knew he would kiss me, but I couldn’t close my eyes. Couldn’t even remember that I had eyes to close. “Then I’m sorry I upset you,” he answered. He studied my expression, questions running across his face. I can only guess that he saw it - some remnant of how I truly felt. He released me, not realizing how close my legs were to collapsing beneath me without his support. “I haven’t been a good friend. I’ll come back to lines tomorrow. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

  I fingered the damp spots where his hands encircled my arms and tried to understand what just happened. Was I supposed to say I didn’t want to be his friend? Would he have kissed me then? I fought for some way to amend my words, but my brain was slugging through the shock of his touch. Like being submerged in fast, black water. Even I didn’t know where I would finally surface.

  He gathered his shoes to leave and I groped for anything neutral, anything easy, to say. “You’ve been gone for days. I didn’t get to tell you that I … I saw the Jacks again today. And I saw Montague Muck.”

  “What?” Nathan asked, confused by the turn.

  “I went into town today with Claude. You weren’t at lines so I couldn’t tell you.

  Nathan’s shoulders relaxed. I imagined him taking hold of this new strain of conversation like a shining life line flung over choppy water. “What did you think of Monty? Did He have that dog with him?” he asked, trying to smile but not quite able.

  “Is it a dog?” I laughed, but my laughter shook, fighting against the fast thrumming of my heart. “Because I have never seen anything like that. What breed is it?”

  “Mutt.” His eyebrows flicked down in concern as if he were asking himself if we really made it past the landmines so easily. “Love of his life.”

  “Yeah, old men love weird things around here,” I mused.

  “That’s why I need to get out before I’m old. I might end up starry eyed over a mule or something.” He leaned against the boulders and I took a seat at his feet, feeling the tension sink into the cool sand.

  “There are no mules around here,” I bantered back. “I think you might start a torrid affair with a sea bass.”

  “You wouldn’t know a sea bass from a swordfish, landlover.” He slid down and took a seat beside me.

  “Welcome back, Dr. Jekyll,” I said with a gentle smile. Before he could get too self-conscious I dropped the subject and quizzed him on another point pricking my curiosity. “How often do you enjoy a nice evening swim like this?”

  “Once in a while. When I’m stressed. You can’t worry about anything else after you jump in.” His arms rippled in a one big shiver, grazing my shoulder. Some beads of water still clung to the hair on his legs.

  “Yeah, well, trying not to die of hypothermia can kind of bring things into perspective. But you should go with a partner. It’s not safe.”

  Nathan’s smirked and rolled his eyes. “Are you volunteering?”

  My laugh came out too loud in the quiet night. “Not on your life!”

  “There you go. And a partner would negate the being-alone-when-you’re-stressed objective.” We both looked back at the dark water.

>   “What are you so stressed about lately? Claude?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. A little of everything.” He yanked the towel tighter around his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter.” A fast pause before he said, “Sorry I yelled at you. You surprised me.”

  “Ambushed you.”

  “Kind of.”

  “At least you didn’t slip and fall in! If you ever come to Nebraska I hope you’re scared of cows and fall in a mud puddle. Then we’ll be even.” Only after I said that did I realize that he had no reason to come.

  “You found my secret. Terrified of bovines.” His lips pulled up on one side into an amused grin.

  “Ah, so that’s your kryptonite, huh?” As I sat there I realized that my stomach was not sinking or soaring. My skin didn’t crawl or tingle or flame. I smiled at him happily, grateful for the easiness of the moment.

  Before I could blink or think or move he leaned over and rested his lips lightly against mine. I’ve tried so many times to remember exactly what I thought in that moment, but I can’t recall a single organized concept in my mind. A light, victorious feeling sprung up at my lips and washed over the rest of me. In the fastest instant it was over and I leaned back with a surprised smile.

  The calm grin on Nathan’s mouth melted into a straight line and his eyes narrowed in a mixture of confusion and regret. “I’m freezing. I better get inside.” He jumped up. I couldn’t stand yet. The warm, triumphant feeling was still swooping up to my chest and meeting the icy fear that Nathan’s face triggered in my mind. Like a storm front under my ribs. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorry.” His eyebrows inched up in a silent plea and he slipped away, fast and quiet.

  His ‘sorry’ had been so gentle, so soft that I couldn’t tell if he meant ‘sorry for leaving so fast’ or ‘sorry for kissing you.’ My churning emotions collided and a cold, dousing drizzle in my chest extinguished the light of his kiss. I found myself, once again, abandoned to the moon’s indifference.

  But this time I knew that Nathan felt something for me. And despite the clammy, sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, my mind skirted around the dark hole that his exit left. Tonight, when I got back to my bed, I had a kiss to remember. And a promise that he would come back tomorrow. It was enough. For now.

  CHAPTER 32

  It took hours to convince myself to go to sleep. I lay in bed, picturing him across the cove, his head sunken into a lumpy pillow, his eyes staring up at the dark ceiling just like mine. I hoped he had the same, secret smile that tugged at my lips. I’d never considered sneaking out in my life, but it crossed and recrossed my mind. If I could just lean up against his house. I would sit there, my back to the wall where he slept, only wood and plaster between us. Something about touching the rough shingles of his home seemed very important, almost as important as touching him. Instead of stealing back into the night, I revisited the beach in my mind, watching the kiss. I tried to see it from different angles. I tried putting my arms around his neck. I tried closing my eyes. I tried to make up words for him to say, but I always scratched those out. My words didn’t work on him. I tried putting his hand in my hair. That was the best one. A finger trailing right behind my ear. Then I made him lean back and smile. And I fell asleep.

  The next day dawned warm, and to my relief, busy. Sarah wanted to take me out on a boat and we spent the morning packing food and sunscreen and bottled water, which occupied my anxious mind. Anything that sped up the daylight hours was a blessing to me. I asked whose boat we were going on and she told me that Will’s father, Jake, said we could tag along.

  “But that’s a working boat,” I protested. “Are we going to catch things?”

  “Heaven forbid!” Sarah teased. “We’ll just get to sit up top and watch. Let the men slave away while we eat bon bons.”

  “So is Claude coming?”

  “Hah! Not in this lifetime!” She said. “Claude hates boats. Won’t step foot on one.”

  “Why?” I asked. That was like someone in Nebraska being repulsed by tractors.

  “No clue. She has no clue. She can’t remember anything bad ever happening on a boat. They still terrify her.”

  “You made me sound weird for not liking seafood. And I’ve never lived here!”

  “True. There is someone weirder than you. That’s got to feel good.” Sarah winked over the bulging canvas backpack that she zipped closed. “Let’s go.”

  Once we made it to town, we had to pass the Jacks before we could get onto the docks. “They sort of sit there like gatekeepers,” I whispered to Sarah and nodded toward their position right at the top of the ramp that led to the docks.

  “Hah! Abandon hope all ye who enter here! We should scribe that on their bench!”

  “How do, girls? Looking fresh and lovely today,” Pete asked with a broad smile.

  “Playing the polite card today, Pete? I like that one. You almost pull it off.”

  “Now, Sarah, I’m hurt. Nothing stings like an insult from a pretty girl.” His eyes twinkled over his frown.

  “I forgot how very tender you boys are,” Sarah jeered. “Like little old lambs.”

  “Nowt but the lambs of God,” Russ said with an angelic face.

  “Oh, please,” Sarah laughed. “More like the lost sheep. But we can’t chat today. Jake’s taking us out on his boat. Jennifer’s maiden voyage.”

  Glenn spat on the ground in contempt. “That warehouse on water? You’re taking her out on that? That amounts to sin, is what! Sin!”

  “Just got to show her the rest, Glenn. Then one of these days you can show her the best. She’ll appreciate The Misses more if she has something to compare her to,” Sarah’s soothing voice unruffled his furrowed brow. He grumbled in reluctant agreement. “And,” Sarah continued in a tempter’s tone, “If she’s still here for Independence Day you can give her a show. Jake never has anything much better than bottle rockets.”

  “They got nothin’ on us, do they boys?” Glenn perked up right away.

  “I ordered some rockets straight from Thailand this year. Not even approved for use in America. Smuggled them in from Ebay,” Pete bragged.

  “That’s … disturbing,” Sarah answered and sighed a ‘live and let live’ kind of sound. “We’ll see you when we get back.”

  “If that cheap heap gets you back,” Glenn mumbled. Sarah rolled her eyes and hustled me past.

  “What’s all the talk about rockets?” I asked as we stepped onto the docks.

  “Fourth of July is a big deal here. All the fishermen push off from shore and shoot fireworks off their boats. It makes for a great show. If you’re still here, you’ll love it. Your mom used to lose her head over the fireworks. She would have eaten spaghetti and lentils all year just to save money for my dad’s rockets. His show was usually pretty good.”

  She smiled at the memory of her father and I remembered the feeling of being close to him on the living room stairs.

  Sarah raised her hand and let out a piercing whistle that probably carried for a mile. All heads turned but she only waved at Jake’s boat.

  “How did you do that?” I asked.

  “Talented tongue,” is all she said as the fishermen went back to their work.

  “We’re ready for you, Sarah,” a man shouted.

  “Thanks, Jake. This is my niece, Jennifer.” Jake didn’t resemble Will much at all. He was average height, average girth and more handsome in a very ordinary way.

  “Come on up, Jennifer,” he said extending his hand and pulling me aboard. “I knew your mom. Went to school together. Had a little crush on her. But there were only twenty girls in the school so we all had little crushes on everybody. Harvey was …”

  Sarah bumped purposefully into his arm and turned so he could see her face and I couldn’t. Jake cleared his throat. “So we’re going to show you around the water, today?” he said in an overly bright tone. “I’ll go start her up. You know Will, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, waving to Will who appeared from the inside compartment.
I narrowed my eyes at Sarah. “What were you saying about Harvey?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. Just kid stuff,” Jake said as he edged away from us. Sarah avoided looking at me while she adjusted her sandals. The boat pulled out slowly and for the next four hours I divided my time between leaning against the rails to experience the fluid speed of the boat slicing through the water and watching from the deck as Will and his father worked their nets. Readied their nets. Cleaned their nets. Positioned their nets. Cursed their nets. Rarely did they use their nets, but they always seemed to have them in their hands for one reason or another. None of the other deckhands were on board so the two of them worked as the entire team, shouting, complaining, laughing. And all the while the salty wind scooped up the sea spray and swept it across our faces and clothes.

  Will’s gangly body transformed with a net in his hand. The long, wiry muscles in his arms flexed like ropes, extensions of his ropes he held. When the wench suddenly unlocked and the wheel started a furious, metal spin, Will jumped in fearlessly, catching the bludgeoning handle like he was bringing down a wild animal with his bare hands. After I straightened up from my frightened cringe I looked at him with a new respect. An ugly bruise rose up on his forearm, but the winch was once more locked and subdued. They let me lower a net and try trawling the bottom. My first attempt brought up a few slimy little fishes, but on my second try a large struggling crab appeared in the net.

  “I got one!” I screamed and jumped away from it.

  Will put his hand on my arm. “Come on. You can do it. I’ll help you.” He put the net back in my hand and extracted the crab, holding its claws shut in his strong fingers. “See. You want to hold it?”