The Kindred Soul of Nora Faye: The Tethered Soul Series, Book 3

by Laura C. Reden

  “OK. Well, we can go somewhere else if you want?”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m honestly just not hungry.” I picked up my fork and pushed my rice around on my plate. And when I felt Easton’s eyes grow with worry, I forced myself to eat the chicken.

  “Are you still mad at me about the skydiving? Is that what this is?” Easton asked.

  I looked at him sideways. “Do you honestly think I would starve myself because I was mad at you? What would that accomplish?” I asked.

  Easton nodded. “Good point.”

  “And yes. I am still mad at you,” I added.

  “Oh? How long is that going to last?” Easton asked. As if it were that simple. We had fought before, sure, but we had never been in a situation where time wasn’t fleeting, or the urgency of past memories wasn’t creeping out of the shadows and demanding answers. No, we had all the time in the world, and I knew who and what I was. I could simply hold this grudge forever . . . or not, I hadn’t decided. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Why don’t you show me how mad you are tonight?” Easton’s brow rose.

  “Nope. You’re cut off, remember.” I shrugged, looking away just as the women in coconut shells took center stage. Easton looked at them, frowning, and I couldn’t help but giggle. “How’s that for charm?” I asked. His eyes blazed back to me with a deep burning lust lit from within. I swallowed down a lump in my throat, determined to make him pay for not jumping with me earlier in the day. “No,” I said. My mouth suddenly dry.

  “No, what?” he asked.

  “No. I said no.” I looked away, feeling his eyes burrow into me. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why a smile spread across my lips, but for some reason, I was simply amused. His yearning for me. Me pretending to be strong. Because that’s all it was . . . make believe. Just because I was mad at him didn’t make me want him any less. He just didn’t need to know that part.

  Easton finished his dinner, and we ducked out early. The dancers had endless moves, and the show would continue for some time. But there was something romantic about sneaking away while most of the resort guests sat hypnotized by the flames thrown into the sky. Easton pulled my hand, and we ran across the rock paths covered by lush green archways and bountiful flowers. The further we fled from the dinner show, the quieter it became. And when the drums were a distant beat, Easton laid his lips on mine.

  He ran his hand up the nape of my neck, deepening the kiss. I all but forgot about what I had said to him back on the tarmac. His hands ran the length of my side before he pulled away, lowering his forehead to mine and taking in a breath. “Let’s go back to our room,” he suggested huskily. I didn’t need convincing. We took off, heading straight for our bungalow. And though the walk was long, the tension built with time. And when we made it back to our room, we had all but collapsed on the bed doing what lovers do best.

  My head swam, and the room spun as I worked to catch my breath. My skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “God, you’re right!” I grabbed my temples as the spinning slowed, and the room became still once again.

  “Always. But what about this time?” Easton asked, panting.

  I rolled onto my side and stared up at him as he lay on his back. His hair disheveled like he had been caught in a wind storm. Easton lifted his hand and brushed the hair off my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. “I don’t think this life could ever lose its magic,” I said.

  Easton smiled at me for a sweet but fleeting moment. Before I knew it, I had been swept up in his arms, and he was running straight for our patio. “Easton, no!” I screamed, clenching my arms around his neck. “No!” I wailed as he lept right off our dock, baring less than the fire dancers. The ocean splashed as we plummeted under water, and for a moment, the fear inside me seized up.

  I remembered most of my last life, though it had been blurry and the details lacking. But the one memory I relived all the time clearer than the day itself was the accident in which we drowned. I relived it in my sleep, in the shower, and most of all, I relived it when I was near large bodies of water. And plunging into the black ocean was a definite trigger. I fought fiercely, pushing Easton down and climbing up his back like a ladder to my survival. I breached the surface and gasped for air, hungry for the first time that night. I splashed about erratically.

  “Hey, hey!” Easton took ahold of me and swam to the ladder. I clung on for dear life. “Are you OK? What was that?” he asked, panting nearly as much as me.

  Feeling safer with the ladder in hand, I felt utterly stupid for the way I’d reacted. I nodded, focusing on the moon glistening over the dancing ripples of the water’s surface and tried to slow my breath. My instincts told me to get out of the water. Climb the ladder. Get on the dock. But I did no such thing. My legs kicked slowly as my heartbeat slowed. The water was warmer than I imagined it would be, and it felt weird against my skin without a swimsuit on. A tiny part of me almost enjoyed the freedom.

  “Come to me,” Easton said, floating a couple of feet away. I wanted to, but I wasn’t ready to let go of the ladder. “Nobody can see us,” he said.

  “It’s not that.” I searched the other bungalows for signs of life, anyway.

  “Is it the accident?” Easton asked softly.

  I didn’t have to answer. My silence confirmed it all. “Trust me,” he said, holding out a hand. I did. I trusted him. Not to jump out of a plane with me . . . But I trusted him with my heart and certainly with my safety. I placed my hand in his, and he pulled me to him. The warm water brushed past my bare body. “Turn around and float onto your back,” he said.

  “I can’t. I don’t float.”

  “Just take deep breaths. Fill your lungs and be still. I’ll do the rest.” Easton pulled on the nape of my neck, holding my face out of the water. My body rose to the surface, and I startled, kicking my legs and arms about. “Shhh. Just relax.” I did everything I could to do just that. I took the deep breaths, and I noticed that my body would sink a little when I exhaled. But with every inhale, it would rise again. After some time, I trusted that I wouldn’t sink to the ocean floor and history would not repeat itself. Eventually, I closed my eyes, and without my knowledge, Easton had let go. I felt free. Free of the trauma from drowning in the river and free of my worries of the future. The gentle rise and fall of my breath like a life raft in the moonlit ocean. I had been floating all by myself, and all I ever needed was the support of Easton to help me trust myself.

  Of course, it all came crashing down the second I opened my eyes to find him several feet away. But until that moment—when he had to help me back to the dock, and I tried to drown him all over again—it was nothing short of magic. It would be a moment I’d look back upon. An example of the many times in my life that I was too afraid to do something I could fully do all on my own.

  After my first real dip in the ocean ended, my stomach knotted with what I assumed was hunger for skipping most of my dinner. I placed my hand on my stomach, frowning. “I think I’m going to run to the gift shop and get a snack,” I said, toweling off.

  “Finally getting hungry?” Easton said as he ran the towel through his hair.

  “Yeah.”

  “Want me to come with you?” he asked.

  “No, that’s OK. I won’t be long,” I said, needing time to quiet my mind. Time to feel the water in my lungs and trust that I’m OK now. That I am OK. I slipped on my flip-flops and turned to smile at Easton before leaving.

  “Hey, Beck?” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “We can cross skinny dipping off your list.” Easton winked at me, and my smile grew. I hadn’t recalled the details of the list he spoke of, but it didn’t surprise me that skinny dipping was on it since I made the list pre-drowning. I took in a deep breath as I strolled down the dock. The ocean’s sultry brine in the air and the lapping of the water . . . I didn’t know if it would be enough three hundred years from now, but I knew Easton would be.

  I opened the gift shop door and walked inside
. Tiny goosebumps covered my arms as soon as the air conditioning hit my skin, and I rubbed my arms as I walked the isles. Nothing looked appetizing, but I settled on salty crackers and a ginger ale. As I waited in line behind a mother and her daughter, I couldn’t help but stare at the chubby curly-haired toddler. “Dis one?” she asked in a high-pitched tone.

  “Not that one,” the mother said.

  “Dis one?” The girl asked for a new candy bar.

  “Not that one. . .”

  “Dis one?” Each time she asked with the same renewed enthusiasm, and I couldn’t help but smile. The excitement in her eyes over each possible candy bar was nearly too much to handle, and I felt a flood of emotion crash into me like a rogue wave. A burn hit the back of my throat, and I wondered what had possibly come over me. The mother and daughter finished checking out, and the little girl never got her candy bar. She screamed as the mom carried her out. I frowned.

  “Hello. Is this all for you tonight?” the store clerk asked when I put my crackers and drink on the table.

  Had I been emotional over the wreckage? Was it that I had just taken a step in overcoming my fear of drowning? Or was it something even bigger than that? Had I been afraid my life would grow dull without the one thing in this world I knew I couldn’t have? I looked back to the clerk and then to the display behind her.

  “Um, just one more thing,” I said, listening to the girl’s cry fade away.

  “$22.99, please,” the clerk said.

  I took out my cash and paid. As I waited for my receipt, I looked back to the glass door and beyond into the night. The little girl was gone, and her cries all but distant. And at that moment, I had to wonder if my emotion came from the fear of never having a little girl of my own. Would my life be enough without it?

  Chapter 12

  The following day was a day of rest. Easton and I lounged on our dock for most of it as I didn’t feel well. I should have felt more relaxed as time slipped by, but I felt worse. My stomach hadn’t been the same since the buffet, and the crackers I bought at the gift shop did little to settle it. Today was our last full day on the island, and I was determined to make the best of it. My stomach churned, and my mouth watered upon rising in the morning, but I laced my shoes, anyway. I wouldn’t miss the waterfall if it were the last thing I did.

  When I caught a glance at my reflection in the mirror, I looked peckish. I took a couple of deep breaths through my mouth before dusting on some blush and bronzer. I didn’t want Easton to know that I was still ill. It was our honeymoon and the tail end of it, too. I wasn’t going to ruin any bit of it for either of us. I didn’t want to look back on this memorable trip three hundred years from now and wish I’d just sucked it up for the last day. A little indigestion would not slow me down. Indigestion . . . I kept calling it that.

  I packed a light backpack alongside Easton as we prepped for our hike to the Wabo Waterfall. It was the most beautiful waterfall on Taiseen Island and well known around the world. We would need to get a ride to the trailhead. Then it would be five miles up and five miles back. It should be easy enough. However, with the humidity and my newfound sensitive stomach, I was expecting a moderate to difficult hike ahead.

  “Are you bringing your trunks?” I asked as I shoved leftover crackers in my backpack. Easton motioned to his lower half. He was already wearing them. Black and blue stripes with a white drawstring. He had purchased them here on the island the day we arrived. “Right,” I said.

  “Are you alright? You seem a little off?” Easton asked.

  “I’m good. Just a little tired. Who knew vacationing could be so exhausting, right?” I smiled, and Easton wagged his brows, making me roll my eyes in response. I guess we hadn’t exactly taken it easy on the extracurricular activities. My cheeks heated.

  “How’s your stomach today?” Easton asked, zipping up his bag.

  “It’s great!” I said, hiding my pale face under makeup. He’d never know.

  “Yeah? Do you have your appetite back?”

  “Mmm…Yup!” My voice squeaked under the pressure of the lie.

  Easton sighed, “Oh good! I was beginning to think your cancer was returning or . . .” Easton stiffened as soon as it slipped from his mouth. Regret washed over his face as his brows pulled in. He avoided meeting my eye.

  “No. Never. Just some funky island chicken or something,” I said. I had remembered little about my cancer, and it was one topic I liked to stay away from. I had many unanswered questions, but I never dared to ask about them. Was I sad? Was my family heartbroken? Probably. I didn’t see how recalling such a difficult time in one of my lives would help me now. Burying the whole thing in the black void of my subconscious was most likely the best place for such memories. And for now, I was content with that. They could sit there for decades . . . centuries . . . Collecting dust for all I cared. As long as they didn’t come out from the shadows, I was a strong and capable new me.

  “You think you ate that chicken that was walking in circles on the beach the other day?” Easton asked.

  I laughed, “That’s the one! I know it.”

  Easton called for a ride to the mouth of the Wabo Waterfall Trail, and we waited in front of the resort for what seemed like a small eternity. Everything moved slowly on the island, and I both appreciated it and was driven mad by the same thing. Today though, I was driven mad. Maybe it was the muggy warm island air, or the sweat cultivating on my back and in between my chest . . . or maybe it was the slow churn of my stomach that made me impatient. Either way, I convinced myself that it would all be better as soon as I could sit in the air conditioning of the cab and rest for just a few minutes before our hike began. I tapped my foot with anticipation.

  When the cab pulled up, I had my doubts about feeling better. And when I tossed my backpack inside the old car and crawled in after it, I knew. The cab was like a sauna, and air conditioning was a luxury this little thing could not afford. I swallowed and took a deep breath. Both sweat and cigarette smoke marinated inside the cab and wafted in the air. My mouth watered again. I rolled down my window, crank by crank, and leaned into the muggy air, startling when the cab went over its first twig in the road. Apparently, suspension was also a luxury. Easton took my hand lovingly, and I could tell without looking at him that he was worried. I forced myself to hold his hand, even though it made my whole body feel ten degrees hotter than before.

  By the time we got to the trailhead, I all but tumbled out of the car. Opening my door before the car was fully parked, I lurched out of the sweat-infused sauna. I’d been working really hard to keep myself together, but I couldn’t do it any longer. I vomited small amounts of stomach acid on the side of the road. And when I was done, to my surprise, the nausea remained. It hadn’t eased one bit. I closed my eyes with disappointment in myself. I tried so hard not to ruin the day.

  “Are you OK?” Easton asked, rubbing my back.

  “Yup. I’m good. That was just the smell. You know. The cab,” I said, refusing to look at him. I pointed my finger aimlessly down the road toward the car as it drove away, a cloud of dust in its wake.

  “Hey, why don’t we just go back to the resort, and you can lie down? Maybe watch a movie or take a nap?”

  “No,” I whined.

  “Beck?” Easton started.

  “Please? Easton, I really want to see the waterfall. I don’t feel . . . steller, but, I believe I can do it . . .”

  “You . . . believe?” Easton’s eyes lasered in on mine, forcing me to look away.

  I sighed. “I can do it. Come on!” I didn’t give him a choice. I wiped my mouth on my arm and took off down the trail, never looking back.

  “Beck!” Easton called out. I shook my head in refusal and kept walking. The gravel crunching under my shoes. “Beck!” Easton called out.

  “Nope!” I kept walking.

  “Beck! It’s this way!”

  “Damn it!” I hissed, slowing my stubborn pace just long enough to shake off the embarrassment before spinning
on my heels and walking back to Easton and the forked trail. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of peeking at him as I passed by. His lips pulled up at the corners as our eyes met. The smirk on his face only made me furious.

  My aggravated pace didn’t last long, and before I knew it, I needed a break. I kneeled over to retie my shoes, not wanting to look weak. I was able to catch my breath just a little, but it wasn’t enough. Shortly thereafter, I officially announced it was break time. We must have only been a mile into the trail, but I was hot and breathless. I cursed the chicken who walked in circles on the beach. And every time a little voice in my head told me it wasn’t the chicken, my mouth would run, silencing my mind. I would say anything if it meant I didn’t have to hear myself think.

  “Think there are geckos out here?” I blurted out.

  “Um, yeah. Probably.”

  “Boas! What about them?” I looked up at the trees, waiting for a long vine to slink through the branches.

  “Uh, I don’t know. But I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

  I nodded. Opening my backpack to take out my water. I riffled through my bag, and my eye caught on the pregnancy test I had bought at the gift shop two nights ago. “Spider Monkeys! For sure though . . . Right?” I zipped up my backpack without ever taking my water out.

  “No. Definitely not. Hey, are you OK?” Easton asked again.

  I wasn’t OK. I was sick, I was worried, and worse yet, maybe even a little excited. Which, in all honesty, only worried me more. “Yeah. Let’s go!” I threw my backpack over my shoulder and jumped to my feet. Easton followed cautiously behind me. What if I actually was excited at the possibility of being pregnant but then found out not only that I wasn’t, but that I never would be? What if I was pregnant but wasn’t ready? What if Easton wasn’t ready?

  I didn’t take the test yesterday because I was sure I wasn’t pregnant. After all, Easton was sterile. He was over three hundred years old for crying out loud. It was impossible. And the only reason I was sick was because of the crazy chicken . . . The one I know was not served that night for dinner. I took a deep breath and admitted to myself that I had seen that very chicken doing donuts in the sand the following day.