Love, Lattes and Mutants

by Sandra Cox

  Impatience dances along my nerve endings like a thousand spiders. I manage to keep it out of my voice...just. “That’s really nice, Holly, but I can’t today. Rain check?” I’m going to be busy swimming the ocean, checking on her brother. “Just out of curiosity do you know where your brother is headed?”

  “Not really. He said he didn’t intend to go out too far.” Before I can respond she continues, “Why the interest in my bro? Do you two have something going on?”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it, shocked. “Get serious, Holly. Your brother is the most popular boy in school. He can have anyone he wants. I’m the school mouse.”

  “The thing about mice is they can scurry around unobserved, go places, and see things that most people can’t,” Holly responds.

  “While that’s very astute on your part, I don’t think that’s the main thing that attracts high school boys,” I reply dryly.

  “You got that right.” She laughs. “Though, I’ve never heard Tyler rhapsodize about a girl’s voice before. He keeps talking about sea sirens. I hate to hurt your feelings, but I don’t get it. You sound rather raspy to me. You aren’t a smoker are you?”

  I’d just brought my coffee to my lips when she mentions sea sirens. It goes spewing across the counter. I hastily wipe my mouth. “Listen, Holly, I’ve got to go. Got a call coming in.”

  “Okay, talk to you—”

  “Yeah, sure.” I click off before she can say anymore. “Come on, Gramps.”

  As if on cue, my cell rings. “Gramps?”

  “Sorry, honey. No luck. Burt said the kid headed out a couple of hours ago.”

  Burt and Gramps are old cronies. They’ve known each other nearly sixty years.

  “You’re going out aren’t you?”

  The kitchen darkens. I lift the curtain and look out the window. The sun has disappeared and the sky is black. A wind that will quickly pick up is blowing. “Yeah. I am.”

  “You be careful.”

  “I will. And, Gramps.”

  “Yes?”

  “You better get home.”

  “On my way.”

  I run to the bedroom and throw on a midnight blue one-piece with the back cut out then rush out the door, the screen banging behind me. I trot to the cliff’s edge. The house is set off, with no near neighbors. Unless someone has a pair of binoculars focused on it, no one will see me. I dive into the foaming gray waves below.

  I turn in a circle and look around. The air, heavy and still, increases the clamp-like pressure on my head.

  A horizontal spear of lightning flickers along the shore. Thunder rolls. Several yards away, a speedboat skims the water’s surface. Waves buck and roll in its wake. The sun that warmed the water when it came up has disappeared. I breathe in thick wet air and strike out toward sea.

  Chapter 7

  The wind picks up. The water rises, gray and stormy. A cold drop plops on my face then another and another.

  The sky opens. Rain pours down in sheets. A large wave washes over me, picks me up, and tosses me down. I go with it, closing my nose, mouth, and blowhole. Icy water washes over and under me.

  It subsides, only to build and hit again, more powerful than ever. The squall blows in earnest. I can survive this, last as long as it takes, but can Tyler?

  How can his boat keep from capsizing? Somehow, I have to find him. In spite of the waves that pound me and the icy liquid that pours in my eyes, I push forward through wall after wall of gray swells.

  There’s nothing but an angry sea, black skies, and sheets of rain. I feel alone in the universe. The sea creatures have the good sense to head deep into the ocean and wait out the storm’s ferocity.

  Treading water, I glance around. To my right, something white catches my eye. I swim toward it. A wave knocks me back. I try again and get knocked back again. After what seems forever, I reach it. A poor drowned crane floats on the water. It disappears in the next gray wave.

  Which direction now? I sluice the rain out of my face and push back my hair. I might as well not bother. I’m blinded almost immediately.

  The waves slow. Taking advantage, I look around, cupping my hand above my eyes for better visibility. In the distance, a dot of orange catches my eye. I swim toward it, pushing through the icy water.

  A dolphin DNA benefit that completely escaped me is the layer of fat under the skin to keep me warm. Right now, the only thing keeping my teeth from chattering is constant movement. Even so, goose bumps roughen my skin as I swim toward the orange dot. A swell tosses me backward. I’m getting nowhere.

  I get my bearings and dive beneath the waves. Ah, much better. The ocean is rough but I’m holding my own. I press my lips together and taste the salty liquid of the sea.

  I swim for about eight minutes then surface, just in time to get hit by another wave. Several feet away, something floats on the water. The downpour so intense I can’t make out what it is. I swim forward, reach…and a gust of wind carries it away. I dive after it, stretching out my arm till it feels like my joints will pop. I’ve got it! My heart sinks. A life preserver.

  “This doesn’t mean it belongs to Tyler.” The howling wind whips my words away.

  Without the sun, it’s impossible to tell what time it is. I’ve been in the water for hours. I’m tiring. Even girls with dolphin DNA have limits in storms.

  Time to go back under. I start to dive down just as a wave lifts me eight feet in the air and tosses me down. I belly flop. “Ouch!” It hurts like a mother. Ignoring the pain, I dive below.

  Rod cells in my retinas allow me to see in the murky dark of the ocean. Nothing shows above. At least the swimming isn’t so difficult. Cold waves still buffet me, but not with the intensity of the surface.

  I’m several miles out. I have to believe Tyler would have headed back when the squall hit or at least tried. I decide to swim horizontal with the shore for a six-mile radius from the dock. It’s not perfect but it’s a plan.

  Back and forth. Back and forth. I’m exhausted, but I force myself on. I have no idea how long I’ve been in the water. My neck has a permanent crick in it from staring up at the surface.

  I keep thinking of that floatation device. What if it’s too late when I find him? Or worse yet, what if he’s never found?

  I’m so tired it takes me a moment to realize there’s a shadow on the water. As I get closer, I see the outline of a boat tilted on its side. I swim faster.

  There! Two long legs hang from the side of the boat, water running in rivulets along the dark hairs covering them. Pushing with my feet, I swim straight up, bubbles pouring behind me as I breathe rapidly.

  I hit the surface.

  It’s Tyler! Barely conscious, he holds on to the side, a life preserver wrapped around his waist.

  The temperature is dropping. The rain continues its steady downpour. At least the waves have died to manageable levels. I take his hands and try to pry them away from the boat. “Let go, Tyler. I’ll tow you in.”

  Barely conscious, he blinks at me. “Piper?”

  Even in the water, my body jerks. How has he recognized me? My voice.

  I can’t worry about that now. I grab his life vest. “Tyler, let go.”

  “I can’t.” His head lolls, his eyes close, his shoulders slump. I have no idea how long he’s been in the water. I touch his hand. It’s icy cold. What if he has hypothermia? Fear sluices through me.

  I have to concentrate on getting him to shore.

  “Let go.” I paddle in place beside him.

  “Can’t,” he repeats.

  I massage the pressure points in his hands. Gradually, they open. Rain continues to fall, plastering his hair to the sides of his skull. His white cheekbones look like they will break through the skin any minute. A wave hits and knocks him several feet from the boat. I dive into the water and catch up with him in a few smooth strokes.

  I surface, grab his life vest, and haul him toward shore. He float
s on his back, water from the rain and waves drenching his face. I fervently hope he doesn’t drown before I get him to land. Is that what waterboarding feels like?

  “Tyler.”

  He makes no response.

  “Stay with me, Tyler.” I strike out faster, extending my arm as far as I can, and kick hard. Steadily, we move forward.

  I feel the tremor of the wave before it reaches us. Pulling Tyler’s icy body against mine, I bury his head in my shoulder. His skin is so cold it permeates my bones. I push my body close to his, trying to warm him but my own body temperature is too low.

  Moments later the wave crashes over us. The powerful icy surge sucks us down. Tyler squirms against me trying to break free. I hold on, afraid he’ll drown if I let go. If the wave doesn’t flatten soon, he will anyway.

  Finally, the wave subsides with a grumbling swish. Tyler has stopped struggling.

  I head toward shore. My heart races, my breath comes in short sharp gasps. “You stay with me, Tyler. Do you hear?” I yank hard at his hair for emphasis.

  “Ouch.”

  It’s weak but I hear it.

  “Piper.” It’s no more than a breath near my ear.

  “I’m not Piper,” I shout into the wind.

  There’s no response. I swim harder. My arms and legs ache. The sky has lightened to dull gray, still dark but not black. The rain has turned to cold drizzle. I’m exhausted. Even mutants have their limits, especially when they’re hauling a limp young man through undercurrents.

  I squint through the dreary mist. To my right and several hundred yards ahead is the cove. I switch direction and head toward it, praying Gramps will be waiting for me. As I get closer, I see the beam of truck lights.

  My pace picks up. It has to be Gramps! There’s a steep, overgrown, one-vehicle lane that circles down to the cove. It’s a private road that no one else uses.

  Water slaps against rock. We’ve made it. I hit the shallows and pull myself up on rubbery legs. I let go of Tyler’s life vest and he splashes back into the water. I grab the back of his vest and haul him out.

  His eyes open, dilated and unfocused. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me down against him. Shock shoots through my system. He moves a hand, brings my head down to his, and plants his mouth on mine. Not quite sure how it happens, I’m returning a kiss that has a little tongue and a lot of experience. I forget the cold and wet, lost in the moment.

  He sighs. His hands fall to the wet sand. I lift my head and his flops to the side.

  “Tyler?”

  No response. He’s passed out.

  “Piper!” Gramps comes running.

  “I’m okay.” My cheeks hot, I hope the overcast sky and rain curtained that kiss from my grandfather’s view.

  “How’s the boy?” Gramps hauls him away from the water, further up the rocky shore. Tyler’s body bumps over pebbles and stones, till Gramps lays him on a flat spot of sand.

  “I don’t know.”

  Gramps gives me a quick look. Something in my voice must have given away my confusion: the kiss and the fear for his welfare. But I’m pretty sure he couldn’t have kissed me like that if he’d been at death’s door. I shudder.

  Gramps sees it and mistakes it for cold. He shrugs out of his yellow slicker and drapes it around my shoulders.

  “You keep it.” I start to take it off.

  He lays a hand on my shoulders. “Keep it, girl.” He bends down awkwardly. I can almost hear old bones creak. “He’s breathing.”

  Is he? Does it take air to kiss someone senseless?

  Gramps tilts him to the side so he can cough up any water he’s swallowed.

  Tyler lets loose and expels what he’s taken in. While Tyler wheezes, Gramps moves in front of me to block his view. He pulls the collar up around me and sticks his yellow-billed, heavy-duty, rain hat on my head, and pulls it down where my eyes are shadowed. “Let’s get him in the truck.”

  I nod. I’m not just worried about Tyler. Gramps doesn’t need to be out in the damp, chilled to the bone, at his age. In two months, he’ll turn seventy-one.

  He’d scoff at my concerns so I don’t bother to voice them.

  We each put an arm around Tyler and half-drag, half-carry him to the truck. The old door opens with a loud squawk. We lift Tyler inside. At a stiff gait, Gramps trots to the driver’s side and climbs in. I hoist myself on the seat and slam the door.

  Tyler’s head falls against my shoulder. I have no idea whether he is conscious or has slipped back into unconsciousness. Gramps turns the key and the old truck roars to life. He reaches over and turns up the heat. The warm air blowing out the vents feels like heaven. I balance Tyler with my free arm and slouch back against the worn leather seat, my eyes closed, exhausted.

  I must have drifted off because the next thing I know, Gramps is pulling me gently out of the truck. “Come on, Piper, wake up. Let’s get you both inside.”

  I pry open sticky eyes and nod. My arms and legs feel like lead. Every bone in my body aches. Tyler shifts against me. The heat helped but he’s still chilly. A shudder runs through him. His face is white, his sunken eyes stained purple.

  “We need to get him in the house.” The old seat groans as I shift uneasily. I slide off the seat and out of the truck.

  “Piper?” Tyler’s head rests on the back of the seat, his long thick lashes resting on the taut skin under his eyes.

  I open my mouth to respond. Gramps shakes his head. I snap my mouth shut, appalled. What if I’d responded and he made the connection between the woman who rescued him and me?

  I tug on Gramps’ arm and whisper in his ear, “Do we need to take him to the hospital?”

  He shakes his head and says in a low voice, “I’ve hauled enough men out of the sea to know he’s going to be alright.” Without saying another word, we drag him into the cottage and the little spare bedroom in the back. Gramps keeps his fishing rods there and I have a pen and a couple of cages for the occasional hurt turtle or bird I bring home to nurse back to health. A small sparrow, with a wing healing, chirps from his perch.

  We manage to get Tyler onto the twin bed where he drops face down on the gray and white striped duvet. His long, lanky body makes the bed look even smaller.

  With a grunt, Gramps rolls him over, fumbling at the clasp of the bright orange life vest Tyler still wears. I start forward to help. With an abrupt jerk of his head, Gramps motions me out of the room.

  I nod and slip out. I hang up his raincoat and hat on the peg in the hallway then head for my room. Feeling fragile as cracked glass about to shatter, I head for the bathroom. There I drop my wet suit on the floor and climb into the shower. I turn the water on hot as possible and stand under it, my head down, my palms on the side of the wall. Steam that smells of vanilla-strawberry gel fills the tiny room.

  I no longer feel the cold in my bones as I step out of the shower and go to my room, a soft old blue towel wrapped around me and tied above my breasts.

  With a martyred sigh, I pull out baggy linen pants and one of Gramps’ plaid shirts that hangs past my knees. Grimacing, I push the sleeves up and scrape back my hair. I lift the wretched glasses with all the enthusiasm I’d show a poisonous snake. Oh well, it can’t be helped.

  My nerd costume firmly in place, I make my way down the hall. Gramps is pulling blankets up to Tyler’s chin. He straightens and motions toward the hall.

  “How is he?” I whisper.

  “Exhausted.” Gramps takes my arm and leads me to the kitchen. He pulls eggs out of the refrigerator. With a flick of the wrist, he cracks them, the sound melding with the homey hum of the refrigerator. “He surfaced long enough to ask if you’d rescued him.”

  “And you said?”

  “That I found him on the shore and brought him home.”

  “Thanks, Gramps.” I heave a sigh of relief.

  “Have you called his parents yet?” He beats the eggs.

  “No, I thought we’d better get our st
ories straight first.”

  “You’ve been here all day. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” He looks over his shoulder and grins. His blues eyes twinkle like a young man’s.

  One look at that grin and my heart warms. He’s the most important person in my universe. I refuse to think about his age or that he won’t be around forever. “I like your story.”

  “I thought you might. You better call.” He turns around and goes back to his eggs.

  “Will do. By the way, what time is it?”

  He glances at his watch. “Two-thirty.”

  “In the afternoon?” No way. I’d been in the water, in the middle of a storm for almost six hours. But then again, so had Tyler. Who knew when his catamaran turned over.

  “That’s right.” Our eyes meet. The worry he felt surfaces before it’s quickly hidden.

  Trying for reassuring, I wink at him.

  He winks back. “While you were out there, I kept thinking of the night you were born. There was a gale blowing then, too, and the rain coming down hard enough it washed the roads out. Good thing your daddy and momma decided to have you at home. We wouldn’t have been able to get out anyway.” His face softens as he speaks and his lips turn up in a reminiscent smile.

  “Having Grams deliver me was a good decision.” I grin and point over my shoulder to my blowhole.

  “Neither of your parents knew how much of your momma’s DNA you carried and didn’t want to take any chances with anyone outside the family. But that’s ancient history. You best make that phone call.”

  “Right.” Lifting myself from the chair, I trot to my room, groaning as my creaky legs complain. I scoop my cell phone off the dresser and hit speed dial.

  “Hello.” Holly’s voice sounds strained.

  “Holly, it’s Piper. I wanted to let you know, your brother is all right.”

  “Thank God! Where is he?”

  Before I can respond, she sings out, “Mom, Dad, he’s all right.”

  “Sorry. Where is he, Piper?”

  “Here.”

  “At your place?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d he get there? What happened?”