Larkin cocked his head to the side and followed me down the stairs. Five minutes later, I had the easel in front of me down at the edge of the water, and my paints were ready to color the bland canvas. To build my concentration, I stared at the water and then closed my eyes, remembering the way it had felt slipping past beneath the catamaran. I felt the blues and greys stirring in the water, and I lifted the brush.
Chapter Seven
The afternoon hours melted away beneath my careful brush strokes, and I painted more furiously as the sun spent itself in luxurious shades of gold, trying to capture that moment of brilliance before the blindness of night descended. Perhaps it was the fact that I finally felt the blood pumping through my veins which might have made this one painting so significant. Perhaps it was the effect of the ocean. Perhaps it was because I knew this work would be my living legacy to Tyler that I struggled so hard to tear the colors from the sky and drape them upon this canvas.
“Still here, huh?” A voice called to me.
I looked up and saw Tyler coming out of his patio door. “Yeah. Time just slips away when I’m painting.”
“You’ve got the patience of a saint,” Tyler called from his deck. I looked up and saw the white shirt gleaming in the porch light. My gaze slowly lowered, noting his jeans and bare feet. He leaned over the rail, and the sand dollar dangled from the leather thong around his neck. He braced his elbows against the railing and clasped his hands together. “Why don’t you take a break for dinner?”
“Dinner,” I repeated, and at that moment, my stomach rumbled loudly as though replying for me. “You’ve already cooked one meal today.” The hand not holding the brush reached up and touched my hair, smoothing it into place. “Why don’t you be good to yourself and put some shoes on? Your feet might feel warmer then.”
“I’d hardly call preparing sandwiches cooking, Kelly.” He looked down at his toes. “I’m not cold. And I hate shoes. Always have.” Tyler stepped from the railing and came down the stairs. “Besides, how can you pass up steaks and baked potatoes?”
“You’ve fixed steaks?” I looked at the half-finished seascape in front of me. I could feel the ocean stirring in my work, but I also felt the emptiness of incompletion. Tomorrow I would add a sailboat surrounded by whitecaps.
“Well, I figured if you were going to be here painting, you might as well get a good dinner before you head back to your hotel room. Unless you like room service.”
“Yum.”
He stepped toward me as I started to collect my supplies and put them away. “You need any help carrying this stuff to your car?”
I pointed at the easel. “Yeah. If you want to put that in the trunk, it would be great.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my keys, handing them to him.
“Sure.” He folded the easel and carried it to the rental car as I put everything else together. Once we had placed my painting supplies into the trunk, I followed him up the stairs and onto his deck. Instead of going inside, I stood by the rail and watched the dark water spilling toward the shore. The tide seemed more furious as it rushed toward the shore, lapping at fragmented mounds which were once sand castles.
“It looks really different at night, doesn’t it?” Tyler asked as he stepped through the door.
“Yeah. It does,” I agreed. Hungrier.
A chilly breeze left goose bumps on my arms, and I shivered, immediately noticing how cool the night air had grown. Earlier, my painting had distracted me; now, I heard the water rushing toward the sand. I smelled the familiar salt air, and I closed my eyes as the full moon overhead beckoned me to feel its draw.
Tyler touched my shoulder, wrapping something soft around me. I reached up to touch his hands, but they were gone; they had left a leather bomber jacket in their place. “You looked cold,” Tyler said as he slipped inside. “I’m going to check on dinner. I doubt you’d be too thrilled if I burned it. Then we’d be doing take-out, I guess.”
“Well, I think it would be a meal well done,” I replied. A wry smile touched his face just before he turned away.
“Very well done,” he replied.
Once I was convinced Tyler was out of sight, I lowered my head and smelled the coat. Immediately the pine scent I had associated with him filled my senses. I closed my eyes and let the smell fill me, threading my pulse with a quickening beat. I stroked the supple leather and tried to imagine Tyler wearing it. I thrust my arms inside the sleeves and hugged the warm lining against my body.
Before he returned to the deck, I raised my head and peered back at the moon and the velvet sky overhead, wondering if my spirit would remember this night even after my body had ceased to exist. How could this pass away, too?
A film covered my eyes and for a long moment, I didn’t even realize I was crying, not until the tears spilled down my cheeks. Instead of wiping them away, I clutched the coat around my shoulders and pulled it tighter. I glanced down at my left hand, at the gold band still encircling my finger. With deliberate hesitation, I pulled it off, waiting for some sign to tell me I was doing something wrong.
No lightning flashed. No thunder roared. There were only the waves lapping at the shore, and me quietly watching as the moonlight glistened off the waves. I imagined myself running down the stairs and into the water, faster and farther until I couldn’t move forward and the tide began dragging me under. What would that feel like, to be able to control the moment of death?
Could I do that? Did I have the nerve?
I shoved the ring in my jeans pocket, stowing it until I could figure out what I wanted to do with it.
“Kelly?” Tyler softly touched my forearm.
I stiffened immediately and brushed the back of my hand across my face, wiping away the tear stains. The tides kept rolling.
Tyler took an uneasy step backward. “I just called you for dinner and when you didn’t answer, I came out to check on you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, heading for the door. “I’m going to wash my face.” As I walked down the hall, I heard Tyler close the sliding door. Once in the bathroom, I peered at my reflection, railing at my inability to control my emotions. Turning on the faucet, I cupped my hands under the water and splashed my face, trying to make my complexion appear less splotchy.
It worked all right. My whole face was red, and my eyes appeared glazed. “You have such a way of looking foolish around him,” I muttered savagely. Besides my red face, I also noticed that much of my hair had eased out of the braid. Sighing, I realized I might as well just pull the rest free.
Moments later, I joined Tyler in the dining room where he had set the table and filled both our plates. As I walked in, he pointed at the chair where I had sat before. “Are you still hungry?”
Nodding, I said, “Starved.” The smell of dinner left my stomach growling, and I sat. I unfolded the cloth napkin and placed it in my lap. Surveying the food, I said, “It looks great.”
Tyler sat, picked up his own napkin, and placed it in his lap. “But it still has to pass your taste test before the vote is official.”
“So true.” I cut the steak and took a bite under his watchful eye. Once I’d swallowed, I said, “Tastes good to me.”
“That’s a relief,” he said, rolling his eyes. He took a bite and passed a basket of dinner rolls. “Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?” His voice sounded neutral, like a question about the weather, and he avoided eye contact with me.
I set the fork on my plate and took the basket he’d offered. His hand touched mine for just a moment, stroking each finger before moving away. I felt his stare, and in the warmth of his blue eyes, I relaxed. I smiled and shook my head. “No. It’s nothing that matters anyway.”
* * *
“It’s getting late,” I said as I helped Tyler load the dishes into the dishwasher. “I should probably be getting back to the hotel.” My back ached, and I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the cramped muscles.
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“Yeah,” Tyler agreed, looking at the clock. 8:00.
I walked to the table and picked up my purse, pulling my keys from the side pocket. “As I started to go outside, Tyler said, “Wait. I’ve got something for you. I almost forgot.”
I stopped and watched him go down the hall. A moment later, he came back, holding something in his closed hand. “What is it?” I asked.
“Hold out your hand and find out.”
Placing my keys and purse on the table, I reached out and turned my palms upward. Tyler opened his fist to reveal a shell necklace. Most of the shells were small and corkscrew-shaped, but in the center, I spotted a sand dollar, just like the one he wore. For a moment, I didn’t move but stared at his gift. “It’s beautiful,” I finally managed in a tear-thickened voice. My trembling hands slowly brought it upwards and pulled it around my neck.
Tyler reached out and adjusted it. “I know you like shells, especially the sand dollars.”
I reached up and touched it, running my fingers over the flat, round surface. “Thank you.” A thick lump formed in my throat. “What’s holding the shells together?”
“Fishing line. It’s pretty hard to break and just thin enough to thread through the small holes I made in the shells.” He smiled down at me, and inches separated our faces. Lots of air. But I couldn’t seem to breathe quickly enough to slow the beating of my heart.
Finally, Tyler averted his eyes. He reached up touched my shoulder, massaging gently. “You’d better go, Kelly. It is getting late.”
I stepped backward and replied. “I know.” I picked up my things. “Again, thanks for everything.”
Tyler shoved his hands in his pockets. He slowly exhaled and smiled softly. “I just wanted you to have a part of the ocean with you wherever you go. You’re the first person I’ve found who seems to like it as much as I do.”
I glanced down at the shells one last time and realized I was still wearing Tyler’s jacket. “Oh, I should give this back to you.” I started to take it off, but he held up his hand, stopping me.
“No, keep it for now. The night air is kind of cold.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” He stepped around and opened the door for me. Larkin slstepped outside before me. “Be careful driving back to the hotel, Kelly.”
“Always.” I stepped out into the moonlight and crisp air. At once, I was glad he had loaned me the jacket because it took away the bite of the cold. For just a moment I wondered if it were the jacket which kept me warm or knowing that it belonged to Tyler and that it had draped his body many times before.
Larkin ran down the stairs and circled me, kicking up sand as he went. I stopped and frowned at the dog. “Don’t you ever get tired?”
As if in response, Larkin ran toward me, intending to jump on me, but I jerked to the side, dodging his paws as I finally ran down the stairs. At first, I started toward my car, intending to drive to the hotel as planned, but then I looked back at Tyler’s house, and the way the blackness framed it, broken only by the light pouring from the windows. For moments I just stood there, watching the stillness and thinking That is what a home should feel like.
Without my realizing it, a man I hadn’t known a week ago had defined some part of my life I hadn’t realized existed. He had shown me the ocean and made me respect her. And I wouldn’t ever be the same. The more I knew of him, the more I realized I could actually die now since I had finally lived. That was Tyler’s gift to me.
Forcing my gaze away from the house, I knew I couldn’t go back to the empty hotel room just yet. I stared at the long stretch of beach spread before me, and I started to walk it, leaving shoeprints in the sand which would have been washed away come morning. But they were here now as I was.
As I walked along the beach and gazed at the star-scattered heavens, I felt the first tug of pain slice free inside my head, foreshadowing a headache. My heart rate doubled as I bent and opened my purse, sorting through the contents, looking for my medication.
Damn, I had forgotten to take one. Panic mounted as I began to doubt the pills were there, and pain exploded like a mushroom cloud. I fell to my knees, groaning. At last I found the bottle. With shaking hands, I jerked the lid off and threw a pill into my mouth. As I swallowed, I gagged on it, almost vomiting, but I forced it down.
In the distance I could hear Larkin barking. Once his cold nose touched my face and I pushed him away and cradled my head in my hands, waiting as the fog took over, scratching my brain like steel wool. I layed in the sand and curled into a fetal ball before releasing myself to blackness.
* * *
“Kelly?” Tyler’s voice burst through the blackness. “Are you okay?”
“Headache,” I murmured. “Migrane.”
His fingers touched my face. “Jesus, you’re freezing. “At least you kept the jacket on.” He lifted my back and picked me up, even as I started to protest.
“I can walk.” My voice sounded odd. It’s probably the medicine.
“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing my body tighter to his to keep me from struggling against him. “You can show me later.”
He carried me toward the house, and even in his arms the pain beat inside my skull, sharpened with each step he took. I whimpered.
“Easy,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’m moving as smooth as I can.”
It seemed like thirty minutes had passed before we finally reached the stairs. “I know this will feel rough,” he warned and started up them. At the top, he managed to slide the back door open without putting me down. Once we were inside, he closed the door behind us. The world was spinning, and I rested my head against his chest, right under his chin. Trying to stop the whirling around me, I closed my eyes.
“Head hurts.”
“Did you take your medicine?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah.” I expected him to set me down on the couch, but when I opened my eyes, I saw that he had carried me into a bedroom. Judging from the small size, I didn’t think it was his, and the single-sized bed seemed to confirm that suspicion. I felt fairly certain he slept in a larger bed, one with a more masculine design on the coverings than roses.
Before putting me on the bed, he pulled back the covers. Then he laid me underneath them. Before I could react, he’d removed my shoes and slid my legs under the blankets. After he finished tucking the blankets around my body, he picked up the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. “What’s the number to the hotel?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Despite the grogginess and pain filling my head, I sat up and threw back the covers, fully intending to get up.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Tyler said. “Lie back down and tell me the number for your hotel. I need to call Gary and tell him to pick you up because you’re sick.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, taking a deep breath.
I stood or would have if Tyler hadn’t hung up the phone and put his hands on my shoulders to keep me from rising. “You shouldn’t be up and around.”
“I’ll get myself back to the hotel. I can drive.” I brushed away his hands and stood. The room swirled violently and my balance was swept away. Tyler’s free hand wrapped around my waist, and he gently placed me back on the bed.
Tyler’s gaze snapped from the buttons on the phone to my face. “The hell you will. You just fainted a few minutes ago, and you’re not driving anywhere. I’ll call Gary. He can come get you, or I’ll drive you back.”
Frustrated by our impasse, I finally submitted to the dizziness wearing me down and leaned back into the reassuring comfort of the mattress. “Gary’s not at the hotel. He’s in Colorado. Boulder, to be exact. Talk about one hell of a cab fare, huh?”
Tyler frowned, and his eyebrows tugged downward. “What?” He started to pace the room. “What is he doing in Boulder? Why isn’t he with you?”
I shivered and drew the coverings close around my body. “Business,” I lied. “He had business to attend to, and I wanted to stay here a while longer.”
He s
topped pacing and sat on the bed beside me. His hands rested on his knees, the fingers splayed. With an artist’s clarity, I memorized the shape of each of them and the scar which marred the flesh between his right thumb and forefinger. “How did you get that?” I reached out and touched it, tracing the small, crooked line.
Tyler blinked and lowered his head to glance at the skin I touched. “Oh, I was cleaning a fish I’d caught and the knife slipped. It wouldn’t stop bleeding, so I had to get some stitches.”
He pulled his hand away and raked it through his hair. “Well, you can’t exactly go driving tonight. I can take you back to the hotel when you’re ready.” He stood and walked toward the door.
His fingers touched the molding around the door and just as he would have disappeared, I asked, “What if I’m not ready? Can I stay here tonight?”
His back stiffened, and his head lowered. His relaxed grip on the doorframe tightened, and his shoulders straightened into a line. “Kelly, I know there’re some things going on in your life you might not want me to know about, things I don’t have a right to ask. But I don’t want to complicate it. I don’t have the right to do that, either. Staying here probably wouldn’t be a great idea.” He released the molding and slowly turned. Facing me, the lines and shadows of half-light decorated his skin, and I narrowed my eyes, wishing I could distill his emotions on the canvas of my heart as easily as his features on the canvas I would paint.
“It’s only for one night. You’re not complicating anything.” My voice sounded breathy. I plucked at the comforter, twisting a small piece. “Trust me.”
For a moment, he stared at me as though he expected me to say something else. When I didn’t, he walked to the small chest at the foot of the bed, lifted the lid, and pulled out an extra blanket. “Here’s an extra blanket in case you get cold.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s your head?” His tone softened, and he folded his arms over his chest. “Did your medication take care of the headache? I’ve still got some aspirin if you need it.”
Rising Tides Page 7
