Play of Light

by Debra Doxer

  There were my dunes with their uneven peaks, long green grasses, and the wooden fence that rambled behind them. I stood completely still, blinking and trying to focus because the form sitting on top of the first rise looked just like Spencer.

  I had to shake myself, like earlier at the service road, unsure if this was then or now. But when he stood and faced me, the breeze rippled through his dark hair and flattened his shirt against his chest. And I knew. It was now, and he was here, waiting for me.

  Slowly I began moving again. He watched my progression, and once I was close enough to see his expression, I realized he was smiling.

  “It took you long enough to get here,” he said. “But you’re just in time.” Then he sat and rested his arms on his knees, waiting for me to sit down beside him.

  I laughed. He was looking at me as if we’d just done this yesterday. “Are you here every morning?” I asked as I climbed up and sat myself down a few inches away from him.

  “Just since you got to town.”

  I wondered if he was joking, but he looked serious. My mouth fell open a little.

  “When I saw you walk onto the beach just now, it felt like I’d stepped back in time,” he said.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Me too.”

  He erased the distance between us by shifting so close that our shoulders touched. His face was right next to mine now.

  Averting my gaze from the intensity of his, I looked out at the ocean and then over to the quiet street that led to my house. From what I could see, some things had changed. Gone were the old ranch-style homes built so long ago. In their place were huge structures with walls of windows facing the water.

  “Why did you come this morning?” Spencer asked.

  My heart fluttered at the pressure of his arm against mine. “I needed to think.”

  He nudged me gently. “What did you need to think about?”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. But for reasons I couldn’t name, I found myself telling him anyway. “One of my dad’s friends took me to dinner. He said some things that were hard to hear.”

  “What things?” Spencer shifted his upper body in my direction, and our shoulders parted.

  I drew my arms in, wrapping them around my legs. “That leaving five years ago was the right thing to do. That my dad would have wanted it that way.”

  Spencer sighed. “You can’t keep second-guessing the past. You’ll never be able to move on. Believe me, I know a little something about that.”

  “I’m not second-guessing the past. I never agreed with the decision in the first place.”

  His lips pressed together. He knew I never wanted to leave. “Riley told me you guys talked today,” he said. “She said you told her everything.”

  “Not everything.” I dug my toes farther into the sand. “I didn’t tell her your secret. But she already knew it.”

  He blew out a breath. “You shouldn’t have known it. It wasn’t fair of me to lay all that on you.”

  Not wanting him to regret our talks, I reached down and took his hand, threading my fingers through his. It felt bold of me, but it was instinctive to want to comfort him, even now. “I’m glad you could talk to me.”

  “The night I came here with Astro in my coat and waited for you . . .” He paused and ran his free hand through his hair. “I’ve regretted it every night since.”

  My fingers tightened around his as I asked the last remaining question I’d wondered about all this time. “Where did you go after I left that night? Did you go home?”

  “No. I just got up and walked. I didn’t get far, though. I was so drunk I could barely stand, but I couldn’t let your family take me in. That would have caused too much trouble. So I stayed behind the old lifeguard shack when I heard you and your father calling me.”

  My head snapped in his direction. “You were still on the beach?”

  He nodded.

  I couldn’t believe he’d been here the whole time while we frantically searched for him. “Spencer,” I said, hearing the pain and disbelief in my voice.

  He swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  My eyes shifted away from him, and I couldn’t help but think about how the night might have gone differently if he hadn’t hidden from us. The resentment I held for him had diminished each time we talked, but now it came rushing back. He’d been here the whole time.

  I stared out over the water. Spencer said nothing more after that. We just sat quietly and watched the horizon turn pink with the first signs of daylight. When the arc of the sun appeared, the pink brightened to orange, reflecting off the ocean, making it look like the water was on fire. I’d seen plenty of sunsets here but only a handful of sunrises, and I was no less awed by this one than I was by the first. When I looked back at Spencer’s face, his skin was bathed in warm light, but a cloud seemed to hover above him. After witnessing such beauty, I didn’t want the old resentment to return.

  “What did you do with Astro?” I asked.

  He blinked as if my voice had interrupted his thoughts. “I took him home and buried him in the backyard. Then I passed out next to him.”

  My eyes closed. Now I knew where he was when everything happened.

  Spencer lifted our entwined hands and captured them with his free one. “Sarah, why were you in the car that night with your father?”

  My chest tightened. I didn’t want to tell him and make him feel more guilty than he already did.

  “Where were you going?” he pressed. “It had to do with me, didn’t it?”

  Tell the truth. The time for secrets was over. I knew that. I needed to tell him. Pulling in a shaky breath, I met his gaze. “My dad was going to see the social worker in town about you. I wanted to go too, but my mother wouldn’t let me. So I snuck out and hid in the car. To tell the social worker what I knew and make sure she helped you.”

  He stared at me for a moment before his face fell. His gaze drifted away from mine, and there was enough daylight for me to see a sheen of tears forming.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He pulled his hand away and dug his palms into his eyes.

  When I reached for his wrists to take his hands down, he surprised me by abruptly lowering them so he could wrap his arms around me and fold me tight against his chest. I curled into him, letting him pull me onto his lap and cradle me close.

  When he kept apologizing, I said, “It wasn’t your fault. Your uncle was after my father because of other things that happened. It wasn’t you, Spencer. You didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s not true,” he said beside my ear. “I’m the reason you were in the car that night. I’m responsible for that.”

  I turned my face into his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault I was there, that I didn’t blame him for anything, but it wasn’t true. I’d blamed everyone at different times, including him and myself, but there was only one person responsible and it wasn’t Spencer or me.

  “I’ve missed you, Sarah. So much,” he said softly. His breath felt warm as it sifted through my hair.

  Since I first got here, Spencer had been breaking me down, dissolving my animosity, showing me why I was so drawn to him in the first place. I gave in to the bone-deep need to find comfort in his arms. On a basic level, it felt right to be held by him. I’d always felt like we belonged to each other. The fact that we weren’t together never changed that.

  We stayed this way until the sun floated higher in the sky and the seagulls began looking for their breakfast. I pulled away first, wanting to see his face, feeling like this moment had been a long time coming. It sealed a crack he’d created between us and healed one of the many hurts I’d been holding on to.

  As I leaned back to look at him, the wind blew a strand of hair across my cheek. Spencer reached up and captured it, then he tucked it behind my ear. Our gazes met, and in the span of a few seconds, I registered that he was going to kiss me, and then debated whether I should let him. But I couldn’t stop this
if I wanted to, and I’d waited too long for his lips to touch mine again.

  Then they did.

  His soft mouth pressed against mine and his warm breath slid over my skin. He was gentle and tentative. He couldn’t have known how he set off sparks inside me or how my heart was tripping wildly inside my chest. I kissed him back, mimicking his featherlight touch. All too soon, he drew away and looked at me with something different in his eyes, something stronger. Want.

  I bit my lower lip, drawing it into my mouth, trying to gather more of his taste.

  “That’s the kiss I wish I’d given you first,” he said. His hand came up and the back of his fingers brushed across my scarred cheek. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, Sarah. You never did.”

  I basked in his words, feeling as if he’d cast a spell on me. I wanted another kiss, and I wanted to spend all day reveling in the way he was looking at me.

  He seemed to want the same thing as his hand cradled my face and he slanted his mouth over mine. Our tongues touched, and my whole body leaned into his. This was so different from any other kiss I’d ever gotten. It wasn’t only my mouth responding, it was everything inside me.

  It took longer than it should have for me to think of Nate. Spencer’s kiss might have muddled my thoughts, but it also made them all too clear. What I was doing had never been fair to Nate. I’d lied to him, and now I was cheating on him too.

  When I pulled back, Spencer’s hand tightened on my waist. “I have a boyfriend,” I said as guilt pricked at me.

  There was a long pause before he lowered his arm and said, “I know. I’m sorry.” Then he laughed. “No, I’m not. I’m not sorry at all.”

  I should have been outraged, but I wasn’t. All I could muster was a shy smile. I pushed lightly on his arms, a silent request to release me. For the first time, I looked closely at the small block lettering of his tattoos. The letters formed columns on the outside of each forearm. From a distance, the letters all seemed to run together, but up close I could see there were small spaces separating them into words. The words looked like Latin, which I barely remembered from high school. There were three words written on each forearm, running from his wrist to his elbow.

  “What do these mean?” I asked, touching his arm lightly.

  Spencer looked pleased at my question. He lifted his right arm and turned it to display the writing better. “I got them to remind me of how I want to live my life. When I turned eighteen and moved out, I decided not to let my uncle or my circumstances define me anymore. I wanted to define myself. Once I figured out who I wanted to be, I got some permanent reminders so I’d never forget.”

  As I peered up at him, I felt a mixture of awe and curiosity. “Who is it you want to be?”

  “More like what.” He smiled. Then he took my hand in his and ran my fingertips over the first word written near his right wrist. As my hand grazed his skin, I could practically feel the electricity running between us.

  “Invictus,” he said. “It means unconquered.” Then he slowly moved my fingers farther up his arm. “Fortis means brave, and this one, beneficus, means generous.” He switched the hand that held mine so he could repeat the process on his other arm. “Fidens is courageous. Humilis means humble.”

  When he slid my fingers over the last word near his elbow, I could have sworn I felt him shiver. He cleared his throat and said, “This one, benignus, means kind.”

  I felt like melting into him by the time he’d finished, and I was hyperaware of how his arms encircled me and the feel of his muscular thighs beneath me. A lump formed in my throat as I thought about his bravery and how hard he’d worked to overcome all he’d gone through. “That’s beautiful,” I said. “But I think you were always all those things.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not always.”

  I was going to contradict him when he stopped me by saying, “Tell me something. This boyfriend of yours, do you love him?”

  I hesitated before shaking my head. I thought of what Spencer had said at Colby’s party about not being proud of his situation with Annabelle. I felt the same way with Nate.

  “It’s okay,” he said gently, reading something in my expression. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

  I blinked away from his stare and looked down at the words he’d just read to me. Those were traits I wanted to embody. I already knew I was lacking in the courage department. But I would also add one more to his list, honesty. I came up short there too when it came to Nate and so many other things. I had to be honest with Nate before I could even think about what Spencer might want from me.

  Spencer gripped my waist as he stood, lifting me with him and setting me on my feet in the sand. He half walked and half slid down the small slope of the dune. Then he held out his hand.

  “Take a walk with me,” he said as he looked toward Sandy Neck Lane, in the direction of my old house. I knew that was where he wanted to go. Now that I was so close, I wanted to go too. With Spencer beside me, I felt like I could.

  I swallowed hard. Then I put my hand in his.

  As I walked silently beside Spencer, my steps slowed the closer we got to the house. Spencer kept pace with me, not urging me along, but only squeezing my hand for support.

  When my family lived there, our house was a gray-brown color with worn wood shingles and white trim. When I took those last few steps that would put the house within view, I held my breath. So many houses on the street no longer resembled my memories. What if mine didn’t either? But the moment it appeared, I released a sigh, then a smile. It looked the same, and it was a sight for sore eyes. A few more yards and soon we were standing in front of it.

  I looked from the porch to the front door and over to the white-paned windows of the living room. In my memories, I heard my mother calling me in for dinner, and Emma closing her bedroom door because she didn’t want to get off the phone yet. I heard “Decode” by Paramore playing in my room while I sat on my bed and did my homework. Then I pictured Mom and Dad sitting in the old beach chairs they kept on the porch, watching for Emma and me to come home from wherever we’d gone. Usually I was at Riley’s, and Emma was down at the corner store hanging out with her friends.

  There were some small changes I noticed. A few wooden shingles below Emma’s bedroom window upstairs had been replaced. There was a small yellow sign beside the front door that read WELCOME. A wind chime hung from the porch ceiling, giving off a soft tinkling sound as we stood there.

  But the most meaningful and colorful feature my gaze found was the tall purple asters that lined the beds in front of the house. They stretched up toward the railing posts. I’d helped my mother plant them, and they bloomed late in the summer, often lasting until the first frost. Long after the other flowers of spring and summer began to fade, the asters appeared, giving us one last vibrant splash of color before the muted tones of fall took root.

  “The asters are still blooming,” I whispered, wondering how they had persisted here, their flowers returning every year, while the lives of those who planted them had changed so drastically.

  “They’re beautiful,” Spencer said.

  I could feel silent tears running down my cheeks. It was unspeakably thrilling and terribly sad to be here, but it wasn’t the emotional tornado I’d been afraid of. It didn’t bring me to my knees. Regret and loss were heavy in the air, but so was the peaceful beauty of this place and the nostalgia I held for it. I pointed to a spot in the wood beside one of the first floor windows.

  “See that?” I asked.

  Spencer squinted. “What? That round dent?”

  “I did that with a baseball.”

  He grinned at me. “You threw a baseball at your house?”

  “Not on purpose. My dad was trying to teach me how to throw a curveball. It curved a little too much.”

  “And so your dreams of becoming a major league pitcher were dashed.”

  I chuckled softly. “And see that over there.” I pointed to the marks beneath Emma’s old wi
ndow. “There used to be a white trellis that ran from the window to the ground. Emma’s dreams of partying on school nights were dashed when she tried to sneak out by climbing down it.”

  “What happened?” he asked, looking up at the window.

  “She fell off. The sound of her howling in pain woke us all up.”

  Beside me, Spencer was trying not to smile. “Was she okay?”

  “She sprained her ankle and delayed her bad reputation by a year or so. My dad blew a gasket and ripped the trellis down the next day.”

  “You and your sister were always so different,” he mused.

  “My mom said Emma took after her and I took after my dad. Apparently Mom did her fair share of partying in school too.” I chuckled, trying to picture it, and Spencer laughed.

  My lingering smile faded as I wiped at my wet cheeks. “Have you ever gone back to see your old house?”

  He turned to me and nodded. “I went the first time Uncle Jackson asked me to use his truck to run errands. I only had a learner’s permit, but he didn’t care. It was three months after my mom died, and I was in serious denial. A part of me was hoping I’d find my parents there. I’ve been back a few times since then. Looking to feel a little closer to them, I guess.” He squeezed my hand and looked down at me.

  “Did it work?” I thought of how I could feel my father here in town at different times. “Did it make you feel closer?”

  Spencer’s Adam’s apple moved up and down. “Sometimes.”

  “You still miss them, though. That never goes away, does it?” As I watched him, I couldn’t imagine losing both my parents. I might not have been close to my mom, but I still had her in my life.

  “It gets better the more time that passes,” he said. “But it’s always with me.”

  “You once talked about getting swallowed up by your grief. Do you still feel that way? Is that why you named your band Swallowed?”

  His focus sharpened. “You remember that?”