by Rachael Wade
“You’ve been a very dirty girl this morning,” he warned, shifting to cradle me in his arms. “I think it’s time for a bath.”
“No! Don’t you dare!” I kicked my feet and braced myself for the cool water.
Jackson’s feet splashed water up and all around us, salty waves stinging my knees and face. Springing upward and onto his side, he sent us plummeting into the ocean, pulling me down with him, breaking my fall as he did. I let the waves swallow me up, bursting back over the surface with an exhilarating scream. We swam farther out, treading water but keeping our hands linked as we moved, and when our laughter subsided and breathing calmed to a steady rhythm, it dawned on me that this was happiness—being with your best friend and lover, the one who reminded you that before them, you’d been living your whole life without your other half, without someone who understood you better than you understood yourself. Being here, in the moment, alive, free, and present, made me aware.
This was not a dream of love. It wasn’t even love itself that was responsible for such an unearthly rush. It was life, and all what could be, because of that love. Life is what made the moment so vivid, so full of promise, and love was the catalyst for its joy. Why I hadn’t given Jackson his other half until now was suddenly a grave mystery to me.
Serenity surrounded us, the soft waves lapping at our chins and cheeks. Jackson’s fingers clasped tighter around my own, and the way his piercing gaze cut through me, I was thankful my body moved into auto-pilot mode and forced my legs to keep kicking, because it threatened to drown me.
“You own me,” he said, water sputtering against his lips as his head bobbed at the surface. “You have lock and key, deed to the house, the welcome mat, all that shit. It’s all yours, baby.”
“I’ll have to take good care of my property, then.”
“And I’ll have to behave on and off the premises. I may be a little rowdy, but...I’ll use my manners.”
I sent him a small splash. “No swearing, invading personal space, or forgetting your pleases and thank-yous.”
A glimmer twinkled in his irises, and for a moment, it looked as if he was the one about to drown. “Damn straight,” he pulled me against him abruptly, nose to nose. “Now please get over here and fucking kiss me.”
***
I flew through my apartment door around noon, sopping wet and wearing the same elated grin I’d worn that morning, thankful to have a few minutes to myself to bask in the cheesy post-Jackson glow. Stripping out of my wet clothes for a hot shower, my fingers found the destroyed obituary in my rear pocket. Tempted to open it despite the bleeding ink, I finally deemed it illegible and tossed it in the wastebasket. I’d have to read it on-line or get another copy from my mom. Maybe another day, I thought.
The front door creaked when I stepped out of the shower to dry off, and warm voices filled the apartment, drifting into the bathroom as they neared the hallway.
“Whit? Carter?” I called out.
“She’s home!” Whitney squealed to Carter, then knocked on the bathroom door.
I let her slip in, allowing the steam to flood the hallway while I wiped the mirror down with a towel. “Yup, I’m home.”
She looked at me curiously, her eyes squinting in suspicion. “Are you sane again? Where did you disappear to yesterday? You never texted me back.”
Carter approached the bathroom door behind her, a book held in front of his face.
“I’m dressed, Carter,” I laughed, extending my hand to lower the book.
“Well, judging by that smile on your face, I’d say you were with Jackson,” he said.
Whitney maintained her suspicious assessment for a second, then possibility swept her face. “What? You...you heard me and Carter talking, didn’t you? Or did Carter tell you?” She swung around and glared up at him, then back at me. “Were you with him? Did you tell him you love him back?”
“Maybe,” I said, the post-Jackson grin spreading from ear to ear. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t tame it. Damn, Emma. You need to get a handle on this thing!
“Annnndd...that’s my exit cue.” Carter turned on his heel to leave.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Whitney stopped him. “We’re just getting to the good stuff.”
“For you girls, yes. For me, not so much. This is where the juicy details come in. I know how this stuff works. My best friend Kate used to try to spare me from those details. Now that she knows I’m desensitized, she’s merciless when she talks about Ryan. I know more about that guy’s penis than I do my own. So I’m outta here, and you girls can have your little moment. Carry on, lovelies.”
“Party pooper,” Whitney chided, pushing him in the other direction. She gripped me by the arms and squeezed. “Ahh! You’re back, I can see the life in there again.” She hugged me with a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank God, Em. You gave me a few gray hairs this week.”
“I know, I know. Thank you for being there for me while I dealt with everything. I know it’s going to take some time to keep...healing. But I feel a weight lifted, facing it all now.”
“Good, I’m so glad to hear that. You have no idea. I can’t believe you went to see Jackson...I didn’t want you to go. I was so livid with him about Casey—”
“It’s okay. It’s water under the bridge.”
“Um...you’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “he explained to me where his head was when he made that decision, and I believe him. He really didn’t think there was any chance for us, and when I showed up on his boat...”
“Oh, God. So you’ve been to his boat. You know about the apartment, then?”
Chewing my lip, I considered blurting out the truth—that Jackson wasn’t really evicted from his apartment over rent—but decided against it when I recalled his feelings about everyone knowing the real reason for his decision. “Yeah, he told me everything. But he’ll be okay. He has plans.” What those plans consisted of, I wasn’t sure. But the fact that he had his mind made up to save some money meant he must’ve had something lined up. I found myself wishing I would’ve asked him about it, but we’d been pretty preoccupied. “Anyway, I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, Whit.”
“See what?”
“How good he is for me.”
She smiled thoughtfully. “I think Jackson was like a lost puppy. He needed purpose, someone to believe in him and love him despite his bullshit. But he didn’t have that, so he just went around humping everyone’s leg and peeing everywhere. Then you came along and he thought he found that owner that would give him that purpose—something that would make him feel needed—but you chose the fancy pet store puppy instead, so he went back to peeing on everything and destroying all the furniture.”
“Um, Whit...is there a point to this?”
“We all need someone to believe in us. It helps us see our full potential. You were that someone to believe in him. I think he’ll be a new man because of it.”
“So you’re saying I rescued a lost puppy, and now he’ll become a topnotch show dog because I’m just so amazing?”
“Exactly.”
“You have such an eloquent way with words.”
“No shit, right?”
“Precisely.”
***
Whitney huffed under her breath, adjusting her bright green bikini top. “I swear, if that damn ball hits me one more time, I’m going to—”
“Easy there, princess,” Jackson quipped, plucking the volleyball from her lap. He tossed it in the air and spiked it back over to the net. His feet kicked up sand as he moved to stand in front of me. “Emma, why don’t you take Ms. Grumpy Pants somewhere to clean something? That should make her feel better.”
Whitney lifted her sunglasses to glare at him. “Let me tell you something, you—”
“Sure, Jack, why don’t you help us?” I cut her off before she spawned another shouting match. Over the past few weeks, their fighting matches had escalated. I guessed it was likely due to the fact that Jackson and I were i
nseparable, and Jackson’s joy in life was irritating the crap out of her. But it probably also had something to do with Whitney’s current soap opera episode with Ruben and Carter.
She’d been extra edgy since Ruben finally came around and realized he wanted to be with her, only it was too late. She’d found herself enamored with Carter, and just as I suspected, Ruben suddenly wanted what he couldn’t have. I was surprised that Carter and Ruben were getting along so well, but I attributed that to Carter’s peacekeeping persona. Even when provoked, he was a rock, always determined to stay out of the drama. It also helped that Jeff and Jackson knew how to keep Ruben’s smart mouth at bay when he started taking too many jabs at Carter.
“Help you clean?” Jackson grinned, eyes lighting up. “Sure, baby. I’ll clean your pipes anytime.”
I stood to my feet, my hands on my hips. He strutted toward me, bending to peck me on the lips. “You’re asking for trouble, Jackson Taylor.”
“Oh, yeah. Lots of it.”
Whitney made a gagging sound behind us.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“I’ll bet you can guess what I’m wishing for right now.”
“Whitney,” I turned on my hip to glance at her, “cover your ears. It only gets worse from here.”
She shot up from the blanket and started strolling toward the volleyball net to join Jeff, Ruben, and Carter. “Well, then, let me make it easy for you.” She winked and smiled, and I focused on Jackson again as she disappeared.
“You love running her off, don’t you?” I poked his hard, tanned stomach, smirking up at him. “Always looking to pick a fight.”
“If it means getting you alone, I sure do, Pumpkin.” His hand found the curve of my back and I leaned into him, the warmth from his chest settling deep in my bones.
“Hhhmmm,” I sighed. “You smell so good. Like saltwater, coconut, and sweat.”
Rubbing his thumb against my lower back, he ran his tongue across his teeth and smirked. “You like that, do you?”
“I love it.” I traced his collarbone with my index finger and followed the trail, kissing each spot.
“Mmmmm, your kisses feel so good.”
I reached on tiptoe to plant one on his chin.
He took my hand. “Come on, let’s ditch. What do you say we drive into town? I want to show you something.”
“Oh? Okay. I guess I’ve had enough sun for the day.”
“Me too. Let me grab my stuff.”
We dried off, threw on our clothes, and said goodbye to our friends, hopping in Jackson’s truck just as the afternoon rain clouds started to roll in.
“I just have to make a few quick stops on the way,” he said, buckling his seat belt. Thunder cracked in the distance and the rain began; hard, heavy drops splattered against the windows and plummeted onto the hood of the truck as he switched on the windshield wipers.
“So, where to?” I zipped up my white hoodie and threw a towel over my legs to warm them from the cool rain. My damp hair tickled my neck so I twisted it up in a bun, eyeing the gloomy horizon as we crossed the Sanibel causeway to leave the island. “We’re going to Fort Myers?”
“Yeah, I have an errand to run.” When we reached the end of the causeway, we pulled into a small shopping plaza parking lot. “But first, stop number one.” Jackson opened the passenger door and helped me down out of the truck, taking my hand to lead me toward a small ice cream parlor.
“An ice cream date?” I asked, my voice perking up.
“An ice cream date,” he replied, pleased with himself.
“How...traditional of you. I’m impressed.”
“I haven’t had much practice with traditional.” He pulled me tight to his side so we were hip to hip. He stopped us just outside the front door, leaning down to kiss me. “These past few weeks have made me crave all sorts of traditional with you.”
Something inside me twisted, an overwhelming mixture of crippling joy and pain, and the thought of facing Jen’s obituary—something I’d continued to put off over the past few weeks—crept up on me with strange urgency. Since Jackson and I decided to be together, I found the more time I spent with him, the less I felt the need to revisit or explore my past, and the less I wanted to read it. Being around him made me think of nothing but the present and the future. That dead weight I’d grown so accustomed to after Jen died seemed nonexistent, almost pointless when I realized that Jackson was right that night in Pete’s parking lot. He’d told me it wasn’t my fault—none of it was. How and why she passed away was not a result of anything I’d done, and he’d been so patient in allowing me to realize that.
Yet discontentment prickled my skin, knowing I was still at fault for something else entirely. I was a coward and I was selfish, and those were weights I was meant to bear.
“Let’s go,” Jackson said, catching my distant gaze. It swept over me and turned me cold all over again, rendering the work I’d put into warming up in the truck useless. “Chocolate with sprinkles,” he told the man behind the counter once we were inside, “and cherries, and nuts...and just all that shit right there.” He pointed to the whole ice cream topping bar with a shrug, leaving the cashier a bit perplexed as to how to ring him up. The man started jamming buttons faster than he could keep up, the register’s ding sound sparking echoes in the small shop.
“Jack, I don’t need all that,” I whispered into his shoulder, working to cover my grin.
“I know, that’s mine. Takes them forever to make, so I ordered it first.” He waved to the cashier again. “Uh, and just plain vanilla with hot fudge for her.” One final ding rang from the register, and Jackson paid the man. For a split second, I wanted to offer to pay, knowing Jack’s financial situation, but held my tongue, figuring it would hurt his pride.
Then it dawned on me. Jackson hadn’t talked much about his financial situation since he moved to live on his boat. “Hey, baby?” I asked when we sat down to eat our ice cream. The front of his shirt already revealed a dribble of red, gooey sauce and colorful sprinkles. “So what have you been saving money for, exactly?”
“I’m not sure yet. I have a few ideas.”
“What kind of ideas?”
He held my gaze for a moment and then looked down at the table. “I don’t know, maybe get a house, do something...different.”
“What was wrong with your apartment? Didn’t you like the place?”
“I did. Things change.” He cleared his throat, standing to grab some napkins from the counter. I watched him stuff a handful of them into his pocket, and I took small spoonfuls of my ice cream and mashed them around in the bowl. “How goes the school search?” he asked when he returned to the table. “It’ll be the New Year before you know it. Don’t you have to make a decision soon if you want to continue classes next fall?”
“Yeah, I’m just weighing my options. I still haven’t heard from my first-pick university, though. Guess I’m secretly holding out on it.”
“It’s not really a secret.”
“Huh?”
“Everyone knows you’re still banking on that school in Washington. It’s not a secret.”
“Oh.”
His tone softened and he reached over the table to squeeze my knuckles. “I hope you get in, Em. I hope you get everything you want. You deserve it.”
“Thanks, Jack. That means a lot. I hope so, too.” Squeezing back, I smiled. “I’m already halfway there.”
The next stop after the ice cream parlor turned out to be the florist. I waited in the truck, toying with my Kindle while Jackson ran inside. The rain continued to drench the windshield, breaking my concentration. I turned off the Kindle and shoved it in my bag, wondering what had brought on Jackson’s change in mood back at the ice cream parlor. He’d turned sullen, almost disengaged, barely saying a word since the time we left to drive to the florist shop. I mentally picked through our conversation, trying to pinpoint what could have brought on the shift.
Maybe mentioning his money situation struck
a chord. Hearing about my potential out-of-state college plans could’ve dampened his mood, as well. No, I thought. It was too soon to be thinking like that. We could cross that bridge when we got to it. If I did leave the state, it didn’t mean we’d have to break up. And besides, I’d already allowed a relationship—or the ending of one—to get in the way of my academic plans once before. Been there done that. It wouldn’t happen again. Jackson and I would just have to find a way to make a long-distance relationship work, if that were the case.
“Okay, off we go,” he said, ducking from the rain and into the truck. He set a large bouquet of lilies and irises onto the seat between us, a sad smile on his lips. “This isn’t exactly romantic, but it’s Sunday. Sunday’s my day to—”
“Oh, of course,” I said, remembering his mother’s favorite flowers. “It’s okay, I’m happy to go with you.”
“You sure?” He started the engine.
“I’m positive. I’m honored you’d take me to see her...I know it’s a personal thing.”
“Thanks, Em.”
The cemetery was bathed in broken sunlight, the clouds from the afternoon rainstorm choppy and cracked, sending the light filtering through their fluffy puffs of gray. The flowers in one hand and my arm in the other, Jackson led me to a shaded plot, tucked away beneath a large oak tree, on the end of the lawn. A weeping angel statue hovered over Sara’s stone, its arms clasped together and thrown forward, extending out, as if to cover the grave below. The angel’s long, curled stone locks rested wistfully against her collarbone, her wings spread wide, their ends sagging slightly, carrying the weight of her grief. Somberness trickled over me, tangling me in its rough web, and the pang in my chest forced me to stop walking. Jen’s grave was on the island’s cemetery, not here, but it had been a while since I’d visited it. Jackson visited his mother’s every week. What did that say about me?
