Beyond the Rising Tide

by Sarah Beard

  My eyes open to a dark room, and the image of the boy’s hand is still branded in my mind. My heart is racing, and I find my own hand clutching my blanket, like I’m still trying to hold on to him. I try to calm my breaths and force my fingers to unfurl.

  There are some details of that fateful afternoon that I keep to myself. Like him tying the leash around my wrist. And him holding my hand. Because they’re sacred to me. And I don’t think I can share them without betraying a truth that I keep hidden deep inside.

  That I love him.

  I can’t tell anyone that, because they’ll think it’s ridiculous. They’ll say I can’t love someone I don’t even know, someone I’ve only spent twenty minutes of my life with. But what nobody realizes is that I do know him. I learned everything there was to know in the short minutes we spent together on my surfboard. He was selfless and brave, caring and strong. The best qualities a person can possess. And the bond we forged in that small space of time was stronger than any other bond I’ve made. Because no one else has ever sacrificed so much for me.

  A subtle light pours into my room from the hallway, and soon I feel the give of my bed. I turn to see Dad sitting on the edge, the remnants of his blond hair sticking up in all directions. “Bad dream?” he whispers.

  It’s then I realize I’m crying, and although I wasn’t making much sound, it was enough to alert him. It takes me a minute to find my voice, and when I do, it comes out with a pathetic vibrato. “I should have wrapped the leash around his wrist.”

  “Avery—”

  “No—he wouldn’t have died if I had. I wasn’t thinking. At least not about anything but myself. There was plenty of leash. I could have—”

  “Stop.” His voice is gentle, but there’s enough authority in it to quiet me. “What you’re doing right now is unproductive. It won’t change anything. All you’re doing is punishing yourself.”

  When someone causes the death of another human being, they’re punished. They go to jail, sometimes are even executed. Why shouldn’t I be punished too? I don’t say this to Dad, I just lay there quietly for a few heartbeats, grappling for the remains of my memories of the boy. But I may as well be trying to hold on to wisps of smoke. An angry tear escapes from the corner of my eye. “I need to find out who he was, Dad.”

  “You’ve explored every avenue.” He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to drive yourself nuts looking for something you’ll never find.”

  “No—there has to be something I’m missing. Some little detail I’m forgetting that will help me figure out who he was.”

  Dad is quiet for a long moment, then says, “Avery, I know we’ve talked about this before, but—”

  “I’m not going to see a counselor.”

  He releases my hand and folds his hands in his lap. “I think someone would be able to help you.”

  I shake my head. “The only thing that will help me is remembering what that boy looked like. Figuring out who he is. Letting his family know what happened to him. A counselor can’t help me with that.”

  Dad sighs. “Maybe they can. And … it seems like you have a lot of emotions to work through. I wish you would talk to someone about what you’re feeling.”

  “Well, a complete stranger is the last person I want to open up to.”

  “Sometimes a stranger is the best person to open up to. There’s no risk, no judgment.”

  I slowly sit up and look into Dad’s eyes. “I’m too afraid,” I whisper.

  He knows exactly what I’m talking about, because he says, “If you see a counselor, it doesn’t mean you’re going to end up like your mom. It doesn’t mean you have mental illness. It just means there are some knots in here”—he taps his temple—“that you can’t quite untangle.” He smooths out a wrinkle in my blanket. “But you know what? Even if you were like your mom, there’d be nothing wrong with that. I love your mom. She’s funny and full of life. She has so much love in her heart. And when she shares it with you, there’s no better feeling in the world.”

  His voice reflects his pain, and I reach out to touch his arm. “What happened yesterday? Did you two talk?”

  “We didn’t really have a chance. She had me fixing things all day. First it was the broken light bulb, then a leaky pipe in her bathroom. Then it was a squeaky door hinge and a sticky kitchen drawer. She made me lunch and ordered pizza for dinner and kept me working all day. Every time I would go to leave, she’d think of something else for me to do.”

  I lay back down. “Sounds like she misses you.”

  “She’s just lonely.” He sighs. “But I miss her. I wish she would come home.” He looks at me for a long moment, and then reaches for my hand again. “I love you. You know I’d do anything to help you, right?”

  I nod. “I love you too, Dad.”

  He sits there quietly on the edge of my bed holding my hand, the dim light of the hall illuminating the lines of his face. Neither of us says anything else, and I can tell from the sad crease at the side of his mouth that he’s still feeling Mom’s absence. I give his hand a little squeeze, and he squeezes back. The small gesture connects us, allows us to share our sorrows without words. For the moment, my hand is his anchor, and his is mine, and the comfort it gives calms me enough that I fall back asleep.

  When I wake up again, there’s a different boy in my mind. A boy who stays up late to help a friend make chocolates, who wields a guitar like a knight wields a sword, who sings haunting and lovely lyrics that echo in my ears long after the song is over.

  He’s probably working right now, and I have to work today too. But I have an overwhelming desire to see him, to find out what happened to him last night. Maybe he saw me with Tyler and assumed we were working things out, so he didn’t feel the need to stick around. I just hope he didn’t end up walking all the way home, that he caught a ride with someone.

  If I go see him now, he’ll probably ask about things I don’t want to talk about, like what happened with Tyler. I don’t want Kai to know that everything fell apart, especially after he went to so much trouble. But the thought of not seeing Kai this morning feels unbearable. So I get up and shower, throw on a blue sundress and Converse, then get in my car. I stop at the chocolate shop to pick up a gift for Kai and tell Paige I’ll be in later, and then I head to Isadora’s vineyard.

  y chest feels heavy when I come out of the cottage in the morning, though I can’t pinpoint exactly why. Maybe it’s the mounting guilt of breaking rules and of taking something that doesn’t belong to me. Maybe it’s my looming departure from the living world, the knowledge that the sounds of the tide and the scents of the earth will soon be barred to me again. But I think it has more to do with Avery, because it’s her that I can’t get out of my mind. It was her face I saw before I fell asleep last night. It was she who inhabited my dreams. And it was the desire to see her again that woke me up with the sun. My time with her will be over soon, and the weight of her coming absence is already threatening to crush me.

  I’m dead, so I should be the one haunting. Instead, Avery haunts me. I smell her scent even when she’s not beside me. I hear her voice echoing inside my head long after she’s gone. And when I’m not looking, she moves things around inside the chambers of my still heart.

  It was too much to see her with Tyler last night out on the deck, and as much as I wanted to wait for her, I couldn’t stay to hear her say the words: that she and Tyler were back together. I guess it’s what I want for her because it’s what she wants. But that doesn’t make it any easier to take.

  The air is warm and humid, and I follow a path through the fragrant lavender field where bees are busily gathering nectar, moving from one flower sprig to the next. I pass through a wooden swinging gate into the vineyard, and the land slopes downward into green rolling hills folding into one another. Beyond the hills, a sparkling ocean stretches to the horizon. The vines are as tall as I am, clad in wide leaves and green clusters of budding fruit. Morning dew clings to the leaves and gras
s at my feet, making the vineyard smell like fresh rain and earth. It makes me think of the vineyard in Marquette, and how I would give almost anything to reclaim the life I had there. Only, it was a life without Avery. And even though I know I can’t be with her, I wouldn’t give up knowing her for anything.

  I see Isadora at the end of the row, her golden retriever, Dacio, trailing her. She’s in a colorful muumuu and bare feet, and she’s ambling down the row, her hands exploring the newly pruned vines. I meet her halfway, and she looks up at me with milky eyes.

  “You did good,” she says with a smile. “Now if I only had a crew to follow through until harvest.”

  “Why don’t you hire help?”

  She shakes her head. “No one can take care of the vineyard like Miguel. And it’s hard to trust new people when you can’t see their faces.” Her hand finds my face and pats my cheek. “I can see you, though. And you are someone to trust.”

  “I wish I could stay longer,” I say, and I mean those words more than she can possibly comprehend.

  “That is okay. When I leave here, and go to Miguel, my vineyard will go to someone else. And they can do what they want with it.” She waves dismissively and continues down the row, touching the leaves and humming to herself. Dacio licks my hand and then trots after her.

  I go to the shed for some wire, then return and start repairing places where the support wire has broken or become loose. As I’m working, a light breeze rustles my hair, and the sun on my back suddenly burns warmer. I feel a presence behind me, and I know who it is even before I turn around.

  “Kai.” Charles’s voice behind me is gentle, but it pierces me to the bone, because I know now with certainty that my time here is over.

  Avery will never see me again. I only hope I’ve done enough to help her. I inhale deeply, smelling the damp earth and reveling in the breeze on my face one last time.

  “What are you doing?” I can hear sorrow in Charles’s voice, confirmation that I’ve let him down. I never cared what anybody thought of me until I met him. Because I knew that he truly cared about me, and still does. So it’s torture to turn and face him.

  He’s outlined by a white aura, because it’s his soul I’m seeing, uncovered by flesh and bone. His blue eyes are as soulful as ever, the wrinkles around them heavy with sadness. He walks over to me and lays a gentle hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eye, directly into my soul. “Why?” he asks simply.

  I lower my eyes to escape the intensity of his gaze. “I’m sorry. I needed to help Avery. It just … it hurt so much to see her like that. And I felt responsible. I had to do something.”

  Charles drops his hand and looks around, as if he’s only now noticing where we are. “And what are you doing in a vineyard?”

  I tell him how I needed a place to stay, and about Isadora’s generosity. Then I say, “So, what happens now?”

  “If you give me back the ring and come with me now, nothing. No one on the other side has to know.”

  I consider, but I can’t come back now, not yet. Avery still needs my help. “And if I don’t?”

  “Kai, please. You’re placing me in a very difficult position. You’ve taken my ability to fulfill certain assignments. And now that I know you have the ring, I’m breaking a rule by allowing you to use it.”

  I let out a long sigh, realizing for the first time that my choice has affected more than me. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” I know I should take off the ring and hand it back to Charles. But then I think of Avery, of the torment on her face when she opened up to me in the chocolate shop, and I know there’s more to heal than just her relationship with Tyler. “I need a little more time.”

  “Sometimes when we think we’re helping people, we’re really hindering them. Avery is stronger than you give her credit for.”

  “I know she’s strong. But she doesn’t seem to know.” I shove my hands in my pockets and give a weary sigh. “It’s my job to heal people, isn’t it?”

  “It’s your job to heal physical ailments and injuries. But emotional healing isn’t that simple. It takes time, willingness, and work on the part of the person being healed, and a greater power than you possess.”

  I look down and kick the soil with my flip-flop. I know from experience that he’s right. Even now, after my death, there are emotional wounds I’m still healing from.

  “Your intentions are noble. But this is dangerous. If she finds out who you are—”

  “I know the consequence. And I’ve been careful. She won’t find out.” I press a hand to my forehead to ease the pressure building there.

  “If she does, not only will you lose your healing power and be banned from Earth, but it may only deepen her wounds—not to mention cause irreparable emotional and psychological damage.”

  “That won’t happen,” I say again, enunciating each word slowly. “I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to help her. And I’ve already seen a difference. A new light in her eyes.”

  My words appear to worry him more than reassure. “Have you even considered what the punishment might be if you’re caught wearing a ring that isn’t yours?”

  I have wondered, but figured asking would give away my plan. “What is the punishment?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m sure it’s steep.”

  I picture Avery, the carefree way she smiled at me in the chocolate shop yesterday, and measure the worth of her happiness. “Whatever it is, she’s worth it. I died for her, and if given the chance, I would die for her again. I know I can help her. And if I have to pay another price for it, so be it.”

  Charles’s face turns firm. He steps toward me and holds out his hand. “Kai, I’m not giving you a choice. There’s too much risk for too many people. Hand over the ring, and come with me now.” He stares at me for a long moment, waiting. And then his eyes shift to something over my shoulder, his face slackening.

  I twist around, and there’s Avery standing at the end of the row, framed softly by vines and the morning sun.

  She’s far enough away that I don’t think she heard me talking, but I can’t be sure. Time seems to slow as she moves toward me down the alley of vines, the way it does when you’re intensely studying something and trying to commit it to memory. She’s wearing a sky-blue sundress, and the fabric at her knees flutters with each step. Her wavy hair hangs over one shoulder in a loose ponytail, and her hands grip a little white box. When she’s at arm’s length, she stops and greets me with a shy smile.

  “You found me,” I say. Then remembering Charles, I twist around to introduce him. But he’s gone. And I realize that even if he were still there, she wouldn’t be able to see him. I don’t know where Charles went, but I have the feeling he’s still watching me.

  She offers me the box, the same type we filled with chocolate-covered fruit the night before. “This is for you,” she says. “For helping me last night.”

  I accept it soberly, because it feels like a going away present, one I can’t even take with me. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t eat it all in one sitting. Especially if you’re lactose intolerant. But if you’re not, then well … just pace yourself.” Her lips quirk into an adorable smile, and she looks up at me, waiting for me to smile in return. But I can’t. Not when I feel like I’m sinking with a boulder chained to my ankle. She bites her lip and shifts her feet, like my graveness is making her nervous. “So … what happened to you last night?”

  What happened? I fell entirely and completely in love with a girl I can’t have. I watched her kiss a boy who doesn’t deserve her. I hitched a ride home with a stranger and lay in an empty room, trying to remember how to breathe. But I don’t say any of this. I just give her the clipped version. “I left.”

  She takes a deep breath, and it seems to calm her a bit, because her feet stop doing the two-step. “How did you get home?”

  “I caught a ride with some guy … Jason, I think. He said it wasn’t out of his way, so …”

  “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
<
br />   Because to watch you with Tyler would have been like drowning all over again. “Well, from the look of things, I thought you’d want to stay with Tyler for longer, and I was pretty tired.”

  “You could’ve at least told me you were leaving.” From the agitated way she’s looking at me, she’s clearly upset.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt. How did it go, anyway?”

  She takes a handful of her skirt and fidgets with it. “What can I say? Your plan worked.”

  “So … you’re back together?”

  She shrugs, then gets a faraway look on her face, as though she’s replaying the night before. “He kissed me,” she says absently.

  “Yeah—I saw that.”

  She sighs, and her face clears. “And then his mouth got in the way.”

  I don’t know if she means that he’s a messy kisser, or if he said something dumb. Knowing his history, it was probably the latter. “What do you mean?”

  She opens her mouth to answer, then closes it. She shakes her head. “Nothing. To be honest, I’d rather talk about you.” The line between her brows deepens. “That song you sang last night … it was beautiful. Did you write it?”

  It takes a minute to purge the image of her and Tyler kissing from my head before I can answer. “Yeah. Kind of in the moment, actually. I mean, the lyrics have been sort of rolling around in my head for a few months, but last night was the first time I put them to music.”

  She gapes at me. “What are you doing working in a vineyard? Shouldn’t you be off in New York or LA or wherever, signing a music contract and recording an album?”

  I shrug. “That was the plan.”