Surfacing

by Masters, Cate

  From the kitchen, cabinet doors thudded, water gushed and dishes clattered.

  After awhile, Grandpa stood in the doorway. “There’s roast beef. How about a sandwich?”

  “No thanks.” His voice sounded as small as when he was seven.

  “I bought it special for you.” His tone had a teasing quality, edged with a reminder his grandfather was on a budget, and AJ should appreciate the gesture.

  “I’ll eat later.” His nerves jangled in his arms and legs, his head buzzed, allowing no thought.

  “You had a big day. You rest.” The old man turned toward the hall.

  “What time is it?” He shouldn’t have come right home. He should have gone for a walk, done anything but lie here and make the minutes seem like infinity.

  Grandpa paused. “Almost seven-thirty.”

  God, another two hours yet. He’d go insane, waiting. The need to see her grew like an infection, a fever, a disease. Overpowering his sense of reason.

  What if she didn’t come tonight? What if he’d hallucinated her into being this afternoon? She couldn’t possibly be real.

  “Son, are you all right?” The concern in his grandfather’s tone heightened his tension.

  “Fine. Just exhausted. And wired.” He knew he must look as insane as he felt, staring wide-eyed, unblinking at the ceiling as if it were the most intense thing he’d seen in his life.

  He should tell Grandpa–everything. About what happened today, what he and Chaz planned for tonight. But he might try and talk him out of going. Or worse, laugh at him.

  Nothing could stand in his way.

  His grandfather moved away from the door.

  AJ couldn’t wait here one more minute. He grabbed his guitar and headed out the door, saying a quick goodbye without checking whether the old man was even in the room.

  He called Chaz on his cell. “I’ll meet you at the bridge. I had to get out of there.”

  Chaz said to meet him at nine instead, so they’d have more time to work out details.

  AJ closed his phone and slipped it in his pocket.

  Those eyes. All he could see were those eyes, right in front of his face, looking into his. He didn’t care if she dragged him to the bottom of the ocean. If he could die in her arms, looking into her eyes, he’d go willingly.

  And her lips! Like nectar of the gods. As addicting as crack. He needed to feel those lips on his again. He couldn’t tell Chaz about her lips. Then Chaz would want her for himself.

  He’d figure all that out later. He needed Chaz’s help to catch her, to be with her, see her whenever he wanted.

  Without realizing, he’d walked to the rocks on the Gulf shore. He stared out over the waves crashing against them. They were rough tonight. He closed his eyes and let the foamy spray cool his face, calm him. He sat with his guitar, picking notes but not playing anything, until his song formed beneath his fingers. He shut his eyes tight, let the melody take shape in his mind, without thought. It flowed smoothly and carried past the point that normally frustrated him.

  It came to him, fully. Finally. He sang it, and the chord change didn’t hang him up this time. He played right through. It sounded amazing. The best song he’d ever written. He played it again to ingrain it in his memory. And again and again, until the light faded from the sky.

  “Yes. I knew it would be excellent, I knew it.” He dropped his head back and laughed at the sky. The dark sky.

  What time was it?

  He pulled out his cell phone. “Ah, dammit.” Eight fifty-nine.

  Pushing himself to his feet, he slid the guitar strap around his chest. As frantic as he’d been to get there before, now he was filled with a strange calm. Tonight might provide the key to something. As much as he hated to allow Chaz any credit, the dude had a weird sense for things.

  He dialed Chaz again and started inland.

  “Wait,” a girl said.

  His foot slipped on a rock as he absently glanced back, then chided himself. No one could be out there. No one was on the beach, though. Not one person. Slowly, he stepped toward the water.

  The face staring at him from beyond the rocks looked familiar and yet not.

  Chaz answered, but AJ couldn’t speak. He flipped the phone shut and stared. “You’re here.” He’d been going to set a trap for her at the bridge.

  Her dark hair pooled around her shoulders. “And so are you.”

  Her skin glowed like creamy moonlight. Her eyes glistened bright as stars in a night sky. She looked like an angel. Maybe she was. Even in the gathering darkness, she looked more beautiful than it seemed possible.

  His cell phone rang. Chaz’s number showed in the display. “Ah, damn.” He couldn’t ignore it.

  “Hello. Yeah, sorry about that. I just… ran into somebody I know.” As his gaze met hers, her face alighted with a smile.

  “I can’t make it tonight after all. I know, sorry.” He pulled the guitar strap away from his shoulder and set the instrument against a rock, willing her to stay where she was, willing Chaz to shut up. He couldn’t hang up, and risk Chaz coming to look for him.

  Chaz threatened and pleaded, whined and cajoled.

  “Look, we’ll go some other time. I’m wiped out. I can’t think straight. I sure as hell can’t play.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her soft lips curled into a teasing smile. Her bright eyes following him intently.

  Still Chaz argued.

  AJ stepped closer to her, afraid she might make a noise Chaz could hear, but unable to stay away. He stood close enough for her to touch him, if she wanted. To grab him and take him beneath the waves.

  “Look, I said not tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He powered the phone down and crouched more quickly than he intended.

  In an instant, she slipped beneath the water.

  “No.” He peered into the waves, made his voice calm. “Come back.” He leaned far out over the rocks, but the dark waters revealed nothing. “Please.”

  The outline of a face appeared in the ripples. Her wide eyes looked into his.

  In a hushed tone, he urged, “Please, come back. It’s all right.” He crawled backward in hopes she’d follow.

  Her head broke the surface, then her shoulders–such gorgeous shoulders, and arms thin yet muscular.

  He kept his voice low. “Please stay.”

  With a swoosh, she plunged up and sat on a rock. “Only if you play a song for me.” Her hair clung to her chest, covering her breasts.

  His heart pounded against his ribs. Was he dreaming? Could she be real? He had to keep her here long enough to find out.

  “Sure. I love to play.” Scrambling to his guitar, he threw the strap over his head and strode toward her.

  As she watched him, she braced her hands against the ground with a wary expression.

  So as not to alarm her, he halted. He held out a hand in caution, then pointed to a nearby rock. “There?”

  Surveying the area around her, she pointed to one closer to her. “There.”

  Something moved through him, like music reaching a crescendo. “Got any requests?” He sat, his fingers on the strings.

  His question had been facetious. He hadn’t expected her to know any titles, certainly nothing contemporary.

  Her eyes widened. “I like so many songs. Beatles, Stones, U2, Pearl Jam…”

  His mouth fell open in a laugh. “How do you know Pearl Jam?”

  “I’m not a cave dweller. I come up for air.” Insult edged her voice, but it turned wistful as she went on. “I hear music on boats, coming from houses along the shore, or restaurants.”

  He had a feeling of floating as he studied her. God, she was incredible.

  She braced her hands beneath her. “So do you know any Pearl Jam?”

  Think, AJ. Pearl Jam. “Yeah.” He tuned his strings. Not looking at her helped him focus. Once he got a song in his head, his fingers took off from there. And he sang, eyes closed. The only way he’d be able to remember the lyrics. Or to keep singing. Words f
ormed on his lips, something about a light and holding his baby in his arms. He made it through the song, only having to fake one line. The strings resonated with the last chord. He opened his eyes, afraid the rock she occupied would be empty. His nerves untangled as he saw her, more vibrant and alive than anyone he’d ever known.

  Leaning toward him, she listened in rapt attention. His music had kept her here. “That sounded nice. Play something else.”

  His nervousness bubbled up in a laugh. “OK, U2? Anything in particular?”

  “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” Enthusiasm made her voice throaty.

  Really? “That’s a classic. I’ll have to improvise the drum intro.” He thought for a second, then hit the heel of his hand against the wood of his guitar as his hand banged the strings, creating an echoed beat. An excellent sound. He’d have to remember it. His torso rocked with the music as he sang.

  Only once did he open his eyes, to check she still sat there. Her eyes shone in the darkness, an appreciative audience. If only she were as captivated as him. He’d play till his fingers bled if that’s what it took for her to stay.

  Request after request, he performed each song, relaxing after the first few to let the music get inside him, lead him to its heights. The more he got into the music, the better she liked it. Imperceptibly, his body strained toward hers, so that he found himself on the next rock closer. She’d moved closer as well.

  As he leaned his head down over his guitar at the end of a song, her fingers moved toward his guitar strings as they vibrated with the end of a song. Her touch was so light, the strings still resonated with the notes, moving up the neck of the guitar and down.

  Still as a statue, he watched her hand glide toward his, then hesitate.

  Her gaze flicked to his. “I’ve always wondered what it felt like.”

  When he was eleven, he’d wondered the same thing. It had been easy for him to convince his mom to buy him a guitar. But she couldn’t just ask for a guitar and get one. How would she even play it? “What do you think?”

  Her voice came as a rush of breath. “It’s wonderful. It must be incredible to be able to make music like that.”

  “It is.” People always told him he had a gift. It never felt like one until now.

  Her hand hovered near his.

  “Go on.” He wanted to feel her skin, her fingers wrapped in his, but dared not move.

  “I don’t know how.” Her smile was shy.

  “I could teach you.” He shimmied toward her, so slowly he hoped she wouldn’t mind.

  She sat as still as him. “You could?”

  “Here, hold it. Get the feel of it.” He slid the strap from around him and lifted the guitar toward her, arching an eyebrow in question.

  Her face told him she wanted to take it, but she looked at him with suspicion.

  He nodded toward shore. “I’ll go down there, if you want. And I’ve never trusted anyone with my guitar before.”

  A smile lit her face.

  He held it closer. “Come on, try it.”

  “For a little while.” She took the guitar from him and held it against her chest. The thrill of seeing her hold it made it more precious to him than ever.

  “Like this?” She poised her hands awkwardly at either end.

  “Exactly. Wrap your fingers around the neck, press down on the strings and use your other hand, in a downward motion.” He motioned, afraid to actually touch her for fear of startling her.

  Her fingers on the strings, she strummed an awful sound.

  Frowning, she laughed. “Eww. Ow.” She looked at her fingertips.

  “It takes awhile to get used to the strings. See?” He held out his calloused fingers.

  She ran a light touch across them, sending a thrill down his spine and through his stomach.

  A breeze rippled through her hair. She lifted her face to his, then scanned the stars. “I have to go soon.”

  “No.” He pressed toward her, unable to hold back.

  Still as a rock, her eyes widened, but not with fear. With something like pleasure. Her smile teased. “I’ll come back.”

  He reached toward her, let his fingers drift near her arm. “When? I’m off tomorrow, maybe…”

  Her gaze followed the movement of his hand. Her full voice softened. “I’m not supposed to come up during daylight.” Her pinkie lifted toward his fingers.

  An invitation. His heart thudded against his ribs, expanded his chest to bursting.

  He let his fingers hover near hers. When their fingers connected, prickles shot past his callouses and up his arm. “But today–”

  Mischief infused her smile. “I said I’m not supposed to. They say it’s dangerous.” She entwined her fingers through his.

  Her palm against his ignited the prickles to liquid fire. “But you disagree.” He liked a girl who thought for herself.

  She squeezed his hand. “Yes. I like to observe people. Try to learn about them.”

  He would love to teach her everything he knew. And she could teach him, too. He inched closer.

  “I could come back tomorrow night,” she offered.

  His brain screamed for him to make her promise, pledge on her life she would return. She owed him nothing.

  He owed her everything. “Thanks for saving me today.”

  She tilted her head, as if awaiting his kiss. “I couldn’t let an alligator devour such a talented singer.”

  It took all he had not to cup her face in his hands, press his mouth against hers. He began to speak, to call her name, then realized he didn’t know it. “What’s your name?”

  “Cassiopeia.” She said it as if it were a curse.

  “Like the constellation.” Her eyes were a constellation in themselves. “I’m AJ.”

  “AJ. What is that for?”

  Oh, he wished she hadn’t asked. How he hated his full name. “Andrew James.”

  With a half-frown, half-smile, she repeated, “Andrew. Like the saint?”

  He grinned. “Lots of people would argue against that.” How did she know about saints?

  She lifted the guitar toward him. “Tomorrow night, then. Another lesson.”

  “Yes.” Whatever she wanted. He took the guitar from her. She laid her palm against his cheek, and his body went fluid at her warm touch. He let out a long breath.

  As if gliding, she moved into the water, and looked back at him once before slipping into the sea.

  His legs shot him toward her, stumbling over the rocks. “Hurry back.”

  The waves lapped against the rocks, stars glimmered overhead.

  Tomorrow night. The wait would be an eternity.

  Chapter Eleven

  Yesterday’s despair equaled today’s euphoria. All day, AJ went through old set playlists in preparation for tonight, singing each tune to himself, pretending he sang to her. By late afternoon, he’d put together a series of ten songs he thought she would like, in the order he would have played them onstage. One song flowed easily into the next.

  Grandpa opened his bedroom door. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Yeah, in a bit. I have to finish.” Jotting the last song on his list, AJ grew more excited than if he were playing a real gig.

  “Finish what? Are you going to waste your day off playing your guitar?” Grandpa rested his hands on his hips, as unhappy with AJ as always.

  There was no way to explain to his grandfather the importance. The urgency. “It’s not a waste. I’m a musician, Grandpa. I’m not going to be a damn Wilderness Cruise captain forever.” For minimum wage, he wanted to add.

  “Well excuse me for finding you gainful employment, young man, just when you were at the pinnacle of your musical career.” His emphasis of the word pinnacle was meant to insult, injure. Assault.

  Defeated, AJ set his guitar on the bed, his hand across it. He hadn’t set it down all day. The thought of her holding it made him feel closer to her. Her enthusiasm was the push he needed. The push to really focus on music again.

  He m
et his grandfather’s gaze head on. He kept his voice low and steady. “You know I’m grateful. But my music is everything to me.”

  His grandfather heaved a sigh. “Your grandmother loved music a great deal. You must have inherited her genes. It’s not nearly as all-consuming to me as it is to you.”

  “But you love to sing.” His grandfather didn’t sing often, but when he did, the lyrics came alive in the rich tones of his voice. He didn’t merely sing a song, he lived it. Owned it as if he’d written it himself.

  Grandpa’s dark eyes gazed out the window, toward the Gulf. “I used to.”

  The connection was never clear until now. His grandmother had loved music. Since her death, music brought Grandpa pain, not enjoyment. The night the radio played Elvis’s Harbor Lights, Grandpa had been moved to bittersweet tears.

  AJ stood. “How about we go out for a beer? We could both use a change of scenery.”

  His grandfather’s glare softened. “You’re right. Give me five minutes.”

  “Give me fifteen. I haven’t showered yet.” He couldn’t show up tonight with the smell of this place on him.

  In record time, he showered and dressed. In the car as Grandpa drove, AJ’s mind raced with flashbacks of last night. Her fingers on his. Her beautiful face, so ethereal. And Pearl Jam! And saints–how did she know all this stuff?

  Grandpa’s gruff voice startled him. “You’ve been grinning like a damn fool all day.”

  Unable to sit still, AJ shifted his legs. “Have I?” He tried to blank his face of emotion, but it kept bubbling forth, a wellspring of elation.

  His grandfather stared ahead, but AJ felt the weight of his attention. “You know you have. Why?”

  The sun glared like the spotlight of the Inquisition. He flipped down the visor. “I met a girl, that’s all.”

  “A girl.” Grandpa spat the words. “Don’t lose your head, son, or you’ll lose everything else along with it.”

  “Come on, Grandpa. You know what it’s like to be in love.” As soon as he said it, he was sorry. His grandfather had lost his one true love.

  Grandpa grunted. “You’ll find out about love.”