by Wendy Delsol
“This is it.”
“What are we doing here?”
He scratched at his head. He was capless today. I liked it when he was capless. He wore an old blue T-shirt so faded whatever team or business it had supported was no longer legible. It clung to his ropy shoulders, which were taut, seemingly with purpose. “It seemed like the right place for part of what I want to tell you.”
“For part of?”
“Let’s walk.” He opened his car door, and I did the same.
We came to the edge of the parking lot and crossed a small grassy area. Several benches lined the edge of the small clearing with a view out to the lake. He sat, as did I.
“I had to go away for a few days,” he said finally. “To sort a few things out.”
“Oh.”
“It’s just . . . after the whole thing with Wade, I didn’t trust myself.”
“Or me?”
He turned to me quickly. “Is that what you think?”
“You made it pretty clear.”
He lowered his head into his hands. “No. I didn’t. I screwed it all up. Would still be screwing it up, if it wasn’t for Pedro.”
“Pedro?”
He lifted his head and dropped his hands to his lap. “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t stop calling my house. Finally showed up last night, uninvited. Wouldn’t leave until I saw him. Wouldn’t leave until he put my cap in my hands.”
“Your cap?”
“You called it lucky.”
A light flutter began in my chest. “I did. I know it sounds crazy, but I think it was.”
“You don’t know how much that meant to me. I’d been convinced of the opposite.”
“The opposite?”
“Yes. Of being some sort of curse.”
“How could you think that?”
“Because ever since you’ve come back, I’ve been half-crazy: confused, distracted, and a mess of emotions. And you have to admit, when we’re together, wild things happen. So when the whole thing with Wade came up, the fact that his hatred of me was all the more reason to hurt you, it was some sort of last straw. And I just couldn’t stand the thought of him touching you, hurting you. I lost it. I’m sorry, but I did. I snapped.”
“I thought you were mad at me. For lying.”
He spun wildly to face me. “Mad at you? No. I was mad at him, and myself, but not you.”
“But you just took off. You could have called or something.”
He placed a hand over mine and traced light circles with his thumb. “I was in a bad place. I needed to sort some things out. Besides, I’m not really a phone guy.”
“I’ll say.” I felt suddenly dizzy, and a small spasm racked my shoulders.
“I made things worse. I know that now. And I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. For lying. I was ashamed of my behavior. I made a big mistake and I just wanted to bury it.”
“Not such a big mistake,” he said, dropping his other hand over mine. “Wade has a way of manipulating people. You figured him out a lot quicker than most. I’m just sorry he hurt you.”
“For the record, Wade didn’t hurt me; I hurt him. Got him good. It stopped there.”
“That’s my girl.” He pulled me into a hug. “I knew it. Anyone who could survive what we did could take a punk like Wade.”
“He apologized, you know. He now says there never were any pictures.”
Jack ground something at the base of his throat.
“He says you’re on his sorry list, too.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Jack said.
I didn’t want to talk about Wade, or think about Wade. I settled into Jack’s embrace. He held me like that for a little while, and then pulled me to my feet.
“Come on, let’s go down by the lake. I’m not done yet.”
There were a dozen or so wooden steps leading down to the water’s edge. He held my hand as we crossed a muddy flat area adjacent to the beach. It was mostly a pebbly shore with several large rock formations to our left. A wooden pier, now vacant for the season, led out to the tinny gray waters. Jack led me to one of the larger rocks, which provided a flat surface and view. We both sat for a few moments taking in the scenery. I closed my eyes and could picture it cloaked in snow, the lapping waves frozen in time, and the chill air ringing with the voices of skaters and the slap of hockey sticks.
“You wore a red coat,” Jack said, pulling me from my reverie.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything. All of it. I want to tell you, if you think you could stand to hear it.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
He looked at me with an odd expression, tentative and probing. “You might think I’m crazy.”
“Trust me,” I said. “I’m not one to throw stones.”
He hunched his shoulders and looked out to the water. “I’d never seen you before, but the moment you stepped onto the ice, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I’d never seen hair so blond, or skin so white, or any girl so pretty, ever.”
I gulped. It was wake-the-baby loud, but Jack just continued.
“I was twelve and had never really taken an interest in girls before, but this hit me like a bolt of lightning. I followed you around the ice for a good half hour, but you were completely oblivious. When you skated off to be on your own, it felt like you’d taken the sun from the sky.”
Oh, my. His voice was intense and he was still looking out over the water and away from me, as if he couldn’t bear to look me in the eye. “I didn’t notice you,” I said honestly.
“I know. It didn’t matter. I was smitten.” He rolled his eyes and looked at me sheepishly, obviously embarrassed by his word choice. Then he just kind of shook it off and continued, “I stayed on the side of the lake closest to where you had gone off to twirl and jump. My friends were angry that I’d left our hockey game. I didn’t care. I heard the ice crack and knew immediately what it was. You were gone in an instant. Nothing but a vertical slab of ice bobbing in your place.”
I scooted closer to him and put my hand in his. It was warm. He wore no jacket, as usual, and I felt the heat of his body as I drew myself next to him.
“I was to the spot where you’d last been in a dozen strides. I could see your red coat deep under the surface. You were thrashing underwater. I dove headfirst without thinking of anything but staying close to the girl in the red coat. I got to you in just a few kicks. I was upside down, just as I’d dived, and I’ll never forget the look of panic on your face as I drew near. I righted myself next to you, which was right when it started to feel like my chest was going to explode. I took your hand. You’d lost your gloves, and your skin was so cold I almost thought it was too late. We kicked to the surface. I held your hand as tight as I could, pulling you up with me. When we got to the top, we hit solid ice. We’d drifted from the hole. I had no idea which way to go. I felt along the ice for what seemed an eternity, but it was frozen solid. There was no sign of movement above. I didn’t even know if anyone had seen either of us fall in. And then we started to sink. You were so still and resigned, but your eyes held on to mine with such intensity. I thought my lungs were going to explode. I thought we were going to die. I thought we were going to go to heaven together. I remember thinking that you looked like an angel with your hair fanned out around your face.” Jack turned to me and stroked upward from my chin, tracing the line of my jaw.
I couldn’t help myself. “I’m nobody’s definition of an angel.”
“You may be mine,” he said. His fingers trailed over my earlobe and then down the tendrils of my hair. “How’re you doing?” he asked. “Am I freaking you out?”
“Fine. And yes.”
He laughed and then leaned in and kissed my neck. It was our second kiss. Yes, I was counting. And no, I didn’t want it on the neck. “Do you want to hear more?”
“We live, right? Because it’s not looking very good.”
He laughed again, and I knew in that instant it was a sound I wouldn’t w
ant to live without. “We continued to sink. It was almost like floating. We held hands and gazed at each other intensely. You were so peaceful, so accepting, until I felt a calm come over me. My chest stopped hurting and we both stopped kicking and we were just kind of suspended there looking at each other.”
“And then what happened? Are you sure we live?”
“You closed your eyes and I thought you died. It was like dying myself. I felt hopeless and angry. And then you reached out your other hand, the one that wasn’t holding mine, and closed my lids. I reopened them, but you shook your head at me, all the while not opening your own eyes. Within a moment or two, I could hear something around us. Murmurs, or whispers. And then I didn’t need to close my eyes anymore, because something wrapped around them from behind: a leaf or cloth. I couldn’t tell what it was. I felt no pain and no fear, but I was aware of the passage of time. I knew we’d been under for a long time, too long. And then something encircled me, from under my arms, and we were gliding effortlessly and upward. We still held hands, and it was all that kept me from kicking to be free of whatever had taken hold. We came up in an entirely different section of the lake from where we’d gone down. That’s one of the mysteries of the event. No one knew where or how we’d surfaced. The rescuers were looking for us clear across the ice. You were frozen, wracked with chills. I managed to call and wave to someone. And then we were descended upon by a mob of people. They pulled you away from me. All I could think was that they had no right. And then you were gone. I was told I couldn’t see you in the hospital; you were too sick, in a coma. And then they took you back to LA, and all we ever heard was that you had some sort of trauma-induced amnesia.”
Jack stood and pulled me to a stand. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you? I just told you I heard whispers under the water, and that something pulled us up. You’re probably thinking I suffered some sort of brain damage that day.”
“No. I’m not.”
“Do you remember anything about our time under the water?”
“No. I remember skating, and falling through the ice, and the cold, but nothing more.”
“The lake is glacier-fed, but that only explains the depth and cold. The rest . . .” He looked at me for a long time. “Have I scared you? I pretty much bared my soul just now.”
I took a deep breath. Funny how just a week ago I’d never really given the concept of soul much thought. “I’m not scared.”
“What are you?” he asked tentatively.
I moved closer to him, burying my head under his chin. “Humbled. Incredibly grateful. Flattered. And what was that word you used?” I turned my face to his. “Oh yeah, I remember. Smitten.”
He kissed me then. And on the right place this time. And his touch was anything but cold. My lips were on fire. A surge of white-hot heat coursed through me. It seemed even the weather felt the charge of our emotions. Winds whipped around us. I could feel my hair lift and fall across my face and his. It didn’t matter. I could have stayed like that forever. I wanted to stay like that forever. He was the first to let go.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asked.
How many days ago had Hulda asked me that same question? How much had happened since then? “Yes.”
“It’s hard to explain,” he said, “but from the moment I laid eyes on you skating, I felt this unshakable sense of fate, or destiny, or whatever you want to call it.”
“I know someone who calls it karma.”
“Karma it is, then.” He rested his chin on my head.
“Wow,” I said. “My head is spinning.” It was true. I could feel the gray matter orbiting behind my eye sockets, which explained my blurred vision and lightheadedness.
“There’s one more thing you should know about me.” He pulled me away and looked into my eyes. I flinched. It was pure reflex. I seriously didn’t know if I could handle anything else. Something shifted in his look; he hesitated, cleared his throat, and then said, “I’m partial to red. You don’t happen to have a red dress for the dance, do you?”
I wondered if it was really what he wanted to tell me. It didn’t seem to need that kind of build-up. Part of me was relieved, though. This I could handle. “Red?”
“Yes. And simple. Clothes don’t have to be all that complicated.”
“Red I can do. As for simple, I make no promises.”
He replied with a kind of half laugh, half groan and pushed me a few inches away from him. We stood face-to-face, with just a light wind rushing through the space between us.
“So we’re still going, then? To the dance?” I asked.
“Of course we’re going. You want to, don’t you?”
“So much has happened since you asked me, and you never mentioned it again, and then you were gone. I honestly didn’t know.”
“Now you know. And you, of all people, can depend on me.” He looked at his watch. “Almost lunchtime. We’d better head back. I’ve got to plead my case with Principal Henrich, and then with Coach Carter.”
I looked wistfully out to the lake. I knew that something momentous had happened here. Both five years ago and today. Our lives had been changed, our fates combined. And as much as I knew it was the beginning of a path together, I already felt a sort of melancholy for this place, this moment. I knew as we stood at the edge of that lake that there was no turning back. Jack and I were in it together, whatever it turned out to be.
It was so hard to go back to school and attempt anything that remotely resembled attendance. Jack’s words looped through my mind over and over. This guy, for whom my feelings had been increasing exponentially, had confessed an attraction to me, a commitment to me, which was nothing short of epic. I buzzed through what remained of the day like a drunken fool. Even a visit to the guidance counselor to discuss my unexcused absences for first through fourth period did nothing to dampen my mood.
Jack found me in the hallways between classes. I honestly don’t know if we elicited the same kind of stares and reactions. I saw nothing but him, heard nothing but him. After school he met me at my locker.
“I’m off to beg Coach Carter for forgiveness,” he said.
“What do you think he’ll do to you?”
“I definitely see a few penalty laps in my future, and I’ll probably be benched for tomorrow’s game.”
Pedro, accompanied by Penny, appeared at Jack’s side. “Dude, don’t even say it.”
Jack balled his shoulders forward. “Rules are rules. I’m prepared for the worst.”
“No way.” Pedro tugged on Jack’s arm. “Come on. You’d better be early today. And I’ll talk to Coach Carter myself if I have to.”
As Pedro pulled him away, Jack looked back at me pleadingly. I must have responded with a toothy grin.
“You’re all smiles,” Penny said.
“I can’t help it,” I said. “I’d sing if I could carry a tune.”
She giggled. “Told you he’d be back.” She tugged at my sleeve. “I like your outfit today. It suits you.”
“Thanks.” I looked down. The boots Jack had vandalized, Levi’s, one of my mom’s Nordic sweaters, and a Gap down vest. I remembered being on some sort of autopilot that morning. Fumbling around the laundry room for clean jeans and then fingering my mom’s pale yellow sweater and thinking it fit my mood.
“So, I guess you’re going to the dance. Good thing you had a backup plan for a dress.”
Yikes. A dress. I wondered how on earth I’d have time between now and Saturday to drive to a decent store. “Good thing,” I mumbled in return.
I pulled a notebook from the top shelf of the locker and stuffed it into my satchel. “My dad’s going to the game with me. You want to come with us?”
Penny scrunched her mouth to the side. “I should probably meet you there. My amma is still angry about those hats. You’d think they were the Crown Jewels the way she’s acting. And it’s weird, but she’s got it into her head that it was your idea to hide them. Why would she think that?”
I’d bee
n thinking a lot about Grim. About how mad she’d been at my first Stork meeting when I’d been ushered into the second chair. Had I not arrived, would it have been hers? Had I spoiled her chances forever? Would she prefer me out of the way — for good? And what if she really had been at the scene of the truck accident? The only things that kept the bogey in my head at bay were Hulda’s faith in her and a constant memo-to-self that Grim was Penny’s grandmother and guardian, and a Stork, neither of which she’d jeopardize for anything. I hoped. Though it was not entirely lost on me that, besides Raven, the agent of death went by the nickname Grim Reaper. “Beats me,” I said. “Parents usually like me.”
“I guess I have been a little different since I met you,” Penny said. “A little more rebellious.”
Perfect. Because the motive Grim had against me felt incomplete. Corrupter of her sole surviving progeny rounded things out nicely. “I never meant to get you in trouble.”
Penny waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t trade this last week for anything.”
Had it only been a week? Of course it had, but how was that possible? It felt as if the whole time-bending Stork phenomenon was compressing the days of the week and hours of the day even outside of council.
I closed my locker just as Wade and Monique passed by arm in arm. “Hi, Penny. Hi, Kat,” Monique said with a smile.
“So, I guess they’re back together,” I said.
Penny shook her head. “Can you believe it?”
“Somehow I can.”
“They’re like new people. Monique even spoke to me before PE today, asking me if I was going to the dance, what color my dress was, and, of course, if I’d remembered to vote for queen. Still, that wouldn’t have happened a week ago.”
“I guess a lot can happen in a week.” I thought just how crazy and true that was.
After school, I walked over to Afi’s. He went to take one of his power naps, so I tucked in behind the cash register. He left the book he was reading, Moby-Dick, on the counter. As a bookmark he had travel brochures to the Bahamas. One was for a deep-sea-fishing charter service out of Nassau. Lately, Afi had been talking a lot about missing the water. A lot for him, anyway. He’d spent the first nineteen years of his life in a small coastal village in Iceland and claimed it was seawater, not blood, that tinted his veins blue. Within a few minutes — and to my surprise — my dad came walking through the door. His collar was up, like he’d been pulling on it, and his hair was tousled, like he’d been tugging at it.
