Toward the coast.
I winced, my whole body jolting as the red coupe struck Dad’s Honda Pilot head on, tossing him into the right lane. Into the path of a white pickup truck.
The tide pool went dark, water swirling until a hospital ICU appeared.
Face bandaged, Dad lay in a hospital bed surrounded by dozens of monitors, hospital staff buzzing around him. Perched on his bandaged face was some sort of mask and tubing, mechanical whoosh and click of a machine beside him. I looked away, the sounds making my skin crawl.
The machine was breathing for him. Breathing for my dad.
“No...NO!” Tears flooded my face as I took a step backward. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. None of it.
“There’s more,” said the Sentinel. She ran her index finger through the image, stirring it until the view widened. “Two in the white truck.”
In the next room lay two young men, faces bandaged, bodies braced, casts wrapping legs and arms.
I leaned forward, trying to see their faces. Couldn’t.
“Who are they?” I asked, watching the Sentinel’s expression.
Her moon-bright eyes dimmed a little, sea spray misting her face.
“I’ve seen many things along this coast.” She walked around the handful of shallow tide pools at her feet, motioning toward the nearby homes. “Generations of you repeat yesterday’s mistakes, take stupid chances, refuse help. Leaving behind confused and grieving survivors who brave the fog and chill to make a wish—and weather its price.”
She was beside me now, compassion in her eyes as she touched my cheek, her skin smooth and cool like the underside of my pillow when I flipped it over in the middle of the night. In a moment, her hand fell to her side and she walked away from me, back toward the rocks.
“Let’s begin then.”
She summoned an ocean wave that rose above her head in a sparkling arc, flowing around her into a chair. A throne. She snapped her fingers and the wave froze in place, in mid-swell. The Sentinel sat down on the frozen wave, leaning back against its translucent surface, elbows propped against sea foam arm rests.
The Sentinel sang a haunting soprano melody that lit the surf with eerie aqua brilliance. As her final note floated ashore, tiny purple and orange lights twinkled like fireflies across the sand and tide pools.
Clusters of green anemones glowed as tiny purple crabs skittered along the sand in glowing trails of light. I leaned closer, mesmerized by the glossy starfish molded like colored clay along the craggy sides of rocks. Dozens of vibrant purple starfish covered the rocks, a handful of brilliant red ones draped over rich brown ones. A single orange starfish pulsed with electric light, a bright flame against the water’s luminous aqua glow.
“How did you know to come here?” the Sentinel asked.
Retrieving Grandma’s pearl pin from my pocket, her last gift to me, I held it out to the Sentinel. It was my most prized possession.
“Grandma Viv told me stories about the Sentinels’ magic and wishing on starfish at ebbtide,” I said, the silver pearl pin cold against my bare hand.
The Sentinel smiled, her eyes misting as she ran her finger across the pearl pin. “Grandma Viv.” She studied the pin in silence, her expression faraway. Finally, she looked at me. “Granting a wish has a price. What will you pay for this wish?”
“I can pay you,” I said. “I have almost a thousand dollars in my savings account. And Grandma’s pin. It means so much to me.”
The Sentinel’s expression was like granite, a wave of her hand setting images in motion across the tide pool.
“So you think a bauble will pay for a human life?”
Her tone made my heart sink into my stomach as I watched watery images of the ICU.
“It’s all I have.”
“Is it?” the Sentinel asked, shaking her head. “Grandma Viv didn’t explain very well, did she?”
I just shrugged.
“Only a true sacrifice can pay for this kind of wish.” The Sentinel leaned forward, studying my face.
She moved toward the images playing across the clear water. With a flick of her index finger, a watery doorway rose from the tide pool, beckoning me forward. She took hold of my arm and together, we walked through the glistening doorway.
Blips and beeps mixed with the steady murmur of voices as the world became scalding white chaos. Held back by medical skill and a little luck. Click of shoes against white tile floors, flurry of nurses, doctors, and paramedics ebbing and flowing through the white and glass space. Stinging scent of germicide. Flashes of color—like starfish in a tide pool—softened the whiteness: blue scrubs, red, purple, and green.
As the door closed behind us, the hospital ICU ward came into sharp glaring focus against the roar of noise. Dazed, I hung in the doorway of my dad’s room, staring at the jumble of monitors and tangle of people keeping him alive.
From that doorway, I felt his distance. My heart twisted into a knot. He was leaving.
The Sentinel’s tug on my jacket startled me. She pulled me away from him, through the wall, toward the two people in the white pickup truck.
I floated beside the bed of the man on my left.
“Blood pressure’s falling,” said a nurse beside him.
Beneath the swelling, bandages, and braces, a tanned square hand poked out from underneath the white sheet. My heart shattered as a tiny black tattoo came into focus. An infinity symbol. On his left index finger.
A sob broke through my silence as I stared at my left hand, at my own tiny infinity symbol glaring back from my index finger.
Zac! I couldn’t breathe. That’s why he hadn’t texted me tonight.
“No!” I shouted at the Sentinel as an alarm screeched. “No! You’re tricking me!”
“He’s coding,” said a nurse in green scrubs, others moving toward the bed.
The Sentinel pulled me out of the room as the ICU team went to work on Zac. She pushed me toward the dark, watery doorway—away from Zac—and I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t stop her.
Zac, my eighteen-year-old boyfriend. My love. My world. My infinity. Was dying just like my dad.
And I could only make one wish.
For what felt like a lifetime, I lay in the sand beside the tide pool, vivid orange starfish an arm’s reach from me, fog thick, wind wild—the tide still out. I only had until the last ebbtide to make my wish. And pay its price.
One wish. Dad or my boyfriend. Make no wish and I lose them both.
The Sentinel sang to the lonesome, alto notes echoing across the mist from the south (her lover) and I couldn’t help but wonder what she said to him.
Was she enjoying this moment? Separating other lovers to ease her own pain? I wanted to shout my rage across the beach and its winding footpaths, shattering every dark window. I came here to save my dad, not to lose my boyfriend. Much less make such a horrible choice.
“Time’s fleeting, Emma,” said the Sentinel, pacing around the tide pools. “Make your wish while you still can.”
“And the price?” I demanded.
“A wish on an outgoing tide must bring something of equal weight ashore when it returns.”
I lifted my head from the sand, staring into the pool’s mirror calm as tears funneled down my face. This wish—and its price—would break my heart into a million shards. I glared at the infinity symbol so stark against the glimmering lights. Mocking me.
Infinity. Zac and I got these tattooed a month ago, pledging a lifetime together. Infinity lasted a month. Thirty lousy days.
I hated the Sentinel! I was glad she was trapped in stone, missing her lover. I smashed my hands against my face. I couldn’t make this choice—couldn’t pay this heinous price!
“All I have to give is my love for Zac,” I said, glaring at her. “Like you don’t know that.”
“Hurry, Emma. Make the wish.”
Shaking with grief, I pressed my hand against the cold, lumpy orange starfish.
“Please,” I w
hispered. “Save my dad.”
“And the price?” the Sentinel asked.
“My love for Zac,” I said, my voice breaking, the words a blade through my heart. “My relationship.”
“Are you certain?” the Sentinel asked. “I’ll only ask you once.”
I held my breath, the starfish icy against my hand.
I was giving up fourteen months of loving my Zac: celebrating with him when he won State in swimming, crying with him in my arms at his mom’s breast cancer diagnosis, grieving together when Grandma Viv died. Giving each other our v-cards.
He was my best friend. My first and last thought of the day. How did I give up one of the best parts of my life? I smashed my eyes closed, trembling now.
How could I look into his eyes without seeing my dad’s death?
“Yes,” I said with a hiss, tears dripping across my lips and down my chin. “I hate you.”
The orange starfish burst into flame, writhing into an orange fireball that shot across the night sky in a shower of sparks.
In a flash, the Sentinel disappeared and Haystack Rock went dark as fog thickened across the now-dark beach.
The infinity symbol on my index finger ignited in blue fire, roiling across the sharp black ink, turning it to ash as my memories of Zac began to disappear, ash mixing with tears that trickled like black ink down my fingers. Pooling on the outgoing tide.
Kissing behind the bleachers at his swim meets, smell of chlorine against his warm, buttery skin. Holding me up as they lowered Grandma’s coffin into the ground, Zac’s silky voice soothing like my favorite jeans fresh from the dryer. Making love in a tent under the stars, his heart beating against mine as he said I love you, wild rhythms entwining like the flutter of kite strings on a windy Oregon beach.
Memories, sensations—moments—ebbing with the tide as my heart shriveled into a smoldering ball of pain.
Exhausted and heartsick, I wrapped my arms around my knees, pressing my face into my sleeve, and cried. For what seemed like hours, sand clinging to my face and hair, waves lapping at my boots. Dark sky growing lighter.
Until the tide began fluttering in like feathers against the cold sand.
“Em, don’t try to move. I’ve got you.”
Dad’s frightened face hung over me, the sky a pale blue-grey.
I stared up at him, my face twisting into an anguished mask, fresh, hot tears spewing down my face again. Saving my dad at the price of my boyfriend was too much. I wanted to die.
“You’ve been out here all night. Mom and I have been worried sick.”
A red fleece blanket enfolded me, my teeth chattering so I hard I thought they’d break as Dad lifted me from the cold, wet sand and ran with me toward the house.
Inside, it didn’t take long for my numb skin to turn to fire as Mom and Liv peeled off my cold, soaked clothes and wrapped me in blankets. Everything burned and ached as my half-frozen body began to warm up.
Dad was beside me on the burgundy couch, stroking my kelp-encrusted black curls as he wrapped me in another blanket and set a warm mug of hot chocolate with a motherload of marshmallows on top of the table. His mouth quivered as he pulled me into another hug, pressing his face into my sandy, salted hair. He smelled like cold and sweat. The house’s sunny yellow walls, oak floors, and red-brick fireplace felt drafty. Empty. Despite my family crowding around me.
“Why didn’t you answer our texts?” Dad asked in a quivering voice. “I’ve been searching for you all night, Em.”
Liv leaned against the doorway, staring at her phone. She glanced over at me through dark curly bangs and rolled her eyes. “You’re the obedient daughter, remember? I’m the one who gets in trouble for staying out all night,” she said and returned to her phone.
I just cried on Dad’s shoulder, hating myself for what I’d done. What I’d lost—no, given up.
“Here, Emma,” said Taylor, patting my leg. Slinging a long lock of black hair off her shoulder, she handed me my cell phone in its turquoise paisley case, blue cable trailing off it. “I plugged in your charger for you.” Taylor being her helpful, caring self.
My phone was filled with dozens of text messages. It vibrated twice in my hand and I glanced at the screen, expecting a text from Zac. But I’d given him up. I sucked in a breath. I’d never see another text from him again. I stared at my index finger, the infinity symbol gone now. Like Zac.
I threw my arms around Dad, burying my face against his chest.
Oh, Zac—it hurts so bad.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, Em,” said Dad, rubbing my shoulders. “I’m fine. It was just a horrible, random accident.”
Accident? I sat up, staring at him. What accident? Hadn’t my wish erased the accident? Did Zac and his brother still die?
“How’d it happen, Dad?” Taylor asked.
I held my breath.
“Car jumped the median and collided with a white pickup truck. I think you know one of them, Em. They both went to your school.”
I nodded.
“Missed me by an inch,” Dad continued, holding up thumb and index finger. “Hit the truck. When I got to the truck, the younger brother—curly blond haired one—had a major artery bleed.”
I gasped—Zac!
“The other brother was in bad shape, too. Conscious, but trapped in the truck.”
Cooper, Zac’s oldest brother. I pulled away, anxious to hear the rest.
“I tied off the bleed,” said Dad, staring at his hands now. “Kept him from bleeding out until the paramedics arrived. Doctor said he’d have died quick if I hadn’t been there. Good thing I was there.”
My heart hammered in my throat. Zac would have died if—the realization hit me like a truck—if Dad hadn’t been there. If I’d chosen Zac, I’d have lost Dad and Zac both. Even if he couldn’t be part of my life anymore, at least he was still here.
It still hurt, but I smiled.
“Life’s a precious gift, Emma,” the Sentinel whispered in my ear.
My phone lit up, a text message scrolling across the screen. From the Sentinel?
Sometimes saving it comes at a terrible price. Like a desperate mother begging a wish from a sea witch—at a terrible price.
What was the wish, I texted.
Saving my daughter, the Sentinel texted. To heal her, I had to give up what I loved the most. Being her mother. Healing her required me to give her up. But I didn’t know the magic was cursed, that it would separate my husband and me for eternity. In stone.
My heart sank, a chill shuddering through my chest. Had I been cursed, too?
I’m sorry, I typed. Have I been cursed, too?
I gave you a piece of myself to protect you from the curse.
I shook my head, typing, I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you just escape?
Because my daughter loved you. My daughter, Viviana. Your grandmother, Em.
What? I typed. You’re my great-grandmother??? What did you give me??
Yes, Em. Viviana’s pin was forged with my magic, the pearl spun from it and the songs I sing every night across the water. To my husband and my daughter. Viviana carried the pin for a long time—until she gave it to you.
What is the pearl? I typed back to her.
The most powerful magic I possess—my love. Love never dies. When you free it on the tide, it washes ashore again.
My heart twisted into a knot. The Sentinel had been trying to help me all along. She—and Grandma Viv—taught me a lesson about love I’d never forget. Someday, when the pain of losing Zac wasn’t so raw, maybe I’d be able to love someone again.
I wiped tears from my eyes and rose from the couch. The landline rang. Taylor answered it and handed it to Dad.
“Yes, this is he,” said Dad, pacing, cordless receiver pressed against his ear. “So glad to hear that. Glad you’ll both be all right...yes, I’m fine. Just fine. Uh huh...yes. Oh, yes, of course.”
Dad handed the receiver to me.
I frowned, putting it to my ear. “Hello?�
�
“Uh, hi—this is Zac Riley. We go to Hamilton together.”
Chills danced along my skin, my heart beating so fast I thought it’d explode. Zac, my beautiful, goofy, amazing Zac! I bit my lip.
“Yes, of course, I remember you. I’ve seen you swim a million times.”
“You have?” he said.
God, I sound like a total creeper now. “My friend, Ava’s on the swim team.”
“So, when I realized it was your dad who saved Coop and me, I wanted to uh, see if we could hang out sometime.”
“I’d love to, Zac,” I said to him, feeling the shards of my heart rasp against each other, drawing back together.
As Zac’s voice thrummed in my ear, I heard ocean waves crash onto the shore, the tide returning, the Sentinel’s song in my ear. Loving. Forgiving.
Turquoise Trail
Diana Deverell
Diana Deverell provides our second ghost story, and it’s about as different from Annie Reed’s as possible. Diana, a finalist for mystery’s prestigious Macavity Award, generally writes mysteries and thrillers, and her previous stories for Fiction River have appeared in Pulse Pounders and Justice. Her most recent novel, Help Me Nora, features a woman ex-con turned appeals lawyer.
This story contains the suspense of Diana’s mysteries, but with a different twist. She set “Turquoise Trail” in New Mexico because, she writes, “even a skeptic like me can imagine a wish coming true in that magical landscape.”
I hopped off the school bus step and onto the dusty highway shoulder. Sun glare slapped my face and I got a whiff of myself.
I reeked.
I’m fifteen and the same evil gene that forces me to shave every day has also given me what my pediatrician calls “mature body odor.”
Pinning my arms to my sides to lock in the stink, I trudged toward the co-op gallery where my mom manned the cash register on Fridays.
My curly brown hair stuck to the back of my neck. Bristling beard stubble made my chin itch.
Fiction River Page 21
