Seven Tears into the Sea (16 page)

It took me only a second to notice the mother swallow duck into her nest.

With a cruel smile Zack crossed my yard and stood under the nest. I heard rustling, as if the swallow was sheltering her young.

It was easy to understand why he was acting this way. Who'd protected him, after all? Now he was tough and determined to prove it. But his memories of me were making things worse. I was the one—the girl—who'd hammered him with her fists and chased him up to the road.

Perch crowded close to the nest. Rising on his toes, he
curled one hand as if he'd flick the brittle mud nest, but Roscoe shouldered him aside. He reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans.

“Gwennie?” Jesse stood tall and tense, but I wasn't going to urge him into a fight he might not win.

I heard the snick of a match being struck and smelled sulphur. Roscoe tossed the match toward the entrance to the nest and missed.

Enough. I stood up.

Be cool,
I told myself. Get hysterical and all of this stuff quaking under the surface will erupt.

“I know you're not setting my house on fire, Roscoe.” I got right in his face, and he backed up a step then looked at Zack.

Zack glanced toward the Inn. My front porch was visible from there, if anyone was looking.

Without his go-ahead, Roscoe wasn't sure what to do, and then Zack just wandered away. He walked on the deck around the side of my cottage.

What was he doing? It took me a few seconds to decide, but then I followed in time to see him looking up under the eaves over my kitchen window. He must be searching for another nest, but I couldn't help thinking of my first night in the cottage.

What if the movement at the kitchen window hadn't been just my reflection?

Roscoe came around the corner with another lit match
then swore and dropped it when it burned his fingers.

Dumb as a rock, I thought, and this time Zack agreed.

“Put 'em away,” he said, jostling Roscoe's arm.

Then Zack spotted my spider's web. For a minute it looked like he was just going to drag his fingers through the sticky strands. And I'd let him. He wouldn't try to touch her, and she could rebuild her web.

But just as I started to breathe, Zack took the matches from Roscoe.

She was just a spider, but I wouldn't let him burn her alive.

Through his black shirt I saw Jesse's chest rising and falling. He kept cocking his head to the side, trying to see my eyes.

I didn't believe he could read my mind through them, but just in case, I kept my back to him. I couldn't let him know I was scared. If he didn't notice how my hands were shaking, everything would be all right.

“Hey,” I said, before he struck the match. “You know how Thelma and my grandmother are. They're watching me night and day. If they see fire here, they'll call out the volunteer fire department.”

Zack shrugged as if he didn't care, but he shoved the matches into his pocket.

I thought they'd leave then, and they might have if Jesse hadn't come to stand beside me. I welcomed him, even wanted to lean against him, but I didn't. Zack's
stare told me that would only cause more trouble.

Neither Zack nor Jesse said a word, but Roscoe scented trouble.

“Haven't seen you around much, Jesse,” Roscoe said.

“Oh, Jesse?” Zack pushed a clump of shaggy blond hair back from his eyes. “He's a ladies' man now. Oh yeah,” he said. Glancing at me, he must have seen I thought he was talking about Jesse and me. “Saw Jesse and Jade just the other night goin' at it.”

And then Zack did this gross thing, grabbing the air in front of him at hip height before thrusting his hips forward with this disgusting, grinning grimace.

Jade?
Jade,
pierced and pink-haired, and too cool to sell me her earrings? That Jade? I turned my head slowly to stare at Jesse. He had the nerve to smile.

“Speakin' of cows, you shoulda seen the one we found out on the beach,” Perch said.

I assumed Perch was talking about a woman, until Jesse got mad.

“At the cove?” Jesse asked, and then I knew they were talking about a sea lion.

You can't feel another person get gooseflesh, but Jesse was standing close enough that I swear I felt heat ripple over him.

Zack sensed it too, and he was smart enough to rescue Perch.

“She was already dead,” Zack said.

Jesse's shoulders sank away from his black hair, and his muscles relaxed, I could imagine every one of those muscles, since he'd held me against them last night.

“I guess you don't remember, Jesse,” Zack said.

He must have noticed my jealousy fading before he was through working on my feelings.

“I bet he hasn't told you what kinda here-today-gone-tomorrow guy he is.”

“No, and I really don't care,” I told him.

“This is boring,” Roscoe said, looking around at my cottage.

Perch was going back for another look at the swallow's nest when Roscoe stuck out a leg and tripped him.

“Spaz,” Roscoe laughed, but then Perch grabbed his ankle, jerked, and Roscoe lost his balance too.

“That hurt, man,” Roscoe moaned.

Would they ever leave?

Every ounce of will I had was pushing them away. I think the only thing holding them there was Jesse. They didn't want to hang out with me, but they didn't want to leave me to him.

Once Roscoe and Perch stood up though, Zack started moving toward the driveway.

Gumbo picked that moment to jump up inside the window ledge and growl. All four guys turned.

Amber eyes glittering, she growled as she had our first night in the cottage. Black, orange, and white,
back arched and fur fluffed, she was impossible to miss as she fixed them with a glare.

“What's that?” Zack asked.

“My cat,” I said. I didn't try to make him feel dumb for asking. I didn't even want him looking at her.

“Does it come out?” Roscoe asked, rubbing his hands together. “Let it out.”

“She's a house cat,” I said. “And she bites.”

Zack was grinning as he pushed Roscoe and Perch back down the path to his truck. Then he looked back and blew me a kiss.

We watched the green pickup drive out of sight.

“The girl named Jade,” he began.

“I don't care,” I told him.

I just wanted my cottage to myself. I wanted him to go, so I have no idea why I asked, “Do you want to come in for a soda?”

“I'll come in and see your cat,” he said.

“Okay, but she's not very friendly.”

Jumping down from the window and pattering straight to Jesse, Gumbo proved me a liar. She rubbed her side against his jeans then arched her back for his touch.

“She's a
nice
cat,” he said reproachfully.

I opened the refrigerator, took out a cold soda can, and popped the top, then looked back.

“Sure you don't want one?”

Jesse shook his head then made himself at home. I'd never had a real boyfriend, but I didn't think they usually sprawled on your couch the first time you invited them in.

Still, I liked it. Gumbo leapt up beside him. He stroked her throat while she closed her eyes in ecstasy.

I could hear her purring from the kitchen, and I wanted to do the same thing.

Jesse's quiet strength had kept me calm out there. And if I'd whimpered even once, he would've beaten Zack bloody. I just knew it.

As soon as I raised my focus from the hand stroking Gumbo to Jesse's eyes, I saw him watching me.

“Come swim with me,” he said.

“I can't,” I said.

“Does your leg hurt? Do you have to work?” He teased me with my own excuses, and I guessed he didn't have to be a mind reader to know I was lying.

“I'll go tomorrow, I promise. I'm just not ready today.”

He laughed.

You don't always notice the first time for things. Or the last.

Just as I couldn't miss our first kiss though, I couldn't miss the first time I heard Jesse laugh.

His full-out, rolling laugh reminded me of a wave smacking the shore then chuckling over small,
rounded rocks. Suddenly it was my favorite laugh in the world.

I couldn't stay away. I meandered toward the couch and looked down at him.

“You're always ready to swim,” he said, struggling to sit up without displacing Gumbo. “You don't have to do anything!”

“Tomorrow—”

He took my hand and pulled me toward him. I bent from the waist until our faces were just inches apart.

“Why would you put it off, Gwennie? If you wait another day it could be foggy. It could rain. There could be a red tide.”

What was a red tide, anyway? Some kind of plankton die-off?

“That's not going to happen,” I said, shaking my head hard enough that the braid I'd pinned up for work came bounding down and grazed his cheek.

“I could be gone.”

The power trip, I realized, had just changed from mine to his. I didn't want him to leave, and he knew it.

“It's just swimming,' he promised.

Oh my gosh. His voice was like melted chocolate. So were his eyes.

I waited for him to kiss me, and then I thought maybe he's waiting for me. But the moment had spun
out just a little too long. Nervous, I bit my lip, and the movement was enough to make my braid wag. Gumbo took a swing at it.

I heard my own uneasy laugh as I stepped back.

His eyes still clung to me. There was time to save this moment if I only knew how.

“Where do you live?” I asked him.

Jesse's eyes turned wary.“Offshore,” he said.

“Like, on an island? On a yacht?”

In one fluid movement he put Gumbo aside and stood. This time when he wrapped his arms around me, I was too aware that I came just up to his shoulder. Too aware that we were in my cottage alone. Too aware that I'd said no to swimming only to maintain a bit of control.

Jesse sighed like he was about forty years old. He flipped his black hair back from where it had fallen across one eye, and his jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth. Then with one arm still around me, he reached into the pocket of the faded black shirt.

He handed me a shell. I'm not sure what kind, though I'd once had a collection of hundreds. Hinged like angel's wings, it was cream-colored. Inside, a rosy flush was mirrored on each half.

As I stared he stepped away from me, then pointed at it with both index fingers.

“What?” I said.

“That's a double sunrise,” he told me. “It says when
we'll meet for our swim. Can you be ready?”

I would have kissed him then, but he didn't wait. He stroked Gumbo down the length of her spine, opened my door, and jumped off my porch.

I rushed to the window and stared after him. Most guys would have turned back, would have checked to see if I was watching. But Jesse never would be most guys.

Sand crunched as his long strides took him away. His bare feet pounded the hot white sand as he headed toward Sea Horse Inn. Then, as I knew he would, he turned left down the path to Mirage Point.

He was out of sight before long, but I stood there wondering. Did he scramble down the rocky path to the cove or jump the wooden fence and dive into the sea?

B
RIDESMAID
D
AISY
(Centranthus ruber)

P
roviding masses of color with a light and airy feeling, the Bridesmaid's cheeriness can be almost overwhelming to the onlooker. Still its petals are useful for plucking in romantic “loves me, loves me not” tradition, and dreams of daisies bring good luck. The bridesmaid daisy self-sows with abandon, and though its wild profusion is short-lived, it delights the eye while it lasts.

Of course I couldn't resist going down to the cove before I went back to work.

I told myself it was because Zack had been here. Even unspoken, his threat to the sea lions scared me.

The path down wasn't damp as it was in the morning, so that made the footing easier. There was still that one slick spot, but I knew to watch out for it.

Seven female sea lions in shades of dark brown, auburn, and blond, lay on the sandy beach, pups dozing beside them. The big bull was there today. His battle scars and the pronounced crest on his forehead made him look fiercely prehistoric, unlike the females, whose eyes touched mine with empathy.

They accepted the bull's bluster because he arrived
with them in May and helped protect their pups until he left. His departure could come in June, July, or August. Only he knew when the time was right.

I still hadn't seen that big black sea lion who'd given me a hard-hitting rescue. For some reason, though I only glimpsed him, I'd thought he was a young male. If so, Bull had probably driven him off.

“Looks like you guys are doing fine,” I said, and ran off to the Inn to face a full house.

Thelma greeted me with an accusation.

“The sugar bowl and the tongs have black spots,” she said as soon as she saw me. “Do you know why?”