Leap Of Faith

Chapter Six

[photo by Stephan Valentin from Unsplash ]

Leni

Anticipation wakes me early Saturday morning. The sky is just paling to a warm grey when I reach the shoreline. I peal out of my coverup and pull the elastic band off my wrist, smiling as I gather my hair. It's an odd impulse, not my usual routine. Maybe some part of me is worried Topher won't recognize me if I let my hair get wet.

Ha. Unlikely. How many giraffe-tall women with freakishly pale eyes could there be?

I wrestle my curls into a top knot anyway, wade into the dark water and sigh. No more tight skin. No more itch that seems to come from some unfathomable cell level.

There was a time when I shared Dee's unwavering acceptance of my "differences" and even some of the awe. I would go back to that mindset if I could. I'd gladly let go of the questions—and the "obsessive need" to find my birth family. I bend my knees, letting the water coast over my shoulders. The waves are unusually calm—even for early morning. The tide must be changing.

Something brushes against my leg, startling me for moment. It happens all the time, but usually I sense the creature's approach. I scan the surface, expecting a second nudge. A curious dolphin will not be ignored.

"I don't have time to play," I announce.

Well, actually I have too much time. The sun is just peaking over the horizon. Why didn't I ask Topher for an earlier meeting?

"I changed my mind," I call out. "Come back and distract me." But the dolphin, or whatever it was, must've moved on.

That's fine. I'll just walk the beach looking for shells—for three and a half hours.

It's a good thing my coverup has big pockets.

"Oh!" That reminds me. I remembered my phone, as promised, but I should've texted Dee the moment I left the house. She's even more nervous about this meeting than I am.

I make my way to dry land, dig out my phone and of course there's already a text: Assuming you've gone for a swim. Please confirm. Did you even sleep?

Just barely. I type: Yes and yes.

The sun is fully visible now, skipping an orange glow across the ocean's surface that warms my heart—because it feels like a blessing. My phone pings with Dee's reply: I'm making a concerted effort to hold back advice.

I laugh out loud and send: thank you

I'm cooking Matt's favorite dinner tonight. There will be plenty if you get the urge to invite SOMEONE.

ha ha

The phone rings. "I'm not kidding," Dee says.

"I'm not either. It's not happening—not today."

"Tomorrow then?"

"You are making me about a thousand times more nervous. Bye, love you."

I end the call, tempted to go for another swim. But it's almost 7:00, and it stands to reason—considering how excited Topher was when I agreed to meet him—that he might already be on his way to the monument.

Is that reason or intuition?

Doesn't matter.

I pull on my coverup and head south, forcing myself to walk slow. And to collect shells—even though none of them are right for my current project: an intentionally beachy wedding frame to remind Matt and Dee of how they met.