Summer's Last Breath

Part 43

The days following Jamie's funeral passed in a pattern of sameness. I didn't know why I continued to torture myself by coming to the beach. Jamie consumed my thoughts, but when I was here it was as if he consumed me. I felt his touch in the wind. I heard his voice in the waves. His smell was everywhere.

He'd insisted magic lived in the Deep; some presence that called to him and comforted him. I wanted to feel that magic. I wanted it to touch me and comfort me. I was so tired of feeling nothing but pain every time I took a breath.

I held the necklace he'd given me in my hand, the pearl that matched Jamie's eyes, but it didn't look like Jamie's eyes anymore. The pearl was dull and lifeless, the magic of it gone.

I want to say I didn't know what I was doing. That had I been aware, I would never have risked myself or my baby. I just wanted the magic. I needed it to touch me and make me whole. One touch, that was all I needed, one lap of one wave over my feet.

It felt good when the water washed over my feet, but it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed to be closer to him. I didn't fear the waves. How could I when the worst had already happened? When it felt as though my life was already over? Danger didn't exist for me here. He'd come. I knew he would. Jamie would never let anything happen to me. And somehow I felt him, the promise of him luring me farther into the Deep, and I imagined I heard him calling my name as the waves crashed over me. I imagined I felt the strength of his arms lifting me up, holding me, keeping me safe. Keeping us safe.

I was floating, blissfully numb, and I gave myself over to the feeling. Feeling nothing was good.

Then I saw him coming out of the Deep. I'd been right. He wouldn't let anything happen to me. I waited for his touch. I waited for him to save me. I waited for him to breathe his life into me.

Urgent hands grabbed me and dragged me away from the peace I'd found in this place of no pain.

No.

Cold air hit my face, but I refused to breathe it. Noah's voice echoed in my ear. I floated in his arms when all I wanted was to float away.

"I've got you," he said, his voice strained. "It'll be all right."

How could everyone keep telling me that same lie? It wouldn't be all right. Nothing would ever be right again.

Gritty sand scratched the backs of my legs. Noah's face loomed over me. I grasped for the nothingness, the place of no feeling, desperate to get back there, but Noah wouldn't leave me alone. His mouth crashed down on mine and he breathed into me. His arms worked, the pressure of his hands on my chest unbearable.

Stop it.

I tried to knock his hands away, but my arms were too heavy. I choked and coughed, spitting briny water at the same time a series of sobs wracked my body. Noah pounded on my back, and as I quieted, as I regained my breath, the pounding turned to a gentle caress. Then his touch disappeared altogether. Not wanting to, I looked up into his face where he stood over me, his chest heaving, the look in his eyes one of incomprehension. Saltwater dripped from the ends of his hair, and his head shook back and forth.

"What were you doing?" He crouched beside me and grabbed my arms, pulling me from the ground in a merciless grip. He shook me, his face full of anguish, the same anguish I couldn't escape."What the hell were you doing?"

"I don't know," I sobbed. "Noah... I don't know."

He pulled me to him and held me so tightly I imagined I might break. "Don't give up on me. I won't let you give up."

I clung to him, his solidness giving way to his vulnerability when his shoulders started to shake and I couldn't tell where my grief ended and his began. I cried into his neck, my fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders. "He's gone. He's really gone."