17. The Break
17
THE brEAK
She sends me with a guide for my safe conduct from the mansion,
She is the Brightness of Brightness I saw upon a lonely path.
— AOGáN ó RATHAILLE, “brIGHTNESS MOST brIGHT”
T he weather had broken with intermittent patches of sunshine. Noting the clean waves breaking along the shore, I decided that the best way to escape the house and the memory of my father’s last farewell was to jump in the surf.
It was almost like the ocean, which usually shouted my name the moment I could smell its salty brine from my window, had quieted since my arrival, as though it knew I needed a moment to take everything in before I could say hello.
Now it was hailing me with every sleek wave, the crash of the break a siren for my attention.
It didn’t take long to secure my surfboard onto the Prius and tug an old wetsuit over my sports bikini. The only key to the storage shed was on my keychain; Gran had staunchly refused to take it, insisting that she’d never need to go digging through smelly neoprene anyway.
I drove the few miles to Short Sands, one of the more consistent breaks on the north-central coast. The will’s memory still danced in my mind. As I took my old board off the top of the Prius, suddenly, I was fourteen again on the morning I had received it.
“Promise me again,” Gran said as she watched me rub surf wax over the surface.
I rolled my eyes but did my best not to give her any sass. She had, after all, just given me a surfboard.
“Gran, there are just birds out there,” I said. “Sometimes a little seal or a baby shark, but the big stuff stays farther out and watches.”
“It’s especially the seals you want to watch. Big brutes, they all are, with no thought for anyone but themselves. Just promise me, Cassandra, or you won’t be leaving this house any time soon.”
I looked up from waxing my new board, ready to tease her some more. But the pain and worry etched into her brow and into her shining gray eyes stopped me.
“I’ll be careful, Gran. And I’ll keep to myself. I promise.”
I shook my head as the memory drifted away. I had made her the same promise every time I rode the gray, kelp-filled waves. Keep to myself. Stay away from any creatures. Isolate.
Any time I had asked her why, she’d demurred, and I’d never pressed, preferring my own company to the chaos of others. It was clear now that it was one more lesson she had intended to give me later in life. One more lesson I’d never receive.
I sighed and zipped my wetsuit, then hid my keys over the left tire.
“I promise, Gran,” I murmured as I started toward the trailhead into the old-growth forest, board under one arm.
It was still a quarter mile through the forest, but I could imagine the waves crashing on the shore at the end of the hike. My blood began to churn, and my feet felt lighter. I yearned for the smooth glide through the water and the clarity and peace that came with it.
After about an hour, peace was replaced by shivers from forty-eight-degree water that numbed my fingers and toes. The sun was beginning to set at the horizon, and there were only a few surfers left in the water—the rest had headed back to drive home or were starting bonfires up and down the rocky, coved beach.
Just one more ride , I thought to myself as I watched a new set rolling. One more perfect wave.
I could never completely let go. Not when so much noise awaited me on shore.
I was starting to contemplate my exit when I noticed a man on the shore yelling and frantically waving his arms back and forth at me. One of the people I used to surf with, once upon a time? Unlikely, as most of my friends from high school weren’t on the coast anymore and probably wouldn’t know me from so far away anyway. I was apparently quite forgettable—most of the people in town rarely, if ever, recognized me on my trips home.
Cautiously, I raised my hand and turned back around to face the oncoming sets. It was dangerous to keep your back to the ocean for too long. And if this was going to be my last ride, I’d make it a good one.
“Cassandra!”
My name floated over the whitewash as the wind started to shift. When I looked back, the man was still flapping his arms, gesturing for me to return to shore.
I shrugged and turned back to the horizon. Whoever it was, he was just going to have to wait until I found my last wave.
The ocean, of course, decided not to cooperate, flattening into a lull. I shoved my gloved hands underneath my armpits and rocked back and forth on my board, blowing strawberries with numbed lips. A sleek gray and black seal popped up about ten feet away and crooked his face to one side as if to ask what in the world I was doing there.
“I don’t even know, buddy,” I said. “I’m starting to ask myself that too.”
The seal disappeared back under the water as the waves began to surge.
I wasn’t always lucky enough to have my last ride of the day be the best one, but the final set delivered. A nearly flawless wave approached from the left side, and I jumped on. I made two nice cutbacks before a big piece of kelp tangled with my leash and pulled me into the surf. Cold whitewash bubbled overhead while I worked to cut the seaweed from my board, earning more than one mouthful of saltwater and loam.
I had never been happier to taste it.
Another lull settled on the break, giving me the chance to get back on the board. While my mind would have happily gone back for more, it wasn’t to be. Instead, I was jerked backward by a current moving in the opposite direction of the rest of the surf.
“What in the…” I looked around me, searching for a riptide that wasn’t there. Normally I’d see something like that before I even entered the water, and I’d be sure to avoid it completely. This, however, wasn’t the same kind of choppy current slanting against the tide. Instead, it was as if the whitewash flowed backward in a long, straight conveyor belt. There was nothing natural about it.
“Cassandra!”
I twisted around toward the familiar voice laced with panic. “Jonathan?”
He was almost unrecognizable. The sorcerer’s normally implacable face blazed with fury that matched the sun as he held out a hand toward me, brow furrowed in concentration as he his mouth moved along with the blaze in his eyes.
My board began to move faster.
“Wait—what are you doing?” I demanded. “Stop that!”
He didn’t answer, too busy focusing on dragging me back to the beach for more than just my name.
I swung around on the board, but the awkward movement made me fall into the two feet of water left around me. Even so, the current tugged me backward into the sand and surf, splashing water in my eyes and up my nose and causing my board to bang into me until we were both washed up on the sand, no better than castaways.
Jonathan loomed over me, eyes back to normal, but somehow still darkened. “ What in the hell were you doing out there?” Once again, his accent tilted more toward Irish, half-shouted over the ocean’s roar.
I sat up, spitting loose hair from my face. “What were you doing? You could have drowned me back there!”
“Drowned you?” He turned his face to the sky and barked a loud, coarse laugh. “ Drowned you? I can’t go anywhere without saving you from bloody drowning!”
I scowled as I got up. “You’re kidding, right? I grew up surfing this break, asshole. I know every single rhythm of this water, and I wasn’t even close to being in danger until you decided to create your own fucking riptide!”
“It—that thing ”—he pointed at the board—“dragged you under!”
“That’s a board, you idiot. And it was just a bit of kelp that tangled with the leash, not a leviathan.”
“And have you any idea of how fucking dangerous that is? People drown all the time in the ocean!”
I followed his finger thrust toward the water, which still lapped peacefully under a setting sun. “If you’re so afraid of the water, I suggest swimming lessons. And also to stop interfering with other, much more experienced swimmers!”
I grabbed my board and made for where I’d left my things at the base of a nearby boulder. If I was cold before, I was freezing now, five-millimeter suit or not. My waterlogged ponytail dripped unpleasantly down the back of my neck, and water squished in my booties with every step. Not exactly formidable.
Bristling, Jonathan followed. I didn’t need to be a seer to feel the anger emanating from his body, and it only irritated me more.
“There are all sorts of creatures out there, Cassandra. Things that could seriously hurt you.”
“Correct. Sea life exists. I don’t need you to mansplain the ocean to me, Jonathan .” I zipped my board into its bag, moving as quickly as my numbed fingers could manage. “Most of the sharks here are around the Seaside breaks and about the size of my forearm. The worst I might see is a seal or two, and they’re harmless.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
“ Seals ?” His voice morphed into a full screech. “Are you completely mad? Do you have any idea what a thing like that could do to someone like you?”
“Seals? Really? They’re basically the puppies of the sea.” I shook my head to the side to release some water from one ear. “Actually, I take that back. Otters are puppies—they’re the cutest. Seals are more like full-grown dogs. They even bark.”
His mouth fell so far open that I spotted a silver cavity gleaming in the farthest molar. “You cannot be so dim. What has Penny been teaching you out here?”
I looked up sharply. “Hey. There’s no need for that.”
For once, he looked slightly remorseful. “I’m sorry. I only meant—I was surprised, because of—” His mouth clamped shut, and he didn’t finish the sentence.
I stood up straight. “Because of what? Your phobia of the ocean? Or Penny’s?” Guilty twinged in my chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that about someone who just died, but it was true. She was weirdly terrified of the ocean and seals too for someone who’d grown up with both.”
Suddenly, I was mad. Livid, in fact. I was angry at him for shouting at me for no apparent reason. And furious at Penny for feeling the same way, for sending this person after me to begin with, for dying, of all things.
I grabbed my board bag and shoved it over my bag, unwilling to engage in this conversation anymore. Jonathan was wise enough not to speak as I zipped everything up and started back to the car.
By the time we reached the lot, I was seething too, even with the shivering that had taken over my body. Jonathan followed me all the way to my car as if to ensure that I wasn’t going to run back down to the beach as soon as he turned around.
“Excuse me.” I pushed him aside to unlock the trunk and pull out the plastic box that carried my suit and towels. A wet handprint appeared on his Barbour jacket along with the irritation that flew through his fingertips. I smirked, too satisfied with mussing the impeccable Mr. Lynch to consider the anxiety that had also filtered through my touch.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with out there,” he started again, this time with the more measured, superior tone I had heard before.
But while he had managed to come down, I hadn’t.
“Oh my g-gods, stop!” I snapped, my intended curtness thwarted by yet another shiver-induced stutter. “I’ve b-been surfing for literally t-wenty y-years—first in Pendleton with my father, and then h-here after he was gone. I th-think I have s-some idea. Certainly b-better than y-you!”
I emptied my gloves and booties of seawater and tossed them into the bin, then reached for the zipper to peel off my wetsuit. Soon I was in just my bikini, and my pale skin puckered into goosebumps while I rooted around the trunk for a towel. So much for appearing tough—I probably resembled a plucked chicken more than a badass surfer.
Jonathan scowl. “You, of all people, should know…” he began again, then seemed to think better of it and pulled his lips abruptly together.
“W-what does that even mean, me of all people? Listen, m-man, I don’t know who you think you are, but giving my grandmother a hug and writing her will doesn’t give you the right to b-boss me around.”
I thought I could see his mouth twitch out of the corner of my eye as I continued to search my car for something to cover me up. “Cassandra?—”
“N-No! I’m serious! You’re all s-secretive, and won’t tell me a th-thing, and it’s my grandmother who died! What are you even doing here, anyway? Did you stalk me to the beach too?”
“Of course not. But, Cass, will you please put some bloody clothes on!”
He was no longer looking at me, but instead glaring at the trees, like he couldn’t bear to see me in so little.
I wasn’t anything special. Middling height with pale skin that reddened in the cold. But my body was strong from all the time I spent in the water, and filled its purpose well.
Still, I blushed. I blushed at the thought of this eminently useful body putting Jonathan Lynch off his game. And then I hated myself for it.
The yellow corner of my towel peeked out from under the bin. I yanked it so hard that everything clattered to the pavement, making Jonathan jump.
“Gods dammit!” Ignoring the mess, I wrapped myself in the towel, then marched around the car to change into the dry clothes I’d left in the front.
Jonathan’s green eyes met mine over the roof, and this time they burned.
I looked away first. When I turned back, he had turned his back while I tugged on my jeans under the towel.
“Sometimes my concern looks more like aggression.” The implied apology was toneless, like he’d made it countless times before. “I didn’t mean to imply that you are unable to make your own decisions.”
Now clothed, I walked back to the trunk to fold the towel on top of the wetsuit bin. Then I grabbed my sneakers and closed the hatchback before putting them on. Jonathan turned around.
“You really are a lawyer,” I told him. “That sounded about as genuine as aspartame. Maybe you should run for Congress too.”
His brow fell into a straight line, but almost immediately relaxed into something resembling contrition. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just worried.”
I sighed, unable to hold quite so tightly to my anger. “I know. I Saw it earlier.”
“And you were angry. I could See that too.”
We shared a long look, as if both of us were trying to figure out what that meant. Why, exactly, he seemed to sense the same things I did. Why my emotions appeared to shake move him when nothing else did.
Why I cared about what he thought of me too.
No , I decided. Not now .
“It doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here, though,” I said. “Still not stalking me?”
“The innkeepers recommended this beach as a nice walk in the area.” He glanced around. “I might have agreed with them until the end.”
“You know I don’t buy that, right?”
“I had some time to spare, so I came to see it. When they mentioned it…I felt drawn to it. It’s possible it was you that drew me here.” His large green eyes blinked earnestly when he removed his glasses to polish the lenses.
I swallowed. I had always been a sucker for a man with good eyewear. The fact that he also filled out his jeans better than anyone had a right to and could pull off a cable knit sweater under his coat—the same kind of sweater Gran knit—wasn’t hurting anything either. The wind had tousled his hair in that way that only seems to look good on men.
Mine, bound at the base of my neck, slicked black from the ocean, and dripping down my neck, probably made me look like a wet rat.
It was then I realized Jonathan was eyeing me with the same attention to detail.
“Selkie,” he whispered before he blinked out of his daze.
I shook my head “Selkie, is it? Maybe I don’t need to be so afraid of the seals, then, if I’m one of them. Though I can assure you this is my only skin, and I haven’t come to shore to enchant anyone.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he mumbled.
I frowned. “What?”
Jonathan just trained his gaze on his feet.
I shoved my hands into my fleece and pulled it tight around me as the wind gusted through the trees. “So. Now that you’ve calmed down, would you mind telling me why you were freaking out so much? What’s with the seals?”
He looked back up in surprise. “Penny really never said anything?”
I tipped my head. “No, she did, but I always thought it was just a quirk. In the end, she just gave up and accepted that I needed to be in the water to be happy.”
“If she didn’t mind…I suppose I don’t either.” He didn’t sound convinced. “We can talk more tonight.”
“Fine.” I was freezing cold and done with chitchat, especially since getting this man to release information was like pulling tree stumps from the ground. I marched to the driver’s door and opened it. “I’ll see you tonight then.”
“Until then,” he confirmed.
I didn’t hear him. I was already driving away.