Chapter 5
Marina
Note to self: the next time you get an urge to be bold and explore your old campground at night, maybe don’t?
I guess it’s my own fault for being too distracted by the silly lyrics in my head to notice my surroundings. Yeah, I came out here to get lost in the thrall of inspiration, but I can’t exactly finish my song if I’m dead.
My eyes feel as if they’re covered in sand, heavy and unwilling to open. I’m being carried, I know that much, but whether it’s back to my cabin or to the Great Beyond is yet to be determined.
The only thing I can remember is … something I don’t think I can acknowledge because it’s impossible. I may have come out here to reconnect with the past, but I won’t let my imagination take over this time, as much as I would like to.
“You’re awake.” The stranger’s voice is like a warm blanket. His tone is friendly and familiar, like he’s someone I’ve known my entire life. I keep my eyes closed tight.
The person I want to see when I open them doesn’t exist. “I—” I begin, dazed, but warm in his arms, “I don’t remember anything.”
But that’s a lie.
I remember green and blue scales shining in the moonlight, but I’m obviously not telling him that. Still, the image pulses in my memory, making my heart race and race. I can’t piece it together. What I think I saw isn’t even possible, is it?
No.
Blinking in the night, I finally turn my gaze to my rescuer. Slowly, his blurry frame comes into focus. He’s gangly with sandy blond hair. More than that, there’s something strange about him. something I can’t place.
We’re in the old first aid cabin—at least, I think so? It’s covered in cobwebs and graffiti. The wood looks waterlogged, and there’s a bed I’m grateful he hasn’t set me upon.
“It’s gross in here.” It’s all I can manage to say, and a deep rumble of a laugh rises from his chest.
“I wasn’t sure if you hit your head, and didn’t know where else to take you,” he remarks, still holding me tightly. “One non-gross location coming right up Ma—miss.”
He carries me out into the moonlight. I can see his striking amber eyes staring at me with what I think might be concern.
“You hurt at all?”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I can … probably walk.”
“Oh, right.” He nods, setting me down on shaky legs.
My rescuer is taller than me.
Which is a feat, at 5’9
“I didn’t mean to startle you so badly.” He laughs. In the moonlight, I see more than a hint of regret on his face. For the first time, I notice there’s a Southern twang in the way he speaks.
“I’m fine, I just—” I shake my head. Honestly, I have no idea how I’m feeling. “I’m a little embarrassed, I guess. Thanks for catching me.” I offer him a genuine smile. “I doubt the gators would have been so chivalrous.”
“Ah, they could surprise you,” he says. There’s a tentativeness to his tone, before he asks, “Can I help row you back?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.” I push down the urge to refuse, out of fear of being an even bigger inconvenience. The fact is, I’m still a little rough on my feet and not eager to try to steer a whole ass canoe right now.
“You might want to be more careful songwriting at night,” he warns. It’s mortifying that someone saw me wandering around here, singing in the wilderness like a rejected Disney princess. “You mentioned you know about the critters around here. They can be a little more meddlesome in the dark.”
Would it be too insufferable for the girl who literally fainted to say she can take care of herself?
The truth is, all I could think about was seeing this place again. When I saw that canoe, I thought if it was still there tonight, I’d resign myself to go back. There was a melody dancing around my head, and though the words are still a mess, it’s the most inspired I’ve felt in a long time.
“You probably think I’m ridiculous,” I say as we approach the dock. The stranger helps me into the boat, guiding me with a gentle hand on my waist, and suddenly, I’m no longer a misguided tourist but a lady being helped into a carriage.
A very wobbly carriage. The canoe rocks to and fro as he hops in.
His response to my self-deprecation is a mere shake of his head.
He takes up one of the oars and begins to row, and for a while, the two of us just stare at each other.
There’s something about him that feels like a song I’ve forgotten the words to; the more I look into his eyes, the more they seem to unlock a melody.
The sound of the water is hypnotic, owls coo in the distance, and for a moment, I close my eyes and take in every sound.
“You know, we haven’t even told each other our names,” I say, when I realize I’ve been quiet for too long. I’d like to call him something other than “that guy” or “park ranger” in my head—even though I’m not actually sure if he works here. “I’m Marina.”
“Marina—I knew it,” he says quietly.
“You what?” I laugh. “Do you normally guess the names of the damsels you save?”
“You’re my first, and I don’t take you for a damsel,” he says. If I’m not mistaken, his cheeks are flushed. “It … suits you, Marina.” I’m struck by how he says my name.
At work, it’s barked like an order.
Grams always calls me Mari. Uncle Orson called me “Mare-Bear” when he was alive.
But Marina…
It’s like a song on his lips. Something glitters all the way up to his eyes, a warmth in his tone that heats my face and my heart.
“I’m Gil,” the man says, his hand engulfing mine in a firm yet gentle shake before he goes back to rowing the canoe.
“Gil,” I repeat, a hint of a smile landing back on my face. With his wide-set eyes and full lips, the name suits him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah… nice to meet you,” he says with a small nod. “For future adventures, stick to the paths on this side at night.”
“And you’re exempt from this rule because… you work here?” I ask, picking at the skin behind my ear before catching myself and placing my hands in my lap.
“Something like that,” he says, looking off in the distance. “You should be able to sneak back out to the old campgrounds before noon without too many people batting an eye. Boat tours don’t run that early.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“You … out here looking for something?” he asks.
We’ve reached an overgrown stretch of the shoreline.
Without missing a beat, Gil helps me out of the boat and hides it behind a few of the trees that dip low into the water.
He lifts the canoe easily, like it’s made of paper.
I squint, looking at the lean muscles of his body before remembering he asked me a question.
What was I out here looking for?
“Inspiration mostly,” I say, feeling embarrassed to not have a better answer. He walks me back down the path, our hands brushing every once in a while. Heat rises to my cheeks with each accidental touch.
I shouldn’t mistake chivalry with interest. Neither of us talk much, but there’s an energy I can feel buzzing between us with every shared glance and smirk. Suddenly, we’re at my cabin door.
And it all feels like a strange dream.
“I’ll see you around?” I ask, hoping this isn’t the last time our paths cross. Preferably under less awkward circumstances.
“Yeah,” he says but doesn’t take a step back. Neither do I, tension swaying in the air like the moss-covered trees. Whatever I say next needs to be direct—an invitation, a signal for him to ask me for my number.
“Cool” is all that manages to come out of my mouth. Great, I’ve regressed to an awkward teen saying goodbye after a first date. Should I ask for his number?
I should ask for his number.
“Cool,” Gil echoes, and that’s it.
After a long breath, and the realization that this isn’t going anywhere, I break away, moving up the creaking steps to my cabin door.
“You eat breakfast?”
I whirl around, nearly toppling over my own feet. His deep chuckle rings through the night, and he smiles at me.
“Occasionally,” I say. My breakfasts are technically desserts or leftovers, and typically consumed after noon. So, no, I don’t eat breakfast, but on the off-chance this leads to a date…
“What if I asked you to eat breakfast with me?”
My face heats up. Is he asking me out? “I’d say yes,” I reply, biting slightly on my bottom lip. “I’ll see you here tomorrow?”
“It’s a date.”
A date…
Maybe I was wrong about fairytales after all. This marshy swamp may be covered in gators and frogs, but in the midst of all of that, I think I found a prince.