July 20, 1994
Today we went to Wakulla Springs, which sounds like a peaceful, wholesome, nature-filled outing, right?
No, it involved packing enough food to survive an apocalypse, multiple arguments about who forgot what, and at least one catastrophic meltdown by Crista before we even left the driveway, caravan style, with everyone but Tessa.
She did not come, which she will insist for the rest of her life was the greatest injustice ever inflicted upon her.
She woke up “beyond ill,” which, according to Jo Ellen, meant she had a low-grade fever and needed rest, and according to Tessa meant she was knocking on death’s door and we were all abandoning her in her final hours.
Eli was sad she wasn’t coming, of course. Because, and I say this with love for my brother, Eli still has a thing for Tessa. Not a crush the way I have one on Peter, but when she’s around he doesn’t notice anyone else. But today, she wasn’t around.
So without Tessa there, it was like his attention had nowhere obvious to land. Which is how, I think, it ended up landing on Kate.
We finally made it to Wakulla Springs, which I will admit is beautiful. The water is impossibly clear, this deep blue-green that looks almost fake, and there are trees everywhere and this big diving platform with a (very, very) high jump that immediately became the main attraction.
Naturally, the boys started climbing it right away, recklessly launching themselves off, and within minutes there was a whole system going—climb, jump, splash, repeat.
I, for the record, stayed firmly on the ground where I belong. Kate, however, surprised me.
She stood there watching for a while, her arms crossed, her expression thoughtful in that way she gets when she’s working something out internally, and then she asked me to hold her glasses ’cause she was going to jump.
Which I thought was a joke.
Before I could even process what she’d said, she headed for the concrete steps, moving quickly like she knew hesitation would ruin everything.
Eli noticed immediately. He was already in the water by then, having jumped once or twice, and I saw it—that shift in his attention. The way he turned, watching her climb.
Kate reached the top and stepped onto the platform, and for a moment she looked completely fine—steady, and composed.
And then she looked down, and everything changed.
Even from below, I could see it—the way her shoulders tightened, the way her body seemed to lock up. She inched forward, then stopped, her toes right at the edge, and stayed there longer than anyone should stand that high above anything.
People started yelling up at her, which is always wildly unhelpful.
Kate did not jump.
She stood there, frozen, caught in that horrible space between wanting to do something and being completely unable to make your body cooperate. Seriously, it was HIGH.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Kate bent her knees slightly, then straightened again, and then—like she knew if she waited any longer she never would—she jumped.
It was not graceful or confident or even fun. She looked horrified mid-air.
She hit the water and disappeared under the surface, and everything seemed normal, just another jump, another splash—but then a second passed, and then another, and when she came up, it was different.
She came up gasping, her eyes wide, her movements unsteady.
She tried to say something—yell something—but her voice caught and she swallowed water instead.
And Eli was there, immediately. He reached her in seconds, grabbing her and holding her and swimming with her out of the water.
She kept saying she couldn’t feel her legs and she was so cold and, to be fair, the water wasn’t warm even for the middle of summer, and her teeth chattered when they got back onto the shore.
Our parents were nowhere to be found, but Eli calmed her down as I ran to grab a fresh towel and get her glasses back on.
Kate sat there for a moment, dripping and pale and catching her breath, but steadying.
Eli seemed impressed by the effort, but Kate just laughed off his “You did it!” by saying how much she hated it over and over again.
Then Eli put his hand on her shoulder and gave a squeeze. “I’m proud of you, Lady Katie.”
I don’t know if I ever heard him use that nickname since years ago when we made sandcastles and somehow it stuck. Tessa said it. Uncle Artie said it. But…Eli?
Maybe not, at least based on the way Kate looked at him.
It was not subtle. It was not guarded. It was this completely open, completely unfiltered look of awe and relief and, well, love.
And I realized, in that exact moment, that Kate has it bad. Like, really bad. (Full disclosure: if it had been me and Peter, I’d have done the same or maybe worse. No, definitely worse.)
And here’s the thing that made it even more interesting—Eli looked at her differently, too. Not the way he looks at Tessa, but something new. Like he was seeing Kate for the first time.
“Next time,” he said, “don’t lock your knees before you jump.”
She laughed again, softer this time, like she wasn’t entirely convinced there would be a next time but also wasn’t ruling it out, which, for Kate, is basically a personality shift.
I swear, if he had asked her to jump again right then, she might have done it just so Eli could save her one more time.
Anyway, I did not jump, and I feel very good about that decision.
But I did witness what might be the exact moment Kate Wylie fell completely, irreversibly in love with my brother.
Love,
Viv
P.S. Now that I think about it, maybe I should have jumped so Peter could have saved me.