Whispers from the Past (9 page)

I forgot to set my alarm clock but, thankfully, woke with a start at my normal bike training time. It was later than I’d wanted to leave for the beach, but it was still doable. I hurried through my shower and breakfast and headed for Marissa’s apartment.

From the street, I could see no lights on. I climbed the stairs, tapped on the door, and then slipped inside. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness.

Susanna sat on the carpet on the far side of the great room, her back pressed to the wall, biting her lip and not meeting my gaze. The lamplight from the parking lot cut a wide swath across the carpet.

I crossed to her side and knelt down. “Why are you sitting here like that?”

When she looked up at me, her eyes were wet.

“Tell me, babe. What’s wrong?”

“I am relieved.” Her voice was husky. “You were later than I expected. I wasn’t certain that you would come.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Perhaps our disagreement had put it from your head—”

I pulled her into my arms, my mouth closing over hers, drinking her in. She tasted like honey and mint. I had to wrench my lips from hers or we’d never get away. “I didn’t forget.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Her voice sounded more confident.

“You want to go to the ocean, so I’m taking you to my favorite beach. Okay?”

She smiled with pure happiness. “I am looking forward to it. So much.”

We drove east toward the Bogue Banks of North Carolina, staring directly into the sunrise. Susanna watched the scenery flash by, mesmerized at the pinks and blues of the clouds and the relative flatness of the land. There was mile after mile of fields lying fallow.

She grew quiet. Moments later, her eyelids drifted shut. I knew the moment she fell asleep.

I was really sorry I hadn’t made this trip before. On the way back, I would have to ask her more about what she wanted. We’d spent so much time getting her legal—getting her the credentials she needed to be a person who could get a job or go to school—that I’d forgotten to help her relax and enjoy.

I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

D
ETERMINATION AND
S
TRENGTH

Mark pulled into an empty lot and parked between faded white lines. He shut off the truck. “Here we are at Emerald Isle. One of the most beautiful beaches on the North Carolina coast.” He pointed ahead of us. “We’ll walk just past those dunes.”

Tall grasses, topped with feathery blooms, swayed in the breeze. A wide, diffuse roar surrounded me, broken on occasion by the squawk of a bird.

A feeling like dread gripped me. How big was this ocean? How strong were its waves? Would I love the sea or fear it?

A shudder racked my body. Perhaps I should have withheld my interest in coming.

“Come on, babe,” he said, holding my door open. “You’d better bring your coat. There’s a storm rolling in, and it could get cold and wet really fast.”

I slipped it on and then slid from his truck, hiding my shaking hands in the wide pockets of my coat.

“Hey.” He drew me into his arms, his gaze gentle and patient. “I know this might be scary for you, but it’ll be fine. I’m beside you all the way. You don’t have to take a single step until you’re ready.”

I drew my hands from my pockets and slipped my arms around his waist, under his unzipped jacket. Beneath my cheek, I felt the beat of his heart, sure and strong. He pressed a kiss to my temple and then nuzzled my hair.

I leaned back enough to study his face. His beautiful amber eyes watched me. They gave me courage. “Let us go.”

He caught my hand in his and turned toward the wooden bridge that waited to take us over the dune and out to the sea.

We walked with steady purpose, fingers firmly clasped. I kept my chin high, aching for my first glimpse.

Yet, as our feet thumped hollowly on the wooden steps of the bridge, my courage faltered. I dropped my gaze to watch our shoes, which moved in unison. He had slowed his stride to match mine.

It was a most unusual bridge. Up several steps. A flat stretch. More steps, both up and then down, interspersed with flat stretches. Finally, we reached the beach. Below us was sand as fine and white as the best-milled flour. It stretched as far as I could see, although truly that wasn’t far given my bowed head.

The roar engulfed me. Intimidated me.

Mark didn’t move or speak. His hand squeezed mine lightly and then he was still.

Slowly, I raised my head.

The ocean spread before me, immense and powerful. Water rolled and spread across the sand in waves of dark gray, flecked with foam. I tracked across its vast, undulating surface until, far in the distance, it met a strip of bright blue at the edge of an otherwise angry, black sky.

“The sea is indescribably beautiful.” I glanced up.

Mark was staring at me. “Indescribably beautiful,” he repeated.

Rising on my toes, I kissed him with gratitude and love. “I am so happy to be here with you.”

He swallowed hard and nodded.

I looked back at the sea. Dare I go closer? “Do the waves ever roll farther in than what I see now?”

“Sure, but it’ll be hours.” He cleared his throat. “See how they break and recede. The water stops where the sand is dark. As long as you stay above that line, you’re safe.”

I could do this. I had come all this way and I wouldn’t let my fears rule me now. I broke free of his hold, kicked off my shoes, and raced toward the waves.

“Wait, babe.”

I slowed as I approached the dark sand, careful to maintain a safe distance from the swirling, chopping water. When the next wave rolled up, it startled me into running backwards, though clearly it would not have reached me. “The sand is wet and cold,” I shouted, throwing back my head to view the shifting clouds. I had conquered the ocean in all of its powerful glory and it, in turn, had captured me with its allure.

“Of course it is,” he said from behind me. “It’s March.”

I laughed over my shoulder. He stood a few feet away and above me on a higher shelf of sand, my clogs dangling from his hand. “Would you not like to take off your shoes?”

“No frickin’ way.”

I yanked the tie from my braid and then twirled like a child, hands outstretched, feet spinning on the cold, wet sand. My hair whipped about my head in the wind. I had once imagined that freedom would feel like a mild, autumn day. But I had been naïve. The ocean defined freedom. Immense and intimate. Demanding and giving. Changing and constant.

When I stopped and ran up to Mark, he watched me through narrowed eyes before offering his hand and pulling me up to join him on the sandy ridge. His regard held such intensity that I shivered.

Hands joined, we walked up the beach for a long distance. We were not the only people out today. Some walked alone. Some had dogs with them that chased the white birds who circled about.

Mark and I didn’t speak, yet our silence was a happy one. I followed him onto higher ground, the sand and broken shells taking all of my concentration.

In a small refuge amid the grasses, he swung me around to face him, his fingers smoothing errant strands of hair away from my cheeks. “I love you, Susanna, so much that I ache with it.” His lips covered mine.

I grasped at his waist and closed my eyes, giving in to deep kisses that made me moan and press closer to his strong body. My senses had come alive, teased by the salty scent of the sea, the brush of a cool breeze over heated skin, and the sweet taste of his mouth.

He groaned and drew away slowly. My eyes fluttered open to see him frowning with something like regret. “We’ll have to turn around soon. Do you want to grab some seafood nearby? We have time to eat an early lunch and still make it back in time for your shift.”

“I like this plan.” I smiled at him and hoped that he could read the joy on my face. “The sea ranks above all wonders I have seen in this century. I loved my time here, Mark. Even more, I love that you gave this to me.”

“You are perfect.” He seared my mouth with another hot kiss and then turned to walk back down the beach and toward the parking lot, his hand tightly enfolding mine.

Isaac arrived Saturday night not long before my shift ended.

I hesitated. My day at the beach had left me exhilarated and bold. He had offered for me to go along some time, had he not? “May I ride with you?”

His eyebrow raised. “I’m going to southeast Raleigh. Do you know what I mean?”

I nodded. It seemed an odd question. Since we were in northwest Raleigh, southeast Raleigh had to be exactly opposite us on a map.

“If you’re sure, I’d like the company.” Isaac gave me a light smile. “Go ahead and get in.”

I climbed into the old white van, buckled up, and sent Mark a text.

do not pick me up tonight. I do not need a ride

Once that was done, I looked about me with curiosity. The van had only two seats. Otherwise, it was filled with large steel shelving. The rear doors creaked open and Isaac leaned in, his arms filled with padded containers. One by one, they slid onto the racks.

The rear doors slammed shut. Moments later, he was seated beside me, cranking the vehicle.

We had driven several miles before he spoke.

“Lucy tells me that your boyfriend hangs out with Gabrielle Stone.”

“That is true.” I frowned at Isaac’s profile. Why should he make such a comment? Was it polite conversation? “Gabrielle is a pleasant person.”

“Does he attend Neuse Academy, too?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You must be older than Mark.”

“I am.” It was another odd observation, one to which I must respond carefully since I was born two hundred twenty years before him. “My eighteenth birthday was in October. His was in December.”

“Eighteen?” He darted a glance my way. “I would’ve guessed that you were older than that.”

“Perhaps I seem so because my childhood was shorter than most.”

“That’s an interesting statement. Why was your childhood shorter?”

I looked out the side window, wondering what it was about this man that led me to choose such candor. “I was raised in a…‘cult,’ as Mark calls it.”

There was a brief silence. “What do you call it, Susanna?”

“The life I had to survive.”

He shuddered.

We turned off the highway onto a sharp ramp and then emerged on a wide avenue that led directly into the downtown area. Before us rose tall dark buildings streaked with thin lines of light.

“Do you mind talking about this?” he asked.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be speaking of it now.”

“I’m not a licensed counselor yet, but I do know how to listen.” He braked for a traffic light, then turned to me. “And I don’t tell secrets.”

“The details of my childhood are not secrets.” I considered what else to share. There was so little that might make sense to him. “I was given a job at the age of ten.”

“It’s illegal for ten-year-olds to work.”

“That law did not concern the villagers much.”

We passed through more traffic lights. Soon, the tall buildings gave way to shorter ones surrounded by fences made of chains.

“What type of job did you have?” Isaac asked.

This was a most peculiar conversation, for minutes of silence would elapse between each question. “I cooked, cleaned, and tended the children.”

“What hours did you work?”

“If I was awake, I was working.”

He made a rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “Did you go to school?”

“My schooling ended at the age of ten, when I went to work.” I pressed my head back into the fabric of the seat and pondered how much more to reveal. Yet Isaac’s voice enticed me. It was so kind. So lacking in judgment.

“Where were your parents while you were working?”

“My father had died. My mother was…helpless.”

“Did your new employer—?”

“Master.”

His head whipped sideways to study me, his eyes widening at the term. “Did your master treat you well?”

“He did not.”

We were now in a neighborhood full of buildings fashioned from concrete blocks. There were few streetlights in this part of Raleigh.

“Here we are,” Isaac said, pulling into a parking lot. The pavement had grass growing in the cracks snaking across it. The building was small and only had two little windows at the front.