Page 76 of Tides That Bind

I yearn for it. I’m desperate for it. I fear it not in the sense of being scared, or being killed by it. No. I fear how I’ll feel when I remember what it’s like to stilllivethrough it.

“I absolutely can’t,” I decide. My time this early would be better servedreading, or re-reading the letter Caroline said we should first send the police department. I drafted it last night when I couldn’t sleep, for fear of being lost in a dream of both Lucas and Harper’s tears, unable to swim out of it.

“Harper and Lucas. You’re doing this for…” I backtrack. “Lucas.”

I’m about to bend down and grab the board but straighten. I kick sand on it instead before plopping down beside it on the beach.

How am I supposed to help encourage Lucas to surf when I can’t?

I really fucking can’t do that.

That’s what I told Nate in the car.

You gotta take care of my family.

But…aren’t I?

I came back.

I showed up.

I’m here, on this beach mentally beating myself into a pulp, for two people I promised to care for.

Nate said showing up is half the battle. I look out at the ocean. It’s kind of like that with surfing. You put yourself out there and you’ve already done half the work. The waves, if you trust them, will do the rest.

Taking a deep breath, I stand, brushing sand from my fingers and then grab my board, tucking it under my arm. And Irun, too fast to even think about where—and what—I’m running toward. By the time the water reaches my bare calves, I’ve got my board in front of me, giving it a gentle push before I hop on.

It’s then I hold my breath. But before I release it and go for another, I’m already paddling out to beyond the break.

When the water calms, I push up, sitting and straddling the board, my legs dangling over the sides into the cool water. My breathing evens quickly even after a hard paddle out. I’ve reached equilibrium.

I skim the water with my fingers before I push them deeper into the water so I can turn to face the beach—mybeach. No one technically owns it. But I’ve got so many memories in these waters and on the shoreline, I know I’ve imprinted on it somehow.

My board pulls back a little, and I can feel it, that wind up of a wave I know was meant for me to ride, but one that still gives me the choice whether I’m going to take it or not. And I am.

Plopping down on my stomach, I begin to paddle again, only this time toward the shore, toward memories and problems and promises. I know I need to get ahead of it for the wave to take me there.

That’s when I see it, a hand—Nate’s hand—below the surface. But he isn’t wiggling his fingers for me to grab him and pull him out from dark water.

He’s waving.

It’s at that exact moment a swell blossoms from below me and I know it’s time to stand. I’m not one to believe in ghosts or the afterlife in general, but I swear, right now, I know it’s Nate getting me up.

I know in my bones—in the very one he broke—it’s him pushing me back to his family. And I know, if there is a heaven, Nate’s up there, cheering for me as I ride the wave home knowing I’ll do the right thing.

You’re the best man I know.

THEN

“We’re going to the hospital.”

I shake my head and walk out the door, heading to my room.

“Harper!”

I come back with more candles. Riley moves out of the way and as I shift the changing pad and place one on the dresser. I hand him another. He’s the one dealing with screws. He could use the light. “We’re not going to the hospital because these are Braxton Hicks. They’re nothing to worry about.”

“You keep saying that, and you keep having them. The last one was nine minutes ago.”

---