Waterborn (The Emerald Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

than the day he had given me the picture, he never talked about my mother. It was like, other than the picture, he purposefully erased all reminders of her from his life.
    "She smelled like this, the beach. And not just any beach. This beach." His chest expanded as though she was right here in front of him and he could breathe her in.
    I knew what he meant. I had once bought a candle that called itself "sea breeze." It was cloying and had clogged my lungs like cheap perfume. Somehow I had known the smell was all wrong, artificial, nothing like the intoxicating scent of the real thing. Maybe a part of me remembered something about her after all. I hoped that was true.
    I waited for more, another morsel of knowledge, but none came, and though I wanted to demand he drop me another breadcrumb, I sensed his distress and let it go, tucking the one crumb I had away, hoping to find more later.
    "Pizza's here. Thought you might be hungry," he said, putting an end to the moment.
    "Starved." I followed him downstairs. I was starved all right. Starved for answers that were too slow in coming.
    After inhaling three slices of pepperoni, I decided to call it an early night. My new comforter was stiff over my body and smelled of plastic wrapping. I was oddly restless despite feeling tired. After about an hour of tossing and turning, I turned off my record player and opened the balcony door wide to the night air. I drifted into that place of half sleep, visions of crabs and snapping claws unsettling me. Something else sparked in my semiconscious mind; the taste of salt and the warm pressure of a dream kiss. The soft fall of hair on my cheek. A laugh riding the wind. I fell asleep to the sound of that laugh.

Four

Noah
    T he house was smaller than I remembered. The light from a single lamp shone through the window, and I followed the faint glow. I stood at the sliding back doors, afraid to go in my own house. I had promised myself I wouldn't come home without him.
    Laughter floated through the house. Something else I’d missed, the sound of my mom's laugh. I hadn't heard it much before I had disappeared into the Deep. Not much to laugh about with Jamie dead. And I did have to admit now that he was dead. He would have come back were he alive. He never would have chosen to leave us, to leave Erin and the baby she’d been carrying.
    Sliding the back door open was the equivalent of zipping up a body bag.
    I blamed the goosebumps that rose on my arms on the blast of cool air that greeted me. The smell of bacon assaulted me. My nostrils flared at the scent of real food. For the first time in months, hunger gnawed at my stomach.
    My mom and Maggie were sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of wine between them, blissfully unaware of me standing in the doorway. I didn't even know how to get their attention. Part of me didn't want to. I could turn around and make my way back to the beach. They would never know I’d been here. At least my mom looked happy. She smiled at something Maggie said before doubling over in laughter. I should feel relieved my mom had found a way to laugh in the wake of so much loss. I should, but I didn't. I was jealous and maybe a bit resentful. She had always been much stronger than me. But none of this was her fault. It was mine and Marshall's, and I would have to deal with it.
    I tried to clear my throat. I had to do something to let them know I was here, but I couldn't force a single sound past my lips. When had I become such a coward?
    I thought it was the smell that finally drew their attention. The scent of the Deep clouded around me, weighing me down, as though I wore too many clothes even though my shorts were threadbare and ripped in several places. Maggie's gaze wandered to me. She held her glass suspended halfway to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. My mom's laugh died with a trickle, and I thought she knew before she even turned around. Her eyes were round with surprise and I heard the slight hitch in her