Read Online Rising Tides by Maria Rachel Hooley - Free Book Online Page B

live on the beach doesn’t mean I get tired of it.  To me, it seems like a different beach every day.  The wind changes it.  People change it.  The ocean changes it.  It’s got to be the most beautiful place to be.”  As he leaned toward me, his hand rested on my shoulder.  Through the wetsuit, I felt his fingers lightly press upon my skin.  “What have you got there?” he asked.  Our faces were inches apart.
    I held up the shell and offered it to him.  “Another one to add to your collection.”
    “Don’t you want it?” he asked.  A soft breeze lifted his hair away from his face.
    I shook my head and placed it in his open palm.  “I have the one you gave me.  That’s enough.”
    As I pulled away, Tyler’s fingers closed around the shell.  “You’re a hard woman to please.”
    I looked up at the perfect azure sky spread to infinity like a soft blue blanket and thought, Just give me more time.   I stared at the heavens as though the sky would ripple in response to my one last wish.  Stillness basted the small scattering of clouds in place.  The answer is still no, isn’t it?
    Unable to bear the weight of perfection canopied over our heads, I turned my attention toward the sailboat sitting in the sand in the distance.  The rainbow-colored sail flapped in the soft breeze.
    “What time do you need to be back?” Tyler asked as we approached the catamaran.
    I reached out and touched the sail, tracing three rectangles of color—blue, green, red.  With each new color I half-expected my fingers to feel something different and distinct.  Instead, it all felt the same—coarse and hardened from the wind and water.
    Tyler grabbed the life-jacket I’d worn the previous day and handed it to me.  “It should still fit right.  What time do you need to be back?” Tyler asked again, pushing the boat toward the water.
    With slightly trembling fingers, I accepted the jacket and put it on.  “It doesn’t matter.”  I looked down at the tracks the catamaran hulls had left in the sand.
    Tyler straightened from pushing as the bow touched water.  Frowning, he stared at my face as though trying to read a book in a foreign language.   His hands rested on the edge of the tramp as he stood in shin-deep water.  “Is everything all right?” he asked in a quiet voice.
            “It’s fine.  Are you ready to start sailing?”
            “I guess that is what we came here to do, isn’t it?”  Tyler pushed the boat farther out.  When the water came to his knees, he said, “Now climb on the front of the left side.”
    I stepped on the hull and climbed onto the tramp, sitting in the place he had suggested.  After a moment or two more pushing us into deeper water, he climbed on and grabbed the rudder stick, shifting our direction slightly.  Although the sail had only been half full of wind before, the moment we changed directions, the sail billowed outward, full.  As the wind filled the sail, he pulled the line tighter, and the boat sped up as the wind hummed off the hulls.
    From the shore, Larkin barked at us, running toward the waves and then away.  More than once, he cocked his head to the side as though expecting one of us to answer him.  Both of us stared at him.  A moment later, he turned and walked down the beach toward Tyler’s.
    “That was quite a show,” I said, staring at the empty beach.
    “Yeah,” Tyler agreed.  “I guess he wanted to come, too.”  Glancing at the sail, he cinched the line tighter, and our side of the boat rose.  My fingers snapped down on the metal rail, and I clenched my teeth, trying not to panic despite the awkward feeling washing over me.
    Tyler looked from the sail to my face and then to my white-knuckled fists.  “Nice death grip you’ve got there.”
    I looked down at my hand and blushed.  “I keep thinking we’re going to tip over.  It sure feels like we might.”
    He reached out and rubbed the top of my hands until my grip