Read CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) Online
Authors: Angela Morrison
Kimbo69 says:
And he didn’t ask why?
Leesie327 says:
Nope. And he won’t. Why should that matter? Now he knows why I’m guilty of at least vehicular manslaughter.
Kimbo69 says:
He doesn’t think that.
Leesie327 says:
I don’t know what he thinks. I’m not bringing it up. And he’s to sweet to broach the subject.
Kimbo69 says:
So what have you guys been doing with all this time together?
Leesie327 says:
Michael slept in today. I sat on the floor and watched his face.
Kimbo69 says:
Riveting.
Leesie327 says: I had to tear myself away to make him Gram’s gooey cinnamon French toast.
Kimbo69 says:
Gosh, that sounds good. Mail me some.
Leesie327 says: Sure thing. We sat on the balcony and ate it looking out at the ocean. If diamonds were turquoise, it would be this water.
Kimbo69 says:
Aquamarines?
Leesie327 says:
Something like that. We talked about Suki.
Kimbo69 says:
[Insert loud choking sounds here!!] Oh, my gosh—did he finally fess up?
Leesie327 says:
Yup.
Kimbo69 says:
The creep.
Leesie327 says:
No—don’t say that. He was a hero.
Kimbo69 says:
For getting it on with a professional?
Leesie327 says:
That’s a huge lie. Shut up.
Kimbo69 says:
He didn’t sleep with her?
Leesie327 says:
She enticed him—you saw how gorgeous she is—and he admitted he was tempted, but even though I shoved his ring back in his face like a stupid brute, he didn’t do it. He had my ring around his neck. He walked away.
Kimbo69 says:
You believe him?
Leesie327 says:
A hundred percent.
Kimbo69 says:
But they were kissing. The whole world saw the photo.
Leesie327 says:
The creep she was with beat her up, and Michael took care of her—helped her get back to her people. The Sea Gypsies. She kissed him good-bye. Isn’t he amazing?
Kimbo69 says:
Are you sure he’s not making that up to make himself look good? Wanting to do a prostitute doesn’t shine in my book.
Leesie327 says:
No way. I had to pry the story out of him. Now I can tell our kids their dad’s a hero. He saved me, too. Don’t forget that.
Kimbo69 says:
You’re having kids?
Leesie327 says:
Lots of them.
Kimbo69 says:
You going to start that right away?
Leesie327 says:
Why not? I can’t go to school here.
Kimbo69 says:
He won’t let you go back?
Leesie327 says:
He’d take me to BYU in a second. I can tell he wants to bring it up, but he’s afraid I’ll flip out again.
Kimbo69 says:
So you’re going to stay in Cayman and have babies?
Leesie327 says:
I’ll go wherever he wants and have babies.
Kimbo69 says:
You’re too young.
Leesie327 says:
When my mom was pregnant with Stephie, my grandmother always said, “Young bodies are made for making babies.” She’d look straight at me and say, “Don’t wait until you’re over the hill”—glare at my mom—“have them in your twenties.”
Kimbo69 says:
You’ve got a good decade or more to reproduce.
Leesie327 says:
But a baby with Michael’s eyes would be so cute.
Kimbo69 says:
And your life would be over.
Leesie327 says:
Or just beginning.
Kimbo69 says:
How twisted can you be? The goal is always not to get pregnant, hon.
Leesie327 says:
Not always.
Kimbo69 says:
Are you trying to tell me you’re knocked up? That was fast.
Leesie327 says:
No chance of that.
Kimbo69 says:
Still?
Leesie327 says:
We made a truce. I promised to stop trying to get him into bed.
Kimbo69 says:
Crap—he is a hero.
Leesie327 says:
Yeah. He’s guarding my useless virtue.
Kimbo69 says:
What did he promise?
Leesie327 says:
To find out how to get married on Cayman.
GUARD DUTY
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME #10
Dive Buddy:
students
Date:
06/01
Dive #: --
Location:
Grand Cayman
Dive Site:
pool
Weather Condition:
sunny
Water Condition:
calm
Depth:
10’
Visibility:
perfect
Water Temp:
82
Bottom Time:
15 minutes
Comments:
Back at work. Three days off with Leesie weren’t enough. I’m teaching today, so I bring her along. Can’t leave her alone. Not yet. Terror too fresh.
The classroom stuff is a good review. She doesn’t get in the pool—but she sits on the edge with her feet in the water and follows my every move, nodding her head like she’s mentally going through the motions.
I can’t wait until she gets that stupid cast off her arm. Then we’ll really dive. One week from today she has an appointment. I’m taking her for sure. I want to be there. If all goes well, they’ll saw that junk off her hand and not put a new cast back on. Her collarbone seems to be doing well—her arm is out of the sling more than it’s in.
It’s been over a month since she shaved her head. Her hair is growing fast—almost an inch. At least that’s what she says. It’s more than half an inch—I’ll give her that. Yesterday she searched all over the apartment to find a ruler to measure it. Made me promise to buy her one. Even at half an inch, it’s coming in thick enough to give the scar some camo. She doesn’t put make up on every day, but the spa ladies at the rehab place gave her heavyduty stuff that makes a big difference with the part of the scar that marks up her forehead. If she wants to get cosmetic surgery, that’s fine with me. Whatever. If it makes her happy, I’ll pay for it. I don’t care what it costs.
I’ve got to go under the water with my students. I swim over to Leesie. “We’ll be down about fifteen minutes.” I don’t like not being able to watch her. Since I found her Thursday, I’ve been with her all day—until I turn her over to Alex—who was stupid enough to take off before I woke up on Saturday.
That scared me. Leesie was fine—up making me French toast, but still. Stupid, Alex. What was she thinking?
Now, Leesie slips off her sling and picks up a mask and snorkel she borrowed from the shop. “Can I watch you from the surface?”
I squeeze her knees. “Sure.” Freak, I love her. “Great idea.”
She gets me to tape a grocery bag around her cast while my students haul out of the pool, then watch us.
“How come she gets special attention during our lesson?” A middle-aged lady with a giant butt wants to know when I rejoin them.
I grin back at the lady. “Because she’s my fiancé.” Yeah. It feels good to say that.
The lady shuts up—smiles back at me even. “Congratulations.”
“Gear up, guys. What are you waiting for?”
No one says, ‘you messing around with your babe’—for that, I’m grateful. Go easy on them. I coach the class of four through getting all their gear on, make them jump in, review descent when we’re bobbing on the surface. And then we’re down.
Big butt lady gets nervous, but I’m in her face—encouraging her to breathe, in and out, slow and calm—until we wear the panic down. She’ll love me after this.
I glance up quick to check for Leesie. She’s off to the side watching.
She watches me.
I watch her.
We both hesitate to rock any boats.
She wants me to look up getting married in Cayman. I keep putting it off. I promised her dad to bring her home first. She’ll freak when she hears that.
I’m taking Leese out on the boat with me tomorrow. More watching. These students are doing a check out dive in the shallow water inside the reef. The water is way too rough on the East End for her to sit on the boat when we leave the reef’s protection on normal dives. She’d be puking her guts up for sure.
She can come with me tomorrow. No prob. I’ve got morning dives on Wednesday. Then students again in the afternoon. I can bring her along in the afternoon, but what about the morning? Alex is booked on the boat with me. Cooper is captain. Gabriel, Brock, and Ethan have the other boat. That leaves Seth.
Would he hang out with her? Nothing obvious or anything. She’d be ticked if she found out I’d set up a watch dog. I so don’t want to ask him. Makes me nervous—yes, jealous. But what else can I do?
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #86, CAYMAN PRINCESS
Michael takes my hand
and helps me down
into the boat. Other
passengers clear a lane
for me like I’m royalty.
His princess—with my island
scarf wound round my head,
Michael’s Cayman-colored shell necklace
swinging around my neck, his diamond
flashing on my broken hand,
and my old swimsuit giving
me away. It’s just Leesie,
people. Move along.
I trip a little so I can fall
against Michael’s bare chest.
He gives me a squeeze
and a XXL lady yells,
“Hold it,” and snaps our picture.
He lines up his students
along one side of the boat,
sits across from them
and gets down to business.
I sit off to the side
and watch him teach,
watch the muscles in his shoulders
and back ripple when
he stands to reach his wetsuit.
The boat putters a few hundred
feet from the dock while Michael
coats himself in neoprene.
All black—wrapping him tight.
I miss his golden skin but
can’t deny he devastates
exponentially more wetsuited.
He hovers over me.
“We won’t be down long.”
I slip my right hand out of its sling
and rub it along his shoulder and arm
while the rest of the women
watch their prince. “It’s cool,”
I whisper. “I’ll help Cooper.”
Sun burnt, sandy-haired, smiling
Captain Cooper lies on a bench
and follows the one lonely cloud
crossing the sky as he tells me about
Canada and snowdrifts that
don’t melt until April.
“I know snow.” I hand him a slice
of the melon I chopped for the break.
“Grew up driving in it.”
“Cool. Where?”
“Washington.”
“State?”
I nod and pitch a melon rind
over the side.
“When you going back?”
My face pulls into a frown.
“Leave here?” My glance
indicates the paradise
of sparkling blue we float in.
“Are you kidding?”
“You can’t stay forever.”
“Why not?”
“Visa runs out.”
“That sucks.”
“Not for me. Commonwealth privileges!”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
I flick a piece of melon
at him and stick my tongue out,
wander to the back of the boat,
try to see what’s going on down under.
I’ve never been so eager to get
in the water, sink into Michael’s
kingdom, obey his every command,
trust him with my life
like our pudgy pal and her friends.
Cooper hands me a mask.
“Care for a swim?”
He tapes my cast in bag,
jams fins on my feet,
and comes along so I don’t
drown. “He’s over there.”
He points to bubbles
percolating on the surface.
I swim to them, mask down,
blowing too hard through
my snorkel until
Michael comes into view.
Perfect.
Except I’m here.
He’s there.
Gotta change that up.
Soon.
But today, this moment
of jeweled wonder floating
in pure clear ocean
I can watch, wait
and love him.
BACKFIRE
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #87, BABYSITTERS
Seth’s off this AM,
drunk again last night.
“Can you watch him?”
Alex says through her toothbrush.
I pull a bleck-are-you-crazy face. “What?”
She spits. “Watch him—hang out until we”—
she pauses to rinse—“all get back at lunch.”
“What would I do with him?”
I can see Seth through our half-open bedroom door,
awake earlier than he needs to be, turning his nose
up at bacon and eggs.
Alex rinses her toothbrush. “Keep him
away from the beer.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
She gives me a don’t-be-this-stunned-this-early
grimace. “Feed him coffee.”
“I don’t do coffee.”
“It’s a machine, hon. Already done.”
Me serving coffee? To hung-over Seth?
What a joke. Maybe I’ll try some.
Or join the guy in a couple of beers.
Michael won’t be around to stop me.