CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (21 page)

Mom gets Dad on the phone.

We all three cry

together.

The call lasts

minutes?

hours?

forever?

I hang up and don’t

know if I even told

them anything.

“I’m sorry.”

I got that out.

“I love you.”

We all said that.

“Whenever you want to come

home, Leesie-girl, is fine with us.”

That was Dad.

How does he know

I’m not finished here

when I don’t even know

myself?

“Give Michael our love”—

is all I remember from Mom.

And Dad’s, “Tell him

we’ll be proud

to call him son,”

made my heart burst.

I sop my face

with the last three

tissues on earth

and stare out at the stars

and moon shining hope

on the water.

My cell rings.

It’s Dad saying,

“By the way, Leesie”—

he’s that sweet, sheepish

farm boy my mom fell

in love with—

“Where are you?

We forgot to ask.”

Chapter 24

YOU

MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10

Dive Buddy:
Leesie

Date:
06/17

Dive #: --

Location:
Grand Cayman

Dive Site:
the balcony

Weather Condition:
night but still hot

Water Condition:
we can hear the waves breaking on the reef

Depth:
enveloped both of us

Visibility:
it’s dark but I can see farther than I have for a long time

Water Temp:
perfect

Bottom Time:
67 minutes

Comments:

Everyone else is asleep when Leesie slides back open the balcony door. I’m awake in my cot. “Babe,” I whisper, get up, trip over Ethan. He curses me, rolls over, farts.

This could be Leesie’s last night here—last night with me. For all I know, her parents want her to get on a plane tomorrow and go home. I’ll quit, go with her. They’re okay here with Dani back. I hate to bail and leave them short-handed, but Leesie comes first. Maybe if I deliver her looking so much better like she does, it’ll get me on her parents’ good side. I did call her dad—and he was grateful—but I also stole their daughter. Do they understand why I did it? What did Leesie tell them?

And then there’s Mr. Branch President dude. Who knows what crazy stuff he’s got in store. Probably, same idea. An airline ticket home. Best I can imagine is an apartment I can rent for her. A marriage license? If he insists, I’m not going to debate it. Not any more. It’s out of my hands. It’s all up to her now.

I reach Leesie. She’s pretty much drenched in tears and other facial fluid. “You okay?”

She holds her hands out for me and starts crying again. I step into the warm night air on the balcony. “Hey, hey, hush now. I’m here.” I fold her up in my arms. “Are they making you come home?”

Her voice squeaks through her tears. “Dad says I can stay here as long as we need to.”

I close my eyes, don’t want to say this. “I can take you home tomorrow. Just say the word.”

A shudder moves through her body. “Let’s talk to President Bodden first.”

“Does your dad have a shot gun? What about his razor knife? Is he buying new blades?”

She shakes her head—trying to remember. “He said something sweet about calling you, ‘son.’”

“He always does that.”

“He meant it different this time.”

I rest my lips on her soft, furry head. “What does that mean?”

She bites her trembling lip. “I think it means you can’t get rid of me no matter what.”

“Even if I’m not a Mormon?”

“My dad’s got a lot of faith.” She sniffs and loses it again.

I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. So far—it’s all good. “Were they angry?” I sit on the chaise lounge and pull her down beside me.

She shakes her head and squeaks into my shoulder. “We were all devastated together.”

I stroke her head. “You’ve been holding it in.”

“It’s coming out now.” She wipes her hand down her face. “All over you.”

I squeeze her. “Any time, babe.”

“24/7?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No way we’re even.”

I kiss her nose. “Don’t worry. I’ll collect.”

“Michael!” She slugs my arm.

I love every note of her protest. I kiss her to make sure. All her old barriers are back up. “Freak.” I rub my face against hers. “You’re back. You’re really back.”

She manages to add a trembling smile to her tears.

“Will you tell me something?” I’ve been patient—haven’t questioned her story about the accident.

“Anything.” She kisses me. Her lips are hot and salty.

I swallow my suspicions. It’s nothing really. Her story makes sense. Mostly. She’s like a fresh born butterfly with wet wings. I don’t want to crush them while she’s getting ready to fly.

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #95, REDEMPTION?

Hesitation clutches my stomach

before I enter President Bodden’s office.

Does lost Leesie lurk in the corner

where Grandma and Phil’s heaven sent

light left her licking her wounds

and planning a counter offensive

to retake my soul at dawn’s first light?

Michael guides me through the door—

my buffer, my strength, my hero.

The room feels sweet, inviting, holy.

I whisper a prayer of thanks as I sit.

The Spirit washes over me in healing

waves.
Slowly, slowly.
It whispers.
Go slowly.

Michael reports my phone call home.

He knows unstoppable tears will

pour from me again if I try to speak of it.

I stood in the shower for a half hour

last night before I stopped sobbing

enough to sleep.

President Bodden leans forward,

hands clasped, eyes concerned.

“Are you leaving us then, Sister Hunt?”

Is he disappointed?

“My dad said”—I swallow and sniff,

blink watery eyes—“I can stay if I need to.”

President Bodden smiles. “The Lord works in

mysterious ways.”

Michael doesn’t understand. “I can take her home whenever she wants to go.

She’s known that from the start.”

“I appreciate that.” President Bodden’s voice

calms the water. “I have an opportunity

for Sister Hunt to consider.”

I sit up straight and try to focus.

“Like a place to stay?”

“Like a job?” Michael’s voice

and concern entwine mine.

President Bodden’s mouth splits into a welcome

grin. “Let’s call it a service project.”

Michael frowns back at him.

“That’s what she called me.”

“A sister in the branch—

we all call her Aunty Jaz—”

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Aunty Jaz is a Mormon?”

“You’ve had her fish?” President Bodden closes

his eyes to savor a succulent memory.

Michael does the same.

Inhales a phantom scent.

“It’s the best.”

The story unfolds—

Hot oil. Burned foot. Blisters.

Bad infection. Diabetic. Not healing.

Released from the hospital but needs

help round the clock. Sisters

have taken turns all week.

Her daughter in the states

just had twins. Her son on

Cayman is court-ordered

to keep his distance.

Fish shack closed. No money

coming in now for weeks.

“We’re looking after her utilities

and food, but hiring a companion

is beyond what we can do.”

I sit up tall, straight, feel the Lord’s

hand redeeming my life.

“I can do it. I can. I took care

of my grandmother.”

President Bodden holds his hands up,

slow down, girl, slow down.

“You’ll have to cook and clean.

She does have a nurse

stop in to dress the wound

and bathe her.”

“Yes, yes, yes, please let me try.”

I’ve wallowed in guilt day after day

week after week, months now.

I can serve, Lord. I can.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

“Are you sure, Leese?”

Michael’s hand rests on my knee.

I nod. So sure.

His eyes turn to President Bodden.

“What about the son?

Will she be safe?”

“Aunty Jaz hasn’t heard