CAYMAN SUMMER (Taken by Storm) (26 page)

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I did. You didn’t pick up.”

“Sorry, babe. No cell service out on the ocean.” We move off the dark sidewalk under the bright pool of light where she worked. “Looks like you took it out on the bougainvillea.” The vines are butchered.

Her legs are scratched up, too. “Did I mess it up?”

My eyes move from the branches littering the yard to her face, and I know she’s not talking about gardening. “No. No. You helped a lot.” I bend down and kiss her.

She’s trembling. “I thought I’d scared you off for good.”

She buries her face in my chest.

I hold her, stroke her head. She could tell me she believes in holy flying penguins, and I’d be back. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, and look—” I hold up the Book of Mormon I shoved in the back of my jeans when Leesie attacked me. “Can you read with me? It’s hard by myself.”

She raises her head from hiding and takes the book. “Do you have more questions?”

I nod.

I get one more kiss, and she pulls me around the back to the screened porch. She already put Aunty Jaz to bed.

We sit, side by side, on the couch, knees, arms, ankles touching. She reads, stops, explains—paints the sacred stories of her childhood. She’s beautiful in her element.

I listen and love her.

We get to the part where the father dies. The mean brothers want to kill Nephi. Leesie gets emotional. “Droop in sin,” she reads. “That’s what I did. I’d still be stuck there, miserable, if you hadn’t forced me into President Bodden’s office.” She strokes the open page on her lap and presses her cheek to mine.

I put my arm around her. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You don’t think that was inspiration?”

I lean my cheek on her head. “Desperation.”

She keeps reading. “I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh.” She chokes up—makes me continue.

I finish the Chapter—a few more verses. It’s beautiful. I hold Leesie, and we share an intense moment born of all we’ve been through together—my grief, hers, our ups and downs, the love that battled its way through it all. If anything is divine—that is.

It’s midnight when I tenderly find Leesie’s lips and whisper good night.

As I drive back to the East End, I remember the feeling I had back in the temple garden in Hong Kong and the tunnel with all those BYU kids singing hymns. The power that stopped me from going into Leesie’s room that first awful night we spent in Cayman wasn’t my mom. I didn’t sense Mom in Hong Kong and in the tunnel like I did the other times she helped me. But something was there. Something real. Something like I felt with Leesie tonight.

I pull the car off the road when I get to the blow holes and wander out on the coral rocks—close enough to the waves forcing themselves up through the coral tubes to feel the fine mist on my face—and stare out at the night ocean.

The sky overhead is heavy with stars.

I owe this to Leesie. At least once.

“Is it—I mean—are You—real?”

The ocean surges, seethes. An unusually large wave hits hard enough to drench me with spray.

I wipe my face and whisper, “Is that a yes?”

I have to admit there is a power in the night beyond me, beyond the ocean, beyond the sky, beyond the stars.

Something is out there.

Something big.

Something real.

Something I can no longer deny.

Chapter 29

NEW BEAT

LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 07/01 9:17 AM

Kimbo69 says:
Hey girl! You’re online for once.

Leesie327 says:
Why are you up so early?

Kimbo69 says:
Actually I’m up late. Mark’s off on a trip with his friends. I can’t sleep without him.

Leesie327 says:
Michael leaves every night. I hate that.

Kimbo69 says:
But good-bye’s can be sweet.

Leesie327 says:
Amen to that. The way he kissed me good night last night was beautiful—like a prayer.

Kimbo69 says:
That’s definitely not how Mark and I said good-bye.

Leesie327 says:
I’ll take what I can get.

Kimbo69 says:
What are you guys doing for the 4
^th
of July this weekend?

Leesie327 says:
I don’t know. Michael will have to work, but maybe there will be fireworks somewhere we can catch at night.

Kimbo69 says:
Mark will be back. We’ll have our own fireworks.

Leesie327 says:
Are you done rubbing it in?

Kimbo69 says:
Why is Michael always working? Isn’t he loaded?

Leesie327 says:
He wants to learn so when he starts his own dive operation he doesn’t lose all his money.

Kimbo69 says:
And he’s diving. That’s not really work.

Leesie327 says:
He loves it—but it’s hard work.

Kimbo69 says:
It’s not all that fair. He dives all day with beautiful girls, and you sit around with a sick old woman.

Leesie327 says:
I don’t sit around. I’m totally busy.

Kimbo69 says:
Are you happy—like he is?

Leesie327 says:
I’m all over the place. Happy one minute—fighting tears the next. My mom says that’s normal.

Kimbo69 says:
I’m glad you’ve got your mom to talk to again.

Leesie327 says:
She makes more sense than I ever gave her credit for.

Kimbo69 says:
What big plans have you got for today?

Leesie327 says:
I did a massive hatchet job on some bushes. I got to clean up the mess.

Kimbo69 says:
Sounds like a blast.

Leesie327 says:
Good exercise.

Kimbo69 says:
When is Michael coming over?

Leesie327 says:
Late. He’s got another long day.

Kimbo69 says:
Is it gross—changing diapers?

Leesie327 says:
What are you talking about?

Kimbo69 says:
The old lady!

Leesie327 says:
She doesn’t wear diapers.

Kimbo69 says:
That’s a relief.

Leesie327 says:
I help her in the bathroom and get her dressed. Make sure she eats. Test her blood. Give her meds.

Kimbo69 says:
Shots?

Leesie327 says:
She jabs herself.

Kimbo69 says:
Is she getting better?

Leesie327 says:
Her foot looks worse to me. I’m worried it’ll get infected again.

Kimbo69 says:
You have to take care of that?

Leesie327 says:
Yeah. When the nurse doesn’t come.

Kimbo69 says:
Gross.

Leesie327 says:
I almost lost it yesterday.

Kimbo69 says:
I couldn’t do it.

Leesie327 says:
You could. You can do anything you really want to.

Kimbo69 says:
That’s what you think.

Leesie327 says:
Hey Kim—I gotta go—Michael just walked in.

Kimbo69 says:
Is something wrong?

Leesie327 says:
I don’t know.

Kimbo69 says:
You can’t just leave me like this!

Leesie327 says:
Bye.

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM # 99, HIS CONFESSION

My kayak paddle digs deep

into the turquoise water.

I pull the blade through,

raise it, dig deep again

in rhythm with Michael

paddling behind me.

He’d burst into Jaz’s shack earlier,

bundled me and Aunty Jaz into his car

and sped to the big hospital near

my clinic. “Hurry, we’re late.”

Is the only clue he divulges.

By the time I manage

to get Jaz on her feet

he’s back with a wheelchair

and a beautiful nurse

with a clipboard and thick,

long, long black hair.

I’m frozen by that hair.

But Aunty Jaz pipes up,

“Dear boy, you’re mistaken

I don’t have an appointment.”

Michael ignores her, eases

her into the wheelchair

and races away.

I lock my hands behind

my back, so I don’t touch

the inch and a half long

growth that covers my head

or pull a handful of the nurse’s

beautiful hair off her

innocent, unsuspecting head.

I follow through double doors,

down halls, around a corner,

notice a “Dive Medicine Clinic” sign,

worry that Michael’s bent again,

realize that makes no sense at all.

“Wait here.” He motions me to a

waiting area as he pushes Jaz

through more glass doors and

around a corner.

I sit on a yellow waiting room couch,

wait and wait until—there he is!

I barge through the glass doors.

“They are prepping her for the chamber.”

He’s totally lost me.

“Aunty Jaz isn’t bent.”

He grins big and takes my hands.

“Oxygen therapy. Great for wounds that won’t heal.”

I frown, worried. “She can’t afford this.”

He shrugs. “I can.”

We’ve got two hours to ourselves.

He’s taken the whole day off.

So here we are paddling

out to his favorite free dive site.

He stows his paddle to signal

our arrival. I tuck mine alongside his.

Instead of bailing over the side,

he opens his arms wide.

“Come here, babe.”

I maneuver into them,

snuggle my face

against his neck,

while his arms wrap me up.

He kisses his favorite spot

on my mangy skull and whispers,

“I think something answered.”

I bolt up—almost tip the kayak.

“You prayed!” My lips attack

in jubilation before he can answer.

He holds me off.

“Not fancy words like you—I just asked.”

I have to kiss him one more time.

“That’s all you have to do.”

I sit back, so he can explain.