Indigo (14 page)

His hands went to his head, but it was like he didn’t quite know what was happening. I acted fast. I dropped my sparkler, ran the few feet to him, and tackled him onto the sand, rolled his head in it.

When I was sure the flames were out, I got up. By now, he was crying, shaking, his long hair singed on the right side. Our parents had formed a circle, someone called 911. The rest of the memory was a blur.

I shook my head, brought myself back to reality. I saw the grown-up Rennick doodling in the dirt. He had written his brother’s name in it, Cale. I remembered it now. I had thought it seemed like such a funny name back then. I didn’t think I had even learned Rennick’s name that night, but he had thanked me over and over, his father too.

“Your dad was an Army guy,” I said, remembering his stern manner, a close-cropped crew cut.

Rennick stopped drawing, looking at me very seriously. “You saved Cale.”

“I can’t believe that was you,” I said, but even as I said it, I could see the familiar hints of that boy in this young man: the way he held his brow, kind of led with his eyes—the curiosity there, a sort of indifference toward the periphery.

“How is your brother? Your dad? Where are they?”

“Dad is in the Air Force. Cale joined the Army right after school. Last year.”

“He graduated from Penton?”

He gave me a funny look then, incredulous. “Cale didn’t get kicked out of Penton either,” he said.

I gave him a hard look. “So why are there all these rumors about you?” I said, knowing I was walking the line.

“Well, rumors are not truth.” His voice was tinged with hurt.

And now I was backpedaling. “Rennick, I—”

“People talk. Don’t believe everything you hear, Corrine. I’m just different. People like to … I don’t know.”

“No, tell me.” I knew I was on shaky ground here. But I had to ask. I had to know. I had been through too much bullshit to just talk around everything forever and ever.

Rennick rubbed at his chin, and he looked up at me through his lashes. He laughed, not a funny laugh, but an I-can’t-believe-I’m-going-to-tell-her-this laugh. “You know,” he said, giving me a smile, “you aren’t the only one who knows how to keep people at arm’s length. I have a little practice in the self-preservation mode myself.”

“So tell me why.” I was pressing, I knew it. But what else could I do?

“Let’s turn the tables, Corrine Harlowe. Why should I trust you with my secrets?”

“You sought me out. This is on you.”

“True enough,” he said, smiling. “But what if I like this dangerous, handsome-rebel approach? Why should I get rid of that so soon?” He arched his eyebrow and my stomach flip-flopped.

“It seems to work for you at school. But (a), you aren’t a stranger because we met on that beach. And (b), no one said anything about handsome.” I raised my eyebrow right back.

The laugh. Golden. Ringing through the trees. “You are a tough one.” He considered for a moment. “I didn’t really know my mom. She died when I was a baby.” He looked at me like he didn’t know if he was going to go on.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I was stillborn. Born dead. She saved me, though, with the touch.”

“You’re kidding. Whoa.” It was all I could say. I marveled at this nugget of information. One little sentence. But so much history. He must’ve been able to see it on my face, the gravity of his revelation.

“I know,” he said, nodding.

The wind blew through the trees around us, and I tried to think about what it would be like to be him, to know so much but really so little about this thing around us. To be surrounded by it, defined by it.

I cleared my throat. “So how does it relate to school? Not that it isn’t noteworthy or—”

“Let’s just say that Cale never forgave me for her death.”

“Why? But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither does blaming yourself for Lucy Rawlings’s death. Or Sophie’s.” He wasn’t joking with me now. There was no harshness or sarcasm. Just a tender, soft note in his voice.

“It’s not the same. It’s not that simple.”

“I know. It never is.”

Off in the distance, I heard a three-note whistle, and Rennick got up from the ground, dusting off the seat of his jeans. “It’s Dodge’s whistle. They must be gone now.”

He held out his hand to help me up, which I took, but when my hand touched his, my scalp tingled, itched. Again my skin tightened, the air around us charged, and I quickly drew my hand away, got up from the ground on my own.

I followed him silently. I wanted to ask more questions, but I felt it there, heating up and coming to life behind my sternum. So I hung back, walked behind him, tried to digest all that I had learned. I did know Rennick Lane, my heart did know him.

We walked slowly back toward his house, silent. If the walk out into the woods had been filled with a sense of beauty and freedom, the walk back for me was a blur. All I could see were my feet. My flip-flops, one in front of the other.

About halfway to the house, Bouncer met us in the woods, tail wagging and tongue lolling. He passed Rennick right up and came and nuzzled my leg. I chose a perfectly sized stick from the underbrush and we played fetch all the way home.

When we were in clear view of the house, I could see the new smoky pink and purple formations of sunset light refracting off of the lake. I stopped in my tracks, scratching a panting Bouncer under his muzzle. “It’s beautiful here.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful, Corrine,” Rennick said.
He stood in front of me, did not turn around, but I could see this line to his shoulders, the fear, the resolve in it, and it made me wonder about his story a little more.

“How should I be careful?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Just be careful. Keep yourself safe. And don’t worry too much about what they print in the papers about you.”

“Okay,” I said. He had me worried. I was still coming to terms with the idea of this power itself; now to have to top that off with fear that my power might not be looked on favorably … I didn’t know what to think. My head was spinning. My insides felt oddly hollow and brittle, like I could snap.

“Let’s get out of here, do something fun,” he said, finally turning around.

“Okay,” I said. Rennick opened the back door. He ushered Bouncer into the house and called out to Dodge to let him know we were leaving.

“Doesn’t it seem a little unreal to you that we met all that time ago?” I still couldn’t believe the coincidence.

“It doesn’t seem so crazy.” Rennick led us toward his Jeep.

“Why not?”

“Your aura is pulling me in.”

“Oh, really?” I smiled in spite of myself.

“Your aura loves me already,” he said, opening the passenger door, and he gave me a smile, his one-dimpled smile, and winked.

I let out a laugh as I took my seat, and I tried to ignore the way my stomach flip-flopped at his words. Rennick got in beside me and started the Jeep. “Where are we going?” I asked, glad to be anywhere but home. I needed something to do while my mind worked on everything. Could this all be real? Me? My powers? Rennick? I couldn’t take it all in, and I caught myself thinking about Chicago. If I had been in Chicago, if I had been swimming laps at Chaney Pool, walking home from there at dusk, on our Midwestern streets, under our Midwestern streetlights, I would’ve laughed at all this stuff. Sixth sense. We Midwesterners were too practical for that.

“You’ll see,” Rennick answered. “It’s why I moved here. With Dodge.”

He drove us into the city, through the French Quarter and out toward the wharf. And I had to admit to myself that everything, the touch, all of it seemed more plausible here. This city of ghost stories, birthplace of American voodoo. Even the way the air felt on your skin in the Crescent City. It was all a little bit left of center. Things felt different here, with just a hint of the mystical, the magical, the impossible.

“You know, I thought about you for a long time after that night, after that July Fourth,” Rennick said. Goose bumps trailed up and down my arms.

“You did?”

“I saw your aura even then. It was unmistakable. I mean, I didn’t know what I was looking at exactly. I know more now.”

“What do you know about me?” I said, my voice quiet, waiting.

He held the steering wheel tight, looking straight ahead. I saw him draw in a deep breath. “I know you’re brave. I know you’re generous and kind. You saved a young kid’s life that night on the beach. You’re whip-smart and stubborn. Decisive. And I remember you have a laugh like a sleigh bell.”

I thought of my mom. I always thought her laugh sounded like a jingle bell. “Haven’t I laughed since you re-met me?”

“Not truly.”

Well, considering the string of events since I had re-encountered Rennick Lane, that was understandable.

“Do you still play the violin?”

“Yes. No. I did.”

He nodded. “Corrine,” he said, and there was a seriousness to his face now. “Thank you. For saving Lila. You’ll never know what that does for Dodge.”

And there it was, this tangible thing between us, this knowledge and certainty that I had brought his grandmother virtually back to life.

I saved Lila Twopenny
. I said that sentence to myself. But who I saw in my mind was Sophie. Beautiful Sophie.

Rennick pulled us into a small marina. Three boats—two large bay boats and one small motorboat—were docked, and there was a small storefront, with hand-printed signs for bait and ice. A larger sign, weatherworn and charming, declared in bold blue and yellow letters:
CRESCENT CHARTERS
.

“This is Dodge’s outfit. Been running it for sixty years. Dad was going to make him shut it down. He couldn’t keep up with stuff. The hard labor end of things.”

“Does he fish for shrimp or something, sell them in town?”

“No, it’s a charter company. He takes people out who want the real N’awlins Angling Experience, ya know?” Rennick put on his best drawl when he said this and I nodded a little. “You’d be surprised. Businesses, vacationers, Northerners, they come down here, and they want the experience of fishing in the marshes. They’ve heard the stories about how big the redfish can get. They want to see alligators. So they rent out a little slice of bayou life.”

“They pay Dodge to take them out on his boat?”

“Yeah, and they can drink beer, enjoy themselves, fish with someone who knows what they’re doing, who does all the real work of it. It’s a real load of shit. Hell, I even gut and clean their catch for them at the end for a fee. You’d be surprised how much people will pay when they don’t want to deal with a little mess.”

“So you came to help out Dodge? That’s awfully nice of you.”

Rennick got an embarrassed look on his face, his eyes cast down. “That’s not entirely true. I mean, yes, Dodge had a heart attack last spring, then Lila went into the home. It got real bad, real quick, but when Dad said that Dodge couldn’t keep the charter going, it was just going to kill him. I could
see it. I mean, I’m not exaggerating. It would do him in. So I volunteered.”

I quelled the urge to reach out and grab Rennick’s hand as we walked across the gravel parking lot. We were nearly to the bait shack. “You showed him kindness,” I said, almost in a whisper.

Rennick stopped, turned toward me. “Corrine, it makes me sound like a saint. But the truth is, Dodge gets me. I needed a change. It worked both ways. My father and I don’t
relate
.” He didn’t continue.

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.

“The stories at school make me sound better, cooler. Sorry to disappoint.” He said this with a laugh, but I could hear a bit of a real question in there.

“Don’t say that. Don’t even think that,” I said. “Bad boys are highly overrated.” Even as I said it, I realized that this hinted at something between us. Was I overstepping the boundaries?

At first, Rennick didn’t seem to notice. He only took keys out of his pocket and laughed. But I saw something lighten in the way he held his shoulders, no longer in defense. And then the soft upturn at the corners of his mouth. He liked that I had said it. Had he been hiding behind this bad-boy story?

The pieces of his real story. His reasons for coming here. I wanted to know the whole story, but I didn’t want to pry. I
could tell the feelings here, they ran deep. This meant a lot to him, and my reaction did too. While I watched Rennick fumble for the right key to the bait shop, I realized this was a moment I would revisit many, many times. An important moment. Something very much at the core of Rennick had just been approached. And I wanted to do right by that, to hold it with me, keep it in my heart. Even more than the pictures on the wall of his garage, this was him.

My heart knows him
. The words hit me out of nowhere again when Rennick opened the bait shop door. I pushed them away. But they stayed there, on the outskirts of my thoughts. Where was that phrase from, anyway?

Rennick flipped on the lights. “Why don’t you fill up a cooler?” he said. “Grab a few Cokes and stuff. I’ll get the rods and night crawlers.”

“We’re going fishing?”

He turned around then, caught me with a dazzling smile. “Nobody will be looking for you out on the water.” I must’ve looked unsure. “Is that okay, Corrine?”

I nodded. I was so grateful for the distraction. For everything. And for the chance to be completely alone with Rennick for a few more hours. But was it a sin in a port city like this to admit that you’d never been fishing before?

We took the small motorboat a few miles down the coastline to a marshy inlet where Rennick said we could catch redfish or just sit and be. I liked the way he tilted his
face up to the sky when he said that. I liked the intimacy it insinuated.

The sun was at its fiery noon peak in the sky. So I wore a sloppy white old-man fishing hat from the bait shop to protect my pale skin, and I was happy for the cover it gave me. I could glance out from under it and watch Rennick as he steered the boat, and then as he set up our gear. He moved deftly. Confidently. He felt at home here.

When he killed the motor, he sat still for a long time, and then he pointed out an egret on the shore. It was a beautiful white bird, tall and fragile-looking.