An Ordinary Drowning, Book One of The Mermaid's Pendant by LeAnn Neal Reilly Page B

him, tugged him toward her even
though the rush of the water urged him to stay safe on shore. Heart pounding,
he waded deeper, his eyes locked onto Raimunda, her head dark against the night
sky and her face hidden in shadow. And then she turned and headed toward the
path of flickering moonlight caressing the waves. Without warning, she slid
under the surface and disappeared. John’s heart lanced his throat and he lunged
toward the spot that she’d last been standing. Water cascaded over his head as
he plunged into the suffocating ocean and grabbed for her. His hand closed on
her hair. He snatched her head up and stumbled back until his feet touched the
bottom.
    They
stood there, panting, faces dark and streaming.
     “What
did you say last night about making me glad to be alive?” The words tumbled out
of him. Beyond recall.
    For an
answer, Raimunda pressed her chest against his and leaned in to kiss him. Her
hot, salty mouth clung to his. The water tugged at their shoulders, pulled at
their legs. But it could not separate them.
    ***
    John
woke up late the next morning, headachy and stiff—and bemused. He’d only had
three or four beers last night, but the fuzzy feeling between his ears and
along his tongue testified to former intoxication, as though the forbidden
beef, or Raimunda, had made him drunk. He sat up and rubbed his temples,
squinting against the light. He’d slept heavily, dreamlessly. A sense of regret
filled him as he realized this. He’d missed something. Or someone. Regret and
peevishness sharpened the ache between his eyes, but he managed to shoulder
them aside as he ate a cold breakfast of bread and cheese. He had the
campground to himself now that the weekend beachgoers had returned to the
mainland so he left his sleeping bag unrolled when he left to go kayaking. He
biked into town, passing parents kissing children good-bye at the school. It
was a familiar, if unexpected sight. That sealed it. No paradise contained a
school.
    He
arrived at Luís Peña around nine-thirty and paddled around to the north side of
the cay to the small beach there. Like much of the larger Culebra, the
uninhabited Luís Peña Cay was covered with low-growing vegetation, stunted
trees and dense shrubs; at its highest point, south of the beach, it reached
nearly five hundred feet. Even though it was a nature preserve, day trips for
hikes, snorkeling and swimming were allowed. Still, he was almost guaranteed to
have the entire cay to himself on a Tuesday morning in March. He’d maneuvered
his kayak without any difficulty, gliding smoothly and silently over the innocuous
seawater, its clear depths hiding no dangers. After securing the kayak, he set
out to explore the cay, taking forty-five minutes to walk its perimeter. By the
time he returned to the beach, the fuzzy fatigue had burned off in the morning
sun, taking his black feelings with it.
    While he
drank some water, he imagined that he was Robinson Crusoe. Castaway and forced
to survive by his wits. No hard drives. No fluorescent lights. No windowless
lab space. Just him, his hands, and what God and nature provided. An image of
himself, woolly bearded and tanned sinew, filled his mind. He laughed. He
wouldn’t last three days let alone twenty-eight years. Still chuckling, he
stripped off his sweaty t-shirt and shorts, leaving them to dry on a rock.
After a few minutes, he added his sweaty underwear, too.
    He
considered the ocean before him. Unlike the fear that had gripped him last
night when Raimunda beckoned him into the water, this gently lapping expanse
promised peace. As long as he went no deeper than waist high, he should be
fine. He wandered fifteen feet into the water, which was too warm to cool off
in, and swam across the length of the small bay twice. The desire to separate
from his body as it moved, to recapture the sweet blankness that had freed him as
he’d cycled yesterday afternoon flitted in his thoughts, but a shadow on his
spirit stoppered them inside