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Books by Cynthia A. Rodriguez

Mystic Waters

Chasing the Tide

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This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9904189-0-0

ISBN-10: 0990418901

ISBN: 9780990418917

Anterior Books

P.O. Box 832469, Miami, F.L. 33283

www.anterior.us

Cover design by Ingenious Tek Group

First Printing

To every service member who has ever counted the days until they were home again.

More importantly, to those Soldiers who counted down the days with me.

Those nine months in the desert changed everything.

“I must be a mermaid, Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.”

—Anaïs Nin, The Four-Chambered Heart, 1950

Acknowledgments

Goodness, it’s been quite a ride. First thanks will always go to God. He has given me the opportunity to write, as well the opportunity to live. Many thanks for leading me through the hardest times and bringing Liza to me.

To the person who is holding this book or electronic device, you hold a piece of my heart. I hope this story helps you the same way it helped me. Liza was a guiding light in my life, keeping me company when all I wanted was to go home.

To my husband, you were always my first fan. You dealt with my many moods, and some nights our Skype sessions would have to wait because Liza just couldn’t. I love you.

To my immediate family, my success is yours.

Sarah, Simone, Anahi, and the real life Amare—Liza’s first fans! I shared Liza with you, and you helped her blossom into the woman she was meant to be. Thank you.

Jeanette, you are quite possibly the best beta reader of all time. Thank you for calling Edric a “weenie” when he couldn’t muster the courage to tell Liza how he felt. It was in that moment that I knew you were the perfect person for the job.

Thanks also to Cami Tout from Camilee Designs, the maker of Liza’s Chrysoprase necklace, who renamed the necklace after this book. I never write without, and I receive so many compliments on it. The best part is that I always feel a little bit braver while wearing it. I can’t wait for the world to be wearing your jewelry!

Many thanks to the friends and family who sent copious amounts of KitKats, Rolos, peanut M&Ms, and whatever else I asked for to the desert. You fueled this writing machine!

Rosemi, my editor/agent/publisher/teammate: I will learn how to not embrace the suck too much so that I can embrace the good as well. You understood my vision, and you fell just as hard as I did. I look forward to working with you throughout the rest of Liza’s journey! And thank you for telling Edric to march his a** back home and put on some slacks! You took a chance on me, and I am forever grateful. I can’t guarantee success, but I can guarantee maximum effort, always.

SGT James, you kept me out of trouble and took me under your wing. Ma’am (1LT Linvill), you let me listen to hipster music and fell in love with the first chapter. You were my family in Afghanistan, and I love you both for it.

I was deployed while I wrote this book. Liza was a beacon of hope and my best friend during some of my hardest days. She saved me, and she helped me mourn the loss of one of our own. Staff Sergeant Jesse L. Williams, the next one is for you! Rest easy.

Lastly, to the music. It can set you free.

In the Beginning

The summer sun made its way through my bedroom blinds, spilling diagonally throughout the room and casting shadows against the wall. The signature baby blue shorts and white T-shirt that were parts of my everyday life were ironed and hanging on the door of my closet. I was that kind of person: the kind who laid out her clothes the night before, making sure they weren’t wrinkled. But I loved it that way. There were no surprises and no disappointments.

I pulled on my uniform, slipped on my Converse sneakers, and haphazardly made my bed. Better than nothing, I told myself. I ran down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen. I fished through the cupboard for some type of breakfast and grabbed a box of Pop-Tarts when my roommate peeked up from the latest issue of Vogue, her face morphing into a look of disapproval.

“Uh-uh. Get your butt back upstairs and brush your hair. At least put on some mascara. Honestly, Liza. You look terrible,” she said, her perfectly applied makeup and smooth auburn hair mocking me. The light blue shorts and white top brought out her spray tan. Only she could make our uniform look halfway decent. One manicured fingernail hovered above the corner of the page as if she were about to turn it. I looked at my unpainted nails as I put the box back in the cupboard. Our friendship was proof that opposites attract.

“Come on, Farah,” I whined and shoved a piece of Pop-Tart in my mouth. “I don’t have time for this,” I continued, my words muffled by the food I was working over.

She put down the magazine and started rifling through her purse, pulling out a tube of mascara and a hairbrush before walking over to me. I dropped the rest of the Pop-Tart on the counter and sighed. Putting her hands on my shoulders, she led me over to the hall mirror while I mumbled, “At least if we’re wasting time, let me go upstairs and make my bed properly.”

“You do mascara. I’ll do hair,” she said sternly, ignoring me. She started to lightly brush through the dark wavy locks that stopped at my lower back. I hesitated, and she looked at me expectantly. I brought the wand toward my lashes and did a few sweeps on each eye. Leaning back from the mirror, I blinked. The imprints on my face from the bed sheets wouldn’t fade in time for our breakfast shift at Jo’s Shack. Oh well, I shrugged, my violet-blue eyes looking back at me. I had no one to impress.

“See?” Farah asked softly. “It brings out your eyes. I only wish I looked as exotic as you.” Her pout was adorable, and the green irises looking at me were full of laughter.

“Stop it,” I said with a frown. I walked into the kitchen and snatched my keys and Pop-Tart from the counter, yelling over my shoulder, “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

Jo’s Shack was situated near a marina, making the ocean air a constant comfort. While this wasn’t a huge town, the docks were always full, because almost every citizen of Mystic, Connecticut, took part in sailing.

Getting out of the car, I took a deep breath and smiled a little to myself. There was nothing better than living near the ocean. I felt like I was as close to home as I was going to get.

The bell over the door jangled, and I was greeted by the smell of bacon and pancakes. Jo’s Shack was the local place to dine. There was a steady stream of customers daily, and almost every night was busy. There were buoys and lifesavers on the walls, as well as old articles of supposed mermaid sightings and photographs of boats. The floors were wooden, and the walls were striped navy and off-white. While some days I craved the isolation I once knew before arriving at Mystic, I liked the interaction I had with the people here. They were nosey but kind, unlike others I’d met in my life.

Farah and I headed toward the break room. A few regulars who were already seated smiled at us. I was looking around, trying to see who else was on shift, when the kitchen door swung open and Josh came through holding a tray and looking slightly overwhelmed.

“You’re late, guys,” he said over his shoulder as he made his way over to an elderly couple sitting in the corner. He stood there for a moment after he served their plates, ensuring that they were happy with what was in front of them. He was a great boss—even now, picking up our slack. Farah snorted and continued heading toward the break room door. I smiled slightly at Josh as he walked behind the bar toward his office. He smiled tightly in return. Feeling badly, I attempted to break the ice.

“Sorry about that, Josh!” I yelled and ducked into the break room. Farah pulled her hair into a ponytail in front of the mirror in her locker then gestured toward me with her apron in her hand.

“I don’t know why you bother apologizing. He’s in love with you.” Her eyes looked up to the ceiling as she said this, one hand on her hip. “He has been since the day you walked your pretty little self into this dump and he offered you a job on the spot. Plus, you’ve saved his ass quite a few times. And, being your best friend and all, I’m untouchable,” she declared as she tied on her apron.

“He’s not in love with me.” I scoffed at the thought. “He’s nice, and I like working for him. But we’re not like that at all.” I threw my bag and keys into my locker and slammed the door shut.

“Maybe you’re not, but I can see he wants to get all up in that,” she teased with a giggle, pointing her finger up and down my body. “You may be the smart one, but if there’s one thing I know its men. And that man has the hots for you.”

“On that note, I’m leaving.” I tried not to laugh as I pushed the door open and almost ran right into the man himself. Josh’s light brown eyes widened, and he stepped to his left as I stepped to my right. We did that dance a few more times before exchanging smiles and apologies and going our separate ways. I shook my head with a smile. Farah was so silly. There’s no way there was anything there.

I glanced around the room making sure I didn’t have any customers yet. Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. I looked over at the cook and leaned back against the counter, warm cup in hand.

“Hi, Adrian,” I greeted him. “How are you?”

He gave me a small smile while working the skillet, his hair catching in the light. “Good. Glad you guys got here. He was worried you both had quit on him.” He nodded his head toward Josh’s office but kept his eyes on the task at hand.

Adrian was older than us. From what I gathered, he was prior military and walked into the place about two years ago in desperate need of a job. As far as I could tell, he was unmarried and without children. I couldn’t understand why. He was handsome enough with dirty blonde locks that grayed at the temples and laugh lines, though he hardly laughed. His eyes were lovely: an intense mix of hazel and green.

Sometimes I felt as though he could see things that others didn’t notice. Maybe that added to his charm. He seemed to have an honest soul. Plus, he had the patience of a saint, keeping his cool when things became hectic during the evening rush. He wasn’t a man of very many words, and I found that he was uncomfortable when placed in emotional situations. While he handled work stress well, I had a feeling he wouldn’t handle personal stress as gracefully. Maybe the military had done that to him. I sipped some more coffee and asked him who else was on shift.

“They’ve got you and Farah. Amare is here too. And Derrick is bussing.” He placed the eggs he scrambled on a plate already filled with bacon, potatoes, and toast. “Order up!” he yelled as he tapped the bell on the counter.

At that moment, Amare walked over, drying her hands on her apron. She was grumbling something about toilets not working and grabbed the warm plate, putting it on a tray. When she looked up past Adrian and noticed me, her face lit up.

“Hey there,” she said excitedly and held up her finger, telling me to wait a second. I sipped my coffee and watched her walk away.

Amare and I met at work almost a year after I started at Jo’s, and we became friends instantly. I wasn’t the type of person to speak first, so when she introduced herself enthusiastically, I knew I would like her. I was amazed that she would chat me up every time she saw me, battling through my quiet demeanor until I was speaking back comfortably. It was unexpected from a local. Then again, she had just moved to Mystic from Maryland. It wasn’t a surprise that she was a great waitress, always serving with a bright smile. Her caramel-colored skin, curly black hair, and almond-shaped eyes brought her multiple admirers. For some reason she never dated. Whenever I broached the topic, she always said she wasn’t ever interested. Part of me thought that maybe there was a heartbreak lurking somewhere inside, but that was just me trying to fit the pieces of her puzzle together. A girl that nice and that pretty couldn’t just be alone. I bet people think the same of me, I thought to myself.

I didn’t know much about her past, but that was fine with me. I didn’t want anyone knowing anything about mine except the generic biography—something boring that was easily forgettable. That was what I aimed to be: unremarkable, forgettable, and able to pick up and go as I pleased, should I need to. Amare walked back into the kitchen with her empty tray and grabbed a piece of toast, munching quietly with her hand over her mouth. After working her jaw a few times, she smiled at me. I watched her eyes crinkle in the corners over my cup of coffee as I sipped once more.

“I managed to leave my house without grabbing breakfast,” she explained. “How are you? I feel like I never see you.” She leaned against the counter beside me, her grin making me want to smile in return.

“I’ve just been doing the usual,” I said. “If I’m not home, I’m at the beach or I’m here.” I shrugged with a small smile. It had been a while since we’d hung out, which made me feel slightly guilty. I placed my empty mug in the sink and turned back to her. I was so used to being a loner that hanging out with friends wasn’t a priority. The only reason I managed to make time with Farah was because we lived together and her personality was the forceful kind—the kind that had you making plans with her whether you knew it or not.

She shook her head. “You need to get out more, Liza. Come out with me next weekend. Invite Farah too. We all know that girl can have a good time.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. How could anyone refuse her? I wasn’t too eager to do the nightclub scene, which I was sure was where we’d end up, but I didn’t want to disappoint her.

The kitchen door opened and in walked Derrick, our usual busser, carrying a tray full of dirty dishes. His dark hair covered his forehead messily, the way most of the college boys wore theirs, and his chocolate eyes complimented his tan. He was constantly smiling, like he was enjoying some secret joke. Although he had a steady girlfriend with whom he lived, everyone could tell he was really waiting for Amare to confess her undying love for him. She pretended not to notice, but he was too obvious.

“Hey,” he greeted us, beaming. I replied quietly while Amare merely tipped her chin in acknowledgment. He dropped the dishes in the sink and wandered over to where we were standing. I noted the way Amare kept her face impassive. Although Derrick was friendly, I was sure Amare would rather he didn’t harbor such a crush. When he stopped beside her, she shifted her body slightly so that she was facing me.

“How are you guys doing?” he asked, ignorant of the signs I noticed.

“Good. You?” I adjusted to face both of them. Before he could answer, I felt his thoughts start to merge with mine. Here we go again, I thought to myself.

I wasn’t a psychic. I couldn’t necessarily hear what people were thinking. Instead I saw pictures, maybe heard a few words or a phrase, even felt emotions. I never could tell what it would be, and I never knew how I’d receive them. Most times, emotions came across as a foreign yet familiar aroma. Each had a distinctive scent—lust smelling like the musk of a tropical flower, fear reminding me of a dark mold that set in to destroy. It was most disconcerting when someone would attempt to hold a conversation with me and I’d pick up on inappropriate thoughts.

But with Derrick, it was always the same: an extremely descriptive image of him kissing Amare in what seemed to be a passionate manner. It was reflexive, the need to roll my eyes; but I practiced discipline and continued listening, nodding when appropriate. No need to make it any more embarrassing than it already was for me.

My affliction only seemed to happen when people were under pressure, making their feelings more apparent, such as with people who were stressing over exams or when someone found out they were a victim of infidelity.

I was about five when I realized everyone else didn’t have this ability. While other kids were busy playing on the jungle gym, I was trying not to scream under the constant attack of their loud and selfish thoughts. From that day forward, I knew it was just me. How could they focus on happiness with all of this buzz going on? Children are different from adults. With kids, everything to them is dire. Every thought is like an explosion. As you mature, you start to list stress by precedence. I learned to focus inwardly and block off thoughts. Never had I sought them out. I didn’t want this ability to begin with.

Farah was the only person who knew. One day I decided I could trust her enough to give her a small part of me, not only because I wanted to respect her private thoughts but also because her constant rollercoaster of emotions was beginning to drive me a little insane. At first she was shocked and skeptical. But, once I told her some of the things I’d already heard, she was fascinated. It wasn’t too difficult for Farah to keep a lid on her thoughts, except when she was under a lot of stress. Whenever I knew she was upset, I would try harder to block her thoughts. Sometimes I could still feel her slipups if I wasn’t careful, but I was used to her and her thoughts were like the low fuzz of a radio—annoying, but not intolerable. If I really thought about it, it was probably equal effort on both our parts: me carefully keeping my mind closed and her practicing the exercises I taught her. Breathe deeply and reign in your emotions.

I never had a problem with Amare’s thoughts. She seemed to be a well-balanced person who was rarely stressed. I never saw emotionally driven behavior come from her. She was constantly in control and didn’t let her emotions dictate her actions.

I focused back on the pair in front of me. By this time, the image in Derrick’s mind had shifted to something a little more sensual, and I turned away to hide the blush spreading over my cheeks. It was too late to try to ignore what he was thinking. Derrick’s mind was constantly battling whether to speak to Amare or have wet dreams about her.

“Amare, would you like to go with—”

“I’m going to go check on my tables,” I cut Derrick off quickly, already starting to walk away. Amare’s eyes pleaded with me to stay, but I held my hand up and scurried out. I walked onto the dining room floor and looked at my section. Still no one occupied my tables. I frowned. Why is it so slow today? I was about to look for Farah and let her know the tentative plans I’d made with Amare when Josh’s voice called out from his office.

“Elizabeth, can you come in here?” I rounded the bar, guilt over being late making me move quicker than I normally would. I knew he hadn’t called me into his office to yell at me or anything—Josh wasn’t like that—but that didn’t ease the tension in my gut.

I stopped at the doorway, holding the frame with my hands while leaning in. “Yes?” I asked. He sat behind his ancient oak desk, a gift from his great-grandfather, the original Jo in Jo’s Shack. Although young, Josh had stepped up and took over the business when his parents retired to Florida. He had a knack for it and kept Jo’s running smoothly.

“Nothing much. I just wanted to make sure you were OK. I know being late isn’t something that normally happens. There weren’t any emergencies, were there?” He had a genuine look of concern on his face. I liked that he cared.

“I just overslept,” I blurted out. It sounded so trivial. If only he knew what had kept me under for so long. I pushed back the dark thoughts before addressing him again, this time attempting to seem more at ease. “I promise it won’t happen again,” I rushed on while moving to sit on the open chair near his desk. “Everything is fine.”

“I’d expect this of Farah, but knowing you, I had to be sure you were all right. Don’t get me wrong, everyone loves her. She’s just such a knockout with customers. I have to take what she comes with, especially the way people up and quit without notice,” he said with a pained expression. We’d been getting hit with a lot of those, and whenever Josh called me to fill in for a shift, I always came running. He had given me a job. That was the least I could do. We never understood the mystery surrounding the people who would skip town, leaving us without help. It was hard to hire replacements with the town going on about the job openings here being cursed. Thank goodness the college students weren’t actually a part of the community or we’d never get applications in.

“Farah has good intentions.” I paused. “Is there anything else?”

He reached for my hand and spoke gently. “If there’s anything you ever need, know you can come to me no matter what.” His thumb stroked my skin, and I tilted my head, giving him a peculiar look. His blonde hair was almost past his ears, and he was getting freckles from being out in the sun too long. The white button-down shirt would look professional if it didn’t hang over khaki shorts and have the sleeves pushed to the crooks of his elbows. He was nice looking, but he was my boss and nothing would change the fact that I didn’t see him in a romantic way. The amber of his irises stared back at me openly. In the four years I had worked for Josh, never had he touched me so intimately. I vehemently tried to block off any projections coming from him. Hearing Derrick was different; Josh was my boss. I knew I would never be able to continue comfortably working for him if Farah was right in her assumption of his feelings for me. There was no way I’d bounce back from that. I sighed with relief when there was a blank in my mind, not picking up on anything.

“OK,” I said softly, getting up from the chair and tugging my hand from his. “Well, I’d better check on my tables,” I said in a rush.

“Yeah, uh, sounds good.” He shook his head quickly and started shuffling through paperwork. “OK.”

I turned toward the door with a frown on my face. I sensed a whisper of an emotion, but it was gone before I could pick up on what exactly it was.

Maybe Farah wasn’t as silly as I thought.

I kicked off my sneakers and flopped on the couch. Work hadn’t been busy, but being late had me a little off kilter. It was only three in the afternoon. I had a few hours left before sundown.

“Farah, want to hit the beach?” I yelled up the stairs.

Our little two-bedroom apartment wasn’t much, but it sure beat not having a place to call home. We lived in the downtown area, so sometimes the neighborhood was loud between the bar hoppers and the traffic. But, Mystic didn’t see too much action. Summertime was beautiful here, and the town was very friendly. We left our windows open most of the time, filling the place with sunlight. I looked around. We had done pretty well for ourselves. The walls were light yellow and, sure, the furniture was a little run-down, but Farah dubbed our place “shabby chic.” I just called it our apartment.

“Heck yeah, girl!” she yelled from her room. “Give me five minutes!”

Knowing her, it would be closer to thirty. I walked over to the fridge and grabbed my pink water bottle. Lifting the mouthpiece, I took a deep pull and walked over to the balcony. I leaned against the railing and let the gentle breeze play with the strands of my hair. I closed my eyes and started daydreaming. I tried to shake off the weird dream that had made me late for work, but it nagged at me and I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t even remember when I’d started having these mysterious dreams, and I always managed to wake up before anything terrible happened to me.

As I floated along, I was content, extraordinarily so. The sun was shining on my skin. When I turned to look at my shoulder, I noticed the beads of water catching its glare, and the brilliance of it made the water appear opulent. Feeling weightless, my chin tilted upward, and I basked in the glory of relaxation. I wiggled my toes, or attempted to, when I noticed that my legs weren’t exactly working properly. Lifting my head slightly, I tried to get a good look at what was causing the malfunction.

A panic set in my gut when I realized the entire bottom half of my body no longer existed. It looked as if a shark had ripped off everything from the waist down, and I was left bleeding heavily from the wound. My shock caused me to disrupt the balance of what was left of me, and I sunk into the water for a few moments.

Fear turned to confusion when I finally came back up, gasping. I was in the middle of the ocean, alone. There was no land in any direction. The blue sky stretched on forever, as did the darker blue horizon. No seagulls to speak of, not even a boat or a buoy. A sense of dread crept up in me, making me flustered and leaving me feeling trapped. I was going to die.

How could I be here, so near death, and not feel a thing?

‘Poor girl. Alone again…as always.’ There was a mirthless cackle and then, ‘Fret not. Soon you will be with me.’

When her words hit me, I turned quickly, looking for the origin of the voice. There was no one around to claim the comments spoken. Her declaration gave me goose bumps. Something about the person behind the voice wasn’t quite right. I wrapped my arms tightly around my torso and closed my eyes, remembering that I was in my happy place; nothing could hurt me here. Taking a look at the blood that now covered my arms, I felt faint. Something had already gotten to me. I could hear the echo of laughter, making it impossible for me to calm down.

Suddenly, a filthy hand with sharp, mangled claws reached up through the surface and grabbed my arm, dragging me under with it. There was only a split second before what was left of me was pulled into the pitch-black depths—the deepest part of the ocean that never saw the sun. I couldn’t scream. The water started filling my lungs completely, so I succumbed to the defeat of darkness, hoping that wherever I was headed, I’d be dead before I got there.

I wondered about this dream, still feeling the remnants of it, cringing when I heard the voice in my head. It wasn’t the first time she spoke to me, but it was the first time she said so much. Usually she laughed or said a word or two. Sometimes she said my name. It made me worry. Her voice was always cold, having the same effect on me as nails on a chalkboard. I hated falling asleep knowing that I would be victim to these horrible nightmares. My biggest fear was that I would eventually not wake up. But I did wake up, every time. And each time I woke up, I pushed the dreams to the back of my mind, not wanting to face anything that wouldn’t fit my now-normal life. The fact that I buried it deep within me took a toll on me, but it was necessary. Never had she kept me under so long. Could she keep me under forever? Not wanting to dwell on the thought, I finished my water, picked up my discarded sneakers, and headed upstairs to get ready. I peeked into Farah’s room and saw her holding out three bikinis.

“I don’t know which one to wear,” she whined. Her frown made me want to laugh. Only she would be so stressed about something so trivial.

“How about the gold one? You look amazing in it,” I suggested, walking out of her room. I walked into mine, the sight of my sloppily made bed making me wince. Sliding open one of my dresser drawers, I pulled out my black bikini. I quickly changed into it, excited to get going. By the time I was finished, Farah was in the kitchen packing her beach bag.

“Ready?” she asked excitedly.

“Did you remember to grab your sunscreen? You do much better with a spray tan than under direct sunlight,” I laughed as I hitched my bag onto my back.

She swatted at me and replied, “Yes, mom. Let’s go.” She snatched the car keys from where I dangled them on my index finger. She locked the door, and we walked down the stairs and out into the sunlight. I skipped to the passenger side and tossed my bag into the back of the car. She rolled down all the windows, and we were off. I pulled on my oversized sunglasses and smiled as my hair whipped in every direction. I hung my arm out of the window, waving my hand in tune with the song on the radio. Farah glanced at me and grinned. We both knew how happy I was.

Soon enough, we pulled into the makeshift parking lot, and I climbed out of the car. I stood there for a second admiring the beauty. This was my sanctuary. The salt in the air, the seagulls crying in the distance as the waves crashed onto the shore. Heavenly. I grabbed my bag from the backseat and headed toward the boardwalk. Pulling off my flip flops, I let the sting of the warmed wood beneath my feet feed my anticipation. Then there was nothing but soft, hot sand. It dipped under each step, making me march slowly. This was part of the entire experience.

I unfolded my blanket a good distance from the shore, and Farah and I laid it out smoothly, making sure we weighed down each corner with our bags and sandals. I tugged my dress off and folded it neatly into my bag. Farah was already rubbing sunscreen on her body when I stood up. I poured some onto my hands and spread it on my shoulders and face evenly. She pulled out a steamy romance novel and proceeded to lie on her stomach, facing the water. I looked back at her, and she peered at me over her sunglasses.

“Go on,” she gestured impatiently with a flick of her wrist, already engrossed in her book.

I gave her a huge smile and ran toward the water. I slowed down as the waves lapped over my toes, ankles, and calves. The cool water made me shiver until I became acquainted with the change in temperature.

Finally, I was waist-deep. I looked out as far as my eyes could see, reminding myself that beneath me there was another world. I cupped my hands under the water and lifted them. The water escaped through the cracks between my fingers. The sun danced magically over the moving surface. While I was a timid creature on land, I transformed when in the water. I became free again.

I waded out farther until the ocean reached my chest, and I waved my arms under the water, relishing the feeling that everything was unhurried here. Then I kicked my legs up and dove down. My entire body was submerged, and the feeling was exhilarating. I flapped my feet and pushed and twisted my body until I knew I was far from shore.

It was only when I was far away that I knew this was why I was here—to swim within another world. I swam languidly, enjoying the way my arms stretched and the water flowed against my body. Opening my eyes, I stared at the beauty of it. My hair flowed around me and I smiled. Beautiful.

I couldn’t remember the day I fell in love with water. There was no exact moment I could recall. When trying, all that came to mind was the idea of an infant walking toward the shore cautiously, the waves caressing small, stubby toes. Nevertheless, it was a love affair that helped me through some of my toughest times. Whether it was a long, hot shower, jumping in the pool, or—after I moved to Mystic—swimming in the ocean, I was desperately enamored.

The salt water didn’t bother me. Just as I never felt that lick of panic if I couldn’t make it up quickly enough for more air. There was no sense of urgency, just me and the water. It wasn’t only that I felt safe here…I felt like I belonged here. The farther into the water, the better. I could escape the fact that I was a little too different when I was here. There were no thoughts, no judgment. Just the salt water rushing against my skin as I swam along. I didn’t have to worry about blocking thoughts or feeling emotions. This was the only peace in my life.

I turned so that I was facing the surface, thrusting my legs like a frog. The sun warmed my face as it rippled through, making me think of stained glass windows. This was art in motion. Seaweed grazed my skin lazily, and I could feel fish swimming past me.

I pushed and headed upward, feeling the bubbles release when I exhaled through my nose. I closed my eyes as I broke the surface, bobbing with the waves as I did.

Floating on my back, I watched as seagulls swooped in on a school of fish. While I was sad to see the fish suffer, I knew this was the way of life.

I looked toward the coast and sighed. I hated this part, having to go back. But I didn’t want to leave Farah alone for too long. I lunged forward and swam toward shore, slicing at the water. The sun wasn’t shining as brightly now, but it still beat down on my shoulders. I reached shore a few minutes later and held my bikini bottom as the water clung to it, the heaviness threatening to pull it down. Making my way over to Farah, who was now on her back and still reading, I grabbed the warm towel next to her.

“Had fun?” she asked, pulling off her shades. I patted my body dry and plopped down next to her, using the towel as a pillow. I shivered as my cool skin adjusted to the warmth of the sun’s rays. I turned my face toward her and squinted.

“This is my happy place.” Stretching my arms, I exhaled contentedly. Farah turned on her side and smiled at me.

“Liza, you are one odd ducky. But I’m glad you’re my best friend.” She sat up and started to pat my hair dry with the towel beneath me.

“Me too,” I said as I looked up at her.

The sky was shifting, making it orange along the horizon and branching out to purple farther into the atmosphere. I relaxed as Farah wove my locks into a braid. We walked along the beach and saw the light melt into darkness before we headed home, all the time knowing how lucky we were.

Tempting Fate

There was heat. It wasn’t bothersome, more like the sun beating down on a hot day at the beach. I opened my eyes and realized I had described the scene exactly. I lay on the sand as if I were tanning.

Getting to my feet, I brushed the sand off my backside and took in my surroundings. Although it was physically warm, there was something cold about the place. It wasn’t a beach I recognized, and when I looked out at the water, I knew I was dreaming again. It was unnatural how still it seemed to be—a dark blue sheet of ice. And, just like all of my other dreams, I was alone.

I stepped cautiously toward the water and stopped when I heard a noise coming from where the large rocks piled to my far left. I craned my neck to see what was going on to no avail. I can either stand here alone forever or go see what that noise is. What’s the worst that could happen? Immediately, I regretted that thought, remembering the demon that haunted my dreams since I could remember.

I walked toward the rocks, their shape making a small yet dangerous cliff. I could hear someone humming gloomily. The melody was heartbreaking, and I could no longer control the urge to get closer. Although sad, it was hypnotic, making me anxious to find the person with the magical voice. I stepped onto the stone, its roughness poking into the bottom of my foot, causing a sting of pain. I ignored it and proceeded. I’m so close.

It sounded like the voice was coming from the other side of the rocks. Edging closer and closer, I was about to turn the corner when I noticed the humming wasn’t the only sound I heard. There was someone whimpering as well. Peering around the rock, I saw a blonde woman’s head on top of a man’s chest. She looked to be kissing him there passionately as she continued humming beautifully.

“Oh,” I said, forgetting that I was trying to be as silent as possible. I slapped my hands over my mouth guiltily.

She stilled and I stopped breathing. I took in the scene, blushing furiously. Looking into the man’s face, he laid there, his eyes glassy with pleasure and his body unmoving.

Then she turned and I had to fight back the urge to scream.

Her mouth, gnarled and full of sharp teeth, was covered in blood and flesh. She was breathing heavily, and as I glanced past her, I saw that she had been gnawing her way to his still-beating heart. Looking at him, I noticed he was wearing a small smile on his otherwise blank face. What the…?

The heavenly sound started up again from somewhere deep within her. I was so entranced that I hardly noticed the vile way she licked her lips hungrily. She stood and walked closer to me. I couldn’t move.

Wake up, wake up! I shouted to myself.

I screamed as she launched herself in my direction.

I blinked against the sunlight streaming through the blinds and sat up abruptly, the moisture that beaded my forehead reminding me of the horror I’d just witnessed. I shook my head, trying to get the sound of her out of it. I couldn’t lie and say that I wasn’t afraid. Following my usual pattern, I shoved it into the back of my thoughts and took a deep breath. It was just a dream. Lifting my hands I took in the luminescent glow that spread whenever I was emotionally stressed. Another secret I hide from the world. I took a deep breath and steadied my racing heartbeat, watching as the glow faded until my hands were normal once more. I let them cradle my face as I calmed down. There was only so much ignoring I could do. Pretending that I was like everyone else was weighing on me emotionally.

I got up, slipped a robe on over my tank top and underwear, and started to make my bed when I heard a tap on my door. Looking up at Farah’s face as she assessed mine was enough to bring me back to Earth. I knew she’d heard my screams, but she was used to them. My mind flashed back to years before when she’d run into the room frantically to see what was going on. I sat her down one day and explained that I’d always had nightmares and would probably continue to have them. While I wouldn’t have them every day, I would have them multiple times a month, and I told her she had nothing to worry about. She wanted to ask me why and, sensing her confusion and curiosity, I made up a lame excuse to avoid it. Because I don’t know myself why I have these dreams.

“Good, you’re up.” She leaned against my doorjamb with her arms crossed. “I was going to come wake you up myself. We finally have a day off together,” she all but squealed. “We have to go out! I vote Olde Mistick Village and lunch.” She strode to my freshly made bed and plopped down. “I’m in the mood for homemade fudge.” She sat up, leaning on her elbow. “Sound good?”

I watched her waggle her eyebrows. I loved seeing her like this, her hair undone and her face bare, flawless. The freckles on her shoulders were prominent despite the layers of sunscreen she always piled on.

“Do I even have a choice?” I tucked my legs under me as I sat next to her on the bed.

“Have you ever?” Farah teased as she jumped up and patted my knee. “Be ready in a half hour! I’m famished.” She flounced out of my room.

“And try to look pretty for me,” she tossed over her shoulder as she marched off. “I’m going to burn all of your ugly clothes when you aren’t looking!”

I laughed. Who did this girl think she was?

I decided to wear a loose-fitting white top with a floral skirt, showing off my tan legs, and I pulled my hair into a top knot. Tendrils of hair already escaped and tickled my neck and face. It was gorgeous out, and wearing something nice really did make a difference.

Farah walked beside me looking at all the shops. Having already eaten, there was no longer any direction to our afternoon. Olde Mistick Village was one of the nicest places I’d ever seen. It wasn’t fancy and it wasn’t high-end. It was modeled after an old village, and the “houses” were little shops; some sold jewelry and clothing, and others were candy shops and small restaurants.

I was walking toward a jewelry store when Farah snatched my hand. I shot her a puzzled glare.

“Oh, Liza! There’s the witchcraft shop!” she hissed, as if, had they heard her, they would turn her into a frog.

Looking up, I eyed the sign. ‘Mystical Elements’ was etched on a metal sign as threatening as a kitten. Rolling my eyes, I yanked my hand back. “Come on, the store isn’t for witchcraft. It’s a Wiccan store…” I walked up to the window and started reading the signs, “I think.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” she asked, her voice still low.

“I don’t think so,” I said as I continued to look at the signs. It didn’t look scary inside, but I could hardly make out anything in the bright summer sun.

“What the hell,” she shrugged as she walked through the door boldly, making the charms jingle violently.

I followed her inside, taking in my surroundings. There was folk music playing in the background and incense burning. I had expected dark and scary, and while it was slightly dim, there was nothing terrifying here. On the contrary, it was very open and welcoming. On the shelves there were all kinds of items: stones and jewelry and books. There were signs and bumper stickers and candles. As I fingered one of the dozens of wind chimes hanging from the ceiling, I grinned. I rather liked the place, with its little charm. I looked at the woman behind the counter as she greeted us with a warm smile, telling us her name was Angela and to let us know if we had any questions. I returned the smile timidly and watched Farah. She was touching everything as if she were absorbing knowledge. I sauntered toward the back of the store. I was engrossed in the mechanics of a miniature waterfall when Farah walked up to me and noticed a sign against the wall.

“They have readings.” She turned to me with wide eyes and a slow smile. I knew that look and wanted nothing to do with it.

“Farah, I’m not really comf—” Before I could even finish the sentence, she snatched my arm and dragged me toward the register.

“Excuse me? Angela? Could you tell me how to go about having a reading?” she asked with a sweet smile, tucking my hand under her arm so I couldn’t make a run for it. I looked up at the ceiling, praying for patience.

“Meda is currently with someone, but she should be finished shortly,” Angela answered almost robotically. Her blue eyes sparkled and her long gray hair accentuated her slim frame. Both hands were bumped with veins and on each finger she wore a different ring. The lines on her face were visible as she smiled and told us to have a seat. I glared at Farah as she led me over to a bench. Sitting slowly, I looked around nervously, the scowl on my face making my mood evident.

“Oh, lighten up, will you? So what if she ends up being a crock? It’s all about the experience,” she said, attempting to sound worldly and wise. I knew better. I sat twitching my leg nervously. It was one thing to be adventurous, but this was tempting fate.

‘No, Liza!’ I could feel the memory coming up like vomit. I took a deep breath and looked around the store, trying to think of other things. No need to go into a room with a “psychic” and thinking about the one thing I didn’t want her to know. Speaking from my own talents, it was usually when you had something to hide that it was constantly in the front of your mind, making it easier to access.

The door opened and a young couple emerged. They looked giddy, holding hands and staring at one another in excitement. Angela gave them a meaningful smile and ushered them out of the store. As they walked, the warm feeling of happiness lingered, making me green with envy. The sensation of their happiness was like someone had bottled up a sunny spring day and poured it into one moment, the scent of fresh gardenias making me sigh. Most people were either angry or frustrated. People were hardly ever overcome with pure happiness these days.

I fidgeted with my keys until Farah closed her hand over mine and whispered, “It’s going to be OK.”

I smiled faintly and clasped my hands together. I wasn’t afraid of this woman. I just felt I was about to find things out, things I had laid to rest. Long ago I had put the questions of my past and who my parents were behind me. I started anew, and I was worried about what a psychic reading might dredge up. There were things in my past that I ran away from; things that would change the way people saw me forever. Worse, if I didn’t like what the psychic had to say, would Farah? Sure, Farah knew who I was now. But no one, not even I, knew where I had come from. And no one except me knew who I was before I came to Mystic.

The older woman came back and walked past us through the door we would soon be entering. I shook my head. I was just being silly. Farah was the one person who knew the most about me. But she doesn’t know everything, I thought to myself. I put a lid on my thoughts and took a deep breath.

Angela came back out and gestured toward us. “Would you like to be together or separate?”

Farah said together and so it was.

Mystical Elements

We walked through the door warily. Farah looked around the room, and we both sat down at a wooden table across from Meda, who was already seated. I noticed there were no ‘magical’ props back here; no crystal ball, no deck of cards. It would appear that Meda was the real deal.

She was a serious-looking woman with dark, graying hair and olive skin. Her black eyes angled slightly upward. She looked at us as if we knew each other intimately. It was intimidating. Her eyes flitted to Farah, and she held her hand out. Farah laid her own on Meda’s, palm facing down.

“Do not speak unless I ask you a question.” Her voice was strong. It held a luxurious tone but was stern all the same. “You are not a believer, Farah Clarke.” She turned her hand over and ran her free one over Farah’s palm, her rings gleaming in the dim light. “You were born in Mystic. Your parents died quite some time ago in a car accident. You were raised by your aunt. She moved when you turned twenty, but you could not bear to leave.” She released Farah’s hand and folded hers together in front of her. “You feel like this place is the closest you will ever be to your parents. Is this true?” She looked at her with her brow arched, knowing it was. Is this normal? If Meda knew so much about people, she’d be quite the phenomenon. In a town where everyone was so concerned with the goings on of others, Meda would be famous. Yet here she was: Mystic’s best kept secret. It made me nervous. Something prickled at the back of my neck, and I knew I had every right to be worried.

Farah nodded and swallowed, her eyes watering. My heart was lodged in my throat. I knew in this moment that Meda was a proud woman. She saw Farah was doubtful, so she took her disbelief and fed it back to her smugly. All at once my fears became very real. I knew that Meda was only a few minutes away from outing me.

“What do you want to know today, Farah?” she leaned back as she asked the question. “Your future?” She touched her bottom lip as her eyes took in every flicker of emotion passing through Farah’s features. She asked the last question mockingly, like she was holding out a large steak to a hungry dog, taunting it.

“Yes, please,” Farah said. I was surprised that her voice came out so clearly. I could tell by the way she scooted forward, clenching and unclenching her hands, her glassy eyes glued to Meda that she was in way over her head. Farah was no longer flippant. She wasn’t laughing at Meda, and Meda knew she’d won Farah over.

“You, my dear, have some interesting times coming your way. Brace yourself for the adventure of a lifetime, but be sure to have an open mind.” She paused, looking impassive. “You must follow your heart at all times. It is your compass.” Meda sat back and Farah snapped out of whatever trance she’d been under. She blinked a few times before scrunching her face in a frown.

“That’s it?” Farah asked incredulously. I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do was anger this woman, which was what would happen if Farah insulted her.

“The future is not set in stone, and I will never be too detailed. If I am, there is a chance you will not focus on the present and will change the course of your life.” With that, she looked at me, dismissing Farah.

“Elizabeth Bolton, I have waited a long time to meet someone who can genuinely surprise me. You have done that just by walking into my shop.” She looked at Farah. “Remember I said to brace yourself for an adventure?” Farah nodded slowly, confusion pinching her brow.

Meda smiled to herself and touched her lip again. “She is your ticket.” She pointed lazily at me while her smile widened. I could feel my face burning. Please, don’t let her know. Don’t let her say anything, I prayed to myself.

“Elizabeth, try as you might, you are not meant to be the boring creature you crave to be.” She leaned forward intensely. “You are destined for greatness.” The last word came out in a hiss.