Fisher's Light (Page 90)
I scream Fisher’s name as loud as I can as I follow the walkway, running in between the giant rock formations. The water has moved so far inland that there is only about a hundred yards of beach left where there is usually at least three times that. I continue screaming for Fisher, but the wind blows the sound right back at me. The waves crash angrily onto the shore, one right after another, pounding against the sand like God himself has come down and is slamming his fist into the beach.
Shielding my eyes, I blink rapidly, trying to see through the rain hitting my face, but it’s no use. I can’t see anything beyond the waves. A shift in the wind switches the direction of the rain so that it’s beating against my back instead of my face and I can see a little more clearly. I try to hold my sopping wet hair away from my eyes as the wind whips it in every direction. Quickly scanning the beach, something not too far down catches my attention. My stomach drops and I take off running, falling to my knees in the wet sand. Resting in a puddle on the beach is a backpack and harness with the two air tanks packed inside. The same type of pack that Fisher wears when he dives.
Why would he do this? Why would he come out here, even if he didn’t know about the storm? He’s been diving all of his life, so he knows how dangerous it is out here by the lighthouse. The current is unpredictable near the rocks and there have been numerous accidents over the years involving people who chose to ignore the warnings because they wanted to see what was down at the bottom of the ocean near the lighthouse. He knows better, dammit!
The crashing waves inch closer and closer to me and I know I need to get off of this beach, but I can’t move. My body is frozen in place when something bright yellow tumbles around in the wild crest of the wave that just battered the beach. The object floats on top of the quickly advancing water as it ebbs towards me, getting lodging in the sand as the water leaves it behind and goes back out to sea. I crawl on all fours across the wet sand, tears and rain blurring my vision. I grab the yellow and black scuba fin from the sand, cradle it to my chest and scream as loud as I can at the angrily churning ocean.
Chapter 42
Fisher
Present Day
I know I shouldn’t be diving in this area, especially alone, but I needed to be here, needed to be somewhere that reminded me of Lucy since I can’t actually be with Lucy right now. I know she needs space to figure things out, but all this time away from her is killing me. How am I supposed to convince her that we’re meant to be together if I can’t touch her and kiss her and show her how much I love her? Sticking that note and picture in her mailbox first thing this morning was my last ditch effort.
The random, gurgling whoosh of my breathing apparatus forcing air into my lungs every few seconds is the only sound filling my ears at the bottom of the ocean. It’s calm and peaceful and, other than Lucy, it has always been the one thing that helps clear my head when I’m distracted or feeling uneasy. I love being down here, sharing space with nothing but fish and coral. I lost track of time as soon as I submerged myself, but going by the faint beep of the alarm on my tank signaling I only have about thirty minutes left of air, I’ve been down here for quite a while. Even though I’ve already gone through almost four tanks, I’m still not ready to surface. I don’t want to come up and deal with the reality that I’m still waiting for the woman I love to decide if I’m worth the risk. I want to be worth it to her, dammit.
Everything was going so perfectly. We got past so many hurdles that I never imagined anything else could possibly fuck it up. I’d been sneaking away from her every chance I got to work on our cottage, fixing the bedroom door I kicked open the day I lost my shit and Bobby helped me paint and move the furniture he’d put into storage for me after I went to rehab back into the house. I wanted to surprise Lucy, to drive her out to our home, get down on my knees and beg her to be my wife again. I wanted to give her the wedding rings I still carry everywhere and ask her to spend her life with me and to love me forever. I’d finally gotten everything finished the day she went to the beach with Ellie and fucking Melanie decided to spew her bullshit.
I should’ve spent more time talking to Lucy about what didn’t happen that night at Barney’s. I should’ve done everything in my power to reassure her that she has been the only woman for me since the first time I kissed her. No other woman could ever compare, and I wish she could see herself the way I do. I wish she could see how beautiful and perfect she is to me. When Ellie repeated the shit Melanie said to Lucy, it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever wanted to strangle a woman. Melanie, with her fake tits and fake hair and her feelings of entitlement about everything around her make her the ugliest person in the world to me.
The rage I turned on her erased that haughty look from her face for the first time in my memory. Melanie cried like a baby, but I didn’t feel a bit sorry for her. She’s gone through so many husbands that I don’t think she has any idea what true love really is. I fucked her once in high school and the bitch is so convinced of her own appeal that she truly believed I was pining away for her ass almost fifteen years later. One drunken mistake last year that lasted less than five minutes was enough to convince her that I was ready for seconds. I told her in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t fuck her again if she were the last woman on earth. I reminded her that it’s ALWAYS been Lucy and it always will be, and I told her if she didn’t stay away from both of us, I would make her life more fucking miserable than it already is. She tried to apologize, but I told her to fuck off. She’d already done enough damage, and a few words of contrition weren’t going to fix anything.