Rising Tide: Dark Innocence Read online

  *Three hours!* I thought to myself. *I was out for a long time…*

  Ron was probably holding me the entire duration, as he struggled to stand himself. “Ow! Hold on, Shane, both my legs are asleep.”

  I crossed my arms across my chest, irrationally agitated by the entire night, and wished I could disappear from existence. I huffed out a sigh, unconsciously.

  Ron tried to joke with me at that. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he teased. “Holding you was anything but a burden.”

  Despite the hideous events of earlier, I couldn’t stop myself from blushing at that. I even smiled a bit, looking down at his shirt and playing with a button. I liked that boy far too much. My mind suddenly flashed a picture of Caelyn’s face at me. Her expression was furious, her eyes frightening.

  I jumped in Shane’s arms. “Mom is going to kill me! I promised I wouldn’t be late!”

  “Okay, okay, stop rushing me,” Ron groaned and struggled to his feet. “Here, lemme have her.” He took me from Shane’s grasp, making me feel like a large child being passed around at a family gathering. I was too tired and wounded to protest, though, and decided I’d earned the comfort I’d felt before when my head had been against his chest. I allowed myself to snuggle my cheek against his bare skin. Had he just sighed? It was hard to tell with the steady thump of his heart in my head.

  Shane drove—it was his car we were riding in—and Ron sat with me in the back seat. I didn’t realize I was crying, silently, the tears sliding effortlessly down my cheeks until my savior reached up and wiped one away.

  “I’m going to snap that Trent’s neck for him…maybe even that snotty sister of his!” He shook his head, and then looked away from me.

  “No, don’t,” I whispered hoarsely. “Don’t fight because of me.” I sniffled pathetically, wishing for a box of tissues. I certainly couldn’t wipe my nose on his shirt.

  As if on cue, Shane handed a roll of toilet paper over the back of his seat. “Here, Maura.”

  “Thanks.” I took it and tore a piece off. They must’ve brought it along for camping.

  Ron looked back at me, and his expression was pained. “Please, don’t cry.” He reached up to smooth a hand over my still-damp hair. Ironically, his compassionate words and gesture made me cry harder.

  He pulled me against his chest again, and we rode the rest of the way to my house in silence.

  5. My Mother

  My mother was named Caelyn, which, ironically, means “loved forever.” Something she definitely was not. I knew she’d never gotten over my father. No one had ever been good enough after she’d had a taste of what love was like with him. She was devastatingly beautiful, something I definitely was not. I’d always wished I’d inherited more of my looks from her, but she seemed to always be the one who, painfully enough, kept reminding me of how much I looked like the missing piece to our lives. Her jet-black hair curled effortlessly in perfect waves halfway down her back, a dark complement to her large, emerald-colored eyes. She was tall, but not lanky like me, and had far more curvaceousness to her figure than I could ever hope for.

  One thing was a constant. Even though I knew my mother loved me beyond anything else in her life, there was an ever-present aura of sadness that clung to her, no matter where we were or what we were doing. I could sense her melancholy, almost as if the emotion permeated up through the pores of her smooth, olive-toned skin, failing to ever completely evaporate.

  There were nights I could hear her call out his name, even from my bedroom down the hall. Her voice filled with a longing I couldn’t understand, her sleeping self caught in the embrace of a deep dream. I hadn’t dared to ask her about him during her waking hours for a few years. My curiosity was put off by the doubled misery clouding the very air around us when she was forced to call up any memory strong enough to have to put into words. I wanted desperately to know more about him, but I couldn’t wound her like that. I’d decided a little while ago that my own selfish curiosity wasn’t worth my mother’s unavoidable pain, excepting one brief evening when I’d thought she might have been immune.

  I’d cheated really. She’d had some girls from work over for an informal meeting that turned into more of a girls’ night out. I had to admit that when I’d suggested margaritas, I’d been hoping the alcohol would open her up after everyone left, just enough to reveal a few details. Not asking about him was just so hard.

  She’d had a good time for a while, joking and laughing with the rest of the women, until someone had made the mistake of broaching the taboo subject.

  “So, Caelyn, are you seeing anyone these days?” a girl who had just joined the firm asked, innocent in her unknowing. The receptionist, who had worked with my mom for years, had shaken her head at the new girl threateningly, too late. I’d been observing through the open glass-sliding door, pretending to watch TV in the living room and winced as soon as the words had been spoken.

  My mother’s light mood had slipped back into the almost-never-waning, dark recesses of her mind. “No.” Her tone had become flat and lifeless.