Love, Lattes and Mutants. Sandra Cox
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inside.”
I pry open sticky eyes and nod. My arms and legs feel like lead. Every bone in my body aches. Tyler shifts against me. The heat helped but he’s still chilly. A shudder runs through him. His face is white, his sunken eyes stained purple.
“We need to get him in the house.” The old seat groans as I shift uneasily. I slide off the seat and out of the truck.
“Piper?” Tyler’s head rests on the back of the seat, his long thick lashes resting on the taut skin under his eyes.
I open my mouth to respond. Gramps shakes his head. I snap my mouth shut, appalled. What if I’d responded and he made the connection between the woman who rescued him and me?
I tug on Gramps’ arm and whisper in his ear, “Do we need to take him to the hospital?”
He shakes his head and says in a low voice, “I’ve hauled enough men out of the sea to know he’s going to be alright.” Without saying another word, we drag him into the cottage and the little spare bedroom in the back. Gramps keeps his fishing rods there and I have a pen and a couple of cages for the occasional hurt turtle or bird I bring home to nurse back to health. A small sparrow, with a wing healing, chirps from his perch.
We manage to get Tyler onto the twin bed where he drops face down on the gray and white striped duvet. His long, lanky body makes the bed look even smaller.
With a grunt, Gramps rolls him over, fumbling at the clasp of the bright orange life vest Tyler still wears. I start forward to help. With an abrupt jerk of his head, Gramps motions me out of the room.
I nod and slip out. I hang up his raincoat and hat on the peg in the hallway then head for my room. Feeling fragile as cracked glass about to shatter, I head for the bathroom. There I drop my wet suit on the floor and climb into the shower. I turn the water on hot as possible and stand under it, my head down, my palms on the side of the wall. Steam that smells of vanilla-strawberry gel fills the tiny room.
I no longer feel the cold in my bones as I step out of the shower and go to my room, a soft old blue towel wrapped around me and tied above my breasts.
With a martyred sigh, I pull out baggy linen pants and one of Gramps’ plaid shirts that hangs past my knees. Grimacing, I push the sleeves up and scrape back my hair. I lift the wretched glasses with all the enthusiasm I’d show a poisonous snake. Oh well, it can’t be helped.
My nerd costume firmly in place, I make my way down the hall. Gramps is pulling blankets up to Tyler’s chin. He straightens and motions toward the hall.
“How is he?” I whisper.
“Exhausted.” Gramps takes my arm and leads me to the kitchen. He pulls eggs out of the refrigerator. With a flick of the wrist, he cracks them, the sound melding with the homey hum of the refrigerator. “He surfaced long enough to ask if you’d rescued him.”
“And you said?”
“That I found him on the shore and brought him home.”
“Thanks, Gramps.” I heave a sigh of relief.
“Have you called his parents yet?” He beats the eggs.
“No, I thought we’d better get our stories straight first.”
“You’ve been here all day. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” He looks over his shoulder and grins. His blues eyes twinkle like a young man’s.
One look at that grin and my heart warms. He’s the most important person in my universe. I refuse to think about his age or that he won’t be around forever. “I like your story.”
“I thought you might. You better call.” He turns around and goes back to his eggs.
“Will do. By the way, what time is it?”
He glances at his watch. “Two-thirty.”
“In the afternoon?” No way. I’d been in the water, in the middle of a storm for almost six hours. But then again, so had Tyler. Who knew when his catamaran turned over.
“That’s right.” Our eyes meet. The worry he felt surfaces before it’s quickly hidden.
Trying for reassuring, I wink at him.
He winks back. “While you were out there, I kept thinking of the night you were born. There was a gale blowing then, too, and the rain coming down hard enough it washed the roads out. Good thing your daddy and momma decided to have you at home. We wouldn’t have been able to get out anyway.” His face softens as he speaks and his lips turn up in a reminiscent smile.
“Having Grams deliver me was a good decision.” I grin and point over my shoulder to my blowhole.
“Neither of your parents knew how much of your momma’s DNA you carried and didn’t want to take any chances with anyone outside the family. But that’s ancient history. You best make that phone call.”
“Right.” Lifting myself from the chair, I trot to my room, groaning as my creaky legs complain. I scoop my cell phone off the dresser and hit speed dial.
“Hello.” Holly’s voice sounds strained.
“Holly, it’s Piper. I wanted to let you know, your brother is all right.”
“Thank God! Where is he?”
Before I can respond, she sings out, “Mom, Dad, he’s all right.”
“Sorry. Where is he, Piper?”
“Here.”
“At your place?”
“Yes.”
“How’d he get there? What happened?”
“I have no idea. He’s asleep so I haven’t been able to find anything out. The only thing I know is Gramps said he found him on the shore.” I cross my fingers with my free hand. I’m such a bad liar.
“On the shore?”
“Yeah, pretty wild huh?”
“I’ll say, but he’s all right?” I can feel anxiety thrumming through the phone.
“I think so, Holly. To be on the safe side, your parents might want to take him to emergency and have him checked out. Gramps says he’s going to be fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to confirm it.”
“I’ll pass the suggestion along. We’ll be right there. And, Piper?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. We owe you.”
“You don’t owe me a thing.” I end the connection before she can say anything more. Thanks of any sort embarrass me.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me how hungry I am. When I enter the kitchen, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee wraps around my senses like a lover’s embrace. Gramps stands at the stove stirring a pot. He’s been a busy bee.
“How do you think he is?” I pull out two plain mugs and pour a cup for each of us, so tired my hand shakes.
“He’ll be all right. He’s young and strong. Sleep will do wonders for him. Sit down and I’ll bring you some oatmeal.”
“Thanks.” My chair scrapes against the white oak floorboards as I pull it out and fall into it. I lift my cup then take a sip. Even the rich-flavored caffeine does no more than give me enough energy to eat the huge bowl of oatmeal Gramps thumps down in front of me, followed by a plateful of fluffy yellow eggs and light brown toast.
It’s a toss-up whether my rumbling stomach or my dragging fatigue will win out. My stomach wins by a hair. I inhale the eggs and toast, scrape the oatmeal bowl clean then stumble to my bed where I throw myself face down on the soft pink coverlet. I should check on Tyler is my last waking thought.
The screech of a gull wakes me. The room is lighter than when I fell into bed. Maybe the sun has come out. I tumble out of bed,