Page 100 of The Spirit of Love
“That I can tell you my story. That maybe you’ll still be here when I finish.”
I turn to face him, trying to read the apprehension in his dark eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you.” Jude exhales. “So far so good.”
“It’s raining,” I say, turning up my palms to feel the first drops. “It wasn’t supposed to rain.”
“Or maybe it was.” Jude shivers. We’re both just wearing T-shirts. It was hot, the sky bright blue, ten minutes ago on the yacht. Now thunder rumbles in the distance.
I look around, wondering if we’ll need to duck somewhere for shelter, and as I do, my eyes fall on the embers of a recent fire, which the light rain is causing to smoke.
“Is that…” I start to say, spotting the container of honey and the bottle of wine I’d seen in Jude’s hands at the market.
“Yes,” he says. “Tania and I came here earlier.”
“Oh?”
“Right after we ran into you. We built that fire.”
I swallow, gathering the courage to be an adult about this. “You and Tania are…”
Jude must see the unspoken end of my question in my eyes, because he starts laughing heartily. He shakes his head. “No. No! There’snothinggoing on romantically between Tania and me. I hired her for this weekend. And this is where it’s going to start to sound strange.”
“That’s okay!” I’m so relieved that he’s not herewithTania, that the wine and honey aren’t remnants of some al fresco fun-bag fiesta. Jude can tell me anything right now and I’ll go with it.
“I met Tania at this workshop led by Captain Dan,” he says. “Not exactly my kind of thing generally, but Jake invited me after I was on his show, and I can’t help liking that guy.”
“He has that effect on the planet.”
“Anyway, I met Tania while I was there. She was about to get her certification in something called—”
“Soul integration midwifery?” I say. “Olivia’s mom mentioned it.”
Jude laughs. “Yeah, I didn’t foresee myself being in this demographic, but here we are.”
He looks at the sky, at the soft but steady rain.
“Okay,” he says. “Here goes. Do you remember what I told you about my accident?”
“Twenty-eight fractured bones, six weeks in the ICU? That’s not the kind of thing I’m going to forget. Did your doctors consider writing in toGuinness World Records? It’s probably you and Evel Knievel.”
I’m joking because what else am I supposed to be doing? Staring down at those four letters in the ravine? Listening toJude, who looks like Sam, tell me this? Knowing in the pit of my stomach that everything that’s been making absolutely no sense for weeks might be suddenly converging?
“It happened here,” Jude says and nods toward the ravine.
“Here?” I say, like I don’t already know.
Jude puts out his hand again, and this time I understand. He’s feeling the past. He’s feeling the trauma his conscious mind can’t remember. The rain pricks my skin, which feels hot enough to sizzle.
“When?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Ten years ago,” he says, and looks at me. “When I was working here as a Search and Rescue specialist for the Island Conservatory.”
I nod, not because I understand how or why any of this is possible, but because I knew. Even though it doesn’t make sense.
“Do you remember in the cactus garden at the Huntington,” I say, “when I made that joke about wanting to be a Search and Rescue specialist on Catalina?”
“I was so confused by that,” he says. “You were mocking me, but I didn’t know how you knew—”
