Chapter 29 - continued--finally!

I crawled out of bed long enough to get this posted. I'm a pathetic baby when I'm sick, but today my cough was under control so I could write. Thanks for your patience. I'm sorry to make you wait for this so long. My next post will be Thursday.

This is the rest of Chapter 29. Chapter 30 will start with a Dive Log from Michael.

Thanks for hanging in there with me!

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

POEM # ??,

My kayak paddle digs

deep into the turquoise water.

I pull the blade through,

raise it, dig deep again

in rhythm with Michael

paddling behind me.

He’d burst into Jaz’s shack earlier,

bundled me and Aunty Jaz into his car

and sped to the big hospital near

my clinic. “Hurry, we’re late.”

Is the only clue he divulges.

By the time I manage

to get Jaz on her feet

he’s back with a wheelchair

and a beautiful nurse

with a clipboard and thick,

long, long back hair.

I’m frozen by that hair.

But Aunty Jaz pipes up,

“Dear boy, you’re mistaken

I don’t have an appointment.”

Michael ignores her, eases

her into the wheelchair

and races away.

I lock my hands behind

my back so I don’t touch

the inch and a half long

growth that covers my head

or pull a handful of the nurse’s

beautiful hair off her

innocent, unsuspecting head.

I follow through double doors,

down halls, around a corner,

notice a “Dive Medicine Clinic” sign,

worry that Michael’s bent again,

realize that makes no sense at all.

“Wait here.” He motions me to a

waiting area as he pushes Jaz

through more glass doors and

around a corner.

I sit on a yellow waiting room couch,

wait and wait until—there he is!

I barge through the glass doors.

“They are prepping her for the chamber.”

He’s totally lost me.

“Aunty Jaz isn’t bent.”

He grins big and takes my hands.

“Oxygen therapy. Great for wounds that won’t heal.”

I frown, worried. “She can’t afford this.”

He shrugs. “But I can.”

We’ve got two hours to ourselves.

He’s taken the whole day off.

So here we are paddling

out to his favorite free diving spot.

He stows his paddle to signal

our arrival. I tuck my paddle

alongside his. Instead of bailing

over the side, he opens his arms wide.

“Come here, babe.”

I maneuver into them,

snuggle my face

into his neck,

while his arms wrap me up tight.

He kisses his favorite spot

on my mangy skull and whispers,

“I think something answered.”

I bolt up—almost tip the kayak.

“You prayed!” My lips attack

in jubilation before he can answer.

He holds me off.

“Not fancy words like you—

I just asked.”

I have to kiss him one more time.

“That’s all you have to do.”

I sit back, so he can explain.

“I didn’t hear a voice

or anything or see stuff

in my head like you do,

but I had this feeling—”

He pauses, can’t speak for a moment.

He swallows and grips my hand.

“I, um, I—wasn’t alone.”

I hug him and cry.

His lips rest on my forehead,

and his arms squeeze me.

“Do you know what that means,

Leesie?” He gazes off into the distance.

“We’re not alone.”

Before I can answer, he props me

up, and holds me by the arms,

gives me a shake. “I woke up this

morning with this idea for

Aunty Jaz burgeoning in my brain.”

I smile, and try to say something,

but he gets there first.

“It grew and grew until

I picked up the phone and called

the chamber.”

My eyes fill up with joyful tears

to consecrate the moment.

He wipes them away.

“I love the way this feels.”

I touch his cheek. “Me, too.”

He takes my hand and

kisses my palm.

“Do you think this can happen

again or is it a one shot deal?”

I gather both of his hands in mine,

kneel on the kayak floor in front of him,

gaze forever into his eyes.

“Whenever you’re willing

to pay the price—it’s there.

You’ve felt it before.”

He nods. “What do you we now?”

I swallow and wipe my nose

with the back of my hand.

“We can call the missionaries.”

His forehead creases concern.

“I love reading with you.

Can we keep doing that?”

That makes me start crying again.

He holds me close—our lips meet,

but it’s more like our hearts

mesh than our mouths.

I rest my ear against his chest

try to hear if he beats a fresh rhythm

to match mine. My soul soars

with hope—the fuzzy outlines of

forever with Michael become

a detailed sketch, glowing and radiant.

“Did I tell you I love you today?”

He rolls over the kayak’s side

into the water, deftly bringing

me with him. “Not enough.”