Chapter 34 - first half from Leesie

We've got 53K words behind us. Just two to three thousand more to go. I don't want to finish. This journey, especially this final volume with all of you here, has been an amazing experience for me. I could revise forever and ever, but I know you want the finished book in your hands, and I need to move on with other projects. I would really love to write all my books like this! But I don't know if a publisher would go for that.

I will continue posting as I revise, so you can experience that process, and I want to have a complete polished draft available here, so if anyone can't purchase the ebook or paperback version, they can read the whole thing with all the little niceties, like chapter titles, poem titles, and filled out dive log headings, right here.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. This isn't the final chapter. But it's close.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK

POEM #??, The Brac

A tiny plane,

a bumpy landing,

a crescent shaped skiff

of sand with nothing but

bat-filled caves, half-dozen

dives operations, one dirt road

that stretches from end to end,

diving my first wreck,

MV Capt. Keith Tibbits,

a Russian relic renamed

for us tourists,

snuggling on the beach

with Michael while he,

Gabriel and Alex toss pros and cons,

ups and downs, hows and how nots

into the inky sky dotted with pinpricks           

morphs overnight into

rain, winds, warnings,

boats called in, airport shut down,

hotel evacuation to the island’s

built-in shelter—deep caves

that won’t wash away in the onslaught

that’s only hours away.

The bats lining the ceiling don’t seem

to mind sharing their subterranean palace

with fifty human bodies wrapped in hotel

blankets and foil-lined emergency heat sheets

that crinkle when we move

and make me sweat.

I huddle with Michael in the mass

and sip bottled water.

“Are you scared?” He shakes

his arm that’s gone to sleep

holding me.

“No. You’re here.” I try to imagine

the last hurricane he faced. “Are you?”

He smiles at me. “Terrified.”

“Did you hear this one’s name?”

“Cecilia.” His eyebrows draw

close together.

I touch his face. “Will she

haunt us like your Isadore?”

He wraps his arms back around me.

“We’re safe here. Don’t worry.”

I cuddle in close and hand him my water.

The sound of the wind shifts to a new key.

“Here it comes.”

I brace myself for storm surge waves,

sheets of rain, vicious winds

to swamp our dry hide-out,

peel back the roots and dirt

and smash the coral skeleton

that encases us in it’s embrace.

Nothing happens.

The sound mounts, echoes, screams,

but we are safe—barely even soggy.

Crampled, tired, trapped,

but safe.  Michael prods

me to my feet and stretches.

We wander with refugees, careful

not to step on sleepers, meet up

with Gabriel and Alex, who’ve

decided not to spend his trust fund here.

“Did you hear if it’s hitting the big island?”

I’m worried about Jaz and Junior.

Alex shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

We hang out with them, laughing

and talking like this is just another night

after a long day diving.

Hours roll by. A lady from the resort

comes by with a big basket of cereal bars.

Michael turns his nose up, but takes a handful

“Guess we won’t starve.” He offers them to us.

When the wind dies, I’m not sure if it’s day or night.

Michael and Gabriel venture to the cave’s mouth,

return to report. “Definitely the eye, mi cielo.”

Gabriel’s arm circles Alex. “You should

sleep in the stillness.” They slip away.

Michael and I find a quiet place to whisper.

I doze and wake to find him studying my face—

troubled. About our future together?

The giant stride he’ll take next week

into a brand new world with a soft woosh

of water in a baptismal font in Spokane?

Waiting a whole year to get married?

I kiss his cheek.”You know,

we can get married any weekend

if waiting gets too hard.”

He tries to wipe the trouble

off his face. “I’m not worried

about that. Are you?”

My face heats up, and he kisses me,

sucks ever so gently on the corner

of my lower lip. I let him think

he’s distracted me, enjoy the kiss,

initiate another, then take his face

in my hands and try to fathom his eyes

in the waning glow of two electric lanterns

that struggle to light the cave.

“What does worry you then?”

“Nothing, babe.”

“Don’t lie to me. I see it.

Is it Isadore?”

“No, Leese.” He closes his eyes.

“It’s you,” he whispers.

He bows his head

so our foreheads touch.

“There’s something I need to know.”

I touch my lips to his.

“You are my life—my forever.

You know everything—my best, my worst.”

His eyes open, and I can’t breathe

while I wait for him to speak.

“You have one secret, babe. I

don’t want to get close to,

but I gotta know—

was it me?”