Page 79 of Parentmoon

When the house becomes their honeymoon.

The thought hits me hard. Michael and Keli will marry, and Dallas and I will leave on Friday. That’s how things should be, but still, I’m momentarily sad.

“What’s that look, darlin’?” Dallas freezes in his rushing, staring at me as I stand beside the couch.

“Nothing,” I lie, giving him a smile that doesn’t feel real.

He tilts his head, but I shake mine, dismissing an answer. Phase One. Wedding Day. Focus. The rest is for later, after we depart.

“Then get moving. Bathing suit. Change of clothes. Go, go, go!”

A giggle escapes from his drill sergeant demands. “Okay.” Racing to the staircase, I thump up them to change into a bathing suit and toss some things into a beach bag.

When I come back downstairs, Dallas is waiting for me.

“Behave,” he calls out to Michael and Keli before taking my hand and tugging me out the sliding glass door.

Within minutes, we’re heading down the dock where a boat awaits us.

“What is this?” Nervous excitement fills my throat.

“We’re going snorkeling.”

I freeze while he jumps into the boat. “Dallas, I’m not the best swimmer.”

“Hol Chan Marine Park is a protected area. You’ll be fine. Plus, I’ll be there with you.”

Somehow, this isn’t reassuring. “Will there be sharks?” Second to lizards, or perhaps first, is my fear of sharks. The ocean is beautiful to look at. It’s also a habitat for creatures I’d rather not encounter.

Dallas holds out his hand. “Jo, take my hand.”

Shakily, I cup mine in his and he guides me into the vessel. Once inside, he slips his hand free to join our pinkies.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Not today. Not ever.” With his eyes on me, the intensity of his words registers stronger than a promise made by hooking fingers.

A woman could dream of this kind of vow, but I don’t dare wish for more than him keeping me from being lunchmeat for sharks.

“Okay,” I whisper, tightening my pinky around his.

“That’s my girl.” He lifts our linked fingers so he can kiss my palm. Then he’s nodding at the captain to drive us away from the dock while I’m foolishly giddy once more.

Dallas called me his.

+ + +

Snorkeling is thrilling while freaking scary. Dallas helps me out of the tour boat and works with me to set my mask in place. I try not to panic as I adjust to breathing through the snorkel, and not my nose which takes coordination when you need to think about every breath you take. The ocean waves move me about which makes me anxious, but Dallas doesn’t leave my side.

He’s a saint in patience, which I wouldn’t have expected even after nearly a week with him.

We don’t hold hands, but he sticks close to my side as we swim, pointing to various coral and stunning fish. Eventually, we near shark rays, a highlight of the reserve. Dallas holds onto me as they swim around us, not fazed by the presence of humans. I’m more frightened of them, like the iguana on the porch. Or a lizard on the bathroom tile.

I don’t want to be afraid, but some fears are beyond control.

Falling in love ranks high on the list.

Dallas moves us away from the rays, leading us over more coral, pointing out iridescent fish in bright yellows and fluorescent purple. Eventually, a sea turtle comes into view, and I’m mesmerized.

When Michael was a child, he didn’t love stuffed animals, like a cuddly teddy bear or a snuggly puppy. He loved turtles. Hard-shelled and slow-moving, there was something about these creatures that spoke to him. His spirit animal. I’d like to think it meant Michael was wise, a trait often associated with sea turtles, but I’ll never know. Even Michael can’t explain it.