Page 2 of Red Waters

Visions of Crash’s smile whispered to my heart in a taunting manner because I would never see it again. The man in the photo took it from me. In the picture, the young man, already so unbelievably cold and calculated, was walking across a street in a foreign country. I could tell by the buildings and surroundings. There was a statue that burned into my memory. What appeared to be the body of a lion had a human head attached. The cement creation was wearing what I suspected to be an Egyptian headdress. “Is he in Egypt?”

Mr. Jones’ hand slammed down on the picture. “Whitney, this picture was taken by a private detective I hired. Ask me where this detective is now.”

I started to shake, unwilling to hear it. My anger refused to be derailed from its mission.

“He’s dead, Whitney. This picture was sent to me, we thought, undetected. Days later, the PI’s body was delivered to his wife.”

As fast as I could, I tried to grab the picture, but Mr. Jones was one step ahead, snatching it away. Pooled water in his eyes wavered. His jaw was locked tight, and anger radiated from his whole body. “My son is in love with you, little girl. Giving you this picture would mean killing,” he closed his eyes as rage eased from his body, “the girl he plans to marry.”

I gasped. M-Marriage? At the time, the thought felt idiotic to me. I believed myself to be only half human. I had no idea whose child I truly was, and I hadn’t been raised by happily married so-called parents. My one and only boyfriend was murdered merely weeks earlier. Marriage? Impossible. I felt my past made me unworthy of such devotion. I was so caught up in rage that I’d been blind to see that it was already mine.

Mr. Jones almost begged, “Don’t chase this evil. You won’t win. Nor will my son.”

Thinking Mr. Jones may have hidden feelings, I spit back, “It doesn’t bother you that Link is not yours? And that he’s born from… from rape?” Like me?

Link’s father’s legs half gave, forcing him to sit in the chair behind his desk. “What does DNA have to do with love?” He folded his hands in his lap as he looked up to me. “Marina would willingly experience those rapes again to have the son she adores with every fiber of her heart.” A tear finally dripped from sad, tired eyes. “Reether would relive any horrible event for you. I told him to let you go, that he’s going to have the best years of his life in college. He laughed at me.” His lips trembled as he slightly smiled. “Laughed, claiming he will never be with another. Yet, here he is, letting you go. A true sign of love—”

I slammed my hands over my ears. “Please stop.” My heart was screaming for me to heed this truth, but my alter ego demanded I ignore common sense.

Mr. Jones leaned his head back against the headrest. “Okay. I’ll stop. Just tell me you are hearing me.”

“I hear you.” I let my hands fall, slowly. “I do. I just think your son is wrong.”

“I used to agree. By God, he’s so young! How could he possibly already know his forever?” He exhaled wisdom. “But not anymore. You are the one for him. So, I’m begging. Don’t do this, Whitney. Please.”

I wiped at tears I didn’t know I was crying until they dripped from my chin.

“Please. If not for yourself, give up this revenge for Reether. He’s still punishing himself for his brother, for Constance—” Mr. Jones covered his mouth as if sharing the blame, as if wanting to stop himself from saying too much.

The agony I was witnessing made me want to spare him more guilt. This man raised and cherished my best friend. Him trying to divert my insanity was even more proof. I was grateful for such dedication. A forced empty chuckle escaped me. “I guess I could go to Hawaii instead.”

He half-smiled as if not convinced I was speaking the truth. Which I wasn’t. “Hawaii is a beautiful place to get your thoughts in order.”

Avoiding his silent judgment, I quietly admitted, “I could use a little self TLC.”

The worn man sighed. “Couldn’t we all. Couldn’t we all.”

I so wish I could say I went home to pack my bags full of bikinis for a Hawaii vacation, but enough lies had been told. I ran through my empty home, up the stairs and into my bedroom, opened my laptop, and scouted the web for the lion with the Egyptian head. I finally found it in St. Petersburg, Russia.

My hands shook as I purchased the ticket, changing my life forever.

After giving my suitcase to the car service driver taking me to the airport, Link reached his strong football hands into his pocket. Towering over my petite self, he pulled out a silver chain with a charm. It was his water symbol, the one he had carved into my boat dock years ago. The same one Crash traced with his finger to let me know where Yury was keeping him by force.

“I’m always with you, Whit.”

Crying from deep in my soul, I was too choked up to speak because…

One: the part of me who treasured our friendship wanted me to scream about my intended madness so he would stop me.

Two: the part of me who adored Crash warned me to stay true to my plan.

So, I said nothing.

A soft smirk crossed his full tan lips. “Will you wear this for me?”

Already missing the young man in front of me, I turned from Link and lifted my long, unruly red hair so he could attach the gift I already treasured.

When I turned back around, he asked, “Why won’t you look at me, baby?”