Topic: With the Coming of the Tide.

Serena Gardiner

Date: 2009-02-01 17:32 EST
The dull winter sun was breaking just over the ocean's horizon. It lacked the intense summer colors that could throw the morning sky into a fiery pitch. Instead, this sunrise was softer with muted grays and purples where brilliant oranges and reds should have been. Serena dragged her knees tighter to her chest for warmth in her spot among the sparse reedy grass on a rolling sand dune. It was a cold morning -- bitterly cold to be more exact. The wind sliced right through her heavy down coat biting at her muscles which ached from the long hours of sitting in place. Yet, she could not be moved. She had to allow the swell of the Ocean's song overtake her.

The music was always there just beneath the noise of the breakers. It called to her. It begged her to return to It. She had for an hour or two overnight but even mermaid magic couldn't warm the water surrounding her enough to make the temperature comfortable. If she couldn't be at home in Its depths, she'd sit here and listen to It. The music was nearly impossible to describe and she rarely ever tried to explain It those who could not hear It. It swelled with such joyous freedom as if all the organisms within its depths were coming together as one to praise Its beauty and the wonders It held.

Serena couldn't say the exact moment in her life that she heard the music. Certainly, she had been young. Perhaps it had been shortly after her parents had passed. Although she could not remember the first time she had heard the music, the vivid memory of the first time her grandmother had caught her staring off wistfully at the ocean with her head tilted listening to the ancient song would always remain burned into her mind. She'd been scolded quite vehemently for allowing herself to sink into the music and her grandmother's expression had been one of such abject and uncharacteristic horror that Serena had been too afraid to even ask her about the music.

Over the years that passed, there were times (months on end even) when she could hear the music if she and Sam were living in a town close enough to the sea. Sam didn't seem able to hear it and refused to answer any of her questions about it. Serena's own research on the topic came up short. However, she really never had the patience to learn her way around the Dewey Decimal system well enough to investigate such a specific topic.

The hypnotic music began the same summer she had found her greatest joy -- surfing. First the noise was so far off and faint that she would stare out over the horizon as the sun disappeared beneath the watery surface wondering if what she heard was merely a figment of her imagination. However, as the weeks and months progressed, there was no denying it. The sound would swell with the waves and swing with the tide. It seemed to beg her to dive into a breaking wave, feel the power of the ocean rush over her head, and allow the tide to drag her into its grip.

And then one day, she just had done just that and allowed the tide to take her.

"Serena!"

She turned to glance over her shoulder at the approaching man whose gaze was riveted on her in disbelief. Without even uttering a word of greeting, he dropped down beside her and pulled off his knit cap to give his shaggy blonde locks an absent shake or two."What're you doing in town? I thought you were surfing the winter circuit. You shouldn't be here and you know it."

Serena's frame tightened slightly at his version of a welcome. Her brown eyes turned back on the Ocean unable to meet that hard, almost angry look. "I had to come back, Boomer. I have a friend who needs me. It's just for a couple months." There was no way to keep the hurt from her tone. So many months in mermaid form had made her unused to the ebbs and flows of human emotion. It surprised her deeply just how quickly they could sneak up on her.

With a heavy exhale he tossed an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his side and rubbing her far arm. "Look, Serena. You know I'm glad to see you but you know you shouldn't be here. You're too easy to track in human form, especially if you're going to stay in one city for a couple months. They're going to find you and when they do--"

A quick shake of her head cut him off. "You don't have to remind me of the consequences. I'm fully aware of them. I can't let go of my human side so I cannot let go of the people I love. Sam's spell protecting my heart is just too strong."

"Sam's spell is selfish! She thinks that she can protect you from them but she cannot!" His ruddy face was meant for sunshine and smiles so when colored with anger and twisted in horror it looked quite ridiculous. The mermaid in her wanted to laugh at the very sight of it. The human in her wanted to cry.

Instead of doing either, she just pleaded. "Sam needs me, Boomer. I'm half of her. She can't let me go and I can't ask her to." They needed her, right? Alain needed her. Sam needed her. Cor needed her. Perhaps they didn't anymore. Perhaps they were okay without her. Was it she that needed them? Was it really her refusing to let go of her old life? There were far more questions than answers.

His arm dropped from around her and, like a petulant child, he shoved himself up out of the sand, glaring down at her. "Then the Fishermen will find you, Serena. They will find you and slice you up to take what they want of you. There will be nothing that all my research or all Sam's magic can do about it. What good will you be to anybody when you're shark food and potion ingredients?"

"Then maybe that's what's best." The words that she was hoping would be drowned out by the incessant crashing of waves seemed hideously loud when spoken.

As Boomer's brows flew upward, disappearing beneath his shaggy locks, he dropped back a step in shock. His hard gaze inspected Serena from above for a long moment. She felt so small beneath it. No longer was she a fiercely free member of an ancient and mystical culture but now just a scared little girl. "You can't possibly be serious," he breathlessly whispered at last.

Serena pursed her wind chapped lips and lifted her shoulders into a shrug. "I'm tired of being torn. I'm tired of being able to love but not being able to be with the people I love. I'm tired of fighting the draw from the Ocean."

"If Sam lifted the spell this would all go away," Boomer said gently. "You would not love us anymore. You'd be free to be completely mermaid. You wouldn't care about RhyDin or the people here."

"I wouldn't care?" Serena asked with a bitter laugh. "What would the point of living be if I could not love?"

Too frustrated to argue any longer, Boomer gave an irritated shake of his head and turned his gaze out over the Ocean. "Come see me when you're done moping," he huffed angrily before turning on his heels to head back towards the boardwalk.

His fiery air was swept away with him, leaving a hollow, emotionless pit. A deep, mind numbing sadness came sweeping in to fill it like the tide reclaiming a sand castle. The bitter water overcame all her hard packed walls of sand fortified by little pieces of driftwood and plunged its icy hand right into the depths of the beautiful tower.

The Ocean would always reclaim what It deemed It's property.

http://i237.photobucket.com/albums/ff82/bethanyrbin/Serena%20SL/21.jpg

((Litchfield Beach, SC. October, 2008.))

Serena Gardiner

Date: 2009-05-24 13:27 EST
The previous Sunday evening had found Serena with her master -- the Ocean.

Perhaps "master" isn't an all encompassing enough word. It was her deity. It was the fabric which held her together. The salty, churning water flowed through her veins and flesh-ripping coral encompassed what was left of her human heart. She was one with it and in her moments of calculating cruelty it spoke through her. The other side of the ocean -- the nurturing, life-giving aspects -- she had not embraced. It lay beneath the surface untapped and unexplored. Only the playful or deadly properties bubbled to the surface of her personality.

That night she had stared out over the darkening horizon and listened to the music that played just beneath the sound of the breaking waves for many hours. It called her to return to it as it always did when life on land became too complicated for the sea nymph. She took a step towards the surf and the next dying wave that came rushing up the shore swirled around her ankles and the hem of her long skirt.

"You offer me the truth of you, and I am bereft of the ability to do the same." Jolyon's words haunted her and drowned out the music. A con artist can be so easily conned. Over confidence was their weakness, her weakness. Had she been conned? There was something she was missing. There was a reason he could not be trusted. Her jaw set squarely in self-directed anger at the thought. She should have seen it from the start. Yet, she still could not figure out the answer.

But as soon as his voice was pushed from her head, another replaced it. "Serena." Cor spoke just that. He spoke only her name. That was all it took to make her blood boil in angry passion and her hormones rage in delight. When she was around him the human in her yearned for the comfort of someone that knew her so well and the mermaid in her demanded his destruction. A woman well trained at spotting the weaknesses of others, she knew that destruction could be had if she were capable of maintaining such a heartless act.

The thought drove her deeper towards the breakers. This time she did not stop. One foot fall after the other until she was waist deep in the water with the skirt swirling about her. Then she accepted the call and pushed off, diving in underneath the incoming wave and only coming up for air when she was past the breakers. Paddling in place, her dark eyes slid back to shore once more. She had not told her sister that she was leaving. She had not told her roommates nor her sponsor. There was the fact that she was supposed to take lunch to Tucker the next afternoon. Within minutes her waterlogged skirt was gone and her legs were joined in a powerful tail, sprouting with dull green scales due the water temperature.

The final light had failed, leaving only darkness and a line of lights from the houses along the shore which seemed ever so distant. Turning her back on the light, she pushed forward, allowing her strokes to take her farther and farther away from the land. She left only a single set of footprints in the wet sand that disappeared into the surf and would be swept clean with the incoming tide.

http://i237.photobucket.com/albums/ff82/bethanyrbin/Serena%20SL/19.jpg

Serena Gardiner

Date: 2009-06-21 10:03 EST
((The following occurred Friday night.))

Victor Thompson sat behind his desk at the Kauffman Sports Management Group with his elbows planted firmly upon it and his hands templed before him. The client, Serena Stevenson, who sat anxiously opposite him had once been a fine addition to his extreme sports side of the business. The woman had been an rising star on the pro circuit when he had first met her. The vivacious brunette with an ever present sunny smile had been the perfect client. She charmed her sponsors, seemed to enjoy speaking to fans (and, although he had no idea if it was an act, only the semblance of enjoyment was actually necessary), and gained a reputation for an uncanny ability to become one with a wave.

The woman before him was no longer the prized find he had met.

He cleared his throat and dropped his hands. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to deliver the bad news, Serena, but Sunnyside Custom Boards is dropping you."

Her drawn features tightened at the news. She was pale and skittish. The carefully toned muscles were gone. Eaten away by her body once her meager supply of fat had been burned for energy. Her body had turned in on itself and it was a disgusting thing to witness. "That can't be true. We can fix this. We'll go see Mr. Franklin and we'll get this fixed."

No more, Jeff Franklin, the public relations director for Sunnyside Custom Boards had said. No more. Victor reached up to rub at the back of his neck. It had not been a pleasant conversation. "No. There's no fixing it this time. They want you out of the house by the end of the weekend."

"I have been with them for years. How could they do this?" There was a heavy dose of fear in her voice. A fear that took Victor by surprise.

"How could they do this? Are you serious?" He shook his head in frustration. How many times had they had conversations about this? How many times had he explained her responsibilities? What had happen over the past six months to turn her into this? "I think it's amazing that they have been as patient with you as they have. You disappear for weeks at a time. You just got arrested on charges of fraud. You ducked out of the winter tour halfway through it and you haven't committed to this coming winter tour."

Serena leaned back in the leather chair once more, shaking her head slowly. "Fine, fine. We'll find another."

The small clock on his desk ticked and tocked away the silent seconds as Victor drew in his frustration. Only quiet firm words would make her accept this reality. Her career was over. "No, we won't. The word is out about you. They say you're unreliable and now there's rumors over some sort of substance abuse problem. This is it, Serena."

The burst of rage that followed from the woman was all the more surprising based on what he knew of her. Competitors often said had no temper. She had had not the diva reputation of many of his female athletes. Sure, it could have all been an act but it was certainly a carefully constructed act. An act that came tumbling down upon her as the wave of uncontrollable emotion sent her to her feet without a conscious instruction to her legs. The small clock on his desk was snatched up and vehemently thrown against the office window. It landed with a crack, splintering the glass into a spider web pattern.

Before Serena stormed from his office, a bony, angry finger was jutted out at Victor along with an enraged, "Go fuck yourself!"

Serena Gardiner

Date: 2009-07-01 00:09 EST
Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?

Serena could not say how fast she traveled when zipping through the depths of the sea as a mermaid. Time meant little to a being promised eternal youth. Distance meant nothing when one's soul mission in life was to explore. It seemed as if no time at all passed until the rocky shoreline gave way to a dappled coastline. An intercoastal waterway zigged and zagged between chunks of land that created barrier islands of rugged terrain and looming sand dunes, protecting the stilted houses and farm land behind.

As the water temperature warmed and the dull fish gave way to those of a more tropical nature, the scales sprouting from her powerful tail changed from a subdued brown hue to luminous silvery greens and blues. Still, she pressed onward. She ignored the giant sea turtles who, while slow and practically immobile on land, were graceful and confident within the ocean's depths and refused to acknowledge the presence of dolphins who twittered at her in their teasing, playful tones, always up for a game of chase.

There was no time. She had to get back before she was missed.

I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb'd I would sing and say,
"Who is it loves me? who loves not me?"

When she finally bobbed up in the salt marsh of her destination, her features crinkled at the stench of decomposition as the fauna degenerated into a nitrogen rich mud. It would have been preferable to arrive any time other than low tide as only at low tide was the scent so overpowering. As a walking, talking tide chart, she should have planned better. It took another reminder that she must keep moving to close her eyes and call her legs.

Only a couple strokes were needed to draw her to a depth in which she could stand. Of course, that drew a second problem. The floor of the marsh was coated in a thick, muddy layer of sharp, jagged oyster shells which ripped at the skin of her feet. She gritted her teeth at the pain as her naked form emerged from the water. In another blink, her body was clothed. It did not matter as to the style. The one she was visiting knew nothing of such things.

I would comb my hair til my ringlets would fall
Low adown, low adown,
From under my starry sea-bud crown
Low adown, low adown,
And I should look like a fountain of gold

The door to the shack (and calling it a shack was a overstatement of its architectural soundness) swung open as if the resident of the abode had been expecting a guest to emerge from the sea all day. The sea witch's features were so drawn as to almost lose all sense of human-like expression. Her beady eyes and sharp nose resembled more the birds that inhabited the area rather than a middle age woman. Smooth cordgrass whipped at Serena's legs as she moved out of the mire and to what little dry land could be found in the marsh. The sea witch stepped out of the way so that Serena could pass through her doorway and into her working space, caring not for the mud that the young woman tracked in with her.

"Mermaid in my house," the woman stated, rubbing her palms together with glee. "I shall have picked your bones clean by sunrise. So many fabulous potions your organs shall make!"

Serena's dark eyes spun around the small one-room building. A dirty mattress of weaved cordgrass and several flea-bitten blankets marked the sleeping area. A couple unwashed pots and dishes made up her kitchen. Rickety, uneven shelves towered above them full of the tools of her trade -- herbs hanging to dry, bottles of small creatures, pickled eyes, jars of chicken intestines, and boxes of rare finds. A crab scuttled across Serena's foot, reminding her not to linger.

"You know the rules, witch. You can only have what I freely give. I want to be human again. I shall give you my hair."

Springing alone
With a shrill inner sound,
Over the throne
In the midst of the hall

The sea witch wasted no time in reaching for a muddy knife, thankful for her good luck. Mermaid hair was a rare commodity indeed. A fine price such lovely locks would get her! She cared little why this particular flighty sea nymph would want to give up a life of youth and beauty. "You know the consequences, don't you, precious creature?" She purred, pulling over the room's sole chair.

Serena eased onto the shaky wooden chair with her jaw set in a hard line. Her body tensed as she felt the woman's fingers slid through her dark wet hair to separate the tangled locks. Her decision had been made. She could no longer maintain both lives and she could not give up those she loved. There would be no turning back now. "You can only save me from the sea for a year. After that year, the sea shall destroy me for turning my back on it."

"Unless you find another master for your soul -- a husband," the witch murmured as she lovingly stroked the hair, taking her time to enjoy the slaughter. "A marriage rightfully entered upon and rightfully performed is so sacred that even the ocean may not call you back to it."

Til that great sea-snake under the sea
From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps
Would slowly trail himself sevenfold
Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate
With his large calm eyes for love of me.

"It sounds like a bad fairy tale." Her own voice struck her as bitter and distant as the witch's knife raggedly began to slice through the gathered hair, yanking mercilessly at her scalp. The witch cared even less for the style of the hair that would be left.

"All fairy tales have bits of truth. That particular one got more wrong than right as most do," she muttered beneath her breath as she dropped the knife onto a table and gathered the hair up carefully to be deposited into one of her empty jars. The witch pressed her puckered sunburned lips against the outside of the jar and set it upon a shelf and then reached up on the balls of her feet for a small corked bottle.

The bottle was pushed into Serena's hand as she rose from the chair. The crude hair cut left varying lengths of dark brown hair hanging around her chin. The witch grinned cruelly as she opened the door to usher the mermaid back out. Even should the mermaid wish it, the witch had no interest in small talk. "Mix this with several drops of sea water and then drink it all."

Serena turned on her heels to face the witch, her brows lifting curiously. "Will it hurt?"

The question was only answered with a sharp bark of laughter and the slam of the shack's door.

And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.

http://i237.photobucket.com/albums/ff82/bethanyrbin/Serena%20SL/13.jpg

((Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. Photo of salt marsh at Huntington State Park, South Carolina 2008))

Serena Gardiner

Date: 2009-07-05 23:32 EST
Serena dropped heavily onto a bale of hay beneath the soft glow of a gas lantern hanging from the planks. Her heavy brown eyes drifted over the interior of Tucker's barn. The solid wood planks that lined the walls, the hay chute, the practical shelves full of tools -- it was a living resume of Tucker's carpenter skills. The deeply rooted summer hum of cicadas and crickets and the barn's four sound walls nearly drowned out the last minute instructions that Sam was giving Tucker just outside.

"...gave her a drought containing Snakeroot.... should act as a sedative."

Sam's voice sounded tight. Even though their link had come to an abrupt halt when Serena had given in to the call of the ocean, Serena knew her sister well enough to know the emotion that Sam was hiding behind that informative tone. Sam was hoping, praying, begging that this would work, that Serena would be fully human and fully her twin once again. For Serena to see the error of her ways had been Sam's hope all along.

"She mentioned something about magic," Tucker stated in a low, somber tone. That was her Tucker. Always so somber, so serious. His voice rumbled with that low gravely tone that so many big men had. To some, it was threatening. To her, it was just as comforting as the rumbling of a distant thunderstorm in the heat of the summer.

Serena could almost hear Sam heave an exhale. Her sigh would be heavy for as long as a night as Tucker and Serena were about to face, Sam's would be nearly as long. For fear of hurting her, Serena had demanded that she stay away but Tucker could only control her physical side. Sam's voice was louder, more confident when it came again. "I bound her mermaid powers so there's no fear of her boiling you. Once she makes the transition over to witch, she will be less dangerous. Serena never had many offensive powers. I will be able to control it from afar through our link which will be restored when she's human."

So much conjecture! So brash! If Serena was not feeling the effects of the bitter Snakeroot-infused tea she would have been proud of how well Sam had sold that. Perhaps Sam's bravado lay in that she wanted to believe. She wanted to be confident that they were in control, that she knew exactly how the sea witch's potion would work. While Sam could believe in her carefully worked theories and all the tests in the world, Serena believed in Tucker.

She was safe here with the mountain of man. No matter how violent she would become through this night, Tucker would keep her from hurting anyone, even herself.

Partings were exchanged outside as Serena's eyes drifted shut for a moment and when she reopened them, he was towering before her. In her haze between sleep and wake, he did not frighten her as he would most. Instead, his comforting presence drew a drowsy smile. "Tuck," she whispered while straightening herself up from her lean.

He only watched as she drew the sea-witch's potion from the pocket of her jacket along with a dropper of sea water. When the drops of salt water were added to the pale green liquid, they floated like oil in water, unwilling to mix with the solution. Eventually, the potion overcame them, drawing the drops into their depths and forcing them to change their very foundation. Her gaze was fixated on the liquid.

Jolyon would have found the symbolism fascinating. Jolyon. Just the thought of him sent an ache through her limbs for his reassuring presence through the night. She had refused to allow him to be at her side and, despite his assertions that he understood her reasoning for requesting that he stay away, Serena was not sure that he had. This could not be for him. This had to be for her.

There was a heavy weight on his shoulders as Tucker crouched down before her, resting a large, calloused hand on her arm. "You are sure about this, Serena?"

Of course, she was not sure. Tucker would not be either if he knew of the catch. Serena entertained the possibility that he would outright refuse if he knew that if she was not married within a year of drinking the potion, the ocean would destroy her. Her tongue felt thick and unwilling to respond both from fear as well as from the sedative properties in the Snakeroot. "I have no other choice."

He gave a single nod to signal that he was ready and before she had any more time to consider the ramifications of this decision, she lifted the bottle and drowned the liquid in two swallows. Before the bottle slipped from her fingers, a gut-wrenching cry of pain built up in the deepest part of her. The sweet noise of the crickets and cicada's were finally washed out by terrorized sobs. And, thus began the longest night of her life.

Serena Gardiner

Date: 2009-07-07 01:09 EST
No matter how cold and lonely the night, morning's warmth always follows. By the time the first purple haze began peeking over the horizon, all the fight had drained out of Serena but she was still wrapped up in the fetal position, cursing Tucker in barely coherent mumbles, begging for mercy, pleading for him to end her suffering in one swift and final blow. She cried herself into a restless, feverish sleep as the sun began pushing through the scattered clouds, casting the sky in an orange glow. And when the sun crept its daily path towards its midday height, her misery had eased and numb exhaustion filled her. But underneath pulsed a new found poise. It was the confidence of a survivor, the grit one gains in facing the agony of the past and weathering it to see a new dawn.

Tucker finally allowed her to step outside when her tears had dried, leaving salty streaks down her cheek, and settled her upon his porch steps to wait Jolyon's arrival. At first he had insisted on remaining with her but she had promised that she would not move a muscle without Jolyon's assistance. They were the promises of a new woman, a woman intent on finally making her word mean something. She was sure, however, that he was keeping a watchful eye from within the house on his charge.

She couldn't bear gratitude this morning. There would be time for that later and Tucker knew how she felt about him. More than being racked with the painful memories of the previous night, she could not stand to hear them rehashed to Jolyon when he arrived. She was sure the men would trade notes later. They had clearly figured out some time ago that by combining the bits and pieces of information that Serena gave each of them they very well may be able to figure out the truth. She couldn't fault them for that. She could never fault either of them for anything.

Sam's exhaustion rested in the back of Serena's mind but instead of nagging at her already weary bones, Serena felt connected. The empathic link that had joined the young women since sharing a womb twenty-three years before had been reestablished. Fierce sisterly love bridged the distance between Tucker's farm and Sam's flat. Sam's emotions played in the back of her mind, a song she could not be rid of and no longer wished to be.

The steady echoing beat of shod hooves announced Jolyon's arrival before she could spot the horse and curricle. Her first vow as a new woman was forgotten as she shoved herself to her unsteady feet. Had Jolyon not been so quick to the ground, Tucker probably would have been out with a stern word for her broken promise. Like a toddler knowing that security was only several wobbly steps away, she stepped away from the porch, keeping her gaze locked on his questioning blue eyes.

Bypassing the arm he held out for her to take for strength, she tossed her arms around his neck for a tight, desperate squeeze and murmured beneath her breath, more to herself than to him. "It's over. It's all over."

Serena Gardiner

Date: 2010-01-22 09:23 EST
Come home, my lovely wayward girl.

Not since that steamy summer night in Tucker's barn when Serena had turned her back on the ocean by taking the sea witch's potion had the sea's ancient voice called so clearly to her. Now it rang like a bell in her head, reverberating through every nerve ending, coursing into every muscle, and sliding down every bone. She realized suddenly how much she had missed its seductive call. The voice's beauty took her breath away.

She shuffled even closer to the cliff's edge to frown down in the inky darkness at the frosty tips of the ocean as it crashed against the rocks down below, lining the toes of her boots up with the rocky ledge. Her walk from Rumors Mill had brought her here. She had no idea how much time had passed between the moment she had walked out on Jolyon and now. Clearly quite some hours because the morning glow of the rising sun was just beginning to illuminate the eastern horizon. Yet, she had turned her back on it as well to look west over the great ocean. Only here had Jolyon's words begun to fade and the voice of the ocean filled her head instead.

You knew that men were fickle beasts. They destroy women like you. Come back and join your ocean-dwelling sisters.

No, men weren't fickle beasts. Trust was a fickle beast. How much of her adult life had been spent working to gain people's trust? Her career had been based on worming her way into their lives, gaining their confidence, and then betraying that confidence for money or prized possessions or information or sometimes just for the thrill of the game. Maybe this was just karma sweeping back around with its just and merciless hand to swing a mighty blow on behalf of all those she had done wrong.

The roar of the ocean filled her ears as it raged against the jagged rocks below for the hurt that had been leveled upon its daughter. Trust. She had trusted Jolyon. She had trusted him more completely than she had ever allowed herself to trust anyone. He had held her while she had spilled her concerns over Tucker's behavior and he had said nothing. More disturbing to her, she had been unable to pick up on the fact that he had known the truth. Serena had been completely clueless that he had been keeping the danger to her best friend a secret. It was a massive blow to the con artist's pride.

You were in love with both of them and they both betrayed you. Leave them to the mess they created and come home.

"In love with both of them? No, no. Only Jolyon. Only Jolyon." Her renouncement of the ocean's charge was lost upon the whipping winds and the crashing waves.

Rich laughter came in response. Denial seemed to be one of humanity's favorite occupations. They put so much time and energy into it. And what of the mountain of a man?

Tucker. How could he have not trusted her with this? They had been through so much together and now he was choosing to shut her out of his life. How could he have gone to Jolyon and asked him to keep such a secret from her? On some level, he had to realize what such a secret would do to them. Yet, her anger towards him was coupled with a deep underlying fear. She had burned his bridge to Jolyon which had been his greatest chance at help. "I love him. And I hate him," she whispered back.

"Don't jump!"

It took a moment to realize that she had actually heard the pair of words. They seemed so surreal. Her brown eyes found the speaker another heartbeat later. A fisherman, with a pole and tackle box in one hand and holding down his hat against the whipping wind with the other, was approaching rapidly. It was then she realized what she must look like with her boots lined up at the edge of the cliff, hair tossed from the wind, and tear-stained cheeks. She tried to reassure the man she had no intention of ending her life but her voice refused to work.

He slowed ten yards away and released his hat to hold his palm up to her innocently. "Look, I won't come any closer. Just step away from the ledge. Everything will be okay."

Just come home. Everything will be okay, the ocean twisted the fisherman's words into a seductive mantra. Just come home. Everything will be okay. Just come home. Home. Home. Home.

Her lips twisted into a wry smile for the fisherman before she turned her dark eyes out over the ocean. In one fluid movement and without the slightest hesitation, she drew her arms back and then launched herself forward. As she dove through air, her arms reached forward and her chin tucked in against her chest, closing her eyes tightly so that she didn't have to see the rapidly approaching water or rocks.

"No!" The fisherman shouted and dropped his tackle box to reach out for her but his fingers passed through air. The punishing wind which he had been certain would throw her body back into the cliff eased suddenly and the morning stood perfectly still.

He watched long past the point her body disappeared in the sea below to see if she would resurface. Yet, she did not. He remained there staring into the icy waters below until the wind started whipping and the sea started churning again. With a sad shake of his head at the follies of youth, he said a silent prayer for the young soul now claimed by the ocean.