Between the Land and the Sea - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,100

turned out the lights. He settled down next to me on top of the covers. “Sleep,” he said, throwing his arm across me, “I won’t let you go.” I focused on the sound of his breathing and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

The sun streaming through the window woke me up, and I rolled over to see Ethan’s sleeping face. His arm was still draped across me, and I studied him for a few minutes, my heart swelling with gratitude. I reached up to gently trace the scar on his temple. It had healed nicely and hair was starting to grow in and cover it. His eyes opened and crinkled at me.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

“When did you get the stitches out?” I asked.

“Last Saturday,” he said, thinking, and added, “I have a confession.”

“What?”

He looked a little sheepish, “That day, I was working in the yard and I saw... I looked in your window. You were sleeping with the desk against the door. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I thought you were afraid of someone coming in.”

“That worked for a while,” I said.

He exhaled loudly, as if he’d been holding his breath. “Thank God I was here to stop you.

Do you remember the dream?”

I thought about the ring of mermaids. If he didn’t like hearing about two, he was really going to hate this.

“I was surrounded by them. Dozens of them. I was fighting to get away.”

“You sure were,” he leaned over and kissed my forehead, “keep fighting.”

“I wonder why... I mean, how can I find out...” I had to know what they had planned for me.

“Marina, you need to talk to your father. You need to ask him about it.”

“Yeah, I know. My mom has always been a sore spot with him.” He nodded, “I know how that goes.”

We were both quiet for a minute. I looked over at him with a little smile, “I have a confession too.”

He smiled back, “What’s that?”

I pressed my lips together, remembering, “I kissed you first... when you were out cold in the hospital.”

He smiled at me incredulously, “I thought that was a dream.” He reached over and stroked my cheek, tracing the outlines of my lips with his thumb, “Just my luck, not to wake up.” There was a sharp rap on the door and Cruz’s voice called out, “Marina, mom made breakfast for us – come out before she leaves for the studio.” I got the message and jumped out of bed, landing on my feet with a small whimper. I pulled my socks up over my bandages and walked as nonchalantly as possible to the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Abby beamed as she stood at the stove, “You look like you got some sleep.”

“Thanks, I did,” I smiled back. Cruz caught my eye and raised his eyebrows at me. I ignored him. “Did you have a good time last night?” I asked her.

“I had a blast,” she said, “The boats are so beautiful at night...” she added dreamily. I poured myself some coffee, but declined the tofu scramble. When Abby left for work I headed back to my room. Ethan was stretched out on my bed, his arms behind his head. The cat had climbed onto his chest and was nudging his chin.

“The coast is clear. She’s off to work,” I said.

“I’m jealous of this cat,” he said.

I sat down and petted Charlie, laughing as his little toes curled up with delight, “He’s spoiled, huh?”

“I’ll say,” he sat up, putting the cat aside and scooting over to kiss my ear, “He gets to stay with you every night.”

I looked down, embarrassed, “I’m sorry about last night.”

“I’m not! Thank God I was here to stop you.”

I embraced him, “Thank you.”

He squeezed me and started kissing on my neck, making me giggle and writhe away. I stood up and backed away with a grin.

“Come and get your coffee and tofu,” I teased, as I made for the door. He yawned, and I realized that I had kept him up most of the night.

I paused, “Do you need some more sleep?” I asked.

“No,” he said, stretching. “I got some rest, after you tried to go through me.” He followed me out to the kitchen where Cruz was having his cereal. I poured him some coffee and he started to tell Cruz about my latest sleepwalking attempt. I excused myself to go get dressed.

I logged onto my computer and found a message from my dad about winning the prize. He wrote that he was loathe to leave