A Time for Us - By Amy Knupp Page 0,87

said, sounding scandalized but smiling. “You are not...”

“I am.” She lifted her T-shirt over her head and threw it in the sand next to her shorts then stood there in her bra and underwear. “We used to do this all the time. Well,” she amended, “Noelle did. She dragged me out late at night after you’d gone to sleep—”

“She did what?”

“I made her swear to always take me with her, even though I never got in,” Rachel continued. “The thought of her swimming at night all alone...” It still made her shudder.

“So you’d come out here and do what?” her mom asked.

“I sat with a book and a flashlight. She did this.” Rachel ran toward the water and splashed in. The drama of the crashing waves flowed through her, enlivened her. It was scary and invigorating at once. “Get out here, Mom!” she yelled, unsure whether her mother could hear her over the roar of the waves.

Rachel went deeper, diving into a wave and coming out drenched on the other side. Splashing as she regained her footing. Laughing.

“This is crazy!” her mom said, suddenly six feet away and soaked, as well.

“You wanted to honor your younger daughter!” Rachel said, scooping the water with both arms and flinging it toward the sky.

Her mom looked thoughtful for a few seconds, and then she nodded once emphatically and flung herself into the next wave as it overtook them.

The two women played in the waves until they were exhausted, laughing and carrying on as if they had no worries in the world. Something strange came over Rachel, an exhilaration she couldn’t describe or explain. She suspected there were tears involved—she couldn’t tell for sure with so much salt water from the gulf pouring down her face—but they didn’t feel so devastatingly sad the way they had for the past two weeks.

Anyone watching them would’ve thought they’d either lost their minds or were a couple of twelve-year-olds having the time of their lives. Without conferring, they slowly made their way toward shore in their underwear and bras. The air temperature was lower than the water temp, and Rachel shivered, rubbing her hands over her upper arms. Once they were fully on land, fat raindrops began to fall, though it took them a few seconds to realize it. They looked at each other and laughed.

“Good thing we’re already soaked,” her mom said.

“Here.” Rachel threw the top towel to her and wrapped the second one around her own shoulders. Spreading the third one out on the sand, she flopped down onto it.

Her mom followed suit. “Noelle would watch the storm come in, too.”

“Yes, she would.”

Lightning zigzagged down to the horizon way out over the gulf. It took several seconds, but the crash of thunder finally reached their ears. The hairs on the back of Rachel’s neck stood on end as she watched the show. Her mom sat next to her, pulling the large towel up over her head and grasping it tightly at her neck. “This is crazy.”

“Exactly.”

They’d managed to capture the spontaneous, life-loving spirit of Noelle. To live it themselves for a few amazing, carefree minutes. If Noelle were here, she would’ve loved every second of it. Rachel refused to let in any wish that she would have opened up and done this when her sister was still alive.

As the rain let up just as suddenly as it’d started, Rachel realized this was the first time she’d thought about her sister without being dragged under by sadness and tears. “We absolutely have to do this again sometime.”

Her mom nodded thoughtfully. “I like that idea.”

Being able to think about Noelle like this, focusing on the wildly alive version of her instead of as a distant, painful memory, emboldened Rachel. An idea occurred to her and she tried to push it away, but it persisted as they sat there with the roar of the waves and the wind enveloping them. “Do you think...?” she began, then stalled.

“Do I think what?”

Rachel pursed her lips before speaking, giving herself every opportunity to not say what was on her mind. “A while back, Mariah Jackson suggested I say a few words about Noelle at the benefit concert....”

Her mom’s hand snaked out from under the towel and clasped Rachel’s.

“I said no initially—repeatedly, actually—but I think I’m going to do it after all,” Rachel said. “I’m not sure what I’ll say yet. Just a few lines. A minute or two, no more. It’s a rock concert, after all.”

“I love the idea, Rachel. We’ll