Parched (The Parched Series Book 1) by Andrew C. Branham

Author:Andrew C. Branham [C. Branham, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ant Press
Published: 2016-04-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

He never thought in his wildest dreams he would see a lake. He never dreamed he’d get to jump into one. Nor see a pond—nor a river or stream or even a creek. His father had told him stories throughout his youth about such miraculous places. The elder man had grown up surrounded by water. He had fished and swum and sailed and canoed and waded until his skin turned all white and prune-like. He had told his son about the time his parents had taken him to one of the largest water parks in the world.

Now, finally, here he was, years later, lapping up the crystalline waves, laying on the sand, soaking up the sun beneath an azure blue sky.

“Another virgin piña colada, sir?” He turned, startled, to find a black-skinned tall thin man, dressed in a white shirt, black vest, and royal blue Bermuda shorts, standing by his side. Si’s personal lifesaver, he had made it his duty to anticipate his customer’s every desire—even before he desired it. Si turned toward his muscular friend lying, with rippled abs and chiseled chin, on the sand next to him, smiled, and held up two fingers.

“Very good, sir. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Si couldn’t wait. He had other fish to fry, other things to experience. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he told his friend. “Keep my drink cool.” His friend looked up, concerned, as Si wandered off toward the pool. Slipping silently into the waist-deep water, he felt his feet against the polished glass bottom, felt the cares of his life slip away, felt everything anyone could ever hope to feel.

He lay back, stretching his arms out and pumping his feet rhythmically to the cadence of a mariachi band playing in the distance. Giant magnolia blossoms, white and pink and red, floated by like a tiny armada of pleasures. Rolling over, he ducked his head beneath the water and kicked off hard, propelling himself along the bottom. Alone. In paradise.

He popped back up at the far end of the pool, just shy of a huge rock formation off which snaked a placid trickle of water, joined halfway down by two others so that, by the time the stream hit the pool, it was a roaring waterfall.

He stood up, worked his way to the edge of the pool, and looked out over the turquoise surface of the nearby sea. Sails of all sizes and shapes glided effortlessly across the surface. Wakes from motorboats pulling water-skiers cut sharp diagonals in the sea.

He selected a rubber tube from a rack at the pool’s edge and slipped atop it, his feet dangling freely over the side. As the current picked up speed, the water splashing over him stung his face. Rolling across the manmade eddies, he spun around in a circle, letting out a playful yelp. Looking up, he saw his family sitting in lounge chairs—waving, laughing, his mother hoisting a pink fruity cocktail in mock toast to Si’s accomplishments.

“Hey, you guys. Come on in.

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