The Lost (Sarah Beth Durst) by Sarah Beth Durst

Author:Sarah Beth Durst
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-05-27T05:00:00+00:00

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

That’s much more like what Peter would say. And even though I know he’s teasing me, my breath hitches in my throat. His eyes, when they lock on mine, are dark and serious.

Tearing my gaze from his, I peek again through the cab of the engine. I can’t see Victoria and Sean. They must still be on the ground. “Claire, come down from there.” If they’re, um, celebrating their engagement, I’d rather she didn’t see. I can talk knives with her, but I’m not volunteering to have that conversation with her. I also carefully don’t look at Peter again, at his intense eyes or softness of his black hair or the strength of his arms and bare tattooed chest. I wonder what it would have felt like if he’d welcomed me back from the void the way Victoria had greeted Sean, and it takes every bit of self-restraint not to look at his lips. “Let’s give them privacy.” I lead her around the house, and Peter follows.

Up ahead, I hear a noise. An unexpected, familiar, beautiful, crazy noise. Like waves, crashing on the shore. Speeding up, I round the corner of the house...and see the ocean.

A quarter mile away, waves lap at the desert. The dust storm swallows the ocean beyond, but the waves crash and crash and crash again on the sage brush and mesquites.

Peter stands next to me. I’m conscious of the warmth of his body near mine, and I think I will always know when he’s nearby. “Yours?”

“I don’t think I lost an ocean.” Except maybe I did, in a way. I had been thinking about the ocean while I was in the void. It can’t be a coincidence.

I’m walking toward it. Shortly, I’m kicking off my shoes and walking over the desert sand. It doesn’t feel the same as beach sand under my feet. It’s drier and hotter, but my eyes are glued on the beautiful, blue-and-white, wild, sparkling-in-the-sun waves. I’m aware of Peter behind me, watching me with his dark, beautiful eyes.

I inhale the smell of sea. It smells right. Salt water permeates my senses, filling my lungs so that I feel as if it’s leeching into my blood. The crash of the waves drowns out all other sound.

I wade in. The cool salty water wraps around my ankles and then withdraws. It hits again with enough force that I wobble. I put my arms out for balance. The horizon is shrouded in dust. But there’s ocean enough.

I wade deeper. Water pulls on my clothes, dragging them down around me, a weight. Soon, I’m up to my knees, my hips, and then I stretch my arms in front of me and glide forward. I feel the water curl around me.

I twist onto my back and look up at the sky.

It’s empty and blue, and for the barest instant, I feel as though I’m home.

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