Free On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel) by Kim Law Page B

curve clung to the ocean for the last few seconds, she could feel her heart thudding. But the anticipation wasn’t solely for the start of a new day. It was for this moment, with this man. She had her friend beside her again.
    The two of them had watched many sunrises together in the past. From this very spot. Those mornings had been special, but she hadn’t realized how much so until now. It was nice having someone experience the beginning of the day with you. Nice knowing you weren’t alone.
    Whatever had brought Carter out this morning, she could feel his need to experience the beauty before them. Just as he could certainly feel hers.
    The fact that he would soon leave town as abruptly as he’d shown up tugged on the edges of her heart, bringing with it the urge to cling to this moment. To have her friend in her life—to have someone in her life—for more than the fifteen minutes of a sunrise.
    The sun released its hold on the water and glided smoothly into the morning sky, and she turned to Carter. “Do you want to see my house?”
    He didn’t look at her. “You have a house?”
    “I’m in the process of building it.”
    His jaw worked for several seconds while his gaze remained on the horizon, and when he spoke, the torment that came through in his tone was so pronounced that it transferred to her. “I just built one myself.”
    He turned to her then. There was much left unsaid in his words; she could tell. But she didn’t ask.
    “And, yes. I would love to see your house. We can take my car.”
    She gave him a comforting smile as they stood, and they began the trek up the hill. They moved beside each other—as if it were only yesterday that they’d taken this same path—and she soon bumped her shoulder into his. “I’m glad you’re home, Carter.”
    He nodded, but didn’t speak.
    It was enough. He’d missed their sunrises, too, she could tell. He didn’t have to voice it.
    When they reached the pull-off, she looked at him full on for the first time that morning. The sun streaked across the land now, and his face was no longer in shadow. And she would swear that he was different than when he’d first driven up.
    His eyes didn’t look quite so forlorn. His shoulders not so weighted down.
    A good sunrise had that kind of power over a person, she knew from years of experience. Sharing it with a friend only helped.
    She held out her hand. “I may be glad to see you, but not enough to let you drive. You look like you haven’t slept”—she nodded to his hand—“and you’re halfway through a beer.”
    He chuckled then, one small vibrato without benefit of a smile, and the sound almost stopped her heart. It was dry and hoarse, as if his vocal cords had tried out the action after months of lying dormant. The effect was that she instinctively wanted to help. She wanted to give him a reason to smile. To laugh. Only, she had no idea what he needed. She didn’t know what he’d been through.
    He handed his keys over without question, and she rounded the hood. Before opening the door, she looked across the top of the car at him. He poured out his beer and snubbed out his cigarette on the gravel beneath his feet. Then he stood straight and faced her.
    The two of them stared across the expanse, the black sedan sitting between them, each taking the other in. After a few seconds, Ginger spoke. “Are you okay?”
    He didn’t ask what she meant. His mental state? His personal well-being?
    Would whatever he was going through suck him under, or would he be able to pull through?
    “I’m better at this moment than I’ve been in four months,” he finally replied.
    The breath she’d been holding released, and as she slid into the car, the clench around her heart eased. It might not be a lot, but his answer had just gone a long way in making up for the very crappy ending to her night.

    Carter lowered the passenger’s window as they headed down the road. It was Sunday morning, and it felt as if the two of