She pulls the sliding door shut and turns away.
Chapter 23
REUNION
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #94, TOGETHER
I’m crying so hard
I can’t speak.
Mom gets Dad on the phone.
We all three cry
together.
The call lasts
minutes?
hours?
forever?
I hang up and don’t
know if I even told
them anything.
“I’m sorry.”
I got that out.
“I love you.”
We all said that.
“Whenever you want to come
home, Leesie-girl, is fine with us.”
That was Dad.
How does he know
I’m not finished here
when I don’t even know
myself?
“Give Michael our love”—
is all I remember from Mom.
And Dad’s, “Tell him
we’ll be proud
to call him son,”
made my heart burst.
I sop my face
with the last three
tissues on earth
and stare out at the stars
and moon shining hope
on the water.
My cell rings.
It’s Dad saying,
“By the way, Leesie”—
he’s that sweet, sheepish
farm boy my mom fell
in love with—
“Where are you?
We forgot to ask.”
Chapter 24
YOU
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10
Dive Buddy: Leesie
Date: 06/17
Dive #: --
Location: Grand Cayman
Dive Site: the balcony
Weather Condition: night but still hot
Water Condition: we can hear the waves breaking on the reef
Depth: enveloped both of us
Visibility: it’s dark but I can see farther than I have for a long time
Water Temp: perfect
Bottom Time: 67 minutes
Comments:
Everyone else is asleep when Leesie slides back open the balcony door. I’m awake in my cot. “Babe,” I whisper, get up, trip over Ethan. He curses me, rolls over, farts.
This could be Leesie’s last night here—last night with me. For all I know, her parents want her to get on a plane tomorrow and go home. I’ll quit, go with her. They’re okay here with Dani back. I hate to bail and leave them short-handed, but Leesie comes first. Maybe if I deliver her looking so much better like she does, it’ll get me on her parents’ good side. I did call her dad—and he was grateful—but I also stole their daughter. Do they understand why I did it? What did Leesie tell them?
And then there’s Mr. Branch President dude. Who knows what crazy stuff he’s got in store. Probably, same idea. An airline ticket home. Best I can imagine is an apartment I can rent for her. A marriage license? If he insists, I’m not going to debate it. Not any more. It’s out of my hands. It’s all up to her now.
I reach Leesie. She’s pretty much drenched in tears and other facial fluid. “You okay?”
She holds her hands out for me and starts crying again. I step into the warm night air on the balcony. “Hey, hey, hush now. I’m here.” I fold her up in my arms. “Are they making you come home?”
Her voice squeaks through her tears. “Dad says I can stay here as long as we need to.”
I close my eyes, don’t want to say this. “I can take you home tomorrow. Just say the word.”
A shudder moves through her body. “Let’s talk to President Bodden first.”
“Does your dad have a shot gun? What about his razor knife? Is he buying new blades?”
She shakes her head—trying to remember. “He said something sweet about calling you, ‘son.’”
“He always does that.”
“He meant it different this time.”
I rest my lips on her soft, furry head. “What does that mean?”
She bites her trembling lip. “I think it means you can’t get rid of me no matter what.”
“Even if I’m not a Mormon?”
“My dad’s got a lot of faith.” She sniffs and loses it again.
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. So far—it’s all good. “Were they angry?” I sit on the chaise lounge and pull her down beside me.
She shakes her head and squeaks into my shoulder. “We were all devastated together.”
I stroke her head. “You’ve been holding it in.”
“It’s coming out now.” She wipes her hand down her face. “All over you.”
I squeeze her. “Any time, babe.”
“24/7?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“No way we’re even.”
I kiss her nose. “Don’t worry. I’ll collect.”
“Michael!” She slugs my arm.
I love every note of her protest. I kiss her to make sure. All her old barriers are back up. “Freak.” I rub my face against hers. “You’re back. You’re really back.”
She manages to add a trembling smile to her tears.
“Will you tell me something?” I’ve been patient—haven’t questioned her story about the accident.
“Anything.” She kisses me. Her lips are hot and salty.
I swallow my suspicions. It’s nothing really. Her story makes sense. Mostly. She’s like a fresh born butterfly with wet wings. I don’t want to crush them while she’s getting ready to fly.
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #95, REDEMPTION?
Hesitation clutches my stomach
before I enter President Bodden’s office.
Does lost Leesie lurk in the corner
where Grandma and Phil’s heaven sent
light left her licking her wounds
and planning a counter offensive
to retake my soul at dawn’s first light?
Michael guides me through the door—
my buffer, my strength, my hero.
The room feels sweet, inviting, holy.
I whisper a prayer of thanks as I sit.
The Spirit washes over me in healing
waves. Slowly, slowly. It whispers. Go slowly.
Michael reports my phone call home.
He knows unstoppable tears will
pour from me again if I try to speak of it.
I stood in the shower for a half hour
last night before I stopped sobbing
enough to sleep.
President Bodden leans forward,
hands clasped, eyes concerned.
“Are you leaving us then, Sister Hunt?”
Is he disappointed?
“My dad said”—I swallow and sniff,
blink watery eyes—“I can stay if I need to.”
President Bodden smiles. “The Lord works in
mysterious ways.”
Michael doesn’t understand. “I can take her home whenever she wants to go.
She’s known that from the start.”
“I appreciate that.” President Bodden’s voice
calms the water. “I have an opportunity
for Sister Hunt to consider.”
I sit up straight and try to focus.
“Like a place to stay?”
“Like a job?” Michael’s voice
President Bodden’s mouth splits into a welcome
grin. “Let’s call it a service project.”
Michael frowns back at him.
“That’s what she called me.”
“A sister in the branch—
we all call her Aunty Jaz—”
Michael’s eyebrows shoot
up.
“Aunty Jaz is a Mormon?”
“You’ve had her fish?” President Bodden closes
his eyes to savor a succulent memory.
Michael does the same.
Inhales a phantom scent.
“It’s the best.”
The story unfolds—
Hot oil. Burned foot. Blisters.
Bad infection. Diabetic. Not healing.
Released from the hospital but needs
help round the clock. Sisters
have taken turns all week.
Her daughter in the states
just had twins. Her son on
Cayman is court-ordered
to keep his distance.
Fish shack closed. No money
coming in now for weeks.
“We’re looking after her utilities
and food, but hiring a companion
is beyond what we can do.”
I sit up tall, straight, feel the Lord’s
hand redeeming my life.
“I can do it. I can. I took care
of my grandmother.”
President Bodden holds his hands up,
slow down, girl, slow down.
“You’ll have to cook and clean.
She does have a nurse
stop in to dress the wound
and bathe her.”
“Yes, yes, yes, please let me try.”
I’ve wallowed in guilt day after day
week after week, months now.
I can serve, Lord. I can.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
“Are you sure, Leese?”
Michael’s hand rests on my knee.
I nod. So sure.
His eyes turn to President Bodden.
“What about the son?
Will she be safe?”
“Aunty Jaz hasn’t heard
from him in two years.”
How sad. Poor Aunty.
If not for Michael—that could be me.
Estranged forever. But now I’m released.
“You should pray about it, Sister Hunt.”
I make a strange sound halfway
between a laugh and a sob.
“I already did. I’m ready now.
But, first, President, will
you give me a blessing?”
I need Michael to see this,
to feel this,
to know the power
President Bodden blinks his eyes
to ease the water that fills them.
“I’d be honored.”
MICHAEL’S DIVE LOG – VOLUME 10
Dive Buddy: Leesie
Date: 06/18
Dive #: --
Location: Grand Cayman
Dive Site: Mormon Chapel
Weather Condition: intermittent showers
Water Condition: calm for now
Depth: no longer flood stage
Visibility: remarkably clear
Water Temp: 80
Bottom Time: another half hour
Comments:
Leesie wants one of those blessings things like her dad and Jaron did back in the hospital before I take her to Aunty Jaz’s. All the sudden she’s moving in with a sick old lady. Aunty Jaz’s fish shack was my dad’s favorite place to eat on the island. A dump from the outside, but the best fish—spicy and moist. It’s sad she had to close the place. The woman’s a perfect stranger to Leesie. But the way her and President Bodden talk about Aunty Jaz, she’s close as a real aunty. Sister this and Brother that. I got used to that when I was in Provo before Christmas last year, but it still sounds weird. Especially, Brother Walden. That sounds the weirdest of all.
I don’t mind slowing down. Making sure Leesie thinks this through. If this blessing deal gives her a chance to do that, cool.
President Bodden invites a second dude to join us. This guy is short, sunburned, mostly bald with a buzzed blonde fringe. President Bodden wears a dark suit, white shirt and tie, but this guy’s got on tan Dockers and sandals with his obligatory white shirt and tie. He smiles at Leesie, runs his hand over his head. “I like your do.” He speaks with a British accent.
“This is Brother Clark.” Pres. Bodden’s eyes rest on my face. “He’ll assist.”
Brother Clark has a silver cylinder on his key chain like Jaron did. I feel totally useless. If he was here, he could do this for Leese—instead of these strangers—“brothers” or not.
Brother Clark opens the cylinder. “This is olive oil, like they had at the time of Christ, that has been consecrated”—he notices the puzzled frown creasing my forehead—“blessed for the healing of the sick.”
“She isn’t sick.”
The two men stand on either side of Leesie’s chair. President Bodden grasps the back of it. “Physically, she is well. But spiritually … ”
Leesie whispers, “I’ve got a long way to go.” She closes her eyes.
“Can I stay?”
“Please do, Brother Walden.”
Brother Clark puts a drop of oil on Leesie’s head. He and President Bodden place their hands on her head, too. Brother Clark says a few rapid words I don’t catch, their hands lift off Leesie’s head a beat and then rest down again.
“Leesie Marie Hunt.” President Bodden’s rich Caymanian accent fills the room. “By the power of the Holy Melchizedek priesthood which we hold, we place our hands on your head and give you a blessing… . ”
The rest is intimate, personal, holy. I don’t feel right writing it down. I couldn’t if I tried. He blessed her with health, strength, and the power to conquer temptation. Does that mean me or just sinning with me? I get a strong impression that it doesn’t mean me.
He says stuff about the accident and Phil. Her family loving her. God loving her.
And then he says, “You’ve found the love of a valiant son of God. Cherish that love. Build upon it. Eternal happiness can be yours.” My first thought is he’s talking about Jaron. Dump this jerk and get home to your destiny. Then a powerful force hits me in the heart, and I know that it’s me. President Bodden is calling me that. A son of God. Valiant. Me?
I don’t recall anything else in the blessing after that.
Leesie can be eternally happy with me? I didn’t think that was possible. I thought I was against all the rules—even if we got married.
I can’t marry you if you’re not a Mormon. How many times has that echoed in my mind since I proposed the first time, and she threw my ring back at me? That’s not fair. She cried. It hurt her as much as it hurt me.
What’s changed now?
What’s so different?
That power speaking to my heart whispers—
You.
Chapter 25
JAZZED
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
POEM #96, AUNTY
Michael drives me to a world
I didn’t know existed on Cayman.
Narrow roads, no sidewalks.
Cinder block walls, corrugated
metal roofs, wire fences.
Fat chickens and skinny dogs.
Laundry outside drying on lines
strung from trees, baking
in the hot Cayman sun.
No manicured resort lawns
and tropical gardens. No beach,
no sand, no ocean.
Jungle-like growth encroaching
each habitation, green upon green
punctuated by scarlet bougainvillea
in rampant profusion climbing
telephone poles, fence gates,
houses and engine-less cars
rusting in the front yards.
Dusty black children play
in dirt yards.