Candle on the Water Read online

  Candle on the Water

  By M.A. Myers

  ©2022 M.A. Myers

  ISBN (book) 9781948327886

  ISBN (epub) 9781948327893

  This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Desert Palm Press

  1961 Main St, Suite 220

  Watsonville, CA 95076

  Editor: L.Talbott Editorial Services

  Cover Design: Michelle Brodeur

  Blurb

  High school senior Stephanie Turner is about to be the state swimming champion until a last minute bout with the flu ruins her chances. Despondent after her crushing loss, her world is instantly brightened by a pair of sparkling brown eyes belonging to one Sara Austin. Their bond forms in an instant, but their love must remain a secret in their conservative Midwestern community.

  Sara's self-sabotage, fueled by her jealous friend Jenny, causes them to go their separate ways. As the two women struggle to survive in their own worlds, entering into loveless marriages to fit in and denying their own truth and personal desires, the timelessness of their love endures. Soon, Stephanie will find that the love she shares with Sara reaches across the centuries, and destiny will prevail over human prejudice.

  Target warning: Candle on the Water contains incidents of domestic violence and abuse.

  Acknowledgement

  I would like to acknowledge the following people: Krista Hill of L.Talbott Editorial Services; my mom, Martha Myers; my family, and to all the people who have come into my life, making this story possible

  Dedication

  To Missy

  Prologue

  SARA LOOKED OUT OVER the Pacific as it cast its spell of wonder. To her right, the Heceta lighthouse stood alone, perched high on the cliff, standing guard over the ocean. With the westward wind blowing in her face, she could taste the salt on her lips as she breathed, each breath longer and deeper than the one before. The lonely cry of the killdeer pierced the roar of the surf. Soon, the sun would set and Heceta’s guiding light would reach out across the water, as it had done for over a century.

  Two hundred feet below the observation deck, the waves crashed relentlessly against the rocky shore. Sea birds scoured for food along the beach as brown pelicans hovered on the wind, waiting for the next school of fish to surface. When the wind would change direction, ever so slightly, Sara could hear the murmur of the other voices of those who stood on the north end of the deck. She had wandered to the south end to be alone with her thoughts: I get it now. I know why she loved this place.

  She heard someone call her name and she turned around. Coming down the steps was a tall, tan, middle-aged man in his early fifties, with wavy brown hair and an athletic build. He was dressed in cargo pants and a quarter-zip sweatshirt. A fashionable stubble cast a shadow over his jawline and circles underscored his light blue eyes.

  Tyler.

  He planted his tennis shoe-clad feet cautiously as he descended the steps, taking care that he would not drop his sister, Stephanie, whom he carried lovingly in his arms. Sara smiled and fumbled with the rose in her hand as she walked toward them. She stopped short, letting them close the distance as she glanced down at the flower.

  “Hey, stranger!” she called out. “It’s been a while.”

  Chapter One

  High School

  “SO, STEPHANIE, I WAS talking to Steve today, and I think he likes you,” Tyler said, tearing off a piece of a warm yeast roll and popping it into his mouth. “He wants to ask you out, but he wanted me to see if you were interested first.”

  Stephanie took a drink of her lemon water and stared blankly at her brother before returning her gaze to the window. The February sun had slid behind the leafless trees across the restaurant parking lot, turning the Indiana sky into an orange backdrop streaked with reddish purple clouds. Soon it would be dark and cold. She hated this melancholy time of year. Other than spring, the only thing she looked forward to was swimming in the Indiana High School Athletics Association state finals: a meet that could define her high school swimming career.

  Tyler nudged her arm. “Hey! I’m talking to you.”

  Stephanie turned to him, feigning interest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was a real question. What were you asking?”

  Tyler sighed. “If Steve asked you out, would you go?”

  Tired from swim practice, Stephanie leaned back in her chair and yawned. She smiled curtly at her brother.

  “Yeah, I don’t think it would be any of your business, but I’m thinking no.” She looked around the busy restaurant. Everyone was in a carefree mood, talking and laughing between sips of sodas and bites of meatloaf. Stephanie’s stomach was in knots over the looming swim meet, and Tyler’s pestering wasn’t easing her mind.

  Tyler leaned in. “What’s the matter with you?” he whispered. “Don’t you like boys?” Despite her brother’s bored look, Stephanie knew he was serious. He continued to press her. “Do you like anybody?”

  Stephanie rubbed her forehead. She focused on the stack of empty beer mugs in front of her father, John Turner, a stout police officer with thick, wavy brown hair and blue eyes.

  Her father gulped the last swallow from the bottom of a mug as a middle-aged matron in brown polyester sat a fresh one in front of him. It was only Tuesday—he generally saved his binge drinking for the weekend, when he was working in the yard or around the house.

  Tyler, not to be ignored, nudged Stephanie’s arm again.

  “What?” she asked impatiently.

  Tyler leaned back in his chair. “I just want to know what team you are playing for, that’s all.”

  Stephanie scowled at her brother with mounting irritation. “Again, probably not your business. I have a lot going on. I don’t have time for anyone.” She forced a smile as she tried to regain her composure. She hated it when her brother got to her, and it was only worse if he knew it.

  Stephanie did know “what team,” though. She had known for several years. She liked being around the boys in the neighborhood, competing with them in sports, but the idea of kissing one of them never crossed her mind. She had successfully occupied her mind with swimming so she didn’t have to think about being different, but that had changed her freshman year, on another cold February night, in the back of a school bus. She and Michelle Alexander, another swimmer, were traveling home to Columbia City after a swim meet.

  Her mother’s words brought her out of her reverie. “Stephanie, we are so proud of you and what you have accomplished this year.”

  Elizabeth Turner was a fair-skinned, strawberry blonde with kind blue eyes and a nurturing voice.

  “Thanks, Mom. I don’t think I would be where I am if you and Dad hadn’t supported me —even you, Tyler.” She elbowed her brother.

  “You can thank me publicly on Saturday after you win,” Tyler replied. “And I’m bringing Steve on Saturday—you can thank me for that, too.”

  “Why would you do that? I don’t want to go out with him, Tyler. Can you just drop it?” She lowered her voice. “What is your problem?” she asked between clenched teeth.

  “I don’t get it, Stephanie. He’s a good-looking guy and—”

  “Then you go out with him, Tyl
er. I’m not interested.”

  He leaned in once more. “Are you a dyke?”

  “Shut up, Tyler!”

  “That’s enough, you two!” her mother said, glaring from across the table. “Stephanie, you know how I feel about using that phrase, and Tyler, we don’t use those hateful names in this family. Ever.”

  “But Mom, all I was trying—”

  “But nothing, Tyler! I didn’t raise you to be hateful. Who Stephanie dates or doesn’t date is none of your business. She’s your sister, and you won’t talk to her like that.”

  “She talks to me like that and you don’t say anything to her,” Tyler replied defiantly, looking at his dad, who was looking on with bloodshot eyes and a flushed face.

  “I think you all need to stop,” he said firmly. “We didn’t bring you out tonight so you could act like asses. I don’t want to hear another damn word from either of you.”

  “John,” her mother said, putting her hand on his arm.

  “Forget it,” he growled, leaning back in his chair and downing the foamy remnants in his mug. “Let’s just go home.”

  Stephanie rolled her eyes at Tyler as she took a final bite of fried chicken. Another warm, wonderful dinner with the family!

  ***

  When Stephanie got home, she went upstairs to her room and found a mixtape that Michelle had given her that night on the bus. She put it in her cassette deck, hit play, and worked on her homework at her desk. She struggled to keep her mind on calculus, but her thoughts drifted to Michelle…

  “Can I sit here?” Michelle had asked as she plopped into the bus seat next to Stephanie. “You did great tonight, Steph, I mean really. You kicked ass.”

  “Thanks,” Stephanie replied, her face growing hot. Thank God it’s dark in here. “Congrats on your win, too.”

  Stephanie slouched and put her knees up on the seatback in front of her as she gazed out the window. They were both quiet as the bus pulled away, the tinny sound of music coming from Michelle’s headphones. Michelle took the blanket she was holding and put half of it on Stephanie’s lap.

  “I can feel you shaking,” she said, removing her headphones and offering them to Stephanie. “You want to listen?”

  “Sure,” Stephanie replied. “Who are you listening to?”

  “Just listen. I made it for you.”

  Stephanie smiled as she put on the headphones. Michelle slid down in the seat and propped her knees up next to Stephanie’s. She grabbed Stephanie’s hand underneath the blanket. Stephanie closed her eyes and listened to Lionel Ritchie and the Eurythmics. Michelle’s head was on her shoulder. The bus rolled down the highway in the darkness, passing fallow, frozen corn and soybean fields awaiting the spring thaw. Stephanie was disappointed when they reached their destination.

  “I can’t stand long bus rides, but…” Her voice trailed off.

  “But what?” Michelle asked, squeezing her hand gently.

  Stephanie looked down at the blanket. “I just, well, I just don’t want this to end.”

  “Stephanie, this is just the beginning,” Michelle said, turning toward her in the seat. “I really like you, and I think you really like me.”

  “I do like you. I like you a lot…but we can’t. I mean, what will people think?”

  “Stephanie, I don’t care what people think.” Michelle placed Stephanie’s hand over her heart. “And you shouldn’t, either. You’re a good person, and it’s okay to feel the way we do. I promise.”

  Stephanie could feel Michelle’s heart beating through her chest. “Okay.”

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “People will see!” Stephanie said, looking around the dark school bus. The driver was just pulling up behind the gym.

  “No, they won’t.” Michelle leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth. It wasn’t a long kiss—really more of a peck—but it sent Stephanie’s head spinning.

  When the interior lights of the bus came on, Michelle gathered her things and stood up. Stephanie slowly gathered her belongings. She looked up at Michelle.

  “I don’t really know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Stephanie. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Michelle turned and walked toward the front of the bus.

  Stephanie called out after her. “What about your tape?”

  “Keep it!” the girl said over her shoulder.

  Stephanie ran to catch up with Michelle as she made her way across the parking lot to her car, a red 1980 VW Beetle convertible with a black top. “I really did make that tape for you,” Michele repeated.

  Stephanie had stood there in the parking lot, watching Michelle’s taillights fade away in the darkness until the short blast of a car horn brought her out of her daze, and she headed for her mother’s sedan.

  Stephanie’s cassette player clicked off and she looked around her room. She put her pencil down, closed her book, and went over to her bed. She lay down and wept, thinking of Michelle and a phone call that never came.

  ***

  Two hours later, Stephanie was in the bathroom, slumped over the toilet, sicker than she had ever been in her life. She lay on the bathroom floor until early morning, when she managed to crawl back to her bed. At six o’clock her alarm clock went off. Her sheets were soaked with sweat and her body ached all over. What is wrong with me? She got up and headed toward the bathroom. Her head was splitting and her mouth was dry.

  “Maybe a shower will help,” she said under her breath. She groaned as she turned on the water.

  Stephanie let the hot water run down her body. She had to make swim practice…the meet was just two days away.

  Someone pounded on the door. “Come on, Stephanie! You aren’t the only one who has to get ready!” Tyler barked.

  Stephanie reached down and turned off the water. She dried off, wrapped the towel around her body, and opened the door. Tyler was leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

  “About time.” He started to brush past her, but stopped. “Hey, are you okay?”

  Stephanie went to her room and shut the door. She threw on some sweats and went downstairs, steadying herself with the handrail. Her mother was in the kitchen, making breakfast. She looked up from the iron skillet of sputtering eggs and sizzling bacon.

  “Oh, honey! You look awful. Are you feeling okay?”

  Stephanie plopped down at the table and mumbled. Her mother crossed the room in two steps.

  “Let me feel your head.”

  “No, Mom. I’m okay.” Stephanie lowered her forehead to the table.

  “No, you’re not. You’re pale as a ghost and you have dark circles under your eyes. Now, let me feel your forehead,” her mother insisted.

  Stephanie raised her head and her mother felt it with the back of her hand.

  “My God, Stephanie! You’re burning up!”

  Tyler bounced into the room and took a seat. “Good morning, everyone! Dang, sis. You look terrible.”

  Stephanie smirked. “Thanks, Ty.”

  Her brother reached for a piece of toast from a plate in the center of the table. “You going to school today? Steve will miss you if you don’t.”

  “Don’t start on me, Tyler. I am not in the mood.”

  “No, you aren’t going, Stephanie,” her mother said. “You have a fever, and I’m calling the doctor.”

  “Mom, I can’t miss. The meet is in two days and I have to be in school to practice.”

  “I don’t care,” her mother replied, waving her off. “Your health is more important.”

  Stephanie went into the living room and fell onto the sofa. She stared at the smoke-stained ceiling as she listened to her mother’s low voice on the phone. The steady, low hum from the humidifier lulled her to sleep. An hour later, her mother woke her.

  “Come on, sweetie. It’s time to go to the doctor. I grabbed your pillow and blanket for the car ride.”

  Stephanie stood up and grabbed her coat from the hall tree. “Why now? I mean, two days before the st
ate finals. It’s like a cruel joke,” she complained as her mother walked her out to the car.

  “I don’t know, honey, but it will be okay. I promise.”

  ***

  Stephanie’s eyes snapped open. She looked at the digital alarm clock on her nightstand. The back-lit face read 5:00 am. She had slept for almost eighteen hours. The doctor had diagnosed her with flu, given her a shot and some antibiotics, saying she couldn’t go to school until her fever was down.

  She got up and tiptoed to the bathroom, closed the door, and switched on the light. Grabbing the thermometer from the counter, she shook it down and stuck it under her tongue. A minute later she plucked it from her mouth.

  “Dammit! A hundred and two!”

  Stephanie stared in the mirror as a recent conversation with her coach, Coach Riley, played over and over in her mind.

  Stephanie, I know you’re tired and you want to be with your friends, but sometimes you have to give up a piece of yourself if you want to be the best, and this…this would be one of those times.

  Coach Riley would have been in the ’84 Olympics in Los Angeles if he hadn’t torn his rotator cuff during trials. There were times when she hated him, but deep down she respected him. He pushed her to do her best and keep working, even when she thought she would throw up from the exertion. She wondered what he would think about her missing a second day of practice. It didn’t matter, though. She needed to lie back down and rest.

  By Friday morning, Stephanie’s fever had broken and she wasn’t throwing up any more. She was determined to go to school and make practice. After her shower, she threw on her sweatpants—they fit loosely after not eating for two days. She pulled her gray “Columbia City Swimming” sweatshirt over her head, grabbed her shoes, and went down to the kitchen. Her mother and Tyler were sitting at the table. Her father had already left for the police department.

  Her mother looked at her with concern. “Oh, honey. Are you sure you want to go to school today? I can tell you still don’t feel well.”