Jake removed his share of the emergency camping gear from his storage cubby as I emptied mine, each of us hauling a load to a flat spot just under the tree line. My man, the consummate planner, always insisted we carry the proper gear, right from the first time we’d kayaked together, and this trip was no different. “Never paddle unprepared. The ocean is unforgiving,” he always said.
By the time I set down the bundles in my arms, Jake was unrolling our shelter. “Let’s set up so you can change,” he said. “Unfortunately, no campfires for us. They’re not allowed here, even if we could get one started.”
“I know the drill.” I linked the poles as Jake spread the tent, and within minutes, we’d pitched our snug accommodations. Taking care to keep the sleeping pads and bags safe from the rain, I transferred them into the tent while Jake selected some food and stowed the rest in a dry bag.
He hoisted our cache into a tree several feet from our camp. “The food’s safe from the critters,” he said. “Now, out of those wet clothes.”
“I bet you’d like that.” I wrinkled my nose.
“Yup. Get naked. Leave your gear out front.” He patted my butt, but turned to sort the last of the gear, throwing a light tarp over the pile as I slipped off my shoes.
I peeled off my leggings and top and crawled inside the tent.
By the time the nearly naked Jake arrived, I’d donned my extra set of clothes and crawled into one of the sleeping bags, drawing it up to my chin.
“Here.” He handed me the thermos and a bag of high-energy snacks. “Might as well dig in. Even if this blows over, it’ll be too late to paddle back, so we’re here overnight. I hung our gear in the little alcove, so hopefully it will be reasonably dry in the morning.”
He pulled on sweats and a t-shirt and crawled into his own sleeping bag while I poured coffee and opened a bag of granola bites. “Thanks,” he said, tossing a couple into his mouth.
Though the tent shook and quivered as it was buffeted by gusts of wind, and rain pelted the top and sides, we were snug and dry, safe on solid land until this storm let up. No small thing, as these violent outbursts of weather could take either mere minutes or numerous hours to end. One never knew.
“I’m thrilled to have something hot.” I cradled my coffee between numb fingers as Jake moved closer, holding out his arm, encouraging me to rest against his chest.
“Sorry I risked those conditions.”
“You checked the forecast, and that’s all you can do. Anyway, no harm done. There are far worse things than cuddling in a tent.” I set aside my empty cup, sinking further into his arms. “Why were you so panicked when we got to shore?”
His shoulders barely lifted, but his jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened around his mug.
“You never lose it like that, and you know I’m trained for kayak recovery. You’re the one who taught me what to do when I capsize, so what’s the issue?”
“My total lack of judgment scared me.” He cleared his throat. “Today we cut it close, mistaking the severity of that storm, and it’s unacceptable. We should have used Greg’s power boat.” He sighed, resting his cheek against my hair.
“What is it?”
“What is what?” he asked in a gravelly tone.
“That thing that’s leaving those dark circles under your eyes and has you second guessing. This isn’t you, Jake. You’re not this uptight, overly serious guy.”
“Being a father changes everything. I can’t take stupid risks with a baby at home.”
“We both know there’s more to it than that. What about the nightmares?”
“Stop.” He scrubbed a hand over his face then shifted me, reclining and tucking an arm under his head.
I lay facing him, reaching out to cup his cheek in my palm. “Can’t you trust me with whatever is bothering you? How can we move forward if you won’t talk to me?”
Jake stared at me, expressionless. Then that tiny crease appeared. “It’s a lot.”
“But nothing I can’t handle. Let me prove it.”
The tiny shake of his head accompanied his hitching breath.
“Please.” I stroked his rough, stubbly jaw with my thumb. “Let me understand what keeps you awake at night. Tell me what causes those nightmares.”
“It’s always the same.” He closed his eyes, inhaling roughly. “All disjointed and dark. A baby wailing, and I’m running through a dark house, but I can’t find her. So many locked doors and stairs and halls that go nowhere in a convoluted maze that leads on forever. Then the crying stops, and I see her, so pale and still. I can smell it, taste it, so weirdly pungent and sickly sweet, gagging me.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth, my eyes burning, nausea stirring in my belly.
“Reality seeps into everything, even my dreams, creating a nightmare.” He bit his lip, his breathing heavy and halting. “The moment I got home, I knew something was wrong. I found her on our bed.”
“Her?” I whispered. “Alysa?”
“She did it while I was at work. Emptied two bottles of her medication. Sari was in the playpen, making these weird little noises as if she’d run out of breath to cry. Judging by the mess in her diaper and the soaked sheet, it had been hours.”
Tears trickled down my cheeks, and I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into his chest. “Jake. That’s unimaginable. I’m so sorry.”
“I thought she was getting better, that the counselling sessions and medications were working.” He pressed his face to my hair. “I was worried about all the bills and went back to work.”
All I
