that summer |percabeth au| ✔︎

5.

chapter | 05
❝ Feelings are hard to find. ❞

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"SOME SAY IT'S THE ENTRANCE TO HELL," Candy said, "but you shouldn't worry too much. It's probably just a legend."

Water surged against the rocks near Thor's Well, white froth ­sizzling in the wave's retreat. It was the morning after, and I'd awoken with the realization that it hadn't been a dream. That my boat was no longer mine and the house that had stood so firmly before the sea could be reclaimed just as easily.

And now I found myself in Cape Perpetua at church. Candy's version, anyway.

Hell?  I mouthed. It was the first time I'd accepted Candy's weekly invitation, but it was starting to make sense why Katie always turned her down. The sun hadn't even risen yet; the sea was cold and gray, and the jagged rocks around us looked blue in the soft light.

"Think of it as a sacred doorway. The entrance to the underneath, the realm below the sea." Candy tucked her auburn mane into a ­headscarf and yanked on the knot. "Ready?"

I glanced at my naked feet. Not wearing hiking boots to traverse volcanic rock was a recipe for injury, but on the drive up Candy had insisted that the best way to connect with the earth was to feel it beneath your bare skin, sharp edges and all. She held out a steadying hand.

I pictured Grams and Fred at Sunday services. Rachel probably still went with them too. The remembered scent of frankincense filled my nose. I longed for a hymnal and a smooth, firm pew, but, as the saying goes: When in Rome...

I grabbed Candy's hand, held on tight.

At least at Candy's church I didn't have to wear a dress. Grams would probably give me the evil eye if she saw. The thought made me smile.

I took a tentative step. Then another.

This stretch of Pacific coast was edged with jagged rock, leftovers from an ancient eruption, and somewhere in the middle lay the hole called Thor's Well. It was a craggy, bottomless pit into which waves crashed and poured, presumably sucked back out to sea. There was a paved pathway from the Cape Perpetua visitor center and a platform that offered a decent view, but at low tide like this, you could walk out on the rocks and get close to the well itself, depending on your risk tolerance.

Even with my death grip on Candy's hand, when it came to tempting the temper of the sea, my risk tolerance was at an all-time low. I swallowed the urge to vomit.

Candy led us to a flat spot in the rocks, still a safe distance from the well, and together we knelt down. Cold water soaked my pants, chilled my legs. With her hands spread flat at her sides, she pressed her forehead to the exposed rock and whispered devotionals to the sea. Even at low tide the surf was restless; I couldn't hear her words, but likely she was thanking the Pacific for its gifts, for its beauty.

Acknowledging its power in the face of our infinite human ­fumbling. Our smallness.

I wrapped myself in a tight hug, fought off a shiver.

The water calmed around us. We sat in companionable silence, watching the first orange rays of sunlight poke through the mist, and I stretched out my fingers to catch them. It still had the power to shock me, the lack of warmth here. My skin prickled with goose bumps.

"So, last night," Candy said, finished with her morning prayers. No matter how delicate the situation, she entered conversations like she entered a room, suddenly and intentionally, and I braced myself for whatever was coming. "It was probably a bit much for you, meeting so many people at once. Strong personalities."