Out of the Blue

by Kathryn Nolan

  Dora held her shoulders. “You can do this. I know you can.”

  Prue and Kalei wrapped her in a group hug from behind, and Serena laughed, looking powerful and strong. The sun sparkled off the gold in her hair and highlighted the scar on her cheek. Like my father’s joy, it was also easy for me to forget what it was like watching a person do the very thing they loved the most—hobby, career, vocation. Whatever you wanted to call it, the confidence, the sense of purpose, was so obvious it tightened my throat.

  In the past when I stood on this beach as her boyfriend and then husband, I was always planted at the intersection of apprehension and appreciation. I was stuck in the middle, unable to fully accept either emotion: the fear that was natural and the admiration too.

  I can see him really clearly, and it makes me feel safe.

  Awareness tickled at the back of my neck. My focus wandered to the waves, waves my father had once called priceless. I blinked, and knew I was only projecting the comforting image Serena had given me. But I saw him out there—a flash of delight and movement—before he disappeared.

  Once, on this very same beach, we had a picnic together as a family, and he’d taken short breaks to surf. He’d taught himself how to do a handstand on his board—although not well—and fell off so many times trying to impress us that my sister and I had stomach aches from laughing.

  For my father, life was never not fun, but that didn’t mean he ignored the injustice in this world or a call for help from someone in need.

  “Serena Swift, your heat is up.”

  She flashed me a pretty smile over her shoulder.

  “Remember. It’s mathematically impossible for you to suck,” I said.

  She winked, and my heart skipped a beat. Then she picked up her board and ran toward the waves as the crowd cheered.

  Dora didn’t hesitate to drag me next to her. “It’s weird seeing you here in a suit. You really stand out, you know.”

  “That’s part of the whole security package,” I said with a shrug. “I’m trying to give off the whole I’ve got a special set of skills vibe with my choice in tie.”

  She chuckled to herself. Cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled Serena’s name.

  Both Prue and Kalei were beaming at me with cheesy grins.

  “Hey there,” I said. “You got something to say?”

  Prue looped an arm around her wife’s shoulders. “We’re happy to have you back, is all.”

  “I’m not… back, per se,” I said, though I’d had my head buried between Serena’s thighs not twelve hours earlier.

  “It’s a thing they’re doing right now,” Dora added in between wolf-whistles. “Pretending like they hate working together and that they’ll never date again.”

  “That’s so cute,” Kalei said.

  I rolled my eyes up to the sky. “It’s not cute. I’m a highly trained professional, and I’m not here to gossip about my non-existent relationship with my client.”

  All three women stared me down until I sheepishly said, “Okay, I thought I was pulling it off.”

  “You two are so obvious they can see your relationship status from space,” Kalei said. “Just accept it. We all have.”

  I shook my head but grinned at them both. “I missed you guys.”

  “Same here,” Prue said. “Now let’s watch your girl kick major ass.”

  The distraction had been nice, but as their attention turned to the water, I felt myself start to panic. Dora touched me lightly on the arm.

  “I know it’s hard,” she said gently.

  I nodded but didn’t answer. My eyes were still on the sand. Next to me, Prue said, “I get scared when I watch Kalei surf. And vice versa. Watching the love of your life put themselves in danger isn’t exactly pleasant.”

  I had promised, though, and Serena and I were somehow, against all odds, slowly rebuilding what we’d lost.

  I needed to follow through with my promises.

  Behind me came a rousing cheer, and Kalei grabbed my arm. “But when you don’t watch, you miss out on moments like this.”

  The excitement in her voice drew my attention up. Suddenly I was watching Serena surf, live, for the very first time. I broke out in a cold sweat before my brain caught up with what I was seeing. She was paddling along the lip of a classic Wedge wave—sharply pointed, probably thirty feet high, and coming in hot like a speeding train.

  “Go, go, go,” Dora was chanting.

  She pushed up on her board, body low and strong. Her arms reached for balance as she whipped down the face, hurtling through the water, sliding under a short barrel that shot her out clean.

  Spray flew behind her, fingers catching in the wave as it kept pushing her for another few seconds. She was incredible.

  She was magnificent.

  As the momentum slowed, she dropped down to her board and straddled it. She faced the audience, and I swear to god she smiled right at me.

  It hooked me right in the heart.

  I couldn’t believe I’d denied myself the pleasure of Serena’s talent, had denied myself the pleasure of having this warrior woman smile at me like I was her everything.

  Another set was rolling in fast, tall and choppy. She swam beneath the first wave then paddled fast to catch the second. She was balanced so high in the air my stomach bottomed out as her board tipped over. Suddenly she was racing across another wall of water in that same strong and balanced position. The wave curled behind her, forcing her forward. She caught a path up the end of the swell, hit the ledge fast and reached down, holding her board as she jumped it in the air and spun all the way around.

  She landed perfectly with a spray of water like a fin behind her. The audience went wild.

  “Damn,” Dora said. “Now I need to buy her a whole cake.”

  I stepped forward in the sand, compelled to keep watching her now.

  ‘Serena,’ I wanted to say, ‘You are a masterpiece.’

  Was this how my mother could withstand watching my father compete for all those years? Through the filter of fear beat a pride that made me want to drop to one knee and beg her to marry me all over again.

  She had about four minutes left, time to catch a final wave if she got lucky on the incoming set. Her score from the first two was coming in on the digital board behind us.

  She was in the lead. And she appeared loose out there, calm. People were calling her name, and as I scanned the audience, there were so many women there I recognized as surfers. There was even a group of little girls jumping up and down with small signs. All of this I used to miss—the adrenaline, the community, the connection.

  All of us watching a woman attempt to fly and actually succeed.

  Behind her, I could see the shape of the wave forming with another, smaller one right behind it. This happened at The Wedge often, two waves colliding to form a swell known for its danger. The sheer force of it knocked surfers right off their boards.

  Serena either wasn’t aware of the combo or wasn’t afraid.

  Kalei said, “Oh shit.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  I took another step forward, heart in my throat. She was paddling hard, but the second she pushed up, it was obvious the wave was unpredictable. She wobbled, almost losing her footing before taking a spray of water to the face. For one long, bittersweet moment, it seemed like she had it.

  The second wave cut through the first like a butcher knife, right where Serena was. They collided around her as I swallowed bile.

  “Oh my god,” Dora said—and the alarm in her voice stopped my heart. The audience was hushed as the third wave in that set knocked into Serena.

  She hung suspended in the air, arms and legs outstretched, reaching toward me.

  Then she went headfirst into the churning fury of the sea.

  I was vaguely aware of Dora calling my name. Just as I was vaguely aware of ditching my shoes, socks, and jacket. I ripped the tie clear from my body and tore my shirt off as I sprinted toward the waves that held Sere
na beneath the water.

  Rescue crews on jet skis were already on their way, but I didn’t have time to fucking wait. The two-wave monster finally reached the shore and was instantly sucked back into the ocean.

  Serena didn’t surface.

  My arms pumped, legs burning as I hit the water going full speed. I didn’t even register the icy shock of the Pacific Ocean or the strength of the tide. I ran through it like a battering ram, endlessly searching for her arms, her head. A light blue object flew out of the spray.

  It was her surfboard.

  The water was at my waist when I started swimming, grateful for a father who had taught his children how to handle themselves in the ocean. Some things in this world were simple muscle memory, and I could feel his presence now as my arms worked as hard as they ever had.

  There was a break in sets so the first wave that approached was small. I did what my dad trained me to do—made my body as streamlined as possible and dove beneath it, searching for the pocket of calm beneath the roar.

  My skin burned from the water, and my lungs screamed for air. When I surfaced, I heard rescue crews calling her name. Serena. Serena. Serena. I spit out water and shoved the wet hair from my eyes.

  Where the hell was she?

  I remembered her apnea training, how upset it had made me. But now I could have wept with gratitude. Wherever she was, she had lungs that could keep her alive for whole minutes at a time.

  Because at least a minute had passed, and she hadn’t appeared.

  Another wave, slightly larger than the last, rose up in front of me. I dove beneath it and surfaced with eyes streaming. I paddled in place, turning in circles, calling her name in a hoarse voice.

  And like a miracle, her head broke through the water twenty feet away from me.

  34

  Serena

  I stared down from the top of a wave three-stories high.

  A nanosecond later it felt like a herd of elephants stampeded into me. My board flew backwards. I wasn’t on it. I went ice-cold with terror. Reached for my husband, standing on the beach.

  All hell broke loose.

  The ability to think clearly vanished. It was only thanks to years of dedicated apnea training that I managed to plug my nose and take the fullest inhale I could before I was sucked, face-first, into a churning maelstrom.

  I got picked up in the barrel, whipped around like a rag doll, then forced deep below by the next wave. And although being deep in the ocean wasn’t exactly good, I could just make out the faint light of the sun which meant I knew which way was up.

  The water was still churning, yanking at my arms and legs, and I knew I’d only surface to another wave holding me down.

  I sank further and tried not to panic, harnessing my adrenaline like my brother said. Holding tight to it like a rope that would lead me to sweet freedom. The distinct burn in my lungs told me it had probably been just under a minute, but I wasn’t naive enough to risk much longer than that. I’d taken a deep breath but nowhere near what I was able to do in training. I guessed I had a minute of air left, maybe less. I started to count, if only to give my screaming muscles and lungs something to focus on. Sixty… Fifty-nine… Fifty-eight…

  There was no anger about my parents keeping me focused this time.

  I thought about Cope instead, flooding my brain with endorphins and joyful memories. I prepared this seriously to give myself a fighting chance on a wipeout this bad.

  I wanted a fighting chance for him, for the true love that had stormed back into my life in a bodyguard’s suit and the same charming grin.

  Forty-five… Forty-four… Forty-three…

  The water had gone still, and my body was throwing up all the signs of passing the point of no return, oxygen-wise. I yanked the cord on my life vest to help me get to the surface and stretched my arms toward the light. My lungs begged for fresh air as I kicked and kicked, and when my head broke through, I gulped in the most precious and delicious oxygen I’d ever tasted.

  I whipped around, coughing up water, searching for rogue waves and the sound of jet skis. I raised my arms up as high as I could, yelled “Help!” The two skis saw me but were far away. I must have drifted under the water farther than I realized.

  “Serena.”

  I would recognize my husband’s ragged growl of emotion anywhere, even in the middle of a wipeout. I turned around to see his powerful arms swimming toward me, and I fully believed I was delirious from lack of oxygen.

  The look of agony and ecstasy on his face indicated my rescuer was all too real.

  I had never known a relief so powerful in my entire life.

  “Cope?” I yelled. I coughed up even more water.

  He collided with me, strong arms wrapping around my waist and holding me up. I clung to his neck in unadulterated elation, panting and coughing too much to speak.

  “Are you okay?” He pulled back to check me over. The fear there broke my heart.

  I managed to nod and say, “We have… Cope, the jet skis.”

  He spun around immediately, one arm waving. We could see the skis moving towards us, but a big wave was cresting near them, pushing them back and forcing them farther away. Every time they tried to get around, they got stuck in the same churning whirlpool that The Wedge was known for.

  A sick feeling was growing in my stomach, and I knew the reason.

  I could feel it.

  It was in the way the hair stood up on my arms, the tingling sensation in my legs, the tug of the tides beneath us. As Cope yelled himself hoarse, I turned my head to the left and froze with fear.

  “Cope,” I whispered. He didn’t hear me. “Cope, look at me.”

  I tugged him around and grabbed him by the cheeks, keeping his eyes on my face.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “There’s another wave coming. Do not look at it, look at me.”

  He obeyed, though I could tell it cost him, could tell he wanted to see the monster we were facing. Except I knew from Caleb’s training about the danger of panic, how important it was for both people to stay calm.

  I could do that for us, I knew I could. But I couldn’t have Cope seeing the slowly forming, building-high wall of water approaching us.

  “The skis won’t make it in time so we’re going to dive beneath it, okay? Your dad taught you how to do that, right?”

  “Yeah, but—” His voice shook. “Is it bad?”

  I gripped his face harder. “I will not let anything happen to you, Cope McDaniels. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” he said, breathing jagged, mouth inches from mine. “Yes, of course. Always.”

  He must have heard the roar. His eyes widened. I slid off my life vest since it wouldn’t let us sink and grabbed hold of Cope’s hand.

  “On my count we are going to dive. I need you to kick as hard as you ever have, and I’m going to drag us down as deep as we can go.” I chanced a glance at what was coming. We were quickly running out of time.

  “Serena.” His voice was a terrified plea.

  “I know,” I said. “I know. I’m scared too. But we’re going to save each other, alright? You are going to take the biggest fucking breath of your life. Hold my hand. Do not let go. I’ll bring us back to the surface when I think it’s safe.”

  He was nodding at everything, staring at me like we were never going to see each other again. He grabbed my face and kissed me—it was hard, brutal, passionate. “I love you so much, sunshine.”

  The wave was mere seconds from hitting us. Already our bodies were rising, getting dragged toward a force of nature we weren’t meant to tangle with. I wanted to press pause, kiss Cope forever, tell him over and over that I loved him to the moon and back. That I’d never stopped loving him, not for an hour, not for a day.

  But we needed to survive first.

  “Big breath,” I coached. I squeezed his hand and inhaled with him, thankful for all the times he did breathing exercises with me. The roar was getting louder. With my fingers, I counted
down: three… two… one.

  We dove beneath the foam together.

  I didn’t give myself time to think or give in to fear. I swam, holding Cope, with everything I had in me, with every bit of strength and drop of energy. After this, I was going to bake Dora a hundred cakes for all those tortuous training sessions she used to make me do, walking on the floor of the pool while carrying heavy weights.

  Cope’s hand stayed in mine as we swam and swam. I tilted my face up, caught the fading light. Up, thank god. The tail end of the wave shoved us forward but didn’t drag us with it. The roll of water passed us by, and I tugged him with me toward the light, toward air, toward our future.

  The closer we got, the more I heard the jet skis. We broke the surface together, coughing and sputtering as our rescue arrived on a red-and-white jet ski. Two divers reached down and yanked us onto the long flat board behind it. He pressed a loop of rope into our hands.

  “Hold on tight,” he yelled. Before I realized what was happening, we were dragged off, going a million miles an hour toward the safety of the shore.

  We turned to one another with matching weak but euphoric grins. It was too loud to really talk, and we were still coughing up buckets of water, but we didn’t break eye contact once, not even as we reached the shore. I dimly registered the sound of the crowd pushing in and medics calling for space.

  The only thing I cared about was telling the truth.

  I tapped his ear. He dipped his head to my mouth.

  I whispered, “I love you too.”

  35

  Cope

  Serena and I sat on the back of an ambulance, parked right on the beach with blankets wrapped around our shoulders. A kind paramedic pressed a stethoscope to my back as I inhaled and exhaled. He was working extremely patiently as Dora, Prue, and Kalei kept an anxious vigil off to the side.

  Everything hurt. Everything.

  “Once more,” he said. I did it again, expanding my sore lungs. Serena caught my eye. I couldn’t control the smile that spread across my face.