by P. C. Cast
Chapter Two
HINDSIGHT, Isabel Cantelli decided in hindsight, sucked. She came to this conclusion after steering to avoid a chipmunk and having her SUV spin out of control.
She probably shouldn't have been digging for her dropped cell while she was happily singing "Camelot" and driving sixty on a dirt road. She probably should have let that little dude fend for himself instead of trying to be a hero saving him. Hindsight wasn't fifty-fifty. It was, at the moment, zero-one hundred.
But shoulda, coulda, woulda wasn't going to help her now. She and her Nissan were flying into Grand Lake at an alarming speed.
Isabel braced herself for the swan dive they were about to accomplish, which she doubted would be graceful. The lake, which she'd found magical just minutes ago, was about to kick her in the ass.
So many thoughts raced through her mind. Strangely enough, none of the ones she expected when she knew she was about to die. Her life didn't flash before her eyes; the life she hadn't lived yet did.
Terror, fear of the pain of dying, that all flashed. But the sadness of what she hadn't yet achieved was occupying her brain.
Her car hit the lake with what felt like a nuclear blast. And the air bag had exploded on her, practically trapping her in her seat. When it finally deflated, she tried to unbuckle her seat belt, but for some reason, it wouldn't let go. Since her window had been down, the car was filling up with water and sinking fast.
Unless a miracle showed up, there was no way she would survive. She was on her way to dying, and it was terrifying. Her heart beat desperately, and she knew that wasn't going to last long. She apologized to her heart for letting it down. She apologized to her liver for not mistreating it as much as she could have over the years. What a wasted chance. But even though she thought of friends and family, Isabel's life never passed before her eyes, like so many assure people it will when dying.
Her focus, as her chest squeezed painfully, was all of the things she hadn't accomplished yet. How could she have forgotten how much more she wanted out of life? The big one was that she'd never found love. Lust, sure. Attraction, sure. But not that elusive thing called true love. To look at a man and know, absolutely, they were meant for each other.
There were many others on her list, but she sure would have liked to experience the feeling of being desperately in love.
Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda.
And then, suddenly, she felt alive again. And she knew, just knew, that somehow, someway, she was being given a second chance.
