by Camille Eide
Emily looked up at Ian. An amused smile had settled over his face. Biting her lip, she held her breath and selected camera mode. “So ...” She raised her phone above the edge of the table, tilted it to what she hoped was the right angle, and snapped. “How long did you go to school there?” She sent the picture and stuffed the phone in her pocket.
“About a year and a half. But we moved away before I graduated.” He frowned, and it seemed as if he would say more, but instead, he leaned forward and wiped the beads of condensation off his glass. “What about you? You must have happy childhood memories.”
“Tons.” If I go back far enough. “Most from when I was little. I loved to tag along with my mom, especially in the summer when she worked in the yard. Sometimes, I would hide under an umbrella in the corner of our backyard—my secret lookout. I’d lie really still and watch the honeysuckle bushes, waiting for my favorite little visitors.”
Chirp-hum.
“Ah. Let me guess. Snakes?”
“Ew, no. Hummingbirds.” Emily laughed, ignoring her cell phone. “I had this theory. The hummingbirds came to our yard for magic nectar that came only from our honeysuckle. They took it back to the Hummingbird Queen, who used it to make a special kind of perfume.”
Ian smiled. “To attract a hummingbird king, no doubt.”
“Actually, I believed it gave her the ability to protect her beloved colony. As long as she protected them, her subjects would live forever.”
“Forever?” He quirked a frown. “Emily, I hate to tell you this, but—”
“Hey, I was six, okay?” Grinning, she flicked a packet of oyster crackers at him. “The honeysuckle scent was really strong on hot days, which was good because I was convinced the birds needed to smell it to find their way to our yard. One day, it wasn’t very warm and I was afraid they couldn’t smell the flowers and would get lost. Mom joined me at the lookout and we waited together. She whispered, ‘They’ll find their way, Emmy. Don’t worry.’ I remember waiting forever—like two whole minutes—and suddenly, a hummingbird appeared. We held our breath. Her wings hummed as she hovered over the flowers, collecting nectar.”
“Magical nectar.” His brows raised in an exaggerated look of correction.
Emily smiled and watched tiny bubbles fizz around the melting ice in her Coke. “Mom spent a lot of time with me. I had no idea those times we spent together would end up being so priceless.” She rolled her eyes. “I know, don’t say it. I’m horribly sentimental.”
“Oh, aye,” he said. “Horribly. To be honest, I don’t know how you live with yourself.” His soft chuckle brought a sparkle to his eyes.
Chirp-hum.
Something in the way he looked seized her, something tender. As his eyes held her captive, a surge of warmth welled in her chest.
Whoa, chica. Enough of that.
As Emily poked a spoon around in her chowder, a shadowy image came to mind—her dad sitting in the dark surrounded by trash and empty beer bottles. Bitter and alone.
She put her spoon down. As it turned out, she wasn’t that hungry after all. When she looked up, Ian was staring at his lunch. She pushed her bowl away. “I’m ready to conquer some more beach whenever you are.”
“Ready.” He nearly sprang from his chair.
As they headed away from the shops, Emily looked back.
Two bowls of world-famous chowder sat cold, hardly touched. Apparently, he wasn’t that hungry either.
On the beach, colorful kites emerged on the horizon, drawn by the stiffening breeze. Emily silenced her chirping phone and concentrated on keeping up with Ian’s long strides. “Tell me about your nieces and nephews.”
Ian drew a deep breath. “Jack is sixteen, a natural-born leader. Douglas is fourteen and dying to be in charge. Kallie is eight and actually is in charge. Gets that from her mum. Or her great-grannie, Maggie. And then there’s little Hannah, Princess of Faeries and All Things Purple.”
Emily glanced up. The smile etched into his profile as he focused on the sand ahead said it clearly. He was crazy about those kids. “Do you see them often?”
“I try to stop at Claire’s flat when I’m in Glasgow, and sometimes they come out to the farm. Kallie is always hounding me to—”
Emily glanced up.
His lips were clamped tight.
They walked a few more yards in silence, but the quiet only deepened her curiosity. “What does she want you to do?”
It took a moment for him to answer. “She wants me to paint her some pictures. Like the ones I did for Jack.” He scanned the sea’s endless horizon as they walked. “Just something I did for him when he was a wee lad. A long time ago.”
“Painting? That’s a hobby I haven’t heard about.”
He shook his head. “Not a hobby.”
“Really? What then?”
Ian didn’t answer. He stooped to pick up a rock from the sand. “I studied art, did some illustrating. For a short time.” With a forceful snap, he hurled the rock out to sea.
“Really? That’s fascinating.” What other secret talents did Ian have? “I didn’t know.”
He snatched up another rock and kept walking.
“So, you were planning a career as an illustrator?” As the words came out, she winced. Duh, Em. Why else would he have studied it?
They walked on for a while in silence. Finally, he said, “I was. But I changed my mind.” He chucked the second rock, sending it much farther than the first.
How sad that something from so long past was still hard to talk about.
He glanced over. “But, eventually, I became a writer, which is what brought me here. And for that, I’m glad.”
Emily couldn’t help but notice even he didn’t seem all that convinced.
CHAPTER NINE
As they trekked north along the beach for a while, Ian examined the shoreline. How different it looked from the craggy shores back home.
The tide worked its way out, widening the beach as breaking waves sent sheets of foamy water surging inland. Seagulls soared above them on the breeze, shrill cries sounding like people shrieking. A middle-aged couple strolled past hand in hand, footsteps slapping the wet sand in unison flicking spatters of gritty water behind them.
In spite of little fuel, Ian felt charged. But as the afternoon ebbed with the tide, the gnawing in his stomach increased. Dinner wouldn’t come soon enough. “What do you think?” he asked. “Ready to head back yet?”
She pulled out her mobile. “Yeah. Aunt Grace and the others will probably be back soon.”
As they turned round and headed in the direction of the lodge, Emily kept her phone out.
What time was it? He glanced over her shoulder and saw his name.
Xplain U & Johnny Gorgeous MacLean @the beach or I’m so crashing your party!
Johnny? Gorgeous? Should he feel flattered or alarmed? Or both? Perhaps Emily would xplain in time to derail the party-crashing whomever.
Emily tucked her phone away and pointed. A pair of kids stood braced, daring the bubbling water to reach them. The kids waited as long as they could before running away, squealing as the broken waves swept toward them over the sand.
With a grin, Emily kicked off her sandals and skipped across the shallow surf toward the sea.
Ian slipped off his flip-flops and followed, then gasped at the icy water. “Och! Are you daft? It’s freezing!” He hopped from one foot to the other.
“Hey, this is tropical for Oregon.” She kicked a good-sized splash at Ian.
He dodged some of it, bent down, and scooped a handful of water at Emily.
She sidestepped and missed most of the scattered spray. “Nice try.” She spun and jogged along the glistening water’s edge.
He followed, forming plans for revenge.
The plaintive shrieks of seagulls sounded especially odd. Shrill, like—
Whirling round, Ian searched the water.
Emily stopped too, head cocked as if listening, watching the shifting swells. “There!�
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Ian scanned the waves and spotted a head and flailing arms.
Emily took off into the ocean, kicking up water as she ran. Then she dove into the surf.
Dashing toward the person, Ian hit the icy water, steeling himself against the shock.
A few yards ahead, Emily surfaced, screaming, “No! Go back! Get help!” and went under.
He pressed on and, waist-deep, he felt the horrendous force of an undertow pulling him down.
Emily bobbed up again and gasped for air. “Get rope—” and then disappeared.
Ian planted his feet in the sand and bent his knees to brace against the back current, but it tore at him with a monstrous pull. Get Emily—or get help—God, help me! Ian turned and waved his arms. “Help! Someone’s in trouble! Help!”
People farther down the beach yelled.
He turned to find the spot where he’d last seen Emily and the person.
Nothing.
Dear God—
Heart pounding, he yelled, “Emily! Hold on!”
Two men hit the water and ran toward him.
“We need a rope!” Ian yelled at them. “The undercurrent is too strong!” Holding his breath, he scanned the waves for Emily but saw no one. A rush of adrenaline numbed him. God, help her! Help me get her out!
He had nothing but himself and two men. More people approached as if ready to help.
Human rope!
Ian shouted to the men, “Link arms, make a chain!”
Others joined them and formed a line. As the two reached Ian, he said, “Keep the line coming out as far as you can and stand fast. I’m going in!” Ian gulped the deepest breath he’d ever drawn and went under.
The current sucked him down to the ocean floor. Dark, murky swirls of cold, sandy water filled his vision and stung his eyes. Panic slammed through his aching chest. He pushed off the bottom and aimed in the direction he had last seen her. He surfaced and sucked in another breath as he scanned the swells.
No Emily.
He went under again. Tumbling against sand and grit, he fought the churning seawater, lungs bursting, arms flung wide, feeling all round. He bumped into a large object.
A person!
He hooked one arm round the person as tightly as he could. With ocean floor beneath his feet, he fought against the current with all his might.
God? Emily? Where are you?
Garbled voices blended with the roar of water as it rushed round them. Hands groped for him from behind.
He tugged the body to his chest while someone grabbed his shirt and shoulders and yanked him up. He cupped the victim’s chin, but felt another head at the same time. Two people?
Hands and arms took hold of Ian and pulled hard. He broke the surface again and inhaled a giant lungful of air.
In his arms, Emily gasped for air and gagged, her arms wrapped tightly round a teenaged boy.
The muffled sounds of shouting turned sharp and clear above the roar of water as someone towed the three of them—Ian clutching Emily and the boy—to shore.
“We got ’em, man. Let go, we got ’em!”
Ian’s legs braced against the pull of the water. He was standing on firm sand.
People streamed toward them from all directions. Someone took the boy and others pried Emily, coughing and gasping, from Ian’s arms.
He grasped for her wrist. “Emily!”
She shook her head and croaked, “We got him. Is he okay?”
Sirens whooped from beyond the beach.
Shivering, Emily tried to walk but staggered.
Ian gripped her shoulders. “Take a breath, Emily. Are you sure you’re okay? Breathe, love.”
Emily drew a deep breath, coughed a few more times, then bent with hands on knees.
Ian glanced over his shoulder.
A crowd surrounded the boy. Someone worked to resuscitate him. In the distance, paramedics were running toward them.
Ian turned his attention to Emily.
Trembling, she raised her face to him and started to speak, but a sharp breath stopped her. She frowned and laid a palm on her chest.
“What? What is it?”
She stood there for a moment. She seemed to be measuring the rise and fall of her chest beneath her hand.
“What’s wrong?”
Wide-eyed, Emily exhaled and shook her head. “Probably just stress. Are you okay?”
Numb and shivering, he nodded.
“Come on, then.” She swiped away the hair that clung to her face and tugged him across the sand to where a crowd had gathered round the boy. She dropped to her knees. “Dear God, let him live,” she whispered. “Please let him live.”
Still shaking, Ian knelt beside her.
A medic pumped the lad’s chest, cleared his airway, resumed compressions.
Emily continued to pray.
Ian watched and waited in a daze, heart racing.
A few teens came crushing into the circle. “Danny!” A girl screamed. “Danny? What happened?”
Some of the early observers kept the kids back as the compressions continued.
After seconds that felt like an eternity, the boy sputtered and retched.
The crowd cheered.
“Thank You.” Emily closed her eyes and whispered. “Thank You, God.”
Aye. Thank You.
An explosion of cheers and conversation erupted.
“You guys are heroes!”
“Man, that was awesome!”
Shivering violently, Emily turned to Ian. Tears trickled from her eyes, mingling with beads of seawater on her pale cheeks. “You were amazing, Ian. Thank you.”
He shook his head. “You saved his life, Emily. You went under and got that lad and didn’t let go, even though it meant—” He couldn’t say it as his throat suddenly felt too constricted to speak. You could have drowned. You just risked your life for a stranger.
She wiped her cheek with the back of a shaky hand. “I knew we were in trouble, and when I saw you coming, I was afraid you’d get trapped too. But you were so quick-thinking with the human chain thing. You saved us, Ian.”
“No, that was all you.”
She threw him a confused look.
“You said get a rope, so I did.”
“Yeah, okay.” She sniffled. “If you won’t take credit, then I’ll tell my version of the story to the newspaper. Once it’s in ink, you won’t be able to deflect the credit with your dorky humor.”
Relief rushed from deep in his gut and washed over him. “Dorky?”
As paramedics loaded the lad onto a canvas stretcher, one of them asked if he could check Emily out.
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” Emily said.
“Hold on.” Ian held up a hand to stop the medic and turned to her. “Emily, you need to let them have a listen. Just a precaution.”
“I’m good, really.”
Ian leaned close, looked her in the eye, and took a deep breath. The tone he felt coming on needed a moment to soften. “Dorky humor aside, I don’t fancy having to explain to Aunt Grace how I let you get pneumonia. So humor me, eh?”
Emily tried to argue but started coughing. With a lopsided grin, she nodded.
Once she received a passing checkup, and after reassuring the bystanders they were both okay, Ian and Emily headed back to the lodge.
Ian chose a slower pace than usual and kept close watch on Emily.
Her head jerked up. “Did you get his name? I want to check later and see if he’s okay.”
“Danny, but that’s all. Someone will ring, I suppose. Did you give them your mobile number?”
“My—” She pulled a dripping phone from her pocket and groaned. “Oh, man. It’s soaked.”
“Ah, that’s too bad, Emily. No calls from reporters. And no more text updates for your friend.” He cleared his throat. “Or photos.”
Emily froze, mouth agape. Pink burst across her face.
“Come on.” Chuckling, he kept walking. “And by the way ... who’s Johnny?”
&
nbsp; CHAPTER TEN
The church seniors had split into two carpools, and the first group had returned to the lodge by the time Ian and Emily arrived. Grace and the second half were expected to arrive soon.
Chilled, Emily headed straight for a hot shower, then changed into sweats. She found some blankets for herself and Ian. When she returned to the main room, Ian had a snap-crackling fire going in the massive stone fireplace. She introduced Aunt Grace’s church friends to Ian.
Though they seemed eager to talk with him, his chattering teeth sent him running to shower.
Cocooned in a thick plaid blanket, Emily watched the dancing flames in a daze and soaked up the heat, breathing in the pungent smell of wood smoke. Grace would be arriving any minute and Emily needed to be there when Ian met her. But if Emily didn’t phone Jaye soon, her manic friend would make land like a hurricane.
Emily slipped into the kitchen to use the house phone. It took several rings for Jaye to answer.
Over the sound of squealing children on Jaye’s end, Emily gave a brief rundown on why she was at the beach with Ian and promised to fill her in later.
“Um, yeah you’ll fill me in, and in full detail. Hey, guys!” Jaye shouted away from the phone. “Pelting Auntie Jaye with tots and nuggets is not funny!” A groan followed. “Listen, Em. You’ve got some explaining to do. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“What?”
“Playing sly, keeping a drop-dead gorgeous guy all to yourself.”
Emily blew out a pffff! and peeked around the doorway into the main room, checking for signs of Grace’s arrival. “Listen, Jaye, I gotta go. I promise I’ll—”
“Promise you won’t run off to Scotland and elope till I meet him, okay?”
“Promise. ’Bye.”
When Emily returned to the main room, Grace still hadn’t appeared. But Ian had returned. Dressed in running gear, he was in the middle of a lively conversation with Gerald, an elderly man from church.
Emily sat on the hearth as close as possible to the fire without singeing her blanket. The quiet moment allowed her to warm up, collect her thoughts, and take in the ocean view.
On the horizon, the setting sun spilled a silvery-orange shimmer over the water. Though warmth had begun to seep back into her body, the deafening roar of seawater and the pounding of her heart still echoed in her ears.
