by Lori Weber
Jim jumps from ledge to ledge, sometimes sliding down carefully to the next one when they are farther apart. The rope stretches out behind him like an umbilical cord, tethered to the wooden post of the lifesaver stand. It doesn’t take long for him to reach the girl and tie the rope around her. Then he loops it around his own waist and signals upward, his thumb in the air.
“He’s got her,” one of the rangers calls out. “Let’s hope everything’s good now until the emergency comes.”
Jim tries to lift the girl, but she doesn’t seem to be able to put much weight on her feet. He puts her arm around his neck and supports her, finally getting her upright. He moves her as close to the rock wall as he can, so that she is no longer out in the middle of the landing.
We all see it coming, but we are completely helpless to do anything about it—a giant wave that gathers like a ridge in the ocean, rising and cresting, as if some angry sea monster has unleashed its giant breath. Instead of screaming, we are all stunned silent. The women around me are pointing and gasping, the men grabbing the rope along its length. When the wave jumps up, we all fall dead silent—one giant intake of breath. My breath catches on the salty air, as though it’s the last breath I’ll ever take. I cover my mouth with my hand, even though no sound was coming out, as the wave leaps onto the rock, scooping up Jim and the girl. It seems like they are inside the spray for ages, like everything is happening in slow motion, like I’ll never be able to see Jim again. I feel as though I’m tumbling down the angry rocks, scraping and cutting myself as I fall.
I don’t want to look, to see what’s at the end of the rope below. I want to turn and run back into the bunker and curl myself into a ball.
Slowly, voices start up again, nobody speaking much above a whisper, as if people are afraid of angering the sea monster below. I pick up the snippets around me without trying to, without really wanting to. I gather that the girl and Jim are still there, but they’re no longer standing.
And Boss? No one says anything about Boss. I tell myself that if she was washed away, she’ll be able to swim back with those giant paws.
I know that I have to look. I have to force myself. I open my eyes slowly, deliberately, ready to shut them again fast, the way you look at a roadside accident. Way below, two bodies are lying on the rock, completely drenched. Jim is no longer holding the girl, but they are still tied to the rope, dangling there like fish that were caught but never reeled in.
That’s when it hits me. If Jim hadn’t gone down there, the girl would be floating out to sea right now. And if he hadn’t tied himself down, he’d be floating out, too. In my mind, I see the girl, Jim, and Boss floating out into the middle of the ocean, past the most eastern tip of Canada into no man’s land, the three of them clinging to each other like a raft. The image makes me shiver.
The girl’s mother, who is standing not too far from me, must be seeing even worse. She is totally still. She isn’t even crying anymore. It’s like she’s turned to stone. Her husband is standing a few feet back from the men who are holding the rope, as if he can’t bring himself to participate. I remember him earlier, telling his kids to back up so he could get them in the frame with the ocean behind them, probably telling himself that the sea was beautiful and calm today. What could happen? He didn’t know rocks could be slippery. He had never heard of rogue waves. Neither had I, before today.
I suddenly picture Nanny here, her beloved Jim crashed out below. She’d be shaking so hard the rock below her would crack.
“The dog!” someone calls out, snapping me back to life. I look down and see Boss dragging her black fur through the water toward the shore. A minute later she’s pulled herself up and is leaping across the rocks to where Jim is lying. I wait for his hand to dig into her fur, to show us he’s okay, but it doesn’t. I don’t dare think about what that could mean. I just tell myself that everything will be okay now that Boss is with Jim. It almost makes the lump in my throat loosen. As if Boss knows what I’m thinking, she curls her huge body up at the foot of Jim and the girl, creating a buffer between them and the unpredictable water.
If Boss were right in front of me, I’d wrap my arms around her huge neck and squeeze. That’s if I could move. I feel like I might never move again, my body is so rigid with fear.
Just then, the sound of sirens fills the air. I hold my breath and cross my fingers, only letting go when I actually see the trucks and ambulance pull into the parking lot. A huge gasp erupts on the rock. Some people actually clap, like it’s the end of a play, or the safe landing of a plane. Down below, Jim and the girl are being tossed, still attached to the rope, on the back of a smaller swell of water. When the wave subsides, they slide back against the rocks. It’s as though we all feel the slam, vibrating under our feet.
Finally, there’s some action with the rescue crew. A whole team of men in orange jackets is running toward the rock, carrying ropes and other equipment. It seems no time at all before they are away over the edge. Another team is leading the parents and son toward the truck. They lead them away slowly, tenderly, as though they know they are on the point of breaking. The mother looks back over her shoulder a few times, but doesn’t resist.
Minutes later, the young girl is carried up by one of the rescuers, followed by Jim with another orange-suited man. Jim seems to be using his own legs, but the rescue worker is lending him a ton of support, backing him up like an extra body. Boss runs up after them, leaping and barking. I stand back and watch the crew wrap Jim and the girl in blankets, then lay them on the stretchers and carry them toward the ambulances. It’s like I am watching things from a great distance, one I don’t know how to close. As if I’m part of things, but not, at the same time, like the rescue had nothing to do with me. Which it didn’t, except that I’m here with Jim.
Suddenly, Boss is barking around my feet. She jumps up and pulls at my arm, spraying me with the water that soaks her fur, as if she wants me to be wet, too, just like her and Jim. It brings me to life and makes me realize I have to do something, fast. Then Boss takes off toward the parking lot, doubling back a couple of times, to make sure I’m following.
I see the men loading Jim into the ambulance. Boss is going wild at their feet. I start to panic again. If I don’t make a sign, they’ll leave without me. Not even my parents know where I am. I picture myself curling up on the stone and waiting for rescue myself, my red sweatshirt glowing like a flare.
“Wait!” I call out on top of my lungs. A few heads turn to look at me. I’m running now, as fast as I can, down the path and toward the parking lot.
“I’m with him,” I say, when I reach the ambulance.
“Why didn’t you say so? Hurry up, get in, we have to get to the hospital.” I jump into the back of the ambulance, and Boss jumps in after me. I dig my fingers into her wet furry neck. Jim is wrapped up in blankets across from us, his eyes shut and one side of his face swollen.
The ambulance starts to speed along the windy, twisty road, past Blackhead and Shea Heights. I can see the first ambulance up ahead, its red light flashing. Inside it, the little girl must be wrapped up like Jim, fighting for her life.
I reach out gingerly and touch the blanket, over Jim’s chest. It’s there, the steady beat of his heart.
Relief gushes out of me, so strongly it startles Boss.
Chapter Six
Pangaea
I JUST DON’T KNOW it,” I say again, for the third time. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but it’s the truth.”
•
“NOT EVEN A PHONE number?” the nurse at the emergency desk asks. “Or a last name?” Jim has been taken away, and I’m supposed to be giving the hospital some information on him. The trouble is, I don’t know much. Poor Boss is on a rope outside, drying on the lawn. I hope somebody thinks to bring her some fresh water. I never understood the irony of people lost at sea dying of thirst, but now I do. The ocean water is so heavy with salt, the whole ambulance just reeked of it, and Boss’s fur was matted with it. She’ll ne
ed to be hosed down.
“I just moved here,” I say. “A few weeks ago. All I can tell you is he lives in the house next to mine, on Gower.” For days I had tried not to notice the brass numbers nailed into the wood outside our house. I either closed or diverted my eyes whenever I passed them. Now I realize that the address has sunk in anyway, without my knowing it. But I really don’t know what number Jim’s is. It could be higher or lower.
A police officer comes up behind me. “This her?” he asks. The nurse nods.
“And this is the young man’s wallet. No address. And his car keys.” The nurse hands a large envelope over to the cop.
“I guess you and I’ll take a ride, young lady, and see if we can’t find out where your friend lives.”
“But I really shouldn’t leave him here all alone,” I protest.
“He’s fine,” the nurse pipes in impatiently, twisting her pencil around a single curl that has escaped its bun. “You can come back later, but we really need to let his family know. I’m assuming your family would want to know, too, if you’d nearly drowned.” She glares at me for a second, challenging me to deny this.
We’re about to get into the police car when I remember Boss. “Wait!” I call out. “Jim’s dog. She’s here, tied up. Can we take her home?” I fully expect the officer to say no, that we don’t have time to worry about some dumb old animal, but he doesn’t.
“Sure, good idea,” he says. He even goes over to get Boss, untying her and scratching her gently under the chin. As we drive along Gower, I think how this is just great. I’ve only been here for two weeks, and I’m being driven home by a cop. My parents will flip if they see the car pull up and me get out. They’ll probably think I tried to stow away in the cargo hold of a plane or something. I only hope they’re not sitting out on our stoop, like they’ve taken to doing, waving across to the neighbours, establishing ties.
“That’s mine,” I say, pointing to our house. We no sooner pull up to the curb than my parents are rushing out the door. They must’ve been sitting in the living room, their eyes plastered to the front window. Maybe they wanted to stay near the phone in case I called.
“Cheryl, what happened?” My mother is already fussing over me on the sidewalk, smoothing down my hair and running her hand over my damp sweatshirt.
“I’m okay, Mom. Don’t go nuts.”
“What happened, Cheryl?” asks my dad.
The police officer steps forward. “Slight accident out at Cape Spear. Your daughter’s fine. It’s a young lad named Jim who got the worst of it. We’re trying to locate his house. Is this it?” He points to where Boss is sitting, panting up at Nanny’s door.
“That’s Jim’s,” says my dad.
The cop knocks loudly, but there’s no answer. Jim’s aunt is probably blaring the volume on her television, she’s so hard of hearing. Then I remember what happened to Nanny’s husband. She’ll get the scare of a lifetime seeing a police officer at her door.
“Wait,” I say, before he knocks again. “Jim’s aunt is not really well. Can I go in first? She’ll be scared if she sees you.” When he doesn’t protest, I open the door and call out. “Hello? Are you here, Nanny?” I hear slippers shuffling, then Jim’s aunt appears in the hallway. She looks so little standing up. Her shaking body makes her seem even more scared, like a frightened bird.
“Yes, my love?” she says, looking up at me. “Cheryl, is it?”
“Yes, Nanny.” Nanny comes to the threshold of the house, squinting as though the daylight hurts her eyes.
“Where’s Jim to?” she asks, looking around.
I look over at my mother. Now I wish she knew the story. Then she could help me tell Nanny.
“Well, he kind of got hurt out at Cape Spear, rescuing a little girl. He’s at the hospital.” At that last word Nanny’s face falls, and her cheeks and jaw start to quiver. She raises a shaky hand to her mouth.
The officer steps forward and cuts in. “Hello, Ma’am. I’d like to take you up to the hospital now, if that’s okay? See your nephew. He’s doing real well, no cause for worry.”
I don’t know how the cop knows this. He hasn’t even laid eyes on Jim. Maybe he just senses that it’s what Nanny needs to hear. Nanny starts to move forward, then pauses.
“Do you want me to come with you, Nanny?” I ask. She looks up at me, and her eyes widen.
“Oh, would you, my dear?” she asks. “I’ll just change my shoes.” I steady Nanny as she kicks off her slippers and slides her feet into brown loafers, holding the backs open with a very long shoe horn. I’m glad she doesn’t have to tie any shoelaces. Her hands are so shaky, she’d never manage the bow. Then I take her arm and lead her toward the police car.
Before getting in, I turn to my parents, who are right behind us, looking worried.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” my mom asks. She has that about-to-try-to-hug-me look in her eyes, so I nod quickly.
“What can we do? Let us come with you, honey,” says my Dad. “We can follow in our car.”
Then I remember Nanny’s car. I had completely forgotten that it’s still out there. “If you want to help, maybe you could go out to Cape Spear and bring Jim’s car back. If they’ll let you.” I look over at the police officer.
“I have the key. If you want to, you can do it. We’d have sent someone over later,” he says.
My parents look at each other and nod.
“How do we get there?” my dad asks.
“Water Street over a bridge to Shea Heights, then follow the signs. It’s about half an hour,” the officer says.
“Okay, sure. We can do that,” says my dad. I knew they would. My parents always jump right in, without hesitation.
“We better get back to Jim,” I say. My mom’s eyes are full of tears as she steps forward to help me lower Nanny into the back seat.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say. The tears in her eyes start to spill over.
We wave to them as we pull away, and they wave back, then I watch them grow smaller in the back window.
I reach over and hold Nanny’s hand.
•
NANNY DOESN’T LET go of my hand the whole ride to the hospital. Her skin is so thin, it feels like the top layer of an onion, the one you can practically blow off. I look down at the brown spots that mark her age and wonder what her life was like as a child in that town she mentioned, Fox Island Harbour. Jim told me Nanny is sixty. I quickly calculate when she would have been born. Maybe she was a teenager in the sixties, when the whole British Invasion thing hit. I wonder if it ever hit Newfoundland. And if it did, was Nanny a Beatles’ fan? Did she actually scream at the TV, watching their famous stint on The Ed Sullivan Show? That’s if they had TV where she lived back then.
The nurse at the emergency desk is happy to see that I’ve come back with someone. I’m sure she thought I was a complete basket case, and that I was just going to run off and abandon Jim to his fate.
She asks Nanny a bunch of questions, ones I couldn’t answer, like Jim’s full name, address and phone number, and date of birth. It seems they couldn’t find his health card in his wallet. “When he comes round, you tell that young man he should carry it at all times, understand?” Nanny just nods. I’m not convinced she understands much of what’s being said to her. When she has to sign the bottom of a form, I hold her wrist to help steady it. It’s like there’s nothing between her skin and the bone, one rubs right up against the other. Her handwriting is so shaky, I can’t make out her last name. If I didn’t already know her first name was Nancy, I wouldn’t recognize that either. I can’t make out the last name, and the nurse doesn’t give me time to look.
“He’s in 564,” the nurse tells us finally. “Take the elevator at the end of the hall, if you can find it.” She stares right at me when she says that, emphasizing how hopeless she thinks I am. Then she flashes Nanny a very wide and comforting smile.
I wonder what the nurse meant by “when Jim comes round.” But at least she didn’t say “if.” Tha
t would be worse. I keep telling myself that, as the elevator takes us up to the fifth floor, stopping on each one to let people on and off. Nanny is leaning against me, as if she would fall without me there to hold her up.
When we enter Jim’s room, another nurse is standing by his bed, taking his temperature. “Oh, hello,” she says. “You’re Jim’s relatives? He’s resting. We gave him something to help him sleep. You can’t stay too long. He’s pretty groggy. The doctor will be along shortly.”
The minute the nurse is gone, Nanny calls out, “Jimmy, my son!” She holds out her arms and approaches his bed. She’s about to touch him when she stops dead. I look down, too, and see why. The whole left side of Jim’s face is bruised and swollen, the colour of rotten cantaloupe. I can’t believe the bruise darkened so fast. I mean, I was in the ambulance with him for twenty minutes. I didn’t notice anything then, except for the swelling.
Nanny plunges right in anyway and hugs him. Jim doesn’t wake up, but I think I notice a slight wince on his face when she touches him. “What in God’s name are you after doing, my son, jumping into the ocean?” Nanny asks.
“I don’t think he can hear you, Nanny,” I say, noticing that Jim is hooked up to an IV tube. His bed is slightly raised, and he’s leaning back on a couple of pillows. “And he didn’t jump into the water. The water jumped out at him.”
“Tell me, Jim, why would you do such a thing? Don’t you know what the water can do?” Nanny is sniffling now. It’s like she didn’t get what I was trying to tell her. I know I have to answer for Jim, to make Nanny understand.
“He was really brave, Nanny,” I say. “He didn’t even hesitate. No one else would go down the rock. You wouldn’t have wanted him to leave the little girl stranded there, would you, Nanny? She was just a young girl … only about eight or nine years old, I think.” I feel a lump forming in my throat when I mention the girl.
Nanny straightens up then and looks at me very closely, as though the whole scenario has finally made sense to her. “A young girl, only nine? My, my, my! The same age as our Joannie, Jim’s younger sister.” Then she looks back down at Jim. “No, you did the right thing, Jim,” Nanny says to him, ruffling up his hair, which is sticking to his forehead, a great deal of pride in her voice. Then she just stares down at Jim for a while. I wonder if she’s thinking about her own husband, lost at sea after the oil rig collapsed into the storm. Maybe she’s wondering what would have happened if someone had been able to rescue him, how different her life would have been. Nanny’s legs give out on her a little, and she leans into the bed railing.
