by Susan Wiggs
“There was a milk tanker stuck in a snowbank, and the tow trucks weren’t having any luck, so your friend’s team of Clydesdales pulled it out. Somebody filmed it on a cell phone and put the video clip up on the Internet, and it went viral.”
“I didn’t realize that,” Caleb said. He had only a vague notion of what a viral video was. The whole process had lasted maybe half a minute. He couldn’t imagine why folks would look at thirty seconds of horses at work.
“You pulled a tanker truck full of milk out of the ditch with your horses?” asked Reese.
“He did indeed.” The woman handed back his license card. “I’m sorry about your brother, too,” she added. “That’s also in the records.”
He put the card back in his wallet. “I appreciate that, miss.”
“You take care,” she said. “No more speeding.”
As he started the engine, Reese sighed and put away the registration papers. “Must be nice.”
“What?”
“Talking your way out of a ticket. I’ve never been able to do that.”
“Seems to me the patrolwoman did most of the talking.”
“She was totally smitten because you hitched up a team of horses and pulled a massive truck out of the snow.” She took out her cell phone and tapped her way through a search. When she found the video, they looked at it together. It was the first time Caleb had ever seen the images. Despite the wildly blowing snow, the picture clearly showed his team pulling the eighteen-wheeler out of the ditch. Though his features were indistinct under his hat and heavy coat, Caleb recognized himself on the buckboard, maneuvering the powerful horses. There was no sound other than the wind and, at the end of the half-minute video, an anonymous person saying, “That’s something you don’t see every day.”
It had been snowing all night and was still coming down thick and hard the next morning. The tanker had come to collect milk from the local farms, which was usually a routine operation. In the foul, icy weather, though, the truck slid off the road, and the tires spun uselessly, digging a trench. Caleb had hitched up his team of four, hook-and-chained the rig to the truck, and the big horses went to work. Within a few seconds, the rig was out, and Caleb discovered he’d made a friend of the grateful driver.
When he finished explaining the circumstances to Reese, she simply looked at him, her mouth in a soft smile. “You never stop surprising me.”
He eased the car out onto the road, thinking that he could say the same of her. The way her mind worked was a surprise—her thoughts about everything from healing to salsa dancing. The words she used were a surprise—the frequent curses at odds with her kindly way with Jonah. The feelings she inspired—now, those were not a surprise. He had trouble keeping his eyes and his mind off her.
The highway brought them across New Jersey’s eastern flatlands, and then to a beach town called Sudbury Park. He got a little nervous negotiating the narrow streets lined with bustling shops and traffic.
“I’m impressed at the way you maneuvered into the parking spot,” she said.
“Guess it comes from dealing with a team of Clydesdales. Seems easy compared to that.”
The air smelled different here. Briny. Tang of salt. These were things he had read about in books, and it turned out they were real.
She opened the trunk and saddled him with towels, a boxed picnic, a cooler of drinks, and some books and magazines. She glanced at her phone screen and then said, “Screw it.” She locked the phone in the trunk. He staggered slightly as they crossed the parking lot and followed a long boardwalk at the edge of the beach.
“I know why you brought me here,” he said. “You need someone to carry all your gear.”
“Ha, guilty as charged. You won’t complain when you see what’s for lunch.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Good. Thanks for helping out, by the way.”
They descended the boardwalk to a long flat stretch of amber-colored sand. Kids ran around laughing and playing in the waves. People of all sizes, shapes, and colors were on the beach, some lying out on towels, some walking along where the waves met the shore, others sitting in groups on blankets and lounge chairs under shade umbrellas.
Caleb stepped onto the sand and took it all in. The smells and sounds. The newness.
Reese led the way to a blue-and-white-striped umbrella stuck in the sand at the edge of the breaking waves. “We can set down here.” She spread a plaid blanket on the sand. An attendant came along and she gave him a fee for the umbrella. Then she organized everything in the patch of shade.
“There,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Our day at the shore can begin. Kick your flip-flops off. That’s always my favorite moment.”
He slipped off the sandals and sank his bare feet into the sand, reveling in the smooth texture of it. “Oh, yeah,” he murmured. “That’s nice.”
“Isn’t it? What would you like to do first? We can take a walk, go for a swim—”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Let’s do that.” He pulled his shirt off over his head and dropped it onto the blanket.
“Keep your trunks on,” she said. “This isn’t Amish country.”
He grinned. “Got it.”
She untied the bow of her flimsy white dress and let it slip to the ground. What she wore beneath took his breath away all over again. It was a tight red suit that hugged her curves like a lover’s hands, outlining a shape he knew would haunt his dreams. On her thigh, just at the outer curve, she had a tattoo—a simple line drawing of a bird.
Caleb’s knees felt weak. And he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stop staring. Several other fellows nearby were checking her out as well. She bent down to grab the sunscreen lotion, giving him an even more enticing glimpse of her backside.
“We both need plenty of this,” she said, slathering her arms, legs, neck, and shoulders. “You do my back and I’ll do yours.” She swiveled around, presenting herself and handing him the plastic bottle.
“Sure, okay.” He squeezed the lotion in a pale line across her shoulders and set the bottle down. Then, with far more pleasure than anyone would deem proper, he ran his hands over her shoulders and down her back, then up again to her neck. Her skin was impossibly smooth and warm from the sun, and he took his time, covering her delicate, silky skin with the lotion. He focused on a curl of dark hair at the nape of her neck, thinking about how small and vulnerable she was. Sometimes it was easy to forget that about Reese.
After a few minutes, she turned so they stood face-to-face, their bare skin touching. “Thanks,” she said in a soft, slightly husky voice. “Now, I’ll do you.”
“I’m all yours,” he said, turning around. He felt a warm coating of lotion. Then her hands glided over his shoulders and back, and he shut his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep from moaning. “I have a confession to make,” he told her.
“What’s that?”
“I’m enjoying this a lot more than I should.”
Her hands slowed but didn’t stop. “I have a confession to make too,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“So am I.”
He stood still while she finished, gritting his teeth as he fought for control. “Now about that swim . . .”
She nodded. “Let’s go.”
The waves rushed up to the shoreline, swamping his bare feet in the swirls of cool water. The ocean was vast, as endless as the sky. He stepped into the surf, and the whole world shifted.
He looked over at Reese and grinned. “Wow.”
She walked backward into the deepening water, and the waves foamed up around her thighs. “You like?”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as he followed her deeper and deeper into the water. “I like,” he agreed.
“I wish I could remember my first time in the ocean,” she said, “but I was too little, and—” A big wave rose up like a giant hand and inundated her. With a squeal, she went under. Then the waves came for him, slapping him backward with unexpect
ed force. The salt water filled his nose and mouth, an elemental sensation flowing through him. He found his footing and pushed himself upright. He spotted Reese nearby, gently treading water, her dark hair sleek and plastered to her head. She was smiling, her face sparkling with beads of moisture.
He found her mesmerizing, and the motion of the waves amazing. The force was muscular in nature, stronger than any man, stronger than willpower.
He took her hands, pulling her toward him. Momentum carried her right up against him. Without a single thought or hesitation, he planted a firm kiss on her mouth. Grabbing a woman and kissing her was the last thing he expected himself to do, and yet the impulse was so swift that it was happening even before he knew what he was doing. It was unlike him. His entire existence since the accident was unlike him.
As a kid, he’d once been swept away by a current he couldn’t fight. John had plucked him out a ways downstream, hollering at him for being an idiot, but all Caleb could do was grin unapologetically. Getting carried away in the white water had been the ride of his life. And this . . . Sweet heaven above. She tasted like the ocean—elemental, unforgettable. He reluctantly lifted his mouth from hers. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for today.”
She gasped and paddled backward. “Um, sure.”
He couldn’t figure out what that reaction meant. Was she startled? Offended? Repulsed? He instantly raised his hands, palms out. “I got carried away. Sorry about that.”
“I’m not sorry,” she said and playfully swam away.
He couldn’t figure that out, either. All women, Amish or English, were a mystery.
He tucked her words away to take out and ponder later. I’m not sorry. They bobbed and floated, and Caleb made a raft of his body, gazing up at the blue sky, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness. Reese showed him ways to catch the incoming waves and body-surf to the shallows. Folks were skimming along with the waves on small rafts Reese said were called boogie boards.
A man and his son, in matching orange swim trunks, were laughing as they raced on their boards, again and again. Caleb wondered what it would have been like to have a father like that, playful and easy, not just allowing enjoyment but seeking it out.
Farther out, a guy on a board, who was harnessed to an arched parachute, went aloft with a yell of excitement. As Caleb looked on, he felt a powerful yearning like an ache in his gut.
“Kiteboarding,” said Reese. “I’ve been meaning to try it.”
“What’s stopping you?” he asked. “I swear, it looks like a dream.”
“Maybe we could try it together sometime,” she said.
He sank a little, realizing “sometime” was not likely to come for them. He could still taste that kiss. It would never leave him.
After a while, she knifed through the water toward him.
“I’m starving,” she said. “You?”
He hesitated, waiting for his brain to catch up to his words. “I can always eat.”
They wrapped themselves in towels and sat together on the blanket. The salt on his skin and hair formed a light dust that felt incredible. Everything about this day felt incredible.
Reese slipped on the white dress and opened the lunchbox. “From the Big Belly Deli,” she said. “You’re going to love their food.”
There were egg salad sandwiches on seedy bread, pickles, and wedges of chilled watermelon. They washed it all down with ice-cold Nehi soda, and then walked across the sand to the boardwalk. There, they found an ice cream truck and treated themselves to dessert.
Licking a chocolate-dipped cone, he leaned against the wooden railing and surveyed the beach. Music, laughter, crying seagulls. Saltwater taffy. Warm sand beneath his feet and a beautiful girl at his side. The smell of ocean air riding a balmy breeze. The way she tasted when he kissed her.
Perfection.
They lazed together on the blanket and he thought about kissing her again. He wondered if he should say something. Turning to her, he placed his hand on her soft thigh.
“Help!” A panicked cry split the air. Caleb jumped up, grabbed Reese’s hand, and pulled her to her feet.
“Looks like something’s wrong over there.” They sprinted across the beach, joining a small knot of people in the shallows.
“My dad’s drowning,” screamed a boy in orange swim trunks, surging into the water. “Out there!”
Caleb and Reese both swam out to a bright blue boogie board that was tethered to a motionless man. Another guy was already there, pulling him toward shore. The man’s skin was blue. He wasn’t breathing. When they got him back to the beach, a woman who must have been his wife crumpled next to him, keening, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God . . .”
“I saw a wave crash over him,” said a swimmer. “He went down headfirst.”
Several people had already called 911. A lifeguard arrived from down the shore with a kit of some sort. “Oh, Jesus,” he said. He looked like a kid, barely older than Hannah.
Reese pushed forward and dropped to her knees beside the man. “I can help,” she said. She checked his airway, then sought a pulse.
Caleb joined her. “She can,” he told the boy. “She’s a doctor.”
“Somebody tell the EMTs there’s no respiration or pulse. Starting CPR,” Reese said. “It’s the only option until they get here.” She pressed her hands rhythmically on the motionless chest, attempting to restart his heart. The boy sobbed hysterically. Without breaking her rhythm, Reese looked up at the lifeguard. “Are you trained in CPR?”
“I am, but I’ve never—”
“Is that a resuscitation mask?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You in the Nike shirt,” she said to a nearby man, “go out to the street so the paramedics can find us.” Reese was soaking wet, her small hands slipping on the man’s chest, but she didn’t pause. Compressions and rescue breaths in an unflagging rhythm. She instructed the lifeguard to help her, but he seemed frozen. Caleb dropped to his knees next to her. “Tell me how to help,” he said.
She showed him what to do and they took turns. The minutes dragged. No one spoke except the boy, who repeated DaddyDaddyDaddy in a mindless string. Some of the bystanders filmed the action on their phones.
“I think we sparked a pulse,” Reese said. She paused and put her ear to the man’s chest. “Yes.” Then the guy spat foamy seawater in a fountain that sprayed the onlookers. He still seemed to be unconscious.
“He’s alive,” someone said. “Check it out. He’s alive.”
“Hand me the mask,” Reese said to the lifeguard.
Several agonizing minutes passed. A flurry of activity on the boardwalk indicated that help had arrived. A crew of EMTs jogged across the beach, laden with a backboard and equipment.
“No peripheral pulse,” Reese said to one of the rescuers. “But he has a heartbeat.”
The EMTs swarmed the guy as she related what she’d done so far.
“Good work,” said a rescuer. “Damn, you saved him. We got this now.”
Reese nodded and staggered backward. Caleb caught her against him. She was shaking, breathing hard. “Hear that?” he said to her. “You did good work. Reese, you saved a life.” He tightened his hold. “You’re doing what you’re meant to be doing, and it’s a privilege to watch you.”
“Caleb kissed me,” Reese told Leroy. She had to tell somebody, and he was her self-appointed best friend.
He froze in the middle of sorting berries from a gorgeous flat of blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries she’d bought at Luigi’s. “I’m . . . sorry?” Leroy said. “Jealous? Shocked? Not sure what you want me to say here.”
“I’m not sure either. Maybe you don’t need to say anything. I just wanted to tell someone.” It was nice, having him as that go-to person in her life, someone with whom she could safely share anything. They’d been across-the-hall neighbors for a good while, yet she was only now getting to know him. And that was her fault, not his. She’d been so focused on work that she’d never bot
hered to make time for anything else—such as that pesky little thing called living.
“And here I thought saving a guy’s life was the biggest thing that happened to you that day,” said Leroy.
“Well, there’s that,” she said. The truth was, she didn’t need to talk about the incident at the shore because her feelings about it were unambiguous. For the first time, she had felt utterly right in her own skin. In the aftermath of the drama, there had been a flurry of attention. Word had gone out via tweets from multiple camera phones. For a good five minutes, she was a star of the Internet—“Med student and her hunky blond boyfriend bring drowning victim back to life.” She’d received several marriage proposals, along with a few lewd comments about the tattoo on her hip.
Her parents, of course, were bursting with pride. It was more than pride, though. It was triumph. Not so much that they had raised a person who knew how to save a human life, but that Reese now had a perfect topic for her residency applications. She was a public relations jewel in the crown of the hospital.
Reese cared about none of these things. She cared that she had been there, fully present, with the knowledge, skills, and nerve to do what needed to be done. Time had stopped for her. She had no thought of anyone or anything but the man on the ground with no pulse or respiration. She would always see his face in her mind. And she would never forget the name of Mr. Roth. Mr. Howard Roth. He’d taken his son to the beach for the afternoon. He was alive—and this had been verified by the first responders to the scene—solely because of Reese.
Yet she could not escape the notion that she was the one being saved. It felt like a kind of salvation.
In the drowning incident, she’d found a private peace. But not in the kiss. All she could think about was the kiss. And her most vivid memory of saving a man’s life was the expression on Caleb’s face when she brought Mr. Roth back to life.
“You just saved a life for the first time,” Leroy said, “and all you can think about is kissing a guy?”
“My feelings about saving Mr. Roth aren’t an issue,” she said. “My feelings about that kiss are . . . confused,” she said, mulling it over for the thousandth time.
