Saving Sam
Lynnette Beers
Regal Crest Books
Copyright © 2019 by Lynnette Beers
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-61929-410-3
eISBN 978-1-61929-411-0
First Edition 2019
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover design by AcornGraphics
Published by:
Regal Crest Enterprises
Find us on the World Wide Web at
http://www.regalcrest.biz
Published in the United States of America
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I would like to thank Regal Crest Enterprises for publishing my novel and especially to Cathy Bryerose for your professional guidance as I navigate my way through the publishing world. To my amazing editors, Patty Schramm and Mary Hettel: I express my gratitude for your expertise and support in the final stages of publication. Especially to Patty, I appreciate your diligence and patience as we worked on final edits. I am grateful also to Ann McMan for creating such an amazing book cover.
I am deeply indebted to my beta readers, Nicole Falconer, Robert Falconer, and Lisa Turnbull. You provided valuable feedback during the revision process. I am especially grateful to Nicole for all the research you provided about law enforcement agencies and protocol and for your feedback as I worked on revisions. In addition, I thank Gus Hernandez and Christina Short for reading the first few chapters of this book and providing input as I proceeded to complete the manuscript. I’m also grateful to Kim Cooper and Christina Short for providing helpful feedback as I did final edits on this book. I also want to recognize the Laguna Beach Marine Safety
Department for all the information your guards provided about lifeguarding and ocean safety.
A special thank you goes out to Manny Pacheco, retired sergeant from the Orange County Sheriff’s Department, for your information on firearms and law enforcement expertise.
Much gratitude goes to Marie Castle and Jay Harris for providing me with details about Southern Mississippi, especially the Covington County area and the Okatoma Creek. If it hadn’t been for Jay, I would have never discovered this creek. Our canoeing adventures years ago led to the original idea for this book.
I’d also like to acknowledge Suki Fisher, Joseph Imperiale, Scott Lindsey, Gordon McAlpine, and the late Peggy Hesketh for their feedback years ago when this novel originally started out as a short story when I was an MFA student at Chapman University.
Special recognition goes to Ellen Bass for your guidance and support. I had no idea that the essay I wrote at Esalen during one of your writing workshops would turn nto the opening scene of this book.
A special shout-out goes to my fellow cycling enthusiasts, Bob Waldren and Margie Woodrich, for your expertise about vintage bikes.
Also, I am deeply indebted to Fonda Ossandon Siering, Maria Rahming, and Karen Sandore—some of the best nurses in the field. Your medical expertise was valuable to me as I wrote and revised this novel.
To my dad, brother, and cousins: I’m thankful for your support and encouragement over the years.
To my circle of close friends: Thank you for your unending support of my writing endeavors. You have reminded me throughout my life to never stop dreaming.
A special thank you goes to my brother Greg—a true biologist at heart and an amazing internet sleuth. I’m grateful for your extensive research about snakes and lizards. Additionally, you were always so great when it came to doing quick factchecks about anything biology related.
Finally, to Kat: Thank you for your continued love and support. I love that you’re by my side as I write and publish my books.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to a fellow novelist,
Peggy Hesketh (1954-2018), who left us far too soon.
You still had so many more stories to tell.
Part I
“We may sink and settle on the waves.
The sea will drum in my ears.
The white petals will be darkened with sea water.
They will float for a moment and then sink.”
~ Virginia Woolf, The Waves
Chapter One
San Diego: Summer 2014
SAM CLEVELAND SPRINTED to the water’s edge, not taking her eyes off the swimmer in the rough surf zone. Shards of mussel shells and small rocks cut her ankles and feet as she trudged through the foam. A woman had been swept into the riptide, her body pushed under by the monstrous waves. Sam secured the fins on her feet and swam toward the breakers. With the strap from the red rescue tube slung over her shoulder and across her chest, she dove straight into the tumbler and kicked as each wave grew in magnitude. The phosphorescent surf pounded the shore as Sam sliced her body through the ferocious waves and neared the swimmer.
The heavy surf from Hurricane Marie this week had depleted much of the sand on shore, resulting in exposed rocks along the coast. The powerful waves had magnified in size as they traveled through the Pacific from Mexico to the beaches in Southern California where they’d reached their peak. The coasts hit hardest were the south-facing ones, such as the beach that Sam guarded today. The red flag atop her lifeguard station quivered in the gusty wind. Tower number seven was Sam’s usual guard duty on Wednesdays throughout the summer, but today’s swell tested her seasoned ability as a San Diego lifeguard.
Closer to the swimmer, Sam scanned the horizon to see the lip of a wave in the distance magnifying in size. Within seconds, it grew to ten feet. Not close enough to the woman to guide her under the monstrous wall of water, Sam dove deep below the surface, emerging on the other side of the wall unscathed. Another one approached as she yelled over the height of the wave, “Dive below as deep as you can! I’m almost there to get you.”
This was the first time in her ten years of lifeguarding that the fierce rip currents and huge waves caused her heart to race, but she kicked harder and dove under the next wall of frothing water. As a fit lifeguard, Sam was all muscle and no fat. Her petite frame gave people the impression that she wasn’t buff enough to haul swimmers from the rough surf, yet with her muscular arms and legs she proved that she was one of the strongest guards in the department.
With all her might, she fought against the heavy surf and swam into the riptide to save this woman. On the other side of the ferocious wave, Sam made it to the distressed swimmer. She secured the soft red rescue tube around the woman’s waist, holding her close as the onslaught of tumultuous surf approached.
“Deep breath,” she yelled and guided her under the water. Sam held the woman’s body below the massive wave for a few seconds then lifted her to the surface. They both gasped for air, only to be faced with another tower of water barreling down on them. Sam moved their bodies under the wave and to the other side of the huge surge of whitewater. The rough surf jostled them as Sam braced herself for more.
“I can’t...catch my breath,” the woman said as her chin dipped under the water. She choked on the saltwater entering her mouth and flailed her arms as she tried to stay afloat.
“I got you. You’re gonna be okay,” Sam said and clung to the woman, keeping her head above water. The power of the wave built in force as it towered over them. Sam filled her lungs with air and dove under as she held the woman, only to emerge on the other side to see another breaker crashing down on them. Bracing herself for the impact, Sam pulled the woman closer. She didn’t let go of h
er as the wave hurled them to the ocean’s floor. After they surfaced, they encountered a third tumbler. The force pummeled them onto a submerged boulder, but Sam kicked with all her might and hauled the woman closer to shore.
“We’re almost back to shore. You’re okay now.” Sam fought against the undertow and pulled the woman closer to safety with each thrust of her fins.
When they reached shallow water, the woman said, “My son...he’s somewhere out here. He’s only nine. He’ll drown out there!”
Sam searched in the distance for any signs of the child. As another set approached, she returned to the raging sea. She pumped her legs through the water and stroked her arms, never taking her eyes off the surface of the ocean. She searched beyond the approaching breaker to see a small head bobbing in the surf. A huge wave towered above the child, the curl of the water about to pull him under.
Sam flipped on her back and kicked even harder to reach the boy. She squinted toward shore to see her two supervisors with their jeep parked in the sand. Relieved that additional guards were here, Sam swam right into a churning wave as she pumped her legs to reach the child.
All in one motion, she looped the rescue tube around his skinny frame and pulled him close to her body. “I’m gonna get you out of this dangerous area, but I need you to do what I tell you, okay? You’re going to be okay, I promise.”
“Where’s my mom?” the kid said, his voice quivering.
“She’s right on shore waiting for you. This tube around your body will keep you afloat as I pull you to shore. We’ve gotta get out of this rough current in between sets, okay?”
The kid scrambled to try and climb atop Sam, his lanky arms and legs flailing in the water. The boy coughed as he gulped seawater. “They taught me in swim class...how to...tread water, but I keep getting pulled under.”
Sam held the boy against her chest. “Relax your body as I get you to shore. When I tell you to kick, you pump your legs like crazy, just like you learned in swim class. For now, I’m gonna hold you as I get us out of this bad area.”
Unable to outswim the next approaching set, Sam clung to the boy and dove under the wave. The rough ocean jostled Sam as she held the child under each tumbler. After the set passed, she kicked through the powerful surf. Her muscles burned with each pump of her legs, but she didn’t let up as she hauled the child closer to shore. Within a couple minutes, Sam brought the boy into calmer waters.
“Okay, buddy, now kick! Let’s see you help us to shore. We’re almost there.”
About waist-deep now, Sam floated in the calmer water and took a deep breath. She held onto the boy while he continued to kick. Sam never let go of him as she kept her eyes on the sea—watchful for more powerful shore breakers. She escorted the boy to shallow water where his mom stood waiting for him. Although safe, terror continued to wash over the kid’s face. On shore, Lieutenant Travis Miller, one of the lifeguard supervisors, retrieved the kid and brought him to dry sand. With her fins dangling from her fingers, Sam searched for anyone else who’d been swept away in the unpredictable surf.
With her legs weak from so many rescues this afternoon, Sam regretted doing that twenty-three-mile ride on the trails yesterday, but the woman she’d started dating last month was as avid a mountain biker as she was. Sam could never say no to a fit, attractive woman—especially someone as into cycling as she was. But it was the hours following that bike ride which exhausted Sam more. Craving sex, Sam hadn’t spent an entire night with a woman since late last year before Annie left her. She had a few one-night stands after the break-up, but nothing more beyond brief sexual encounters and nothing ever leading to a second date. But Kim caught her eye when she’d gone on that ride weeks ago with the Trail Angels. Eight years younger than Sam, Kim had the perfect physique. This young woman aroused Sam in ways she hadn’t felt in years.
“Cleveland!” Sam heard Travis from the tower behind her. “Dispatch says you got a call. Says it’s urgent.”
“Kinda busy here, Miller,” Sam said over her shoulder, only to dive below a wave near shore to yank a young girl back to the sand.
“Says it’s important, a call from home.” Travis, well into his fifties, was more fatherly to Sam than just her supervisor. He was the one who hired her ten years ago, taking her under his wing when she was a young rookie. Without a father since she was twenty, Sam never rejected the kindness from him or his wife.
“Grandma knows I can’t take calls at work.” Sam continued to scan the surf line, wondering why her grandma would call dispatch on what was their most dangerous beach day in years. Because Sam lived right behind her grandparents’ house, she helped care for them, but despite being in their early eighties, her grandparents were active and healthy. Since Grandpa Cleveland had retired at an early age from the police department in Mississippi, he stayed fit once they moved to San Diego. But what sort of urgency could it mean that her grandmother called the main lifeguard station to get in touch with her?
This was a red flag day—the sort of day Sam had hoped for in all her years as a lifeguard. She’d call her grandmother after her shift ended. Up to her thighs now, Sam’s body jostled from the churning water. Another swimmer had been pulled into the riptide, so Sam kicked through the surging waves to reach the woman. It only took a few pumps of her legs to get the woman into shallower water. Sam had hardly been on dry sand all day. The waves had increased in velocity as the afternoon progressed. With this being the peak day of the swell, lifeguards had made well over two hundred rescues already. Sam rescued twenty-six swimmers since she started her shift this morning.
After she brought the swimmer to safety, she stood knee-deep in the water, ready to return to the angry sea at any moment. She scanned each approaching wave, ensuring no one was stuck in the ferocious surf. She noticed three teens tromping through the shallow surf zone and waved her arms in the air. None of them had fins, and they looked like inexperienced ocean swimmers.
“Hey, y’all need to get out of the water. This is a red flag day,” she yelled to the guys. “It’s too dangerous for anyone to be out here. Back to shore!” She ducked under a tumbler then plucked a kid from the churning ocean and carried him to shore. She continued to clear the area until she heard Travis call her once again and approach her in the water.
Travis gripped her shoulder, pulling her to a halt. “Cleveland, you’re done for the day. It was your mom who called. Your brother’s been in an accident, says it’s bad. He’s been rushed to a trauma center, some hospital in Hattiesburg.”
Frozen for a moment, Sam stood in the water as the relief lifeguard dashed past her and into the surf zone. Another huge wave pounded the shore—the impact causing the ground to shake. Robert had been in an accident? Rushed to a trauma center? Taking one more glance behind her at the raging sea, she ran to her lifeguard station to retrieve her things, her thoughts now consumed with what could have happened to her big brother.
Chapter Two
Mississippi: Summer 2014
SAM WIPED THE sweat from her face after her quick jaunt across the parking lot to the hospital entrance and up the stairs to the second floor. A level two trauma center, Forrest General Hospital was the best place for Robert in all of Southern Mississippi. Alone in the hallway, Sam paced down the corridor and waited for the nurse to open the door to the ICU. With the fluorescent lights and white walls too bright at this early hour, Sam shaded her eyes as she waited in the long hall. Although she took a Xanax on the flight, she didn’t sleep more than a few minutes shortly before landing. She always kept a fresh prescription on hand, but she rarely needed these pills since she’d moved to San Diego. She was lucky to have made it to the airport in time to catch the redeye, but she now felt the effects of the anti-anxiety meds and lack of sleep.
Once the nurse opened the door, Sam entered the ICU and rounded the corner toward Robert’s room. She observed other patients in grave condition, hooked up to monitors displaying their vitals. Her experience as an EMT exposed her to horrific accidents
and even, on occasion, patients dying in front of her. But nothing she’d seen could prepare her for this: her unconscious brother hooked up to tubes and leads, the monitors next to him flashing and displaying his vitals. She noticed that the ventilator was doing all the work, that Robert was not breathing on his own. Pale, wounded, and bandaged, Robert no longer looked like her robust brother—the one who’d always protected her when she was a child. A thick plastic tube ran from his mouth to a ventilator next to the bed. Sam stepped closer to the bed, noticing the gentle rise of Robert’s chest as the machine breathed for him.
“Hi, Mama,” Sam said and approached the chair where her mother sat. Relieved to have her mom here with her, Sam’s eyes filled with tears as she once again glanced at Robert.
“Honey, I’m glad you got here so fast.” Jane Cleveland pushed herself up from the chair next to the bed. Jane’s plump arms pulled her close, the hug causing Sam to get more teary. She hadn’t seen her mother for several months, and so her embrace felt comforting and familiar. A nurse with many years of experience in trauma and emergency, Jane hadn’t told Sam anything specific yesterday regarding Robert’s medical condition or his prognosis—only that the doctors were still assessing his injuries.
Sam broke away from the hug and stood at the side of the bed and cupped her hand over Robert’s. She recognized that he was barely alive, that the medications were keeping him in a heavily sedated state. His face lacked color, except for the bruising under his right eye and the abrasions on his forehead. The breathing machine and monitors reminded Sam of when her dad was in ICU ten years ago after his first heart attack. Overhead, a glaring fluorescent light shone on Robert’s motionless body. Through the window, Sam saw the nurse’s station and observed medical personnel bustling in and out of the surrounding rooms.
Saving Sam Page 1
