I’m still hearing the chorus of that kick-ass anthem rock through my skull as I slide my damp jeans down my legs. I whip off my shoes and throw them up onto the porch. I keep picturing the bay, the space between this peninsula and the mainland. I wonder how far the flooding extends. There’s a cluster of houses at the turn to the camp off Route 54. If we can just make it there. We’re going to be freezing and half-naked, but if one of them has a landline or cell reception, we’ll be golden. It can’t be any more than a half mile. A half mile is nothing. I can swim that in the pool in 10-12 minutes, so I’m hoping it won’t take me any longer than 15-20 in the open water.
“Let’s do this,” I push out from between clenched teeth, my bare feet planted in the frigid water, my body only covered in my purple boyshorts with hot pink polka dots and my matching hot pink sports bra.
Chris and Drew both whip around. Naturally, Chris’s eyes go straight to my chest. Typical male. Guess I can’t fault him for that. Then his gaze trails down to my stomach and specifically to my hip, where a six-inch scar with ugly, purplish raised striations decorates my flesh. I see the smile that was spreading his lips slowly fade as he processes it.
Well, that’s it. He’s probably no longer interested in me.
I’ve had more than one guy freak out when he’s seen it. That’s why I typically don’t let my boyfriends see me naked until the last possible moment, and even then, I strongly prefer being in the dark.
But you know what? It doesn’t matter what he thinks at this moment. That scar isn’t going anywhere, and neither is Mrs. Wilson if I don’t move my ass.
“What happened to you?” he breathes out, his eyes still glued to it.
I wave him off. “No time now. Drew, tell everyone we’re sending help as soon as we can.”
I feel a surge of adrenaline spray out into my bloodstream as I run into the faintly fish-smelling water, then spread my body out flat on top of the current. I do a frog kick and a few strokes of breaststroke while I wait to see if Chris follows me.
“Just tell me how you got it,” he shouts, catching up to me.
I don’t want to think about that right now. I have to clear my mind and focus on the task ahead of me. The water is ice cold. I feel like I’ve jumped into the Arctic Ocean, even though I know it’s gotta be at least fifty degrees. You can swim in water this cold for a few hours, and we only need around fifteen minutes.
He’s right beside me, so close, I swear he just accidentally kicked me. It better have been him. Don’t flashback, I beg my brain. Don’t flashback.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I shout, treading water for a second.
He reaches toward me.
“Don’t touch me! Just keep swimming!”
I put my face back in the water, hoping he will follow my lead and do the same. I can’t do this if he’s going to annoy the crap out of me. I should have insisted he stay behind. Then he wouldn’t have seen the scar. And he wouldn’t want to know why my heart feels like it’s about to explode, and it has nothing to do with the effort I’m putting into swimming.
I start up my freestyle, trying to conserve my energy for when I can see the shore. Right now there’s a thick fog lying right on top of the water. Not being able to see makes this about 100% worse. My legs are kicking so fast, I hope I can scare whatever might be in this water with me. But I know I have a ways to go, and I can’t burn up all my endurance in the first few minutes.
I look behind me and can still see the buildings on the peninsula, so we haven’t gone that far yet. When I take a breath, I glance over to my right and see the tops of the light posts that line that bridge. Those posts have to be at least ten or twelve feet tall, and only the lanterns are visible. But at least I can see where the bridge is. Otherwise, I’d have no idea.
Just keep swimming.
My limbs feel numb as we pass the bridge. I know that means we’re probably halfway to where the land usually lies, but who knows how flooded Fenwick is. The road we turn off to get to Ben’s camp is built up pretty high. I am not really a spiritual person, but I’m praying my heart out that the road is passable and the houses nearby are not flooded. We need those people to be home and have a working telephone, or we’re screwed. We aren’t wearing clothes or shoes. We aren’t going to be able to go far once we get on land.
Just breathe. Stay calm.
In a flash, this tidal wave of reality breaks over my head. Figuratively, I mean. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Chris is sputtering along beside me, taking more frequent breaths than I am. He’s not as strong of a swimmer as me, so now I feel like I have to slow down and stick to his pace. The last thing I want is for something to happen to him. I would feel terrible. I told him not to come— It’s just like a man to think he is the one protecting me when it turns out he’s the one who needs protecting.
At this point, my limbs are so frozen, if something did bump into me, I probably wouldn’t even know. The water is burning my face. I feel it so deep inside me, I swear my lungs have little icicles hanging off them. Why couldn’t Sonnet and Drew have gotten married in August? It would at least be a little more bearable.
Just keep stroking through the water, kicking, pushing yourself, Brynne. You can do this. I flash back to swim meets in high school where I eyed my competitors through thick prescription-lensed goggles. I remember willing myself to push harder, move faster. Reaching deep within me to find the extra oomph I needed to sail past the other swimmers vying for victory. And today all I need is to reach the land that’s maybe three hundred yards in front of me. I can’t tell where the water is, but I see trees, and those are the most beautiful trees I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
My contacts are all dried out and stuck to my eyes. I stop for a second to look behind me, trying to find Chris. It takes a moment for my vision to adjust to the range of water in front of me; they’ve gotten too accustomed to scanning for land in the distance. I see him several yards back, his skin red from the cold water.
“Come on, Everson! Come on, you got this!” I shout out over the rolling waves. The closer we get to shore, the more they are rolling over us. I’ve already taken a few mouthfuls of water, and I end up choking down another when a wave crests just as I finish showering him with encouragement.
“I’m coming!” he gurgles out, picking up his pace. His stroke is forceful, arms pounding into the water. If he’d just smooth that stroke out, he would expend a lot less energy. But now isn’t the time for a swimming lesson.
“We’re almost there!” I yell before starting my stroke up again. I know it’s only been ten minutes or so, but it feels like I’ve been in this vast, frozen pool for hours. Then I realize what is happening in front of me, just past the trees that are growing in size the closer we get to land.
The sky has exploded in pastel fireworks of peach, pink and mauve as the sun emerges from its dark cocoon and begins to spread its luminous magic in broad brush strokes across the canvas before us. The sun is actually rising! It’s piercing through those gray layers, which are scattering to the north and south, and it’s calling us to it, calling us home.
I’m filled with a renewed surge of energy, of determination as my arms fly in and out of the water, and my legs propel me as though they’re gas-fueled. Chris catches up with me, also finding his second wind, and we cruise toward the shore until we reach the embankment where the roads meet, which is just above the water. Typically it’s probably eight feet up, but not today. I pull my body out of the churning water, which is rhythmically lapping against the pavement, until my bare feet touch the blacktop of Route 54. Chris is right behind me.
My skin is angry and red, and my scar is so dark, it’s almost burgundy. I wrap my arms around myself and look off toward the row of houses with water up to their porches. “Come on!” I yell as Chris shakes the water from his body.
We make it the fifty yards or so on foot to the nearest house, rushing up on the porch rather obnoxiously considering it’s not even 7 AM. I pound fu
riously on the door—forget a doorbell—and quickly detect thundering footsteps approaching. We’re still catching our breaths when the door flies open, and a bewildered woman in her early sixties wearing only a bathrobe answers.
“Do you have a working phone?” Chris shouts before I can even process the words.
“Yes, what’s going on?”
“Chris Everson, State Police, and this is Dr. Brynne Miller. There’s a group of people stranded out there on the peninsula and we need to call 9-1-1 immediately,” he explains way more calmly than I could even dream of saying myself.
“Right this way,” the woman remarks, leading us into her kitchen where she points a long, bony finger at an old-fashioned house phone attached to the wall next to the cabinets.
“Perfect!” I shout as Chris grabs the receiver and punches in the numbers.
I realize I’m still shaking, not to mention dripping water all over this poor woman’s floor. She’s definitely surprised but handling the craziness remarkably well. “Let me get you both some towels,” she says before rushing off down the hall.
I hear Chris go into work mode, giving the dispatcher all the information they need to take care of Mrs. Wilson first, then the rest of the wedding party and guests who will need to be rescued as well. The woman comes back into the kitchen carrying a stack of towels taller than her head.
I chuckle as I wrap one around myself. I’ve never been so happy to see a towel in my entire life. I take another and put it under my feet to wipe up the water I’ve dripped everywhere. Chris finishes his phone call and hangs the receiver back on its base, a look of pure relief spreading itself across his handsome but waterlogged face.
“I can’t believe we just did that!” he breathes out. “I’m so sorry for intruding, ma’am. But you may have just helped save a life. Maybe more than one life!”
“Well, it’s my pleasure! What can I get you two?” she asks, and I suddenly realize I should call my brother.
“Just one more phone call, please, Ms.—”
“My name is Victoria Wilson, but my friends all call me Vicki,” she says with a proud smile on her face.
I immediately burst into laughter.
“What?” She glances from me to Chris and back again, confusion twisting her features. “Is there something funny about that?”
“It’s just—” I look at Chris, and he knows exactly what I’m thinking. She has the exact same name as Sonnet’s grandmother. Hurricane Victoria just got saved by Angel Vicki.
He tries to explain it to her as I grab the phone again and dial Ben’s cell number. Boy, I’m glad I know it by heart since I don’t have my own cell phone with me. It rings about five times, and with every ring, I grow a little more panicked.
“Hello?” Jamie answers. “Who is this?”
“Don’t hang up, it’s Brynne!” I shout, realizing the number is unfamiliar. “I finally got access to a phone. What’s going on?”
“How was the wedding?” she questions like it’s just a routine phone call.
I ignore the question and go straight to my niece. “How is Harmony?”
“Oh, she’s much better now,” Jamie answers with relief in her tone. “She is still asleep, thank goodness. We finally got some Pedialyte in her, and it stayed down. How come you never answered Ben’s calls last night? Having too much fun at the wedding?”
I shake my head. If she only knew. “Can you put my brother on real quick? I need a favor…”
It’s only a few seconds before Ben’s deep voice sounds down the line. “Is everything okay?”
I pause for a second, trying to decide how much to tell him over the phone. I don’t think he’s going to be too pleased to hear that half of his camp is underwater. Okay, maybe not half, but there’s definitely some damage to the equipment barn. “Uh, not exactly.”
“What’s going on?” It’s amazing how quickly his voice transforms into worried mode.
“Well…I’m standing half-naked in some stranger’s kitchen because the bridge to your camp is flooded, and we haven’t had any cell service since early yesterday evening.”
“What? Oh my god, Brynne! Where are you?” He went from worried to outright panic in about a millisecond.
“I’m at the two-story white house that’s right on the corner of 54 and Owl Neck Road. Nice lady named Vicki taking care of me. I don’t have any clothes, though.”
“What? Why not?”
“I swam over here!”
“What? Are you serious? Even though—” his voice trails off.
“Even though,” I answer, and I’m as incredulous as he is.
“Wait right there. I’m going to come pick you up.”
He hangs up the phone before I can utter another word. I’m sure he’s going to want to get over to his camp to survey the damage as soon as he can, but I don’t know how we’d get out there if not by boat.
Just then, I hear a horn bleating in the distance. Chris runs to the front door, then jogs back. “My ride is here.”
“Ride?” I whip my head to look at him. He’s only got a towel wrapped around him, and his skin is finally starting to look normal again. His hair is wet; his hazel eyes are gleaming with exertion.
“DSP’s marine unit. We’re going back over there. And the Coast Guard is sending a 24-foot rescue boat. And they’re going to med-evac Mrs. Wilson.”
“Wow, okay.” My eyes are glazed over at the thought of all that. “I guess I’m going to wait for my brother, but—”
“But you feel like you should go back to help rescue?” He looks at me through kind eyes, still sparkling even through his exhaustion. “Brynne, what you did is incredible. You’re such a strong swimmer. I could barely keep up with you. I would have never made it if not for you.”
Just when I thought my skin was starting to lose its redness from the chilly water, I feel my cheeks begin to blush. “Thanks. Well, like you said earlier, we make a good team.”
He opens Vicki’s front door, and I follow him out onto the porch. “So you never told me what that nasty scar is from. Looks like whatever happened really hurt…”
I don’t think he means nasty in a gross or unattractive way, but I can’t help but feel a sharp pang in my gut, worrying that whatever had blossomed between us may have shriveled up already. I shouldn’t have been hoping for anything, I remind myself. My days of dating cops are over.
“You still don’t want to tell me?” His eyes bore into mine so uncomfortably, I feel like he can see through this towel wrapped around me, straight into my soul. Then his eyes brighten as a grin spreads across his lips. “This is it, right? The mysterious secret I promised to unearth…”
“When I was nine, I was on vacation in Florida with my family,” I tell him. “I had just really gotten good at swimming, and I went out a little too far. Something bumped up against me and pulled me under the water.”
As I speak, his eyes widen a little more with every word.
“I was attacked by a shark,” I tell him. “Not a huge one. Like four or five feet probably. I almost bled out on the beach. It was really close to my femoral artery. I got staples and stitches. I remember being afraid I’d never walk again—and I definitely knew I’d never set foot in the ocean again.”
“So that’s why you hesitated…”
I nod as the full realization of what I accomplished dawns on me. I conquered my fear. I did what I thought was impossible.
The police boat honks its horn again, and Chris waves at them without breaking his missile lock on my eyes. “I don’t even know what to say, Brynne. That’s amazing. Truly amazing.”
I shrug. “Just doing my job.”
“I better go do mine too…” His voice trails off.
“I’ll see you around,” I call after him as he turns to go. As soon as he’s made his way down the steps of the porch, I instantly wish I’d been able to kiss him goodbye. But maybe he doesn’t want a kiss? Maybe all of the magic we had was washed away on our swim.
Twenty-On
e
The helicopter is lifting off when we arrive by boat. The wind it’s whipping up sends a chill down my spine. I’m still wearing my boxer briefs and the towel. I don’t think the guys in the marine unit have shut up about my half-naked state the whole way over here.
I watch the entire wedding party and all the guests make their way outside to greet us when we come ashore, then I step through the knee-deep water, trying not to get my towel wet. I sure hope my clothes are still dry. Everyone is shouting, whooping and hollering, despite looking pretty haggard in their wrinkled dress clothes. I think we’ve all had a rough night, but the way everyone’s smiling, it looks like they’ve gotten their second or third wind.
“You made it!” Drew bellows across the parking lot, which now has at least a few inches of water in it. The gravel is cutting into my feet, but they’re so numb from the cold, I barely feel it. I bound up onto the porch, and Drew throws his arms around me. I didn’t think he’d want to bro-hug me when I’m half-naked, but I was clearly mistaken.
“Where’s Brynne?” Sonnet questions.
“Where are my clothes?” is my immediate response.
Drew hands me my pants, which I slide on gratefully. “Brynne’s brother was going to pick her up. She wants to check on her niece, who’s been sick.”
“Oh no! I hope she’s okay,” Sonnet replies.
Just in the two minutes I’ve been back on the island, I miss Brynne’s presence. There’s just something about her. It feels wrong for her not to be here with us. I keep expecting her to come out of the cabin or around the corner and need to keep reminding myself she’s not here.
“Did your grandma make it out okay?” I ask Sonnet. “I saw the helicopter.”
Badge Bunny Page 20
