by Karen M Cox
James signaled to ask her whether the speed was okay. Faster! she gestured, and John increased his speed accordingly. She was doing well and started to swing out over the wake, but she hesitated and drifted back behind the boat. She gestured again — Faster!
“She wants me to go faster?” John asked, incredulous.
“She just thinks she does.” James shook his head no, but Heather insisted, signaling again — Faster!
James rolled his eyes. “Fine! Speed up.”
John tossed him a wary look. “I don’t know, James.”
“That’s what she wants; let her have it.”
John bumped up his speed, and Laurel turned back from her spotting post. “Maybe you should slow down, John,” she shouted over the whine of the boat motor.
James shrugged. “She said she wanted to go faster.”
Laurel turned back around and resumed watching Heather, who responded by giving the okay signal. She was growing braver by the minute, moving from side to side, and expertly jumped the wake. As she picked up momentum and swung around almost beside the boat, Laurel scanned ahead of her for debris in the water that John, who was concentrating on driving, might miss. Suddenly, Heather swept back across the wake, racing to the opposite side.
Laurel saw the log, but her shout of warning was a second too late. She whirled around to get Heather’s attention, but her frantic gestures were futile. Heather never heard her or saw it coming. The next few seconds went by in sickening, slow motion. Heather hit the log and catapulted into the air, the rope flying out beside her. She crashed onto the surface of the water and somersaulted end-over-end as Laurel watched in horror. Then, with a terrific spray of blue-green water, she disappeared. When she resurfaced a few seconds later, time resumed its normal pace, and Laurel’s senses returned. She could hear James shouting at John to turn back. Carrie was screaming. John whipped the boat around and raced back to Heather, reducing speed as they approached her. She was face down in the water, limp and unmoving. When they were close enough, Laurel dove into the water without a second thought, turned Heather over and shouted back, “Someone help me! Hurry! She’s out cold; come help me!”
It was James who dove in and was beside them in a matter of seconds. They kept shouting to her to wake up even as they pulled her toward the boat. Carrie stood with her hands over her mouth, crying in silence. John killed the motor and helped them gently lift her up over the side and lay her flat. Thankful that her dad insisted they all keep their Red Cross training current, Laurel dug deep in her memory and went through the CPR assessment. “Heather, Heather, wake up!” She bent down and listened for breath. “She’s not breathing, but maybe the wind’s just knocked out of her or something.” She gave two rescue breaths.
“Jesus Christ, look at her foot!” James’s voice was low, but his face was pale and his eyes wide with fright. Heather’s foot jutted out at an unnatural angle.
“Never mind that. We’ve got to get her conscious first,” Laurel insisted. James moved up to do two man CPR.
“No,” she ordered in a calm but firm voice. “Does John know CPR?”
“I don’t know,” James answered, momentarily confused. “John?”
“Yeah!” John jumped up.
“Good. John, you help me. James, you know the lake better, so you drive. You remember Carter’s Ford dock — where it is?”
“Just up on the left, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Get us there. They’ve got a phone.”
The men switched places. Laurel was concentrating, her fingers on Heather’s wrist. “I’m getting a pulse; we won’t need compressions.” Carrie let out a sob.
Laurel gave another rescue breath, and there was a convulsive cough. They rolled Heather to her side and water leaked out her mouth.
“That’s good,” Laurel muttered. “She’s breathing now.” She heaved a sigh of relief.
“Almost there,” James shouted from the front. As they approached the dock, John took the wheel while James leapt out and took off toward the building about halfway up the hill. John and Carrie held the boat next to the dock while Laurel continued to monitor Heather for any change. She was breathing but still unconscious. Laurel didn’t dare move her for fear of doing more damage.
James ran back down the dock. “The ambulance is on its way. How is she?”
“No change,” Laurel replied.
John’s calm voice soothed Laurel’s jagged nerves. “You’re right to move her as little as possible. It’s best to let the professionals do that.”
After the ambulance arrived, Laurel and Carrie stepped back out of the way to let the EMTs tend to Heather. Laurel stood watching for a few seconds, her arm around a shaking Carrie, and then turned around to find James pacing back and forth in agitation, muttering to himself, a furious scowl on his face.
Laurel hesitated, but then she approached him, touching him on the arm.
“James, we need to find Stu.”
“What was she thinking?” his voice rough with anguish. “How could she be so careless? She hadn’t been skiing in years!”
“She just didn’t have enough experience to dodge the log, or she saw it too late.”
“I shouldn’t have let her go so fast. I shouldn’t have encouraged her.”
“James, it was an accident. It’s not your fault.”
He shook his head and swore.
“We need to find Ginny and Stu,” she repeated. “Can you take the boat back and look for them?”
A burly EMT with a handlebar moustache approached them. “Ma’am, she’s set to go. She’s stable, and we’ve got the foot immobilized, but she might have a concussion from hitting the water so hard. Who’s going with her to the hospital?”
“Well, that’s her sister over there . . . ” Laurel began.
James interrupted. “No, Laurel, you’re going with her. Carrie’s too upset to answer questions or anything.” He looked at the EMT and said with confidence, “Laurel will know what to do.”
Laurel glanced up at James in surprise. He looked back at her with a grim intensity. “I’ll take John and Carrie, and we’ll find the houseboat. We’ll meet up with you at the hospital as soon as we can get there, okay?”
She nodded.
“Take care of her.” James touched her arm, slid his hand down to hers, and squeezed it gently. “See you soon.”
Chapter 20
Once at the hospital, Laurel ended up with little to do besides wait for Heather’s family. The ER nurse asked her a few questions about Heather’s medical history, most of which she didn’t know, and about whether she was allergic to anything, which she also didn’t know. She sat in the ER waiting room for what seemed like hours until Stuart and Virginia arrived, followed by Carrie and James.
Stuart rushed toward Laurel, worry covering his handsome face. “Where is she? How is she?”
“They took her into surgery a while ago. Her ankle’s broken, and they’ve called in an orthopedist to set it. She also has a concussion, but even though she was still unconscious when we got here, they said there’s no reason to suspect a more serious head injury.”
Stuart closed his eyes in relief, and Virginia put her arm around him. Carrie exclaimed, “Thank God!” and threw her arms around the two of them. James stood back, watching Laurel with a strange expression: a mixture of awe, admiration and discomfort.
When the surgeon came out, he talked to Stuart, Virginia and Carrie and then led them back to see their sister in the recovery room. James and Laurel stood, alternately glancing at each other and then looking away in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Laurel sat back down. After several minutes, Virginia came out.
“How is she?” James asked.
“As well as can be expected. Stu and Carrie are going to stay for a while, probably overnight. Their parents are in Greece, so I’m going to call them tonight when I get home and tell them what happened. I don’t know if they can get back very fast though.
“James, can you take me home? I’m going t
o leave them the car and get some rest tonight. Stu is worried about me.” She smiled, but her expression was weary. “I assured him I’m fine, but maybe this is best anyway. He and Carrie will be exhausted tomorrow morning, and I can come back and take a turn with her while they rest. I have a feeling that’s what we’ll be doing for the next few days.”
“Of course.” He turned to Laurel. “I assume you want to go home as well?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind the longer drive.”
“Not at all.”
They rode home in virtual silence until Virginia broke the quiet.
“Carrie told me everything you did to help Heather today, Laurel. I’m so glad you were there.”
“I was more than happy to help, of course, but I don’t think I did that much.”
James looked at her in his rearview mirror. “How can you say that? You had the coolest head of all of us.”
“We grew up on the lake, and sometimes emergencies happened. I guess I just kind of went on autopilot. Ginny would have done the same.”
“I overheard Stuart talking to the doctor who admitted her. He said probably the most dangerous time was when we first pulled her out and she wasn’t breathing. It would have been so easy for her to go into respiratory arrest, and then we might have lost her.” His voice cracked a little. “You saved her life, Laurel.”
Virginia reached back for Laurel’s hand and smiled at her as she gave it a gentle squeeze. They continued riding in silence until they reached Pendleton Place.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Virginia asked as the car pulled to a stop.
“I remember the way, and you need to rest,” James answered. “But thanks anyway.”
Laurel moved up to the passenger seat, feeling as if she could cut the tension in the car with a knife, but she had no idea what to say to make it better, so she said nothing. James waited until Virginia was inside the house before backing out of the driveway.
He drove without speaking, glancing at her every once in a while. Laurel stared straight ahead.
“It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?” he finally ventured.
She sighed. “Yes, one I wouldn’t want to repeat — ever.”
“I keep waiting for you to have some kind of little break down, tears, angry words, something— but I don’t guess you will, huh?”
She looked at him. How could she tell him that she had to hold her emotions tightly when he was around — that there was no way she could let her guard down even in a situation like this?
“What would be the point of that?”
“What indeed,” he muttered to himself.
Laurel felt exhaustion creeping over her. The idea of a hot shower to wash off the hospital smell and the lake, followed by falling into bed, sounded more appealing by the minute.
“You’ll have to help me find the turn off in the dark.”
“Oh, okay. It’s just a couple miles ahead — on the right.” After a few more minutes, she pointed. “Right here — see the reflector?”
“Yep.” He turned in and began ascending the long slope up to the cabin. When the car popped over the hill and her house came into view, he remarked, “It doesn’t look much different.”
“I didn’t do too much to the outside— new paint, a new roof, a new deck. The inside is where the biggest change is.”
“You must be doing well with your pottery to afford remodeling.”
“Oh, I get by. I’ve been renovating on a shoestring. Dad helps quite a bit. He knows a lot of people and gets me labor and materials for a very reasonable cost.”
“I see.”
“And Dylan and Crosby help too. Dylan did all the wiring.” They were getting close to the cabin, and in a rush she asked, “Hey, do you want a cup of coffee or something?” She had no idea what she was thinking, except, all of a sudden, she didn’t feel like being alone.
“Sure.” His answer was quick, making her suspect he felt the same way.
Laurel shuffled up the porch steps, fishing in her bag for her keys. A couple of steps behind her, James caught up while she fumbled with the lock. He held the screen door open while she forced the key to turn. The door opened so unexpectedly, she nearly stumbled over the threshold. He reached out to steady her at the elbow.
“Okay there?”
“Yes, thanks,” she mumbled. He left his hand on her arm for longer than he needed to, and her skin burned where he touched her. She tossed her things on the couch and headed for the kitchen, turning on lights as she went. She heard his keys drop on the end table by the door, and then he was in the kitchen with her, just standing there as if he didn’t know what to do next.
She got out a couple of coffee mugs and pulled out the teakettle. “I hope instant is okay. I don’t have a coffee maker because — ”
“Because you don’t drink much coffee,” he finished for her.
She smiled at him and crossed the room to the pantry door, standing on tiptoe to reach the jar of coffee at the back of the top shelf. She froze when she realized James was close behind her, his voice bathing her in warmth as he offered, “Here, let me get that.”
He leaned one hand on the door frame above her head, and she thought he would reach to get the coffee with the other, but . . .
His hand touched her shoulder and slid in a sinuous motion down her arm to her hand. He was close behind her now, so close she could feel his breath on her neck and the heat emanating from his body. He whispered her name, and she turned as if in slow motion. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow and sweet at first, like honey, and as he pulled back, she opened her eyes. Her hand came up to caress his face and his eyes closed. Suddenly they popped open again, green like the trees that lined the lake, and then he yanked her toward him, covering her mouth in a fierce kiss that took her completely by surprise. He pressed against her and she could feel the hard planes of his body — well, everywhere.
He murmured her name between kisses, reverently — as if he were praying it.
“Laurel,” he breathed. “Laurel.”
“Sweet.” His lips traveled to her jaw, then to her neck. “Beautiful.” She braced herself in the door frame to keep him from pushing her into the pantry. “Want . . . ” he panted, “want so much . . . ” He kissed her again and she whimpered — a stunned, vulnerable sound. She was defenseless against her long-buried feelings for him, but when her voice penetrated his foggy mind, he froze. He pulled back, and with his eyes still closed, he groaned in frustration and slammed his palm against the door. The blow reverberated through the walls. She didn’t dare move.
“Damn it!” He turned his back on her and ran his hand over his face in consternation. “God, Laurel . . . I didn’t mean . . . I’m sorry.” Without looking at her, he stalked out of the kitchen. The front door slammed, and the car motor roared as he sped away. Sliding down the wall, Laurel hugged herself into a little ball and buried her head in her arms. The knot inside her started loosening, and after that, her defenses unraveled at a frightening speed. Only then, did the sobs finally come.
* * *
The next morning, Laurel groaned and rolled toward the edge of the bed, pulled up and looked at the clock. Then she groaned again and fell back on her pillow. She dragged herself to the bathroom and showered. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her face felt tight and stretched. Brittle and fragile, she felt as if she might shatter into a million pieces and simply drift away. She had no idea what she should be feeling, so instead, numbness prevailed.
Over tea and toast though, rational thinking began to seep in little by little. She replayed the previous night’s events in her mind, looking at them from every possible perspective. She and James had both been exhausted, physically and emotionally, and Heather’s accident had been a visceral reminder of life’s fragility. So they had sought each other’s company — old friends, old comforts; that made sense. That must have been why she invited him in. But then he kissed her, and
oh, what a kiss it was! It felt like she was leaving her body and floating when he held her. And he whispered her name and called her beautiful and sweet. She could hear the words, and then “want . . . want . . . ” It had made her roar to life inside her lower belly. Yes, she thought, I want too. But then he left. Why? Was he feeling guilty because Heather was lying in a hospital bed while he was locking lips with her? Could there be something between him and Heather? As far as she knew, he’d never asked out either of the Pendleton girls, in spite of the fact that he’d been there almost a month and they had flirted with him almost nonstop. But neither could she deny he’d acted interested at times. And the way he reacted to Heather’s accident — how he blamed himself and had grown pale when he recounted how they might have lost her . . .
Or was she reading too much into it? She considered her own history with James. Never had he given her mixed signals back when they were together. She always knew what he wanted from her because he was bluntly obvious about it. But years had passed, and they’d both changed, and now she was having trouble reading him. Why had he stormed out without talking to her? Did he think she didn’t want him? Despite her recent attempts to convince herself otherwise, she realized now she’d always wanted him. Even though she wasn’t ready to upend her whole life and go with him all those years ago, it didn’t mean her feelings changed. After all that time, nothing had changed. It was so sad — pathetic. Oh, how she regretted that she’d found the love of her life when she was eighteen and didn’t have the discernment to realize it! And what now? Was it really too late?
She replayed the previous night one more time. She hadn’t exactly welcomed his advances with open arms. She was too exhausted, too shocked to respond the way she wanted with proper and genuine feeling. With sudden realization, she nearly dropped her mug. He must have thought I didn’t want him to kiss me. That’s why he said, ‘I’m sorry.’ Well, she damn sure wasn’t sorry, and she was going to make sure he knew it too! She left her breakfast on the table and practically ran out the door, pausing only to grab the keys to her Jeep.