by Angela Ruth
How could he get out? Move forward? He had to get to Emily. She’d never forgive him if he killed himself in an attempt to stop her from leaving.
“Lord save me!” he gurgled.
Where had he heard those words before? Who else had called for the Lord to save him? Whoever it was must have been at the brink of death, trapped in a storm of his own making. Did that person get an answer from the Lord? Because Tracen still felt helpless and on his own.
At least the raft hadn’t capsized yet. And he had his oar. Gripping tighter with his left hand, he let go with his right, praying the water didn’t snatch the paddle from his grip. With his right hand, he resisted the river’s control long enough to reach down and grip the rope that encircled the raft through connected tabs. If he could just hang on, he might be able to push to the side of the rock.
Rock. It was Peter, named after a rock, who had cried out to the Lord to save him. Peter had stepped out of the boat to walk on water.
Only last weekend, Tracen read the passage with Emily. He knew that Jesus saved Peter.
And Tracen had been like Peter in his relationship with Emily. He’d made the choice to step off the boat—to date her—but when the waves came, he got scared and sank.
No more. With renewed strength, Tracen shoved his raft parallel to the boulder. It would take another shove. And another. Slow, painful process. But he had hope. Yes, his hope had returned.
He might not feel God’s presence, but he had the words of Jesus to reassure himself. “You of little faith…why did you doubt?”
The raft bounced, rocked against the edge like a teeter-totter, then shot forward, bringing a rush of wind and a sense of soaring. Tracen held his oar overhead, lifting his hands to his Savior in worship.
“Woo-hoo!”
The next drop tickled his tummy, jarred his teeth, and forced him to refocus on his surroundings. But he’d left his fear back at the rock. He could do this.
Emily shaded her eyes from the sun as the plane tilted upward in takeoff. Wobbling side to side like a toddler learning to walk, the craft made its way into the air.
Emily dropped her hand and gripped the seat, closing her eyes against the momentary brilliance. Sunglasses would have helped. At least she didn’t need them as much as Tracen did.
Tracen. She was thinking of him again, though she’d promised not to. But at least it was a distraction from the nausea that swam in her stomach.
“You can open your eyes, Emily,” Matt teased over the hum of the engine. “We’re up.”
Emily pried her eyes open. Blue sky. She loosened her grip on the seat and turned to look out her passenger window.
They weren’t that high yet. Emily could still make out people at play. Kids on a tube. A pontoon driver arguing with an officer on a patrol boat. A rafter being spat out of the Salmon River.
Emily focused on the rafter. Wasn’t that last stretch of the river a class six? Not many rafters would attempt such a run. And this guy was by himself. Not safe. He couldn’t have come from Tracen’s rafting company.
The guy waved at the plane. Not just a casual wave. He had both hands overhead, waving wildly. So wild, in fact, that he knocked his sunglasses off. Then he doubled over as if sneezing….
“Ahh!” Emily’s arms flew wide as she screamed, smacking Matt. She pressed her nose closer to the window when the plane zipped past Tracen. Oh no.
“What in the world?” Matt’s voice demanded from behind her.
She spun to face him. “Turn the plane around!” They had to turn around. Because Tracen was coming to stop her. Why else would he raft a class six by himself? He’d risked his life. She couldn’t leave him. Joy bubbled within. “Turn around. Tracen’s here.”
“What?” Matt’s eyebrows drew together for the moment he could look at her.
“Tracen. I saw him. He rafted here.” She twisted madly to get a look at his fading figure.
“What?” Matt repeated.
She didn’t have time to explain. They were already flying over land, headed for California. Her heart ricocheted between her ribs. “Go back. We have to land.”
“I can’t. I don’t have time to do my preflight check all over if I’m going to pick up my boss on time.” Matt squinted into the distance, trying to see Tracen for himself. “That can’t be Tracen, Emily. He knows better than to raft a class six.”
Emily itched to throw off her seat belt. “Exactly. But he’s crazy for me.” It was the only explanation. She wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. Not if Matt would just land the plane.
“He’s crazy, all right. But he’s too late.”
Emily clasped her hands together. “Matt, please.” How could she endure an entire flight to California, when Tracen was waiting for her below? Well, more accurately, waiting for her behind. They continued their flight pattern.
“I’m sorry, Emily. I can’t land. I’d lose my job.”
He couldn’t be serious. He knew Tracen’s fear. He knew she hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place. But now it was out of her control. “Help, Lord.”
Maybe God had been trying to tell her to wait through the verses in her head. “Many waters cannot quench love.” She should have listened.
“Come to the waters.”
Emily peered at the lake behind them. The blue speck of Tracen’s raft grew fainter. Goodness, he’d really rafted a class six for her. Something he’d only thought he could do if he had but one day to live. A deathly fear. Like jumping out of a plane had been for her.
“Come to the waters.”
If she jumped out of the plane, Matt wouldn’t have to land and wouldn’t be late for picking up his boss.
“Come to the waters.”
Tracen wasn’t the only crazy one. Grabbing the buckle to her seat belt, she released it from her waist.
Matt’s wide eyes did a double take. “Emily!”
“Turn the plane around, Matt.”
Blood pounded in her ears, drowning out his argument. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. They weren’t that high over the water. It would be like cliff diving. Or so she tried to tell herself.
“I’m crazy for your brother too.”
The plane tilted and buzzed around to return the way it came. Excitement warred with anxiety, causing her limbs to tremble. But she couldn’t let fear stand in the way. Tracen hadn’t.
Matt looked at her like he could hear her thoughts. “Holy cow. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”
Laughter burst from Emily’s gut. What a great story it was going to make for Matt’s future nephews and nieces.
“Okay, no boats below. Get ready.”
Emily took a deep breath, which was a good thing, because as soon as she released the latch, the door snapped open, and the wind froze her lungs. Whoa, this wasn’t cliff jumping at all. It was more like jumping from a speeding car. But hey, she’d done that before.
Looking down, she watched the water zip by, the distance causing her skin to feel covered in pinpricks. The dizziness traveled from her head to her stomach.
“I’ll count you down,” Matt volunteered.
She couldn’t think about it. Without looking down, she stuck her legs out the door and positioned her feet upon the pontoon. A flip-flop slipped from her foot, whirling erratically to the depths below.
“Three…”
O Lord, one miscalculation and she could flail like the flip-flop.
“Two…”
“Come to the waters.”
“One!”
This was it. With a giant leap of faith she lined her fingers up together in a prayer position, ducked her head, and leaned forward, letting gravity turn her into a comet.
It took an impossibly long time, yet she stayed tight, chin tucked. The water in the middle of the lake would be deep enough, wouldn’t it? Matt wouldn’t have let her jump if not. Too late to rethink things.
Bam. Liquid had never felt so solid. The lake slipped over her, slowing her descent, and chilling her to the tem
perature of an ice sculpture.
Arching her back, she sliced toward the surface, scissoring her legs. Her lungs burned for oxygen. Had she even inhaled after opening the plane door? Almost there. She could do it. Almost there. She hoped. And she’d thought the worst part was over.
Her vision blurred. No, it wasn’t her vision. It was the water. Bubbles dispersed, leaving Tracen’s image moving toward her through the water.
Oxygen or Tracen? Tracen.
She clawed at the water. Tracen mirrored her actions, air escaping from his wide smile. Reaching out, she caught his hand, and he pulled her to the surface.
Oh, she wanted to kiss him, feel the amazing connection once again. She gasped air—its burn raked through her. She was panting and puffing.
She wrapped her arms around Tracen’s neck, then sank down like a buoy bobbing in the waves. Tracen’s strong arms lifted her back up. Finally, he’d kiss her. He leaned in…she turned her head away just in time to cough up water.
Tracen laughed, his eyes sparkling down at her. Were they going to get a chance to kiss before a sneezing fit attacked him?
Tracen motioned toward the raft, then led the way in a front crawl, head above water, like he didn’t want anything else to possibly come between them. “You’re insane,” he yelled back at her.
He could call her anything he wanted to. “And you’re an idiot.”
Tracen grabbed the side of the raft and helped heave Emily into it. She turned and reached back over to pull him after her. He slid to the bottom and sprawled in the sun. Emily couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“I am an idiot.” Rolling to face her, Tracen’s smile slipped. “Will you ever forgive me?”
Emily reached for his fingers. The press could have a field day with her final stunt. But all that she cared about was the happy ending. “Forgive you? I just jumped out of a plane for you.”
Tracen’s lips curled into a half-smile. “You did, didn’t you?” He leaned forward, lifting his free hand to cup Emily’s face. “You must really love me.”
Emily leaned her head toward Tracen’s palm, feeling his warmth against her cheek. “I do.” It felt so good to say it. And she knew Tracen loved her. Or he wouldn’t have rafted to her rescue. Though it didn’t make sense why he would wait to the last minute to change his mind. But it didn’t matter at the moment. They had the rest of their lives to figure things out.
She looked into his eyes, willing the moment to never end. “Let’s start over.”
Tracen’s thumb lifted and brushed over her lower lip. “I can’t think of a better way to start,” he murmured.
“I know.” She breathed. “You have no idea what your thumb is doing to me right now.”
Tracen lifted his thumb, and the corners of his cheeks lifted, as well. “That’s not what I meant.” He paused. “I’m talking about how we just got washed by the water. Washed clean. Which is a good way to start afresh.”
Emily slipped closer to Tracen, enjoying the way his slick skin made it easy. “Mmm…yes, this is a good start. But are you sure you can’t think of anything better?”
“Actually, I can.” Tracen rolled to his knees, away from her. Where was he going? He kept her hand in his, at least. “Emily, I don’t ever want to lose you again. I will follow you anywhere you want to go. If you will marry me, I only have one request.”
Emily jerked upright. Tracen wasn’t just apologizing. He was proposing. That was definitely better. But…“Another ultimatum?”
Tracen’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way.”
He looked so cute. So humble. Like a new man. Her man. “I don’t care. I want to be with you. So, yes. I will marry you, Tracen Lake.”
Tracen crushed her to him then. His mouth covered hers, drinking her in. And she hoped it was a thirst never quenched. As his lips traced her jawbone and traveled down her neck, she had to know what he almost insisted on.
“What is your one request, Tracen? I’ll give up Wonder Woman if you want me to. I’m going to make this work.”
“No.” Tracen drew back, his eyes dancing. “I just want to make sure you give me some say in our wedding. I’ve got a great idea for the ceremony.”
Was that all? How incredibly sweet. Her wedding day might not be what she had planned, but nothing ever was with Tracen around. And she didn’t want it any other way.
Emily launched herself back into his embrace with a little too much exuberance. They splashed overboard into the water. The future Mr. and Mrs. Lake.
Epilogue
Late again. And for the wedding this time. But what could she do about it? The chairlift only had one speed. And it might not be as old as the world’s first chairlift, which was installed at the resort back in 1936, but it sure felt like it.
Emily smoothed the lacy dress under her faux fur wrap and readjusted her ski poles. No, this sure wouldn’t have been her choice for a wedding, but it would definitely be one to remember.
She grinned at the guests gathered below, excited to ski down the aisle. She hoped Jor-El wouldn’t crash into anyone as he tobogganed into position as ring bearer.
Almost to the top. This was it.
“Emily! Get over here. They’ve already started the procession. What took you so long?” Honey motioned frantically.
Emily slid to the ground and took a deep breath. Butterflies accompanied her as if she were about to do a stunt, not casually ski down the bunny hill. “So sorry, Honey. I got mobbed back at the resort. The paparazzi are a little obsessed with getting a picture of me in this getup.”
Tracen cut through the snow toward her, his shades and tuxedo giving him a 007 vibe. “Well, you look fabulous.” Talk about looking fabulous.
Emily melted—not a common occurrence in such freezing temperature. “Shall we?”
“I think we better. Or Honey is going to be a rogue bride and take off without us.”
“Now that’s a good idea.” Honey pushed off toward the curve of the slope.
Emily wrinkled her nose. “She’s a little eager.”
A smile flitted across Tracen’s lips. “So am I.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about Howie and Honey’s wedding, but about their whitewater wedding coming up in June. She couldn’t wait for that wild ride to begin either. “Should we race Honey to the altar?”
Tracen cocked his head. “I’d go anywhere with you.”
Leaning forward, Emily started the momentum of gravity and called back over her shoulder, “If you can keep up!”
His simple statement was not an easy one, but she’d make sure she was worth the effort. And she’d have fun doing it.
About the Author
Angela Ruth sold her first article to a national magazine while still in high school, which motivated her to study journalism at The University of Oregon. She continued writing as a stay-at-home mom, selling children’s stories to such publications as Hopscotch and an anthology titled Summer Shorts. During that time Angela also founded IDAhope Writers to help other aspiring authors pursue their dreams. Currently she works in marketing at Borderline Publishing and is very excited for the release of her first novel. You can e-mail her at [email protected]. She’d love to hear from you.
www.angelameuser.com
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