“Look, Daniel has almost reached the boat.” Claire’s soft voice drew her attention, and Liza looked out at the sea again. She held her hand over her eyes, blocking the raindrops.
“Yes . . . he’s nearly there. I hope the sailor can see him. He might be lying flat on the deck. Or he might be washed overboard by now,” Liza added in an even smaller voice.
Liza looked out at the boat again, just in time to see a horrifying sight. A huge wave curled above the sailboat and the skiff, building and building until it couldn’t grow any higher. The massive curve of water hovered for a moment, pulling both boats up in its smooth glassy shell . . . before toppling forward in a foamy flood.
Liza gasped and grabbed Claire’s hand. “They’re getting swamped! They’re both going to drown!”
Claire closed her eyes. “Dear God in heaven, please protect Daniel and everyone in that sailboat. Please let them return to shore safe and sound . . .”
Liza had her eyes closed, too, and silently echoed Claire’s humble, desperate plea. She couldn’t look at the water again, afraid of what she would see. But Claire’s clear voice broke through her dark visions.
“Liza, look! Daniel’s okay! He rowed right through it. The sailboat turned over, and the man was tossed in the water . . . and Daniel’s spotted him! He’s got him on that hook thing they use to pull people in . . . I think they’re going to be okay.”
Liza grabbed for the binoculars that were tucked into her sweatshirt. She stared through them and tried to focus.
“What about the child . . . or whoever else was aboard? Daniel said he saw another figure, another life jacket . . .”
Raindrops clouded the lenses, but she could still see Daniel, kneeling now in the skiff, balanced precariously as he pulled in a long pole, hand over hand. All she could see on the other end was a body in a bright orange life jacket. Not too far from the skiff, a smaller form, also in an orange jacket, bobbed about. The sailor’s arms were flailing, and it seemed he was trying to grab at the other, smaller body before he would get into Daniel’s boat.
“What’s that next to the skiff? Is it a child?” Claire asked with a gasp.
“I can’t tell . . . It’s definitely something . . . Oh, it’s a dog! A big brown dog . . . wearing a life jacket.”
The sailor had a hold on the other orange life jacket now, and Liza could make out the head and shoulders of the man and the sleek wet head and muzzle of a dog beside him.
“It looks like the man won’t get in the boat without his dog,” Liza said.
“Let me see . . .” Claire turned, and Liza handed her the binoculars. “Yes, it’s a very big dog. The sailor’s holding on to the edge of the skiff, and Daniel is pulling the dog in first.”
Liza winced. “I hope there’s room for all of them.”
“I hope so, too. From the looks of it, I don’t think that man will get in if he has to leave his friend behind.”
“Daniel would never leave the dog,” Liza said firmly. “He would put the dog in the boat and swim to shore himself, if that was the case.”
Claire handed back the binoculars. “Yes, he would. But thankfully, that won’t be necessary. He’s got them both on board. The man looks exhausted. That’s a lot of weight for Daniel to be rowing.”
Liza stared through the binoculars again. The skiff was coming back toward the shore. A huge wave of relief washed over her heart—bigger than any ocean wave. The boat moved slower than it had when it headed out, weighed down now with two more on board.
“I hope he can make it back.” Liza considered rushing into the water to try to help the boat somehow. But that was ridiculous. There was nothing she could do. She felt so frustrated and powerless, watching him.
Claire touched her arm. “Daniel will be all right. God is out there rowing with him.”
Finally, the boat broke through the last line of waves and floated into the shallows. Liza splashed through the water and grabbed a line that dangled at the bow. She held on tight while Daniel jumped out. Together with Claire, they tugged and pushed the skiff loaded with its rescued passengers the rest of the way to solid ground.
“Daniel . . . I was so worried. I could hardly stand to watch.” Liza stared into Daniel’s eyes a moment, then quickly hugged him. His face and hair were dripping wet, raindrops trickling down his cheeks and strong jaw.
“I’m all right, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” He met her gaze for a moment with a look that connected them on the deepest level. “Help me get this man out. He’s barely breathing.”
Claire and Liza took the sailor’s feet, and Daniel took his shoulders. Luckily, he was not a big man and seemed fit.
Still, it was difficult to carry him even a short distance.
“In the cave. He needs some cover.” Led by Daniel, they carried the man up the beach and into the opening of one of the many caves at the base of the sandy cliff. They gently laid him down on the ground, and Daniel quickly knelt down and began working on him.
There was some light at the opening of the cave, but not much. Claire reached into her pocket and took out a small flashlight. She turned it on and pointed the beam of yellow light down at the sailor. “I grabbed this at the last minute. It’s not much light, but it should help,” she said quietly.
“It does help; keep it steady,” Daniel replied as he quickly slipped off the sailor’s life jacket and checked his pulse and eyes.
“He’s not breathing. I need to give him mouth-to-mouth.”
Liza knelt on the man’s other side, waiting for Daniel’s instruction. She had seen the dog jump out of the boat and suddenly realized the loyal pet had followed them. It stood right above its master and gently prodded the man’s cheek with its nose.
“Here, boy.” Claire grabbed the dog’s collar and tugged him back. “You stay with me. Your master is in good hands. No one is going to hurt him.”
The dog seemed to understand and allowed Claire to hold his collar. She gently petted his head, still holding the light steady with her other hand. A moment later, the dog lay down and sighed, his gaze fixed on their patient.
Daniel turned the man to his side and held his mouth open. Water poured out. “He swallowed half the ocean.”
Daniel quickly cleared the man’s mouth with his index finger. Then he set him on his back again, positioned his head, and breathed into his mouth . . . one, two, three breaths.
Liza watched, holding her own breath. Finally she saw the stranger’s chest rise and fall as he took a breath on his own.
“He’s breathing . . . Thank You, God,” Claire said aloud.
Liza silently thanked God as well. She was so grateful that Daniel was here, alive and well and able to revive this poor man. Daniel had a gift for healing, there was no doubt.
Daniel leaned back, still kneeling at the man’s side. When he finally looked up at Liza, she could see relief shining in his eyes. He sighed aloud. “That was close. I think he’ll be all right now. He’s just exhausted.”
“He needs to be in dry clothes, in a warm bed,” Claire said.
“Absolutely. But how will we ever get him up the steps?” Liza looked at Daniel, and then Claire. “Can we carry him together?”
“I have an idea,” Claire said. “What if Daniel goes back to the inn, grabs some blankets, and drives his truck down to the boat launch? There’s access there to the beach. He can drive here, and we’ll put the man in the back of the truck and return the same way.”
Daniel stood up and nodded. “I had the same thought. In the meantime, he should be covered. He could develop hypothermia.” Daniel took off his slicker and tucked it around the stranger. “I’ll be right back. Just watch him closely.”
“We won’t take our eyes off him,” Liza promised.
“Neither will his friend.” Claire rested her hand on the dog, who was now cuddled to the man’s side, his big head resting on
his paws.
Liza wondered if the man was aware of all that was going on—or of the dog’s comforting presence at his side. Maybe on some level, he was. Maybe, even though it seemed he was barely conscious, it would help to say a few words to him.
Liza leaned over and spoke very softly. “Don’t worry; you’re going to be all right. Your dog is all right, too. He’s right here beside you.”
The man’s eyelids fluttered, but his eyes didn’t open. Liza wondered if she had just imagined it.
When she looked up, Claire was smiling softly. “That was a good idea. I think he can hear you . . . though I doubt he’ll remember.”
“I’m glad he survived. Another minute or two, and who knows what would have happened. What if I’d stayed inside this morning and answered e-mail? Or gone to Newburyport? No one would have seen him.”
“No sense in dwelling on what-ifs. You did go out, thank goodness. Maybe you were meant to be there.”
“Maybe,” Liza quietly agreed. She looked down at the man again. He seemed to be resting more peacefully, with Daniel’s yellow slicker tucked up to his chin. He breathed in a normal way, as if in a deep sleep.
She had not seen his arm move, but noticed that one hand now rested on the dog. Perhaps the familiar sensation had elicited the peaceful look that had settled on his face.
Following Claire’s plan, the rescuers soon delivered both man and dog to the inn. They carried the stranger to a bedroom on the second floor, where Daniel took his vital signs again and examined him for any injuries he might have missed on the beach. Then Daniel cleaned him up, dressed him in some dry clothes he found in his truck, and tended to a few cuts and bruises.
Liza had slipped into her own room for a few minutes to change into dry clothes, too. The wind and rain had whipped her hair into a mass of wild brown curls, and she struggled to gather and pin it in a haphazard knot at the back of her head.
When she finally returned to the visitor’s room, Claire was near the bed, drying the dog with an old towel. The dog looked very grateful for the attention and stood stone-still while she held his head in her hand and rubbed his thick fur.
“I called the Coast Guard back and told them what happened and how we handled it,” Claire told the others. “They’d like some information about the boat and the sailor, to follow up.”
“I’ll get back to them,” Daniel offered, “when we find all that out. Right now, I don’t think our patient is up to any interviews.”
Liza quietly walked over to Daniel, who was bandaging a small cut on the man’s forehead. She noticed the box containing medical supplies that Daniel carried in his truck. The lid was open, and inside she could see gauze, tape, and antiseptic, a blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope, and some other instruments she didn’t know by name. He kept them handy for his calls as a volunteer EMT at the medical clinic in the island’s town center. The nearest doctor was in the village of Cape Light, and the nearest hospital was more than an hour away in Southport, so Daniel and the other island volunteers were kept busy.
But Liza knew that Daniel had been familiar with the tools of the medical trade long before he’d arrived on Angel Island, though that was something he almost never mentioned.
The stranger was now tucked under a thick pile of quilts, every part of him covered but his head and neck. He looked to be in his early sixties, with thick gray hair combed back straight from his forehead. It was a bit long, but perhaps he hadn’t pulled into port to visit a barber for a while. A thick salt-and-pepper mustache covered his upper lip, and heavy eyebrows seemed at odds with his pleasantly rounded face, full cheeks, and ruddy pink skin. Something about his expression, even with his eyes closed, looked intelligent.
“Is he sleeping?” Liza asked quietly.
“He’s in and out. He said a few words while I was cleaning him up. I don’t think there’s any need to take him to the hospital,” Daniel said. “I was afraid he hit his head when the boat turned over, but he doesn’t appear to have any contusions on his head, or any signs of concussion. His pulse is a bit erratic,” he added with concern. “But he’s not a young man. And he’s still in shock.”
“He has good color again in his complexion.” Claire stood near the bed and studied the stranger.
Perhaps the man heard them talking. Liza watched his head toss from side to side, and his eyes slowly opened.
He stared up at them with bloodshot, blue-gray eyes. He looked alarmed for a moment, but Claire reached out and gently touched his shoulder.
“Don’t be scared. We’re here to help you. Your boat capsized in the storm. Do you remember?”
He stared at Claire and blinked, then ran his tongue over parched lips. He had not been out in the water long, but long enough to leave his mouth swollen, his lips sore and chapped.
“I do . . . I do now,” he replied in a raspy voice. “The storm . . . it came up so suddenly. I wasn’t ready. I should have headed for shore much sooner . . .”
“Don’t trouble yourself. It’s all over and done,” Claire said quietly. “Daniel pulled you out. You’re safe now.”
The man nodded, his expression very grim. He swallowed hard and suddenly seemed agitated, staring around and trying to sit up. “Edison . . . my dog . . . Did you see him? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. He’s right here on the floor next to you. He hasn’t left your side for a moment.” Daniel pointed down to the place where Edison was resting. The ordeal had tired the faithful friend out, too. Claire had made him a bed from an old blanket and left a bowl of water for him. Now the dog was curled up on the blanket, snoring gently.
The man peered over the edge of his pillow, saw the dog, and sighed. A small smile formed on his lips. His eyes closed again, as if that simple act had taken a great effort.
“Can you tell us your name? I couldn’t find any identification,” Daniel said quickly, trying to get in one last question before the stranger fell asleep again.
“Nolan. Nolan Porter. I’ve been sailing down from Maine since late May,” he murmured. “Ariadne . . . my boat. Did she go under?”
“She’s taken on some water, but drifted toward the shore. She’s in a protected spot, near a dock. The storm has almost passed. I might be able to pull your boat onto dry land, or at least tie it up.”
“Could you?” Nolan’s eyes opened again. He stared at Daniel with surprise and gratitude. “That would be . . . exceptionally kind.” His words came out slowly, in a hoarse voice, each word requiring effort. “That vessel is all I have now in the world. My papers and belongings in the cabin. Very valuable . . . essential to me. Even if the boat is lost.”
“I understand. I’ll call a friend who has a fishing boat with a winch. We’ll get your boat secured for you,” Daniel promised.
Nolan sighed and nodded, his eyes still closed. His expression relaxed a bit, Liza thought. He’d spent what little energy he could summon.
Daniel signaled to Liza and Claire, and they followed him into the hall. He left the door open a crack, and when Liza looked back, the big dog was watching them, though he didn’t stir.
“He’ll probably sleep for a few hours. But you ought to check on him every twenty minutes or so.”
“I’ll check,” Claire replied. “I’m going to put up some soup. It will take the chill out and give him strength.”
Liza took Daniel’s hand and looked up at him. “Do you want me to come with you? I can help with the boat.”
“I know you can . . . But no sense in both of us getting soaked again.” He smiled at Claire. “I will be looking for some of that soup when I get back, Claire.”
“That’s the least we can do, after you saved a man’s life today . . . Now that I think of it, I guess you deserve some fresh biscuits and johnnycake, too.” She smiled and nodded as she headed down the stairs.
Daniel laughed. “In that case, I won’t be long,” he pr
omised, looking back at Liza.
“I hope so.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You did save that man’s life. I’m very proud of you.”
He put his arm around her shoulder as they walked to the staircase. “You and Claire did your part as well. We all helped to rescue him.”
“But you got him breathing again. I don’t think he would have made it if you hadn’t been there, Daniel. I know you love fixing old houses and broken furniture . . . but you have a real gift for fixing people, too.” She took one of his big calloused hands in her own as they stood at the top of the stairs. “A gift for healing . . . You know that, don’t you?”
He didn’t exactly smile, but she saw a certain light in his eyes. Recollecting the moment he’d gotten Nolan Porter breathing again? Or other patients, too? “It’s an amazing feeling, pulling someone back from the edge like that,” he admitted quietly. “Like nothing else in the world, really. A humbling feeling, too,” he added. “I know I can’t take much credit for it. But I do feel privileged to help when I can.”
Liza knew what he meant. It was really by the grace of God that Nolan Porter was alive right now. Daniel saw himself as a go-between; an instrument.
“You are privileged . . . and good at it, too,” she added quickly.
He met her gaze briefly and smiled. Then he dropped a kiss in her hair. “See you later, gorgeous . . . Save me some biscuits.”
Liza didn’t answer, just leaned over the banister and watched him disappear down the hall. He knew very well that Claire would save him plenty. Maybe they would talk more about this later when they were alone. Liza hoped so.
She returned to Nolan Porter’s room and glanced in at him one more time. At least they knew his name. She wondered who he was and where he was going. Was he from Maine, or had he only started his trip there? There must be someone they could contact. A wife or relative? A close friend?
And why did he tell them that the boat was all he had left in the world? That sounded so . . . extreme. So many people who came to the inn had interesting lives and backgrounds. She wondered about this visitor’s story. She had a feeling it wasn’t one she had heard before. Liza couldn’t help but consider again the fragile circumstances that had spared the man’s life. How she had almost skipped the beach this morning and how, even once she got down the steps, she had to persuade herself to stay. And how she was the only person on the beach for miles in any direction, and could have easily not even noticed the floundering sailboat. Or realized how dire its situation had been.
Harbor of the Heart Page 2