by Lisa Carter
Her father tightened his jaw. “Can’t go much faster or we’ll swamp the boat and flood the engine.”
They were running out of time, and she knew it. She prayed as hard as she’d ever prayed in her life they’d find Izzie on the shoal. Suppose the kayak had overturned in the water with Izzie inside?
Oh, God, please no. Help us find her safe. Help Izzie to be okay.
“Caroline!” Her dad nudged his chin toward a small elevation of land in the vastness of the raging water.
Arms wrapped around her updrawn knees, a tiny figure huddled in the middle of the rapidly diminishing sandbar. Her face hidden, the child’s red hair reflected brown in the pouring rain.
The waterman cut the throttle and slowed the vessel. “I can’t get any closer, or I risk grounding the boat.” He dropped anchor.
“Izzie!” Caroline clambered to the bow. “Isabelle.”
The wind caught and swallowed her words, but Izzie raised her head. Her mouth pulled down at the corners, she squinted into the watery horizon. Caroline waved frantically.
Izzie rose in one fluid motion. “Caroline!”
Stripping off the rain jacket, Caroline grabbed a life vest before jumping into the water. She flinched at the sudden cold. She sloshed through the waist-high water and fought her way toward the sandbank. The gravelly silt cut the bottom of her feet as she found a foothold onto dry land.
Caroline opened her arms wide as Izzie ran toward her. The child clasped Caroline in a stranglehold. “Are you okay, Ladybug?” She lifted Izzie’s chin and examined her features.
“I thought you’d left me forever…” The little girl sobbed. “You didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t find you.”
“I’m so sorry, Izzie. I’m here now. I’m so sorry I left you.” She peered at the worsening storm. “We’ve got to get you out of this, Ladybug.”
Kneeling, she helped Izzie into the life jacket. “We’ll have to swim to the boat, honey.”
Izzie recoiled from the churning waves. “I can’t.” She quivered. “I’m scared…”
“It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Caroline clicked the buckle in place. “Climb onto my back, Monkey Girl.”
The child twined her legs around Caroline’s torso and held on while Caroline staggered to her feet. Caroline struggled toward the water’s edge. She prayed the water would help her carry Izzie’s weight, and keep them buoyant.
Izzie gasped in shock as a wave washed over her bare legs. Her arms tightened around Caroline’s neck.
Caroline lifted her chin and plowed forward. The water was already deeper and more treacherous since she’d reached the shoal.
She lost her footing.
“Caroline!” Izzie screamed.
They plunged underneath the water. Caroline scissor-kicked and jerked them skyward. Izzie had swallowed a mouthful of water and coughed. The child moaned.
“I won’t let you go, Isabelle. Not ever,” she whispered in Izzie’s ear.
Caroline’s father threw a life ring out to them. In relief, she grasped hold. “We made it, Monkey Girl.” She shifted Izzie off her back, holding the little girl in her arms.
But when Caroline tried disentangling Izzie’s death grip from around her neck, Izzie panicked and squeezed harder. “No, no, no…”
Caroline felt her strength ebbing. “I’m right here, Izzie. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. You have to let go, just for a second.”
Izzie cried and hung her head.
“Please, Ladybug…” Caroline breathed. “The special word, remember?”
Izzie’s head snapped up. Her liquid blue eyes bored into Caroline’s for a moment, searching Caroline’s face. Then Izzie loosened her grip, allowing Caroline to insert the life preserver over her head.
Dog-paddling, Caroline shoved the ring through the waves toward the idling boat. Her father reeled in the lifeline, hand over hand, drawing them closer to the vessel.
He hauled Izzie onto the dive board and into the boat. Dripping water, the child stood trembling as he tugged Caroline on board. She’d no sooner found her footing than her father collapsed against the railing.
Reaching for him, she felt her heart staccato-step. “Dad? Are you all right? Dad?” He wasn’t a young man. He’d already suffered one nearly catastrophic heart attack several years ago. Izzie held on to Caroline’s shirttail as if holding on to life itself.
“I’m okay.” He scrubbed the pelting rain out of his face. Grasping the side of the boat, he leveraged himself upright. “Thank You, Lord,” he grunted. “Just in time.” He gestured.
Pivoting, she watched as the waves washed away all traces of the shoal. That could’ve been Izzie…
Her father enfolded Caroline and Izzie in a wet bear hug. “God’s never early, but always just in time.” His beard shadow scraped Caroline’s face as he kissed her cheek. “Ain’t that so, Daughter?”
She closed her eyes and relished the feel of her father’s embrace. “It is, Daddy. And thank you.”
He released her and patted Izzie’s head. “Don’t thank me yet. It’s going to be harder to return home than it was to leave.”
With her arm around Izzie’s shoulder, she followed her father to the wheel. “Isn’t it always, Dad?”
Amid the pouring rain, her father’s blue-green eyes—like the waters of the inlet on a blue-sky day—crinkled. “Not so hard when home is where the people you love, love you back.” He turned his attention toward the controls.
Warmth flooded the hollow places long empty in her heart. With Izzie on her lap, she sank onto the seat nearest her dad. She wrapped the raincoat around them both in an effort to share body heat and fend off the wind.
The blackness of the night and the driving rain obscured the shoreline. Dropping her gaze to the deck, Caroline blinked. The boat was taking on too much water.
“Dad? The boat… The water…” She motioned.
Grim-faced, her father fiddled with the maritime radio. He raised the mike to his mouth and pressed the button. Static crackled. “Mayday. Mayday. This is the Now I Sea…”
Tucking Izzie into the curve of her neck and cradling the crown of her head, Caroline sent out her own version of mayday to their Heavenly Father.
Because the road home had never seemed so long. Or as perilous.
Chapter Eighteen
As the hours ticked by and the storm continued to rage, Weston fought his own private battle with despair.
He grappled with overwhelming fear and hopelessness. The blackness of the night outside the lantern room windows reflected the bleakness of his heart. And magnified the insidious, seeping doubt he’d never see his beautiful child again.
Was this what it was like for Caroline? He could hardly breathe for the inner turmoil lashing his heart. He fell to his knees in agony.
He’d always believed himself strong of mind and body. But how had the fragile Caroline coped with this kind of anguish? And for years?
Weston prayed with every ounce of his being for Izzie to come home to him. And if she didn’t? He sucked in a breath at the suddenness of the thought—he’d want to be with her no matter what.
He shook his head against the idea. But he wondered whether, if he’d been given to melancholy like Caroline, he’d be so easily freed from the dark notion. If perhaps this was a taste of what she’d endured and overcome in her war against the darkness.
The phone in his jean pocket trilled. Clumsy with emotion, he dug it out with trembling hands. Good news? Or the worst?
“Weston? This is Braeden.”
He swallowed against the lump lodged in his throat. “Have you found Izzie?”
“She’s with Seth Duer, Wes. He and Caroline found her.”
“Thank You, God,” Weston breathed, and then frowned. “Caroline?” He clenched the cell.
“We received an emergency transmission from Seth on the Now I Sea. With the storm, visibility is at zero. He’s lost onboard navigation and barely powering through the storm. There’s no way to pinpo
int his location until the squall lifts.”
“You’ve got to get to them,” Weston growled into the receiver.
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Weston. No one is safe venturing out on the water right now. The storm won’t lift till morning.”
“We can’t leave them out there in the elements.” His voice rose. “If they lose power completely, they could be hopelessly lost, drifting,” His heart sank further. “Dead in the water.”
Braeden sighed. “I know. But there’s nothing we can do right now, except trust them to God.”
An idea dawned.
“There is one thing…one thing I can do to bring them safely home.” Weston clicked the phone off. “And I will with God’s help.”
*
Over the roar of the wind and waves, Caroline clutched Izzie and sang snatches of an old hymn she remembered her mother singing on stormy nights long ago. Something about a love that didn’t let go.
“You see me in the dark.” Caroline’s teeth chattered. “Darkness isn’t dark to you.”
Izzie tilted her head. “What?”
Caroline tucked the raincoat closer around Izzie. “It’s from a psalm. ‘At night, I’m immersed in the light. Night and day. Darkness and light. They’re the same to you.’”
At the wheel, her father wrestled against the forces of the storm.
Izzie’s cold, damp hand cupped Caroline’s cheek. “I love you, Caroline.”
Caroline’s eyes pricked with tears too long held, further blurring the night. “I love you, too, Izzie.” Her voice hitched. “So much.”
The engine strained against the power of the wind.
Caroline chewed her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Dad. So sorry for getting you into this.”
Her father softened his rigid stance. “No need to be sorry for anything, Ladybug.”
“Ladybug?” Izzie shifted. “That’s what Caroline calls me.”
He laughed. “Two ladybugs you are. Two peas in a pod.” He laid his hand upon Caroline’s head.
She closed her eyes against the pummeling rain.
“No need for any more sorrow, Ladybug.” His voice subtly altered. “There is a light that drives out the darkness.”
Her eyes flew open.
“It’s the lighthouse.” Izzie gestured at a beam of light starboard side. “We’re almost home, Caroline.”
As Caroline’s father steered the boat toward its source, the light grew stronger, brighter. She and Izzie held hands.
“Mind the rocks on the point, Dad,” she cautioned.
Her father made a rumbling sound in his throat. “Best you stick to your turtle business, Turtle Lady, and leave me to mine.”
Good ol’ Dad. She thanked God some things never changed. Like His great love and the love of her family.
“Clang the bell, Isabelle,” the waterman shouted as he cut the throttle and edged the Now I Sea into the lighthouse dock. “Let yer dad know we’ve come.”
Bouncing out of Caroline’s lap, Izzie rang the clapper mounted at the bow of the boat. The sound echoed through the darkness of the night. Light spilled across the ground as a door was wrenched open in the cottage. A man stood silhouetted in the doorway.
“Daddy!” yelled Izzie.
Caroline caught Izzie around the waist before she plunged overboard in her haste. “Hold on, Izz. We’re nearly there.” She scrambled off the boat onto the dock and caught the mooring line her father tossed.
He eased the boat closer. “Better tie her down good.”
“Izzie!”
The child’s head snapped around at Weston’s voice. Caroline’s dad stepped out of the boat and helped Izzie maneuver across the gap.
Weston raced toward them. The rain flattened his hair. His shirt clung to his chest. But he had eyes only for his daughter. He gathered Izzie in his arms. “Izzie, baby.” He feathered her bedraggled locks with kisses. “Sweetheart…”
And she hugged her daddy as if she’d never let go. “I’m sorry, Daddy. So sorry.”
Caroline busied herself with the lines. Almost her exact words to her father. Her eyes darted to the waterman.
A suspicious line of moisture tracked down his face. Swiping at his grizzled cheekbone, he snorted at her upraised brow. She smiled and grasped his hand. But she understood.
For Weston and Seth—at last their prodigals had returned home.
A pucker creased Izzie’s brow. “I’m in big trouble, aren’t I, Dad?”
His mouth trembled for a second before he regained control. “Yes, Monkey Girl, you are.” He cleared the hoarseness from his voice. “But tonight we won’t talk about that.” He hugged her close. “Tonight we’ll celebrate.”
Weston faced Caroline’s father. “I can never thank you enough, sir, for saving my little girl.”
“I piloted the boat. It was Caroline who figured out where she’d gone.”
For the first time, Weston focused on Caroline. “Thank you, Dr. Duer.” He scowled. “I guess this means I owe you, too.”
Sucker punched, she felt her stomach knot. But what had she expected? Her leaving had set this near disaster with Izzie into motion. Weston had every right to hate her.
Her father draped his arm across Caroline’s shoulders. “I’m right proud of my girl here, son. As pleased to have her back as you are to have yours home.”
Caroline’s heart thudded.
Weston’s gaze flicked between Caroline and her father. “Come into the house and get dry. I’ll let Braeden know to call off the search.”
Her dad nodded. “And I’ll get Sawyer to run out here first light to fetch us with the boat trailer.”
“Good.” Without another word, Weston turned on his heel. Izzie in his arms, he plodded up the rocky causeway toward the cottage.
Staring after them, Caroline slumped against her father.
“No question you love that little girl.” Her father blew out a breath. “Real question is, do you love Izzie’s dad, too?”
“For his sake, Dad, I wish I didn’t.”
He took hold of her chin and raised it level with his gaze. “For your sake, I’m glad you do.”
“Dad—”
“Weston Clark’s had the worst sort of day, daughter.” He drew her toward the cottage. “Thought he’d lost the woman he loved and his child, too. He’s confused and hurting. Give him time to adjust.”
She hesitated at the bottom of the stoop. “Maybe I should keep my distance.”
“Don’t be afraid of what you feel. Don’t be afraid to love him, Ladybug. Just get in there and show him how much you love them both.”
“What if—”
He shook her arm, none too gently. “What if Weston refuses to forgive you? What if he sends you away forever? So what if worse comes to worst?” Her father glowered at her.
Tough love, Seth Duer–style. But he was right. Facing the fear circumvented the anxiety and dealt a deathblow to depression.
She lifted her chin. “Then I guess I won’t ever live in the lighthouse.”
“Could be.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “But I’ll still have my family.”
“That’s for sure.” Her father raised his face to the pouring rain. “But what else, Ladybug? What else you got?”
Caroline stamped her foot on the rocky soil and winced. She’d forgotten she was barefoot. “Then I’ll still have my turtles, and my nephews will probably become the most spoiled children in the history of the world.”
She tossed her head. Less effective with wet strands of her hair slapping her cheeks.
“There’s my girl. Duers don’t quit, do they, darlin’?” He laughed. “Go on.”
He tugged her up the step. “Give that Coastie what for.” She stumbled through the open door and across the threshold.
Weston’s shadow filled the doorway. “Ex-Coastie.”
She froze.
He grimaced. “An ex-Coastie dealing with a born here, ’been here who doesn’t have enough sense to come in
out of the rain.”
Before Caroline quite knew what hit her, Weston scooped her into his arms.
Weston carried her into the cottage. “Stubborn, know-it-all…”
She nudged her chin at her father. “Could use a little support here, Dad.”
Caroline’s dad wrenched the door shut behind them. “I think you’ve got enough support.” He winked at Izzie wrapped in a blanket in Weston’s recliner.
“Not enough sense to wear shoes in a storm…” Weston deposited Caroline on the sofa.
“D-daddy?” she stammered.
“Totally agree.” Her father shrugged. “Common sense ain’t that common.”
She blinked. “Seriously?”
Weston towered over her. “Bleeding all over my hundred-year-old floors…”
Sure enough, a bloody footprint at the door marred the hardwood floor. The one step she’d taken before being abducted by this Coastie.
Her father chuckled. “Head always in the clouds. Or in a book.”
She shot him a scathing glare. Her father rolled his tongue in his cheek.
Weston nodded. “Must be why she’s so smart.”
Caroline flushed. “Too smart for my own good?”
Weston’s eyes flashed. “Izzie assures me she’s okay. She’s going to her room to get a hot bath.” He scanned her father’s wiry form. “You and me are about the same height. You need to get out of those clothes before you catch pneumonia. Feel free to use the phone in my room, too.”
Unfastening his dripping slicker, her dad hung it on a peg inside the door. “I don’t aim to catch phew-monia.”
Izzie laughed.
“It’ll take more than a summer storm to best this old sea dog.” He looked at his Wellingtons. “What about—?”
“Best get to it, Mr. Duer.” Weston’s stern countenance didn’t alter one iota. He tapped his shoe against the hundred-year-old floor. “I’ll deal with Caroline. I’ve got a few choice things to say to her.”
She shrank deeper into the cushions. Weston’s face was about as ominous as the thundercloud currently hovering over the Delmarva Peninsula.
Throwing off the blanket, Izzie hopped out of the chair. “I’ll show you the way, Mr. Seth.” She held out her hand.