Silver Tides (Silver Tides Series)

by Susan Fodor

  Silver Tides

  Susan Fodor

  Copyright © 2012 Susan Fodor

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1490599830

  ISBN-13: 1490599835

  disclaimer

  This entire book is a work of fiction.

  Names, places, characters and incidents are all either

  products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales and

  persons are coincidental and not to be construed as real.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be used or reproduced

  in any form or by any means without the prior

  permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2013 by Susan Fodor

  DEDICATION

  For Alessandra,

  you made my dreams come true.

  Rescue

  The night of the accident the sea was dark and angry, like a ravenous vampire out for blood. The wind tore at my dish-water-colored hair, straightening the curls that Jaimie, had meticulously set for our double date. I held back the tears as my borrowed dress flapped around my thighs. I grasped at the flimsy fabric for modesty’s sake, despite the dark. Anyone that may have noticed was too busy getting drunk around the fire at the party I was escaping.

  Why I'd let Jaimie talk me into going to the beach party remained an unsolved mystery as I stormed along the water's edge. It wasn't Jaimie's fault. Everyone loved her; she had the bone structure of a supermodel, the face of an angel and a kind spirit. She could have been anyone's best friend but time and circumstance had stuck her with me - the undisputed DUFF (Designated Ugly Fat Friend) in the relationship. I kicked the waves lapping at my feet daring them to feel more turbulence than an embarrassed 17-year-old.

  Jaimie had set me up with Tim's friend, Evan, who was visiting from Melbourne. Being Tim's friend should have been sufficient warning. Tim was a walking cliché. The jock school captain, who would peak in high school and spend the rest of his life reminiscing about the glory days. I hoped that Jaimie would dump him long before then.

  Jaimie was so excited at the prospect of a double date, I couldn't turn her down.

  Evan greeted me with, "I'm going to need a few beers before I do you, maybe thirteen." Tim had laughed, which made Jaimie start yelling at him.

  “Way mature,” I replied sarcastically, trying to look unflustered. I turned on my heel and stormed away leaving the loud party behind.

  The sea growled like my stomach after school, but I doubted that a bowl of Cheerios would satiate the hunger of the salty beast lapping at my feet.

  In the foamy waves, the moon illuminated something out-of-place rolling towards the shore. It flipped over and over like a tree branch with its limbs flailing in the tumultuous froth.

  I squinted into the darkness, trying to determine what the object could be. In the back of my mind, I knew what it was, but my conscious mind didn’t want to acknowledge what my eyes were seeing.

  It was a body.

  I ran into the water screaming for help, hoping that the revelers could still hear me. The frigid waves pushed me back. I lifted my feet higher to get over the force of the waves. The water was bitingly cold, as it seeped through my light dress, chilling me to the core.

  The opaque ocean was lapping at my soft abdominals before I could get my bearings; the body was only a few feet away. The freezing water lifted me off my feet and I began to swim feebly toward the dark figure.

  I snagged the body by the foot, maneuvering it around till I had his head under my arm and safely out of the water. I pushed my dread of dead bodies aside, assuring myself that he was alive. It was just my luck that the body was a muscular guy. The tide fought against me, trying to tear him from my arms. I struggled against the rip, thrashing and kicking like a child throwing a tantrum.

  I ruled out a career as a lifeguard--not only would it be an assault on people’s eyes to see me in a bathing suit, but I made swimming look like a full contact sport. The rip began to drag us toward the vastness and my rising panic made it hard to see which way the shore was.

  “Focus Mya,” I told myself, taking a few quick breaths, while ensuring that the boy’s face was still above water.

  The moon was shimmering on the water’s surface. In the distance I could see lumpy shadows. I hoped it was land as I angled my body toward the peaks and pulled the heavy mass behind me. The swirling sucking motion of the waves became more violent in their mission to consume us. I kicked harder and pulled the body with all my might, fatigue filling my limbs. Salty foam invaded my mouth causing me to cough, as I fought the sea.

  I began to fear for my own safety, before my toes scraped the sand. A wave lifted me away from the shore and I kicked against it, dragging the body onto the sand with my last spurt of energy. I put my head on his chest and heard nothing.

  “Dear God help me,” I said, as I checked his mouth for any objects. I turned him on his side to pour out any water before I tipped his head back and blew five quick breathes into his deflated lunges. I began CPR.

  “Two breaths, fifteen chest compressions,” I heard our gym teacher yelling at us.

  I turned him on his side as water spewed out of him: he had a faint pulse, but still wasn’t breathing.

  “Mya!” Jaimie screamed. She’d been scouring the beach looking for me after blasting Tim, and her voice was shrill from the stress of the evening’s events.

  “Call for an ambulance,” I screamed, blowing more air into the stranger’s lungs. “Call for an ambulance!”

  I continued to breathe for him, as I answered Jaimie’s questions for 000.

  “No, he’s not breathing… he has a faint heart beat… yes, someone is doing CPR,” Jaimie said panicked. I puffed my air into him, turning him on his side intermittently, Jaimie relayed instructions on how I could be more effective.

  Eventually Jaimie was repeating the same thing over and over, “We’re near Sands Caravan Park, just out of Geelong … No down Port Arlington Drysdale Road … No, no Sands Caravan Park.” The emergency operator exhausted her questions, and dispatched an ambulance.

  I lost all sense of time as I knelt over the stranger breathing into his lungs, clearing the phlegm and salt water from his mouth, breathing into his lungs more. He still wasn’t breathing on his own, so I continued my efforts to keep him alive.

  I talked to him while clearing his mouth. “Stay with me... stay away from the light... don’t make my night swim a waste of time... you’re going to be OK... stay with me.”

  Jaimie’s phone rang. The ambulance driver couldn’t find us. Jaimie ran up to the beach access to lead them to me.

  Seeing the ambulance lights bouncing across the sand made my chest swell with relief. The tires effortlessly rolled over the uneven sand, stopping so that the boy and I were caught in the headlights, my shadow laboring over his prone body.

  “They’re here,” Jaimie said, pulling me away gently.

  When the paramedics took over I slumped into the cold sand, my legs and skirt being dusted in sand like a cinnamon donut. My body shook with fatigue and adrenalin as much as the cold.

  “What happened?” demanded the gruff old paramedic with a shock of white hair, whom I immediately named Grumbles. His eyes searched my face, looking for the signs of intoxication, assuming that I was another reckless teenager who’d almost added to the drowning statistics.

  “He was in the water; I pulled him out and gave him CPR,” I said, realizing for the first time that tears were running down my face.

  The boy took a feeble breath, and a shiver ran up my spine. Jaimie rubbed my back comfortingly.

  “
What’s his name?” the younger ambulance officer asked, looking between Jaimie and me.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know him. I don’t know how long he’s been in the water; I just saw him and pulled him out,” I stammered, my teeth chattering.

  Jaimie backed me up. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  They carefully lifted the boy onto a gurney and fixed an oxygen mask to his face. Jaimie helped me to my feet so we could watch the paramedics load the stranger into the ambulance.

  “Are you alright?” the younger paramedic asked, noticing that I was shaking.

  “Yes, fine,” I replied my teeth chattering.

  Grumbles ran his disapproving eyes over me and ordered, “Get in the ambulance.”

  “I’ll meet you at Geelong hospital,” Jaimie said, pushing me into the ambulance. I didn’t want to be Tim when she found him.

  Grumbles wrapped a white blanket around me that provided no heat, and ordered me to sit on the bed opposite the boy. He checked me over quickly, shining the torch in my eyes and asking multiple questions before he announced, “You have mild shock; call your parents and lie down.” In the fray Jaimie had found my discarded clutch, I didn’t even remember throwing it away before diving into the water; but I was glad for the dry phone to call my parents.

  Fortunately Mum answered the phone. “Mya?” she asked, her voice sleepy.

  “Mum… you need to pick me up from the hospital…”

  “Why?” Mum asked, sounding like she was about to sprint to the hospital in her pajamas.

  “I’m fine,” I assured calmly, trying to send a comforting vibe through the phone, “there was a boy drowning and I pulled him out.”

  “Oh,” Mum said, “and you’re OK?”

  “Fine,” I replied convincingly.

  She was quiet for a long time before saying, “That’s good. We’ll pick you up soon.”

  Mum didn’t wait for my response, she was in motion, and I’d see her soon enough. She was probably running around the house trying to find her bag or shoes, while ordering Dad around, my family could have easily had its own sitcom.

  My eyes drifted to the boy who looked like he was sleeping apart from the oxygen mask.

  “Is he going to be OK?” I asked hopefully.

  “He’s unconscious, but his heart’s beating and he’s breathing. He wouldn’t be doing either without you. So you did good, kid.” Grumble’s smile looked like a grimace.

  In the light I could see that the boy was around my age with light-tan skin and a shock of golden curls. His long dark eyelashes accented the blue circles around his eyes, and he had a mouth like toothpaste commercial. I gently touched his cheek; it was as cold as ice.

  Noticing my gesture the ambulance officer asked again, “Sure you don’t know him?”

  “Never saw him before this moment,” I said, withdrawing my hand quickly.

  “You did a brave thing, but it could have ended with two dead kids; since it worked out I’m not going to chew you out,” Grumbles grunted, before turning to some equipment that absorbed his attention.

  “Thanks,” I replied, unable to take my eyes from the boy’s broad shoulders and muscular chest. His clothes were torn as though he’d been in the water for a long time.

  “I’m glad I saved you,” I whispered for his ears only. “You’re much too handsome to leave this world just yet.”

  His mouth twitched, but Grumbles assured me it was nothing.

  The ride to the hospital was shorter than the time I’d spent trying to resuscitate the handsome boy opposite me.

  Under the full blare of the fluorescent emergency room lights he was more enchanting than words could describe. A frumpy nurse with cankles let me sit beside him as she completed both our assessments.

  "He's a lucky guy, if you hadn’t been there…" She shook her head. "No doubt someone will claim him soon, but till then I'll list you as his emergency contact."

  I nodded. "Can you let me know when he wakes up?"

  Nurse Cankles gave me a questioning look, that told me she could see how attracted I was to sleeping handsome.

  "I just want to know he's OK," I explained unconvincingly.

  "Sure you do," Nurse Cankles replied with a conspiring wink. I blushed.

  A frizzy haired nurse in resplendent white sneakers and stress strained eyes led Jaimie and Tim into the cubicle.

  “Your sister is in here,” the frazzled nurse announced without even glancing at me, she was gone in a blink.

  "You scared me so much!" Jaimie chastised, running into the cubicle and hugging me.

  "I scared me too," I admitted, finding comfort in Jaimie’s familiar peach scent.

  “I told the nurse I was your sister to get in here,” Jaimie confessed, without a shred of regret.

  “I figured,” I smiled, enjoying the energy she brought to the bleached emergency room cubicle.

  "Sorry about Evan," Tim said lamely, clearly under orders to apologize.

  "Don't sweat it." I shrugged, motioning to the boy. "John wouldn't be here if it had been a good date."

  “John?” Jaimie asked drawing closer to him entranced. "He really is beautiful, isn't he?"

  “The nurses named him John Smith on the paper work, since he’s unconscious and all,” I explained.

  “Oh,” Jaimie said, her eyes fixed on John.

  "Babe," Tim complained, "I'm right here."

  "I didn't say anything when you were ogling Tammy Chester's assets last week, so shut up," Jaimie snapped, still upset over the earlier disagreement.

  "Can we take you home?" Tim asked, avoiding another fight.

  "My parents are on their way." I sighed. "Hospital policy."

  "We'll wait with you," Jaimie replied, pulling up a chair as Tim huffed quietly to himself.

  Dad’s loud Russian accent reverberated through the quiet ward, long before he arrived in the cubicle I was occupying. The sound of curtains being roughly shifted drew closer. I rose to tell my parents where I was, but dad wrenched the curtains aside dramatically before I got very far.

  "You look terrible," Dad announced.

  Mum elbowed him in the ribs; after years of marriage she was still trying to teach him Australian etiquette. Dad was a middle-aged man with an Eastern European mindset that would never be swayed. His insults were born of honesty and a desire to improve me, while Mum was happy to let me be myself.

  "What?" Dad complained, as mum rushed forward to hug me.

  "Are you OK?" Mum asked, holding my face in her hands like I was a little kid.

  "I'm fine." I shrugged.

  "This is the boy?" Dad asked looking down at John. "He is handsome... too good for you; he will like your cousin Nadia better. She looks like him."

  "Thanks, Dad," I replied, sarcastically.

  "Paul!" Mum exclaimed, "your daughter is beautiful, and any boy would be honored to have her heart."

  "Yes, yes," Dad nodded, trying to avoid an argument, "you are beautiful Mya."

  "Thanks," I said playing along.

  The truth was that Dad thought I was smart, and that trumped pretty. Which was fortunate for me because in my Dad’s mind, pretty was a foreign country to me. When I was little I was his skinny, blonde-haired, brown-eyed doll. He doted on me. Everyone did; Jaimie and I were voted the most popular girls in pre-school.

  Then puberty hit. My straight blond hair turned into dishwater-colored waves. It wasn’t remarkably curly, or straight enough to brush-and-go in the morning. Ponytails were my staple hairstyle.

  While Jaimie consoled me that I was a dirty blonde, there was no consolation for the unwanted saddlebag hips or the mini doughnut around my middle. Puberty had kicked me in the guts, and I still hadn't recovered. I wasn't ugly, but beside Jaimie and the popular girls I was invisible. Dad didn't feel the need to sugarcoat that fact.

  Mum, on the other hand, thought I was the best thing since pushup bras. Somehow the two balanced each other out, so I wasn't an emotional wreck.... often.

  "He's a
cutey petuty, isn't he?" Mum observed, transfixed by John.

  "Sure is." Jaimie sighed dreamily.

  "Let's go, babe!" Tim demanded, impatiently.

  Jaimie tore herself away and hugged me. "Good work with saving him. We'll see you at school, Mya."

  Jaimie loved school, and school loved her. Mum was always encouraging me to be more involved with activities to build my popularity, but I was content in my mediocrity. I had a firm belief that after high school I would do something great with my life. That hope helped me rise above the cattiness of high school.

  After all, most people hated high school; it was the holding cell before adulthood freed us. I would see the world, write an international best-seller, meet Skylar Astin, who would fall madly in love with my brilliant mind, and I would live happily ever after. He was great in Pitch Perfect, and always seemed thoughtful in interviews. I had to daydream or die in crappy Geelong High.

  Mum snaked her arm around my waist, her eyes still on John, just like my Dad’s. “I’m glad you saved the boy…”

  “But?” I asked.

  “You scared us tonight,” Mum unburdened herself. “You did the right thing and I’m proud of you. Just try to think with your head as much as your heart; that’s all I ask.” That was the closest Mum came to criticism.

  I nodded to placate Mum. Exhausted and hungry, I was ready for soft pajamas and a hot drink. "Come, on guys, we should go home."

  I looked at John's still form; he could have dropped from heaven with a face like that.

  "Goodbye; get better," I told him with the intention of never seeing his golden locks or coral-colored lips again. I committed his features to memory, for a time when I would need a handsome hero for a novel. Even though I’d saved him, I knew that guys who looked like demigods didn’t waste time on lesser creatures like myself. He might send me a thank-you card, but the brief meeting of our lives was concluded.

  ***

  I stepped into the familiar front room littered with shoes, glad to be home. I dropped my bag beside the door, desperate for a warm shower to wash the sticky salt from my skin and hair. Dad had spent years trying to break me of the habit of leaving bags sitting beside the door; he had even put hooks on the wall to encourage neatness. But after the scare my parents had endured, he didn’t even bother to reprimand me.