Chapter 12 Sophia #2
I felt anxiety from the earthquake but couldn't figure out why. It was tiny, it was over, but my intuition screamed at me that I should be worried. As I closed my eyes, I realized why. The air was still, the seagulls were gone, and the waves were quiet, mostly. My eyes shot open.
Emma giggled then said “I bet when Henry felt the earthquake he—” A roar of water washed over us in an instant.
I tried to push myself up, but the weight of the rushing water held me under and pushed me forward.
I don’t know how many times I tumbled under the wave, but before I knew it, it was receding.
It had only been a few feet of water, but the force of it was overwhelming.
I sputtered, my eyes stinging from the saltwater.
I rolled over onto my stomach and pushed myself up from the soaked sand.
“Are you okay, Emma?” I wiped my eyes and looked around despite the stinging pain.
I took in my new surroundings. Emma was gone.
I spun around and found her near the water, missing her top, struggling to her feet.
The wave had pushed us both forward, but on its return had dragged her out.
Her purse and our belongings were being pulled by the remaining water still returning to the ocean.
She threw her hands up to her head, processing the new reality around us, and began running in circles after our things.
Her wet hair stuck to her face in matted clumps.
Our paint supplies were scattered all around us, kicked about by the unexpected surge of water.
The canvases nowhere to be seen and surely ruined.
“Emma!” I screamed. “Leave the stuff! Let’s go.”
She looked back and yelled, “I need my bag!” as if that was what was important right now.
She didn’t seem to realize she also needed her top.
I watched, terrified, as she made her way into the water, retrieving her bag.
She grabbed it and made her way back toward the sand, her chest rising and falling heavily as she caught her breath, taking big steps through the still, hip high water.
Just as suddenly as before, a wave came out of nowhere and crashed behind her.
Emma turned, saw it, and tried to run, but it was too late.
The force of the water knocked her over.
When she reappeared, she was further out than before.
I hesitated for a moment, I didn’t know what to do, then the earth moved beneath my feet in a blur as I ran toward her.
I thought I was running fast until a force of nature flew past me across the sand.
He moved with incredible speed, unaffected by the rushing water.
The current was still pulling her away from the shore.
The man plunged into the water, not hesitating to get to her before the ocean could pull her out any further.
His movements were powerful and swift as he waded through the water with ease, reaching her in moments.
Despite all of this, she clung to her bag as if it were a lifeline.
Her wide and frantic eyes found the man coming to save her.
She threw her arms over his shoulders as he reached out for her, trusting he could save her.
He wrapped his arm around Emma's waist with an iron grip, pulling her close against him as he maneuvered through the water, his wet hair covering most of his face.
I watched with horror as another large wave formed out of nowhere and crashed around them.
Water sprayed out around his muscular form; his soaked hair whipping forward, concealing his face, revealing only his grimace from the effort to stand.
But he remained standing, holding Emma in front of him.
I braced myself as water rushed across the sand and rose to my knees.
My heart pounded in my chest as I watched them make it out of the water, my gaze locked on Emma's as she fought to hang on to him.
My weak legs could barely manage, but I ran with them toward the boardwalk.
He lowered her onto the wooden path. Her breath coming out in wheezes, her body trembling from the shock and exertion.
I dropped beside Emma, pulling her into my arms while barely holding back tears.
“You stupid idiot," I hissed at her, my voice choked with emotion. "You could have died for that stupid purse.” Tears fell down my cheeks.
“I don’t want to paint at the beach next time,” she said before covering her chest and coughing more.
I hugged her for a long time, then looked up at the man who saved her.
He wore only a pair of jeans; his bare chest glistened as it rose and fell.
Carved in sunlight, his body was a statue of perfectly defined muscles.
He ran a hand through his dark, wet hair, pushing it back and out of his face, revealing the chiseled lines and strong angles of his face.
“Gabriel?” I said, shocked.
“Let’s get you two inside.” He held me in his deep blue eyes, then helped Emma to her feet. Never once looking at her exposed chest.
“Inside? What?” I ask incredulously.
He pointed, Thats my house, there, I was on my porch, eating, watching the ocean, I saw the whole thing. Do I need to lend you some clothes again?” He asked with a subtle smile.
“We have a change of clothes in Emma's car.”
“Ok, well, follow me.”