12. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Lucy
W hen I was five years old, Grandpa Neil brought me out to a lake to help him catch brim. The day was sweltering; I wore my swimsuit though I hadn’t learned how to swim. Grandpa let me sit in the water on the bank so I could stay cool under the high July sun. He said if I caught a brim then I could also try holding a sparkler during Fourth of July celebrations that night. Determined, I cast out to the lake more times than I could count. On my last cast before we stopped for lunch, my hook got stuck on a mossy stump under the water right off the bank. Grandpa was busy transferring the fish he had caught from a line in the water to a bucket of water to transport back up the hill to his house. I didn’t want to bother him, so I thought I would untangle the hook myself. I had done it before with his supervision, and the hook was stuck just paces away. I would still be able to stand.
I set my pole down and began my journey out. The warm water caressed my skin as I took one step, two steps, three …
Suddenly, the mushy ground was no longer beneath me. Before I could even let out a shout, I was submerged under the brown, stinky water. It rushed into my nose, and I gulped in the lake as I attempted to call for help. I flailed my arms and kicked my feet, all to no avail. At one point I broke the surface and screamed, but I sank back under. My head became foggy and I could no longer breathe. My throat screamed for air but it never came. My world shifted from the dark brown of the water to black, and when I woke up, I was in a white, bright hospital room.
My throat burns as I cough up salty water, my head foggy with little recollection as to why I’m in so much pain. I try to sit up to get the water out of me, but I end up flat on my back with jutted pebbles or stones sticking into my back.
Is this a nightmare?
Will someone wake me up?
“Lucy! Oh, thank God. She’s breathing again,” a voice shouts near my ear. I want to shush the loud man; his booming voice worsens the pain in my head.
I cough again and feel water dribble down my chin. I’m turned onto my side as someone pats my back. They aren’t attempting to be gentle about it.
Can’t they see I’m in pain? My chest feels like it’s been crushed in .
“Open your eyes, Lucy May.” Stone. His familiar voice. The only one outside my online sphere who uses my author name. I’m placed onto my back once more.
I swallow, or at least I try to. It’s like sandpaper actively filing down the lining of my throat. Focusing all of my thoughts to my eyes, I command them silently to open as Stone asked me to. My lids begin to open as blazing bright light assaults my vision. Immediately, I revolt against his verbal command and my internal one.
If the sun seeks to ruin my sight if I open my eyes, I refuse.
The sun…
Stone.
The smell of a salty pool.
Water in my lungs…
I flutter my eyes open, and this time, I’m greeted with the silhouette of a human hovering over me, mercifully blocking out the intense rays.
Dripping wet dirty blond hair falls in front of anxious baby blue eyes as Stone’s face forms in my line of sight. His sharp jawline is clenched as he focuses every ounce of attention he has to offer onto me.
If I were writing this moment into a novel, I might note how he shines brighter than the sun…
But I think I almost drowned, and that’s why I’m coughing up salty pool water while lying on concrete, soaking wet at a wedding reception in Dasher Valley, Mississippi. The scene plays out before me: Stone was walking towards me, I was walking towards him, both of us wearing coy expressions. He shifted his eyes away from me for a millisecond, and when he looked back, he tried to tell me something as he held up an arm.
And then I was tumbling into the deep end of the saltwater pool, anxiety clenching me like a straightjacket, making it to where I could do nothing but succumb to the water filling my lungs.
Death almost felt like salvation, though. It was horridly easy to welcome it as a beloved friend to my lonely front doorstep.
“There you are,” he says in a whispered sigh as his head falls back and eyes close. His shoulders relax as he exhales; he looks as if he will crumble on top of me from his position on his knees at any given moment.
I try to reply with “here I am” but it comes out as if I’m speaking through a mouthful of gravel. Feels like it, too.
That snaps Stone back to attention after his moment of reprieve. He hollers for someone to bring a cup of water then arches my back as if I’m not over a hundred pounds and sopping wet. He slides an arm underneath me while cradling my head with his other hand. The burly man lifts me into a sitting position, his large hand flexed across my upper back to keep me from falling backwards.
Which is a life-saving action because my head is fuzzy and lightly spinning.
“Can you sit up on your own?”
I don’t attempt to answer verbally, opting instead to shake my head, which is a dumb move because now I feel like I’m a spinning top toy.
He adjusts himself into a seated position while still holding onto me. Stone spreads out his long legs and then tugs me backwards against him, letting me use his body as a solid place to land. Though he’s wet, he’s warmed from the heat of the sun. And it dawns on me…
He must have pulled me from the pool.
Stone Harper, my playboy boss, saved my life.
His sister, Stella, kneels down in front of me, offering me a glass of water. I reach out my hand to take it and quickly realize I won’t be able to hold it due to the ferocious shaking of my arm.
“Give it to me,” Stone demands. Stella hands him the glass then backs away to give us space. His ear brushes against mine as he leans forward. He brings the glass of water to my lips and tilts it only a fraction. I suck in the fresh, cool water, my throat burning and chest aching with every gulp, but I can’t stop. I’m like a woman withheld from water for days, and though it dribbles down my chin, Stone never pulls the cup away until I turn my head from the glass to indicate I’m finished.
“Better?” he asks in the most gentle, caring tone I’ve ever heard from him.
I take in a breath and prepare to try and speak again. “Yes,” I reply in a clear but gruff tone. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Stone lifts the cup of water to my lips again, and I finish it off while Stella brings another glass to us. This time, I’ve regained enough control of myself to hold it. I think I could also sit up on my own now, but to be honest, I very much enjoy being pressed against this man.
The man who saved me.
Great. Now I’ll have some damsel in distress complex when it comes to Stone Harper …
I roll my eyes and laugh to myself. The motion of laughter sends a pronounced wave of pain through my chest. “Did you… did you have to do CPR on me?”
Stone’s voice is hard, and I imagine his full lips pressed into a line. “Yes. You weren’t breathing. Thankfully, you spit the water out and came back to me after only seven compressions.”
“How long was I in the water?”
“Not long. It was probably fifteen seconds before I realized you weren’t coming back up. You didn’t even attempt to swim, Lucy.” He says that last statement like it personally offends him.
“I don’t know how,” I say, my voice cracking and throat scratching.
“Still. You could have tried to fight or something. You just… sank. Like the moment your body hit the water, you gave up.”
His words attack me, touching something that’s buried deep within me. I muster all the anger suddenly swirling within me and attempt to face him though my back is against his chest. “So what? I almost drowned, Stone! And you’re sitting here telling me what I should have done in that situation? This has happened to me before, you know? Have you ever heard of something called a trauma response? ‘Cause that’s what happened. I couldn’t fight.” I didn’t want to fight, I add, but only in my mind.
“Not here,” he orders against my ear.
I bite my tongue to keep from saying something childish like “you started it” because he’s right. I glance around at everyone staring at us and whispering. Some people wear concerned expressions while others look intrigued at our conversation. Those must be the small town gossipers of Dasher Valley. Every town has them .
“Can you take me home?” I ask, resigned and on the verge of crying.
“Like to Juniper Grove? I don’t think it’s wise to drive that far after you almost drowned.” There’s a touch of dark sarcasm in his voice, and that’s a version of him I’m familiar with. His concern over me and his anger over me not fighting to stay above water are two unknown languages I’m not ready to think about decoding.
“I’m fine,” I whine, but the fuzzy feeling that still remains in my head and the way my stomach is starting to churn speaks otherwise. “Okay, fine. Take me to your parent’s house.”
“I think I want to take you to the clinic.”
Stella walks over, offering a hand to me. I take it willingly, ready to get free of Stone. Funny how a bit of anger will transform your desires in a second.
“You want to take her to see Dr. Marlee Gaines?” Stella says in a voice that sounds a bit disgusted as she tugs me up. “She’d be better off going to Hattiesburg to the hospital.”
“Just because you and Marlee don’t get along doesn’t mean I should risk Lucy,” Stone barks out, standing behind me with his hands on my waist as he helps his sister hoist me up. My dress is clinging to every inch of my curves, and I feel naked in front of all these people.
Stone must notice this too because he shouts over his shoulder. “Bring me my jacket!”
Lucas walks over holding Stone’s black coat jacket and wraps it around me. I tell him thank you as Stone glares at his brother-in-law with disapproval.
“What? Isn’t that what you wanted it for?” Lucas asks .
Stone grumbles something about how it’s his job to place the jacket over me. Stella laughs and Lucas shrugs sheepishly as if the thought never crossed his mind. From the little conversation I’ve had with him, he seems like a good man who looks after those around him.
“Can we go now?” I whisper to Stone with a pleading look in my eyes. “Not to the doctor. Just take me back to Marian’s for now, please.”
He opens his mouth as if to protest, but he relents and places his large hands on my shoulders, guiding me through the whispering crowd of people. I wobble a little and contemplate taking my shoes off, but Stone stops us and picks me up bridal style. I immediately wrap my arms around his neck to keep steady while the once-whispering crowd erupts in applause as if we were the bride and groom of this shindig. My stomach flutters, but this time it’s not from feeling sick. It’s because the thought of me and my playboy boss tying the knot is as vivid an image as the visions that flickered across my thoughts when we first kissed last night. I itch to turn it all—the wedding night, the twin boys, the explosions and heat—into scenes within my stories.
They are visions I need to wash away in the shower when I get back to the house because they’re causing feelings I don’t want to have towards the man hauling me away from onlookers, tucked in his arms, the same way I imagine he emerged from the depths of the pool with me as he saved me.
He saved me.
The phrase repeats in my head as Stone opens the door of his truck while still holding onto me .
He saved me.
Stone sets me down in the seat and reaches over me to buckle me up. I smell the salt clinging to his drying hair.
He saved me.
After shutting the door, he walks around to the driver side and hops in, cranking the truck, which roars to life.
He saved me.
And for the first time in a while… I feel alive. Like maybe dying isn’t such a good idea after all.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Just kidding.