Chapter 10 – Haley
Saturday morning, I go with Melissa to the cafeteria for breakfast. We sit together next to a window that overlooks a wildflower garden filled with birds and squirrels. We sit in silence, both of us content to eat and watch the entertainment outside.
“So what are you plans for today?” Melissa asks when we’re done with our meals.
“I’m not sure. I’m getting together with Philip this afternoon, but we haven’t made any specific plans yet.”
“How are your courses going?”
“Good. I’m especially enjoying my Brit lit course, as it gives me an excuse to read my favorite books all over again.”
She grins. “Don’t tell me. You’re in love with Mr. Darcy, too.”
“True. And Mr. Rochester.”
She nods. “Jane Eyre. I’ve read it a million times, and I’ve seen several movie adaptations. The best version, hands down, is the one with Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson.”
“Oh, my God, yes! He makes a fantastic Mr. Rochester. We must be soul sisters.”
Melissa smiles. “Sisters from different misters.”
We head back to our room, and Melissa changes into workout clothes because she has track practice in half an hour.
I text Philip.
Me – Good morning.
Philip – hey babe. how are u
Me – Good.
Philip – can I call you
Me – Sure
A moment later, my phone rings.
“Hey, you,” I say to Philip. Just talking to him puts a smile on my face.
“Hi, yourself.” His deep voice resonates through me. “So, what do you want to do today?”
“I was thinking we could go to Millner Beach, if you don’t mind. It’s almost the end of August already, and I’ve hardly had a chance to swim all summer. Time’s running out.”
“Sure. And afterward, we can have dinner somewhere on the Riverwalk. What time should I pick you up?”
“I have some homework I need to do this morning so how about one?”
“I’ll be there.” He pauses. “Will you be wearing a one piece or a bikini?”
“A one piece.” I laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
He mock-groans. “Seriously, babe, it doesn’t matter what you wear. You could wear a burlap sack to the beach, and I’ll still think you’re gorgeous.”
* * *
After Melissa heads out for her track practice, I have the room to myself. I get comfy on my bed and crack open my US history textbook. We have our first quiz on Monday.
Philip texts me at a quarter ’til one.
Philip – just arrived coming up
Five minutes later, there’s a knock on my door.
I hop up to let Philip in, and when I open the door, he’s standing there holding a bouquet of flowers in a glass vase—lavender, baby’s breath, and pale purple roses. “I thought these might brighten up your room.”
First the books, and now flowers? What did I do to deserve such attention?
I take the vase from him, stick my nose in the flowers, and inhale deeply. The lavender smells heavenly. “They’re beautiful.” I go up on my tippy toes to kiss him, and he meets me halfway. “Thank you.”
I notice Philip is wearing navy blue board shorts, a sleeveless gray tank, and a pair of old leather loafers. He’s carrying a bag over his shoulder, which I presume includes a change of clothes and a swim towel.
“Shoot!” I say. “I lost track of time. Just let me get my swimsuit on underneath my clothes, and we can go.”
I set the vase of flowers on my desk and then slip into my closet to change. I come out with my swimsuit beneath my shorts and T-shirt and sandals on my feet.
“I’ll take that,” he says as he reaches for my beach bag.
We head downstairs to the lobby, and as we’re crossing the open space, heading toward the door, I notice Mark Hoffman seated in the community room with some of the students in our chemistry lab. They’re probably studying for our first chem test next week.
Mark’s dark gaze follows me as I cross the lobby.
Philip opens the front door for me, and we walk outside.
“Did you see the way that guy was watching you?” Philip asks.
“Yes.” I jog down the steps to the sidewalk. I’m tempted to tell him it’s not the first time Mark has done that, but I don’t want to ruin our outing by thinking about Mark.
Philip reaches for my hand. “So, do you want to drive or walk to the beach?”
I gaze up at a clear blue sky, thinking it’s a perfect day to go to the beach. “Let’s walk. I could use the exercise, and it’s not that far.”
“Okay, walking it is.”
* * *
It’s a twenty-minute walk to the beach, and fortunately the weather is ideal. It’s warm but not boiling hot. The sun is out, but there’s a breeze coming off the lake, which keeps the day from becoming too humid.
The public beach is crowded, but that’s not a surprise. We pass a wooden sign that says:
NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY.
SWIM AT YOUR OWN RISK.
“You can swim, can’t you?” I ask Philip.
He grins at me. “Yes, I can swim.”
“Good, because I don’t want to have to save you from drowning. I’m not planning to get my hair wet.”
Summer is winding down, and like me, people are realizing they should get in the water now while they still can. Lake Michigan is cold pretty much all year around, so I don’t plan to go out in deep water. I’ll be happy with just getting my feet wet.
We find a spot on the beach to spread out our towels. I slip off my shorts and T-shirt, leaving me in a purple floral one-piece swimsuit.
Philip does the same, kicking off his loafers and losing his tank.
Once he’s shirtless, I find myself staring at his broad chest. I know it’s a cliché, but his body really does look like a Greek sculpture—a broad chest and shoulders, well-defined muscles.
There’s a light smattering of brown hair on his chest, which narrows down to a happy trail that travels below his navel and disappears beneath his waistband.
His board shorts ride low on his hips, and the sight of him makes my knees go weak.
He must realize I’m ogling him, because he smiles as he gestures to the water. “Shall we?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I pull a bottle of sunscreen out of my beach bag.
“I usually don’t bother with that stuff.”
“I’ll tell you what. If you let me put sunscreen on you, I’ll let you put it on me.”
That gets his attention really quick. “Deal.”
I gesture to his beach towel. “You have to sit down for this. You’re too tall for me to reach all your places if you’re standing up.”
He grins but refrains from saying what I’m sure he’s thinking—that I can reach the spot he’d like me to touch just fine. But he doesn’t say it. He’s a gentleman.
I spread sunscreen on his back, arms, shoulders, the back of his neck. I ask him to turn, and I spread it lightly on his face, chest, and abs. I’m about to start on his legs, but he draws the line there.
“My legs are tan already,” he says. “I think we can skip that.” Grinning, he holds out his hand for the sunscreen. “Now it’s my turn.”
I hand the bottle over, and he climbs to his feet. I stand in front of him and hold up my ponytail so it doesn’t get goop on it.
Philip takes great pains to cover every inch of my exposed skin, including my legs, with sunscreen. “This is where a bikini would have come in nice,” he mutters.
After he’s done with my body, he gingerly spreads sunscreen on my face, taking his time like he’s fingerpainting a masterpiece.
“Okay, I think that’s enough.” Laughing, I swipe the bottle of sunscreen from him and pop it back into my beach bag.
We walk down to the surf and let the water wash over our feet.
I jump back. “Oooh! It’s always colder than I remember.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm,” he says as he wades out waist deep in the water. “Come on in, babe. The water’s fine!”
“That’s what they all say before a shark bites off someone’s arm.”
He laughs. “Hale, this is a freshwater lake. There are no sharks.” Then he starts coming toward me with a determined look on his face.
For a moment, all I can do is admire his physique. He’s so tall, and every inch of him is hard and thick and muscular.
I quickly realize I’m in trouble now because I was so distracted by his body that I failed to realize he’s within striking range. Before I can get away, he lifts me up and lays me over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“Philip, no!” I squeal as he heads back into the water. “It’s too cold.”
But he ignores me, and soon the water is up to his waist.
“Philip?” I use the sweetest, most cajoling voice I can muster.
“Yes, dear?” He answers just as sweetly.
“Please put me down.”
“Okay.” And then he proceeds to slowly lower me off his shoulder.
“Not in the water! On the beach, you goofball.”
“Ohhh.” He returns me to my perch on his shoulders, which tower over the water. At least I’m out of harm’s way. “How about a shoulder ride?”
“I’m too heavy. You’ll hurt your back.”
He laughs as he shifts me so that I’m sitting on his shoulders. Now I’m towering above everyone at the beach. I grasp his head and hold on tight until I catch my balance.
A cool breeze ruffles my hair and makes me shiver.
“You know, Hale,” he says with a chuckle, “if the water’s too cold, we can just go back to my apartment building and swim in the pool there. The water is heated. There’s a sauna, too.”
“Oh, that sounds heavenly. I vote we—”
Suddenly, we hear screaming. Shrill, terrified screaming.
Philip clamps his hands down hard on my shins, securing me in place, as he turns to seek out the source of the commotion.
We both spot it instantly. A middle-aged woman is standing waist deep in the water, pointing out into the lake. About thirty feet out, someone is struggling violently in the water, thrashing their arms frantically. We’re too far away to see the person clearly.
“Help him!” the woman screams as she clutches her hair. “Someone, please! Help my son!” She takes a step farther out, sinking deeper into the water, but then she takes several steps back onto the beach. “Please help him! I can’t swim!”
I watch, horrified, as the person’s head bobs once, twice, and then disappears from view. The water suddenly goes still.
“Shit!” Philip wades back to the shore as fast as he can and sets me on my feet. Then, he takes off running down the beach, heading toward the distraught woman, who’s crying hysterically as she points out into the lake.
Philip runs into the surf a ways before he dives into the water, and I watch, stunned, as he swims out to the spot where we last saw the kid struggling. My stomach knots when I see there’s still no sign of the boy.
Philip dives once more, straight down this time, and disappears from sight.
My heart seizes, and my chest tightens. My pulse takes off as fear chokes me. I stare fixedly at the spot where I saw Philip disappear beneath the water’s surface.
Oh, my God, this can’t be happening.
As I make my way down the beach toward the woman, I continue to watch the surface of the water, staring with burning eyes and counting the seconds he’s underwater.
Philip! He’s been down there too long!
I cover my mouth and try to hold back my sobs. The poor mother is wailing. An older couple stands with her, attempting to console her. A small crowd gathers around and stares at the spot where we last saw Philip.
There’s no sign of either of them.
My knees give out, and I drop to the sand, oblivious to the cold surf lapping at my thighs.
How could this have happened?
One minute we were having fun, and then—
Someone begins shouting. “There he is!”
“Do you see the kid?” someone else yells.
“No, I can’t—wait! Yes, he’s got the kid.”
I don’t even realize I’m crying until I have to brush my tears so I can see.
Philip is swimming back to shore, one arm plowing powerfully through the water, while his other arm is wrapped around the boy, who’s floating face up behind him. He’s towing the kid to shore.
I try to stand, to run toward him, but my legs are so numb I remain kneeling where I am, my knees digging into the cold, wet sand.
By the time Philip reaches the beach, carrying the still body of what looks to be a teenage boy, I finally manage to get to my feet and run to him.
When I reach them, Philip is hunched over the boy’s body where it lies on the sand. He tilts the kid’s head back and listens for air coming out of his mouth.
“He’s not breathing,” he says. Philip gives the kid two quick breaths, and then he checks him for a pulse. “No pulse.” Moving into position, he begins chest compressions. “Someone, call 911!”
“I already did,” a male bystander says. “A squad is coming.”
The boy’s mother stands in shock as she stares down at her lifeless child. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Please!”
I took a first aid class in high school, and we learned CPR, so I kneel on the other side of the boy. “I can help.”
Philip nods curtly. “Count for me. One-two-three-four—like that.”
“One-two-three-four-five—”
An older blonde woman in a bright orange bikini drops onto the sand beside me and tilts the boy’s head back. “I’m a trauma nurse,” she says matter-of-factly. She opens the boy’s mouth and peers inside.
It’s obvious she knows what she’s doing, so I move out of the way and let the two of them work together.
Philip does the compressions, and the nurse handles the breathing.
And all the while, the kid’s mother stands a few feet away and wails.
Philip and the nurse continue without faltering.
An older woman with short, gray hair walks up to Philip and taps him on his shoulder. “I’m an ER doctor. I’ll take over.”
Philip rises shakily to his feet and stumbles back. He rests his hands on his hips and sucks in deep breaths. When he spots me, he holds out his arms, and I run to him.
I can’t speak past the knot in my throat. I just cry, and Philip holds me, his warm palm rubbing my back.
Suddenly, the boy begins to cough up water. The doctor rolls him onto his side so he doesn’t choke.
“Mom?” the boy cries weakly as he continues to cough.
“I’m right here, honey,” his mother says as she moves into his line of sight. “I’m right here.”
I feel Philip’s lips in my hair. “He’s okay.”
I sag with relief, and a moment later I hear the sound of approaching sirens.
The nurse comes up to Philip and pats his back. “Good work. You saved that kid’s life. How did you learn to swim like that?”
“I worked as a lifeguard in high school.”
The woman rubs his upper arm. “Well, you’re quite the hero today, young man.” She smiles at me. “And you’re a very lucky young woman.”