Chapter 7 The Accident
The Accident
Eliza
Saturday, early July
The interview went well. Better than well, actually.
Claire called it "impressive" and "exactly what the panel needed to see," and now I have a final interview scheduled for next Thursday.
If I don't mess it up, I could be back in the field by fall.
Real research. Real science. The life I put on hold eighteen months ago, finally within reach.
I should be focused on that. Instead I'm standing on the deck of Julian's yacht, watching the coastline slide past, trying to remember why I agreed to this trip.
Oh, right. Because Julian asked, and because things have been better since Wednesday, and because I wanted to believe that one good night could be the start of something real.
And then Margot showed up at the marina.
"The boundaries are limited," Julian had explained, his voice carefully neutral. "I've cut back on calls. But this trip was planned months ago, and canceling her invitation now would be..."
"I know." I'd cut him off before he could finish making excuses. "I remember."
So here we are. Julian, me, Margot, and Captain Medina at the helm, cruising along the Cape Avalon coastline toward the cove where we're supposed to anchor for the evening.
The water is rougher than expected, the boat pitching and rolling over swells that seem to come from nowhere, and I'm very glad Captain Medina insisted we all wear life jackets for this stretch.
Margot has positioned herself at the starboard rail, wind whipping her hair into an artful tangle, looking like something out of a sailing magazine. I've claimed the port side because the alternative was standing next to her, and I'd rather watch rocks than make small talk.
Julian is somewhere forward, talking to Captain Medina about the route. I can hear the low murmur of their conversation but not the words. The engine hums steadily beneath us, a constant vibration I can feel through the deck.
Things have been good this week. Really good.
Julian came home early on Thursday and Friday.
He asked about my presentation prep, listened to my answers, remembered details I mentioned in passing.
He laughed at my jokes and made me laugh at his, and when his phone rang during dinner on Thursday he let it go to voicemail without even checking who it was.
Maybe this trip will be fine. Maybe Margot will behave herself and Julian will keep choosing me and we'll anchor in the cove and watch the sunset and remember why we got married in the first place.
Maybe.
The boat lurches suddenly, harder than the normal swell, and I grab the rail to steady myself. Captain Medina's voice rises sharply. "Current's pushing us. I'm correcting."
The engine note changes. I feel the deck shift beneath my feet as we turn, trying to compensate for whatever the water is doing to us. The rocky headland to our left looks closer than it should be, dark stone rising from churning water, and something cold settles in my stomach.
"Julian?" I call out, but the wind takes my voice.
And then everything happens at once.
The impact throws me against the port rail. A horrible grinding sound rips through the hull, metal on stone, and the world tilts violently to starboard. My hip hits the rail, and I pitch over it before I can catch hold again.
I hear screaming. It might be me. It might be Margot. The sky spins overhead, blue and white and terrifying, and then I'm falling, and then I'm in the water.
Cold. So cold. The shock of it drives the air from my lungs and I thrash instinctively, panic overwhelming everything else. My life jacket holds me up, forcing my head above the surface, but the waves are rougher than they looked from the deck and I keep getting slapped in the face with spray.
The yacht looms above me, listing badly to starboard, her hull scraping against something I can't see. I'm on the port side, pushed away from the boat by the same current that drove us onto the rocks. Captain Medina is shouting something into a radio. I can't see Julian.
I can't see Julian.
"Julian!" The wind steals his name from my mouth. "JULIAN!"
The stern swings toward me as the yacht shifts, and I paddle frantically backward to avoid being crushed. For a brief moment I can see past the listing hull to the other side of the boat, and there's Margot in the water, her blonde hair dark with seawater, struggling despite her life jacket.
Our eyes meet across the chaos.
Something passes between us, some recognition I can't name. Then the current drags me away from the stern and I lose sight of her, the hull blocking everything on the starboard side.
My wrist is screaming. I must have hit it on something during the fall, the rail maybe, and every stroke sends pain shooting up my arm. My ribs ache when I breathe. The jacket is keeping me up. I need to stay away from the hull.
Where is Julian?
I paddle around the stern, trying to see the other side of the boat, but the current keeps pushing me back.
The yacht's engines are silent now, either cut deliberately or killed by the impact, and the relative quiet makes everything feel even more surreal.
Waves slap against the damaged hull. Somewhere a seabird cries.
A boat appears around the headland. Small, fast, heading toward us. The visiting tender Captain Medina said would meet us at the cove. They'll help us. They'll find Julian.
I manage to work my way along the port side, the listing hull providing some shelter from the worst of the waves, until I can see past the stern to the open water beyond. The tender is closer now, maybe a hundred yards out, and there are people on deck pointing toward the yacht.
And there's Julian.
He's in the water on the starboard side, swimming hard, towing someone behind him. Margot. He's pulling her toward the approaching tender, his strokes powerful and sure despite the chaos.
He's saving her.
He's saving her and I'm over here, on the other side of the boat, alone.
"Julian!" I scream his name until my throat burns. "JULIAN, I'M HERE!"
He doesn't turn. The wind takes my voice, or the tender's engine drowns it out, or he simply can't hear over the splash of his own swimming. He keeps moving toward the boat, toward safety, Margot's arm over his shoulder.
I watch my husband swim away from me. All week, I thought he was finally seeing me again. Please, Julian. Look this way.
The tender reaches them. Hands reach down to pull Margot aboard. Julian hauls himself up after her, and I see him turn immediately, see him scanning the water, see him pointing back toward the yacht.