Chapter Twenty-Four
The fuzzy silence is almost peaceful and then hands close around my upper arms and wrench me towards the surface.
My head surges into the light and I splutter and gasp at the air.
I dip down and my mouth floods full of salty water.
Then hands pull me upwards again and I swallow the foul water and take another gasp of air.
‘Ellie!’ The voice is faint at first. ‘Ellie!’
My ears are full of water and it’s difficult to hear anything over the crashing of the sea against my head.
‘Ellie. Kick.’
The familiarity of the voice pries my eyes open.
Jackson is in front of me. Close enough to touch.
Panic surges through me and I grab for him.
My fingers graze his T-shirt and, encouraged, I lunge my arm at him and clutch the fabric in desperation.
Using that as leverage, I manage to get a hand to his shoulder and press down to raise my mouth clear of the water.
It works for a split second and then we both sink below the rolling waves again and my hair swirls around me in slow motion, covering my face.
When we come back up, his voice is clearer, or I’m more tuned in, I’m not sure which.
‘Ellie. Kick.’ There’s a pause as his mouth dips below the waterline. As it re-emerges, he takes a lungful of air and continues to talk. ‘If you grab me, we’ll both go down. Kick.’
I want to tell him I can’t swim. I haven’t done in years because when Dad taught me, he scared me half to death. But that number of words seems insurmountable when it’s taking me all my time to gasp for air. I stare at him wildly instead.
I haven’t uttered a word, but I don’t have to. He knows me. ‘I know you’re scared.’ He takes another gulp of air. ‘But you’ll remember.’
My brain is frozen, but my legs respond to his panted words and find a life of their own.
‘You can do this. I believe in you.’
I clutch his outstretched arm and then screw my eyes tight shut and kick.
His words repeat in my head and I kick again, putting as much power into them as I can muster even though the water feels like treacle.
I have to tell myself to breathe. The water continually splashes my face and ends up in my mouth as I mistime my attempts to gasp at air, and in turn, I lose the rhythm of my legs and dip below the water again.
I thrash my legs with the lousy energy that I have left, but it’s enough to bob me back up as Jackson continues to tow me in.
‘You can put your feet down now,’ he says, his voice still strained.
My fingers tighten around his arm and I open my eyes to plead with him. ‘I can’t.’ My voice is hoarse and my throat burns, panic shrouding me like a cloak.
‘Try.’ Every trace of stress has gone from him now and his eyes crinkle up in a smile.
I drop my legs a tiny fraction and my knees thump into the sandy seabed.
Relief and shock splinter through me and I put one palm flat down, the other still clinging to him for safety.
My head stays out of the water, my mouth clear of the poison that is the sea.
I push myself up and sit back with my bottom resting on my heels.
The water laps around my waist and my chest heaves as my blouse is heavy and wrinkled and stuck to me.
Every breath is sending a sharp pain shooting across my rib cage.
I’ve still got Jackson’s arm in a vice grip and a laugh bubbles up out of me. I have no idea why, because nothing about this is in any way remotely funny, but the hysterical laugh comes from the deepest part of me and before I can stop it, it morphs into a cry.
Jackson pulls me away from the shallow water and further up the beach where the waves can’t reach us. We collapse on the sand and he shifts so he can pull me onto his knee. My body shudders with the cold and he wraps his arms around me.
‘I thought I was going to die.’ My breath is coming in gasps and my chest still has a vice grip around it.
‘You nearly did. What the hell were you doing in the sea, Ellie? Especially in weather like this. You were going to get yourself killed.’
Almost as if the weather agrees with him, there’s a low rumble of thunder to add to the rain that stings as it’s whipped into my face by the wind.
I’m shuddering from head to toe and I’m freezing.
Jackson pushes my dripping-wet hair away from my eyes so we can look at each other and my insides jolt at his gentle touch.
‘I’m sorry,’ I stutter. My teeth are clashing together so hard I’m trying to avoid biting my tongue. ‘I tried to save her. I couldn’t reach her.’ I close my eyes at the memory of Tippi’s wiry fur brushing against my fingertips.
‘Who? What are you talking about?’
‘Tippi.’ I choke back another sob. ‘I tried to grab her before she went in, but I missed and …’
‘God, Ellie.’ He squeezes me, his arms tightening around me. ‘She’s here.’ He rocks us both to the left and I look. The little black dog is standing there, her tail up and head tilted as she studies us.
‘But how?’ My voice pitches in surprise. ‘I saw her go under.’
‘She’s great in the sea and three legs obviously doesn’t hinder her.
’ He presses his face into my hair and kisses my temple.
‘You were insane going into the sea in this weather to go after Tippi. But thank you.’ He folds himself around me and we sit in silence as the wind whips around us and the rain continues to pour.
I’m not sure how I feel about his touch. Part of me yearns for it and I want to press myself into him, so we become one. The other half of me doesn’t want this to be the last time and when he’s over the fright I gave him, he’ll revert to despising me and I don’t want to be here when that happens.
I push myself free of his arms and stiffly wobble to my feet.
‘Can you manage?’ he says, getting to his feet a lot more elegantly.
‘Yes.’ I nod, but as soon as I take a step, my legs buckle under me and Jackson has to catch me before I hit the sand.
‘Obviously not,’ he says gently and puts an arm around my waist and one under my knee and scoops me up against his chest.
His body is solid, but he’s as wet and cold as me, so there’s no warmth in his embrace.
‘You can’t carry me all the way home,’ I mutter into his chest. ‘I’m too heavy.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ He begins walking, carrying me with ease.
My legs are too weak to get me anywhere under my own steam and for now, I’m at his mercy. I close my eyes in resignation and give into the rolling rhythm of his strides.
I must have zoned out, because he stops walking a lot quicker than I’d expected.
He puts me down gently in front of my front door and his hands hover around me as if he’s expecting me to crash to the floor again.
I plant my feet to get my balance and my whole body shakes without him to steady me, but I stay upright.
Jackson opens the door and Tippi has no hesitations in trotting straight in before both of us. I follow her and Jackson shuts the door behind us. He ushers me to sit down at the kitchen table while Tippi hops up onto my couch and lies down. I’m shuddering from head to toe and I’m freezing.
‘I’m going to find you something to change into.’
The rain is coming down as hard as ever, splattering off the windowpanes, and the room feels dark and gloomy. He comes back, his arms full of towels and clothes that he puts on the table.
‘Take your clothes off,’ he says, pulling me to my feet. ‘You’re freezing.’ He picks up a towel, ready to hand it to me.
My brain is dazed and on automatic pilot and I try to open my buttons, but my fingers are numb and stiff and I can’t get them to work properly.
‘Here.’ He loops the towel over his arm and methodically opens the buttons down the front of my blouse. He peels the scarlet sopping fabric off my shoulders and down my arms. Once it’s off, he flings it into the sink where it lands with a plop in a soggy mess.
I wrap my arms around myself again. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m embarrassed standing here in my bra or whether it’s a survival tactic because I’m so cold.
He reaches behind me and the breath catches in the back of my throat.
His arms are wrapped around my body and his chest is millimetres from my nose.
I strain to stay perfectly still as he deftly undoes my bra.
In different circumstances, I’d have been impressed at how he managed it with such ease.
But right now, all I can think of is that I’m going to be standing here, top half naked in the middle of my kitchen.
I don’t know why I’m worried because Jackson is telepathically on my wavelength.
He leaves the undone bra on me and holds up the huge beach towel as a shield.
I take my bra off and he wraps me in the towel.
It’s stiff and scratchy, but it has a lovely fresh smell of washing powder and I hug it to myself.
He crouches at my feet and undoes my jeans button and then turns away.
‘Take your jeans and knickers off and you can put these on.’ He puts the grey jogging bottoms, sweatshirt, and a maroon T-shirt down next to me. ‘Don’t suppose you’ll have anything that’d fit me?’
I frown. ‘I don’t know.’ The words set me off coughing. My throat is scratchy and dry and my stomach still queasy from all the salt water.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll find something. Dry yourself off.’
He goes back into my bedroom in search of clothes, and I struggle to get out of the rest of my clothes.
They stick to me as I try to shed them and as I peel my jeans and knickers down, goosebumps appear on my bare skin.
Once off, I kick them towards the sink and they skid across the tiled floor, leaving a slug-like trail behind them.
I pull my towel even tighter around me to stave off the cold.
Jackson comes back into the room and a smile springs to my face. He’s found my oversized Snoopy nightshirt which reaches my knees, but just skirts his hips, and a pair of purple towelling shorts which don’t leave anything to the imagination.
‘I wouldn’t be going to the pub in them,’ I say, trying to joke.
He does a twirl. ‘Do they suit me?’
‘Definitely. You’ll have women running after you.’ I chuckle, then my whole body shakes.
‘You’re going to end up ill.’ He begins rubbing my arms through the towel as I keep it clutched to me. When I’m dry, he holds out the jogging bottoms for me to step into and I wiggle them up.
He motions towards my hands. ‘Can I?’ His eyes are soft and searching my face.
I loosen my hold on the towel and he takes it and then holds out the T-shirt for me to put my arms into.
I pull it down my body, the dry fabric catching on my still-damp skin.
My persistent shivering has lessened to the odd shudder now.
I put the sweatshirt on and sit back on the kitchen chair.
Jackson uses the towel to tenderly rub my hair to stop the drips from showering my dry clothes.
When he’s done, he steps back and sits on the chair next to me. The levity has escaped from the room and it’s oozing tension now. Jackson wraps his fingers around the wooden chair edge and we look at each other, neither of us sure of what comes next.