Chapter 41
Ella shrieked as she was plunged into the water, then gasped and choked as the frigid sea hit her in the face.
She inhaled a ragged breath, then another, and kicked her legs hard.
The life vest chafed her chin, and her clothes were dead weight.
She gagged at the taste of the salt water.
The rain pummeled her and pockmarked the water, waves swarming around her.
She knew their body temperature would drop with each tick of the clock, and she wondered how long they’d survive before freezing to death.
She didn’t know, but she’d have to keep moving.
Salt water blurred her vision and fear blurred her mind as her body rose and fell with the waves.
Was this how her mother died—swept out to sea, alone and afraid, her skin turning blue and her heart shutting down?
Or maybe it all happened so quickly that Sara felt nothing, knew nothing.
Ella was terrified and wondered where Leif was.
She scissor-kicked and tried to rise high enough to locate him, but a wave broke over her head, blinding her for moments that seemed like hours.
She inhaled water and coughed as it streamed from her nose.
She kicked harder and dug in her arms and swam with all her strength.
Riding a swell just high enough to scan the waves, she saw Leif treading water six feet away.
Blood seeped from a gash on his head, and the water washed it away, but more blood trickled out behind it.
At least he was alive. When she was close enough, she reached out to grip his sleeve, but the swells caught her and pushed her back.
He treaded water with one arm; the other hung at his side.
As he struggled to keep his head above the surface, a wave broke against him.
He gagged and coughed, then retched into the water.
He fought to swim to her, clawing through the water with his one good arm.
She saw that his nose was swollen, a purple lump was rising from his forehead, and the bloody gash that stretched across his hairline went down to the bone.
Her fear turned to determination, and she stretched out her arm and managed to grab his shirt. They treaded water together, and he tried to hold his chin above the waves but kept sucking in salt water and gagging. Ella tightened her grip on him.
“Go to the boat,” Leif said with a raspy voice.
It had settled belly-up near them. His wrist was swollen and blue, and he was clenching his jaw in pain.
She wasn’t going without him, and she didn’t think he could swim on his own.
She dragged him through the water, fighting to hold on to him and keep them afloat at the same time.
She had long lost her shoes. She kicked out furiously, taking gasping breaths.
Inches from the boat, a wave carried them beyond the stern.
As Ella struggled back against the current, a crest exploded over their heads.
Both of them sputtered, rising and falling on the whitecaps.
She kicked harder, but the tide grabbed her and smacked her against Skadi’s hull, hard enough to hurt her. She was too cold to feel it.
She dug her arm into the raging sea again and inched forward.
Swimming another foot to the boat, she grasped the beveled planks with one hand and hooked her arm through Leif’s, leaving her other hand free to seize the mooring line.
She fed it through her life vest and then clenched her fist around it, doing her best to keep his head above the swells.
She felt that she was slipping in and out of consciousness, and she noticed that Leif couldn’t stay alert either.
But she managed to hold on to him and the rope, despite the current that threatened to rip them apart.
Her teeth were chattering so hard she was afraid she’d bite off her tongue.
But in this terrifying situation, shivering was a good thing; it meant she was alive.
She knew this from winters in the mountains.
Blood continued to stream down Leif’s face.
She glanced around at the sharp, white-tipped waves.
Were those shark fins slicing through the swells?
Panic bit at her and her breath grew ragged.
She glanced over one shoulder then the other: There were no dorsal fins, but no signs of relief either.
She wondered if she was hallucinating from the cold and the trauma.
“Are there sharks here?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Her gaze darted.
“Not dangerous. Just plankton feeders.”
Her clothes were weighing her down, and with the rope gripped in her hand, she struggled to unbutton her jeans.
“Stop. Conserve energy,” Leif said, slurring his words.
“It’s harder to swim with them on.”
“Insulation. And I’m wearing blue for Odin.”
That made no sense, and she knew that Leif was out of it. She knew it was up to her, or maybe to someone higher. Ella prayed to the heavens and then to Njord, god of the sea. You took our parents. Please don’t take Leif.
“Quit staring. I hit my forehead,” Leif slurred again. She watched his eyes roll back in his head.
She shook him. “Talk to me! Stay awake! What about your arm?”
“Don’t know,” he said with great effort.
“OK, just don’t sleep!” Her limbs were cold and stiff, but she kept a firm grip on him and the rope.
The rain had turned to drizzle, which should have been a relief, but the wind kept shoving the waves, which were pushing and pulling at the two of them, trying hard to carry them out to sea.
A cramp jabbed her under the ribs, and it took all her willpower to maintain her grip on Leif and the boat.
There was no telling how much time had passed.
Was it minutes or hours? And she certainly didn’t know how much longer they had left. She kissed Leif’s cold, wet head.
“I’m knackered,” Leif said in a faint voice. Then he dry-heaved.
“Hold on a little longer.” Ella’s jaw was numb. It was a challenge to speak. She felt her vocal cords locking up. Leif closed his eyes. “Everything will be OK. Someone will rescue us.” She could barely see over the waves, so how could anyone possibly see them?
“My head is numb. Can’t move my legs.” As Leif spoke these words, he laid his head on her shoulder. She could hear that his breathing was shallow.
Why hadn’t she told him she loved him, or even admitted it to herself? She didn’t ever want to leave him. Ever.
“Don’t you dare give up! Do you hear me?” she shouted in desperation.
“There are bees in my ears.”
“Stay with me!” she pleaded.
“Make them go away.” Leif’s lips were blue.
“Stay with me. I love you!”
He closed his eyes.
“Wake up!” She shook him as hard as she could. “I can’t lose you!”
He stopped shivering. The wind scooped up the sea around her and threw it back at her. Ella didn’t know whether it was tears or salt spray that stung her eyes. She shook Leif again.
“You must hang on. We’re going to get out of this! I want to be together. I promise to learn to steer a boat.” She coughed again and spit out the brine. “I’ll eat fishy soup. I’ll make those throw pillows for the bedrooms. Bright and cheerful. You’ll love them. You’ll see.”
Silence. This time it wasn’t the water that made her choke.
“Do you hear me? I love you. We can do this!” Her hands were so cold they burned. She knew that soon, she wouldn’t be able to hold on to him or the boat.
Ella thought she heard an engine. She craned her stiff neck to search, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.
She thumped the side of her head to dislodge the water, and her breath sounded distorted to her.
She must be hallucinating. She was probably mistaking a flock of honking geese for the sound of an engine.
Maybe it was the same droning of bees that Leif had thought he heard.
She kept listening over the hissing wind.
Waves slapped against the boat; her limbs felt leaden.
She thought she would close her eyes, just for a moment, to rest.
A deep drumming pulsed through the water. She was dreaming but knew that soon she would wake up safe in her bed, her cheek on Leif’s chest.
The noise grew louder. Ella cracked open her swollen eyelids and allowed herself to believe that her hallucination might be real, that a rescue boat had come. A long, bellowing whistle drew her gaze to an approaching skiff. Erik was at the helm.
“Leif—it’s Erik! Erik is here!” She shouted and shook his arm. “Wake up!”
“Erik!” She tried to shout, but her voice was feeble. Relaxing her grip on the boat hull, she attempted to hold up her arm to signal, but she could barely lift her hand out of the water.
Another sharp whistle blared from Erik’s boat, and the engine churned up the water. As Ella and Leif rose and fell, her gaze never left Erik. He steered in a circle around Leif’s boat. His dark eyes flickered to Leif and Ella, and then to Skadi, determining the best way to approach.
Erik slowed the engine, backed the boat toward them, and threw over the fenders. Moving swiftly and with purpose, Erik seized the stern line, attached it to a life jacket, and tossed it to Ella. It landed on Skadi’s hull.
“Put it on him in case you’re separated. Hurry up. I’ll pull you in.”
“Bloody sea monsters,” Leif slurred with his eyes half closed, clearly hallucinating.
Getting Leif into the life jacket would take every ounce of her energy, and her palms were already raw and blistered from clutching the rope.
She clung to Leif in the swirling current and found that her hand was frozen stiff.
She forced open her fingers, grabbed the life jacket, and jammed it over Leif’s head, while assuring him, “Don’t worry. I’m not letting you go.”
“OK, it’s on,” she called to Erik.
As Erik dragged them to the boat, a big wave exploded over her.
The water ripped the rope from her hand, and pain sliced through her skin.
The salt water stung, but once again it was reassurance that she was still alive.
They would survive, and she would live in Lyng?r, and drink hot cocoa with Leif in front of his fireplace.
Leif vomited and shut his eyes.
“Hurry!” Erik hollered as he pulled on the rescue line.
The waves were pushing his skiff parallel to Leif’s boat.
One good wave would shove Erik’s boat against Skadi, and crush Ella and Leif between the hulls.
She snatched the rope and winced, vowing that they would not die today, not while she still had breath.
Erik pulled them through the rough water. His face contorted with effort. He dragged them to the side of the boat and flipped a ladder over the railing.
“Be quick,” Erik commanded.
Ella was feverish and her breathing was shallow, but she held on to Leif and gripped the ladder. Salt spray blurred her vision as she called to Erik, “Grab him!”
She released Leif from her grip, but only after Erik had folded his barrel chest over the gunwale.
With his thick forearms and large hands, Erik grabbed Leif’s preserver and shirt and heaved him over the railing.
A wind gust rocked the boat from side to side.
With Leif three-quarters into the boat, Erik’s face turned purple, and he let out a roar as he gave Leif another hard tug.
Leif landed on the deck and curled up on his side.
Erik leaned over the gunwale again and rammed his hands under Ella’s arms. As he seized her life vest and pulled with all his might, she let go of the ladder. At that instant, another wave swung the stern around fast and slammed it against Skadi.
Ella heard the loud crunch. Erik jumped, and his feet staggered beneath him, but he kept a strong grip on Ella. He repositioned his legs and planted his feet securely on the deck.
Regaining his balance, he looked at Ella and assured her, “It’s OK, I’ve got you.”
As Erik hauled her into the boat, her left foot hit the gunwale loud enough for her to hear a cracking sound, but she felt no pain.
Her leg was numb, leaden—a deadweight. She flopped onto the deck next to Leif.
His lips were still blue, and his arm was bent at an odd angle.
Ella tried to stand so she could grab him a blanket, but pain shot through her.
Her head spun. Iridescent dots shimmered in her vision, and everything was distorted.
A yellow wedge of sun slipped from the clouds, sparkling brightly, and burned her eyes.
“Hang on! I have blankets but right now I need to get us out of here and into calmer seas!” Erik shouted and hurried to the helm.
As the boat accelerated, Ella rolled across the hard, damp deck and landed flat on her back. The skiff continued to rise and fall on the waves, and she lay there, drained and dizzy, listening to the crackle of the marine radio.
“Axel. I found them,” Erik said. “Alive. Hypothermia. Broken bones. Probably a severe concussion. Have an ambulance meet me at the boatyard. One more thing: Leif’s boat is belly-up.” Erik fired off Skadi’s coordinates.
Ella crawled to Leif, lay down next to him, and gently pressed her chest against his back, careful not to disturb his limp arm. Their legs touched, and she felt the heat of hope.
Now in smoother waters, Erik shifted the engine into neutral and snatched two blankets from the bow locker and threw them over Ella and Leif.
“Head exploding,” Leif mumbled.
Erik tucked the blanket around Leif’s chin. “You hit your head, son. Just don’t fall asleep. We’ll have you at the hospital in two shakes of an elk’s tail.”
Leif gave a weak grunt as Erik hurried back to the helm.
Ella nuzzled her face into the base of Leif’s neck. His aquamarine pendant was still there, intact. Her own aquamarine beads lay secure beneath her sweater, solid against her skin. Her eyes closed and she gave in to the darkness.