feel the power of him in his arms and where she was pressed into the wet slickness of his chest.
“Just let it carry you,” he said. “Don’t fight it anymore”
It seemed as if he could be talking about way more than water. It could be a message about life.
It seemed the water carried them out forever, but eventually it dumped them in a calmer place, just beyond where the waves began to crest. Becky could feel the water lose its grip on her, even as he refused to.
She never took her eyes off his face. Her mind seemed to grow calmer and calmer, even amused. If this was the last thing she would see, it told her, that wasn’t so bad.
“Okay,” he said, “can you swim?”
“Dog paddle.” The water was not cold, but her voice was shaking.
“That will do. Swim that way. Do your best. I’ve got you if you get tired.” He released her.
That way was not directly to the shore. He was asking her to swim parallel to the shore instead of in. But she tried to do as he asked. She was soon floundering, so tired she could not lift her arms.
“Roll over on your back,” he said, and she did so willingly. His hand cupped her chin and she was being pulled through the water. He was an enormously strong swimmer.
“Okay, this is a good spot.” He released her again and she came upright and treaded water. “Go toward shore. I’ve got you, I’m right with you.”
She was scared to go back into the waves. It was too much. She was exhausted. But she glanced at his face once more and found her own courage there.
“Get on your tummy, flat as a board, watch for the next wave and ride it in. Watch for those rocks on the side.”
She did as she was told. She knew she had no choice. She had to trust him completely. She felt the wave lift her up and drive her toward the shore at a stunning speed. And then it spit her out. She was lying in shallow water, but she could already feel the wave pulling at her, trying to drag her back in. She used what little strength she had left to scramble to her knees and crawl through the sugar pebbles of the sand.
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