Page 14 of Restoration

“You okay?” Edmund asks after a minute. His knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel.

“Y-yeah. I think so. What about you?”

“I’m hating myself,” he mutters, glancing over at me very briefly. “I never should have done this to you.”

“You didn’t do anything. You had no way of knowing this storm would shift so far off course. You turned around as soon as we could tell it was going to be dangerous. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I mean everything I’m saying despite my rising fear. Not for an instant would I blame Edmund for this situation. It didn’t happen because of any mistake or risky choice he made.

“You’re doing a good job,” I add, reaching out to touch him gently on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t answer, and the silence feels like a knell of doom.

The next hour that passes is even worse. More terrifying and sickening. This boat isn’t a small one, but it’s being tossed around in the choppy water like it’s a dinghy. I actually do throw up at one point and am shaky and embarrassed afterward.

We just can’t seem to get away from the storm.

I’m trying to stay as quiet as possible so nothing I do distracts Edmund from sailing, but I really want to cry and whimper. I’m no longer convinced we’re going to survive this.

Then it’s even worse. Because I see a wave moving toward us.

It’s not a normal wave. In fact, I’m not even sure that’s the right word for the mountain of water approaching us like in slow motion.

“Edmund,” I choke out.

He’s steering like crazy, trying to get the boat out of the line of that wave.

But the wave is everywhere. Everything. Impossible to elude.

I watch in a weird daze as it overtakes us. The boat rises and rises and turns sideways at a weird angle.

It’s almost surreal. Can’t actually be happening to me. To us.

Then something hard slams into my head and the entire world goes dark.

Maybe it’s just as well.

***

THE NEXT THING I’Maware of is choking on seawater. It fills my mouth. Pushes down my throat.

I cough and sputter and do my best to spit it out. Instinct more than any conscious thought.

I’m freezing. That’s the next thing that enters my consciousness.

“Autumn!”

Someone is saying my name. Screaming it. And the loud, hoarse voice is right at my ear.

“Autumn!”

“Stop screaming at me.” Awareness is finally breaking into the dark haze of my mind. I’m in the water. The ocean. That’s why I’m so cold and so wet and so close to choking on water.

I’m not swimming, but I’m also not drowning. Something tight is holding me around the chest, just under my armpits.

“Thank fucking God,” that same voice mutters from behind me.

Edmund. He’s got a grip on me. He’s half swimming and half holding me so my face is above the water. He’s somehow managed to keep me from drowning.