Page 38 of Restoration

My wet hair must be plastered to the sides of my face and my head. My cheeks are probably bright red from the sun and effort. And I have no doubt that a lot more freckles have popped out on my skin from all the sun I’ve been getting this week. But at the moment I feel beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

And more than that. Desirable. Treasured.

That’s what I’m seeing on his face and in his eyes.

“Edmund?” I say, soft and raspy. My hands have moved of their own accord to touch his chest.

He makes a low, guttural sound and moves his body closer. His head is tilted down toward mine.

He’s going to kiss me. I know it. Everything inside me is reaching for it.

Reaching forhim.

Then his gaze flickers away from me. His face changes, and his eyes narrow as he stares at something out toward the horizon.

I turn my head to look, curious despite the heavy drop of disappointment.

I gasp when I see what he sees. “Is that a boat?”

“That’s what it looks like.” He sounds excited. Urgent.

His reaction fuels mine, and my heart hammers as we hurry back to the beach and then yell and flail our arms around in the hopes that the boat might see us.

It’s a sailboat. That much is clear. But anything else about the size or type is a mystery while it’s so far away.

“It’s coming this way,” Edmund says after a minute. “I knew they would find us.”

It would take a miracle. Nothing short of a miracle. But who’s to say miracles can never happen?

We scream and wave frantically as the boat gets closer. Eventually it’s close enough to see more.

It’s a small boat. Way too small to be this far out in the ocean. Anyone who could come to rescue us wouldn’t come in a one-man recreational sailboat.

“It’s sailing weird,” I say, squinting against the reflection of the sun on the water so I can see better.

Edmund must be seeing what I’m seeing now. He’s stopped calling out, and his presence has palpably slumped. “It’s riding too low. It must have taken on water. That’s not our rescue.”

We watch in silence until it’s close enough to see more details. “Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “It looks like it’s totally beat up.”

Edmund isn’t talking. When I glance at his face, I see why.

He’s holding on to a blank, stoic expression, but I know him too well to be fooled by that.

He’s completely crushed.

So am I, but it’s not the same.

I never fully believed rescue was coming.

Edmund starts to turn around to trudge back to our shelter, but I stop him by grabbing his arm. “Wait. We should still try to pull that boat in if we can. Even if it’s taken on water, there might be some things we can use in it.”

“Oh yeah. Of course. Let’s see if we can get it.”

It’s not an easy process. The waves have pushed the boat in toward our beach, but it gets to a point where it doesn’t come any farther. It just rocks back and forth partway out. We both swim out to it, but even though it’s sunk lower than it should be, it’s not easy for us to climb onto it.

We both try unsuccessfully for several minutes until Edmund manages to jump high enough to grab a loose line hanging over the side. He uses it to haul himself up onto the small deck.

He unties the mooring line and tosses it out toward me. I grab it and wait until he’s dived back in the water so he can grab the line with me.