Page 136 of Ford

His throat burned.I screwed up.

I know.

Overhead, a pale moon puddled over him.Stay afloat.

The sea closed over him.

I’m not enough.

But I am.

The waves rushed over him, pushed him. Carried him.

And I’m not done yet.

The thunder, farther away, rolling under him.

Moaning.

The surf gathered. He stiffened. No more—

Rolling.

Sand under his feet, through his fingers.

On his knees, crawling.

Falling.

Silence. Heartbeat.

Breathe.

He drew himself into the fetal position, shaking so hard his teeth hurt.

Darkness waned. Sunlight burned through his lids.

You will never be enough, Ford. But God is. When you are weak, because of Him, you are strong.

Dad. Sitting on the chairs in the hospital.

A cotton blanket hung over Ford’s shoulders. Warm, pain in his joints.You got in over your head. That happens. You have to learn when to call for help. That’s when you’re strong.

Yes.

Whimpering, his own voice, and he let it out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dad.”

I got you, son. I got you.

Tears flushed out the grime from his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his legs.

I’ll meet you on the beach.

“Ford!”

He opened his eyes. His father advanced through the waves in the hazy morning light, powerful, unbroken, his eyes fierce. “Dad!”

He landed beside Ford on his knees, scooped him up. “I got you, Ford. I got you.”