Shock

Third Installment

Meredith speed-dialed her husband, Tony, a senior firefighter in the local volunteer fire department. He picked up immediately, “What’s up?” 

“You need to get to the lake right away. Deborah went swimming in the storm, and they can’t find her.”

 “Okay, who’s there with her? Where are you?”

 “Alex and Roxy are there, but they can’t swim well enough to look for her. I’m at home.” 

“I’m on another rescue call right now, but I’ll get there as soon as I can,” Tony responded.

“Damn it!” thought Meredith, but Tony hung up before she could argue.

She dialed Alex back, “They are on their way.”  She put down her phone, gave in to her fear, and began to cry.

*******************

Roxy stood like a statue at the end of the dock, frozen, drenched, her mind filled with darkness. Her only thought was, “I’ll never see her again; she’s dead.” Each time these words cycled through her brain, a gushing torrent of sorrow denser than the sheets of rain around her washed through her. Though she remained upright, she was completely unaware of her body.

*********************

Alex paced back and forth on the porch, cell phone in hand, mumbling to himself, “Hurry up, hurry up.”  Minutes were like hours. Jason took out his earbuds and played the cartoon on his iPad’s speaker. Silly, childish tunes filled the cabin.

**********************

Deborah stroked steadily, stopping every minute or so to look around. Sometimes she felt closer to the flag, and at others, she could see she had veered to the left or right. She needed to touch shore on the small stone beach beneath the flag. On either side of that beach, she knew, were trees and large rocks at the shoreline—no place to climb out of the water. She checked her direction and swam forward again. Stopping to look around broke her rhythm and slowed her progress. But gradually, stroke by stroke, she neared the dock with the flag at its tip.

Twenty feet from shore, she gingerly lowered her foot to test the depth, and it sank into the muck on the bottom of the lake. A few more strokes and she touched coarse sand. She pulled her tired body up from the water and waded slowly toward shore, larger rocks on the lake’s bottom bruising her unsteady feet.

Through the rain, she saw, with a sinking heart, a man who was standing in the doorway of the cottage withdraw inside and close the door. A flicker of confusion flared in her mind. She refocused on breathing deeply, slowing her pulse, and relaxing her tense muscles. The downpour had let up enough that she could dimly see her sister’s cabin on the opposite shore. Imagining that Alex and Roxy might be able to see her, especially her bright green bathing cap, she turned and waved both arms in hopes they would see she was okay.

As she rested in the lighter downpour, Deborah considered her options. Why had the man gone inside instead of coming to the shore to help her? Did he not see her? Should she knock on his door? She felt physically exposed in her dripping suit and shy about knocking on a stranger’s door. If the man opened it, would he help, only to later broadcast the incident throughout her sister’s small community?

Her sense of independence and self-reliance asserted itself. This was up to her. She had never been able to rely on anyone else, anyway. When she tried, they’d let her down. So, if she couldn’t seek help from the man, should she try to walk barefoot, on the muddy woods road, out to the highway to flag someone down? Did she have enough energy to swim back across the lake once the storm let up? The answer to the last question was clear. Already, after just a few minutes of rest, she felt alert, renewed, and confident.

For a short while, Deborah stood, resting in the shallow water. From time to time, she waved at the opposite shore but could see no movement there. The thunder and lightning had ended, but the rain had only diminished slightly. She knew the longer she was gone, the more worried they would be. Soon she felt ready to start back. She waded out to the edge of the mucky bottom and lifted her legs, surging forward with strong arms. “Take it slow,” she said to herself, “you can do this.”

Minutes passed, and she frequently stopped to get her bearings, but each time she checked and reoriented, she was nearer home shore. About halfway across, she could see Roxy standing stock still on the pier. A few seconds later, Alex appeared beside her. Deborah shouted and waved. No response from Roxy, but Alex’s angry voice boomed across the waves. “You get in here, right now!”  A flicker of dread rose in her chest. She had been right; they were mad at her. Alex shouted again. Deborah called out that she was coming as fast as she could and strained to pick up her pace. What would she face when she reached shore? She almost wanted to stay in the water, but that was not an option. Soon, she put her feet down on the pebbly bottom of her sister’s beach and dragged her utterly exhausted body out of Concord Lake. The rain had finally stopped.

To be continued tomorrow