Lily of a Day
The next morning dawned with a mist that blew off by eleven. By then, Brenna had taken the empty packing boxes to the small detached garage behind the house. She had found some old gardening tools in there and laughed, realizing she'd forgotten to buy a shovel to plant her rose.
The mattresses had been delivered early and, to Brenna’s relief, the delivery men had taken them up the steep staircase for her. She had new feather pillows, now plumped in their white cases, and had made up the beds with clean old quilts. Crisp lace curtains were hung and wafted gently in the breeze from the open windows.
Brenna and the cats were reclining in the yard, Brenna in her chair and the cats on the warm concrete porch, when Molly drove up in her white Honda, stereo blaring. She jumped out of the car and stretched, muscles tired from the long, confining drive.
“Oh, it is so wonderful to be here! The air smells so good.”
Brenna walked over and gave her a hug.
“It’s great to have you here, I missed you.”
“Ditto. Now help me carry all this junk inside!”
Once Molly’s bags were unloaded, Brenna got out some fresh bread and fixed tuna sandwiches for lunch. At the sound of the can opener, the cats came running to the door. She let them in and put the empty can by their dish for them to scour clean.
Molly shuffled through her things and pulled out a flowered paper sack.
“I found you a present at the Saturday Market.”
Brenna smiled, opened the bag and carefully withdrew the framed picture inside. It was a painting of a mother and baby sitting in a garden of roses and peonies. The mother was cradling the baby in her arms and looking with wonder into his face. Tears came to Brenna’s eyes as she smiled.
“Oh, it’s beautiful, Molly. I love it.”
“Well, I know you needed a break from nursing babies and wasn’t sure if you would want it or not, but it just seemed to belong here.”
“You were right...it reminds me of the babies we’ve saved instead of the ones we couldn’t. It will look wonderful in the parlor,” Brenna said as she got up and passed through the dining room. She stood in the parlor for a minute and scanned the walls, then walked over to the fireplace and propped it on the stone mantle. She stood back with Molly and looked at it.
“Perfect,” they agreed.
“Okay, now come see what I’ve done with the upstairs.”
They lugged Molly’s belongings up to the yellow bedroom.
“This is great! This is so nice,” Molly said, surveying the room. “You’ve really done a great job.”
She flopped on the bed.
“I think I’ll just stay here for the rest of the day.”
“Not likely,” Brenna said, reaching over and pulling on her arm. “Come see my room.”
“Oh, okay...” Molly grumbled, shuffling across the hall. “Yes, this is beautiful, too. But you know what? My bed just looks so inviting...”
“Oh, go ahead, take a nap; I know how you are. We can go running when you get up,” Brenna replied, well aware of her friend’s propensity for midday naps. Smiling, she closed Molly’s door, went back downstairs and contemplated her painting a few minutes more.
Two hours later they were on their way to the beach, Molly feeling restored after her nap. Brenna had seen a sign reading “beach access” on her way into town one day and now she turned left off the highway onto a gravel road that faded into sand and widened into a small clearing surrounded by evergreens. She slipped her keys into a pocket of her shorts and they walked briskly down the path to the beach to warm up. The trees opened onto a long, seemingly endless stretch of beach, seagulls swooping and crying over the surf.
After taking deep breaths of the fresh sea air, they headed south, running on the wet sand. The spring sun was warm on their faces and although the breeze was chilly, it made for perfect running conditions.
Brenna was thinking about turning and heading back when she noticed a lone boy on the beach over a hundred feet away, running back and forth between the surf and dry sand. He was yelling, but was too far away to be understood. As soon as he saw them, he turned and made a beeline straight for them, dry sand churning under his feet.
Brenna grabbed Molly’s arm as she wiped perspiration from her red curls. “What do you make of that?”
Molly frowned. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good.” They sprinted further south on the beach toward him.
As they drew closer, they began to understand his cries.
“My brother, my brother! He’s in the water...”
Panting, they all stood for a few seconds looking out at the surf.
Molly leaned down. “Has anyone called 911?”
He nodded, tears rolling down his face. “There were some people walking by after...called on their cell phone.” He pointed down the beach to a couple scanning the waves.
Brenna and Molly ran further south with him. “Show us where he went in. How old is he, can he swim?” Brenna asked him. With trepidation, she vaguely recalled a sign near the beach front in town warning swimmers of dangerous tides off this coast.
He stopped, sobbing and retching. “Somewhere here.”
Molly knelt and grabbed his cold, wet shoulders while Brenna scanned the sparkling, empty sea.
“How old is he and can he swim?”
“He’s ten, he can swim real good, but...” he sobbed.
“What?”
“The log hit him in the head and he went under.”
Molly looked out over the ocean with dread. “Bren, do you see a log?” Their eyes hurt from staring at the sparkling waves, but then Brenna pointed slightly north. “There! There’s a log.”
Dragging the tired boy with them, they retraced their steps.
“What’s his name?”
“Jared.”
Brenna untied her windbreaker from around her waist and put it over his shoulders and then the women trotted into the surf up to their shorts, not daring to go further after they felt the strong tug of the undertow.
“Jared!” they called until they were hoarse, scanning the brilliant waves without ceasing until spots danced before their eyes.
After a few minutes, Brenna heard a siren and looked north to see a red pickup, red and white lights flashing, speeding toward them over the wet sand. She ran out of the water waving her arms. “Here!”
The pickup rolled to a stop and three people were out of it in an instant; the driver heading for Brenna and the boy, the others grabbing equipment.
The driver reached Brenna quickly. “What happened?”
The boy cried, “Jared’s in the water, a log hit him...”
The man looked up at Brenna and she nodded confirmation, realizing with a start that this was the man she had met in the cafe. So this is what those rescue people did.
Adam spoke rapidly over his radio as he ran to the water. “501 to Medical Control, confirm we have a victim in the water; activate the Coast Guard helicopter.”
As he continued his report, Molly came out of the surf, tears in her eyes, covered in goosebumps from the cold water. As Brenna hugged the crying boy closely, Molly whispered, “I can’t see him, Bren.” Brenna hugged her with her free arm as the tears overflowed. She was once again struck by the thought of such a soft-hearted person doing the work Molly did almost every day. She had never quite understood it...the thought passed through her mind in a split second and she was once again aware of the shivering boy and woman in her arms, the rescue people combing the water with their eyes. Why didn’t they go in the water, didn’t any of them know how to dive? She began to feel angry at the hopelessness of it all. What good were they anyway if all they could do was look? For God’s sake, she and Molly had been doing that. As her frustration climbed, she heard a cry behind her.
“Matthew!”
The boy turned and flew from Brenna’s side to the small woman running toward them in the dry sand, an older woman trotting behind her. Brenna couldn’t hear what was said as the woman wrapped her arms around the bo
y, but then saw her raise her head toward the ocean as she screamed, “Jared!” Grabbing the tired boy’s hand, she raced for the water’s edge. She let go of Matthew and would’ve plunged into the surf had Adam not grabbed her and held her close. She beat her fists against his chest for a moment and then collapsed sobbing in his arms. He spoke quietly to her, his eyes never leaving the water, then turned to see if there was anyone to care for her. Matthew was being hugged by his grandma, but Brenna and Molly had come up closer behind Adam; seeing a parent’s distress was nothing new to them. Adam handed the woman into their arms and they helped her walk back to Matthew and her mother.
When more rescue personnel arrived, one of the jumpsuited women brought a blanket from the truck to wrap around Matthew. He tried to push her away, hysteria increasing, but she got on her knees and spoke firmly to him. “Matthew, if you don’t let me help you, I’m going to have to take you to the hospital right now. You are too cold.” He stared at her, teeth chattering, and didn’t push her away again as she wrapped the blanket around him, his mother’s arms holding it snugly to him.
As the EMT began to question Matthew about the accident, Brenna heard the beat of a helicopter’s blades and looked up to see the red and white Coast Guard helicopter coming in to hover over the water. Mixed feelings of hope and anger battled inside of her. What did they expect to find at this point? On the other hand, stranger things had happened; cold water caused a diving reflex in children resulting in less brain damage from a lack of oxygen. She sighed, who was she kidding? Drowning in salt water caused the lungs to draw in more fluid; Jared could drown at the hospital even if he was found and resuscitated.
More time passed with fruitless searching until finally the helicopter turned south and headed home.
The mother looked up. “No, no...”
Adam approached her and took her by the arms.
&n