"Well, you two have your fun." Fynn opened up the ice chest. "I'm famished."
Boone returned so quickly, I didn't have time to sit down on the blanket before he dropped the stick at my feet. I threw it again, and Boone chased after it.
"Hey, I'm really getting the hang of this."
Fynn lifted up his sandwich and muttered over a bite full of food. "I'm getting the hang of this too."
Boone came right back, only he got lazy and dropped the stick halfway. "One more time and then we eat," I told the dog.
I walked to the stick and picked it up. I twisted my upper torso around to build up some good inertia. Then I flung out my arm, but I let go of the stick too late. It flew toward the river. Boone raced after it. The next few seconds happened fast, but they felt like slow motion. In my mind, I was certain Boone would stop, but his grit determination to fetch the stick carried him right off the bank of the river and into the churning water below.
"Boone," I screamed and tore after him. He was struggling to keep his head above water as he paddled his paws wildly through the rapids. Without another thought, I jumped in after him.
The shock of the icy water stole my breath, but I had no time to catch it. My legs were instantly battered on the jutting rocks as I swam like crazy toward Boone's little body bobbing up and down in the water. I stretched my arm out and managed somehow to grab hold of his back paw. I pulled him against me. His claws dug deep into my shoulder as we were both carried along in the rushing water.
I held tightly onto Boone and worked hard to avoid massive rocks. Then searing pain shot through my side as a submerged tree limb jabbed me. I lost my wind from the impact, but I hung on to Boone. His claws drew blood from my skin, but I was thankful that he was holding on to me as hard as I was holding on to him. Overhead, I heard Fynn calling me. His frantic voice brought tears to my eyes.
I looked up to search for him on shore and was broadsided by a boulder. Black spots formed in my eyes, and I had to concentrate on not passing out. I held tightly to Boone and couldn't stop thinking about how much Fynn would hate me if something happened to his dog.
My body was growing numb from the cold and the battering on the rocks, and I wasn't sure if I could keep afloat. The river headed sharply down a slope, and it felt as if I was falling. My head spun and the weight of death loomed over me. Fynn's voice was replaced by screams for help. I recognized the voices, especially one. Ethan's terrified scream played through my foggy head over and over again. Suddenly, I wanted the river to finish me off just so the screams would stop.
Then they fell silent. A large hand grabbed my arm roughly. I yelled out as a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. I kept Boone cradled in my arm as I was yanked free from the violent current.
"You're all right. I've got you." Fynn fell back on his bottom with Boone and me in his grasp.
I immediately broke into sobs. "I'm so sorry. That was my fault." Boone released his death grip on me and pushed out of my arms. He shook his fur and then sat down, shivering and looking about as wet as a dog could look.
Fynn held me tightly as if he worried the river might reach up and grab me back. "Holy shit, Ella, I thought I lost you." He rubbed my back to warm me up, but it was going to take a long time for my body temperature to return to normal.
"Fynn," I cried. "I'm so sorry. I almost lost Boone."
"But you didn't, Starshine. You saved him."
My entire body shook with the notion that I had almost drowned in the river. "And you saved me."
He squeezed me again. "I thought I lost you, Ella." His voice shook as he spoke. "I thought I lost you."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fynn
Boone proved just how resilient animals were as compared to humans as he happily gobbled up his food, then circled his pillow a few times before plopping down for a nap. Once he'd dried and warmed up, the shivering stopped and he had already put the terrifying incident behind him. But the other river victim wasn't going to recover quite so easily.
After giving it my best arguments, I eventually lost the battle to take Ella to the urgent care in Langston. My persistence had even reduced her to tears. So I brokered a compromise. Ella's parents had just returned from their trip, and she didn't want to alarm them by walking into the house battered, bruised and chilled to the bone, so I drove her to the motel for a hot shower, with the promise that if she didn't feel better after the shower, she would go to urgent care.
Ella had been in the shower long enough to fill half the motel room with warm steam. She had been in there long enough to make me worry. I knocked and then walked inside. I could see the outline of her body behind the curtain. She was standing still under the water.
"Ella, how is it going?"
"I look like I fell down a cliff of rocks."
I peeked around the curtain. "Shit. Ella—" I started.
"I'm fine. It looks worse than it is. And besides, with the exception of this mark on my side, all the bruises are on my legs. It hurts a little when I take a breath, so I think I might have cracked a rib. I think a few aspirin will do the trick."
"If you're sure. I left one of my shirts here on the sink for you to wear while your clothes dry in the laundry room."
"Thanks."
I left her to finish and walked out to the bedroom to make a pot of coffee. The shower turned off, and a few minutes later, Ella walked out swimming in my t-shirt.
I handed her a cup of coffee. "I think this will help warm you from the inside. It's a good thing the sun was hot today. I think that helped keep you from hypothermia."
She walked slowly to the bed and sat down. It was obvious that she was in a lot more pain than she was letting on.
"Ella, are you sure—"
"I'm sure," she answered before I could finish. "Everything hurts right now, but I'm a fast healer." She looked over at Boone curled up in his bed. "So is Boone, apparently."
I sat next to her on the bed. "I think your body cushioned him during the ride down the river. I saw the holes he dug into your shoulders."
"They weren't really holes, just dents. They stopped bleeding already." She took a sip of the coffee. "Yes, this helps. So did the hot shower. I'm still sort of in a haze about everything. How did you manage to pluck me from the water?"
"I got lucky. I was running alongside, trying to keep up with you, and my mind was dashing back and forth about what was the best way to save you. I figured if I jumped in I'd be in the same predicament and then we'd all drown. So I ran to get ahead of you. There was a bend in the river up ahead, and I made a quick calculation that the curve would bring you closer to shore. I waded in as far as I could go without getting swept away and waited for you. I think my heart still hasn't slowed down." I gently put my arm around her and drew her closer. "Scariest damn day of my life."
Ella stared down at the coffee cup in her hands. "Mine too," she said hesitantly.
"What is it?"
"It's nothing. It's just that while I was taking my wild ride down the river, some visions and sounds flashed through my head. I heard Ethan calling out for me." Her voice wavered. "It sounded so real."
"Maybe it was one of those life flashing before your eyes moments because you thought you were going to drown."
She nodded weakly. "I'm sure that's all it was."
She rested her head against me. "Fynn, my answer is yes. Wherever the road takes you after Butterfield, I want to be with you."
Chapter Thirty
Ella
Morning sun peeked around the curtains on my bedroom windows. I started to stretch but was stopped short by the pain in my side.
The shock of the river accident had finally worn off, and only the tender bumps and bruises remained. My newly stern boss was not happy when I called in sick, but I knew I'd be moving as slow as molasses all day. The last thing I wanted was to answer Patty's questions. Besides, we'd be parting ways soon enough.
The moment when it struck me, when I knew for certain that I didn't wa
nt Fynn to leave without me was when I stood alone in the hot shower, reliving the horror of the day. It was more than the profound relief I felt when I was plucked from the icy waters. It was the profound relief he felt. He had been just as terrified as me. I could feel it in the way he cradled me in his arms. I knew then that Fynn would keep me safe and happy and that I couldn't be without him.
Exhausted from traveling, my parents had gone to bed early. I had been able to sneak into the house and climb in bed without waking them. It was a skill I'd perfected in high school but not one that I was necessarily proud of. But now that morning had arrived and the day had started, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep things from them. They had taken one extra day off work to recuperate from their trip. Their voices drifted up the hallway from the kitchen.
The smell of bacon helped revive me enough to step out of bed. I scooted up the hem of the long shirt I'd worn to sleep. The bruises had darkened and they looked pretty ugly. It seemed I'd be avoiding shorts for a few weeks.
Pulling on jeans took some gritty determination. As I finished getting dressed, I mentally organized everything I needed to tell my parents. It nearly made me crawl back into bed. But I was going to have to face them like an adult. I had to stop hiding behind my childhood.
I needed a few more minutes of alone time before heading down the hallway. Bacon or not. I walked over to my nightstand and pulled out the picture I kept there and sat back down on the bed. Ethan and I were standing in the backyard with our Fourth of July sparklers. Ethan was wearing what my dad liked to call his 'politician's smile', a smile that Dad insisted would one day take him straight to the White House. I rubbed my thumb over the picture and thought about those harrowing moments in the river when I'd heard Ethan yelling. Was it the twin connection that caused me to hear his voice when I faced death, or was it something else? I couldn't stop thinking about it.
I stared at the picture for a second and then stood from the bed. My gaze circled the room almost as if I was looking at it for the last time before I stepped into the hallway to face adulthood.
Dad was reading to Mom from the newspaper, some article about the real estate market or some other boring subject. And even before stepping into the kitchen, I knew my mom was listening with a thoughtful smile and pretending to be interested, even if she wasn't, because that was the kind of relationship they had. Some of the parents who lost kids had grown apart after the tragedy, some even divorcing. I figured it had to do with the pain one spouse felt when they looked at the other and how those reminders made it too hard to stay together. But my parents had only grown closer. Even though I knew Mom could see Ethan every time she looked at Dad, I knew it gave her comfort more than pain. The strength of the bond between them helped me get through it all too. I couldn't imagine what it must have been like in the houses where people dealt with the accident through strife and fighting.
I kept my back stiff and worked hard at keeping my stride smooth as I hurried through the kitchen to the basement door.
Dad peered up at me over his newspaper. "Morning, Kitten, don't you have work today?"
"I took the day off." I reached for the doorknob.
"Everything all right?"
I looked back at him. The conversation had pulled Mom's attention from the stove, and they both looked at me expectantly.
I forced a weak smile. "Not really. I'm going to head down to the basement for a second. I need a few minutes to work up my courage." I knew the last part of my statement had probably sent their worry senses into overdrive but it was the truth.
Each step downstairs reminded me of every bump and bruise. I reached the bottom and flipped on the light. It had been a few days since I had gone downstairs, and the paint fumes were unusually strong. Maybe they would help clear my head.
I walked along and looked down at the faces of my friends. Fynn had understood my art so well, almost as if he knew everything that was going on in my head as I painted each collage. I walked to the blank piece of wood, the unscarred, nearly perfect piece I had kept aside for my final painting. I carried it over to my easel and placed it on the tray. I picked up the tape dispenser and pulled off a piece. Then I taped the Fourth of July picture next to the wood. It was time. I needed to start my final piece.
"Ella," Dad called down to the basement. "Kitten, you should come up before I have to talk your mom down off the ceiling."
"Coming." I turned too fast, forgetting the bruise on my rib cage. I bent forward and rested my hands on my thighs to catch my breath. I hadn't heard my dad come down the stairs. He was watching me from the middle step as I took a deep breath and straightened.
"And I guess you should start by telling us why you are moving like someone who jumped from a moving train."
"Yep," I said through gritted teeth. "That's probably a good place to start." I plodded to the staircase and dragged myself up the steps.
Mom was pacing the kitchen, tapping her wooden spoon against her hand. She was nearly white with worry.
"Ella, there you are." She pulled out a chair. The wrinkles in her forehead grew more pronounced as she watched me shuffle to the seat. "What happened? Did you fall off your bike? Did you go to the doctor? Is anything broken?"
"Honey, let her answer one question at a time. She's standing here in the kitchen so we know she's alive." My dad was always the voice of reason.
I sat down and Mom pulled up a chair right next to me. She turned to face me as if she wouldn't be able to hear me unless she was looking directly at me.
"I'll start with the bad news and move to the good. And I do have good. Plus the bad news ended up good, so—"
"Ella," Dad said sharply with a head shake. "You sound just like your mom. Now get on with it."
"Well, I'm moving very slowly because I got sort of bruised up yesterday when I fell in the river."
Mom gasped and covered her mouth with a look of horror as if I had just fallen in right there in the kitchen.
I tilted my head at her. "Obviously I survived, so bring the oxygen back in your lungs, Mom, and I'll finish."
"The river? Why were you at the river?" Dad asked.
"Fynn and I decided to go on a picnic."
"I knew he was trouble. I knew that boy was trouble." Mom said it twice in case the first time didn't annoy me enough.
"As much as you'd like to blame Fynn, he had nothing to do with me jumping in the river."
"Jumping?" Dad asked. "You said you fell in. Why would you jump into a raging river?" Now his face was gray with concern like Mom's.
I placed my hand on his. "I'm not suicidal if that's what's going through your head, Dad. I threw a stick for Fynn's dog, and it went into the river. Before I could blink, Boone had jumped in after the stick. So I jumped in after Boone. And then Fynn ran ahead to a spot where he could wade in and snatch both of us from the jaws of death."
"Ella, I don't think this is funny at all," Mom said.
"Trust me, Mom, I know."
"Well, you're delivering this terrible news like a comedian up on stage." Her voice trembled.
I reached for her hand and held it. "You're right. But as you can see, it all turned out O.K.. Other than a few bruises, I'm fine. Thanks to Fynn. Which brings me to the good news." I looked at each of them. Some of the worry had drained from their expressions, and they waited for the brighter side of the conversation. It was bright for me, but I wasn't sure how they would feel about it. In fact, now I wanted to kick myself for selling it as good news.
"Mom, Dad, I've fallen in love with Fynn."
Mom waved her hand and gave one of her signature 'pish-posh' responses. "It's just a crush because he is so handsome."
"I'm not a little girl with crushes anymore, Mom. You have to let go of the twelve-year-old Ella." I patted Dad's knee. "You too, Dad. And if I'm being completely honest with myself, I need to let go of her too. As much as I don't want to leave you two, I think it's time for me to venture out on my own."
"You're not thinking straight." Mo
m's bottom lip quivered, and her eyes were like shiny blue glass as she looked to my dad for some kind of assistance. "Derek, say something."
Dad leaned back and a slight grin broke out on his face. "It's about damn time, Kitten."
"Derek," Mom spurted his name.
Dad sat forward and took my hand. "Susan, just like Ella said, she's twenty-three, not twelve. All I'm asking, Kitten, is that you give this all plenty of thought. You only just met Fynn, and while he seems like an upstanding guy, this is still new for you. I want to encourage your independence but independence means informed decisions."
"Why do I feel like I just shrank back to being twelve?"
Dad opened his mouth to respond but I stopped him. "I will give it more time. But I can tell you I'm about as smitten with the man as I can possibly be. It's going to take something pretty shocking to change my opinion of him."
Chapter Thirty-One
Fynn
The pond had only been filled for an hour and already birds were congregating nearby to take a drink. I sat on the park bench with my guitar and waited for Ella to get off work. I strummed Sweet Child of Mine and thought about the blue eyes that had me so damn hypnotized. There was hardly a second in the day when I wasn't thinking about Ella.
So much had happened in such a short amount of time, and I hadn't had one moment of regret. Bringing the park back to life had been cathartic. It had helped me let go of some pent up anger. I was sure my dad would have approved. And through it all, I'd fallen in love. I'd taken that proverbial road trip to 'find myself', and along the way, I'd also found the person who I needed to keep myself whole.
I was deep in thought and concentrating on my guitar and hadn't noticed the small group of people gathering around the pond. Fran and Ella stood together at the pond's edge. I smiled at Ella as I finished the song about the blue-eyed girl.