A swarm of butterflies take flight in my stomach.
From somewhere beyond my focus I hear Bree screaming for help.
There’s no one to help him…there’s no one…
I keep watching as he is sucked under again, gasping and flailing.
He’s drowning…Oh, please, God…not Cade! Don’t take my little brother like this!
When he goes under again, I pull my eyes toward the horizon, wondering about that girl on the other side of the ocean who I’d very much like to meet someday. But I know I’ll never get the chance. For a split second I recall how awful it was to feel my lungs filling with water, how impossibly terrifying it was to be unable to fight it, and to know with certainty that I was going to die.
That’s what Cade is going through…Oh God, can’t you help him?
In that moment, I am reminded of something Cade told my mother when he found out I needed a transplant. She’d told him that whatever happens, it’s in God’s hands, to which he replied, “I hope God has big hands.”
He does have big hands, Cade! He has us! We can be God’s hands.
Just then, I catch a glimpse of a hand, then a head, pop up out of the water thirty yards out. It’s brief, but it’s enough to reveal his location.
In half a heartbeat, I am running toward the ocean. Not jogging but sprinting at full speed toward the water. There is no time to worry about the consequences now. I know my body cannot handle this kind of exertion, but if I don’t give it everything I’ve got, the consequences for Cade are sure.
In record time I reach the water, but I don’t slow down, even as the first frigid wave hits me.
Bree is screaming louder now, for both of us. She’s giving directions, but I can’t make them out because my ears are full of saltwater. My eyes are burning from salt too, but they are locked on a point forty yards out. As I’m swimming, the butterflies fly faster.
He’s got to be here! Push harder! This is why you’re a swimmer, Ann. This is why you’re the big sister.
The ocean is fierce, but so am I. I move through the waves like I am part of it. My strokes are as sure and strong as they ever were, as though I’ve been training for this meet every day of my life.
When I reach the spot where I last saw him, I dive under, feeling around for anything. When I come up, Bree is still screaming something. I pause to look, and see that she is pointing north. I turn just in time to see Cade’s face go under again, twenty yards up.
In what feels like no time at all, I am there, diving again beneath the surface. I hold my breath as long as I can, groping blindly in every direction. At the last possible moment, I feel a clump of hair, attached to a head. Then I have him by the neck and I’m pulling him up. I get him to the surface and continue to pull toward shore.
Dragging him with me, against the undercurrents, is killing me. Literally. The butterflies in my stomach move up into my chest, and suddenly they are swarming bees.
One of them bites me, then another and another, but I press on. I feel Cade trying to kick, but I know it is my power alone that will save us. There is no lifeguard on this beach. There is nobody but me.
Eventually we’re aided by a wave that sends us sprawling into the shallows. As the water recedes, we are once again on wet sand. Bree and a stranger are right there to help pull us farther up onto the beach, beyond the ocean’s deadly reach.
Cade is safe, but still very shaken—and shaking. As he tries to get up on his knees, he vomits a bunch of saltwater. I can tell it hurts—probably even burns—but the color is returning to his face.
I can’t catch my breath, so I have to lie down on my back. I’m clutching my chest, but ignoring the pain. I turn my head so I can still see my brother. “You OK?” I ask, gasping.
He nods wearily. “I’m so sorry.”
I take a deep breath, still starving for air. “Don’t be…It felt nice…to swim.” My chest heaves in and out several times. Once I’ve got a little more air in me, I finish my thought. “One more item…off my bucket list.”
Chapter 38
Cade
I HATE THE TASTE of salt. I also hate the taste of puke. But I love the taste of air, so I’ll put up with the other awful tastes for now. I feel weak, but weak is a lot better than dead. Thanks to my sister, I’m alive!
Oh man, I’m so lucky…to have a big sister.
From behind me I hear Dad calling out. When I turn around, he and Mom are running up the beach about fifty yards away. When they get there, the man who helped us onto the beach tells them what he saw.
Bree is crying.