“She’s almost to him,” someone cried. “Closer.” They staggered a few steps more, and then water surged over Arie’s feet and ankles. It was so cold it made her breath catch in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, imagining Kory immersed out there. Hard as they held to each other, she could feel the tug and pull of the current.
A chorus of Pull! began. “Pull! Pull him out!” They heaved each other away from the water, up, up, up the strand. Firm, damp sand gave way to dry, shifting under their feet, doubling their exertion. Arie’s arms were now trembling with the effort; her shoulders and legs ached, but her heart was lit with hope.
Let him be all right, she thought. The thought pulsed through her like a bell ringing. Let him be all right.
Then the tension let go so suddenly Arie stumbled sideways. The whole group surged forward, gathering in a frantic huddle. She shoved at them, trying to get to him.
“Let me through,” she shouted. “These are my people. Kory!”
“Give us room,” a voice boomed. “This lady is family.” It was Curran, making a space for her. His face was grim and people drew back, still craning their necks to see. In that instant, Arie saw his face as she had first seen it weeks and weeks ago, his black eyebrows drawn into a ferocious scowl that belied his essentially gentle and generous soul.
He put his big arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. “He’s alive,” he said. “Banged up, but okay.”
When she reached him, Arie dropped to her knees. Kory was cradled in Renna’s lap like a child half his age. She had her arms tight around him. Several people had removed their own jackets and draped them around the boy, who was shaking with cold and shock. Water ran out of his hair, dripping over a large abrasion on his forehead, leaving droplets like pink tears trailing down his cheeks and dripping off his jaw. Handy crouched there, rubbing Kory’s arms and speaking quietly to him, and Talus was huddled on her other side. The dog was drenched and shivering, but she only had eyes for Kory. She rested one paw in the boy’s lap and licked solicitously at his face.
“Are you in one piece?” Arie asked. She knelt by Handy and took Kory’s cold hands in hers. There were abrasions on his knuckles and a few shallow cuts on his palms.
“Looks like he was in a prize fight,” said Curran. “I’d hate to see the other guy.”
Kory didn’t respond to this small bit of humor. Arie took his chin gently in her hand and tilted his head so that she could get a good look at him. His pupils were of equal size and he was able to track her finger side-to-side. “What happened out there?” she asked.
“A wave,” he said. His voice was little more than a rough whisper. “We were looking at creatures on the rocks. There was a starfish, and when I bent over to touch it this giant wave hit us.”
“That’s called a sneaker wave,” said Curran. “They come out of nowhere. I should have warned you to keep an eye out, buddy.”
“I didn’t even have my feet in the water, I promise, Arie.” Without warning, he turned his head and wretched up a remarkable amount of water onto the sand.
“Never mind,” said Arie. “It’s not your fault.”
Talus whined and pushed her big head into Kory’s lap. He leaned down to put his face close to hers and he furiously lapped his cheek. “The sneaker wave got Talus, too. I was trying to grab her, but the water pushed me the wrong way. She was swimming back to land, but I couldn’t get away from the rocks. Good girl.” He put his arms around the dog and hugged and then pulled back, a look of alarm wiping away his dazed expression. “She’s freezing!” he said, and began pulling off one of the jackets wrapped around him. “Cover her.”
Curran bent and lifted Kory from Renna’s lap and cradled him, holding all the jackets in place. “Hey now,” he said. “Don’t you worry about Talus. She’s wearing a fur coat, remember?” When the boy began to object, Curran shook his head. “No arguments. Let’s get the both of you over to the fire.” He started up the beach, holding Kory close. Talus stood, shook herself hard, and ran after them.
As Handy helped Renna to her feet, Arie looked around at the bedraggled crowd still ringed around them. A few had drifted back to their own little spots on the sand, but most had stayed, exalted over the rescue. Many of them were wet, and most of them hunched their shoulders against the afternoon mist rolling onshore. As she looked from face to face, she was surprised by the sting of tears at the back of her eyes.
“Who went into the water first, to help our boy?”
After a moment of silence, a tall, broad-shouldered woman lifted her hand slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. Her hair, dark red, was braided in twin pigtails that still dripped steadily at their ends.
Arie stepped toward her—the top of her own head just reaching the woman’s shoulder—and hugged her tightly. They stood that way for a moment, silently embracing. Finally, she stepped back, but kept hold of one of the woman’s hands.
“There aren’t words enough to thank you properly,” she said to everyone. “We’ve been through such a terrible thing. All of us, is what I mean to say. I don’t have to hear your stories to know it. I almost forgot.” She tried to go on, but found her throat tightened around those same nascent tears.
The whole restless group had gone still as they listened, their expressions shifting from celebratory to serious. A pair of gulls squabbled momentarily on the rocks overhead, and then the only sound was the relentless background shush and crash of the ocean. Arie looked out at the waves and squeezed her free hand into a tight fist, letting the nails press lightly into her palm, then managed to look at them again.
“To speak plainly, I forgot how good we can be.” Over their heads she could see her family back at the fire, tending to Kory. “Thank you,” she said, “each of you, for making me remember. What you did here was—well, it was remarkable.”
“You’re welcome!” shouted a boisterous male voice from the back of the crowd, which elicited a laugh from the group. “I hafta get myself warmed,” said an older woman nearby. “That’s more excitement than I’ve had in a while.” She was nearly Arie’s age, a raw-boned woman in ragged dungarees and a sagging canvas barn jacket that was wet to the waist. “Glad your boy is all right,” she added, waving over her shoulder as she trudged back up the beach. This was the prompt everyone apparently needed; the crowd dispersed in seconds, some of them giving Arie a final nod or smile as they went.
Arie was still holding tight to the hand of Kory’s first responder. She faced her then and took a long look. A good face, this reluctant hero, she thought. Her aspect was that of someone who has spent most of her life outdoors, skin tan and freckled, even this late in the year “What’s your name?”
The woman opened her mouth, but before she could speak a middle-aged man standing behind her stepped forward. It was Mr. Smiley-Wave.
Of course, thought Arie
He dropped an arm around the woman’s shoulders and squeezed. “This is Ashe,” he said. “Isn’t she something?” He grinned at Arie with a set of teeth so large, white, and symmetrical they looked as though they’d been sculpted from polished marble. “And I’m Clyde.”
“Thank you for taking such a risk for us,” said Arie. She looked only at Ashe as she said it, letting the hovering Clyde know exactly whom she was thanking.
Ashe smiled. “Of course. He got pulled out so quick it was like an optical illusion.” She shook her head. “And what are the odds a lifeguard would see him go into the water?”