Page 25 of Thankful For Him

By the time I reach the outhouse I see the door swinging in the wind and looking up at the sky I realize it’s no regular storm blowing in.

The lake house and the outhouse, like the top end of the rest of the hillside, is built into solid rock. The whole landscape is like a series of steps that are cliffs and ledges, leading right down to the lake.

Now, I haven’t been up here for a long time, but I can see at a glance that a lot of trees and shrubs have disappeared from the rear of the house, leaving the whole topsoil of the hillside vulnerable.

This unseasonable drenching has eroded some of the soil, I see, when I reach the ledge below the outhouse.

I think I see someone down further and I call out, but I can’t be sure it’s her.

I should never have let her go. Dammit Mark, why did you have to-?

But I can’t blame him either. I’m probably more defensive of Misty now than he’ll ever be. He was just being her Dad, I get that now.

But it doesn’t help me and it doesn’t help her.

“Misty!” I shout out again, but it’s useless, the wind is howling now and the rain is literally peeling sheets off the hillside. All the groundwater looks like it’s bubbled up and mixed with the torrent, making a slurry of used to be solid ground.

I know it’s the only way she went, and before I can take a breath and commit to sliding down to find her, I feel Mark’s hand on my shoulder again.

“Jesus, Zak! Go find my little girl!”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice, but I grip his arm in mine before heading down, watching him stand helpless with his copper can, his face contorted in pain and fear for Misty.

There’s a third ledge before the last, from memory. As I scuttle down the hillside, the darkness from the sky above seems to touch the lake itself, almost blacking out anything I can see in front of me, but I make it down to the ledge.

That’s where I hear her screams.

It’s my name she’s crying out too. Nobody else’s. And I wouldn’t want anyone going after her but me.

I watch for a split second, hoping she’s seen me before she starts to get sucked away with the rest of the muddy hillside, down towards the last ledge before the lake.

There’s nothing else for it, and without even thinking I slide right down after her.

Half walking, half skidding on a torrent of filth that’s up to my knees, I growl in agony as rocks and debris smash against my legs, but I’m determined to stay upright.

I need to keep sight of Misty.

It’s like slow motion, but it happens so fast. I see her getting closer, sliding on her back, and then she’s gone.

The edge takes her and I know the only place left is the lake or a rocky bottom.

Either way, I prepare myself for whatever happens next.

The edge slides out from under my feet and I see the water, dirty and foaming below.

There’s a shape I try to make out before it’s gone.

I know it’s her and in mid-air I point myself forward, diving towards her before I feel the icy blast and deafening roar of the underwater world fill my ears.

I know I’ll find her, I just know it.

The same force that brought us together has to keep us together, and in a matter of seconds, before I reach the bottom of the lake’s edge, I feel her at my fingertips.

I’ve never grabbed at anything so hard in my life, and once I feel her thick chest under my forearm, I use my feet to push us both up from the bottom.Chapter NineteenMistyI remember the chilling blast of the icy water, feeling my body tilt at an odd angle before everything goes black.

Calling out for Zak one last time, I’m not sure if it’s me actually screaming or just a thought. Maybe my final thought?

Zak.

The memory of his touch, how he felt inside me with his strong hands running over me.

The memory fights with the darkness until the darkness wins, but I’m sure I feel Zak’s strong, powerful arm under my chest, lifting us up into the sky.

I feel a smile on my lips and then the sky gets dark, everything gets dark again until it feels like I’m going to be sick.

A bubble is rising up in me from somewhere, out of the darkness.

I try to open my eyes, but there’s only a milky film where the world should be.

One thing’s for sure, I wasn’t dreaming about those hands.

Those thick, strong, and powerful, magic hands of Zak’s.

He’s tipped me on my side, and the bubble bursts, some of the water flushed from my body which is replaced by the most welcome, most painful stab of freezing air as I can finally feel myself breathe again.

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