Page 13 of Part of Your World

Muriel peeked her head out from behind a rock and scanned the beach for any sign of the man she’d rescued or his Grandpa Clem. Neither one was anywhere to be seen. Thank heaven. She’d worried the older man would try to find her once he’d confirmed his grandson’s well-being, but it seemed he cared more about getting the young man named Zane to a doctor than searching out the woman who’d inadvertently caused his grandson’s accident.

Zane. ‘Twas a name she’d not heard before. She liked it, though. It seemed to fit the young man she'd pulled from the water. Strong and straightforward. Focused. On her.

How her breath had caught when she’d opened her eyes to see him standing in his boat, staring at her. Not in a leering way. She’d been on the receiving end of a few of those stares when she wandered along the docks, looking for her da. Zane’s attention had been different. Curious and full of appreciation. For a single heartbeat, her soul had felt connected to his. And then the untended sail swung across the boat and whacked him in the head.

Muriel sent another prayer heavenward on the young man's behalf, pleading for healing.

She’d never quite understood how a person could pray without ceasing until today. Every breath she’d breathed over the last hour had carried a petition on its wings. Petitions the Good Lord, in his mercy, had seen fit to grant thus far.

As she made her way home, prayers for Zane continued to dominate her mind and heart. It felt strange to be so consumed with thoughts for a man she'd never met before today. She didn’t even know his last name. Yet Zane didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like . . . a part of her. A part that had begun to ache after being separated from him.

‘Tis just because ye shared a near-death experience with the fella. It’ll fade with time.

That’s what Alana would say. Sensible, level-headed Alana. Muriel had been trying to think more like her eldest sister of late. Seemed the easiest way to train herself to act in a responsible fashion. Alana excelled in responsible behavior. Of course, she also excelled in bossing and nagging and disappointed sigh heaving, but Muriel didn’t plan to take things far enough to suffer from those unfortunate side effects. However, as she skirted behind buildings so as not to be caught with a bodice dampened by wet underclothes and a coiffure reminiscent of tangled seaweed, she couldn’t make the Alana logic stick.

Yes, she’d been through a harrowing experience with a stranger, but something more than the rescue bonded her to him. Perhaps their connection stemmed from the admiration she’d heard in his voice as he’d explained his encounter with her to his grandfather. Or the fact that he’d witnessed her soul, exposed and raw, and had drawn nearer instead of turning away. Whatever it was, she doubted she’d be forgetting Mr. Zane any time soon.

As visions of a dark-haired young man swam through her mind, she failed to notice the scowling features of the older man standing in her kitchen until she nearly ran him down.

“Da!” She sucked in a startled breath and hopped backward. “What are ye doin’ home?”

He raised a brow and shot a pointed glance at the salt pork sizzling in the skillet on the cookstove. “Makin’ supper, since me daughter couldn’t be bothered with the chore.” He shoved the skillet to the back of the stove with a clatter and turned to face her fully, his head wagging in a sorrowful manner. “Why, Muriel? Ye’d been makin’ such fine progress. Why’d ye disobey me?”

“I didn’t!”

“Yer hair is drippin’, me girl. Ye can’t expect me to believe that ye weren’t swimmin’ in the sea.”

“It wasn’t like that, Da. I swear! There was an accident near the cove. A man in a small boat took his eyes off the mainsail. When the wind shifted, the boom walloped him in the head and knocked him overboard. No one else was around. I had to go in, Da. He would’ve died!”

Her da’s eyes widened then narrowed as he took in her damp bodice and dry skirt. “Ye swam out to an unknown man in yer . . . yer . . . unmentionables? Heaven’s breath, child. Have ye no sense?” His hand trembled as he reached for the back of a chair. “Ye coulda been . . .” His words trailed off as he rubbed a hand down his face and over his beard.

“Would ye have me leave the man to drown?”

“Yes! If it meant ensurin’ yer safety.”

Pierced by the quaver in his voice, Muriel stepped close and placed her hand atop his where it gripped the back of the chair.

“I’m safe, Da. God protected me. Ye need not fear.”

He grabbed her about the waist and pulled her into a bearish hug. “I can’t help meself from fearin’ for ye, girl. Ye’re me daughter. If anythin’ were to happen to ye . . . I don’t know what I’d do.”

Tears stung her eyes as she burrowed her face into her da’s chest and soaked in the love he squeezed into her. After a moment, he released her and leaned back.

He cleared his throat. “So . . . ah . . . what became of the young lad? He survived, I take it?”

A pride-filled grin stretched across her face. “He did. I remembered yer training. Pumped his lungs until he coughed out the water trapped inside. For a while, I didn’t think he’d make it.” Her chest clutched again at the memory, and unexpected tears moistened her eyes. “I didn’t give up, though,” she said, her voice cracking. “I kept on and on until he finally breathed on his own.”

“Of course ye did.” His tender smile loosened the last of the knots in her stomach. He smoothed her hair from her forehead. “I’ve heard tales of mermaids rescuing sailors at sea. I guess I should expect nothin’ less from me own little mermaid. I’m proud of ye, Muriel.”

His praise warmed her from the inside out. “Thanks, Da.”

Then his expression sobered, and Muriel’s stomach twisted anew.

“But ye can ne’er tell a soul about what ye did today. It would ruin ye. And if ye ever see that lad about town, ye’re to turn away and walk in the opposite direction. Do ye hear me, daughter?”

She nodded. “Yes, Da.”

I hear ye, but I can’t promise to heed ye.