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Then he saw lights, and cars, and Brady and Fin.
Help was here, he had to get Samara to it.
He hadn't saved his daughter.
He was going to save Samara.
Michael started to swim.
He didn't think of anything besides kicking his legs and pushing through the water with his spare arm.
“Here, I got her,” Fin said when he reached the shore, and Michael reluctantly handed Samara over only because he wasn't sure he could stand and carry his own weight let alone hers as well.
Fin scooped Samara up and carried her to Brady’s car, lying her out on the backseat.
“Is she okay?” he asked as Brady helped him pull himself out of the river and stagger to his feet.
“She’s not breathing,” Fin said, dragging her back out of the car and laying her down on the ground, beginning CPR.
Michael dropped to his knees beside Samara and grabbed her hand. He wanted to help Fin with the CPR, but he was still struggling to suck in enough air to keep his body working, let alone save Samara. Fin was a doctor, if anyone could save her it was him.
“Don’t you dare die on me,” he begged, squeezing her hand as tightly as he could. She was so cold, so still, it was like she was already gone. He felt like he was back in time eight years, clutching his daughter’s lifeless body in his arms begging her to live.
That day his prayers hadn’t been answered.
Was today going to have the same outcome?
Fin started the third round of CPR and Samara suddenly started to cough and splutter. Her brother rolled her onto her side while she coughed up the water that had nearly stolen her life. Before Michael could pull her into his arms, Fin hadsnatched her up and put her in the back of the car.
“Grab the blankets,” Fin said to Brady.
While Fin stripped off Samara’s soaked jeans and sweater, Michael dragged his numb body into the front seat. The heater was on, and although hot air blasted out, he was too wet and too cold for it to go any way toward warming him up. Fin took the blankets Brady handed him, wrapped Samara up in them, and pulled her into his lap.
She was shaking, her breath came in harsh gasps, but she was alive.
Then Michael heard the best sound in the world.
“Mike?”
“Right here, sweetheart.” He reached between the seats to touch his hand to her cheek.
Samara lifted her head from her brother’s shoulder to look at him. “You saved my life,” she whispered, her voice rough and hoarse but still the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
“It was nothing,” he said and meant it. There wasn't anything he wouldn’t do for her.
“Let me go.” Samara squirmed in her brother’s arms.
“You’re hypothermic, and I just did CPR on you, an ambulance is coming, but you have to rest until it gets here,” Fin told her.
“Michael. I need Mike,” she protested.
“Fine,” Fin relented. He picked her up, still swaddled in blankets, took her out of the car and around to the front, setting her on his lap.
“I love you,” she whispered, snuggling against him and going limp as she passed out.
“I love you, too,” he let his eyes close and just held her. Samara was alive, he hadn't lost her. Today God had answered his prayers.
DECEMBER 24th
