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“Don’t let go,” she whimpered.
I took her hand and placed it on the seat of the jet ski. I released her and boosted myself up in one swift move. I pulled her out of the water and placed her in front of me.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re out of the water. We’re going back to the boat.”
I started the engine and started to move. She was still shaking. I kept one arm wrapped around her. “Are you hurt?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she murmured.
There was a little blood on the side of her cheek. It looked to be streaking down from her scalp. I had no time to inspect her injuries.
“Okay,” I assured her. “You’re okay. There’s a doctor on board the ship. We’ll get you all fixed up. You’re going to be fine.”
“Did I break it?” she asked.
“Break what, honey?”
“The jet ski?”
“The jet ski will be fine,” I said. “We’ll send someone out to get it.”
“I think I broke it,” she repeated.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I can buy a hundred jet skis. I can’t buy another you. It’s fine.”
When we got close enough to the ship, I waved my hand in the air. “I need help!”
The crew sprang into action. One very strong, strapping man that stood close to seven feet tall picked her up like a child and whisked her up on deck. I hopped off the jet ski and chased after him. He took her into the medical bay and placed her on a table. The ship doctor arrived seconds later.
“The jet ski rolled with her under it,” I said. “She was under maybe thirty seconds, forty-five tops. Her foot was caught.”
The doctor nodded and grabbed a blanket to cover her. “Can you tell me where it hurts?” the doctor asked.
I stared at her with real concern. She was pale, her lips a light shade of blue. I knew she hadn’t been under that long, but I was terrified. I reached out and grabbed her hand.
“I don’t think I’m hurt,” Macy answered. “I’m scared, but I think I’m okay.”
“Did you lose consciousness?” The doctor was probing at the small cut on her head that seemed to be the source of the bleeding.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“When I got to her, her arms were flailing. She didn’t seem to be knocked out.”
“Do you remember hitting the water?” the doctor asked.
He continued his assessment while holding her wrist, presumably checking her pulse. I appreciated how calm he was. I felt like my insides were going to burst.
“I do,” Macy said. “I smacked it hard. Then I was underwater. I remember it. It happened so fast.”
“I’m going to need you to sit up,” the doctor said. “I want to listen to your lungs.”
I watched him in the total silence of the room. After what felt like forever, he put the stethoscope around his neck again. “Lungs sound good.”
“My ankle,” Macy said. “It does hurt.”
The doctor moved to her feet and did his thing. Macy winced when he tried to move her ankle.
“Is it broken?” I asked.
