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A bevy of little hands reaches out, and the kids manage to catch the rope on the first try.
“Hold on tight!” I tell them.
Clarissa and I gently draw the rowboat towards us, and luckily, the waves are gentle enough that the rescue effort is without incident. Once the rowboat is secured to our sailboat, we help the kids aboard one by one.
“I’m sorry, we dropped our oars,” the oldest tells us, a boy no more than thirteen years old. “We didn’t mean to.”
He’s obviously on the verge of crying, and my heart sinks when I realize how terrified these kids must have been, floating out to sea.
“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re all safe now,” Clarissa tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You were all so brave.”
I’m touched to see her gentleness with the five children, settling them below deck before coming back to help me with the rowboat. We fasten it more securely before turning the sailboat back around and heading toward the marina.
“Some first date, huh?” Clarissa says with a grin as the harbor grows bigger and bigger.
“Any complaints?” I ask.
It’s a joke, but part of me is afraid that this unexpected interruption has put a dampener on the passion that flowed between us so easily before.
“Not at all,” she replies before kissing me gently again.
It’s all I can do not to run the boat right into the jetty. When we finally do pull up with the rowboat in tow, a group of adults comes running towards us. We’ve hardly docked before they start yelling names at the tops of their lungs.
“Jenny! Harriet!” yells one man, clearly frantic.
“Jason!” cries a woman, with the other names getting lost in the fray.
Clarissa gets the idea and brings the kids out from where they are below deck. The two of us help the kids off the boat and into the waiting arms of their clearly distraught parents.
Each of the parents holds their children close, as if they were afraid they’d never see them again which, given the circumstances, is probably true.
“Oh my God, thank you so much,” one mother says, turning to us with tears in her eyes.
The other parents follow suit, each one obviously grateful to us for bringing their children back safely.
“Our pleasure,” I say softly, still touched that Clarissa and I were able to share such a special experience together.
There are plenty of hugs and handshakes for us, and of course, many more tears and kisses for the children, who the parents refuse to let go of now that they have them back from the grips of the sea.
“What would you like us to do with the rowboat?” Clarissa asks once things have finally settled down a little.
“Oh, Randy, could you help this couple haul it out?” the tearful mother asks. “I’m sorry,” she says, turning back to us. “I don’t know your names.”
“I’m Clarissa and this is Emile,” Clarissa says without skipping a beat.
I hardly get to process what I just heard because Randy steps forward and helps us take care of the rowboat, but in the back of my mind, I realize my usual instinct to correct the woman for calling us a couple isn’t there. Usually, I’m the type who can date a woman for weeks and still nitpick whether that makes us a couple or not.
It’s a thought that brings with it a small warmth in my chest and that warmth only grows the more I think about it.
“Again, thank you so much,” Randy tells us, once the rowboat has been hauled onto dry land. “I know it’s paltry in comparison to what you’ve done for us, and for our kids, but is there anything we can do to repay you?”
“Of course not,” I say, waving away the suggestion. “Anyone would have done the same.”
I turn to glance at Clarissa and see that she’s nodding along. I can’t help but admire how level-headed she’s been through this whole thing. There’s no dramatics or airs with her, and it’s refreshing.
It takes a while longer to convince the parents, but eventually, the group dissipates. Clarissa and I are left alongside the sailboat, smiling awkwardly at each other.
I don’t even care if it’s awkward, though, because I’m on top of the world.
