How to Rescue a Drowning Heart

Chapter 1

~Marty~

The wipers of my Lexus RX slammed across the windshield at top speed, but they couldn't keep up with the downpour. I slowed my car to a stop and craned my neck to see if there was any way around that fallen tree. The storm had knocked it down and now it blocked the turnoff that would take me up the hill to the house.

It was my bad luck that the tree had fallen right where the hill got rocky and penned in the road on both sides. There was no way around unless I wanted to go on foot and get drenched. This was the only way up the hill by car. I was more than willing to take one of the footpaths but not before the rain stopped.

That wouldn't happen any time soon. The storm was going strong, dumping sheets of rain on the car. For now I decided to get off the road before my new car got rear-ended. With this bad weather, darkness came early and evening had turned into night. My headlights couldn't be seen from more than a foot away.

Even as my wipers were going furiously, I could barely see anything. The road hugged the hill on one side and had a steep drop-off on the other. I looked for the widest spot and pulled up against the guardrail.

Once I was parked on the side of road, I turned off the wipers, killed the headlights and shut off the engine. Now all I could hear was the howling of the storm and rain drumming hard on the car. Settling in for a wait, I unbuckled my seatbelt and watched nature in action. Treetops were swaying wildly, making me worry that more trees might come down.

The real show was over the ocean especially when lightning struck. Waves were high and pushing in further so that the beach was reduced to a mere sliver. Down the shore, the ocean smashed itself against the outcroppings of rock then burst into spray and foam, only to come back and do it again.

As the next flash of lightning lit up the view, something caught my eye. It was a small boat tossed around on the waves. There was at least one person in that boat and it was frighteningly close to the rocks right below. As the boat got even closer, I lost sight of it.

I got out of the car and immediately got drenched. Blinking as water streamed over my face, I leaned over the guardrail and frantically looked for that small boat.

I caught sight of the rowboat just as a wave picked it up and drove it against the rocks. The boat turned on its side then flipped over. Its white hull lit up by a flash of lightning, it bobbed on the turbulent sea. Cursing, I looked for whoever was in that boat. To my relief I saw a figure clinging to the overturned boat. Then in the next instant the survivor was gone. There was only the boat, gleaming white, its passenger somewhere in the dark surf.

I looked all around me but there was no one else in sight. It was all up to me. Leaning over the railing, I looked for a way to climb down without breaking my neck. At the same time, I got out my phone. My hands wet, I struggled to work it, but I managed to call 911. I focused on the facts and quickly told the operator my location and about the boat.

Once I reported what I witnessed, I was on the move. There was no safe way to get down there. The climb was dangerous over slippery rocks and loose clumps of dirt. I dug my hands in wherever I could.

Skin was getting scraped off my fingers, the palms of my hands, my knees and elbows. At one point I slammed my chin into a sharp outcropping. My teeth snapped painfully but I kept going.

Scraped and bruised, I made my way to the edge of the water. Sea spray and rain almost blinded me as I waded in with waves smashing into me, trying to knock me down. I didn't know the shape of the bottom here. I might find a ledge and drop down suddenly. But I couldn't slow down. I pushed through the roiling surf, and when the water was chest high, I dived into the black water.

I couldn't see anything. I came up for air and dived down again. Still nothing. The next time I swam up, gasping, I thought I saw someone right up ahead, floating face down. As waves crashed around me I lost sight of him. I fought the waves and swam forward. Nothing. I only saw rocks and water and further out the overturned boat. I took three deep, hurried breaths and dived.

The water was dark and turbulent above, deathly quiet underneath the waves but just as dark. At first I saw nothing, but I knew I had to be close. I tried to find him by feel alone, reaching blindly, running out of air.

I would have to go up soon to breathe. Then a pale form came into view. Frantically I reached out. Grabbing hold of a lifeless arm, I swam up with all my might. I pulled the man up after me and broke the surface gasping and disoriented. I had a sense of euphoria as I pulled the inert body up with me into the crashing waves.

With one arm around his chest, I held him closer and hauled him toward the shore. I dragged him out of the water to the narrow strip of sand up against the rocks. My chest heaving and painfully tight from holding my breath, I dropped to my knees next to the unconscious man. Hovering over him, I checked him over. A young guy, unconscious, not breathing. My heart sank. Was I too late?

I pressed down on his chest to get any water out. Then I laid my head on his chest and listened for a heartbeat. Nothing. I started CPR. I was exhausted and out of breath, but I had to breathe for him. I had to make him live.

The rain was still beating down hard, like it would never let up. I didn't know when help would get here, but I couldn't give up. After each breath I forced into his lungs, I begged him to breathe. I begged him to stay alive.

~Joel~

I heard a voice begging me, Please, please, please. I didn't know what the voice wanted but it had a hold on me. I kept listening to it and reaching for it. Come on, breathe! the voice demanded.

I sat up in bed. That damn voice in my head was my personal alarm clock these days. In the early hours of dawn, it brought me awake and cursing.

Fuck you. Go to hell, I told it and kicked off the blanket that was tangled around my legs.

I got up and went to the window. Glazed white with salt, the windows had gotten muggy with dirt as well. I could hardly see anything. There wasn't much to look at anyway. In the early morning, the house was wrapped in a cold, gray haze until the sun came out to break it up.

No sun today. Made no difference to me. Only one thing filled that view—the slate blue, foaming waves, cold and merciless. I put my hand on the salt crusted pane of glass that separated me from the view of the water. The glass was cold, frosted like it had been iced over. Through it, I could feel the ocean pulling me closer, stealing the air from my lungs.

I swallowed then took a deep, shaky breath. Every cell inside my body screamed that I shouldn't be here, but something else inside me disagreed. This was exactly where I was supposed to be. It was here that I felt closest to Neil. There was no trace of my older brother at my parents' new house. Neil only spent a handful of weekends and holidays there when he came down from college.

That brand new house seemed colder to me than the coldest wind that blew from the ocean and whistled under the eves and gutters, like the beach house was its instrument and it was playing a tune. The inside of the beach house was dark and too quiet until I started moving around. Then the wood floor creaked with every step.

The house was quiet because there was no electricity. No running water either. Some weeks ago, I broke into my family's beach house. Mom and Dad always shut off the utilities until the summer, but at least I was indoors. It was somewhere to get in out of the elements even as the For Sale sign rattled in the stiff breeze, a reminder that my days at the beach house were numbered.

Not telling my parents where I was, I stayed here like a squatter. I carried ocean water in a bucket to flush the toilet. There were a few places I could grab fresh water and keep myself clean. I couldn't hide all traces of my presence, so the real-estate lady probably ratted me out. My parents must have told her to ignore me, otherwise the cops would have been called on me. That's as far as their parental concern went. They didn't come by or call me. I was a dark cloud in their lives, a disgrace even before Neil died.

The beach house also had a dark stain on it, almost like Neil had died right there and not in the depths of the ocean. That's why the place had been put up for sale.

Having people come to see the house meant that I had to be watchful. I didn't want to be surprised and have some lookie-loos barge in on me. That's why I liked to be out of there pretty early most mornings, and I always kept an eye out the window. If I saw a car park in the back or anyone come up the path, I could easily duck out.

It was still early though. No one would bother me for a while. I ate a Snickers and drank some warm, flat soda from a one liter bottle. It always went flat before I finished it, but it was cheaper.

In the off season in Juniper Bay, I was earning my money a little bit at a time, wherever I could scrape up some work. I had to make the money last and not buy a burger from Tripp's no matter how much I craved one.

Without the tourists, I knew money wouldn't be pouring in. No one was hiring and the best I could do was to get a little day work here and there. Sometimes it was half a day or none and then I had to make a loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter last for a while.

Yesterday I had helped Mr. Turner of Turner Sporting Gear tear down a walkway along the back of his business so a new one could be put in. Today I had no luck as I walked around town hoping to get hired. Practically everyone in Juniper Bay knew I was on the lookout for work. As soon as they saw me coming, before I even asked if they had work, shopkeepers would shake their heads so I would know to move on. Just as well. I didn't want to waste time on chitchat.

When I stopped by Champ's Deli, it was to ask if Mrs. Guzman had any work and also to see if they had any meat that was about to expire that I could buy cheap. I was past being grossed out by something like that. I was craving meat so hard these days.

There was a customer at the counter so I hung back. The guy whose back was turned to me might have been in his twenties or thirties with a good body, but I wasn't in the mood to check him out properly. I turned away and stared out the front windows of the deli, timing how long it would be before anyone passed by on the street of this half deserted town.

Seeing no one, spacing out, I was trying to suppress my hunger pangs and not to let the smells of the deli torture me. Behind me, the man at the counter spoke just a few words, something about his order that I didn't catch because I wasn't paying attention. Losing track of where I was, I was hearing the same voice saying other words, imploring, desperate words.

Please breathe. Stay with me, please!

I stopped breathing and my vision became hazy like under water. Hearing those other words, I was still looking out toward the street but seeing nothing. I stayed like that. I didn't turn around until I heard the chime above the door. Startled, I looked toward the exit. The man was leaving. That snapped me back to reality.

Mrs. Guzman spoke to me but I was already heading for the door. The man was leaving and I couldn't let him get away. I rushed out and looked up and down the street.

Standing there, I felt like I was out of breath after only a few steps. I spotted the man's back as he moved down the road at a brisk pace. Sticking my hands in the pockets of my denim jacket, I went after him, hung back, tried to act like I wasn't out there stalking a guy.

As shocking as it was to hear his voice all of a sudden, for the life of me, I didn't know why I was following the man. But it was him. I was sure he was the one. Unmistakably, that was the voice that called me back, but I sure as fuck wasn't following him so I could thank him.

Then why stalk him? I didn't know. Even if the reason was buried, that didn't stop me from chasing after the man. I was driven by some kind of obsessive need. Did I want to pick his brain, maybe ask him that all important question all victims like to ask.

Why me? I whispered under my breath then let out a dry, mirthless laugh.

Thinking I might have been heard, I pulled my phone out so I would look less suspicious. I kept my phone powered down most of the time. My parents were still paying the bill, but I didn't get the chance to charge it often. Staring at the blank screen like an idiot, I was just being paranoid. Even if the man heard me laugh, he couldn't have heard me speaking. He was too far away and the words were spoken so low I hardly heard them myself. I was just on edge because I was acting like a crazy stalker.

Done putting on an act, I put away my phone and looked straight ahead once again. Fuck. The man I was stalking had disappeared from sight. His close cropped hair, his brown corduroy jacket, and his enticing physique were nowhere to be seen. I ran ahead almost in a panic.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the alley. In my rush I had nearly passed right by it. The alley squeezed in between the shoe store and the party rentals place, and it served as a shortcut to the old footpath that led up the hill. I took the alley hurriedly, rushed past the fenced in parking lot and came out on the path. It was a gravel covered footpath lined with an old stone wall that was waist high most of the way but sometimes towered overhead. The footpath met up with the only road that went up the hill. I walked on the side of the road, next to thick hedges that hid the houses from gawking tourists.

Here I had to drop back so I wouldn't be noticed. At this time of year, few people had reason to walk up the hill. If the guy noticed me, I would look even more suspicious than on a street in town. Most of the houses on the hill were only used in the summer months. Year round residents were few, mostly older people who grew up here. I would definitely stick out.

After losing sight of my prey once, I didn't like keeping so much distance between us. I locked my eyes on the man's back. Any minute, I expected him to disappear through a hedge and into a courtyard. But we were almost to the top of the hill before the man opened a squeaky gate and walked on a stone path toward a two-story house.

Hanging back and letting the tall evergreen hedge hide me from view, I looked up at the facade of the place. My eyes traveled to the gabled roof. Open storm shutters were on all the windows, and I could see a balcony upstairs that looked toward the sea. From up there, it was probably a nice clear view right to the horizon.

I started at the house, judged it to be old and kind of neglected. There were a few of these old houses that weren't sold off to people who only came here during the summer. Unlike one of those vacation houses that belonged to out of towners with money, this house showed no signs of being modernized. Maybe it had only recently changed hands.

But I wondered if my rescuer might actually be a local. That would explain why he was still here in the off season. Until now, I didn't think I had to worry about running into him. I figured the man who saved me was some do-gooder tourist, who would be long gone by now, and I would never have to set eyes on him.

Having followed him all this way, I stood there hiding behind the hedge with no clue what to do next. What was the point of coming here? I didn't even get a good look at the man. I only caught a glimpse of his chiseled features, stubble along his jaw, a hint of lean muscle under thick