Reckless Abandon(8)

My body is trembling when two arms wrap around my chest from under my arms and pull me back. My body arches forward, my head and feet curving in as I am dragged in retrograde like a rag doll backward and upward. As soon as my head is above water I gasp for air and start coughing from so deep within I sound like a barking seal.

Hair is stuck to the front of my face and I can’t see anything as my body continues to be manhandled. One very strong, thick arm wraps around my torso as the other releases its hold on me.

“Can you hold on?” A raspy, deep voice says from behind me. The accent is American.

Trying to process what is happening, I swallow back and attempt to understand what he’s saying.

“I need you to hold onto the side of the boat. Can you do that?” The male voice asks again. Taking my right hand, I brush the hair away from my face and reach up with my left hand, securing my body to the boat in question.

When I am in place, the American lets me go and hoists himself onto the boat in a rather rough manner. My body bobs in the water as the boat sways from his weight. No sooner is he on the boat does he reach down and lifts me from under my armpits onto the boat as well. His thumbs leave a prodding feeling in my skin.

He sets me down on a seat and my stomach curls in, hugging my chest to my knees. My clothes are soaked and I’ve lost a shoe. My body is shaking, frightened from what I can now acknowledge was a near drowning.

Looking around, I notice this is not my boat. It’s slightly larger in size to the one I was on and far more luxurious. My eyes widen with panic until I hear Leah’s voice yelling over the commotion.

“Emma! Oh my God! Are you okay?” Her voice is close but not coming from the boat I am on. I look around and find her, about thirty feet from where I am. She is standing up and visibly shaken from her place on Raphael’s boat. Her clothes are also soaked. I must have pulled her into the water at the same time.

“I’m okay. You?” I assure her.

“Still intact.” She calls out. “Where’s your bag?”

My bag? I pat my body and then do a quick search at the space around me.

Oh, my God.

“My bag!” I exclaim, standing quickly, I nearly fall overboard again as I launch my body toward the side of the boat to look in the water.

A giant hand pulls me back. “That bag is long gone. No use looking for it.”

I turn my head, and finally have a chance to look at the man who rescued me from the water. He, too, is dripping wet and ringing water from his green, linen button down shirt. Quite possible one of the biggest men I’ve seen in person, he looks like he could be a UFC fighter. His hair is buzzed close to his head and his brown eyes are large to accommodate his wide neck.

He’s not fat in any way. To the contrary, he is rock solid with large forearms and a broad chest. His calves look like they’re the size of my thighs.

Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But he’s built. This man is built to protect people.

My bottom lip trembles. The back of my eyes burns as hot water pools along the ridges. “You don’t understand. I need that bag. Everything, and I mean everything I own is in that bag.”

“Sorry to break it to you,” he says, pulling his wet shirt away from his chest. “There is no way you’re getting your bag back in this water.”

My body starts to shiver as this terrible, awful feeling of helplessness pours over me. A dark, thick, sinister cloud of despair settles over my heart and my head fills with thoughts of desolation. It’s a familiar feeling. The one that Dr. Schueler told me was from post-traumatic stress. The one that I have fought off but sneaks back to pay a visit every once in a while.

What have I done?

Everything is gone.

I start to cry uncontrollably, my sobs growing bigger and deeper. My lungs feel as if they are being crushed down by a leaded weight. I try to breathe, but I can only gasp.

The stranger in front of me shifts his body to the side, leaning forward a bit and then pulling back. He has no idea how to comfort a woman. And it’s a good thing. If he touches me I just might flip out on him. If I can catch my breath, that is.

My daze is slightly lifted by the sound of Leah’s voice. She is having Raphael drive her closer to me. When her boat reaches mine, she launches herself over the rails and swings her arms around my convulsing form.

“I was so scared. You didn’t come up for air and I thought you were . . .” Her grip gets so tight on me I know exactly how she was going to end that sentence.

She lifts her head and I see her eyes bloodshot. She turns her head to the American sitting across from me, “You saved my sister.” Leah launches herself onto the giant man and gives him an impressive hug.

How long was I under that water?

Another shiver runs up my spine as I shake off any thought of what could have been.

“It was no problem.” His smile is polite. He acts as if anyone would have done the same.

“I dropped my bag on my way down.”

Leah releases her hold on the giant and looks at me. Wiping a tear from her face, she asks, “I know you wanted to bring our things, but what exactly was in the bag?”

I glance up toward the sky and wish the bag would magically float to the surface of the sea. It doesn’t, so I list the items that were in the bag.

“My passport, your passport, our euros that we exchanged at the airport, our credit cards and my phone.”