The Water Keeper(19)
Seeing nothing, I cut the wheel to the right and killed the engine, allowing my momentum to turn me ninety degrees while I scanned the surface of the water. When Tabby ran to the back of the boat and began barking his head off, I focused on the water at the stern. Seeing lifeless floating arms and what looked like hair, I stripped off my shirt and dove in, pulling hard in the water as the outgoing current tugged me from her and her from me.
Digging deeper against the water, I crossed the distance and was met by kicking feet, flailing hands, and a choking woman. She was sinking beneath the surface when I reached down, sank a hand beneath her armpit, and lifted her up and out. When her mouth cleared the waterline, she sucked in a giant breath of air, only to choke and cough and fight for more—pulling me down with her. Fighting me, she was making it impossible to get her to the boat, so I shoved her in front of me, snaked an arm around her waist, rested her head against my shoulder and chest, and began side-kicking toward the boat and Tabby. She was frantic, and if I didn’t get her to the boat soon, she’d drown us both.
When Tabby saw us, he dove in, circled us, and led us back to the boat. When we got there, I held her up against the swim ladder, which she clung to. Coughing, choking, and shaking, she was about to lose it. I helped her climb up and sat her on the bench seat, where she cried, rocked back and forth, and hugged herself. Tabby climbed up the swim platform but couldn’t find purchase with his back legs, so I lifted him by the neck and back and set him in the boat. He promptly shook and then sniff-checked the woman.
She was doubled over, crying from her belly, knees in her chest, and bleeding a lot. Tabby stood next to her, licking her face and ears. I grabbed a towel out of one of the fore storage compartments and wrapped it around her shoulders. Finally, I turned on the console and T-top lights. Even in the blue LEDs, covered in mud and blood, she was beautiful. Her hair was matted across her face and her fingers were cut. Several were bleeding, which meant the impact had sent her to the shoaling. Her face, too, was cut above one eye, with the wound trailing down her cheek. Shoulder scrapes too. Evidently her back had taken the brunt of the impact, since that’s where the cuts were deepest. She quickly bled through the towel, spotting it red.
I figured she’d talk when able and the best thing I could do was get her some help, so I cranked the engine and turned north back up the ditch, and only when I got the boat up on plane did I turn to look at the woman. She was staring up at me while Tabby licked the blood off her face.
I pulled into the municipal marina, threw a bow line around a cleat, cut the wheel, and allowed the current to turn the Whaler and bring her alongside the slip while I secured the stern. Hopping onto the dock, I was met by a young attendant. When the lights of the small marina lit the bench seat, he noticed the woman. “Dang. She need help?”
I helped her stand only to realize her skirt was gone. The woman was wearing underwear but not much of it. I grabbed a second towel and wrapped it around her waist, and he helped her up out of the boat. She was in shock; speech wasn’t happening. I looked at the attendant. “You got a doc in the box? Anything close or open this time of night?”
He shook his head. “Closest medical is Baptist South. Forty-five minutes that way.”
“You got a car?”
He frowned. “Do I look like I have a car?”
My options were limited. An Uber driver would never let me in the car, and while paramedics would certainly help with the woman’s physical condition, they couldn’t help her where she needed it. I, on the other hand, maybe could.
First I needed to get her cleaned up before infection set into these cuts. “Where’s the nearest motel?”
He pointed at the lights up the dock and across the street. The doors of the motel were all outward-facing with a view of the marina. I handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “You get me a room, bring me a key, you can have the rest.”
His eyes widened and he disappeared up the dock. I turned to her. Her hair was still matted against her face. She had begun that convulsive crying in which she had no control of her breathing either in or out. The towel across her shoulder was one large spot of red. “Can you walk?”
She put her left leg in front of her right, only to buckle. I caught her, stood her upright, and she fell into me. I picked her up, threw her legs across my arms, and carried her up the gangway and across the street. The attendant came out of the office, pointed to his left. I followed. At the last room before the stairwell, he unlocked the door, stepped out of the way, and placed the key in my right hand.
“One more thing?” I asked.
He waited.
“Check on my boat. Make sure she’s secure and will be there tomorrow when I show up.”
He left without a word.
I carried her into the room and the door shut behind me. Tabby stood attentively. The look on his face said, “What now?”
I set her on the bed, where she curled into a fetal ball. Shaking. I peeled one corner of the towel off her shoulder, but it had begun to clot and stick, so the farther I peeled, the more it reopened everything. If I kept this up, it would hurt her. I stepped into the bathroom, turned the shower on warm, and knelt next to the bed. “Listen, I can call an ambulance . . .”
Staring through the wall toward the IC, she shook her head.
“I need to get a look at how badly you’re cut, but if I keep picking at these towels, it’s only going to make things worse. I need to get you to warm water.”