Beach Ride (9 page)

“Now watch out for the surf,” he said as they approached him at a walk. “There are other swimmers around today, but I don’t see a lifeguard.…” He pointed to the empty tower nearby.

“She’s probably just on her lunch break,” Sheila said.

“I hope so,” said Uncle Willie. “And don’t go in swimming right after you eat, and—”

“All right, all right,” said Sheila. “We know what we’re doing. Trust us.”

Uncle Willie smiled. “It’s just because I love you, you know.”

“I know,” Sheila said. And she gave him a hug. “We’ll see you in a couple of hours. We’ll wait for you to pick this stuff up before we ride back, okay?”

“Deal,” he said. But then he lingered.

“Good-bye,” Sheila said pointedly. He waved and then left.

Sheila and Carole untacked the horses and put lead ropes on their halters so they could be secured to a palm tree in the shade. Carole took the two buckets Uncle Willie had brought and filled them with water
from the nearby freshwater fountain. The horses seemed grateful for the drink after the brisk ride on the beach. Carole refilled the buckets and left them where the horses could reach them if they needed more.

While Carole took care of the horses, Sheila took care of herself and Carole. By the time Carole was done, Sheila had stripped down to her bathing suit and laid out a fabulous spread for their picnic. Aunt Joanna had managed to put in some things that they hadn’t even known about.

“Deviled eggs!” Sheila declared.

“And look at those fresh veggies,” said Carole, taking off her riding clothes as well. The warm sun felt wonderful.

The deviled eggs and fresh vegetables were just the appetizers. There was cold fried chicken, potato salad, and lots of juice. There were choices of fruit, brownies, and chocolate-chip cookies for dessert. Carole and Sheila couldn’t decide which of those they liked the best, so they did the only logical thing and ate them all.

They gave a few of the leftover vegetables and fruits to the horses, who seemed particularly grateful for the carrots and apples, but munched the green peppers as well.

The last item in the cooler was a box of after-dinner mints!

“Your mother doesn’t miss anything, does she?” Carole asked, taking one of the mints.

“She can be totally annoying,” Sheila said, and Carole didn’t have to ask what she meant. “But she’s also kind, generous, and thoughtful, and a wonderful mother.”

“Those are traits that run in the family,” Carole said, reaching for another mint and thinking of Aunt Joanna’s brother, her own father.

“Yeah,” Sheila agreed.

Carole and Sheila each lay on the blanket, propping themselves up with their elbows and looking out at the ocean and the boats and ships that seemed to move so slowly on its surface. Behind them, in the shade, the horses rested, snorting contentedly every once in a while. Nearby, a few fellow picnickers finished their meals, dabbled in the water, and worked on sand castles.

Carole eased her feet under a layer of silky white sand. It was hard to believe that just about a thousand miles away, her friends were wearing sweaters, maybe jackets, and here on the Florida beach, Carole was considering getting into the water to cool off. It was too soon after lunch, however. She’d just have to rest
a little bit before swimming. She lowered herself so she lay flat, put her hat over her face, and closed her eyes. She sighed with contentment. After all, what could be more perfect than perfect weather on a perfect beach after a perfect meal and a perfect horseback ride?

She slept.

“C
OME ON
,
SURF
’
S
up,” Sheila said, nudging Carole awake. Carole looked at her watch. She’d been napping for half an hour. That should be long enough for the delicious lunch to settle down. It was time to play in the water.

She stood up and dusted the sand off her. She looked around. The horses were still safely in the shade. Nearby, picnickers were packing up the remains of their lunches and heading back home, so she and Sheila were the only ones in the area. Carole liked that. It helped her to pretend that she and Sheila were surviving alone together on this beautiful
beach with only the water to play in and only the horses to ride.

Sheila took her hand. “Come on, sleepyhead,” she said. “Let’s go!”

They ran down to the water’s edge. The aqua waves were breaking about thirty yards from shore. By the time the water reached the beach, it was just a gentle white foam that licked at the girls’ toes while they stood tentatively, waiting for the right moment to enter.

“It’s so warm!” Carole declared. Every time she’d swum in the ocean, it had been quite chilly, but that wasn’t the case here. It was warm, welcoming, and velvety smooth. She waded out confidently. Sheila was right by her side.

The water remained very shallow, knee-deep, for quite a while, and then it dropped suddenly to waist-deep. From there, it progressed. The girls walked out until they thought it was about shoulder-deep, but they couldn’t tell for sure because the water never stayed one depth long enough for them to measure. They were near where the waves were breaking, and Carole could feel the powerful surge of the ocean water. It was something.

“Never turn your back on the ocean!” Sheila said, and she said it just in time, too, because when Carole
looked over her shoulder, all she could see was an enormous wave that seemed about to swallow her.

“Jump!” Sheila called out.

Carole jumped. She rose about two feet from her own strength and another five with the power of the wave. The surf picked her up, lifted her high, brought her toward the beach, and then set her down gently. She had time only to take a nice deep breath before the returning water began pushing her back, carrying her toward the next incoming wave.

It was like Space Mountain, Big Thunder Mountain, and the Mad Tea Party all rolled into one, only there was no waiting time, because right away another wave was coming. Carole jumped the next wave and then watched Sheila bodysurf toward shore.

“That looks like fun,” she called to her cousin.

“It is!” Sheila replied, and then gave Carole a few tips on how to do it. When Carole was ready to give it a try, Sheila pointed out a good wave.

Carole faced the beach and felt the powerful push-pull of the ocean behind her. She looked over her shoulder at the coming wave.

“Now!” Sheila yelled.

Carole pushed off from the bottom, rising high into the curl of the wave. She could feel the swell of water pushing her upward and toward the shore. She put her
arms out straight in front of herself and pointed her toes as Sheila had instructed, thinking that the more she resembled a surfboard, the better off she’d be.

The wave propelled her forward at an incredible speed. She was completely surrounded by it and trapped in its power, rushing toward the shore. Then, just as she began to slow down, the crest of the wave caught up with her, folded itself over her, and wrapped itself around her. At the last possible second, Carole remembered one more piece of Sheila’s advice and took a deep breath. The wave came crashing down on her, pulled her deeper into the water, and drew her back away from the shore. A second later she felt herself pop up to the surface. She lifted her head, cleared her eyes of the salt water, and began laughing.

It was almost as much fun as horseback riding!

“Isn’t it fabulous?” Sheila asked.

“Absolutely,” agreed Carole. “As long as you don’t mind getting sand in everything.”

Sheila laughed. “It’s a small price to pay for something that’s this much fun. It’s even better with a flutterboard—wait here while I go get it. Don’t do any surfing without me. I’ll be right back.”

Carole didn’t mind waiting. She played in the
waves, jumping over them and diving into them until Sheila could get back with the board. Sheila had to go quite a distance, too. Their picnic area seemed to have moved about fifty yards down the beach.

Carole swam outward toward the place where the waves began to crest. She wanted to be ready to use the flutterboard as soon as Sheila got back with it. A nice-sized wave came. Carole jumped up into it and enjoyed the frothy lathering she got as the crest passed her by. The wave had broken so quickly that she hadn’t had time to take the breath she’d needed, and she found herself with a snootful of salt water. She coughed and tried to clear out her nose. Then she rubbed at her eyes, now tearing because of the salty water.

She was so busy with the problems the last wave had caused, she never saw the next wave when it came. Only instinct caused her to take a deep breath when it hit.

In an instant Carole was completely submerged in the surf. This time, instead of propelling her upward and toward the shore, it pulled her down, tugging fiercely at her feet, dragging her down to the sandy bottom.

Carole had never felt a force like this. There was no fighting it. It was mightier than a team of horses,
stronger than anything she’d ever known. Her hair swarmed around her, tugged every which way by the water. Her body scraped the bottom, and where the sand had once seemed silky, it now abraded her skin. And her lungs screamed for air.

Carole didn’t know how far she traveled or how long she stayed underwater, but when the water above her lightened, she knew she was near the surface and could finally use her arms to help. She struggled, swimming and fighting against the powerful force. She kicked, remembering her own horse’s powerful legs as he flew over the highest jumps.

“Up, Starlight, up!” she urged herself. And then she popped to the surface and gasped, coughing and sputtering.

At first she was so relieved to be breathing that she didn’t realize she still seemed to have no control over her destiny. She was out beyond the line where the waves broke, and she was being pulled farther away from the shore at every second. She could breathe all right, but she could feel the water pulling at her feet, as if it felt cheated and wanted to swallow her up again. The next time it might be for good. Carole was too exhausted to win another battle against the ocean.

Sheila. Where was Sheila?

Carole squinted. Her cousin had just picked up the flutterboard and was returning to the ocean. Carole waved for help.

Sheila waved back.

Carole cried for help.

Sheila waved, obviously completely unaware that Carole was in trouble.

“Help!”

Sheila held up the flutterboard to show that she had it.

Carole wasn’t going to get help from Sheila. What could her cousin do, anyway? If she came out into this water, then the two of them might be killed.

Carole tried swimming. It took all her might to get her feet up out of the deep water and begin kicking. She moved her arms. Carole was a good swimmer. She’d been swimming all her life. But she’d never been swimming like this. With each stroke it was harder to lift her arms and kick her feet. With each stroke she was farther from shore.

Sheila waded into the water and looked at Carole again. Then she saw what was happening. Carole wasn’t playing in the waves. Carole was in a riptide, and she was being carried out into the ocean—out where the liners and gas tankers were, out where there was nothing but water and danger and, for swimmers
—she didn’t even want to think about it. This was trouble. Big time.

“Help!” Sheila cried. The nearby picnickers had gone, and the lifeguard tower was still empty. They were alone and Carole was in great danger.

Sheila looked around desperately. All she saw was the peaceful beach where they’d had their picnic and where their horses were now enjoying the shade of the coconut palm. Maverick looked up when she looked up at him. His ears flicked and his nostrils flared as if he understood there was danger.

Maverick, her beloved pony. He could help. He was the only possible answer.

Without a second’s hesitation, Sheila dropped the flutterboard and ran to the palm tree. She unhitched the knot in Maverick’s lead rope and leapt onto his back.

“Let’s go, boy,” she said. He went.

Carole continued to struggle against the water. Every inch of her body told her she must not allow herself to be dragged out into the ocean. She kicked, she used her arms, she kept moving, and she kept going farther out.

Suddenly there was a tug at her feet as the water seemed to suck her under again. She filled her lungs with air just before she went under. Again, she was
relentlessly pulled by the force of the water, down and out she went. She was swirled around as if by water going down a drain. Then, as suddenly as she’d gone down, she popped up. She gasped for air and looked around. The beach was very far away now, the few figures mere dots on the pure white sand. There was one that was bigger, though.

Carole looked carefully. She couldn’t see very well because of the glare, and she was becoming so tired that she couldn’t hold her arm up to shade her eyes for more than a few seconds.

It wasn’t a person she saw entering the water. It was more than a person; it was a horse, a horse she’d seen before, but she couldn’t remember where. And the rider—she knew the rider. Definitely. But who was it? The water tugged again, then. Carole took another deep breath and prepared for another terrifying ride to the deep.