Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (33 page)

Visions of the night Bailey drowned flashed through the dark caverns of his mind. He remembered treading the water, calling Bailey’s name. He remembered studying the surface for some sign of his brother and finding none. He remembered the despair and shock that followed.

It occurred to him he was in the water for the first time since that night. His fear of losing Sam and Caden had superseded his fear of the water.

He lifted his head, drawing a deep breath, and looked for them over the gentle swells. He caught sight of Caden’s orange cap and Sam’s wet hair, and relief washed through him. Caden flailed, and Sam went under. He remembered reading in the paper the summer before of a rescuer who was drowned by a panic-stricken swimmer.

Terror propelled his body forward.
Hang on, Sam!
He’d give his life for them in a heartbeat. He was still fifty yards off, a lifetime away for anyone fighting to stay afloat.

He could sense when he passed the point where the ocean moved toward shore. His speed increased, and he made better time. The undertow was strong, assisting his progress.

Lifting his head to draw a breath, he saw Sam above water again. They were only several yards away now. “I’m coming!” He put his head down and plunged forward.

The last few yards seemed agonizingly long. Finally, his fingers touched something and he came up. Caden grabbed onto him first, and he wrapped an arm around her. She gasped for air, sobbing. “Grab on, Sam.” She must be relieved to have Caden’s weight removed. He didn’t know how she’d stayed afloat at all.

Sam grabbed onto his life vest. Fear glazed her eyes, and her breath came hard and fast.

He removed the life ring from his shoulder and put it over Caden’s head. “You’re okay, sweetie,” he said between breaths. “Lift your arms and hang on to the preserver. You’ll float. I’ve got you.” He helped her get the preserver on, having to pull one hand at a time off him and thread it through the hole. “Hang on to the sides, Caden.” The words were unnecessary; she grabbed the ring in a death clutch.

Landon reached underwater and untied the soggy strap of his life vest. When he’d worked the knot loose, he slipped it over his head and put it over Sam, then wrapped the strap around her waist and tied it securely. Sam clutched the vest with white fingers. Her body stilled, and she rested her head against the cushion.

Landon let go and kicked to stay buoyant. Caden’s sobs had quieted to shuddering breaths. He looked between them. “Everybody okay?”

Caden’s arms trembled and her teeth chattered. “H—how are we going to get back?”

The terror on her face broke him in half. He pulled her to him, pulled Sam to him, and held them there, careful not to put his weight on either of them. Sam leaned on his shoulder, and he set a kiss on the top of her wet head. He could have lost them both. If he’d been a little later, if he hadn’t looked for them, he would have lost them forever. The thought was a knife straight to his heart.

His legs began to fatigue, and he knew he’d let them rest as long as he dared. “Okay, girls, here’s what we’re going to do.” He pulled back and spoke with confidence. “We’ll swim parallel to the shore to the end of the riptide, then we’ll swim in.” He grabbed Sam’s life vest. “Grab Caden’s ring so we stay together.” Sam did as he asked.

“Ready?” he asked.

They nodded.

The three of them began their trek down the shoreline, swimming slowly as a chain, but Landon used his strength to pull them along. Sam kicked as much as she could but needed frequent breaks. He imagined her legs must be shot. His own were beginning to burn.

He kept his face in the water, using large strokes and drawing breath when necessary. After what seemed like an hour, he turned them in gradually, at an angle to the shore. His fingers, clamped on Sam’s vest, were a knotted spasm, and his lungs burned from lack of oxygen, but he kept going. He could tell by their progress that they were finally free of the riptide. Survival was only a matter of persistence now.

Sam began kicking harder, seeming to sense the end of the ordeal, and Caden also showed a renewed burst of energy as they neared shore. When they approached the end of a dock, Landon let his feet sink below him and felt the blessed sensation of solid ground. His feet sank into the silt.

Sam, too, stood upright, and they walked Caden in until she could stand. As they left the water, Caden’s legs wobbled, and Landon wrapped an arm around her, keeping her upright until they reached the shore.

There, Sam and Caden fell on the grass, eyes closed, chests heaving, seemingly heedless of the sand sticking to their faces. Landon lowered himself beside them, taking deep gulps of air. “Everyone okay? Caden?”

He touched her shoulder, and she turned toward him. Twilight had fallen, and he couldn’t see well enough to read her expression. “I’m . . . okay.”

“Sam?” He laid his hand on her wet head, and she nodded.

He lay back against the grass and dragged in air as fast as he could. His girls were safe, and that was all that mattered.

Thirty-three

S
am lifted the covers and
let Caden slide between the sheets. Her hair, still damp from the warm bath, fanned out on the pillow.

Sam pulled the quilt to Caden’s chin, then laid her hand against her daughter’s forehead. “You all right?”

Caden closed her eyes and nodded. Sam watched her for a moment, the realization that she’d almost lost her daughter hitting her like a hurricane-force wind. She ran her fingers down her cheek, and Caden suddenly opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” A tear ran across her face and down into her pillow.

“Shhh. It was an accident.” Caden had explained as Landon carried her home that the ball blew off the pier. She jumped in to retrieve it, but the ball moved a little farther away, and before she knew it, she was being pulled off her feet. It was a miracle she was able to get to the ball, or she never would have made it until Sam saw her.

“Not that,” Caden said, turning toward Sam. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. Sorry about what I said to you today.” Her face crumpled.

Sam sank onto the bed, reaching for her, and Caden came into her arms. Her skin smelled like the generic raspberry soap Sam had bought at the Stop & Shop, but her hair still held the scent of salt water. “It’s okay,” Sam whispered.

She’d take Caden any way she could get her. Her daughter could fight with her, give her attitude, and tell her she hated her if she wanted. It was enough that Sam could feel the smoothness of her skin, could feel the weight of Caden against her.

She tightened her arms around her daughter and felt the dampness of Caden’s tears through the oversized T-shirt. “I love you so much, baby.” When was the last time she’d said the words? When was the last time she’d held Caden?

Why, Sam? Why has it been so long?
The answer had been deep down in the place where she hid her pain. It rose to the surface while they were on the water, when the fear of losing Caden hit her full force, like a rogue wave.

But the fact was, the shadow of that wave had been towering over her a long time. The fear that she might lose Caden. That it was dangerous to love her too much. Because one day Caden might not be there to love. And what would become of Sam then?

Caden’s arms loosened, flopping to the bed, and she fell back against the pillow. “I’m so tired.”

Sam ran her palm across Caden’s cheek, drying the tears, and brushed the wet strands from her face. “I know. We’ll talk in the morning.”

The morning. When they would leave. The past two hours had been like a bubble of time suspended outside of reality. What had happened on the water held significance, and Sam knew Landon’s rescue affected much more than their survival. She just wasn’t sure what.

She stood, her legs wobbly from fatigue, and pulled the quilt to Caden’s chin. Sam flipped off the bedside lamp, and darkness washed the room.

“Mom?” Alarm laced the word. “Will you stay with me?”

Sam sensed Caden’s hand fumbling for her through the darkness. She’d planned on a warm bath and a shampoo to rid the smell of ocean from her hair.

It could wait until morning. “Sure.” She walked around the bed and got in, pulling Caden close, her back spooned into Sam’s stomach.

“’Night,” Caden whispered.

“Good night, Caden.” Sam nuzzled the top of her daughter’s head with her chin and tucked her knees up inside of hers. In that moment, she remembered something. Sam had been six and came home from kindergarten sick. Her mom tucked her into bed and lay down with her. Sam remembered her mother’s warmth against her back, the security of her closeness. Sam didn’t know what had happened to change her mom; maybe her dad’s death was to blame. But her mom had loved her in her own way.

Had Sam done any better? She had stayed with Caden, present in body but absent in spirit. In her own way, she had abandoned her daughter too. Emotionally, she’d been absent since the day Caden was born. Her soul grieved at the realization. So much time lost. How many regrets would she have had if today was her last day? If it was their last day? Caden never would have experienced being fully loved. Sam had told Landon her glass was empty, but Caden’s needed filling now.

Her arms tightened around Caden, holding her daughter snuggly against her chest. Tomorrow was a new day, and change was possible. She had a second chance to be the kind of mother she wanted to be.

Sam’s eyes stung, a foreign sensation.
Nothing will stop me from
loving you, baby. You’ll see.

She closed her eyes and drew in fresh oxygen, appreciating that simple act as she never had. How terrible it was to struggle for breath. To take a gulp of air, not knowing if it was your last. She thought of Bailey and hoped he hadn’t suffered that night. She hoped he’d been unconscious and unaware when he slipped into the water.

Sam’s mind spun back hours before to when she spotted Landon on the water. She thought she was seeing things, but he was there. Like always, he was there. Her salvation. Just when she thought it was too late, that they were going under for the last time, he scooped them up and saved them.

Had she even thanked him? If not for him, they would be dead. The thought made her shudder. They owed him their lives, and she hadn’t even thanked him. A knot clogged her throat. She’d been so mean to him, pushing him away, hurting him, and still, he stayed close.

Sam shifted her aching ankle slowly, trying not to disturb Caden. Her daughter didn’t budge as she moved, so Sam turned onto her back, her muscles protesting. She was going to be a mess in the morning. She’d probably set her ankle back three days, and she wondered if she’d be able to work come Monday. She didn’t want to think about Monday, or even tomorrow.

Outside, a loon called, joining nature’s orchestra. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. Caden’s form was still, and Sam knew she was sleeping by the steady sound of her deep breath.

Although her own body was limp with fatigue, her mind whirled like the relentless wind. The night song outside her window beckoned her. She slid from under the covers, moving slowly and quietly. When her weight left the mattress, she checked Caden. As tired as her daughter was, she’d sleep soundly and until late in the morning.

The wood floor was cold against her bare feet, and bits of dried sand stuck to her heels as she limped through the living room. She unlocked the back door and stepped onto the porch, leaving the door open so she could hear if Caden called.

The night smelled like roses and salt and fresh grass. The loon called again over the buzz of insects, and a wave washed the shoreline as if trying to shush the creatures.

The wind whispered through the screen, drawing her skin into gooseflesh. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared into the darkness of the night. A thin veil of clouds shrouded the moon, dimming its light.

Sam looked toward the east, two doors down where Landon lived.

Landon. As sure and steady as the tide. He’d been there when others abandoned her, he’d been there after she hurt him, he’d been there when she needed him most.

And you didn’t even say thank you.
Sam’s feet urged her in that direction. She had so much to say.

But it was late and his lights were off. Besides, she didn’t want to wander so far from Caden. She turned and hobbled toward the nearest chair.

A distinct sound reached her ears, cutting through the nocturnal noises. A quiet thud, like something hitting wood.

She walked to the screen door and opened it, then set it gently back in place. Her tired legs wobbled as she took the porch steps. The grass was soft and cool against her feet, tickling her bare toes with their fringe.

The thud sounded again, and she followed the echo down the slope of the yard, listening through the lullaby of the water stroking the shoreline. The wind lifted her hair from her shoulders and made the hardware on Miss Biddle’s flag
ping softly, a cymbal for the night song.

Sam stopped at the water’s edge, listening. The sound she heard had ceased, but a shadowy movement down the pier caught her eye. She stepped up onto the boards, her eyes fixed on its end, squinting through the darkness.

Her feet carried her down the pier’s wooden length. Halfway there, she recognized the shadow as a person. Another two steps and she saw the form was lying down, hands clasped behind the head, feet hanging over the end.