Page 9 of Here & There

Nate, who’s jogging alongside us holding Tink’s leash, meets my eyes. His are like dinner plates.

“Rice?” he whispers.

“Call Fred,” I say. “Tell her we found a woman in the water, and I’m bringing her to the Dinghy to warm up.”

“Who’s F-F-Fred?” the woman asks.

“Chief of police?—”

“What?” She pushes away from me. “I don’t need the p-p-pol-l-l.”

She can’t even finish a sentence.

“We need to focus on keeping you from getting hypothermic,” I say.

I reach for her to help her again, but she takes an unsteady step back. “I said I’m f-f-fine.”

Despite my worry, a flicker of irritation hits me. “Really? Fine people jump into the ocean in April fully dressed?” The ocean here is cold but swimmable in the summer, but in April, it’s still frigid.

She narrows her eyes. “I’llb-b-bef-f-fine,” she corrects. Then a shudder goes through her. “I just need to get to t-t-town.” She tries to walk, but her knees give way.

I catch her, holding her up. Thankfully, she lets me hang on.

“Are you in trouble with the law, lady?”

Reality claps back. For both of us, apparently, because the woman grits her chattering teeth. “No. I just d-d-don’t need you to make a big d-d-deal.”

“Okay,” I say, steadying her back on her feet. “I won’t call Fred. On the condition that I take you inside to warm up.”

When she doesn’t say anything, a thought occurs to me. She’s dressed in one of those pantsuit things. The only people who dress like that over here are the corporate types over on Business Island—what the locals call the island off the beach with the retreat center.

If she didn’t fall in, she had to have jumped in and swum over here. There are very few reasons someone would do that any time of year, let alone in April, when it’s still mostly cool, the water frigid. “Did someone hurt you?” I ask, my voice steely. My arm is still against her back to keep her upright, and she must feel me tense, because she quickly shakes her head. “I came here of my own v-v-volition.”

She says it with enough conviction that I relax slightly. Still, I tread carefully.

I point to the Rusty Dinghy. “That’s my bar. Everyone in town knows me. That’s my son.” I point my chin at Nate. “And that’s Stu. He’s an asshole, but he’s harmless. Just like me, I guess. I’d take you into town right away, but I’m worried as hell about you. Your lips are blue, and hypothermia’s a real threat in that water outside the summer months. Please, let me bring you inside. After we warm you up, I can personally drive you wherever you need to go.”

She looks up at me, and suddenly, her lips curve into a tiny smile. “You’re the hot b-b-bartender.”

I’m so distracted it takes me a moment to register her words. “What?”

“I told you she was a groupie!” Stu says.

I grit my teeth. “Stu, me telling you to shut the hell up a minute ago was me being nice. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Mac!” Nate says.

When I look at him, he points his eyes in the direction of the woman.

She’s shaking hard now. “Okay,” she whispers. “W-w-warm.”

I don’t wait. I swing her up into my arms and carry her the rest of the way to the bar.

I swear I hear her stuttering something about being too heavy, but I don’t dignify that with an answer.

“Get the door,” I tell Nate.

“I got it,” Stu says, overtaking Nate and pulling open the door.

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