Page 114 of My Favorite Mistake

He scampered across the roof and scaled down the ladder, jumping off the third rung. “Ophelia, call the Coast Guard. Call 911.”

Ophelia jumped out of her chair. “What? Why?”

“Connor’s in the river.” He darted to a shed in the corner of the yard and reemerged a second later carrying two life vests and a dusty snorkel mask.

“Oh God.” Ophelia patted her shorts and hastily pulled out her phone.

By the time Liza had climbed down the ladder, Scott had already sprinted through the gate.

“Scott!” Ophelia shouted in a panicked voice, phone held to her ear. “Do not go in after him!”

Suffocation gripped Liza’s chest, and her eyelids were stretched so wide that the sun seared her pupils, and she thought her eyes might pop out of her head. “What’s in the river?”

“A current!” Ophelia stamped her foot and growled. “Pick up already!”

“How bad is it?”

“It’s so strong that even an Olympic swimmer wouldn’t stand a chance. That section of it is also the deepest point in the entire Mississippi.” She pointed at the gate. “Those two going in there issuicide.”

The heavy feeling in Liza’s stomach increased ten-fold, and she spun on the balls of her feet, breaking into a run out of the yard.

Scott had already reached the end of the street by the time Liza was sprinting down the sidewalk. He paused for a half-second to check for cars before he darted across the street and up the grassy levee.

A handful of neighbors were gathering on the edges of their lawns, shielding their eyes. Luke stepped out of the door to the bar, hands on his hips and wearing a rare serious expression.

“Scott?” He glanced at Liza as she continued to sprint after Scott. “What the hell is going on?”

“Connor’s in the river! Go find the Captain!” Scott yelled, just before descending the other side of the levee.

Liza leaped across the road, a car blaring its horn at her. She jogged up and over the levee, just in time to see Scott tugging on the snorkel mask, dragging the life vests behind him, as he trudged into the murky, brown water. What he was trudging toward, she had no idea, because now she couldn’t see Connor anywhere.

Her pulse thudded in her ears, and Ophelia’s warning hissed in her mind.

Suicide. Suicide. Suicide.

Scott dove under the water, leaving the life vests floating on the surface. The river was a flat, coffee-colored film, and Liza was gripped with fear that she’d never see either of them ever again.

Activity hummed behind her. Footsteps were pounding the pavement, and a body screeched to a halt next to her. The person panted, and she turned her head to see Ophelia. Face flushed, expression twisted with anxiety, her dark hazel eyes skipped and skimmed over the river, and she clutched her cheeks.

“Oh God.” Ophelia gasped for air and gripped her chest. “Where are they?”

As if her words were a prayer, Scott’s head bobbed up several yards out, and he heaved his arms, and Connor’s head emerged a second later.

They were drifting. Not too speedily, but there was a noticeable drag on their bodies toward the eastern end of the river. With one arm wedged under an unconscious Connor’s armpits, Scott managed to catch the life vests and tugged one on. He struggled to keep Connor afloat as he shoved his limp arms through the holes of the other vest, and then Scott began paddling toward the bank. His progress was infuriatingly limited, and Liza seriously considered running in to grab them both.

After several minutes, Scott had only inched them slightly toward land, and the two men were even farther down the river. Ophelia jogged parallel on the wet dirt and sand, and Liza followed her, both of their eyes glued to the two heads in the water.

Scott abruptly stopped paddling and shifted so he floated partially on his back, holding Connor close to his chest, as he appeared to be completely spent.

Ophelia gasped again. “Baby! Keep swimming!” She clasped her mouth, and tears welled in her eyes. “Oh my Lord. Oh God. Where the hell is the Coast Guard? Where are the firemen? My husband is drowning and none of us can do any—”

“Scott!” came a voice to their right just as a life preserver attached to a long rope whizzed through the air and plopped on the surface within arm’s reach of Scott. “Grab the ring!”

Captain Deneau stood about a hundred yards down from Liza and Ophelia with the other end of the rope wrapped around his shoulder and elbow.

Still gripping Connor, Scott looped his arm through the life preserver, and the Captain angled all his weight against it as he pulled. For an older man, he appeared to be in almost as good of shape as his son, and his mammoth hands gripped the rope as he tugged in long, slow hefts. And Scott and Connor slowly, but surely floated closer to the bank.

Scott finally found his footing and briefly collapsed on the sand. He yanked the snorkel mask off his face before pushing himself up to his hands and knees as he stripped the life vests off himself and Connor. He flipped Connor’s lifeless body onto his back, tilted his head up, but before he could begin CPR, the Captain elbowed his way in and began pressing Connor’s chest in swift, hard compressions.

---