The rip was so strong Max was swept south the moment he hit the water. Anything in that pool would be tugged straight out, past the reef and out to sea.
He surfaced, already being pulled.
But Max had swum like a fish as a kid, and for the past few years gym work and swimming had sometimes seemed the only thing that had kept him sane.
He couldn’t swim against the rip but if he headed diagonally across he might collide with...with what he hoped to find. That slip of crimson.
He cast one long look at the pool, trying to judge where he’d last seen that flash of crimson.
He put his head down and swam.
* * *
Was she nuts? Trying to swim in this surf? But if she got past the breakers she only had the rip to contend with. She could deal with the rip, she thought. She knew enough not to panic. The guy on the boat would have seen her. If she could reach Sefina and hold on to her, she could tread water until help came.
Even if the guy hadn’t seen her, she was due to go on duty at midday. The staff knew she’d gone for a walk on the beach. If she didn’t return they’d come down and find Bugsy, find her clothes... Once the rip dragged her out, she could tread water and hope...
Yeah, very safe, she thought grimly as she dived through another wave. Not.
What would she do if she reached them? The lifeguard part of her was already playing out scenarios.
The quickest way to kill yourself is to put yourself within reach of someone who’s drowning. They’ll pull you down as they try to save themselves.
There was her instructor again.
Sefina wouldn’t try to save herself, though. Sefina wanted to die.
Sefina...
She’d known how unhappy the girl was, but in the post-cyclone chaos all Hettie had been able to give the young woman had been swift hugs between periods of imperative medical need. She’d promised her she was safe in the hospital. She’d promised they’d sort things out when things had settled.
She hadn’t realised time had been so achingly short.
Hettie surfaced from the last breaker and looked around wildly. The rip was stronger than she’d thought. Maybe she’d missed them.
And then she saw someone else in the water, swimming strongly across the rip. The guy from the boat?
There went her source of help if she got into trouble, she thought grimly. All of them in the water? This was breaking every lifesaving rule, but it was too late to back out now. She was watching the rim of the foam where the deep pool ended and the relative calm began.
There! A sliver of crimson.
She must have shouted because the swimming guy raised his head. She waved and pointed.
He raised a hand in silent acknowledgement and they both put their heads down and swam.
* * *
He could see her now, or he could see the swirl of crimson shawl she’d wrapped around her body. If he could just get closer...
The pull of the rip was hauling him backwards. By rights it should’ve propelled the woman’s body towards him.
Was she stuck on the edge of the reef? Had the shawl snagged?
The rocks were too close to the surface for safety. He should stay well clear...
He didn’t.
* * *
This was crazy. Suicidal. She couldn’t swim into the foam. She daren’t. As it was, the rip was pulling so hard she was starting to doubt her ability to get herself to safety.
A breaker crashed on the rocks and threw a spray of water, blocking her vision. She could see nothing.
With a sob of fear and frustration she stopped trying and let herself be carried outward.
Free from the foam she could tread water. She could look again.
She could see nothing but white. Nothing...
* * *
There! Max’s hands had been groping blindly in front of him, but the touch of fabric had him grabbing.
He had her, but she was wedged in rocks. He was being washed by breaker after breaker. He couldn’t see. He pulled upwards to take a tighter hold—and a child fell free into his arms.
The child must have been clinging, or tied within the shawl. The rip caught them again and they were tugged outwards.
He had a child in his arms. He had no choice but to let himself go. To ride the rip...
He was pushing the child up, rolling onto his back, trying to get the little one into the air. The water was sweeping...
‘Here!’
It was a yell and suddenly someone was beside him. A woman, dark-haired, fierce.
‘Give him to me. Help Sefina. Please!’
‘You can’t hold him.’ He didn’t even know if the child was alive.
Her face was suddenly inches from his, soaking curls plastered across her eyes, green eyes flashing determination. ‘I can. I know what to do. Trust me.’
And what was there in that that made him believe her?
What was there in that that made him thrust the limp little body into her arms and turn once again towards the rocks?
He had to trust her. He had to hope.
* * *
Joni was breathing. He’d been limp when he’d been thrust at her, but as she rolled and prepared to breathe for him—yes, she could do it in the water; lifesaver training had been useful—the little one gasped and choked and gasped again.
His eyes were shut, as if he’d simply closed down, ready for death. How many children drowned like this? Thirteen years as a nurse had taught Hettie that when children slipped untended into water they didn’t struggle. They drowned silently.
Somehow, though, despite not fighting, Joni must have breathed enough air to survive. As she touched his mouth with her lips he gasped and opened his eyes.
‘Joni.’ She managed to get his name out, even though she was fighting for breath herself. ‘It’s okay. Let’s get you to the beach.’
His huge brown eyes stared upwards wildly. Joni was fifteen months old, a chubby toddler with beautiful coffee-coloured skin and a tangle of dark curls. He was part islander, part...
Well, that was the problem, Hettie thought, her heart clenching in fear for his mother.
She couldn’t do anything for Sefina, though. The sailor—Max?—had handed her Joni and she had to care for him.
Where was he now? she wondered as she trod water. Her first impressions had been of strength, determination, resolution. His face had been almost impassive.
He’d need strength and more if he was swimming back against the reef. The risks...
She couldn’t think of him now. Her attention had to be on keeping Joni safe.
Keeping them both safe?
She cupped her hand around Joni’s chin and started side-stroking, as hard and fast as she could, willing him to stay limp. The rip was still a problem. Getting back to the beach was impossible. The boat was too close to the breakers, but the atoll at the end of the reef might just be possible. If she could just reach the rocks...
Blessedly Joni stayed limp. It must be shock, she thought as she fought the current, but she was thankful for it. He lay still while she towed.
But the rip was strong. She was fighting for breath herself, kicking, using