“Engine trouble maybe?” Reuben hazarded.
Silvio answered with a snort. “More likely doesn't know how to
run the thing. Rented it thinking he was going to be some sort of expert.” He
plucked at a hair in his sparse beard.
Reuben was already moving toward his boat. The little
nineteen-foot Bowrider was not much to look at and certainly not enough to
enchant resort guests, but it was plenty able to get this nut back to land
before he drowned himself.
“Leave him be,” Silvio muttered.
Reuben eyed the sun, which was beginning to sink into a clouded
horizon. “Only another half hour before sunset.”
“Too bad. He can learn to respect the ocean the hard way.”
Gruff words from the guy who was following Reuben on board and
helping him cast off. As they motored out, Reuben fought the wheel to keep the
boat steady against waves determined to drive them off course.
The man seemed oblivious to their approach. He wore no life
jacket over his massive, bare shoulders, water lashing his face, which was still
too far away to see clearly. Stupid, but sturdy.
Reuben was amazed at how quickly the storm had worsened even in
the past half hour. The Jet Ski driver had no doubt been taken by surprise as
well, though he continued to meander rather than making for shore. “Hey,” Reuben
called over the sound of the engine.
The man didn't hear him.
Reuben edged the boat closer, ten feet away, until the guy
looked up, face slack with surprise. “We can take you back,” Reuben shouted.
“Climb aboard and we'll tow the ski.”
The man didn't react. Reuben assumed he hadn't heard and was
about to repeat the message when the craft abruptly turned around and sped off
toward the Florida coast, heaving on the angry waves.
Reuben shot a look at Silvio, who was shaking his head. “Told
you. Thickheaded. He's got to learn the hard way.”
Reuben's stomach tightened for some reason he could not fathom.
He did not think the man had been circling in the midst of a storm for pleasure.
There was something intense about the hostile stare, the tight mouthâsomething
cold and hard. Contrary to Reuben's assessment, the guy was obviously quite
competent on his Jet Ski.
Silvio patted his shoulder. “Come on, boy. Enough good deeds.
Back now. Got to batten down.”
Reuben snapped out of his reverie after one more look at the
departing jet skier, who was nearly out of sight. He was ready to push back
toward Isla when something caught his eye, a glimmer of color that did not match
the angry gray of the sea. He looked again and saw only the roiling surf.
“Let's go,” Silvio repeated.
“Hang on,” Reuben said, wiping the spray from his face. “I saw
something.” Seconds ticked into a full minute. Another glimmerâyellow. Something
yellow. His heart contracted. A swimmer?
“Hold her steady,” he shouted to Silvio as he climbed to the
edge of the boat and over the metal railing, which was heaving so violently he
could not hope to fish the woman, or whatever it was, out of the water.
“Ya crazy, boy?”
Reuben ignored him as he pinpointed the location of the yellow
flash and dove in. The violence of the water disoriented him, and he closed his
mouth to keep from swallowing. Now he could see nothing but a wall of ocean,
pitching and heaving around him. He did a slow circle, salt stinging his
eyes.
Silvio's right. You are crazy.
It
had probably been a plastic bag or a towel lost by a careless beachgoer,
certainly not a woman. He turned to swim back to the boat when he saw it again,
only this time he was not imagining it.
Out of the gray surge he saw a woman's raised hand, silhouetted
for a moment against the waning sun. Then the waves rose up between them and she
disappeared.
Copyright © 2013 by Dana Mentink
ISBN-13: 9781460323410
CHRISTMAS COVER-UP
Copyright © 2013 by Lynette Eason
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