Page 34 of Under His Protection
I jump back. “Oooh! It’s always colder than I remember.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm,” he says as he wades out waist deep in the water. “Come on in, babe. The water’s fine!”
“That’s what they all say before a shark bites off someone’s arm.”
He laughs. “Hale, this is a freshwater lake. There are no sharks.” Then he starts coming toward me with a determined look on his face.
For a moment, all I can do is admire his physique. He’s so tall, and every inch of him is hard and thick and muscular.
I quickly realize I’m in trouble now because I was so distracted by his body that I failed to realize he’s within striking range. Before I can get away, he lifts me up and lays me over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“Philip, no!” I squeal as he heads back into the water. “It’s too cold.”
But he ignores me, and soon the water is up to his waist.
“Philip?” I use the sweetest, most cajoling voice I can muster.
“Yes, dear?” He answers just as sweetly.
“Please put me down.”
“Okay.” And then he proceeds to slowly lower me off his shoulder.
“Not in the water! On the beach, you goofball.”
“Ohhh.” He returns me to my perch on his shoulders, which tower over the water. At least I’m out of harm’s way. “How about a shoulder ride?”
“I’m too heavy. You’ll hurt your back.”
He laughs as he shifts me so that I’m sitting on his shoulders. NowI’mtowering above everyone at the beach. I grasp his head and hold on tight until I catch my balance.
A cool breeze ruffles my hair and makes me shiver.
“You know, Hale,” he says with a chuckle, “if the water’s too cold, we can just go back to my apartment building and swim in the pool there. The water is heated. There’s a sauna, too.”
“Oh, that sounds heavenly. I vote we—”
Suddenly, we hear screaming. Shrill, terrified screaming.
Philip clamps his hands down hard on my shins, securing me in place, as he turns to seek out the source of the commotion.
We both spot it instantly. A middle-aged woman is standing waist deep in the water, pointing out into the lake. About thirty feet out, someone is struggling violently in the water, thrashing their arms frantically. We’re too far away to see the person clearly.
“Help him!” the woman screams as she clutches her hair. “Someone, please! Help my son!” She takes a step farther out, sinking deeper into the water, but then she takes several steps back onto the beach. “Please help him! I can’t swim!”
I watch, horrified, as the person’s head bobs once, twice, and then disappears from view. The water suddenly goes still.
“Shit!” Philip wades back to the shore as fast as he can and sets me on my feet. Then, he takes off running down the beach, heading toward the distraught woman, who’s crying hysterically as she points out into the lake.
Philip runs into the surf a ways before he dives into the water, and I watch, stunned, as he swims out to the spot where we last saw the kid struggling. My stomach knots when I see there’s still no sign of the boy.
Philip dives once more, straight down this time, and disappears from sight.
My heart seizes, and my chest tightens. My pulse takes off as fear chokes me. I stare fixedly at the spot where I saw Philip disappear beneath the water’s surface.
Oh, my God, this can’t be happening.
As I make my way down the beach toward the woman, I continue to watch the surface of the water, staring with burning eyes and counting the seconds he’s underwater.
