Page 4 of Shaw

Had she gotten so good at lying to herself that it sounded like the truth?

She thought back over the last few months, and the affect Mitch’s hateful behavior had had on her. She’d lost twenty-five pounds after giving up her healthy, organic diet to live on cheap microwave burritos and mini pizzas. As her money ran low she’d only bought food when she’d gotten dizzy with hunger. Julianne had been so busy trying not to think about what Mitch was doing to her that she’d ignored her own starvation.

How did it get this bad?

After the unhappy honeymoon Mitch gradually stopped pretending to be the tender, caring lover she thought she knew, and instead showed more of his true character. He went out to party with his friends more often than he spent time with her, sometimes disappearing for days. He squandered his pay so quickly Julianne had to use all of hers for their bills and expenses. He kept trying to talk her into having a baby, which he already knew she had never wanted. His demands in the bedroom went from raunchy to repulsive. Finally she moved into the guest room, which had ended their sex life.

Toward the end all her ex seemed to care about was getting as much money as he could. When she refused to sell the farm he accused her of being a gold-digger and only marrying him for money. He called realtors to show her property behind her back. One night she’d caught him practicing her signature on a sheet of paper, which he’d said he was only doing for fun.

After months of alternating between silent indifference and loud, angry fighting Julianne had figured it would never end, and told Mitch she wanted a divorce. He’d surprised her by agreeing, and promised he wouldn’t make any trouble.

She should have known then that he had already made plans.

When she came home the next day from work, Julianne discovered her husband had changed all the locks. Mitch had showed up a few minutes later with the police to serve her with a restraining order that had a residence exclusion, which the cops told her meant she could no longer live in their home. He’d then cut off her cell phone service, and that night her car had disappeared. A detective came to inform her that Mitch had reported her for stealing the car. Since the lease had been in his name she could have been charged with auto theft.

“Get yourself a good lawyer, lady,” the detective, who was familiar with such tactics by ex-spouses, told her. “This is only the beginning of the party.”

By the next day she discovered Mitch cancelled her debit and charge cards, and emptied and closed all their bank accounts. He called their friends to tell them that he’d kicked her out after catching her having sex with two of his friends. He’d also called the Sonoma County Parks and Recreation Division to report that she was using meth and had given him syphilis, and she should be fired before she hurt or killed someone. That wasn’t true, and David had been apologetic about the mandatory tests Julianne had to take because of the reports, but until the Health Department and the police cleared her she’d been unable to work. By the end of the week she had been rendered homeless and friendless.

Because of the restraining order she could only speak to Mitch in the presence of their attorneys. Just as he had today, he always played the victim.

Because he’d taken all of her money and savings, Julianne had been forced to live on the sixty-one dollars and eighteen cents she’d been carrying in her wallet, which in the high-priced world of northern California didn’t stretch very far. She’d checked out of the motel after one night, and borrowed the van from Melanie, which became her home on wheels. It would be a year or more before she could save up enough to pay the deposits required for an efficiency apartment. She could have pawned the gold locket she always wore, but it contained the only photos she had left of her parents. Her aunt had made a fortune with her herbal cosmetics business, but asking Klee for a loan was the same as admitting that Mitch had won.

“He hasn’t.” Saying that again made her straighten and square her shoulders. “I can still ride the waves. I’ll get a second job, and find a room and a used car. I’ll eat better, too. I just have to keep moving forward, like always.”

A faint commotion drew her attention back to the water, where she saw someone struggling where the shallows dropped off. Shedding her jacket and sweat pants, she grabbed her rescue float and climbed down to the sand, keeping her gaze locked on the victim as she sprinted for the water.

Hold on, my idiot friend. I’m coming for you. Julianne took a few seconds to orient herself and strap on her swim goggles before she dove into the cold water and began swimming in that direction.

The Pacific buffeted her with its relentless currents, and promised to leech all the warmth out of her if she didn’t keep moving. Since her training days Julianne could outswim every other lifeguard pitted against her and even on the coldest days never suffered hypothermia. That was a combination of her steam engine metabolism and sheer dumb luck. Anyone who stayed in water forty degrees colder than their body temperature risked unconsciousness, which in the water meant automatic death by drowning.

Move, move, move.

Because a person could drown in less than sixty seconds she needed more time than she had to reach the victim. Every fourth stroke she lifted her head to check her position, until she finally got within a few yards of the swimmer. Seeing that he was a big, strong man didn’t matter; everyone was the same when they were in trouble in the water.

She decided to take a rear approach, and dove down before surfacing behind the man and pressing the rescue float against his lower back. She then curled her arms around his, dragged him back against her.

“You’re safe now, sir,” she told him as he coughed out some water. “Just relax and let me get you back to–”

A huge wave struck them, knocking the man out of her arms and dragging Julianne into a ferocious rip current. Her rescue float ripped out of her grasp and vanished into a swirl of churning sea water. The man grabbed her ankle as she was pulled out into deeper waters, and she reached down to take hold of his hand, bringing him to the surface with her.

“Don’t fight it,” she told him as they were pushed away from the shore. “We’ll swim along with it, and then work our way back, okay?” She put her hand on his cheek. “I know this is scary, but stay with me. I’ve got you.”

He raised his head and looked at her with gray eyes so dark they appeared black, which matched the heavy sleeve of gorgeous, intricate tattoos on one of his arms. His uber handsome, Gucci-perfect features made her wonder if he were a model or celebrity. Not with that pain in those sad eyes, Julianne decided, her heart clenching. He’d been through hell, and not just today.

“My lady merrow,” he said, in a voice with such a thick accent she almost didn’t understand him.

Another wave doused them, but Julianne locked her fingers through his to maintain her hold. The next time she surfaced he remained limp in the water, and she had to roll him onto his side and wrap her arms around his chest to give him a sharp jerk, which make him choke out the water he’d breathed in. She then turned him to face her as the current whirled around their legs, and tucked an arm around his neck. For some reason her breasts flashed with a tingling heat so much like sexual excitement she almost choked on her own breath.

“Don’t let go of me,” Julianne told him, and pulled him against her just as they were sucked beneath the surface.

The rip current grew even stronger as it drove the two of them toward the irregular cluster of sea stacks beyond the underwater trench channel. The churning action of the waves, fueled by the power of the incoming tide, made it impossible to swim parallel to the current. As soon as they surfaced again Julianne knew they were running out of time. Then they were slammed into a submerged rock, sending a huge jolt of pain through her right thigh and hip, and that leg stopped working. If she couldn’t swim, then they weren’t going to make it back to shore.

“I’m sorry,” she told the man after she looked for any other way to get him out of the current. “I can’t save you. We’re trapped.”

“Then we go together, my beauty.” He yanked a chain from his neck and pushed the silver ring hanging from it onto her finger. “I’m Shaw MacMar. Wed me.”

That he would give her his ring in their final moments made her melt a little inside. The beautiful stone, a jade or pale emerald, seemed to glow even brighter than the sun on the waves. This was definitely the way she wanted to die, like the happiest girl on the planet. Why couldn’t she have met this darling guy instead of Mitch?