Handful of Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

currents of the shoals. But she was pitched far beneath the surface, fighting nature’s power, her lungs on fire. Think! she warned herself desperately, aware that her life hung in the balance. Calm, rational thought. Don’t flail, don’t fight, go with the current, get to the top.
    The urge to open her mouth and gasp for breath was unbearable. Even knowing that all she could gasp in would be seawater, she didn’t think she could battle the urge much longer. Splotches of black seemed to be exploding inside her skull. She was blinded and freezing, almost too numb to make an attempt to live.
    And she began to wonder a little hysterically if this was it.
    She who had learned to ease others from life was about to leave it herself. No waiting period, no adjustment, no time for regrets or restitutions. It would come on her suddenly, coldness and blackness embracing her….
    Still, she didn’t flail. Nor did her life flash through her mind as she had always heard. Her foot touched the bottom, scraped against one of the rocks. She felt the motion but not the pain. She kicked against the rock, and then the surface broke above her.
    The rain was coming in such torrents that it was difficult to tell the difference between sea and air, but she managed to gasp and fill her lungs with more oxygen than water. Treading water with care, she blinked furiously, seeking out the shore. It was incredibly far away, and yet she had been standing there moments ago.
    But the sea was strong. Anyone who knew it well knew that. To survive she was going to have to stay calm, to waste no motion, to save her strength.
    Another wave crashed over her even as she cautioned herself. It swept her under, tossing her toward the shore, then pulling her back out. She let it. She touched bottom again, sprang against it, and surfaced, gasping for a deep, deep breath. Then she plunged below the surface and began to swim.
    She could stand again but she didn’t. She stayed low where she could balance herself against the rush of water. Her heart began to soar with hope. She was almost back to the shore. Blinking the stinging salt from her eyes, she could see the giant gray boulders rising out of the sand.
    Susan found her footing. The muscles in her legs were burning, as if a thousand bees had stung her, she realized. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. The sand—gray and barely discernible against the gusting rain—was before her. She pushed back a sodden lock of hair that clung over her forehead and took another step.
    A wave was coming; she ducked to brace against it. But it was more powerful than any of the others that had come before it. Go with it, go with it, she warned herself desperately. Don’t panic, don’t panic….
    She went with it—and gasped out an involuntary scream of pain as the wave hurtled her like a twig against solid stone. Pain exploded in her temple. She was dimly aware that she had been tossed against one of the low-lying boulders and realized that water had poured into her open mouth, that it was filling her lungs, that she was choking … drowning.
    And still nothing passed before her. None of her life. All she saw was a wall of blackness engulfing her. She couldn’t fight anymore. She couldn’t even lift a hand against the power that pulled and dragged her … a power like arms, strong arms, lifting her, carrying her, holding her. Bringing her to the sand. Giving her warmth against the terrible cold.
    The rain continued to beat down. Oddly she could feel it slamming against her. She wasn’t dead yet, but she was still being poked and prodded. Her stomach was being kneaded, and she was suddenly gasping again, spouting water and choking. And then she knew that she was really and truly alive because she was certain that one had to be living to feel so horrible and wretchedly sick!
    Hands were on her, twisting her. She retched out all the seawater she had swallowed, vaguely realizing that it was taken back by the rain.