Heart pounding, she sped to the wall and yanked the ring buoy off its hook and shucked off her shoes. She ran to the river’s edge, and, gripping the rope loop, tossed the ring into the water near Luca. But the ring landed too far from him.
She took a running start and jumped. Freezing darkness swallowed her. She pulled the buoy rope and surfaced next to the ring, searching for Luca. His white parka glowed beyond her reach; her arms swept toward it. She kicked, flailed, fingers grasping for any part of him. Lungs aching, she kicked, reaching, grasping, scraping against the slippery jacket. Her arms swept the water, her fingers hooked the hood, but it slid from her grasp.
She prayed,David help me. Help me save your son.
She lunged and grasped Luca’s hood and pulled him to her. Kicking furiously, she pulled the life ring to them, scissoring her legs, again, and again. She gasped for breath. Screamed, “Luca!”
She pulled the life ring under him. “Hold on!”
Luca’s legs scrambled; his boots struck her chest, pushing her under. She launched him above her head and kicked with every muscle in her body. Luca was yanked from her hands. Someone must have pulled him out. He was safe.
The life ring’s rope slid from her grasping fingers. She gulped air. A dog barked. An icy wave rolled over her. Her legs were so heavy, she couldn’t kick. Her arms, spent, useless, trailed above. The unreachable gray sky taunted her. Darkness entrapped her like a pall, dragging her down.
Flurrying bubbles so pretty, sparkling like Christmas lights. The roaring water silenced.
Chapter 22
Clairesweptherarmsbefore her, moving like a butterfly’s wings, scooping water behind her and propelling her forward into a velvet softness. All was calm. All was bright.
She blinked against the brightness. A white room whirled around her as she struggled to focus on something, anything that could bring her onto land, for she was certain she was far away from the real world. But she was alone. If she had died, David would be with her. If she wasn’t dead, where was she? Was she dreaming?
Bleeps and blips erupted, louder and more monotonous than the American carols. She wished to hear Bing’sWhite Christmas.
As she tried drawing a deep breath, she coughed and spasmed. What happened? Why did she feel as if she was wrapped like a mummy and her lungs were filled with muck? She struggled to sit up.
A hand gentled hers. She squinted, looking for David, but as she focused, she recognized Gilbert’s face. She longed to fall into his arms.
He wrapped his strong arms around her. “How do you feel?” Worry creased his forehead and tugged at his, bluer than gray, eyes.
Blissful, now that you’re here, she longed to say, but that wasn’t appropriate…was it? “Safe,” she whispered.
Not loosening his grip on her, Gilbert dropped his head onto her shoulder. “Merci,” he whispered and sobbed. His muscular shoulders shook, and she wondered what could have possibly happened to make such a strong man weep. “I’m sorry I left you. I shouldn’t have. I was terrified I’d lost you both.”
The memory of Luca running along a river toward a dog flashed in her mind.
“Luca!” She lurched. “Where is Luca? Is he safe?” Her body trembled.
Gilbert’s head popped up. “He is fine. He’s playing with some children in the waiting room.” He wiped his face. “Do you know where you are?”
“I’m pretty sure this is a hospital. But why am I here? Why am I shaking?”
“What do you remember?” He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.
Picturing Luca and the dog, she searched, but only the memory of the Winstub bubbled up. “Flammkuchen. Delicious.”
Gilbert laughed.
“I’m starving.”
“You don’t remember anything after the Winstub?” His normally bright eyes dulled.
Claire wondered if he was sad or in pain. She searched for images, but nothing came to her. “What’s wrong?”
“Madame Claire. You’re awake!” Luca ran to the side of the bed. The beeping sped up. “Magnifique!”
The beeps tripled. The ache in Claire’s heart melted, and she thrummed with joy at his voice. “Luca! Are you all right?”
“I am super fine, Madame Claire!” He kissed her cheek.
