I’m coming. Please wait for me.
My body collided with a rock. Pain tore through my torso, but I hung on for dear life. My fingers dug into the sides of the rock, and I scooted up and out of the flow. Out of the depths and into the light.
I gasped.
Water shot out of my mouth. A gurgling sounded deep in my gut before more water was expelled.
I hurt everywhere.
I wanted to yell for help, but I couldn’t.
I moaned under the severe pain. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. Who was going to help me? How were they going to find me?
For the first time in years, I didn’t want to die. My fingertips gripped the rock—my lifeline—as the angry current ripped around my legs.
The corners of my vision faded.
Pat, I love you. I’m so sorry.
FIFTY-FOUR
Patrick
We were still forty minutes away from a place called June Creek. According to Blake and Gina, it was a fun but challenging micro-creek. They’d kayaked it years before and had often talked to Jules about the potential to catch it after a good rain one day.
They just never thought she’d try to do it alone in the cold after five inches of rain.
Hopefully, we were wrong and she was peacefully floating on a lake somewhere. Even as I had the thought, I seriously doubted it. A nice peaceful time on the lake was more my thing than hers.
I gripped the Tacoma’s steering wheel. My exhaustion had melted away miles ago. Determination pricked me wide awake. We had to find her.
Gina and Blake ranted the entire way about Jules. Telling stories of the risky things she had done and speculating about why she did the things she did. I knew why, but kept my mouth shut. Clenched my jaw and tried to block out the chatter. They drilled me with a million questions about our breakup. I wasn’t sure how much Jules would want me sharing, so to Gina’s frustration, I said little. Focused on the drive.
We also tried her phone about twenty times. Got voicemail.
Thirty more minutes.
We made a plan. If her car was in the lot, Gina and Blake were going to check the waterfalls on the run. I was going to check the area past the bridge.
Sounded solid to me.
My chest tightened as I imagined Jules kayaking down waterfalls alone. What if the storm had washed branches or something into the creek? I took a few deep breaths. We would find her. Iwouldfind her.
We pulled into the gravel lot and bingo. Her Altima was the only car in the lot.
We hopped out. They handed me a backpack with a first aid kit and a rope in it. Extreme sports were familiar to this couple. They lived and breathed an adrenaline high. A fact that made their intense response to Jules’ decision all the more disconcerting. They were worried.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat as I set off at a brisk jog downstream. The creek was raging. The word “creek” was unfit. It was an angry torrent of water, ripping through the side of the rock. Anything caught in its path would be…I shook the mental image out of my head.
Where are you, Jules?
* * *
I had to ease myself down the embankment. It was muddy, slippery, and steep as all get out. As I looked into the rushing water below, I hoped I wouldn’t find her.
My heart rate picked up speed as I scanned the section of river beyond the bridge. There was a tunnel feeding water out onto the other side. I stood at the water’s edge and raked my gaze over every possible crevice.
My pulse skipped, and my knees went weak when my eyes landed on a paddle caught between two rocks.
