Page 12 of Part of Your World

"Thank the Lord." Tremors laced his grandpa's voice, signaling the seriousness of the situation.

Zane finally managed to tighten his stomach muscles enough to lift his head and shoulders from the ground. His grandpa immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders in support and helped him sit up.

As Zane found his balance and his bearings, details began to filter through the fog in his brain. He sat on a beach. Sand coated his trousers, forearms, and probably a dozen places outside his field of vision. The tide licked his boots as it moved in and out, making him aware of his soggy state. The wet sand beneath him. His soaked clothes. Dripping hair and skin. A breeze whooshed over him, worsening his shivers and invalidating the sun's warmth.

"Here."

Heavenly heat enveloped him as his grandpa's coat covered his back. But when Grandpa Clem tugged the flaps of the coat under Zane's chin, he jostled Zane's head. Pain erupted inside Zane's skull. He hissed and pulled away.

"Sorry." Grandpa Clem eased back, then frowned as he examined the side of Zane's head. "You've got a good-sized gash above your ear." He sat back on his haunches. "Stars and garters, Zane. I thought you were a goner when I saw that boom knock you overboard. What were you thinking, taking your eye off the sail? I taught you better than that."

"There was a woman standing on a knoll near the edge of the water . . . singing . . . I think. My memory's still a little fuzzy." Zane turned his head slowly and blinked to bring his grandpa's face into focus. "She had the most incredible voice. Like an opera singer, but more . . . down-to-earth. She sang a hymn." A smile tugged the edge of his mouth upward. "I joined in for a verse, not that she could hear me. But after the final note, our eyes met, and something powerful just . . . hit me."

"The boom's what hit you, you numbskull." Grandpa Clem shook his head at him, but his tone had lost its heat. "Since when have you ever let a woman distract you? To hear your mama talk, you're impervious to feminine charms. Even the musical ones."

Because music wasn't meant to be stiff and formal, a mere checkmark on the list of wifely qualities a man of standing should appreciate. Music was supposed to evoke emotion—joy and melancholy, peace and tension. What he'd heard on that knoll had been so raw it had riveted him.

"Hers was no drawing room recital. It was worship. Authentic, heart-wrenching worship. Private and powerful. She didn't sing to impress. She sang because her spirit overflowed. It was . . . mesmerizing." He turned to peer at the top of the nearby knoll, but if the woman had been there earlier, she was gone now. Zane sighed. “Either that, or I hallucinated the entire experience after getting knocked in the head.” He reached up and gingerly prodded the bloody knot a couple of inches above and behind his left ear.

“She weren’t no hallucination.” Grandpa Clem turned his attention toward the knoll as well, only his gaze seemed focused on the rocky outcropping near the water. “I saw her, too.”

Imaginary billiard balls ricocheted through Zane's chest. She was real! Which meant she could be found. An influx of energy zinged through his lethargic limbs.

“I’m pretty sure she’s the one who pulled you out of the water.”

“What?” Zane turned back to his grandpa. He hadn’t even considered how he’d ended up on the beach. All his concentration had been centered on remembering how to breathe and cataloguing his injuries. His gaze swung to the Gulf and landed on the small white boat bobbing several hundred yards from shore.

“How could it have been her? She'd not been attired in a bathing costume. She’d worn a normal-looking blue dress, and, I assume, all the necessary layers beneath it. Even an accomplished swimmer would have sunk with all that sodden weight. She couldn’t have rescued me. Could she?”

Even as he made the denial, a flash of memory returned. A feminine voice urging him to breathe. A gentle touch rubbing his back.

Grandpa Clem shrugged then moved around to Zane’s back and grabbed him beneath his arms. “I can’t say if the woman you saw on the ridge was the same one who rescued you or not, but there was definitely a woman next to you on the beach.” He tightened his hold. “Let’s get you up.”

With a grunt to match Zane’s groan, Grandpa Clem levered his grandson to his feet then slid to his side to provide support. He kept one arm wrapped firmly around Zane’s torso. A good thing, since Zane was pretty sure he would have crumpled back to the sand if left on his own.

“What did she look like?” Zane asked, craving as many details as possible about the woman.

Grandpa Clem chuckled softly as he set Zane in motion toward the carriage that waited at the edge of the beach. “My eyes ain’t what they used to be, but I’m sure she weren’t wearin’ no blue dress. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she was in her underthings. Probably why she scurried off the moment as she spotted me trottin’ down the beach. I was more focused on you, truth be told, but I can tell you one thing. She had bright red hair.”

“That’s her! It has to be. The woman on the knoll had red hair, too.”

“Maybe it was. Or maybe you’ve got a red-headed guardian angel watching over you. Either way, I’m right thankful she pulled you out of the drink. I ain’t ready to lose my favorite grandson.”

Zane smiled as they neared the buggy. “I’m your only grandson.”

Grandpa Clem winked as he positioned himself to help Zane onto the carriage seat. “That you are. So no more near-fatal accidents, you hear? I don’t have any grandsons to waste.”

“Deal.” Zane grabbed hold of the mounting handle near the bench, then twisted his face back toward the sea. “What about the boat?” He didn't want to lose it. He and Grandpa Clem had put too much work into it.

“I’ll send some lads to fetch it. Right now, I’m more concerned with getting you home and fetching the doctor.”

Zane couldn’t argue with that logic. A warm bed and a headache powder sounded rather wonderful at the moment.

Yet as the buggy rolled down the road, it wasn’t thoughts of home that filled him with longing. No, it was thoughts of the mysterious woman who had saved his life. He scoured the knoll for any sign of her as they drove past. The fact that he found none did nothing to dilute the desire building within him.

He wanted—no, needed—to thank her. And after that? Well, if she happened to be unattached, he just might make his mother’s dearest wish come true. If the lady proved amenable.

I don’t know how, he silently vowed, but I am going to find you.