Annie’s boots had filled with water, but she didn’t notice. She waded back to the shore and pulled out her phone with shaking hands. Annie could hear Maeve’s and Gemma’s shouts as they tramped down the beach toward her, their shouts becoming exclamations of horror as they took in the scene.

“I couldn’t stop him!” Annie shouted to Maeve, as she waited to be connected to the emergency services. Annie had to put her hand over her other ear to be able to hear the phone operator over the noise of the storm.

“Coast guard and ambulance,” she shouted breathlessly into her phone. As she gave their location and situation details, she cast a look over at Gemma, who had collapsed to her knees, her hands clasped over her mouth. Maeve stood frozen, her face a grim reflection of Annie’s own feelings. Annie looked back out over the water. John was still swimming hard, the water swallowing him one minute and then spitting him back into view the next. The fear was almost paralyzing; she was breathing so hard she felt dizzy.

“He’s reached him!” yelled Maeve.

Gemma began to stand shakily. Annie felt hope leap through her; if they could just make it back to the rocks and hang on till the coast guard arrived, everything might be okay. She could hear snatches of Maeve’s conversation on the phone with Sally.

“Seen him, yes, in the sea, struggling. Wait by the pub and let the ambulance follow you down. No sign of them yet, weather’s bad, though.”

Out on the water, the two men were tossed back and forth by the waves like they were partners in some horrifying danse macabre. Annie could see that John had one arm wrapped around Alfred, but it seemed impossible that he would have enough power in his free arm to swim them both to the relative safety of the rocks. And if they got too close without securing themselves, they would just as likely be dashed by the rocks as saved by them. Annie couldn’t bear to watch, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away either.

“They’re going to make it!” cried Gemma.

The waves had taken a blessed break from crashing over their heads, and John took full advantage. He surged forward toward the rocks through the roiling water. Annie could feel herself breathing for him, her limbs twitching in sympathy. She couldn’t feel the rain or the cold anymore; she was outside herself, willing and pulsing every ounce of her energy toward John, pushing him forward, hoping beyond hope that she would get the chance to tell him how she felt about him.

“Sweet Jesus, have mercy on them!” came Maeve’s strangled cry.