Sheila looked down into the swirling abyss.

The water was so cold, but she couldn't stay on this rock forever. The tide would make the choice for her sooner or later.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd crossed herself. Probably back in middle school. She did so now.

Then she jumped.

The water sucked her under immediately. Seaweed slapped her bare arms and face, tangling around her legs. She kicked madly. The undertow spun her around and around until she couldn't tell which way she was swimming. Toward the shore? Back to the rock? Out to sea? She felt herself being dragged along, moving swiftly on the underwater current.

Was she anywhere near shore anymore?

Her knee struck something hard and jagged. A bright streak of red rose from the tear in her pants. She fought to reach the surface in a blind panic, no longer concerned about the cold. She was already close to losing her breath. If she didn't reach the surface soon she'd inhale water and then it would all be over.

In the deep below her she caught a glimpse of something shiny. Glimmering silver. She realized what it was but couldn't comprehend how it was possible.

She was looking at the camper on the sandy floor of the sound. The station wagon lay beside it, sodden laundry streaming out of its windows.

Suddenly something grabbed her by the hair. The pain in her scalp tore her away from the strange scene, like waking from a dream.

She reached up, grabbing back. Trying to tear herself free.

The last of her breath exploded from her lungs, bubbling up until it was lost in the churning water above her.

Her numbed fingers touched cold flesh, curled around what felt like a forearm. A second hand, this one wrapped in wet, gauzy material, grabbed her arm and pulled.

Martin, she thought. He's alive.

For the second time she felt as though her heart might stop.

She sucked in a huge breath the moment the chill wind touched her face.

Water caught in her windpipe and her whole body spasmed. The tendons in her neck pulled taut. Her face flushed, hot blood pumping beneath her frozen skin.

"Are you all right?" Martin shouted in her ear, to be heard over the crashing waves.

She coughed, dislodging the water from her throat. She spat it back at the sound. Her eyes stung from the salt water, from tears of terror—and now, from relief.

"I'm okay," she breathed. She laughed raggedly. "I'm okay!"

Martin held her in his lap until she stopped shivering. They sat on a rocky outcropping on the port side of the ferry. Somehow the current had beached him here. He couldn't remember anything after his head struck something in the water.

Saltwater stung the gash on his forehead. The vision in his right eye went pink again. He blinked away more blood.

The ferry loomed high above them, canted on a steep angle, both on its side and its stern. Rocking with the waves, gently now, its final resting place decided.