Summer Breeze by Nancy Thayer Page A

the lake. She drifted.
    She didn’t know what made her finally wake from her spell. Flipping over onto her stomach, she treaded water and gazed around, looking for her aunt’s beach.
    She didn’t see it.
    She dog-paddled a slow circle in the water.
    She saw her aunt’s house—and it was a million miles away.
    A thrill of fear ran down her spine, chilling her, and her feet, now hanging down into the depths, went cold. How had she driftedso far? What had she been thinking? Well, of course, she hadn’t been thinking! Okay , she told herself. Okay . First of all, she didn’t have to swim to her aunt’s house. She could swim to the closest shore and walk home.
    The closest shore was a million miles away.
    Another surge of fear shot through her. Calm down , she told herself. The shore is not a million miles away. It’s not even a million feet away. It only looked like it. And, true, she had never been a strong or efficient swimmer, but she wasn’t in a hurry. She didn’t have to get back soon . She just had to get back. She could do that. She would take her time, head for her aunt’s beach, and calmly swim back to shore.
    She set out. Left arm, right arm. Kicking her legs. Left arm, right arm. She tried to turn her head and breathe like professional swimmers but she kept getting water up her nose, and then she had to quit swimming and tread water while she blew her nose and caught her breath. Left arm, right arm. She splashed water in her face with each stroke. The water no longer supported her. It sucked at her, pulling her down. She forced herself not to look at the shore because keeping her head up slowed her down, so she turned her head to the side as she swam. But when she did look up, she saw that she’d gotten off course and was almost swimming in a circle.
    Well, damn!
    She straightened her course and began swimming again. She was tiring. She’d never been much of an athlete, and she could feel her body running out of gas. Still, she continued to plow through the water, sloppily sweeping arm after arm. Her breath tore her lungs. She was wheezing, puffing. She stopped to check: it seemed she was making some headway. The house was closer. She could see the pot of pink geraniums on her deck. She swam.
    Left arm, right arm, and then, she didn’t know how it happened, she stupidly took a breath and filled her mouth and throat with water. Choking, she paddled frantically in the water, gasping for air. Her body, of its own accord, suddenly just sank. Once again she swallowed a huge gulp of lake. All around her, the water bubbled and frothed as she thrashed.
    Fighting now, arms and legs out of sync, she kicked and flailed back to the surface, spitting and gasping and gagging. Gravity dragged relentlessly on her entire body, which had hardened as heavy as stone.
    “Help!” she cried, a feeble attempt that made her sink again, water surging into her mouth. Her throat burned. Her lungs were on fire. Her heart was hammering against her chest. All strength evaporated from her limbs as she slapped at the water, struggling to get her nose and mouth up into the air.
    Something touched her arm. She screamed, or tried to. Panic flooded her veins, shooting fear on a dazzling course through her body before she understood that it was a hand on her arm, a strong hand hauling her upward. With a monumental effort of will, she forced her body to stop thrashing and blindly turned toward the hand, her eyes flooded with water. Another hand groped at her chin, her shoulder, and finally grasped her under her arm. Her head banged against wood.
    She was held like that, her head above water, gasping for air. Someone said something, perhaps “Hang on,” and the hand on her wrist moved to her other underarm.
    “Just catch your breath,” a man said. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”
    She steadied herself in the water, allowing her legs to sink down, her body to straighten into an I, as her shoulders and head remained in the