Page 7 of Emi's Hero

George adjusted the towel, covering her as much as possible, afraid it wasn’t enough.

“How long have you been out there?” he asked softly.

He might as well have been talking to himself. She was out.

George looked around for the dry bag containing a T-shirt and shorts he’d brought along in case he ended up wet from fishing or smelly from cleaning his catch. He found it in thestorage well beneath the bench beside the passenger seat. He pulled the T-shirt out of the bag and knelt beside the woman on the bench.

He touched her shoulder. “Are you with me?”

When she didn’t say anything and her eyes remained closed, he held his breath and glanced at the towel over her chest.

For a long moment, it didn’t move.

George started to rise and start CPR again when the towel rose and fell so little it was almost imperceptible. She was still breathing.

He let go of the breath he’d held and slipped his hand beneath her shoulders, sitting her up.

Like a ragdoll, she sagged against him, her head lulling to the side until it came to rest on his shirt.

To help steady her, he slipped onto the bench behind her and held her up while pulling the T-shirt over her head. Then, one by one, he slipped her arms into the sleeves. Once he’d accomplished that, he tugged the shirt over her chest and torso.

Her head hung down, her chin touching her chest.

“You poor girl. How awful was it to be alone in the water long enough to be this out of it?”

She didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to.

George scooted out from behind her and eased her back down onto the bench.

He’d done what he could for the woman. She needed medical attention ASAP.

George revved the engine and headed back to the marina, steering the boat with one hand while reaching back with the other toward the woman on the bench in an attempt to make certain she didn’t fall off.

He needed another hand to operate the radio and call back to the marina to have the owner call for an ambulance. As he gotcloser to the shore, he’d slow down long enough to make that call. He was still too far out to make a difference.

When the island of Kauai came into sight, the mountains rising high out of the sea, he slowed the boat to a stop and checked on his patient.

She lay still on the bench, her face pale, tendrils of auburn hair curling around her cheeks, having dried in the wind.

George leaned over her and touched her shoulder. “Are you still with me?” he asked.

Her chest rose with a deep breath. Her eyelids twitched as if she might be trying to surface.

“Just relax. We’re almost back to shore. I’m going to call an ambulance to meet us at the marina.”

As he straightened, her hand reached out and grabbed his.

“No,” she said, her voice not much louder than a whisper.

He leaned closer. “Did you say something?”

She murmured something that sounded likedead.

“No, darlin’,” he said. “You’re not dead. You’re alive. But you came close to drowning. We need to get you to a hospital.”

Her head rolled to the side and back to the other side. “No,” she repeated a little louder. “Dead.”

That time, the word was clear.

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