Page 61 of Return to Me Always

Tyler threw off the ropes before joining me. After we set our backpacks down, we took as much shelter as we could near the windshield, and Tyler turned the key, bringing the boat's engine to life. Just as he had mentioned, he seemed to know exactly what to do, first wrenching the boat into reverse, then jetting forward, free from the dock.

I waved at Ben as he faded into the distance, a lonely figure against the backdrop of the town. Out of the safety of the harbor, the sea churned in turmoil, lightning flashing in the distance. The sky unleashed its rage while the water rose up in its age-old answer.

How would we ever find the Isle of Skye in this furious sea?

"Can you see anything?" I shouted to Tyler, who was squinting straight ahead, trying to see through the rain-obliterated windshield.

"Not much," he answered. "But it's not far. And I know the way."

Thinking of my mom who couldn't swim at all, I looked around for life preservers. There were a few slung on a rope, and I lurched forward for them. After wrapping one around myself, I then half-held onto Tyler as I secured one around him too.

With both hands, I clutched the rail in front of me while bracing my legs in an attempt for balance. The boat surged forward, riding up the crest of a wave and careening down the back.

Again and again, we fought wave after wave. Trapped in an eternal battle of fighting swells, time seemed to stand still, making me wonder if we were actually moving anywhere or just treading water.

Our sturdy boat held up valiantly against the relentless sea, and Tyler never lost his focus as he steered us through the storm. A spray of water pelted our windshield, causing me to flinch. Would we actually end up where Tyler had planned? Or were we heading for disembowelment on a rocky beach?

My stomach churned in time with the storm. As I fought the nausea, a new terror dawned. Through the noise of the wind and waves came the unmistakable sound of another engine roaring nearby.

Tyler heard it too. "Hold on," he yelled.

A million thoughts whirled through my mind. Was it the police or the UK equivalent of the Coast Guard? Or even worse, could it possibly be Malcolm who had finally found us? Were we all heading to the same place?

I peered around in the pelting rain, trying to see the other boat, but couldn't find it, although it sounded hideously close.

"Where is it?" I shouted. "Can you see it?"

"No, but we're getting closer to Skye. I see flashes of a light in the distance."

The noise of the other boat rose up above the wind again, and out of the sheets of rain, the other vessel took shape. Coming closer. Dangerously close.

Oh, my God!What was going on?

I saw a snatch of Malcolm's face right before his boat jutted into ours.

"Shite! What the hell was that?" Tyler shouted as he struggled to keep control.

"It's Malcolm!"

Frantic, I searched for his boat again. How did he find us right here at our most vulnerable? Now, we had to fight the stormanda madman.

"Bloody fucking hell." Tyler remained focused on the waves in front of us. "Hold onto this boat with everything you have."

And I did. My God, how could we ever get out of this mess? Before I could think, the dreaded engine's roar was upon us again, this time coming from the other side. A loud crash. Our boat jerked to the side, fighting to right itself.

"Hold on!" Tyler shouted.

For a heart-pounding moment, the boat suspended itself sideways, like it was deciding which way to go, like a roller coaster hesitating before that final epic plunge. The unthinkable happened. Our boat lost the battle, catapulting us into the angry sea.

Freezing cold water splashed around me. Above me. Under me. Stealing my breath. I didn't know which way was up. I kicked and kicked until my muscles screamed, but it was useless.

The water was thick with seaweed and debris. I couldn't see anything. My lungs were bursting to take a breath. My mind yelled in disbelief while I fought and fought against the water, which was alive—alive with an intensity that seemed to want my body, my soul, as a sacrifice for this devilish storm.

My flailing hand hit something... hard. Was it the boat? I grabbed it and pushed, kicking with the last dredges of oxygen in my body. Then air, drenched with rain, butairthat I gulped—greedily, hungrily—and my mind cleared for a moment.

The ice-cold water felt like a million knives stabbing me. My life preserver kept me afloat, but I still kicked wildly, my hands and feet working independently of my mind. And still, I couldn't see anything.

Absurdly, a movie I had seen once popped into my head, of a man whose boat had capsized and sunk during a storm. He was also wearing a life vest. The camera pulled away to show him bobbing up and down over the cresting waves, all alone in the great vastness of the ocean, left to die a lonely death.

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