Page 12 of Summer Ever After
“She’s choking!”
The commotion behind me makes everyone turn.
There’s a woman in a short black dress. Her back is to me, but I can tell she’s doing the international “choking” sign. I recognize the guy who yelled. It’s Beau Palmer. I mean, I think it’s Beau Palmer. It’s been ten or eleven years since I’ve seen him, and the whole police uniform is throwing me off.
“I have a Life Vac in my first aid kit in my golf cart.” Beau rushes away from the table, causing the woman who’s choking to reach her hand out to him, but he’s clearly on some kind of mission and can’t be detoured.
“A what?” Marlyss Gapmeyer asks, coming from behind the bar counter. I haven’t seen her in years, but how could I forget the woman who owns this place?
Beau keeps moving toward the exit. “It’s one of those suction devices. Start the Heimlich!” he yells as he pushes the door open and exits.
The entire restaurant glances around at each other. No one wants to commit to the rescue. Meanwhile, the woman stands there, grabbing at her neck.
Are you kidding me? No one is willing to help?
Yeah, let’s make the guy who just had a lumbar microdiscectomy do it. That’s real great.
I rush toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist. With a fist in the middle of her stomach, I thrust my hands inward and upward, trying to dislodge whatever she’s choking on.
Two thrusts and nothing.
Where the heck is Beau?
Jane
Where the heck is Beau?
The entire reason why I did this stupid fake-choking thing was sohecould wrap his arms around me. Not some stranger. But no, Beau fled the scene.
So much for being a first responder.
In hindsight, this fake-choking thing was a bad idea, especially when the stranger hits my stomach with such force it knocks the wind out of me—I literally can’t breathe. My eyes widen, and the squishy piece of chicken I’d tucked under my tongue to magically puff out at the perfect moment rolls out of my mouth in an anticlimactic fashion.
“She’s still choking!” Marlyss points at me frantically. “Her face is red!”
“Shouldn’t it be blue?” someone else asks.
“Maybe it goes red, then blue.” Their side conversation continues as the stranger nails me in the stomach again.
Beau rushes back inside with some kind of vacuum apparatus that’s supposed to go over my mouth.
This is not how I saw any of this going.
It’s the least romantic moment of my life.
“Here, lay her down.” Beau’s voice is surprisingly calm as he movessome chairs back.
But I’m not about to be suctioned by something that looks like a breast pump.
“No.” I grab the stranger’s forearms, forcing speech despite the absence of air in my lungs. “I’m okay.” The words don’t have a lot of punch, but at least I got them out.
Beau stares into my eyes. “Are you sure you can breathe?”
I give the A-OK sign as I catch my breath.
The stranger’s grip around my waist loosens, but he doesn’t let go completely, like he doesn’t trust that I’m okay. His hands settle on my waist as I straighten. Is it crazy that, amidst it all, I noticed how good he smells?
Yeah, it’s crazy.
