Wandering Heart (9781101561362) (8 page)

Charlotte took a deep breath. Now the entire crew was listening in as they milled about, acting preoccupied. She felt the pressure was all on her. If she started a big debate with him about Alexa or even showed her frustration, she would be labeled temperamental, unprofessional. She would be to blame for holding things up and the scene stalling out today. Never mind that it looked like a hurricane was moving in. She had to negotiate this impasse, or the whole crew would be annoyed with her.

“Maybe Charlotte needs a break,” Nick said suddenly. “To think things through.”

“Yes, I think a walk would do me good. I need a few minutes alone to get focused and centered again,” Charlotte said quickly. “So I can process your comments, Brad.”

“Sure, good idea.” Brad nodded, looking grateful for her cooperative attitude.

Charlotte spared him a small smile and then caught Nick’s eye. “Thanks, pal,” she wanted to say.

She would thank him later, she thought as she marched down the shoreline, trying to put as much distance as she could between the set and herself. Nick was smart. She did need to cool off before she said or did something rash. Bradley could be difficult, but she’d dealt with hard-to-please directors before. She would win him over eventually, she thought. Or just bulldoze her way through. What choice did she have? She had to finish this film one way or the other.

She felt everyone watching her, their unified gaze boring into her back. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if anyone was following a few paces behind. Like a Secret Service agent guarding the president. Thankfully, she was alone.

She quickly faced forward, the pounding surf quickly blocking the voices from the set. When she looked back again a few minutes later, she had turned a curve in the beach and couldn’t even see them.

The beach was beautiful, even in the foggy weather. The sand near the water’s edge was pounded smooth and flat, silky beneath her bare feet. The waves broke close to the shore, crashing with a thunderous roar, the cool greenish-blue water and foam rushing all around her, then just as swiftly, washing back.

Small white and gray birds on thin, stalky legs hopped about the damp sand, pecking at bits of seaweed and tasty bits of shellfish. Charlotte watched them, feeling herself calm down as she focused on their graceful movements and the sound and rhythm of the rushing surf.

She kept walking and walking. The shoreline gently curved
around a high cliff and a short distance ahead, a jetty of rough black and gray rocks stretched out into the waves. The rocks were flat on top, piled close together, their sides worn smooth by the pounding water.

She stepped up on one rock and then another, looking for a flat spot to sit. It was a great comfort and luxury to be this close to the waves. She felt the mere sight and scent of the ocean renewing her flagging spirit.

I’m going to get this dress wet again,
Charlotte realized,
and I’ll probably get a green slime stain on the back if I sit down. Oh, bother. I’ll just stand here awhile,
she decided.

I just have to do the scene the way Bradley wants me to,
she told herself.
Alexa ranting and wailing, even though I don’t believe she’d do any of that. No point arguing with him. He’s totally inflexible and I’ll just come off as the spoiled diva. If I can just get this scene down to suit him, maybe he’ll relax and lay off a bit.

Charlotte stepped from rock to rock, considering the director’s instructions and what she would do next in front of the camera. Lost in her thoughts, she looked up to find she had nearly reached the end of the jetty. It suddenly occurred to her that it wasn’t safe out here. The waves struck with a booming sound, and the spray rose in plumes around her.

She stepped back carefully, feeling slippery green moss under her bare feet.
I went out too far. That was dumb. I’ll have to be careful going back. Step by step, I can make it,
she coached herself.

She had made it halfway back, feeling almost home free, when a huge wave rose up beside her, curling over her head and crashing down on the rock where she stood. Charlotte would have screamed, but instead she stood mesmerized, watching the rushing water.

Seconds later, it knocked her off her feet and washed her into the sea. She had no chance to even take a breath. Her body was pulled under the water and churned like a pile of laundry in a washing machine.

The rocky jetty stood empty, foam ebbing back into the sea.

S
UBMERGED
in the icy cold water, Charlotte didn’t know which way was up. Holding her breath was instinctive. So was trying to swim back to the surface.

She fanned her arms and legs and felt a rock’s jagged edge with her foot and quickly pushed off in another direction. She wasn’t sure how she had escaped being dashed against the rocks, or how her bones had not been snapped like twigs by the force of the water.

She was a strong swimmer, but this was something altogether different. She couldn’t hold her breath another second and felt a white-hot pounding in her head and deep in her chest. She felt desperate to open her mouth and gasp for air, as if she were being smothered. But she knew it would be fatal.

Was she going to drown? Was that what was happening to her? Was this really the way her life was going to end?

Oh, God … please help me. I don’t want to die. Please …

Charlotte had not been to church in years, though she had gone
as a child with her grandmother and still prayed from time to time. She wasn’t sure where the prayer had come from, erupting from her desperate soul.

She wasn’t sure if she’d actually heard an answer either. Or if it was just the kind of hallucination a person might have when they’re dying.

Be strong, Charlotte. You are loved.

Had she really heard a voice, or was she getting hysterical? Hallucinating due to a lack of oxygen?

Was that the voice you heard at the very end?
she wondered.

A current swept her up, tossing her around like a soggy rag doll. She tried but she couldn’t fight it. She finally gave in, surrendering to its force. With all her strength she held her breath one more second. She knew when she let it go, it would all be over.

Another surge of water lifted her up, flinging her body like a leaf. Miraculously, her head broke through the surface. She tilted her head back, gasping for air and trying to tread water.

When she was finally able to get her bearings, she saw that she had been pulled far from the jetty. She was relieved that she wouldn’t be dashed on the rocks, but she was so far from the shore now and could feel a strong current carrying her even farther out to sea.

The current was moving swiftly, parallel to the shoreline. She saw the crew on the beach, tiny specks in the distance. She tried to wave to them, but she was so far out and so tired, the simple gesture was impossible. And hopeless, she realized.

Stop panicking,
she told herself.
You can survive this. What are you supposed to do if you’re caught in a current?
She tried to remember her swim classes from childhood. All she could remember was that she needed to float, to save her strength.
Sooner or later, the current will weaken and you can swim to shore
.

If I don’t get exhausted and drown first,
she thought.
If a storm doesn’t start up and a huge wave doesn’t push me under again
.

Get a grip, Charlotte. Did you come this far in your life to just give up at a moment like this? What will happen to your family if you die now? Who will take care of them? What will happen to Lily? Think how much she’ll miss you.

Thoughts of home and her family gave her a second wind. She would get through this. She’d get back to shore somehow or someone would see her. By now, she would be missed on the set. They would come looking for her and realize what had happened.

Charlotte tried to comfort and encourage herself. “Be strong, Charlotte. You are loved,” she told herself, repeating the words she had heard in her head.

T
HE
crew was due to return to the inn for lunch at one, but in the meantime, Judy had called, asking for hot coffee and tea down on the beach. Liza and Claire prepared two large percolators and a tray of donuts and more scones, and loaded it all in the back of Claire’s truck, so they could serve it tailgate fashion. Then they drove the short distance across the road and parked at the top of the stairway that led to the beach.

Liza tried Judy Kramer’s phone but didn’t get an answer. “I’ll go down and let them know we’re here,” she told Claire.

She started down the zigzagging flight of steps. The crew was nearby. She could see they weren’t filming. The rolling camera apparatus was empty and the stars were not around. Everyone looked in a bit of panic. But that seemed to be their usual mode, Liza thought.

She saw Judy with her boss, Mike, and walked over. “I sent Zach
down there to look for her,” Judy was saying. “He walked at least a mile, to a jetty. He couldn’t find her anywhere.”

“She couldn’t have just disappeared,” Mike insisted.

“Maybe she’s hiding somewhere. Maybe she’s upset because I asked her to rethink the scene,” Liza heard Brad say.

Nick stood by him, a towel slung around his neck. “Charlotte’s not like that, Brad. I’m really worried. What if she walked out on that jetty and fell in the water?”

Liza felt her breath catch in her throat. They were talking about Charlotte. She was lost. Liza hung back, feeling this wasn’t the time to interrupt about coffee and tea.

One of the cameramen was standing on a platform and scanning the horizon with a high-powered lens. “I see her,” he called out excitedly. “She’s out there, in the water. She must have been carried out by a wave.”

Mike gasped. “Dear God. Get out there, what are you waiting for?” he screamed at the two lifeguards, but they had already grabbed their skiffs and raced into the pounding surf. They launched the skiffs and slipped onboard just past the breakers, then turned on a small outboard motor and plowed toward Charlotte. But the sea was rough and it was slow going for the small rescue boats.

Liza ran over to Judy. “Have you dialed 911? There’s a harbor patrol that will come with a boat to rescue her.”
If they can get to her in time.

“Good idea. I’ll do that.” Judy frantically hit the keys on her phone. Nick shed his shoes and shirt, preparing to swim out to Charlotte. Brad grabbed his arm. “Don’t be crazy, man. This isn’t an action film. Who’s going to rescue you?”

“We can’t let her drown,” Nick shot back.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get her,” Mike insisted, his eyes fixed on the lifeguards. “We have to.”

Standing nearby, Judy finished her call to the emergency number and was practically crying. “Poor Charlotte. Oh, God. I hope she can hang on long enough for someone to get to her.”

Liza touched her arm, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t see Charlotte out there at all.

“Look, a boat!” called out the cameraman who was holding the telescopic lens. “It looks like it’s moving in her direction.”

Everyone, including Liza, turned to look out at the sea again. She did see a boat out there suddenly. A fishing boat that was familiar to her, owned by a friend of Daniel’s—Colin Doyle.

Did he see Charlotte? That was the question. Though it looked like he must be close to her from this point of view, out on a choppy sea Charlotte could easily be missed by a cruising boat.

Dear God,
Liza prayed,
please let Colin or someone on that boat save Charlotte. Please let Charlotte survive out there.

C
HARLOTTE
was so tired. She wanted desperately to float for just a few minutes of rest, but the sea was too rough. Every time she tilted her head back and tried to let her limbs go limp, her head went under and she got another lungful of salt water. She felt so weary from treading, she didn’t think she could keep her head above the surface another minute.

She saw a small lifeguard’s skiff far off in the distance, trying to make its way toward her. The sight gave her hope and a surge of energy. But all too soon she sensed that the current was carrying her along faster than the little boat could travel. She didn’t see how it could ever catch up to her in time.

Suddenly she heard the loud sound of a big engine and turned to see a large boat, passing nearby. It took every once of energy she had
left, but she managed to lift one arm from the water to wave and call out: “Help! Down here! Help me, please!”

The boat engine was so loud, she wondered if anyone heard her. She couldn’t see anyone out on the deck. The boat kept going without changing course and Charlotte’s heart sank.

That was it. Her only chance to be saved. Who else would come in time?

She started to cry, though it seemed insanely redundant to cry while you were in the middle of the ocean about to die. Thinking about this, she actually started to laugh at herself.
I must be hysterical,
she realized.

The sound of the boat’s engine cut into her rambling thoughts, and she realized that the big boat had been turning in a wide arc, coming around to help her.

With an unexpected burst of energy, she paddled madly, trying to meet it. The boat stopped a few yards away, the engine quietly rumbling. A man appeared on the bow. He tossed a rope ladder over the side of the boat and then a line with a cork life preserver.

“Grab on to this and I’ll pull you over to the ladder.”

Charlotte managed to grab the lifeline. She tried to kick her legs as the man on the boat tugged the other end. She felt herself trembling when she finally managed to reach the rope ladder. She grabbed on to a rung and tried to pull herself up, but her muscles had no more strength left.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” she cried as she slipped back into the water and flailed for the life preserver.

He didn’t say a word. He just dove off the boat.

A moment later, his head popped up beside her. “I should have realized. I’ll get you up. Just hook your arms around my shoulder.”