All Shook Up Page 21

  A little over halfway across the lake, he noticed Dru’s eyebrows abruptly draw together. She frowned down at her feet, then looked back up at him.

  “J.D.? We’re taking on water.”

  He looked down and saw that lake water was indeed seeping up through the floorboards beneath Dru’s feet. His eyebrows snapped together. What the hell? Had he somehow missed seeing some gaps in the bent cedar planking? He didn’t see how that was possible, considering the way he’d gone over the craft again and again during the past week and a half. Yet he’d clearly missed something, for already water was beginning to pool up and down the keel line.

  He whispered a curse and sank his paddle deep in the water, pushing it forward to stop the canoe and swivel it around. He looked at Dru. “There’s a cup in the cooler. Start bailing, will you?”

  “J.D.?” Tate turned from his perch in the front of the canoe. “How come we’re turning back? Hey! There’s water all over the bottom!”

  “Yeah, we seem to have sprung a leak.” J.D. spared him a quick glance. “Be sure your life vest is fastened, Tate.” Then he returned his attention to putting as much power behind his strokes as he could to get them back to shore before the canoe filled.

  But it was starting to take on water at an accelerated rate, and because he far outweighed Dru and Tate, it rolled down to his end, which rapidly began to fill up. The bow lifted up, while the stern settled lower and lower in the water.

  And he knew they weren’t going to make it.

  “Whoa!” Tate yelled, as if he were on a carnival ride that had just taken an unexpected twist.

  To even out the weight distribution, J.D. moved to kneel by the mid-boat thwart in front of Dru. “It’s taking on too much water too fast,” he told her quietly. “I think it’d be safer for us to go into the water now, before matters get critical. I’m sorry.” He’d clearly failed to do something or had overlooked an important step when he’d restored the boat, and his mistake had put her and Tate in danger as a result.

  “Ah, no,” she said and leaned forward to cup his face in her hands. “I’m sorry, John David. Your beautiful boat.” She gave him a swift, hard kiss, then turned in her seat as the stern sank deeper into the water. “Tate, come here.”

  He slid down to them, staying low, and shot J.D. a calm look. “We jumpin’ ship?”

  “I’m afraid so, kid. Let me help you over.” J.D. rose up on his knees and reached past Dru to slide his hands beneath Tate’s armpits. He carefully lifted the boy over the side and lowered him into the lake. “Tate,” he said seriously, looking down at the child whose flotation vest kept him bobbing upright in the water, “I want you to swim well out of range of the boat.”

  Then he reached for Dru, but she bent forward and gave him a soft peck on the lips. “I can do it,” she said. “You just concentrate on saving your canoe.” And she rolled over the side with a soft splash.

  He wanted to get the boat turned over while there were still pockets of air in it to keep it afloat. But the stern had swamped fast and was already beginning to sink. J.D. bailed into the water, then turned to see what he could salvage from the situation.

  The stern was going under and the bow was rising straight up in the air, and it was a toss-up whether the craft would simply sink straight down or continue over and come down upside down. He hoped for the latter—until he saw it would happen exactly that way…and that Tate was right in the descending bow’s path.

  “Tate!” he yelled. “Get back!” He launched himself forward.

  Dru screamed her son’s name at the same time, and the pure terror in her voice sent Tate, who had started to turn at J.D.’s yell, paddling back around to face her. He was blind to the danger headed his way, and J.D. put on a burst of speed, swimming faster than he’d ever swum in his life.

  He knew he wasn’t going to make it in time to push Tate beyond the rapidly descending bow’s path, so he threw all his energy into one last powerful butterfly stroke that brought his shoulders rearing up out of the water. With only seconds to spare, he landed on top of Tate, and his hands shoved the boy deep beneath the surface of the water. Red-hot agony exploded between J.D.’s shoulder blades in the next instant as the point of the bow hammered down on top of him; then he too was submerged, driven underwater several feet to a place both cool and dark. Nerves sang up to his neck, across his shoulders, and down both arms, and inhaling sharply through his mouth in an involuntary response to the pain, he swallowed a copious amount of lake water.

  It rushed down his windpipe and up his nose, and he sank deeper beneath the surface. His lungs burned with the need to cough, and for just a moment he couldn’t tell up from down.

  Then he realized that his body mass had pushed Tate’s skinny little frame deeper underwater and blocked the boy’s life vest from doing its job. Wrapping his hands around Tate’s waist, he scooped him out from under him and thrust the boy toward the golden-greenish light that sent shafts through the lake’s uppermost strata. He shot toward the surface in Tate’s wake.

  Both sucked in great gulps of oxygen the instant their heads broke through water into fresh air. They were immediately racked by harsh paroxysms of coughing, which forced brackish water out of their lungs. Then Dru was there to pull Tate into her arms and support him until he quit coughing.

  One arm hooked desperately around her neck, he turned to glare at J.D. through red-rimmed eyes full of baffled anger and betrayal. “You tried to drown me!”

  The accusation hit J.D. like a fist in the gut, and the little bit of breath he’d managed to regain stopped up in his throat. In the small corner of his brain still functioning on logic, he understood that Tate had been facing away from him and knew only that one minute he’d been treading water, and the next J.D. had shoved him under and held him down.

  Emotionally, though, the I’ve-been-double-crossed look in the boy’s eyes went straight to his heart, and he stared back mutely without a word to say in his own defense.

  “No!” Dru cried with heartfelt passion. She grasped Tate’s chin and tugged it around until he looked at her. “No. The canoe flipped over and was just about to hit you in the head! He had to push you out of the way, Tate! He saved your life.” She sidestroked the two of them toward J.D. “Oh, God, John David, thank you for saving my baby’s life!”

  Reaching him, she released one of the arms that fiercely hugged Tate to her breast and wrapped it around J.D.’s neck, turning it into a three-way embrace. She pressed frantic kisses of gratitude against his throat, his chin, his jaw. Then she drew back and studied him with worried eyes. “You were hurt,” she said. “I saw the canoe slam down on top of you.” She tried to turn him to see. “Show me where you’re hurt.”

  He’d never had anyone mother him in his life, and he shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s nothing,” he said roughly. “I’m fine.” A spot between his shoulder blades ached like a sonovabitch, but there was nothing that could be done about it out here in the middle of the lake. Besides, he was a grown man; he didn’t need to be fussed over.

  Even if it did feel kind of nice.

  Then Tate’s arm snaked around his neck, too. “I’m sorry, J.D.,” he said in a small, tremulous voice. His chin wobbled and tears rose in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said…I didn’t mean”—his voice suddenly cracked—“I just wanna go home!”

  J.D. had once been ten years old himself and remembered what it felt like to cry in front of others, so he pressed Tate’s head down onto his shoulder to give him some privacy. “Your mama and I are going to get you home real soon, buddy,” he said into the child’s ear and rubbed his jaw against Tate’s sleek, wet crown. “I promise. And I’m sorry I scared you. I wouldn’t have done that for the world if I could’ve avoided it.”

  “’Kay,” the boy said with a sniff.

  Then J.D. heard the whine of an outboard motor, and he looked up to see one of the lodge speedboats racing across the lake toward them. The driver throttled back when he was a hundred feet away and the boat gen
tly rode the wake that continued to push it forward, easing to an expert stop alongside them. J.D. recognized the driver as one of the young men who worked in the sport shop and saw with surprise that Sean, the bellhop, was with him.

  “Are you guys all right?” Sean demanded, leaning over the side. “We saw the canoe come down on top of you. Is everybody okay?”

  J.D. felt Tate’s hand go up to hastily knuckle the tears from his eyes, and to give him an extra minute to compose himself, he gently urged Dru forward. “Why don’t you go first?”

  She glanced at Tate, then nodded and raised her hands to Sean for a boost up.

  J.D. watched her come out of the water and hook a leg over the side of the speedboat. He figured he couldn’t be injured all that seriously when he found himself admiring the way her wet suit molded to the lush curve of her bottom as she tumbled over the side into the craft.

  Tate wiped his nose on J.D.’s shoulder and J.D. tucked in his chin to look down at him. “You ready, buddy?”

  “Yeah.”

  He tightened his arms around the boy for a second. “You were one brave kid throughout this whole ordeal and handled yourself like a pro. I’m proud of you.” He lifted Tate up to Sean, who swung him into the boat.

  Then he took one last look around. He knew the tip of the canoe was most likely bobbing somewhere just beneath the surface, but there wasn’t so much as a ripple on the water’s surface to show where. For an instant a despairing sort of sickness sat heavily on his gut. Then, with a mental shrug that helped shove the feeling aside, he reached up to grab hold of the speedboat’s side and lever himself up out of the water.

  20

  Sophie and Ben were waiting on their dock when the boat pulled up alongside it, alerted by a call from the boat’s cell phone.

  J.D. rose stiffly to his feet and stood back to let Dru and Tate climb out first. Thanking the two young men for their prompt rescue, he stepped up onto the dock and watched as Ben uncleated the line he’d looped around a piling and tossed it to Sean. Then he braced himself for the older man’s condemnation. He didn’t doubt for a moment it would be swift in coming.

  Sophia swooped down on Dru and Tate before the boat even had a chance to back out of its mooring. She wrapped her arms around her chicks and hugged them to her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, we’re fine,” Dru said. “J.D.’s hurt, though.”

  “He pushed me under the water, Grandma,” Tate said excitedly, and J.D. had to marvel at the kid’s ability to bounce back so quickly. “I thought he was gonna drown me, but he was getting me outta the way of the canoe when it came down. Then POW! It got him instead.”

  Dru disengaged herself from Sophie’s embrace. “Uncle Ben, there are towels in my bag over there. Could you get them out?” She crossed over to J.D. “Turn around. I want to see your back.”

  “Let it go,” he said brusquely. “It was a minor pop, nothing worth fussing over.” Even if it did throb like a bitch in heat.

  It was no more than he deserved, anyhow. He rolled his shoulders guiltily, then had to bite back a groan at the pain.

  Dru narrowed her eyes at him. She was chock-full of unspent adrenaline and in no mood for his stubbornness. He’d take care of her and Tate in a red-hot minute, but just let the tables be turned and it was “nothing worth fussing over.”

  “You don’t seem to understand, Carver,” she informed him with a levelness she was darn proud of, considering she really wanted to yell Listen up! and shake some sense into him. “That wasn’t a request for permission. Turn around!”

  To her amazement, he did. He looked less than happy about it and he muttered beneath his breath as if it were just one huge waste of time, but he actually humored her and presented her with his back.

  She sucked in a shocked breath. The skin between his shoulder blades was scraped raw in an inverted V, and additional scrapes trailed down his back. The skin around the point of impact was badly swollen, and a dense purple bruise had begun to bloom from it, spreading across his shoulder blades like the wings of a malignant butterfly.

  “Oh,” she said in a tiny voice that not only wavered but was several notes higher than normal. She cleared her throat. “Uncle Ben! Come quick.”

  She felt J.D. stiffen in resistance, but she didn’t give a damn. If anyone would know what to do about this, it was her uncle.

  Ben looked at J.D.’s back and winced. “Ouch. Looks like it did a number on him, all right.”

  “And this would have been Tate’s head if J.D. hadn’t thrown himself between him and the canoe.”

  “It was my damn canoe that put him in that position in the first place,” J.D. growled.

  Dru ignored that remark for the idiocy she felt it was. “Do something!” she demanded of her uncle.

  He’d been gently pressing the skin around the worst of the abrasions, and he nodded. “Let’s go up to the house.” He squeezed J.D.’s shoulder. “I’m sure it hurts like crazy, but I don’t think we’re looking at any serious or permanent damage.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Dru,” J.D. said and turned to face them. His posture was wary, his expression shuttered. “Look, I’ll just go home and wash it off in the shower.”

  “No,” Ben said firmly. “You’ll come up to the house and let me clean and dress it properly.”

  “Grandpa was a medic in Vietnam,” Tate informed J.D. proudly. “So you better do what he says.” He darted around to see J.D.’s back for himself. The sight of it froze him in his tracks. “Jeez.” He swallowed hard, his expression miserable. “Aw, dang, J.D., I’m sorry.”

  J.D. turned to look down at him in surprise. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, bud. None of this was your fault.”

  “Uh-huh. You told me to swim out of range, and I didn’t go far enough.”

  “No,” J.D. insisted. “You were a trouper from beginning to end. If anyone’s to blame here, it’s me. I never should have had you in the canoe until I’d made sure I hadn’t missed something.”

  “Oh, please,” Sophie said with brisk impatience. She scowled at J.D. “I’ve always regarded you as an intelligent man, so don’t go getting stupid on me now.”

  She picked up a towel and wrapped it around Tate’s shoulders, tossed one to Dru, then walked up to J.D. with the last one. She offered it to him along with a stern stare.

  Dru was surprised to see him shift beneath that drilling gaze as uneasily as Tate ever had whenever he’d found himself its unlucky recipient. But J.D. obviously hadn’t yet learned to duck and run for cover. Accepting the towel, he slung it around his neck, met her gaze head-on, and stubbornly maintained, “I still shouldn’t have risked their safety like that.”

  “Don’t piss me off, boy,” Sophie began hotly, but Ben deftly inserted himself between her and J.D.

  “You’re pushing some real hot buttons here, son,” he said, and herded the younger man toward the trail. “Soph is real big on personal accountability.”

  “I’m trying to be accountable!”

  “And you’re doing a damn fine job of it. But what you’re not doing is allowing Dru and Tate to be responsible for their own actions.”

  Drucilla, following them up the switchback, watched J.D. turn a blank expression on her uncle. His dark brows gathering over his nose, he demanded, “What are you talking about?”

  “Hell, son, think about it. Both of them knew before they ever stepped foot in your canoe that it was an old wreck whose seaworthiness was iffy at best.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that,” J.D. agreed. “But they also knew I’m good at fixing things. They trusted me to fix the canoe so it was seaworthy.” He stopped and faced Ben. “And I thought I had. I swear to you, Ben, I went over that boat with a fine-tooth comb. I read everything on the subject I could get my hands on, and I could have sworn she was watertight.”

  “So something slipped by you.” Ben shrugged and got them moving again. “It happens.”

  “Not to me it doesn’t. Not usually.”
<
br />   Dru held her breath, expecting to hear her uncle lambast J.D. for his arrogance.

  Instead, he merely said with gentle sincerity, “I’m real sorry about your boat, son. I know you were crazy about it. But sometimes shit just happens. If it’s any solace, though, it’s a wooden craft, so it’s probably already surfaced. We can retrieve it when you’re feeling better.”

  J.D.’s shoulders were stiff with repudiation. “What’s the point? Like you said, it was a wreck and I obviously didn’t know jack about fixing it.”

  Ben opened his front door and stood back to let J.D. and then Dru precede him into the house. He directed a level look at the younger man. “Still. Unless we pull it out, you’ll never know exactly what went wrong.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” Then J.D. nodded. “You’re right.”

  Ben led them to the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair from the table. “Here, sit down,” he directed J.D. “I’ll go grab my kit.”

  J.D. swung the chair around, set his towel down on its seat, and straddled it. He folded his arms across the backrest and stared glumly into space.

  Dru came up behind him and curled her hands over the rounded muscles where his shoulders met his arms. Careful to avoid contact with the growing bruises, she gently kneaded them. “I’m real sorry about your canoe, too, J.D.”

  He craned around to see her. “Why the hell is everyone being so nice about this? I came this close to killing your kid!”

  “No, darn it, you did not!” She sank to her heels next to him, her hands gripping his thigh. She gave his leg a fierce shake. “Tate and I weren’t about to be left on shore while you had all the fun of taking the canoe out on her maiden voyage. And Uncle Ben is absolutely right—we knew the risks involved. You don’t have to assume responsibility for the world here, John David. Let us be accountable for our own actions.”

  J.D. got a wild look in his eyes, but before he could say a word, Ben returned with his first-aid kit. An instant later Tate burst into the house, with Sophie a mere second or two in his wake. For several moments then, confusion reigned and the noise level climbed as Ben cleaned and bandaged J.D.’s back and the rest of them fussed over him.