A Child To Open Their Hearts

He had a child in his arms. He had no choice but to let himself go. To ride the rip...

He was pushing the child up, rolling onto his back, trying to get the little one into the air. The water was sweeping...

‘Here!’

It was a yell and suddenly someone was beside him. A woman, dark-haired, fierce.

‘Give him to me. Help Sefina. Please!’

‘You can’t hold him.’ He didn’t even know if the child was alive.

Her face was suddenly inches from his, soaking curls plastered across her eyes, green eyes flashing determination. ‘I can. I know what to do. Trust me.’

And what was there in that that made him believe her?

What was there in that that made him thrust the limp little body into her arms and turn once again towards the rocks?

He had to trust her. He had to hope.

* * *

Joni was breathing. He’d been limp when he’d been thrust at her, but as she rolled and prepared to breathe for him—yes, she could do it in the water; lifesaver training had been useful—the little one gasped and choked and gasped again.

His eyes were shut, as if he’d simply closed down, ready for death. How many children drowned like this? Thirteen years as a nurse had taught Hettie that when children slipped untended into water they didn’t struggle. They drowned silently.

Somehow, though, despite not fighting, Joni must have breathed enough air to survive. As she touched his mouth with her lips he gasped and opened his eyes.

‘Joni.’ She managed to get his name out, even though she was fighting for breath herself. ‘It’s okay. Let’s get you to the beach.’

His huge brown eyes stared upwards wildly. Joni was fifteen months old, a chubby toddler with beautiful coffee-coloured skin and a tangle of dark curls. He was part islander, part...

Well, that was the problem, Hettie thought, her heart clenching in fear for his mother.

She couldn’t do anything for Sefina, though. The sailor—Max?—had handed her Joni and she had to care for him.

Where was he now? she wondered as she trod water. Her first impressions had been of strength, determination, resolution. His face had been almost impassive.

He’d need strength and more if he was swimming back against the reef. The risks...

She couldn’t think of him now. Her attention had to be on keeping Joni safe.

Keeping them both safe?

She cupped her hand around Joni’s chin and started side-stroking, as hard and fast as she could, willing him to stay limp. The rip was still a problem. Getting back to the beach was impossible. The boat was too close to the breakers, but the atoll at the end of the reef might just be possible. If she could just reach the rocks...

Blessedly Joni stayed limp. It must be shock, she thought as she fought the current, but she was thankful for it. He lay still while she towed.

But the rip was strong. She was fighting for breath herself, kicking, using every last scrap of strength she had, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t reach the atoll. It was so near and yet so far.

If she could just keep floating, someone would help, she thought. If she rode the rip out, if she could hold on to Joni...

But if he struggled...

She had no choice. The rip was too strong to fight.

She held him as far out of the water as she could and let herself be carried out to sea.

* * *

He had her. For what it was worth, he had her, but she was dead. He could see the head injury. He could see the way her head floated limply.

She must have crashed onto the rocks, he thought. She’d stepped straight down instead of diving outwards. Death would have been instantaneous. It had been a miracle that the child had stayed with her.

He had her free of the reef, but what to do now? He couldn’t get her to the beach. There was no way he could fight the rip. It was carrying them out fast, towards the atoll. Did he have enough strength to get them both there?

By himself there’d be no problem, but holding this woman...

He couldn’t.

She was dead. Let her go.

He couldn’t do that, either. A part of him was still standing at his son’s gravesite.

A part of him was remembering burying his wife, all those years ago.

Somewhere, someone loved this woman. To not have a chance to say goodbye... It would have killed him.

Holding on to her might kill him. He couldn’t keep fighting for both of them.

Despite the strength of the rip, the water he was in was relatively calm. He was fighting to get across the current but he paused for a moment in his fight to get a bearing. To see...

And what he saw made him rethink everything. The woman he’d given the child to still held him, but they were drifting fast, so fast they’d miss the atoll. They were being pulled to the open sea.

The woman didn’t seem to be panicking. She had the child in the classic lifesaver hold. She seemed to know her stuff, but she wasn’t strong enough. In minutes she’d be past the atoll and she’d be gone.

A woman and a child, struggling for life.

A woman in his arms, for whom life was over.

Triage. Blessedly it slammed back. For just a moment he was a junior doctor again in an emergency room, faced with the decision of which patient to treat first.

No choice.

He gave himself a fraction of a second, a moment where he tugged the woman’s body around and faced her. He memorised everything about her so he could describe her, and then, in an aching, tearing gesture that seemed to rip something deep inside, he touched her face. It was a gesture of blessing, a gesture of farewell.

It was all he could do.

He let her go.