that if he’d been at death’s door. I shudder.
Gramps sees it and mistakes it for cold. He shrugs out of his yellow slicker and drapes it around my shoulders.
“You keep it.” I start to take it off.
He lays a hand on my shoulders. “Keep it, girl.” He bends down awkwardly. I can almost hear old bones creak. “He’s breathing.”
Is he? Does it take air to kiss someone senseless?
Gramps tilts him to the side so he can cough up any water he’s swallowed.
Tyler lets loose and expels what he’s taken in. While Tyler wheezes, Gramps moves in front of me to block his view. He pulls the collar up around me and sticks his yellow-billed, heavy-duty, rain hat on my head, and pulls it down where my eyes are shadowed. “Let’s get him in the truck.”
I nod. I’m not just worried about Tyler. Gramps doesn’t need to be out in the damp, chilled to the bone, at his age. In two months, he’ll turn seventy-one.
He’d scoff at my concerns so I don’t bother to voice them.
We each put an arm around Tyler and half-drag, half-carry him to the truck. The old door opens with a loud squawk. We lift Tyler inside. At a stiff gait, Gramps trots to the driver’s side and climbs in. I hoist myself on the seat and slam the door.
Tyler’s head falls against my shoulder. I have no idea whether he is conscious or has slipped back into unconsciousness. Gramps turns the key and the old truck roars to life. He reaches over and turns up the heat. The warm air blowing out the vents feels like heaven. I balance Tyler with my free arm and slouch back against the worn leather seat, my eyes closed, exhausted.
I must have drifted off because the next thing I know, Gramps is pulling me gently out of the truck. “Come on, Piper, wake up. Let’s get you both inside.”
I pry open sticky eyes and nod. My arms and legs feel like lead. Every bone in my body aches. Tyler shifts against me. The heat helped but he’s still chilly. A shudder runs through him. His face is white, his sunken eyes stained purple.
“We need to get him in the house.” The old seat groans as I shift uneasily. I slide off the seat and out of the truck.
“Piper?” Tyler’s head rests on the back of the seat, his long thick lashes resting on the taut skin under his eyes.
I open my mouth to respond. Gramps shakes his head. I snap my mouth shut, appalled. What if I’d responded and he made the connection between the woman who rescued him and me?
I tug on Gramps’ arm and whisper in his ear, “Do we need to take him to the hospital?”
He shakes his head and says in a low voice, “I’ve hauled enough men out of the sea to know he’s going to be alright.” Without saying another word, we drag him into the cottage and the little spare bedroom in the back. Gramps keeps his fishing rods there and I have a pen and a couple of cages for the occasional hurt turtle or bird I bring home to nurse back to health. A small sparrow, with a wing healing, chirps from his perch.
We manage to get Tyler onto the twin bed where he drops face down on the gray and white striped duvet. His long, lanky body makes the bed look even smaller.
With a grunt, Gramps rolls him over, fumbling at the clasp of the bright orange life vest Tyler still wears. I start forward to help. With an abrupt jerk of his head, Gramps motions me out of the room.
I nod and slip out. I hang up his raincoat and hat on the peg in the hallway then head for my room. Feeling fragile as cracked glass about to shatter, I head for the bathroom. There I drop my wet suit on the floor and climb into the shower. I turn the water on hot as possible and stand under it, my head down, my palms on the side of the wall. Steam that smells of vanilla-strawberry gel fills the tiny room.
I no longer feel the cold in my bones as I step out of the shower and go to my room, a soft old blue towel wrapped around me and tied above my breasts.
With a martyred sigh, I pull out baggy linen pants and one of Gramps’ plaid shirts that hangs past my knees. Grimacing, I push the sleeves up and scrape back my hair. I lift the wretched glasses with all the enthusiasm I’d show a poisonous snake. Oh well, it can’t be helped.
My nerd costume firmly in place, I make my way down the hall. Gramps is pulling blankets up to Tyler’s chin. He straightens and motions toward the hall.
“How is he?” I whisper.
“Exhausted.” Gramps takes my arm and leads me to the kitchen. He pulls eggs out of the refrigerator. With a flick of the wrist, he cracks them, the sound melding with the homey hum of the refrigerator. “He surfaced long enough to ask if you’d rescued him.”
“And you said?”
“That I found him on the shore and brought him home.”
“Thanks, Gramps.” I heave a sigh of relief.
“Have you called his parents yet?” He beats the eggs.
“No, I thought we’d better get our stories straight first.”
“You’ve been here all day. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” He looks over his shoulder and grins. His blues eyes twinkle like a young man’s.
One look at that grin and my heart warms. He’s the most important person in my universe. I refuse to think about his age or that he won’t be around forever. “I like your story.”
“I thought you might. You better call.” He turns around and goes back to his eggs.
“Will do. By the way, what time is it?”
He glances at his watch. “Two-thirty.”
“In the afternoon?” No way. I’d been in the water, in the middle of a storm for almost six hours. But then again, so had Tyler. Who knew when his catamaran turned over.
“That’s right.” Our eyes meet. The worry he felt surfaces before it’s quickly hidden.
Trying for reassuring, I wink at him.
He winks back. “While you were out there, I kept thinking of the night you were born. There was a gale blowing then, too, and the rain coming down hard enough it washed the roads out. Good thing your daddy and momma decided to have you at home. We wouldn’t have been able to get out anyway.” His face softens as he speaks and his lips turn up in a reminiscent smile.
“Having Grams deliver me was a good decision.” I grin and point over my shoulder to my blowhole.
“Neither of your parents knew how much of your momma’s DNA you carried and didn’t want to take any chances with anyone outside the family. But that’s ancient history. You best make that phone call.”
“Right.” Lifting myself from the chair, I trot to my room, groaning as my creaky legs complain. I scoop my cell phone off the dresser and hit speed dial.
“Hello.” Holly’s voice sounds strained.
“Holly, it’s Piper. I wanted to let you know, your brother is all right.”
