It wasn’t. The pool was deep: so deep, he couldn’t see the bottom. So deep, he couldn’t tell how far down he was looking. Finally, desperate, he dove in, swimming down, down, down, his eyes open and his head turning. It seemed like forever before he saw anything. Despairing, he knew he’d have to go back up for a breath, and then… Oh, God. There. The shape was dark, unmoving, hanging in the water like submerged garbage. But he could see—God!—pale hair floating around the head. His lungs screamed for air, but his hands closed on the small child and he kicked hard to drive them upward. Light began to penetrate the water and he could almost see the face. He didn’t have to—it was Nate, of course it was Nate. I’m too late. I should have been here. His entire body was in agony now. Bubbles trailed behind him as he released his last remaining air. With a final kick, he burst through the surface and dragged in a breath, then another.
What do You think about Making Her Way Home (2012)?
