Kathleen Creighton - The Top Gun's Return

It was horrible-one of the worst things she'd ever experienced-watching that boy floating with his face in the water, and not being able to do anything about it. Every instinct she had told her to jump in the water and go to him. But she couldn't leave the boat-she couldn't. If she left the boat unattended and it drifted away, they could all drown.

Then, miracle of miracles, just when Jessie thought she wouldn't be able to stand by and do nothing one more second, the girl in the water stopped screaming. Face set in a mask of determined terror, she lunged for a floating life preserver…caught it and hung on. Paddling clumsily, sobbing, she made her way to her friend-brother?-and somehow, somehow, managed to get him turned over.

"Good girl! Now, hold on to him!" Jessie yelled, and slowly began to tow the life preserver back to the boat.

And all the while she was screaming inside her head, Oh God, Tristan-where are you?

He'd been down a long time- too long! Or did it only seem so? Her heart was tearing in two. Tristan, if you die I will never forgive you! How could you do this to us? How could you?

Then…she saw him. His head had erupted from the murky water, his mouth open…gasping. His eyes found hers, wild and dark in his pale, gaunt face. She saw that he was struggling with a large object-the bass fisherman! Tristan had a grip on his collar and was trying to bring him to the surface, at the same time straining toward a life preserver that was just out of his reach. He reached again, struggling to keep the fisherman's head above the water. And then…he went down again. Not purposefully, this time, not diving, but sinking slowly, clinging to Jessie's eyes with that fierce black gaze, full of apology and regret.

Jessie sank to her knees, sobbing. The life preserver, with two teenagers in tow, one barely alive, had reached the boat. Leaning over as far as she could, she managed to get her arms under the unconscious boy's and, with a heave that left her gasping, hauled his limp weight over the side. At the same time, she heard a shout and glancing up, saw Cory with his arms around Tris. He was holding him above the water!

But before she even had time to register relief and joy because of that, horrifyingly, all three men disappeared beneath the roiling surface. And Jessie's mind filled with thoughts of terrible domino drownings, of tragedies beyond comprehension…

Then Sammi June was there with her knee board, and she was snagging life preservers right and left and yelling and pulling and pushing and dragging people toward the boat. By that time Jessie was on her knees on the floor of the boat, giving CPR to the teenage boy while tears streamed unheeded down her face.

It was evening of that beautiful, terrible day. The sheriff's deputies and fire trucks, the ambulances and paramedics with their lifesaving ventilators and defibrillators had long since gone back to their bases. The fisherman and the teenager had been air-lifted to the nearest hospital; according to the most recent phone call, it appeared both were going to make it.

Tristan had refused to go to the hospital in spite of Jessie's urgings. Instead he'd taken a hot shower and put on clean clothes, eaten a bacon and tomato sandwich and fallen asleep on the couch. Sammi June and Cory, after showering and changing, and tomato sandwiches, had taken the boat out to watch the sunset on the lake. It had been a beautiful, radiant sunset.

Jessie, after feeding everyone and cleaning up the mess and phoning the hospital one more time, was the last one into the shower. When she emerged, she put on sweet-smelling lotion and a flowered sundress with a softly flared skirt and went to see if Tristan was awake.

He wasn't on the couch. She went out to the deck, and then she could see him, standing on the dock in the sunset's afterglow, looking out across the lake. She ran down the stairs, barefoot, and her heart was already racing faster than her footsteps.

"Hi," she said as she approached him, breathless as a girl. "What are you doing down here all by yourself?"

He turned slowly toward her but didn't answer the question. She wondered if he'd heard it. He seemed so distant. "Kids take the boat out?" he asked, and even his voice sounded faraway.

"Yeah." She tilted her head, smiling just a little, hoping he'd smile with her. "Have you forgiven him yet?"

"Forgiven?" He looked bewildered for a moment. Then suddenly the lost look on his face vanished, and he gave a rueful snort and rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess I'm gonna have to, aren't I? He saved my life. More than once."

"He's a good person," Jessie said, moving closer.

Tristan watched her warily, like a nervous animal eyeing an extended hand. "Yeah, he is. Sammi June could do a whole lot worse." His laugh was another soft snort. "Took me by surprise, is all."

"Me, too," said Jessie.

He inhaled cautiously, as if testing his ability to breathe. "I'm gonna have to figure out a new way to be with her. I know that…With you, too," he added after a moment, and looked away. When his eyes came back to her, they had that lost look again, but not the distance. This time the loneliness was right there, so close to her she felt the ache of it in her own heart. "I guess I always thought of you as somebody I needed to take care of, you know? Lead…teach…protect. I never knew how strong you are." He drew a quick, hurting breath and looked away once more. "The truth is, Jess, you don't really need me at all."

She wanted to cry out a denial. Instead she reached a hand toward him and said in a voice soft with anguish, "Oh, Tris. I don't need you to take care of me…I just need you to be. " His eyes jerked back to her, dark shadows in the dusk, and she cried out in a shaking voice, "Is that too much to ask?"

"Sometimes…lately…yeah." He looked at her, and the fear in her heart was like a vise, squeezing…squeezing. Then, so quietly she barely heard it, he said, "I almost died today, Jess."

"I know." The pain, the tension in her chest had become unbearable. She tried to lighten it. "And I'm not sure if I've forgiven you for that yet. If you'd died, I swear, I would've killed you."

Tristan's lips twitched, but the smile died before it reached his eyes. "I've been thinking…about what you said to me way back, before I left for the Gulf." Jessie caught her breath in a guilty little gulp. She'd been thinking about that, too. "You told me I was selfish," he went on, "to go off and leave you and Sammi June like that. At the time I didn't…but now I think you were right."

Jessie was shaking her head. "Uh-uh…no, I wasn't. Not unless being true to who you are is selfish." He gave his head a shake, not understanding. She reached out to him once more, touching his arm this time, and the tension in him made it feel more like steel than human flesh. The tension reached into her, and her voice quavered with it. "You told me then, it was something you had to do. I don't think I understood that then, but I do now. It was what you had to do, because that's just who you are. Like today. You had to jump into the water to try and rescue those people. I wanted to kill you for doin' it, but you couldn't not do it."

Tristan shook his head, and there was a stubbornness in his jaw she knew very well. "No. What I did-it was unfair to you and Sammi June. Look what-"

"It was unfair," Jessie interrupted, shaking in earnest now. "And, dammit, I'm not gonna let you take the blame for that. You know what? Life is unfair. Sometimes it just plain sucks. You went to the Gulf because you had to, and you jumped into that lake today because you had to, and both times I wanted to kill you because of it. But at the same time, I know it's just part of you. Part of what makes me love you." And she was crying now.