I JUMP OUT OF the boat and reach for Matilda but my fingertips just miss the fabric of her dress as I am pushed under, and she rushes past me in a surge of water, and is gone.
Beneath the waves I open my eyes, frantically looking for her, above and below me, but the water is thick with silt and debris and I am blind. The muffled silence betrays the chaos taking place above. My lungs burn with the desire to breathe as I kick for the surface, and as I break through the water she is in front of me.
A wave pushes me toward her and for a moment we hold each other’s gaze and all the lost years and all the heartache and despair distill down into that one final frantic moment. When faced with the ultimate choice of living or dying we perhaps know ourselves better than ever. I try desperately to grab her hands, but she goes under again.
With one last breath, I dive beneath the water and reach for her, my fingertips gripping her wrist as I drag her up until we both break free of the water. I flip onto my back and kick with every ounce of strength in my body, determined to save her, determined not to lose her again. A wave carries us forward, smashing us beside the horseshoe-shaped beach. I take my chance and scramble onto the rocks, not caring for the way the sharp edges scrape and tear at my skin as I drag Matilda behind me.
A dead weight in my arms I struggle to pull her out of the water. I grit my teeth and use all my strength, never more grateful for the swell that helps me haul her up and onto land. She slides from my grasp and slumps onto the rocks, her head hitting the stones with a sickening thud.
I fall to my knees and push her hair from her face and start pumping at her chest and breathing into her mouth. One, two, three, four, breathe, breathe . . . One, two, three, four, breathe, breathe . . . Her lips are the palest violet. Her skin gray as dust. Her hair is matted and speckled with sand that glistens when the beam of the light settles on us.
Leaning back on my heels, I grip my head, my fingers like a vice. “Breathe, Matilda! You’ve got to breathe! Breathe!” I scream at her, lean forward, and start again.
One, two, three, four, breathe, breathe.
One, two, three, four, breathe, breathe.
I pump as hard as I dare while the wind howls above and I press my face to hers and will my child to breathe, to stay with me, gasping for air as I give her whatever I can spare, not caring if I give her my last breath, as long as she wakes up. And then a sudden jerk in my arms and she convulses violently as water shoots from her mouth. Quickly, I roll her onto her side, holding her head so she can eject the seawater from her lungs. Still it keeps coming as she gasps and splutters.
“That’s it, Matilda. Breathe. You’ll be all right now. Everything’ll be all right.”
She coughs again as I shush and soothe her as she huddles against my chest, finding her breath, grasping on to the life that had so nearly left her. Gradually, her breathing regulates and the color returns to her lips and cheeks. Only then does she look at me, blue-black eyes fixing on mine, and without words or explanation, we cling to each other for all the years we have missed, and everything we ever needed is right there in our arms.
We stand up then, stumbling together toward the lighthouse as fast as we can, both of us convulsing with cold and shock, but I slip on the rocks as Matilda reaches the lighthouse door, and as I try to stand up another huge wave sweeps me back into the heaving ocean.
The water engulfs me, pulling me down. For a moment I struggle, but I know I don’t have the energy to fight it and all I can think is that Matilda and Grace are safe in the lighthouse.
Quietly, I accept my fate.
Everything becomes strangely calm as I close my eyes and I know that for all my shortcomings and imperfections, I loved my children with the passion of a storm and that, in the end, it is perhaps all we can ever hope for. To have loved, and to have been loved in return.
When I open my eyes, Cora is there. She takes my hand and together we become the fragments of light captured on the surface of the water, carried eternally on by the tides.