Warning Signs. Katy Lee
touch her. Would he find her asleep? Dead? Had his rescue not come in time?
“Miss, can you hear me? Are you hurt? Do you need help?”
Nothing.
His hand reached for the curve of her neck and gently felt for her pulse on icy-cold skin. She moaned, and her heart’s life-beating sound brought Owen a mix of relief and elation. She might be hurt, but at least she was alive. Thank you, Lord, Owen’s reflexive prayer of thanksgiving had him wiping an old bitter aftertaste from his salty lips.
“God had nothing to do with saving this girl,” he muttered. “God’s not here. I’m here.”
Owen reached for the scratchy wool blanket behind him and stretched it over her arms and chest to warm her. Instantly, her eyes flashed open wide and another short sound deep in her throat escaped her pale lips. A moan of pain? A quick jerk of her head triggered him to brace her in case.
“Miss?” He gripped both sides of her face and peered into stark gray eyes, as gray as the stone she lay on. Fear shone up at him. “Don’t move. You could have a spinal injury. Can you tell me if you hurt anywhere?”
She struggled beneath the blanket, arms fumbling and pushing with a strength that caught him off guard. Owen pressed her arms down and shushed her. He couldn’t safely move her to the boat like this.
She moaned again, more forcefully, louder. It didn’t sound like a moan of pain now, but rather anger. She was mad at him? For helping her? She shoved harder at the blanket between them. Her lips parted for the loudest, most forceful sound yet. It sounded like the word “off” without the pronunciation of the f’s. It took him a second before her word hit him like a left hook to his gut.
Owen jumped away from the muffled sounds he would recognize anywhere. They were the same kind of sounds his son made when he tried to speak—ever since he’d lost his hearing the night he’d nearly drowned in the crash.
This woman wasn’t injured at all. She didn’t answer him because, like his son, she was deaf.
* * *
Miriam Hunter fumbled under the attack of a strong-armed man. The scare tactics to get rid of her had turned physical. Ever since she’d arrived, the islanders had made it known she wasn’t wanted. First, the nasty notes and emails, then the late-night crank calls. And now this...this assault.
How dare this guy sneak up on her in this secluded place? The one place she could fully get away from their angry stares. As though it was her fault drugs had come to their precious island.
Just because the marijuana showed up after she arrived didn’t mean she’d brought it with her. The bag of marijuana found in her office had been placed there by one of the very townspeople who wanted her gone—perhaps even by this guy leaning over her.
Angrily, Miriam heaved at the heavy material scratching her skin. She didn’t have to think twice as to why he’d covered her with it. He might as well have sealed her lips with duct tape. She strained against him to free her hands—her voice. He wouldn’t understand a word she signed, but it would make her feel better to put him in his place. She wouldn’t sit here and allow him to silence her. She pushed at him again, but his strength wouldn’t relent.
Who is this guy? Miriam didn’t recognize him as a parent. He seemed too young to have a child in high school. Thirty-two, tops. His dark cropped hair screamed military, not shaggy, salt-drenched fisherman.
But the eyes...
She stilled to study the rich black-currant irises inches from her face. Sharp and assessing eyes, not accusing and vindictive. She thought they held a message of caring, but before she could decipher it clearly, all emotion dipped behind their onyx surface like the secrets of the sea, safely hidden beneath murky depths.
His tensed lips moved, too close for her to read. Then as much as she abhorred talking, Miriam broke her vow and opened her mouth to tell him to get off.
The look on his clean-shaven face abruptly changed from determination to...shock? Her deafness surprised him? If he didn’t know she was deaf, then he wasn’t from Stepping Stones. He was a stranger—and she was alone on a rock in the ocean with him.
Every self-defense move Miriam had learned in college jumped to attention in her head. She tried to recall if there was a maneuver for when someone had you pinned under a blanket. Never did she think those tactics would be used, but perhaps this was the moment God had prepared her for through all those classes. Stay with me, Father, she signed her prayer of petition in her head because her hands were still secured under the blanket. Give me strength and the knowledge to break away. She mindfully pulled out the scripture tucked in her heart for times of darkness.
Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Miriam used the words from Isaiah 41 to hurl all her strength at the man again. This time, he jolted back as though she’d burned him. Without waiting another second, she sat up, flung off the blanket and scooted back.
He fell onto his haunches, hands raised in surrender, but her flight reflex still had her retreating farther away until she’d reached the edge of the rock. Her heart raced, pounding adrenaline through her head and body. Even being deaf, she could hear it coursing through her.
He hadn’t moved from his place, but he spoke again. Miriam studied his lips as her breathing steadied. He said something about kelp. She shook her head in confusion and a bit of annoyance. People always thought deaf people could read lips. She supposed she could read them half the time, but that left a lot of room for error, which is why she usually traveled with her interpreter—except in the afternoon when she swam out to the lighthouse to be alone. Never did she think she would need Nick way out here.
The stranger’s tall, lean frame bent to pick up a box labeled with the symbol of a red cross. He held it up to her and clarity came swiftly.
He hadn’t said kelp. He’d said help. He thought she needed help.
But why? What gave him the idea in the first place?
Miriam searched the island and figured it to be about five hundred yards away. Not a huge distance for a former competitive open-water swimmer like herself. But this man wouldn’t know she swam out to the lighthouse for exercise each day. He probably thought only a stranded and injured person would be this far from land.
Miriam supposed she could try to speak aloud to explain, but a long time ago she’d vowed only to use her voice when absolutely necessary. And giving this stranger her personal information wasn’t necessary.
In fact, the only thing necessary was to get off this rock quickly. Miriam didn’t believe she faced any danger from him anymore, but she also wasn’t inclined to be friendly.
She cagily followed his movements to the other side of the rock, where his boat was anchored.
He gestured with his hand for her to climb in, pointing toward the island.
Before thinking, she naturally lifted her hands to sign. After the first few signs, stating she would swim back, she stopped and waved her hands to say forget it. He wouldn’t understand anyway. She stood on the edge, still keeping him in her sight while preparing to dive in. But before her feet left the rock, Miriam glanced back at him one last time and froze.
His hand pointed to his chest, then rose to the side of his temple. She watched his index finger slowly point up toward the sky. “I understand,” he signed.
She nearly stumbled over. He knew her language? Would he say more? She waited, hating herself because deep down she hoped he would. How quickly she willingly trusted this man just because he understood her.
For so long, though, she’d been a foreigner in this hearing world, desperately seeking companionship. Now she stood face-to-face with the one thing she sought. Forever on the lookout for someone like her, or someone who understood her. Or at least wanted to try.
Poor Nick earned his pay and