akes
triguing
was deserted except for our gang and little Elise
drifting farther and farther away. Was she wearing a
life jacket? No. Her little body was tucked up against
the back of the floating lounge chair. At any moment
she might hear the commotion and get off.
Someone had their motor boat anchored not too
far away. I charged toward it, high stepping against
the mid-calf-deep water. I leapt onto the craft and
tore away the cover. Of course, no keys.
Then a young man on a surfboard appeared,
poling himself through the shallow water. I returned
to the women and frantically explained what was
happening. Courageously, he attempted to pole
himself toward Elise but to no avail. She was drifting
away too quickly, and he soon gave up.
We had quit yelling. We didn’t want to alarm
her. We hoped she would remain still. And then it