The Top Gun's Return

hands steady on the wheel, the wind riffling through his hair.

How incredible this must be for him, she thought. And how hard. Incredible because it had been so long since he'd known such freedom…such joy. Hard because she knew he'd have much preferred to be out there in the water himself; on a single ski, Tris had been poetry in motion. But, while he'd come a long way in the past weeks and in spite of his determination to build back his strength to what it had been before his capture, he was still a long way from being ready for the rigors of the sport of waterskiing. And thank God, Jessie thought, he was smart enough to know that. Still…it must be hard for him, and she wondered if that was why he'd chosen to wear knee-length shorts, sandals and a print shirt borrowed from C.J. instead of bathing trunks.

Or maybe, she thought as she turned back to the skiers, it was that he felt uncomfortable about showing his scars…

A moment later the run was brought to a halt when a jet ski, manned by two young teenagers, cut too close to the skiers. Jessie sent up a yelp as first Cory, then Sammi June hit the water, but Tris had seen trouble coming and already had the boat throttled down. He was swearing under his breath as he brought the boat around in a wide circle, trailing the tow grips.

'Those kids don't have good sense,' Jessie said.

'They're gonna kill somebody,' Tris growled, skillfully maneuvering the towlines so the skiers could grab them easily.

'That was a great run,' Jessie called, as Cory, grinning and exuberant, paddled his ski toward the tow rope. 'Hey-you guys 'bout ready to take a break yet?'

Cory's mouth opened, and so did Sammi June's. But instead of words Jessie heard a shout and, a split second later, a terrible, grinding crunch. For a moment she stared at the skiers, unable to process what could have happened to her hearing. Then behind her she heard Tris swearing loudly, angrily, as he put the boat in gear and headed it out across the water.

'Take the wheel,' he shouted at her, already half out of his seat. And she saw what he had seen.

At the mouth of a small cove inlet maybe fifty yards away, the jet ski that had brushed past them minutes before lay in the water at a crazy angle. Next to it, a bass boat was slowly sinking. One of the teenagers, a girl with long blond hair, was clinging to the jet ski, dazed and disoriented. Her friend, buoyed by his life vest, was floating nearby, facedown in the water. Of the occupants of the bass boat there was no sign.

All this Jessie absorbed in the space of a few seconds-or split seconds-how could she know, when time moved in stops and jerks? And even as she was moving to take over the boat's controls, knowing she had no choice but to do so, she was screaming, 'Tris-no! Don't you dare-Tris!'

But he was taking off his sandals…and his shirt, and then he was perched on the side of the boat, like a runner in starting blocks. He wasn't wearing a life vest, and neither was Jessie. As she brought the boat as close to the wreck as she dared, he straightened up, measured the distance, then cut the water in a clean, shallow dive, leaving her anguished shout shivering in the air like the aftermath of a cymbal's crash.

'Tristan!' Frozen in terror and making furious, whimpering sounds, she railed at him. 'Tristan, what are you doing? Damn you…oh, damn you-' Then, turning frantically, she began to scream for help, and she could see Cory churning toward them, swimming as if a whole school of sharks was in pursuit. Right behind him was Sammi June on the knee board, dipping both arms into the water in powerful strokes.

Still struggling to control her own panic, with help on the way Jessie turned back to the disaster in front of her. Relief burst from her in a gasp when she saw Tristan's head break the water, but that relief was short-lived. After looking around wildly for an instant, he gave a leap and back down he went.

Meanwhile, the teenage girl had recovered her wits enough to realize where she was and what had happened to her. Seeing her friend lying facedown in the water, she began screaming her head off. Jessie put the boat's engine in neutral, then gathered up the life preservers and threw them, one by one, toward the hysterical girl, at the same time yelling at her to grab hold of one and for God's sake, turn the boy over!

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?

Chapter 16

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