I conveyed my concern about jumping in and the possibility of drowning, calling 911, and then seeing his body floating on the surface of the water, and my dragging him to the shore and placing him in the recovery position.
The officers made copious notes and nodded sagely, stopping only to ask questions whenever they needed clarification.
“Did the pilot say anything before he passed unconscious?” the officer said.
“No,” I said. “He just passed right out… No, wait. He did say something. What was it now? Something about shadows. ‘Beware of the shadows’ or something like that.”
“Shadows?” the officer said, ears perking up.
“That’s what he said.”
“What do you think he was referring to when he said the word ‘shadows’?”
“I have no idea. He wasn’t in the best condition. He’d just fallen from the sky. He was lucky to be saying anything at all.”
The officer nodded, not so sure.
“Did anything else happen while you waited for the ambulance to arrive?”
I thought back to the scene, with the rain pouring down and us caked in mud, and the final few gurgling belches from the plane as it sank deeper into the lake’s bedrock.
We were illuminated by my pick-up’s bright headlights and I quickly fished the worn blanket off the backseat.
I draped it over the pilot and crouched over him to prevent the worst of the rain from patting his face.
I probably should have dragged him onto the backseat of the pick-up but I didn’t want to move him and risk doing him further harm.
It was a strangely intimate moment.
It occurred to me even then, while I was perched over his unmoving body.
And I did the strangest thing, without even thinking.
I ran my fingers through his hair and hummed a tune as I rocked him gently back and forth.
No doubt it bubbled up from some deep mothering nature developed over millions of years of evolution.
I used a corner of the damp blanket to wipe the dirt from his face.
I began with his cheeks and forehead, then his nose and chin.
He had a remarkably handsome face beneath the grime.
His chin was a square, his hair thick and long enough to tickle his muscular shoulders.
His eyes fluttered open just once.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said, at a loss for what else to say. “I called an ambulance. They’re on their way.”
The guy’s lips moved but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“What?” I said, leaning closer and pressing my ear to his lips.
“Are you an angel?”
His voice was so soft it tugged at my heart for him to think he was dead.
Falling from such a height and into the lake, and managing to survive it, was nothing short of a miracle.
So if miracles could exist, why not angels?
“No, I’m not an angel,” I said.
“But you are.”
His hand drifted up to my face, and although he barely had the power, his fingers gently stroked me.
He peered into my eyes as I peered into his.
The moment belonged to us, so small and warm and personal, beside this lake and a constant stream of rain drizzling down on us.
The spell was broken only when the ambulance turned up and the man’s eyes fluttered shut.
“No,” I said to the officer, returning to the hospital waiting room. “Nothing else happened.”
The officer could probably tell when someone was lying to him, but he said nothing and tucked his notepad away.
“Is there anyone you would like us to call?” he said. “Or perhaps you would like a lift?”
“Sorry I’m late,” Liam said, hustling over to us.
The other cops nodded respectfully to their sheriff.
Liam ignored them and had eyes only for me.
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
I eyeballed it.
No doubt he did it in a way he thought was comforting but it felt more like he was claiming ownership over me.
His expression was soft and caring in a way I’d never associated with him in the past.
We had a relationship once, long ago.
Back when we were teenagers fooling around in the back seat of his Honda Accord.
One thing never led to another, and his pushy nature ended up shoving me violently away from him.
That, among other things…
I dumped him, and he hung around me for the rest of the school year.
After an endless campaign of calls and texts, I finally confronted him.
“We’re friends,” I told him. “Nothing more.”
He went silent for a good week and I breathed a sigh of relief.
When I next saw him, he greeted me with calm indifference.
Finally, I thought. Peace.
Shortly after that, I left Ashbourne and headed to Portland.
I hadn’t thought about him once in five years.
Not until I returned home.
It came as a shock when he was the first to welcome me at my parent’s home.
All at once, those negative experiences flooded my pre-frontal cortex and my guard was raised.
He flouted his badge like it’d been bestowed by God himself.
He came armed with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates, keen to rekindle whatever relationship might still be possible.
But no relationship was possible.
I’d moved on, grown, and was shocked to see how little he had changed.
He had aged—and aged well—but that same impetuous nature and pinched expression still emerged every time I said or did something he disliked.
He either didn’t realize he did that or had no desire to know he did.
“I hope their questions weren’t too taxing,” he said, grinning at me amiably.
“No, not too difficult,” I said shrugging off his hand.
The two cops shared a glance, aimed pointedly in my direction.
Afraid of being embarrassed at my rebuff, Liam was quick to turn on them.
“Don’t you have some real police work to do?”
Neither of the cops pointed out he had been the one to send them there.
“Yes, sir,” the cops said before shuffling away, no doubt pleased to leave.
It only occurred to me then that the scene somehow felt… staged, as if they’d been given instructions on how to act.
The victorious grin on Liam’s face said it
