LOVE AT SEA LEVEL
Chapter One
Red rose petals were everywhere, scattered across the pavement, like large drops of blood. That’s what it could have been, lots of it, had Laura not come running through the alley when she did.
Jasper Beach was not a dangerous neighborhood—mostly upper middle class—a mixed bag of families, young professionals, and saltwater lifers who would never dream of living anywhere but in a fifties beach cottage. So, when Rachel went out back with cuttings several times a day, even after dark, she was never afraid. In fact, when saw someone approaching, she didn’t give him a second thought, until she saw a steel blade coming at her throat.
The mélange of flowers haphazardly strewn across the alley was what caught Laura’s attention. Like spilled potpourri. And, as she slowed to pick up one of the roses, she heard the struggle.
She ran behind the white Van with the Blooms logo on it and saw a young woman on the ground, her legs spread, her arms stiff at her side. The attacker was on top, pressing the knife against her neck, his free hand clamped over her mouth. The woman’s pleading eyes stared up at her.
Laura screamed in anger and grabbed the first thing she saw, a rusted metal bucket. Without much thought, she relentlessly beat the attacker over the head with it, then across his face. Now up on his knees, holding his hand to his bloody face, she could see he was young, maybe fifteen.
Neighbors from the apartment building, adjacent to the florist shop, began to appear. The teenage boy, stunned by the blow, struggled to get up, then turned and quickly ran away.
The dazed victim propped herself against the gate. She seemed unaware that her upper arm had been sliced in the scuffle. A crowd gathered. A man called 911.
Laura quickly shed her sweatshirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound, tourniquet-style.
“What’s your name?” Laura asked.
She spoke in the tone of a lost child. “Rachel.”
“I’m Laura. You’re going to be okay, Rachel. You’re safe now.”
Laura and this stunning stranger sat side-by-side as the last, pale glimmer of daylight disappeared between the buildings. Laura instinctively placed her hand on Rachel’s forearm, reassuring her as they waited for the ambulance. And when she noticed the dark red liquid seeping through the fleece, Laura feared the shivering Rachel was losing too much blood. She hoped the ambulance was just minutes away.
“Can someone get a blanket?” Laura cried. Then she turned again toward Rachel. “Who do you need to call?”
“My husband.” Her voice was weak. Laura struggled to hear her. “My phone . . .” she said, her eyes searching.
“I have mine. Can you give me the number?” Laura listened carefully, pressed the call dot, and handed the phone to Rachel. She was struggling with the details. The phone fell from her ear.
Laura picked it up and fired out the necessary information. “Hello there, I found your wife in the alley.” The ambulance siren was getting close. “First of all, she’s okay. The paramedics are almost here. She’s going to be fine, a cut on her arm, but it’s bad and needs stitches. They’ll likely take her to Jasper Memorial. Can you meet her there?”
“You’re who?”
Laura paused for a moment; this had to be coming as quite a shock. “A friend. Your wife. Can you meet her there?”
“Yes, yes, of course, but . . .”
“I’m sorry, I need to go now. They’re here and they’ll have questions. She’ll be fine. Jasper Memorial, unless you hear otherwise.”