Heroes Are My Weakness: A Novel

She’d pulled a fresh top and a clean pair of shorts from her suitcase, fluffed her hair, dabbed on some lip gloss, and slipped out of the house.

He wasn’t on the beach, but she hadn’t really expected to see him there. They always met by a small, sandy area toward the back where there was a tidal pool to poke around in.

He was wrong about the tide. It was coming in strong. But they’d been in the cave before when the tide shifted, and there was no danger of being trapped. Even though the water was deeper at the back of the cave, they had no trouble swimming out.

Cold seawater soaked her sneakers and splashed her bare legs as she scrambled over the rocks to the entrance. When she got there, she turned on the small pink flashlight she’d brought down with her. “Theo?” Her voice echoed around the rocky chamber.

He didn’t answer.

A wave splashed her knees. Disappointed, she was about to turn back when she heard it. Not his response, but the frantic yips of the pups.

Her first thought was that Theo had brought them down so they could play with them. “Theo?” she called for him again, and when he didn’t answer, she moved deeper into the cave, searching it with the flashlight she’d brought with her.

The sandy crescent in the back near where she and Theo used to make out was underwater. The waves lapped at the ledge just above. On that ledge sat a cardboard box, and from inside the box came the sounds she was hearing.

“Theo!” She got a sick feeling in her stomach, a feeling that grew worse when he didn’t respond. She began wading toward the back of the cave until the rising water was at her waist.

The ledge was cut into the rock wall a few inches over her head. The old cardboard box was already getting soaked from the spray. If she tried to pull it off the ledge, the bottom would drop out and the pups would fall in the water. But she couldn’t leave them here. In no time at all, the waves would sweep the box away.

Theo, what have you done?

She couldn’t think about that, not with the pups’ yips growing more frantic. She felt along the cave wall with the toe of her sneaker until she found a niche to use as a step. She pulled herself up and shone the flashlight into the box. All six of the pups were there, yipping, terrified, scampering frenetically on a scrap of brown towel already soggy with seawater. She set the flashlight on the ledge, grabbed two of them, and tried to secure them against her chest so she could step down. Their sharp claws scratched her through her T-shirt, and she lost her grip. With terrified yelps, both pups tumbled back into the box.

She’d have to take them out one at a time. She snatched up the biggest and stepped off the ledge, wincing as his claws dug into her arm. So easy to swim out of the cave. So hard to wade through the swirling water with a struggling puppy in her arms.

She dragged herself toward the fading light at the cave opening. The water sucked at her legs. The pup was frantic, and its claws hurt. “Please be still. Please, please . . .”

By the time she reached the mouth of the cave, the scratches on her arm had begun to bleed, and five more pups were still inside. But before she could go back for any of them, she had to find someplace safe to put this one. She stumbled across the rocks toward their fire circle.

The pit held the ashes of last week’s fire, but the inside was dry, and the stones around the perimeter were high enough to keep the pup from getting out. She set it down, raced to the cave, and rushed back inside. She’d never stayed in there long enough to see how high the tide reached, but the water was still rising. As the cave floor sloped down, she began to swim. Even though it was summer, the water was icy. Her hands touched the wall, and she found her foothold under the ledge. Shivering, she reached into the box for the second pup and winced when a new set of claws scored her skin.

She managed to get this pup safely to the fire pit, but the water was growing deeper, and she had to struggle to reach the back of the cave for the third one. The flashlight she’d left on the ledge had grown dimmer, but she could see enough to tell that the cardboard box was close to collapsing. She’d never get them all out in time. But she had to.

She lifted the third pup and stepped off the ledge. A wave caught her, the dog struggled, and she lost her grip. It slipped into the water.

With a sob, she plunged her arms into the churning salt water and reached frantically around for the small body. She felt something and snatched the pup up.

The undertow dragged at her as she tried to wade toward the fading light at the mouth of the cave. She was having trouble breathing. The pup had stopped struggling, and she didn’t know if it was dead or alive until she placed it in the fire pit and saw it move.

Three more. She couldn’t go back in yet. She had to rest. But if she did, the animals would drown.

The undertow was growing stronger instead of weaker, and the water was rising higher. She lost a sneaker somewhere and kicked off the other. Every breath was a struggle, and by the time she reached the water-sodden box, she’d gone under twice. The second time, she swallowed so much salt water, she was still choking when she climbed up.

Before she could grab hold of the fourth pup, a wave knocked her back. She found her footing and climbed again, gasping for breath. She made a wild grab and pulled out another pup. The pain from the scratches on her arms and chest, the fire in her lungs, were excruciating. Her legs were giving out, and her muscles screamed for her to stop. A wave pulled her feet out from under her, and she and the pup were swamped, but somehow she managed to hold on. She tried to cough out the water she’d swallowed. The muscles in her arms and legs burned. Somehow she reached the fire pit.

Two more . . .

If she’d been thinking clearly, she would have stopped, but she was acting on instinct. Her entire life had led to this moment when her only purpose was to save the pups. She fell on the rocks as she scrambled back to the cave, and a long gash opened on her calf. She staggered inside. An icy wave pushed her down. She struggled to swim.

Only the faintest glow came from the flashlight on the ledge. The wet cardboard box sagged precariously. Her knee scraped the rock as she pulled herself up.

Two pups. She couldn’t do this twice. She had to get them both out. She tried to pick them up together but couldn’t make her hands work. Her foot slipped again, and again she fell back in the water. Gasping, she fought her way to the surface, but she was choking and disoriented. She barely managed to hoist herself up to the ledge again. She reached inside.

Only one. She could only save one.

Her fingers closed around wet fur. With a wrenching sob, she took the pup and started to swim only to discover that her legs wouldn’t move. She tried to get them under her so she could stand, but the undertow was too strong. And then, in the dim light coming from outside, she saw the monster wave barreling toward the cave. Rising higher and higher still. Scudding inside, engulfing her, and throwing her against the rocky cave wall. She twisted and tumbled, her arms flailing, knowing she was drowning.

A hand pulled at her. She fought, struggled. The arms were strong. Insistent. They dragged at her until she felt clean air on her face.

Theo.

It wasn’t Theo. It was Jaycie. “Stop fighting!” the girl cried.

“The dogs . . .” Annie gasped. “There’s another—” She ran out of oxygen.

Another wave crashed over them. Jaycie’s grip stayed firm. She dragged Annie and the pup against the current and out of the cave.

When they reached the rocks, Annie collapsed, but Jaycie didn’t. As Annie struggled to sit up, her rescuer rushed back to the cave. It didn’t take her long to return carrying a wet, wriggling puppy.

Annie was dimly aware of the blood streaming from the gash in her calf, of her scratched arms, and the stains blooming like crimson roses through her T-shirt. She heard the dogs’ yips coming from the fire pit, but the sound brought her no pleasure.

Jaycie hovered over the pit, the pup she’d rescued still in her arms. Annie slowly absorbed the fact that Jaycie had saved her life, and through her chattering teeth she mustered a ragged “Thank you.”

Jaycie shrugged. “I guess you should thank my old man for getting drunk. I had to get out.”

“Annie! Annie, are you down there?”

It was too dark to see, but Annie had no trouble recognizing Regan’s voice. “She’s here,” Jaycie called up when Annie couldn’t answer.

Regan scampered down the shallow stone steps and rushed to Annie. “Are you all right? Please don’t tell my dad. Please!”

Anger coursed through Annie. She came to her feet as Regan hurried to the puppies. She lifted one to her cheek and started to cry. “You can’t tell, Annie.”

All the emotions Annie had suppressed exploded inside her. She left the pups, left Regan and Jaycie, and climbed awkwardly over the rocks to the cliff stairs. Her legs were still weak, she was shivering, and she had to grip the rope handrail to pull herself up.

The lights were still on around the deserted swimming pool. Annie’s pain and fury gave her legs fresh strength. She rushed across the lawn and into the house. She flew up the stairs, her feet pounding on the treads.

Theo’s room was toward the back, next to his sister’s. She flung open the door. He lay on his bed, reading. The sight of her, with her matted hair, bloody scratches, and gashed calf brought him to his feet.

There were always bits of riding gear lying around his bedroom. She didn’t consciously snatch up the riding crop, but a force she couldn’t control had taken over. The crop was in her hand, and she was rushing toward him. He stood there, not moving, almost as if he knew what was coming. She brought up her arm and swung the crop at him as hard as she could. It caught the side of his face and split the thin skin over his brow bone.

“Annie!” Her mother, drawn by the noise, raced into the room with Elliott right behind. Elliott wore his customary starched long-sleeved blue dress shirt while her mother wore a narrow black caftan and long silver earrings. Mariah gasped as she saw the blood streaming down Theo’s face and then Annie’s condition. “My God . . .”

“He’s a monster!” Annie cried.

“Annie, you’re hysterical,” Elliott proclaimed, hurrying to his son.

“The dogs nearly died because of you!” she screamed. “Are you sorry they didn’t? Are you sorry they’re still alive?” Tears streaming down her face, she lunged at him again, but Elliott twisted the riding crop from her grasp. “Stop it!”

“Annie, what happened?” Her mother was staring at her as if she no longer recognized her.

Annie poured out the story. As Theo stood there, his eyes on the floor, blood running from the cut, she told them everything—about the note he’d written, the pups. She told them how he’d locked her in the dumbwaiter and set the birds on her at the boat wreck. How he’d pushed her into the marsh. The words rushed out of her in a torrent.

“Annie, you should have told me all this earlier.” Mariah pulled her daughter from the room, leaving Elliott to stanch the flow of blood from his son’s wound.

Both the gash in Annie’s calf and the cut in Theo’s forehead needed stitches, but there was no doctor on the island and simple bandages had to do. This left each of them with a permanent scar—Theo’s small, almost rakish, Annie’s longer but eventually fading more than the memory ever could.

Later that night, after the puppies were resettled in the stable with their mother and everyone had gone to bed, Annie was still awake, listening to the faintest sound of voices coming from the adults’ bedroom. They were speaking too softly for her to hear, so she crept out into the hallway to eavesdrop.

“Face facts, Elliott,” she heard her mother say. “There’s something seriously wrong with your son. A normal kid doesn’t do things like this.”

“He needs discipline, that’s all,” Elliott had retorted. “I’m finding a military school for him. No more coddling.”

Her mother didn’t relent. “He doesn’t need a military school. He needs a psychiatrist!”

“Stop exaggerating. You always exaggerate, and I hate it.”

The argument gathered steam, and Annie cried herself to sleep.