Free The Immortelles by Gilbert Morris Page A

She laid her cheek against the rough surface of the board and waited. The roar became louder, and they seemed to move faster.
    â€œHere it comes.”
    Damita grew tense, and then she felt the plank begin to turn. “Let go!” Yancy yelled. She released her grasp, and he plucked her up and pulled her off to one side. As the board turned over, it struck her left foot, but she had no time to think of that pain, for her head had gone underwater again. She held her breath as best she could. She remembered that Yancy had said not to fight, and it took all of her strength to keep from grabbing at him. He turned her around as if she were a child, his arm went around her chest, and just as she could hold her breath no longer, they both rose above the surface. He did not speak, but she could feel his powerful strokes.
    Finally, he yelled, “My feet hit bottom. We’re all right.” He stood up, his chest above the waves.
    Damita’s feet touched sand, and she cried out, “I feel it!” She waded out as he half-carried her. The wind tore at them as it raced across the beach. Damita trembled from the cold.
    Yancy leaned forward and said in her ear, “We’ve got to get out of this wind. Let’s make for those trees.”
    The two pressed against the wind and hurried across the beach to a line of trees. As soon as they stepped
inside their comforting cover, the wind seemed to mitigate, but Damita was shaking so violently she could hardly stand. Yancy held her and said, “Come on. We’ll try to find some shelter. There must be something.”
    The two stumbled along through the trees, Yancy’s left arm supporting Damita. She would have fallen more than once, but he pulled her up, saying, “Come on. We can make it. You’re doing fine.”
    Fatigue came then like a blow, and Damita did not think she could lift her feet another step, but Yancy kept pulling her forward. He finally stopped. “Look, here’s a road. There’s got to be something down it. Come on.” The sound of the crashing breakers grew fainter. A hundred yards later, Yancy said, “Look, there’s something there.”
    Damita could see only the vague shadow of a tall vertical object. “What is that?”
    â€œIt’s an old chimney. There was a house here, but it’s burned.” Then he cried out, “A barn! We can at least get out of the wind.”
    Damita felt new strength. The barn was small, but at least it had a roof. When they had reached it, Yancy opened the door and looked inside. It was practically pitch black. A couple of small holes in the walls of the old structure admitted only faint, grayish light. Yancy said, “Stand here a minute. Let me feel my way around.”
    Shaking as she never had in her life, Damita waited. She rubbed her arms together, but her fingers were numb with the cold. The coat she wore was, of course, soaked, and she felt encased in an icy embrace.
    â€œHere, we’re in luck.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œThere’s a lot of old hay here, and we can get under it. It’ll help some. First, take off your clothes and wring them out. They’ll never dry out like that.”
    â€œTake off my clothes?”
    â€œYes. I’m going to do the same.” Yancy walked a few steps away, faced the opposite wall, and began removing his shirt.
    Damita hesitated only an instant, then she pulled off the coat and quickly stripped down to her undergarments. She wrung out her dress, but the coat was too heavy. She put on her clothes, so cold and clammy that she shuddered beneath them.
    â€œAre you dressed?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHere, come over here.”
    â€œI couldn’t wring the water out of this coat.”
    â€œLet me try.” Yancy did his best with the sopping garment. “Here, lie down.” Damita felt her way past him, and when her feet crunched on the old hay underfoot, she lay down, and he