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the back stairs, her feet slapping against the smooth wood of the steps. Down, down, down she ran, breathless, one hand on the rail. Noah, oh sweet, sweet baby. Noah!
    She burst from the stairway into the kitchen, then through the back door off the kitchen, across the screened porch, and out to the sweeping grounds of the house and beyond.
    Now she could run. Fast. Even though night was falling swiftly.
    â€œNoah!” she yelled as she sped along the weed-choked pathways, past the deadened rosebushes and through the dripping ferns to the dock where darkness and fog had disguised the end of the pier. She was breathing hard, screaming her son’s name, desperate to see him, to witness his little face turn around and look up at her, his wide, expectant eyes trusting . . .
    The dock was empty. Fog playing in the shadows of the water, seagulls crying hollowly in the distance.
    â€œNoah!” she screamed, running over the slick boards. “Noah!”
    She’d seen him! She had!
    Oh, honey . . . “Noah, where are you?” she said over a sob and the rush of the wind as she reached the end, the last board cutting into her feet. “Baby, it’s Mama . . .”
    One last, wild search of the dock and boathouse told her he was gone. She didn’t hesitate but jumped into the icy water, feeling the rush of frigid cold, tasting salt water as she splashed and flailed, frantically searching for her son in the dark depths. “Noah!” she yelled, coughing and sputtering as she surfaced. She dived back down into the black water again and again, searching the murky depths, desperately hoping for some glimpse of her son.
    Please, God, let me find him. Help me save him! Do not let him die! He’s an innocent. It’s I who am the sinner. Oh, dear Jesus, please . . .
    Again and again, she dove, five times, six, seven, her nightgown billowing around her, her hair loosened from its rubber band, exhaustion overtaking her as she drifted farther and farther from the dock. As she surfaced slowly one more time, she was vaguely aware of a voice.
    â€œHey!” a man yelled. “Hey!”
    She dove down again, her hair floating around her, her eyes open and burning in the salty water, her lungs so stretched she thought they might burst. Where is he? Noah, oh, God, baby . . . She couldn’t breathe, but she couldn’t stop searching. Had to find her son. The world grew darker and colder, and Noah grew ever more distant.
    Someone dived in next to her.
    She felt strong arms surround her rib cage in a death grip. She was weak, about to pass out, when she was jerked upward, roughly dragged toward the surface, a ripple of air escaping her lungs.
    As they broke through the water, she gasped, coughing and spewing as she found herself staring into the stern, uncompromising gaze of a total stranger.
    â€œAre you out of your mind?” he demanded, slinging the water from his hair with a muscular twist. But before she could answer, he snarled, “Oh, hell!” and starting kicking hard, holding her tightly, dragging her to the shore. She’d drifted away from the dock, but his strokes, strong and sure, cut through the water and pulled them both to the sandy beach, where he deposited her in the waist-high water. “Come on!” he snapped. His arm steadied her as they slogged through the lapping water and up the sandy shoreline Her teeth were chattering, and she was shivering head to toe, but she barely felt anything other than a deep-seated and painful grief. Swallowing against the pain, she tasted salt and finally roused herself enough to look at this man she’d never met before.
    Or had she? There was something remotely familiar about him. Over six feet tall, in a wet, long-sleeved shirt and soaked jeans, he was rugged-looking, as if he’d spent most of his thirty-odd years outdoors.
    â€œWhat the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “You