"But Mama..." Ella wailed.

Maria sulked next to her and my mother stood behind them, her arms crossed over her chest.

I put my hand to my eyes and sighed. "Look, girls, I'm sorry. I just can't right now."

Ella pouted. "You always say that. You never go swimming with us."

Maria frowned at me and they stomped away to find something else to do. I glanced at my mom.

"What is wrong, Nicola?" she said. "You used to love to swim, but you won't go with the girls. Not once. Even getting you to play games with us seems like such an imposition on your time."

I sighed. I wasn't about to go into my recently developed fear of water, particularly cold water. Not with the girls so close. I wiggled the remaining toes of my right foot in the warm wool socks I wore almost constantly.

Two toes gone, along with my love of swimming. I sighed again, wondering if I could get one of those things back. The thought of getting into the chilly water of the cruise ship while sailing along the Alaskan coastline in October - it was just too much, too fast.

I shook my head. "Maybe we can hang out in the hot tub..." I ventured.

Ella rolled her eyes then went back to setting up the board game. "Grandma, are you playing?"

My mom shot me a dirty look before heading over to the girls. "Of course I am."

I let my shoulders sag as I watched them for a moment, then I turned away and went to lay down. I seemed to do that a lot on this vacation, much to the dismay of my family.

I pulled out my phone and checked my social media for something interesting. Ames and Hound Dog seemed to be doing well, although they weren't available for chatting today. Kaitlyn was busy with a new position in DC, and Joseph was at a conference for media personnel.

I sighed again. The problem with distancing oneself from people to protect yourself and them was that, eventually, you wanted to talk to someone, but they had already gone away. Boredom was the last stage of social dissociation.

I considered writing that down for Dr Walters to analyze when we returned to Indiana. Instead, I rolled onto my stomach and let my thoughts wander yet again.

An alarm jerked me upright, and I blinked, rolling off the bed, confused. The lights were off, replaced by deep red emergency lights. Mom and the girls rushed into the room.

"What the he-heck?" I stuttered.

A voice sounded over the loudspeaker in the hallway. "Attention! Attention! This is a storm warning. Please remain in your rooms and secure all valuables. Staff will be making rounds to ensure you are safe and comfortable while we ride out this storm. Attention! Attention! This is a storm warning. Please remain in your rooms..."

The message repeated itself twice then there was silence.

I clapped my hands together. "Okay! Talk about an adventure!" I said with false enthusiasm. "It's a good thing we weren't swimming, huh? Let's get breakable stuff put down into drawers and things, then we can get back to the board games."

Maria grabbed my arm as the ship lurched. Ella launched herself at me and wrapped her arms around my waist.

"Shh. It's okay, girls," I assured them. "It's just a storm, right? A little wind, a little waves. This is a big ship, and it's made to handle these things."

"Are you sure?" Maria asked in a hoarse voice.

I nodded. "It would take an act of gods to make this situation really dangerous."

Realizing what I'd said, I winced, hoping none of the gods had decided to take my words as a challenge. I peered out the window as the girls packed away toys and knickknacks to keep them from sliding off the furniture onto the floor.

After several hours of the ship being tossed around on waves that got bigger and bigger, we all piled up onto my bed and the girls snoozed in my arms. My mom watched the lightning out the window with growing fear.

"Nicola," she said, breaking the silence forced on us by the muted roar of the storm outside.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I'm sorry I was so hard on you. I'm worried for you, and I don't know what's going on with you anymore."

I sighed. "That makes two of us, Mom."

She opened her mouth to speak again, but a pounding on the door interrupted. She slipped off the bed and staggered across the lurching floor to answer it.

"We are evacuating the ship! Please exit the room and put on your life jackets, then follow this man to your assigned lifeboat! Do you understand these instructions?"

I shook the girls awake and moved to the door, dragging them along by the hand. I glimpsed the woman who had spoken as she moved on to the next room. A frightened-looking crewman stood waiting for us, holding an armful of life vests. Another family stood silently nearby, waiting to be led away by the same man.

I grabbed the life vests, handing one to my mom and helping Ella and Maria into theirs, carefully securing the closures. I slipped my own vest over my arms as I herded the girls out into the hallway. I nodded to the crewman and worked on my own vest closures as we walked quickly up to the deck.

A third family joined us as we lurched up a short flight of steps and out onto the deck. I was promptly hit in the face with a spray of icy water as waves crashed into the sides of the cruise ship. The crewman directed us with barely audible shouts and exaggerated gestures to grab ahold of the ropes strung along the sides of the ship.

I wedged the girls in between my arms and held on with both hands, craning my neck around to be able to see the crewman. Mom grabbed on as well, keeping an eye on the girls.

The crewman spoke with another sailor and then staggered back over to us and the other families. "Time to get on the lifeboat," he shouted over the wind and crashing waves.

I blinked another splash of water out of my eyes and frowned at him. "Why are we abandoning the cruise ship?" I demanded. "Those little boats can't be safer-"

The man glanced at the other adults who stared at him, waiting to hear his response. "Did you ever see the Titanic?" he said, finally.

I swallowed, ready to laugh off the joke, but the man's grim expression told me it wasn't an attempt at humor. The cruise ship was going down and we had to get off of it.

I blinked again, not sure if it was sea water or tears this time. The lump in my throat and fear lodged in my gut didn't help clear that up. I nodded to the man and we moved along the flimsy rope the other sailor had strung up from where we clung to the side of the ship to the lifeboat.

He helped the first family get into the boat, then the girls and Mom were next. Before I could get my feet on the steps, the ship lurched and I fell to the deck. One of the kids, a young boy of maybe five years, tumbled several yards away. The mother shrieked, reaching after him, but too afraid to let go of the rope.

I glanced at her husband, who held her and their other child tightly, and the crewmen, who were busy keeping others on their feet and safe.

"Shit!" I yelled into the wind, and I marine-crawled towards the child as he wailed.

I barely reached him, hooking a couple fingers around a loop on his life vest, when a huge wave crashed over the deck. I felt the cold water all around me and I fought the urge to scream.

A hard object banged into my legs, and despite my panic, I wrapped my legs around it, locking my ankles together. The wave receded and I found myself wedged in the railing of the deck with my calves locked around one of the supports. My numb fingers were entangled with the nylon cord of a life vest, and the child in it flailed his arms as he dangled halfway over the edge.

I grabbed his arm as it moved past my face and pulled him back up on the deck, rolling as best as I could. I unwrapped the cord from my fingers and rewrapped it around my right hand, then marine-crawled on my left side to the wall of the ship.

I grabbed hold of the rope and pulled us both up, hefting the boy and yelling at him to hold on. His arms squeezed my neck, but I ignored it to hold the rope with both hands. We made our way back to the lifeboat, shivering in soaked clothing.

A bare yard from the boat, the rope ended, having pulled loose in a section. I looked across the space, frustrated. With the waves, it was too much of a risk to try to walk across the deck without something to anchor us. The crewman stared at me, seeing the problem and obviously equally frustrated that he could not help us.

The frustration and anger seeped into my mind and I felt the familiar tingle as yellow washed over my vision. I nodded to myself and looked over at the crewman. One good jump, I thought.

I held the boy with one arm, gripping the rope with my other hand. I let myself feel the roll of the ship on the waves, waiting for my cat instincts to take over.

Then I jumped.