“Nothing like fishing to take the stress away, huh Amber?” Dad asks me with a wink.  He loves taking our fishing boat out onto Lake Castaic.  I also go to summer camp here, where I go canoeing, water skiing, and train to be a Junior Lifeguard.

 

I smile and nod, but my heart isn’t in it.  My friends are meeting at the movies today, and I have to miss out.  But how can I say no to my dad, when he asks to spend the day with me?  Since Mom died two years ago, it’s just been Dad and I relying on each other.  I know how much he misses her.

 

I lazily throw my line out, hoping the fish aren’t interested in my slimy worm.  Last time we went fishing Dad said, “I think it’s about time you began cleaning your own fish.”  Just thinking about it makes my breakfast creep back up my throat.  

 

My weighted bait plops into the cool green water.  I lean back and close my heavy eyes.  We were on the lake so early this morning, the mist still hugged the water.  Maybe the fish will do me a favor and sleep in today.  I hear the whirl of Dad’s line as he throws it out.

 

Clunk! My eyes fly open as something heavy falls beside me.  Dad!  He’s lying on the floor of the boat.  His face is scarlet, his jaw clenched.  As I reach toward him, he clutches his chest.  Then his body goes slack.    

 

“Dad!” I yell, shaking him.  Nothing.  Is he dead?  No!  He can’t be.  “Please, somebody help me!”  But there’s no one there.    

 

 My hand shakes as I flip open my cell phone.  No dial tone between the canyon walls of the lake.  What should I do?

 

I hear the distant drone of another fishing boat as it zooms past us.  I wave my arms in distress, but the driver doesn’t notice me.  The marina is far away, and I realize I must help Dad on my own.

 

I’ve been taught CPR at summer camp.  Why didn’t I pay more attention in class?  I push Dad onto his back, tilt his head a little, then place my stacked hands over his heart.  Please don’t die Dad!

 

Is it 15 hand compressions, then 3 breaths of air?  I can’t remember, but I know that doing it wrong must be better than doing nothing at all.  I begin the compressions, then bend to puff air into Dad’s mouth.  It’s not working!  

 

I start to cry as I pump Dad’s heart, willing it to start again.  “One, two, three...,” I count.  Why do I ignore him sometimes, like he doesn’t matter?  “Dad don’t leave me!  Where would I go and what would I do?”  The idea is so terrifying I find new strength.  I pump his heart so hard I feel as if I might crack his ribs into a million pieces.  I breathe air into him with such force, it bounces off him and back into me.  I realize then that Dad has started breathing again.

 

“Dad, are you okay?”  He doesn’t answer.  I  place my cheek against his mouth, and with relief, feel a faint breath of air.

 

He needs medical help, fast.  I pull our anchor, then jump into the driver’s seat of the boat.  I’m thankful now for the times Dad sat me in front of him, letting me drive as we cruised around the lake.  I throttle forward, causing our fishing gear to scatter across the floor of the boat.  I glance back at Dad, and he looks like he’s in pain.  We’re practically flying over the water now, and  I fear our boat will splinter apart, leaving us stranded.  Determined, I continue on.

 

“My dad needs help! Call an ambulance!” I yell as we get close to the marina.  Fellow fishermen hear me and run to the end of the dock, grabbing the boat as it slams against the pylons.  They take over from there, some tying off the boat while others run to the tiny marina store to use the phone.  

 

In a daze, I’m loaded into the helicopter with Dad.  I watch paramedics hook him up to strange machines as we fly toward the nearest emergency room. 

 

In the waiting room at the hospital, a sympathetic nurse sits down beside me. 

 

“How’s my dad?” I ask her.

 

“We think he’ll be just fine.  Would you like to see him now?”

 

I nod, and she guides me to his room.  He’s lying in bed, surrounded by cables and tubes.  I’m relieved when Dad opens his eyes.  I run to him and squeeze him tight.

 

“I was so scared Dad.  What happened to you?”

 

“They tell me I had a heart attack, but I’ll fully recover.  Do you know what else they told me?”

 

“What?”

 

“That you saved my life, Amber. You were brave, strong, and a quick thinker.  If I had been alone out there, things might have ended differently.”  He tucks my wind blown hair behind my ear.  “You’re my hero,” he tells me, his voice thick with tears.

 

“Thanks Dad.  I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.  Let’s not have this much action on our next fishing trip okay?”

 

“You’ve got a deal.  I’ll even clean your fish.”

 

I smile and snuggle up beside him, like I used to do when I was little.  I place my hand on his beating heart, and feel comfort in it’s steady thump, thump.  

 

Going out with friends?  That’s a lot of fun for sure.  But after a day like today, hanging out with Dad is where my heart is.

 

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