21. Eleanor Margaret Bie #2
“I didn’t want to tell you about something that might or might not work out. I didn’t want to get your hopes up and let you maybe get hurt again later.”
She is quiet long enough that I check her focus again.
“I get that,” she says at last. “But Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore. You’ve always said honesty is important. That can be about how your heart feels too.”
“Okay, whatever is going to happen, I’ll talk to you about it first.”
“Deal.” And she holds out her hand and we pinky swear on it.
“Does Annie like you?”
“I don’t know. I think she does.” Ellie’s face wrinkles up. “What?”
“I hate that I heard it from him.”
“I know. But right now, I need to try and figure out how I’m getting you out of here.
“Dad.”
“Yes, Kiddo?”
“I’m sorry I broke our honesty too.”
“El?”
“I got scared and ran instead of coming to you to talk about it.”
“I understand.”
“I came here to try and be close to mom. To figure things out.” Her breath catches and she reaches to the bump on her head.
I check on it. “You hit your head pretty good, El.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you throw up?”
“No.”
“Did you fall asleep?”
“No, Mom told me I couldn’t.”
My hand pauses.
Ellie looks up at me. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“That I only saw her because I whacked my head.”
I look at her, seriously.
“She told me to stay awake. She said you were coming.”
I don’t tell her that head injuries can blur dreams, memory, fear, and time. I don’t take Beth away from her in the place Beth gave her strength.
“She was right,” I say.
Ellie studies me. “You believe me?”
“I do.”
“She said my eyes were hers, and that half of my heart was hers and that she put her fingerprints all over me, so I’ll have her always.”
I catch a quick breath. That cannot be. Beth always talked to the baby when she was pregnant, and every day told her at least once she was making her and putting her fingerprints all over her so she would know she was hers. It has to be an in utero memory.
Right?
No matter how, the ache for Beth hits me hard.
Ellie settles against me as much as she can. “I don’t want you to be alone forever.”
I look at our daughter, hurt and cold and still caring. I clear my throat and answer. “You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart.”
“I know. I’m just saying.” She blinks slowly. Too slowly. “I don’t want Annie to go away if she likes us.”
I put my fingers back over her pulse to check her vitals again. She notices and frowns.
“Am I bad?”
“No El. You’re injured.”
“That’s different?”
“Very.”
She accepts that with a small breath and closes her eyes until I tell her to open them again.
Red light flashes through the water.
I turn toward the opening. Another flash follows, then muffled voices. I can’t make out the words through the falls, but I know the rhythm of responders moving with purpose.
“Rescue is here.”
Ellie’s hand grips my jacket. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
I make sure the blanket stays around her. “Watch.”
I move up onto my knees and turn my flashlight lens to red. I point it toward the water and sweep the flashlight side to side through the water. A beam answers from below and I start to hear shouting.
They know we’re here. I sink back and thank the good Lord, and evidently my wife, for giving me more time with Ellie.
I turn back to Ellie. “They’re coming. It’s going to take them a little time. So don’t start thinking we’re out of this yet.”
“I want to go home.”
“I want that too Kiddo, but you’re going to the hospital first.”
“No.”
Helmet lights appear through the spray. A paramedic peers in, clipped onto a rappel line, moving with care.
“Doc.”
I give t
he report. “Head injury with likely loss of consciousness, scalp laceration at the forehead and temple, left knee swelling and pain, right wrist and forearm pain, cold exposure, unknown time down. She is conscious now but has been drifting.”
“Thanks, Doc. We’ve got her.”
“I’m staying.”
The firefighter looks at the space and then at me. “All due respect, sir we need to extract you first, so we have room to get her ready for that extraction.”
“I can help.”
“Doc. You’re thinking like a dad right now. That’s not helpful. She’s already been out here in the elements for hours. Let us do our job so we can get you and your girl out of here. Safely and as quickly as possible.”
Dear god, I hear every word and I know he’s right. But, I cannot imagine leaving this cave without her.
“You’re right. My apologies.”
“No. Daddy, you can’t leave me.”
I lean down beside her and take her face in my hands. “You are not being left. You are being rescued. I would never leave you Ellie. Never. These guys are just going to give me a ride first. Understand?”
“Swear?”
I hold out my pinky again. “I swear.”
She searches my face, and I hold the look. No softening it. No pretending this is less than it is.
“I’ll be waiting for you on the ground, my love,” I say. “You do what they tell you.”
The paramedic explains each step to Ellie before I leave and I give my nod of approval to her. One of the firefighters glances at me and I nod. They start hooking me up into the harness to pull me up and out.
I look at her one more time, and squeeze her hand. “I love you with all of my heart Eleanor Margaret Bie.”
She lets out a tired laugh . “Mom used all my names tonight too.”
With that, they give a tug on the line and I’m being hoisted out of the cave and the rescuer holding me starts our rappel down. As soon as I hit the deck the paramedics are on me. I wave them off and stand and watch, waiting for Ellie.
Beth, honey, stay with her a little longer tonight, please?
They angle her through the wet opening. My heart stays in my mouth watching all of it. The descent feels like it takes hours. Lines moving. Boots finding holds. Orders passing from one responder to the next.
And then she’s safely back on the ground. I finally take the breath that I think I was holding the entire time.
Things move quickly as they start carrying her out to the ambulance waiting beyond the trail access. I stay at her side, where she can see me.
“I’m here.”
The ambulance doors open as they begin to load Ellie in, and I forward to follow.
A hand lands on my shoulder and turns me around.
Sheriff Alvarez stands there with rain dripping from his hat and his face set hard.
“Doc, I’m glad she’s safe. Truly, I am. But if you ever pull a stunt like this again, running blindly into something with no backup, I’ll arrest you, on the spot.
I don’t give a shit what the circumstances are. Am I clear?”
“Crystal, sheriff.” I take his hand and place my other hand over it. “And I’m sorry.”
“Get going and get your girl to the hospital.”
He starts to walk away and I call after him. “How did you know to come out here?” I ask. Alvarez looks past me toward the trail, then back. “The guy told me just to say, Admiral.”
I climb into the ambulance and sit where I can hold her hand without getting in the way. Ellie’s strapped in, wrapped, monitored, and has her eyes closed.
“We gave her something for the pain, Doc.”
“Thanks.”
The doors close. The ambulance starts toward Whidbey Health Medical Center.
I kiss her hands and close my eyes. Again, my brothers rescued us. Knew I was heading to the waterfall and knew that I was overdue calling them.
I saw the waterfall and did exactly what I would have warned any other father not to do.
Relief doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t clean up Ian’s words, or Annie’s fear, or mend the honesty promise I abused with Ellie.
But, I have her hand in mine.
I get another chance.