Chapter Twenty
Angela floated in a strange, muffled haze. Voices swirled around her, distant and distorted, like they were coming from the bottom of a deep well.
She tried to focus on them, to grasp onto the words, but they slipped through her mind like water through her fingers.
Everything hurt. Her chest felt tight, like an iron band was wrapped around it, squeezing the life out of her. Her lungs burned, each shallow breath a struggle that made her throat ache. The taste of river water lingered on her tongue—bitter, muddy, suffocating.
“Angela?”
The voice broke through, sharp and clear, pulling her closer to the surface of her muddled awareness. She tried to respond, to move, but her body felt heavy and uncooperative, like it wasn’t hers to command.
Then, suddenly, she was coughing—deep, wracking coughs that sent a sharp pain through her chest but brought air flooding into her lungs. Water spilled from her mouth, dribbling down her chin as she gasped for breath, the cool air shocking her as it rushed in.
“Easy,” the same voice said, low and steady, filled with both relief and urgency.
She blinked, her vision blurry, and saw James crouched beside her, his face tight with worry. His hands were firm but careful as they steadied her, supporting her back as she tried to sit up.
“You’re all right,” he said, though his tone held a rawness that told her he wasn’t entirely sure.
Angela shivered violently, her body trembling as the chill of the river seeped into her bones. She realized then that she was lying on the riverbank, the gritty dirt rough beneath her hands.
People were gathered around her, their voices overlapping as they murmured questions and prayers, but their faces came in and out of focus like a flickering lantern.
“Rachel?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“She’s fine,” James said quickly. “She’s safe.”
Relief washed over Angela, but it was fleeting. Her chest heaved with another cough, and she winced at the sharp pain that followed. Her lungs felt like stones, heavy and immovable, each breath a laborious effort. The world around her felt muted, like she was viewing it through a fog.
Then, James turned away from her.
“What were you thinking, Rachel?” he barked, his voice, low and sharp, cut through the air like a whip.
Rachel stood a few steps away, dripping wet and shivering, her usually fiery expression dimmed with exhaustion and guilt.
“You had clear instructions,” James said, striding toward her. “I told everyone to stay put until I said otherwise. You could’ve gotten yourself killed—and you almost got Angela killed, too.”
Rachel straightened her back, though her hands trembled. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“Then what were you trying to do?” James interrupted, his voice rising slightly.
His eyes blazed, a mixture of frustration and worry.
Angela could see Rachel falter under his glare, her lips pressing together before she spoke again.
“I—I was trying to help,” she said, her voice wavering but firm. “I thought if I could make it across, then you’d know it was safe. We’ve already lost so much time, James. Every day we’re stuck here is another day closer to winter. I thought…”
She trailed off, her shoulders sagging as her confidence crumbled.
“You thought?” James echoed, his tone incredulous. “You thought risking your life and the lives of everyone else here was the right thing to do?”
Rachel’s face flushed, her eyes darting to the ground.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” she admitted. “I just—I wanted to make things easier for everyone.”
James shook his head, his jaw tightening.
“You don’t make things easier by ignoring orders and putting yourself in danger. You make things harder—for me, for the group, and for the people who have to risk their lives to save you.”
He gestured toward Angela, who winced at the mention.
“Stop,” Angela croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
James turned to her, his expression softening slightly. “Angela, you need to rest.”
She shook her head weakly, her chest tightening with another cough. “Stop yelling at her,” she managed, her voice hoarse.
James hesitated, his mouth opening as if to argue, but Angela’s gaze held firm despite the exhaustion pulling at her.
“She was trying to help,” Angela said, her voice cracking. “It wasn’t smart, but her heart was in the right place.”
Rachel stepped closer, her face pale and drawn. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, Angela. I swear I didn’t.”
Angela offered her a faint, tired smile. “I know,” she said softly.
James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair as he turned away for a moment.
“This isn’t just about you, Rachel,” he said. “Out here, one mistake can cost lives. Good intentions don’t matter if they get people killed.”
Rachel nodded, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I understand,” she said quietly.
Angela wanted to say more, to diffuse the tension that still lingered, but her body refused to cooperate. Her vision blurred, and her head slumped against the side of the wagon as another wave of exhaustion washed over her.
James was at her side in an instant, his hands steadying her as she swayed.
“You’re freezing,” James said, his brow furrowed as he stripped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
The warmth was a small mercy, but it couldn’t stop the shivering that wracked her body. Her teeth chattered as her head lolled to the side, catching glimpses of the concerned faces surrounding her.
Rosie kneeled nearby, her hand clasped over her mouth, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Toby stood a little farther back, his expression grave as he exchanged quiet words with Minister Sam.
Just then, someone pressed a blanket around her shoulders, but Angela barely registered it. The world was tilting and fading, her thoughts drifting in and out like the ebb and flow of the river.
“Stay with me, Angela,” James urged, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
She forced her eyes open again, if only for a moment, her gaze meeting his. There was something in his expression that she couldn’t quite name—a mixture of anger, relief, and something deeper, something more vulnerable.
***
Angela blinked, her eyes fluttering open to the soft, warm hues of dusk. The sky above her was streaked with shades of orange and deep purple, the first stars faintly visible in the encroaching night. Her head throbbed, her body felt leaden, and her lungs burned with each shallow breath.
She was lying on her bedroll, the familiar roughness of the fabric grounding her in a way that made her disorientation all the more stark. She tried to sit up, but the moment she moved, the world tilted, a wave of dizziness washing over her.
“Easy,” a voice said, sharp but steady.
She turned her head and saw James sitting nearby, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on her.
His face was shadowed in the fading light, but his eyes held that familiar intensity that always seemed to cut right through her.
“What… what happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse, her thoughts muddled and fragmented.
James didn’t respond right away. He stood instead, grabbing a canteen and kneeling beside her, tipping it gently to her lips.
“Drink,” he ordered, his voice clipped.
She obeyed, the cool water soothing her parched throat. When she pulled back, her mind began to clear, fragments of memory rushing in all at once.
The river. The wagon. Rachel.
Angela’s chest tightened as it all came flooding back—the sight of Rachel’s wagon tipping dangerously in the current, the horses screaming, the water threatening to swallow her whole.
She’d barely thought before plunging in, her only thought to reach Rachel, to help her, to keep her from being swept away.
Angela closed her eyes, her fingers curling into the bedroll as she remembered the icy grip of the water, the way it had dragged her under, the panicked flailing as she fought to keep her head above the surface.
“Rachel,” she said suddenly, her eyes snapping open. She turned to James, her voice trembling. “How is she?”
“She’s fine,” James said shortly, but his tone was different now—harder, colder.
Angela’s heart twisted as she studied his face. The concern she’d seen in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something sharper, more rigid.
“James?” she prompted, confused by the shift.
He stood abruptly, his jaw tightening as he turned away from her for a moment. When he faced her again, his eyes burned with barely restrained anger.
“Why?” he demanded, his voice low but edged with fury. “Why would you do something so reckless?”
Angela blinked, his words cutting through the fog of her exhaustion. “I… Rachel needed help,” she said weakly. “She was going to drown.”
“And so were you!” James snapped, his voice rising.
Angela flinched at the force of his words, but she straightened as best she could, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to pull her back down.
“I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” she said, her voice trembling but firm.
“You could have died,” James said, his tone hard. “Do you understand that? The current was too strong, the river too dangerous. You should have stayed on the bank and let me handle it.”
“You weren’t there!” Angela shot back, her frustration bubbling over. “I was the only one who could reach her in time. I wasn’t going to stand there and let her die!”
“You almost died trying to save her,” James countered, his eyes flashing. “Do you even realize what you put everyone through? What you put me through?”
Angela froze, his words catching her off guard.
“Why do you care, James?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Why does it matter to you if I drowned? I don’t mean anything to you.”
For a moment, there was only silence between them, the tension crackling like a live wire. Angela’s chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Then, to her surprise, James marched over to her and kneeled down beside her.
Before she could react, his hands came up, cupping her face with surprising gentleness despite the anger still etched into his features. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and searching, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop.
And then he kissed her.
Angela’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in surprise before fluttering closed.
The kiss was fierce and raw, filled with all the emotions he hadn’t been able to put into words—fear, anger, relief.
His hands were warm against her chilled skin, his touch steadying even as her heart raced wildly in her chest.
For a moment, she forgot the ache in her lungs, the weight of the river still clinging to her body. All she could feel was James—the strength of him, the warmth of him, the way he held her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breaths uneven.
“You should rest,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Angela stared at him, her heart hammering, her mind reeling. She wanted to say something, to ask him what this meant, but the words caught in her throat.
James let his hands drop, stepping back slightly, his expression conflicted.
“We’ll talk later,” he said.
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Angela sitting on her bedroll, her heart and mind tangled in equal measure.