37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Jonathan
Y ou gotta hang in there for a bit longer.
Jonathan let Lucy’s encouragement sink in. Her honeyed voice coated his brain like a balm that soothed the rising anxiety and fear.
There is nothing you can’t handle—that we can’t handle together.
Unwittingly reliant on each other for four days, they’d tromped through uncut backwoods and escaped more than one disaster. He’d pulled her out of harm’s way when the landslide decimated their path home. She’d lost her pack, forcing them to share sleeping quarters and limit rations. She cared for him when he threw out his back: sought water, cooked, rubbed salve on his aching muscles.
We’re a team, right?
Damn right they were, and Jonathan was grateful for it. Lucy slid into his life like a destructive force, leveling his orderly rules and reconfiguring the terrain of his heart. Giving him something more to cling to than the boring, risk-averse routine he’d been carefully orchestrating for years. Her light brought him above ground when he hadn’t even realized he’d been buried for so long.
Jonathan had let a part of himself vanish along with Cynthia, penance for his culpability in her death. Maybe he wasn’t completely at fault. It was tough to accept, but Lucy’s faith in him increased his longing to believe it, to move on and join the land of the living. To allow himself a slice of life where he could be happy with this humorous, passionate, and stubborn woman who persevered through each obstacle with her chin lifted and shoulders square.
My sunshine.
Jonathan looked down to where their hands clasped tightly together. Lucy tugged him along the trail, and his feet unconsciously followed. Even when his mind was arrested in thought, his bodily instinct was to remain close. To heel at her side like a lovesick puppy. The automatic response that would have been unsettling four days ago comforted him just then.
After a few minutes, a break in the trees revealed a clearing across the river.
The trailhead.
Lucy spotted it as quickly as Jonathan had and spun to face him, wearing the widest smile imaginable. A dopey grin tugged at his lips when she raised up on tiptoes and delivered a hard kiss. His pulse quickened for her, for the end of their ordeal.
For the unapologetically raging river they still had to cross.
Reading his expression, Lucy entwined her fingers with his. “Jonathan, we’ve made it.” The cool pressure of her palm grounded the whirring thoughts ricocheting around his mind. She tugged, pulling him toward the log bridge. The final obstacle to their salvation.
Nearing the edge, they paused, and Jonathan surveyed the crossing. A swell of panic, rivaling the magnitude of the turbulent rapids, rushed up beneath his sodden clothes. Heat dragged prickly fingers across his shoulders and down to the small of his back, where they viciously dug in. Sweat beaded on his forehead, only to mix with the rain. Rivulets of chilled liquid stung his wide eyes and trickled into his gawked mouth, tasting of salt and fear. The scent of the water-logged forest invaded his nostrils, mingling the dank stench of rotting wood and muggy air with his own perspiration.
The makeshift crossing was no bridge, but a cruel practical joke, sawed longways with a rickety handrail affixed to one side. The frothy river licked at the bottom of the log, salivating and hungry, waiting to devour anyone who should falter in their crossing.
“We’ll do this together.” The lilting song of Lucy’s voice reclaimed his attention. When had she gotten onto the end of the log?
It took no more motivation than that to climb up behind her. He gripped the railing that had likely been there since the prior summer but hesitated to put weight on it. Who knew how sturdy it would be or if it would hold more than a steady grip.
Look ahead, look ahead.
Jonathan steadied his gaze on Lucy’s dripping ponytail. He followed the water dribbling off her hair as it trailed down the bright purple sleeves of her jacket. The droplets clung to the tips of her fingers and then fell into the swell below.
His steps halted, eyes no longer trained ahead but squarely at the flowing squall beneath their feet. His vision tunneled, and the deafening cacophony took on a muted tone.
I can’t breathe.
“Jonathan.” She’d turned to face him but was a few paces away. “You can do this. Halfway.” She pointed behind her, at the opposite river bank, a mere fifteen feet away. A smile beamed across her lips. Warm and reassuring despite her shivering.
For her. Keep it together for her.
He returned a weak smile and nodded.
Lucy pivoted, slipping on her next shuffling step, and fell against the railing. The fragile wood splintered and snapped under her weight. She tumbled into the churn. Violent swells instantly swept her under.
Jonathan watched in horror, each second playing out in agonizingly slow motion as the rapids swallowed her flailing form.
No!
Desperation caused him to spring into action. He dashed across the log, swiftly untied the knot holding up his makeshift pack, and flung the hammock and ropes in a heap behind him. Feet slipping on river rocks and gravel, he scanned the churn for any sign of her. For a moment, he thought he heard her call his name through the roar.
Impossible.
He couldn’t hear his own heartbeat rage against his ribs, let alone hear her call to him.
A flash of purple caught his eye downstream between the chop of white caps and muddy gray flow. Her jacket. The hood had snagged on a felled branch and held her fast, a wall of water pummeling her back as she hung there, face down.
He raced his way around thickets and rocks.
Jonathan!
There it was again, Lucy calling to him. Except, she was submerged, waiting for him to pull her out.
Tripping on an exposed root, Jonathan fell, grinding his chin against the hard granite of a broken boulder. The hit didn’t phase him, he had to get to her. Had to pull her out of there.
Jonathan!
A few more strides, and he charged into the tumultuous swirl. Holding onto the branch that entangled Lucy, he waded chest-deep. The bark was bitingly rough, providing enough friction for him to cling to. He reached. A little farther, and heard a crack, small but simultaneously ear-splitting. He stretched out and grabbed the pack still firmly attached to her shoulders and heaved with all the force he had left. She shifted, and he looped an arm beneath her shoulders and through the backpack straps.
“I’ve got you, sunshine,” he choked in her ear as water splashed over them.
Jonathan dug his heels into the silt at his feet. Arching his back, he heaved Lucy out of the current. He stumbled, landing on his hip, but had managed to free her from the river’s pull. Scrambling up, he pulled her—waterlogged pack and all—onto the shore.
Jonathan!
He must have been short-circuiting because as he looked down at her, he saw the reality. Lips a sickening blue, face pallid, she wasn’t breathing. He patted her cheek gently a few times. “Lucy, Lucy! Can you hear me?”
No response.
He leaned down, ear to her mouth and nose.
No breath.
Tilting her chin to open her airways, he sealed his lips over hers and gave her his breath. One. Two. Then he raised up and stacked hands over her chest.
A whimper bubbled up in his throat, and strings of consciousness flowed out of him as he began compressions. “Sunshine, it’s ok. You’re ok. I’ve got you. Open your eyes and look at me. Please.” He pulled back and administered two more breaths before resuming the steady pumps. River water and sweat combined with the tears that flowed freely down his face. Spots of blood from his sliced chin dripped onto the backs of his hands. The salt and the sting of sand in his wound and eyes caused no distraction but were a welcome tether, rooting him at his lover’s side.
“Sunshine . . . sunshine, please, you can’t—” A sob racked his body, and he trembled but managed to continue CPR. “You have to be all right. ”
Four days ago, Lucy had bought her way into his life. They’d been through hell together and gotten so close to rescue. He wouldn’t let the world lose its brightest light to a goddamn river.
“Jonathan!” Not Lucy.
“Frankie?” His little sister clambered over rocks to reach them, while a few others scrambled behind.
“Jonathan.”
“Oh my god.” He peered up unfocused but continued thrusting. He wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not until she opened her eyes.
“I’m so glad we found you!” Francesca touched his shoulder briefly then turned, frantically waving her arms. “Medic!” She crouched back down beside her brother. “Search and rescue’s here. Someone can take over CPR.”
“No!” he barked then descended into sobs. “She is my responsibility. Mine!”
A clamor of voices surrounded Jonathan, but he blocked them out and focused on Lucy.
“You’re exhausted. Let me take over,” one man said.
“No,” he whimpered. His muscles ached, his lungs burned with water and fatigue and grief, but he wouldn’t stop.
The chattering voices all congealed into one murmuring rumble.
The medic arrived a moment later. “What’s the status?” she asked.
“He won’t let anyone take over.”
“Let me talk to—”
Lucy coughed.
Everyone gasped as Jonathan sobbed words of relief.
He tilted her to the side as she cleared her lungs, scraping strands of hair off her face. She lay there in a daze, and he cooed in her ear, trying to calm her quivering body and labored wheezing. “I got you. You’re safe. They found us, sunshine.” Her temple felt cool where he laid gentle kisses. She said nothing between the spasmodic coughs and groans, body still fraught with violent tremors.
“Hey, big brother.” Frankie laid a hand on his shoulder. “She needs medical attention. Let the professionals step in now, yeah?”
The notion of being away from Lucy after he’d almost lost her was agony, but the risk of hypothermia was real. He helped lay her on the metal caged stretcher and followed as four people carefully hauled her up the embankment, where they loaded her into a waiting ambulance.
The medic crawled in and covered Lucy with multiple thick woolen blankets. Jonathan moved to follow but was stopped by a hand on his chest.
“I’m Sherrif Howards. I have a few questions for you,” the man said. Jonathan took in the uniform and rain shield covering his hat. The man couldn’t be much older than him, but the shiny badge proclaimed his authority. Still, Jonathan pushed by him. “I have to go with her.”
“Not in my ambulance, you’re not,” the EMT called from the still-open rear door. “If the sherrif wants to talk to you, you’d better stay. We have another medic in the tent that can look you over. I need to get your friend to the hospital. Now.” She gripped the handle and pulled the door shut. And a moment later, the vehicle turned out of the parking lot, taillights disappearing in the distance.
“Come on, Jon,” another warm, familiar voice soothed. Miguel laid a heavy hand around his shoulders and guided him into a large pop-up tent. “We have some dry sweats and food. Let’s handle the nitty-gritty then we’ll get you to your gal, all right?”
Jonathan nodded, following in a daze beside his friend.
I’ll get there as fast as I can, sunshine.