19. Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Benjamin
B enjamin watched, frozen in terror, as Francesca careened down that snowy embankment. Her body cartwheeled, wholly consumed by gravity’s greedy pull. Arms and legs jerking in all directions like some abused ragdoll in the hands of a four-year-old tyrant. Her descent was endless, until her wild, helpless grunts and gasps halted with a sickening thud. Her body struck a boulder at the base of the ravine. Silence followed—thick and ominous.
The same silence that had, only moments before, filled Benjamin with peace now ignited and sizzled like a thousand lit fuses looped around his torso.
“Shit! Shit shit shit!”
The moment of impact played over and over in his ears as he slid off the trail, displacing sheets of snow with each plunging step. He could barely pull his broad shoes to the surface before more of the powdery stuff broke out from under him. There was nothing solid to cling to and he lacked the skill to maneuver down to where Francesca lay limp at the base of a snow-coated rock.
“Oh, god. Oh, shit.”
Unable to steer with any real accuracy, he prayed he’d end up somewhere stable enough to gather his bearings and get to Francesca’s side. Landing about fifteen feet from her, Benjamin managed to slow his rapid descent as he approached a cluster of small evergreens. The flowing snow piled up against it, giving him a stable landing spot.
The only problem was that as he stopped, the snow above him continued to slide, and by the time it calmed, he was buried waist-deep. At that same moment, the clouds seemingly cracked open and released an aggressive flurry.
“Goddammit!”
He ferociously clawed at his icy constraints, scooping chunks of powder away from his body while continuing to watch Francesca’s motionless body. The rapidly accumulating flakes glimmered against her golden braids, swiftly blotted out the flaxen strands, which had once played with the twinkle of her amber eyes.
“Francesca!” he shouted. Fear contorted his voice into one he didn’t recognize. It bounced from one side of the valley to the other and back in a mocking echo. “Francesca, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Not a shift. Not even a little twitch.
“Help!” he shrieked as he continued to shovel and push the snow that pinned him in place. The cold stuck like tiny blades jabbing into his gloveless palms. He ignored the pain. All that mattered was getting to her. Someone had to be coming along soon. Surely, Johnny would notice they hadn’t joined the group and come looking. “Help!”
Benjamin heard a soft noise—a whimper—coming from Francesca as she finally began to stir.
“I’m coming. Stay there,” he rushed out through the haze of panic. “Francesca, hold still. I don’t know how badly you’re hurt.”
Benjamin had cleared enough snow from his hips and legs that he should have been able to pull free, yet the massive snowshoes kept him anchored in the frigid heft. He pulled, yanked, engaged every muscle he had to pry himself loose. Rumbles of frustration erupted from his mouth in a string of sharp expletives as he strained. The snowshoes weren’t going to give, not unless he spent another ten minutes clearing the packed snow from around them.
The broad metal frames had to go.
He tunneled his bare hands into the snow, no longer feeling the cold. His fingertips felt thick with numbness as he fumbled them blindly over the clips that strapped over his winter boots.
“Come on,” he bellowed, thumb slipping against the plastic that remained firmly clamped. “Come the fuck on!”
The click of the bindings giving way nearly brought tears to Benjamin’s eyes. The second followed suit as he hooked his short nails on the edge and pulled. He wiggled his boots out and soon climbed clear of the snow well he’d been stuck in.
His eyes flew to Francesca as he crawled across the plush snow. He sank with every shift, limbs screaming in protest as he ambled to her. She was still laying on her side, mumbling and moaning lightly under her breath. The closer he got, the more he could see the damage from the hit she'd taken. Blood speckled the snow. A red smear glistened where she’d collided with the solid granite, and a stream trickled down her forehead and along her cheekbone. Gone was the rosy wash of exertion and surprised arousal from their kiss. Left behind was a startlingly pallid hue.
“Ouch,” she groaned, lifting a hand to her forehead. She pulled back her fingers and spied the blood then groaned once more, letting her eyes fall shut.
“Francesca.” Her name ripped from Benjamin’s throat as though he were being tortured. He scanned the recesses of his memories for what to do. In years past, he’d hardly found it necessary to keep up with his first aid certification and cursed himself for the egregious error. She would know what to do if the roles were reversed. If she were anything like her brother, she’d be up on all the latest wilderness survival methods. “Francesca? Can you talk?”
“Benjamin?” she croaked through dry lips. “Dafuck happened?”
She was cursing, that’s good!
“You fell and hit your head on a rock. Can you move? Wait! Should you move? Shit, I don’t remember how any of this works.”
“Don't you know first aid?” Her groan miraculously contained a hint of scorn amidst her tight words.
“I haven’t taken it since college with Johnny,” he rushed out. What a fool. How could he have been so shortsighted?
“Fantastic.” She tried to push up to a sitting position but could barely lift herself without sinking elbow-deep into the snow. She settled on her side, arms curled in front of her chest.
Benjamin was useless.
What was he supposed to do? She was bleeding from a gash on her head, but he’d heard that head wounds tended to bleed more profusely than the rest of the body, even if they were minor. But wouldn’t that mean she was losing blood faster despite the potentially minimal severity of the wound? Should he ensure she stays still? Should he be putting pressure on her cut? Should he even touch her at all? He looked up to where they had been hiking minutes before. She tumbled nearly fifty feet. The snow that had broken off in sheets during both descents revealed just how steep of an embankment they’d have to climb to get back out. It would be impossible in even the most ideal circumstances.
One thing at a time.
“Francesca,” he huffed through a wave of nausea. “Sweetheart, you have to tell me what to do.”
She cracked her eyes and peered over at him.
“Weird. I liked it better when you were calling me Miss Miller,” she grumbled then cursed softly and raised a hand to her head .
“Shall we keep the snark to a minimum until we’re back on solid ground?” His efforts to add humor to his words took everything he had. “Tell me how to help you.”
“Remove my pack.”
“Right.” She unclipped the chest buckle, and he carefully removed the straps from her shoulders. Soon, the pack was separated from her body and sitting in his lap. “Now what?”
“There’s a first aid kit. You need gauze, tape, scissors.”
He pulled the red canvas bag from the main compartment and located the necessary items.
“Don’t forget gloves,” she scolded.
“Why are there condoms in here?”
“How else are we supposed to smuggle the heroine?”
Her sarcasm injected him with an instant rush of calm. She wouldn’t be so impertinent if she were in any real trouble. He glanced around and clocked the increasing snowfall. It wasn’t time to celebrate, not yet.
Miles to go . . .
He opened a pack of sterile latex gloves and pulled them in place.
“Ok, what’s next, Miss Miller ?”
“Better.” The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Rip open the gauze packets and stack a few sheets together. Press the wad to the wound and tape it in place. I can help apply pressure as you cut strips of tape.”
Benjamin nodded. With wobbly hands, he followed her directions precisely. After a couple minutes, she was bandaged up with his beanie pulled snuggly over her head to apply added pressure to the dressing.
Francesca shivered, the body heat she’d accumulated from their excursion all but faded.
“Can I move you? You’re freezing.” Benjamin wanted to get her settled in his lap so she wasn’t making as much contact with the snow. Who knows how long they’d be stuck down there. The group had to find them shortly, but it wasn’t a straightforward walk back up to the trail. He peered up to where they stood a few minutes ago. It wasn’t as though Johnny could scurry down, scoop them both up, and fireman carry them out of there. “Is it safe to move you?”
“I’m pretty sure. Nothing feels broken. My head’s pounding.” Her chattering teeth jittered her words as she wrapped her arms tighter around her body.
Benjamin unzipped and removed his jacket then laid it across Francesca’s torso. He took great care as he slid one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. Moving slowly, he gently scooped her up and settled her onto his lap. She didn’t fight him, didn’t protest.
Instead, she sighed and curled into the warmth of his chest.
Benjamin should have been freezing, with his coat, hat, and gloves removed, but holding Francesca so closely, knowing that she was all right, gave him added warmth from the inside. He felt a pang of guilt for finding enjoyment in their proximity and scolded himself silently.