Page 75 of Love By a Landslide

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 underher 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 andheaved 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.

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