Page 38 of Honoring Lena

“Lena.” Marshall turned back to her and tapped her cheek with his palm. “Lena, wake up.” Frustration built in his chest, binding his lungs and threatening to suffocate him. “Lena Rebel, stop playing around and get your sorry side up.” He used the best impersonation of his drill sergeant during boot camp.

Lena moaned, her eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks. She wouldn’t respond to soft touches, but yelling at her got her moving? He had so much fear and worry building up in him, he could give her a verbal thrashing if it woke her up.

“Rebel, what do you think this is, nap time? Are you a preschooler or something?” Marshall leaned over her, cupping his palms on the sides of her face. “You need to stop being lazy and wake up.”

“Daddy, stop being mean.” Carter got to his knees.

“I’m trying to wake her, Carter. It’s okay.”

She moaned again, and Marshall almost shouted with joy. He took a quick look around to make sure nothing was creeping up on them while he was preoccupied. The emptiness of the Alaskan wilderness both eased his fears and increased them. He never would’ve thought that possible a week before.

“Rebel, open your eyes.” He leaned right in her face. “Carter needs you. I need you. Open. Your. Eyes.” Each word grew louder as fear tried to wrap its fingers in his scalp and pull him down beside her.

She gasped, her arm flinging out and face going wide with fear. “Carter?” Even half-dead, her first thought was for someone else.

“He’s fine.” Marshall caught her flailing hand with one of his own and pointed to where Carter sat. “You kept him safe.”

Her entire body relaxed as her gaze found Carter, then tensed again with a scream she cut short to a whimper. A chill washed over Marshall at her pain and his lack of knowledge on how to help. His fingers shook as he gave her hand a squeeze. Carter cried and crawled over.

“Carter, stay on my shirt.” Marshall quickly set his son on the make-shift blanket and turned to Lena. “What’s wrong?” That was a stupid question. “What hurts?” Like that was any better.

“I don’t know.” Lena’s voice, while calm, had panic laced within her tone. “My arm, I think.”

“Okay.” Marshall adjusted his position and tried to get a better look at how her arm was trapped. “What if I undo the straps from your pack and try to take it off?”

Lena swallowed, her expression full of relief at the suggestion. If he could just keep on throwing out good ideas, maybe he could help her after all. He quickly unwound the straps from the bottom of the pack.

“Okay. If I lift you up with one hand and pull the pack away with the other, will that work?” He didn’t care that he needed her direction for everything at the moment. He didn’t want to hurt her more.

“Yeah.” Lena’s shaky voice made his knees weak with worry. “Just try to keep my arm from under me when you set me down.”

Right. Marshall huffed, then threaded his arm under Lena. She trembled beneath him, her breath coming in quick rasps against his skin as she bunched the back of his shirt in her fingers. He clenched the bag in the other hand and, with extreme gentleness, lifted her enough to pull the pack from under her.

Adjusting his grip on her, he moved her arm from beneath her and set her down. She whimpered against his neck before releasing her grip on his shirt and relaxing into the ground. Marshall brushed hair from her chalky skin with shaky fingers, sick to his stomach that she was in so much pain.

“What now?” He hated to ask, but worried if he didn’t prod her, he’d lose her again.

Lena closed her eyes, and her forehead scrunched. Her uninjured shoulder wiggled, then stopped. Then her leg muscle moved against his, where he touched, and her opposite foot rotated. Was she systematically evaluating her injuries? How could anyone push through so much obvious pain like she did? She opened her eyes, and Marshall leaned closer.

“I think…” She squeezed her eyes shut again and cleared her throat. “I think it’s just my arm. Everything else hurts, but nothing like my arm.”

“Okay.” Marshall examined how her limb hung by her side. “Is it broken?”

Lena turned her head with a wince. Moving her other hand across her body, she pressed her fingers into her shoulder. Her sharp intake of breath made his own shoulder hurt. He shook out his muscles as she continued to probe her arm.

“I think the shoulder is just out of socket.” She relaxed into the ground and took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to put it back in.”

His stomach flipped in on itself, but he nodded. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen injured people before. He just wasn’t great around them.

“Grab my forearm.” She motioned with her opposite hand. “We need the arm at a forty-five degree angle. You’re going to pull my arm away from me, slow and steady, okay?”

“Okay.” That made no sense. Why would he pull the arm away from where it needed to go?

“You’ll probably need to brace your foot on my side.” Lena swallowed as her opposite hand clenched and released.

He wanted to slide his palm into hers and let her know it’d be okay. She’d probably punch him in the face and tell him to stop being a pansy. She’d be right. He couldn’t stomach how much this would hurt her. He took a fortifying breath, wrapped both hands around her forearm, and carefully lifted it to the angle she’d said.

“Ready?” Was he asking himself or her?

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