Page 37 of Honoring Lena

Twenty

Marshall pickedhis way down the hill, the slow pace grating at his nerves. His heart still hadn’t gone back into his chest and it threatened to choke him. Carter cried as he pushed against Lena’s unmoving body. His frantic calling of her name made Marshall’s heart pound faster and faster with each second. Was she dead? Was Carter hurt? How would he get them to help if she was seriously injured? What would he do if they were both hurt?

“Daddy, help!” Carter’s cry focused Marshall on what needed done.

“I’m coming, buddy.” He jumped down from a tuft of grass, surprised when his feet hit sand. “I’m almost there.”

Taking a quick scan of the hilltop, he found it empty and blew out a breath of relief. At least he didn’t have to contend with bears attacking on top of everything else. The sow and cubs had shot into the woods when chaos had shattered their quiet afternoon.

Marshall slid down the sand like it was snow, keeping his balance so he didn’t end up in a heap like Lena. The closer he got, the more his stomach knotted. Even from halfway down the hill, he could see the blood smeared across her face. Please, God, don’t let her be dead too.

Why had Marshall opened his heart again? The world was just determined to rip it out. He’d brought this on her. Unless he changed his course for the future, he’d likely keep bringing pain on her. Carter, as well. If they survived, maybe he should just let Lena take Carter far away where neither of them could be harmed from his decisions.

Could he do that? Could he be unselfish long enough for them to escape? He scanned Carter as he reached the bottom of the hill and ran toward them. His son had dirt and sand covering him from head to toe. Blood smeared down his left cheek.

Tears stung Marshall’s eyes. Yeah, he’d let them go. He might not survive long without his heart, but he couldn’t allow them to be put in danger any longer.

“Daddy, Lena won’t ’ake up.” Carter ran to Marshall, tears streaming tracks down his dirty face.

Marshall rejoiced at his own son not being injured. How had he made it down the steep slope without seriously hurting something? Marshall refocused on Lena. How had she had enough time to react to protect Carter in their fall?

Marshall scooped Carter up and held him tight against his chest. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah. Me okay.” Carter’s voice hitched on a sob. “But Eena hurt.”

Carter pushed away from Marshall’s embrace and turned in his arms. If Carter’s constant concern for others continued through adulthood, his son would do so much good. If Marshall could keep him alive long enough to grow up.

He blinked away the moisture from his eyes and dashed the rest of the way to Lena’s side. Her arm bent awkwardly under her body, and blood oozed from a gash above her eyebrow. Her back arched over the backpack strapped to her, making her twist in an eerie form of yoga.

Marshall swallowed the bile that filled his mouth and kneeled next to her. How could he touch her without making her injuries worse? Setting Carter next to him, Marshall pressed his fingers to Lena’s throat. Nothing. Black spots swam in front of him. No, no, no! He adjusted his fingers and pressed harder. She couldn’t be dead. Her strong pulse bumped against his fingers, and all the tension whooshed out of him.

Laying his forehead on her chest, he took a deep breath to calm himself. The steady rise and fall of her breathing calmed him even more. He took another deep breath, sat up, and wiped his eyes across his sleeve.

“Is Eena okay?” Carter pulled on Marshall’s arm.

“I don’t know, buddy.” He gave him a quick hug. “I think she’s just taking a little nap.”

Carter nodded and glanced from Lena to Marshall. “Okay.”

“In fact, why don’t you lie down right here and rest while I clean Lena up?” Marshall took off his flannel shirt and stretched it out on the ground a few feet from Lena’s head. “You can watch and let me know if I miss any blood.”

“Okay, Daddy.” Carter scrambled over Marshall’s lap and curled on his side. Maybe he’d fall asleep, and Marshall wouldn’t have to keep the brave face on.

Who was he kidding? Carter had just taken a nap. There was no way the kid would fall back to sleep.

Panic had Marshall’s eyebrows permanently attached to his hairline.

He needed to wake Lena up so she could tell him what to do. He had never been one to let others boss him around, but Lena was different. She ordered him about in a way that strengthened him. Everything about her made him better: a better dad, a more focused businessman, better at connecting with others. She even made him more critical of his analysis of situations.

Tearing the bottom of his T-shirt free, he wet it and dabbed at the cut on her head. “Lena, honey, wake up.” He cringed as blood ran from the cut a little faster. “Lena, please, we need you to wake up.”

“Daddy?” Carter’s voice still held hiccupped sobs.

“It’s okay, buddy.”

Marshall rewet the fabric and turned it to a cleaner section. As he continued to wipe the grime from her face, his desperation rose. What would happen if she never opened her eyes? Couldn’t people look perfectly fine but have such a severe head injury that they never recovered from it?

His hands shook as he pressed the swatch of T-shirt to her cut. Carefully, he probed her skull with his fingertips, looking for any other bumps or gashes that could explain her unresponsiveness. When his fingers didn’t press into brains or soft spots, he let out a fortifying huff and glanced at Carter. His hands were folded under his face, and his eyes were wide with fear. His breath hitched like it did when he cried, and his body was coming down from the emotion.

---