Page 28 of Wistful Whispers

“She needs help,” I call out and two divers jump into the water and swim over to us. They take Hannah from me and one of them tows her to their boat.

“Be careful. She’s twenty-eight weeks pregnant,” I call after him, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears. I made it. I got her to safety.Any strength I had left leaves me and I just feel weightless. The lake is pulling on me again and I just want to let go. I’ve done what I needed to do. I’ve done it.

Just as I am about to slip under the surface the second diver takes hold of me.

“Not so quick mate. Your partner and your baby will need you,” he says calmly, dragging me swiftly to the boat.

The diver hauls me up, one hand gripping my arm, the other securing me by the waist, practically lifting me from the water. I don’t resist as someone pulls me over the boat’s edge, the deck suddenly solid beneath me. I feel numb and chilled to the bone, my muscles weak and trembling. I catch a glimpse of Hannah sitting bundled up on a bench, as the crew peel away her soaked clothes and wrap her in thick, dry blankets. Her head lolls to the side, her eyes barely open, her face pale against the dark wool, but I can see her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath. She’s here—she’s alive.

One of the crewmen steadies me and presses me to sit down. Another reaches for the hem of my soaked shirt, peeling it off before draping a heavy, woollen blanket over my shoulders. The scratchy warmth of it feels strange against my numb skin but I sink into it, clutching it close as the last of the lake’s chill beginsto loosen its grip. I barely feel them tugging off my waterlogged trousers and shoes, only faintly registering the clatter as they drop onto the deck.

“Here, drink this, mate.” A steaming mug is pushed into my hands, and I blink, focusing on the hot tea sloshing inside. I bring it to my lips with fingers trembling so badly that a bit spills down my chin but I don’t care. The heat of it burns my throat and I welcome the pain.

My eyes drift back to Hannah. One of the crew holds her hand and speaks to her softly. Another slips a stethoscope under the blankets, listening carefully, and I watch him nod with a faint but confident smile on his face as he murmurs something to his colleague.

The diver who’d pulled me from the water sits beside me, his hand a solid, grounding weight on my shoulder. “You did it,” he says quietly, his voice low and steady. I nod, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and relief settle over me. Every breath feels heavier but lighter at the same time, as if the weight I’d carried into that lake has finally let go.

“Argh,” Hannah suddenly exclaims and all eyes are on her.

“Hannah!” Somehow I manage to crawl to her just as the crew lay her down onto the deck.

Hannah grabs my hand before convulsing again.

“Looks like you’re in labour love,” the crewman with the stethoscope says and I see concern in his eyes. “Let’s take her onthe boat to Windermere and the ambulance can meet us there. That’s much quicker than taking her back to Fellside and then by ambulance to the hospital,” he explains, trying to get my consent. I nod. Sounds like a plan to me.

The engine of the boat roars and hums beneath us as we speed towards Windermere. The crew work like a well-oiled machine, focused and calm despite the urgency of the situation. I glance at Hannah whose face is still pale and now glistening with a light sheen of sweat. One of the crew, a woman with a determined look, kneels beside her and firmly holds her hand.

“Just breathe, Hannah,” the woman instructs, her voice soothing despite the chaos around us. “In and out, nice and slow.”

Hannah’s eyes flutter open, panic flashing through them as another wave of pain hits her.

“Focus on me, Hanny-bee,” I say gently. “You’re doing brilliantly. Just keep breathing.”

Her body tenses as another contraction rolls through her. She gasps, a sharp intake of breath that sends a pang of fear through me. “Jake,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. You’re so strong,” I urge, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve got this. We’re almost there.”

The crew work quickly to secure blankets and make space, one of them setting up a small makeshift area with towels and more blankets to keep Hannah comfortable. The boat rocks gently, each wave threatening to jolt us, but they remain steadyand focused on her. I can’t tear my gaze from her face, each contraction etching lines of pain deeper across her brow.

As we approach Windermere I see the outline of the shore coming into view. The crew prepares for us to dock, moving with urgency that fuels my own anxiety.

“Just hold on,” I whisper again, and she nods, squeezing her eyes shut as another wave crashes over her.

“How far?” Hannah gasps, panic creeping back into her voice as the next contraction hits. “We’re not going to make it, Jake!”

“Just breathe sweetheart,” I say, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “We’re almost there, I promise. You’re not alone.”

The shore draws closer, and I feel the tension in the air rise with every passing second. The crew move faster, shouting instructions to each other as we close in on the pier. I can barely focus on anything but Hannah and the way she’s fighting through the pain.

I feel the boat lurch slightly as the crew aligns us with the pier. I can see the outlines of the ambulance now.

I don’t pay much attention on how we’re taken off the boat or loaded onto the ambulance. My whole focus is on Hannah and our baby.

Chapter 14

Jake

The hospital lights aretoo bright for my eyes as I try to steady myself. My legs are still trembling from the cold, or maybe from the shock. Everything’s a blur—a manic, loud, terrifying blur. They’ve wheeled Hannah into a room while nurses swarm around us and I’m clinging to her hand not wanting to let go.

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