Page 8 of A Groom for Lauren
“Yes.” He saw her shiver. “I’m cold.”
“I’ll go get some blankets,” the pastor offered. “Bea, get that baby inside and clean it up.”
“Warm some water. I’ll bring her to the church once I lift her out of here,” Christopher said. “Get those blankets as soon as you can. She’s going to need them when she comes out of the water.” The pastor headed back to the church with a wave.
“Is Esther alright?” Her voice was softer, and he could tell the chattering had stopped. That wasn’t good.
She’d already come from a dark place. He didn’t want that fight with herself to end from a bout with hypothermia.
Christopher sat on the ground. He could feel the wet dirt penetrate his wool pants. “She’s alright. The pastor’s sister has her.”
“She wasn’t hurt?”
“I think she’s upset about being wet and muddy, but not a scratch on her.”
“That’s good.” Lauren adjusted her arms over the tree. “I’m very tired.”
“Don’t you dare close your eyes, Lauren,” he commanded. Her eyes opened and snapped to his. He could tell they were a deep brown. Mud dotted her face and hair. “We’ll get you a warm bath as soon as I get you out of here.”
“I didn’t mean to fall.” He could hear her voice shaking. She leaned her head forward against the tree trunk. “I was walking back to town, and the bank gave way.”
“That’s because of all the snow this winter. It doesn’t have anywhere to go, so it eroded.”
“Can you hurry?”
Christopher finished tying the last knot in the rope. “Heads up,” he said, swinging the rope towards Lauren. “Grab the rope as soon as you can.”
“I’m afraid I’ll fall.”
“Grab above the knot. I have the other end. You won’t go into the water. I promise.” He thought he saw a slight nod, so he swung the rope towards her. She lifted one arm from the trunk and reached for the rope, her fingers just skimming the large knot. “Let me try again.” It took several tries before Lauren could grasp onto the rope with one hand. She tucked it underneath herself and leaned once more on the trunk. “You need to hold on tightly, so I can pull you up.”
“I don’t know if I have the strength,” she said.
“Lauren,” Christopher implored, “look at me.” Her head was lying on her arms. “Look at me…now.”
He saw her flinch at the tone of his voice. But this was a matter of life and death. She could catch a fever from the chilled waters.
She lifted her head. “I can’t…”
Why couldn’t she just grab the rope?“You can. You must. I’ll pull you up. You just need to hold on to the rope. Can you do that?” The sounds of footsteps thundered down the path. Christopher looked up to see Pastor Collins carrying a blanket, followed by several townsfolk.
He had to get through to her. “Now, Lauren,” he said through gritted teeth. “Grasp the rope with both hands and don’t let go. Your baby needs you.”
She nodded and pushed herself slightly away from the tree. As soon as both hands were on the rope, he started pulling. Her legs dangled behind her as he slid her up the muddy bank. When she was on the grass, he dropped the rope and ran to her.
She didn’t move for a moment and then tried to push herself up on her arms, before laying back down. Christopher gently rolled her over. The front of her blouse and skirt were coated in the thick, sticky mud. He needed to get her out of sight of the many eyes that were crowding around. He had his suspicions that there was more to her story, but now wasn’t the place for questioning.
“Here,” Pastor Collins said, handing Christopher the blanket.
He draped it over the young woman and tucked it around her sides. Slipping his arms underneath her, he lifted her into his arms. She weighed no more than a feather. Her head rested against his chest, and he heard her moan.
“You hurting?” He felt her head moving back and forth. She was alright for now.
“Bring her to the parish,” Pastor Collins said, pushing everyone aside so Christopher could walk through the crowd.
He felt Lauren lift her head and look at him.
“Where’s my baby?” she asked before she went limp in his arms.
