Authors: Amanda Carpenter
Carrie’s world dissolved into a semi-dark world of swirling water that tried to suck her down and under the raft, the throbbing pain in her back, and the numbing cold. She no longer struggled to keep her head above water, but instead breathed when she could, and floated, holding her breath when she couldn’t. Her lungs were filled with white-hot flashes of pain, and she could no longer feel her hands.
Gabe, looking over when he could, was shocked to see her gradually giving up. The only thing that held her up was her two hands that were fixed in a death grip on the soggy mass of rope. He jerked her to him and held her head up by passing one arm around her and pushing his body up hard behind hers, pinning her to the raft.
After the longest ride of her life, Carrie could feel the hard tug and swell of the water subsiding gradually, and the rough waves soon stopped the bucking action, so familiar to her now. The raft no longer twirled around and about, but instead settled into a somewhat sedate float.
The last of the Westwater rapids was over.
“Carrie, honey,” Gabe spoke in her ear somewhat breathlessly, “are you hurt at all badly? Can you hold on to the raft?”
She gulped gratefully at the air. It was heaven to be able to breathe without fighting. She managed to nod. “I think so,” she was able to gasp out. Her whole right side was a throbbing mass of pain. She couldn’t feel any part of her hands, but she saw them clenched hard on the rope, the knuckles white.
Gabe shouted, “Steven! Ralf! Are you all right?”
The answering shout came quickly. “Yes, we’re okay.” It was Ralf. “We thought we heard Carrie back there.”
“You did. She was slammed against one of the rocks. I think she’s hurt,” Gabe replied, shouting all the time. “Can we get the raft turned over?”
They were floating down in comparative gentleness, but still there were sheer cliffs all about them. Steven swam over to the other side, sending Carrie a worried glance. She was not aware of his presence. All her energy was now concentrated on holding on to the rope, as she had promised Gabe.
Gabe took her hands and forced them off the rope; she couldn’t seem to get them to let go. Then he held her up against him as Ralf and Steven climbed on to the bottom of the raft and, putting their weight together on one side, managed, after rocking it violently, to get it flipped over, sending them both splashing into the water again. Gabe kicked out strongly to get her head above the waves that Steven and Ralf had created.
She was by now semi-conscious and aware only of being held out of the water and passed to someone else with strong arms. She didn’t feel the pain in her side anymore; she didn’t feel anything at all. As Gabe clambered into the boat, she looked at him once, foggily, then quietly passed out.
Chapter Seven
Carrie couldn’t have known that, after travelling down the river the last five miles, she was carried to the pick-up truck by Gabe. She couldn’t have known that, as the small shivering party floated downstream, one after the other, crazily, the oars from the boat floated down after them. Nor did she realise that the trip from Rose Ranch to the Westwater Ranger Station was accomplished in delicious warmth that the pick-up cab, after sitting in the sun for so long, provided. She was quite oblivious to it all.
However, when the pick-up pulled into the rangers’ station, she finally blinked her eyes and looked about her. She was being held by Gabe, her legs curled around and her head resting on his broad shoulder. She had been wrapped in a warm blanket, and her hair had been loosened from its ponytail and was curling around her head in an untamed riot. She was very aware of her aching body when she attempted to move a little, and widely subsided into stillness, relying on Gabe’s support.
“Why, hello, sleepyhead,” Gabe said softly, cocking his head to one side to look into her face. His mouth was smiling wryly, but Carrie, looking into his eyes, saw that they were not smiling at all, but were darkly shadowed.
“Hi, yourself,” she retorted, somewhat weakly.
“We’re going to switch vehicles now,” he told her.
“You’ll be more comfortable with a little more room.” With that, he opened the cab door and slid out his long legs, keeping a fine hold on Carrie the whole time. She didn’t even try a pretence of objection but merely closed her eyes and put her head back on his shoulder with a sigh. Every move that Gabe made, no matter how careful he tried to be, sent waves of pain along her injured side.
“Am I hurting you very much?” Gabe asked quickly, feeling her tense up involuntarily.
She tried to smile and pass it off.
“Oh, it really isn’t too bad,” she said, attempting lightness. “Just twinges now and then.”
Steven opened the door to the other truck for Gabe and stepped out of the way so that he could put Carrie very carefully on to the seat. As soon as he had done so, Gabe started to uncover her, pulling the blanket off of her. She protested.
“Gabe, don’t! It’s so cold.” She shivered.
“You need dry clothes on,” he told her. “I’ll help you get out of the wet shorts and shirt and you can put on the dry pair you brought.” She had brought along an extra change of clothing on Gabe’s advice, in addition to the clothes she wore over her swimsuit.
Her teeth started to chatter. “As long as we hurry,” she stammered. “I feel as if I’m sitting on a block of ice!”
Gabe very gently started to help her unbutton her shirt, eventually brushing aside her nearly useless fingers and doing it all himself. As he helped her shrug out of the top, he jerked to a stop for a moment at the sight of her back and side.
“Good God!” he muttered. He took a deep breath. “Carrie, can you feel this?” He touched the grazes and bruises on her back and pressed carefully with the tips of his fingers. The flesh felt very cold to him.
“N-not really,” she replied, wincing once or twice. “It doesn’t hurt all that badly on the surface. It’s deep inside where it hurts the most.”
Gabe helped her get on her loose and dry top, then he asked her to stand up for a moment if she could, so that he could slide her wet shorts down. This was done quickly while Carrie clutched the door of the truck to stay upright. Then he guided her feet, one at a time, into her clean shorts and pulled them carefully over her legs, where dark bruises were beginning to show.
He left her to fasten her shorts while he went over to Ralf and Steven, who were pretending to be busy near the back of the other truck. As they saw him come around the corner of the truck, they stopped.
Steven asked, “How’s she feeling?” He sounded uncomfortable.
Gabe said shortly, “I’m going to take her to hospital to get some X-rays taken of her ribs. She took a worse beating than I realised, and her back is one big bruise. Even her legs are bruised.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Steven asked, “Do you think she might have a cracked rib or two?”
“It’s very possible. She said it hurts the most in deep. I don’t know, she might have only bruised the ribs, but I don’t think we should take the chance,” he replied, running a hand through his hair.
“Do you know the way to the hospital?” Ralf asked. “We can lead the way, and while Carrie is being X-rayed, we can call home to tell Mom and Emma to get her bed ready.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Gabe. “Are you about ready to leave?”
Their reply was an affirmative, and Gabe went back to the pick-up as Steven and Ralf climbed into their truck. Carrie was fast asleep in the front seat, sprawled anyhow, half in and half out of the blanket. Gabe shrugged on a clean pair of shorts and a dry shirt over his damp swimsuit, then slid on a pair of tennis shoes. Then he quietly shut Carrie’s door and slid into the driver’s seat after lifting her head and carefully settling her back on his right thigh for a pillow. Then he started the motor.
She woke up when she felt someone slip two arms under her and lift her out of the seat. She looked around hazily. It was Gabe, large and amazingly comforting, and he carried her towards a building. Carrie got a foggy impression of a bustling and starched efficiency.
“This is not home,” she told him quite lucidly.
He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that she felt come from his chest. “No, it’s a hospital. You’re going to get your poor ribs and back looked at.”
Carrie shook her head. “Ridiculous,” she mumbled. “I’m perfectly all right. Half-drowned, but okay. Just give me a month. Month in bed and I’ll—er—be all right.”
Gabe had to laugh again. He put his lips briefly on her head. “Just shut up, will you?”
There was a period of time when Carrie simply drifted along in a nice, impenetrable fog. Then she became aware of someone helping her off with her clothes and a man in a white coat who began to poke her side and back with his fingers. At that she cried, quietly and only a little bit, sniffing and wiping her eyes with trembling fingers.
Then she was wheeled somewhere, brought back, her grazes dressed, given an injection, and helped back into her clothes. The injection seemed to make things even more foggy, and by that time Carrie was quite beyond caring about anything. People talked above her head in deep voices, one that she recognized as Gabe, and the other was the man in the white coat. Then she was taken to the truck in a wheelchair—in which she fell asleep—and afterwards, lifted into the cab. She looked up once, saw Gabe’s lean and dark face above her, reached up with one hand and touched his cheek, then fell asleep again.
Cool air rushed in and around her and she opened her eyes. It was dark outside and Gabe was once more carrying her, this time to her front door. There was a bustle and Steven hurried forward to open the front door. Gabe strode in, hesitated for a moment, then headed for the stairs.
The sudden light made Carrie blink, bringing her fully to her senses. Someone exclaimed, and Emma bustled forward. “Carrie, honey! And what a time to get company, too! Oh, Janet, Carrie’s here!”
Company? she puzzled. Did she mean Gabe? Her eyes swiveled to Gabe’s face, and she saw his expression go blank. Then she turned her head back around. Hurrying down the hall from the large living room was her mother and someone right on her heels. Carrie’s eyes widened and she gave a gasp. Good lord! Neil! What was he doing here, of all places? Her mouth formed a round little “O”.
Neil, slim and light-haired, hurried forward and brushed past Janet. “Carrie, darling!” he exclaimed, sounding shocked. “What’s happened? Oh, love, it’s so good to see you!”
It was absolutely too much. The whole day and the enormity of what had happened hit Carrie like a ton of bricks. She took one horrified look at Neil, looked up at Gabe’s hardening face, put her head into the curve of Gabe’s neck and shoulder, and cried.
Gabe brushed past Neil and headed up the stairs with Janet and Emma following. He hesitated at the top. “Which way is her room?” he asked harshly.
Janet pointed to a door, and Gabe strode on into the room, putting her on the bed. He started to straighten, stopped, bent down and cupped her cheek for an instant. “I’ll call,” he promised. His face was once again expressionless and Carrie stared up, frightened for some reason.
“Gabe, don’t go yet, please…” she pleaded. He shook his head and pulled his hand away, then left.
Janet helped her get out of her clothes and into a short nightgown. All the time, she was sobbing quietly, tiredly. Janet made her lie back on her pillows and sat stroking her tangled hair. Still crying, she fell asleep almost as soon as she had settled under the covers.
“Ouch! Damn it!” Carrie shouted. Ralf hurried into the room and found her sitting on the floor, holding her side and moaning. He rushed over to her.
“Carrie, are you all right?” he asked breathlessly. She glared at him.
“I’m just dandy,” she snapped, then repented. “I’m okay, I think. It’s just that I had to go to the bathroom and I was still half-asleep when I got up, so I forgot to be careful. Then I went and tripped.”
Ralf put out a hand and helped her to her feet. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he told her. “The doctor said to rest.”
Carrie retorted, “There are some things that just don’t wait, Ralf.” She hesitated. “Could you help me to the bathroom, please?”
“Sure thing, kiddo.” With her brother’s help, she managed to make it to the bathroom and back with no other mishaps. By the time she got back to bed, she was more than happy to slide in between the covers.
The small trip had quite exhausted her.
Ralf made sure she had something to read, then went downstairs to let Emma know she was awake and ready to eat something. Carrie glanced at the clock in horror after he had left. She’d slept right through the morning and well into the afternoon.
Several minutes later, Emma came into the room with a loaded tray. She waited until Carrie had struggled upright, then set the tray across her lap. Emma stood looking down at her, waiting for her to peep under the covered lids, so she obligingly peeped and poked, exclaiming over the delicious-smelling poached eggs and the delicate sandwiches. She sniffed the soup happily, after lifting the lid of the steaming urn, and assured Emma that everything was just perfect. As Emma turned to go, Carrie called for her to wait.
“Is Neil still downstairs?” she asked, dreading the answer. Emma’s eyebrows rose.
“Why, yes, he is,” she said. “Janet has offered to let him stay here for a few days. He’d like to talk to you when you feel up to it.” Emma regarded her thoughtfully. “So Mr. Stanton is a friend of yours from Chicago?”
Carrie didn’t resent Emma’s prying question, for Emma had been with the Metcalfe family for as long as she could remember. However, that didn’t mean that she was going to answer it fully. She said cautiously, “Neil and I used to see each other now and then, but I never thought we knew each other well enough to warrant him making a trip out to Colorado.”
Emma nodded, satisfied. She had been sure Carrie couldn’t have felt serious about more than one man at a time. She walked on down the stairs humming.
Carrie looked down at her delicious meal, her appetite diminished with the returning thought of her coming encounter with Neil. She wondered cynically if he had bothered to remember his wedding ring for the visit. She somehow doubted it. Eating was just the chore that she had expected; every bite was nearly impossible to swallow.