by Bess McBride
“She covered her head and formed a pocket of air!” Luke cried out. “Emily! We are here, my love. We are here!”
Jefferson, digging in the mud, paused momentarily before he resumed digging.
“Get me out of here!” Emily sobbed, moving her head from side to side. He still could not see her face, but she lived, she breathed.
“Be still, Emily. We have only a bit more to go, then I think we can pull you out!”
Luke looked to Jefferson, who nodded to confirm the plan.
They dug as fast as they could until Emily’s torso was free. The material of the raincoat largely covered her face, and Luke finally managed to loosen it from around her head. She let go of his hand to pull the rest of the coat from her face.
Pale underneath her muddy face, she cried and gasped.
“Thank you, thank you!” she said to both of them. “Oh, thank you!”
“It is a miracle you survived,” Jefferson grunted, clawing at the mud.
“I know, I know!” she cried out.
“Let us try to lift her out, Jefferson,” Luke said.
He lowered himself into the hole and wrapped his arms around her torso. Jefferson did the same, and together they pulled. The mud held Emily tight, unwilling to release her.
“I can’t move. I can’t kick. My legs are stuck,” she cried out against their shoulders.
“Patience, dear,” Luke said, pulling and lifting as gently and strongly as he could.
“I need more leverage,” Jefferson said. “I have to get on my knees.”
“I agree. Do not dislodge the mud in her direction.”
Luke and Jefferson released Emily and pushed up to their knees. They leaned over again and wrapped their arms around her body.
“Ow!” Emily cried out.
“Stop!” Luke barked. “We’re hurting her!”
“No, don’t stop!” Emily shouted. “I’m sorry! It hurts, but you have to do it!” She wrapped her arms around their shoulders. “Pull!”
Luke and Jefferson looked at each other.
“On three,” Jefferson said. “One, two, three.”
They pulled in unison and dragged Emily free of the sucking mud. Heaving her body onto the surface of the flow, Luke and Jefferson fell backward. Luke scrambled to his knees to examine Emily’s face. She sobbed.
“Are you injured?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so. I can’t tell,” she said.
“Come. We must get off the mudslide in case it disintegrates.”
“Let us take her to that side of the flow,” Jefferson said, nodding in the direction from which he had come. Luke looked over his shoulder toward the school.
“Yes, that is most practical. The road will be closed for some time. Can you get her back to the boardinghouse or to Dr. Cook’s house? I have to return to the school to warn the students to avoid the hills and the road.”
“What?” Emily cried out. “You’re leaving me? Don’t I get a say?”
Jefferson looked at Luke with raised eyebrows.
“Perhaps we should ask Emily what she wishes,” Luke said. His heart contracted as he saw the despair on Emily’s face. “What do you want to do, Emily?”
“I brought you a sandwich!” she moaned, tears running down her muddy cheeks. She rolled over onto her knees in a jumble of wet and muddy clothing, pulled a napkin-wrapped ball from her pocket and thrust it at him. The ball opened to reveal what must have formerly been bread and food.
Luke smiled crookedly and took the wad from her.
“Thank you,” he said. “I take it that is why you were on the road?”
Emily nodded.
“We must get off the mudslide,” Jefferson urged. “More may be on the way.”
“I agree. Emily, what do you wish to do? I have to return to the school. It would be best if Jefferson could escort you wherever you wished to go.”
It galled Luke to say as much, pained him to turn over what he considered his responsibility for Emily to Jefferson, but he had to protect his students.
Emily wiped at the mud on her face. “I’m sorry. That was selfish and ungrateful of me. Of course you should take care of the kids. Thank you, Jefferson. Now, how are we going to do this?”
Luke reached out with both hands to brush Emily’s bedraggled hair from her face. Despite Jefferson’s watchful presence, he cupped her face.
“I will see you as soon as possible, Emily,” he said.
She covered his hands with her own.
He looked at Jefferson and nodded. “Go now,” he said.
Jefferson slipped his arm around Emily’s waist and guided her across the flow on their hands and knees. The oozing mud threatened to engulf them, and Luke called out.
“Get down on your stomachs!”
They complied and worked their way across the flow to reach the other side. Once clear of the mudflow, Luke saw Jefferson help Emily to a standing position.
His heart ached that he could not be the one to help her, but he would never have forgiven himself if the students had left the school in his extended absence and thought it quite a lark to attempt to cross the mudslide.
He waved and turned to crawl back off the mound of mud. Once free, he looked over his shoulder to see Jefferson supporting Emily away down the road. Her clothing looked heavy, and his heart went out to her.
He could do nothing for her at that moment though, and he resolutely turned his back and ran toward the school as fast as his own mud-encased shoes and trousers would allow. His jacket pocket bounced, and he felt Emily’s balled-up sandwich. He vowed to eat it, no matter what.
Chapter Eighteen
“I’m buried in mud!” Emily protested as Jefferson had to support her back down the road toward the boardinghouse. Each step in her caked shoes, each lift of a leg against the weight of her soaked muddy skirts was excruciating. If Jefferson had been another foot taller and fifty pounds bulkier, she would have begged him to carry her.
“No, you were buried in mud, my dear. No longer! But I too am having difficulty walking given all the mud on my shoes and clothing. It is not helpful that the road is saturated and difficult to traverse.”
“Thank you for helping me, Jefferson,” she said. “How did you and Luke find me? How did you know I was there?”
“I stopped by the boardinghouse to grab something to eat, as I missed breakfast, and Martha told me you had left with plans to take something to Luke since he too did not eat. The storm regenerated after my arrival, and Martha worried for your safety in the weather. I told her I would follow you and return you to Dr. Cook’s house. I saw the tree fall and the mud sliding at just about the time that I saw you try to run.
“I cannot tell you how terrified I was when I saw the mud cover you. I lost sight of you, and that is when Luke appeared, having run over from the school. I do not think he realized that it was you buried in the mud.”
Emily recalled the expression of relief—and something else—on Luke’s face when they had finally freed her head. Her heart swelled when she recalled his tender touch on her face, his “my love” endearment.
When the mud hit her, she had instinctively raised her arms to protect her face. The mud must have grabbed her coat and flung it over her head, creating some sort of air pocket. She had no idea how long she could have managed, but she didn’t think for long. She had already struggled to breathe as panic set in.
“Thank you again, Jefferson. Do you think you could get me back to Jeremiah’s right now? I need a bath.”
“Yes, of course. We will have to pass through town on the way. I am certain that the sight of me toting a bedraggled woman down the streets will cause comment. Do you mind?”
“I don’t care,” Emily said. “Not one little bit. You should probably tell people that the road is closed anyway.”
“I will.”
Jefferson was right. As he supported her through town, people emerged from shops and businesses to inquire about what had happened and to ask if they co
uld help. Most seemed surprised to hear about the mudslide, and some stepped into the muddy streets to survey the partial collapse of the hill near the school.
“Thank goodness the school was spared,” Emily heard one man say.
“The poor girl! Buried in the mud? Have you ever heard the like?” another woman said. “She’s lucky to be alive!”
“That is the new helper at Martha’s boardinghouse,” another was heard to say. “I think she’s staying with Dr. Cook and his wife.”
“The road is closed due to a mudslide,” Jefferson called out more than once. “You can see it from the middle of the street.”
“Oh goodness, what happened to her?” another woman asked.
“Is the school okay? Where are the children?”
“Mr. Damon and the other teachers are tending to them,” Jefferson called out. “You can count on Mr. Damon. He saw the mudslide. He’ll see them safely home.”
Eventually they made it through the downtown area and turned onto Lakefront Lane. Katherine saw them and ran out to her picket fence gate. Her children followed, but she kept them just inside the fence.
“What happened, Emily? Did you fall?”
Emily shook her head tiredly. Running the gauntlet through town had been difficult, and she was exhausted. Yet she had every intention of returning to the boardinghouse that evening to help Martha with dinner. It was her job. She understood she would be justifiably excused that evening, and she would miss seeing Luke if she did.
She just wanted to go home, bathe, nap and get back on her feet. Fortunately for her, the children, who kept opening the gate, distracted Katherine. Clearly she didn’t want them running into the muddy road.
“Mudslide,” Emily said tiredly. “Jefferson will tell you.”
Jefferson came through, explaining about the mudslide.
“What? Are you kidding? That’s awful! What can I do to help?”
“Nothing for now. I’ll tell you about it later,” Emily said. “I’m just going to go home now.”
“I understand, Emily. I’ll let you go. Kids, run inside now. Take your shoes off!” The children scampered off to the house, and Katherine watched Jefferson and Emily work their way down the road.
Jefferson supported Emily to the Cooks’ house, where Leigh waited on the porch. She too ran out to the street.
“Emily! I’ve been worried about you. What happened? I would have told you to stay home this morning had I known it was going to rain so hard. Jefferson! Is she all right?”
“Mudslide,” Emily said yet again. “I got caught in a mudslide up by the school.”
“What?” Leigh shrieked. She pulled open the gate. “A mudslide! What were you doing up there?”
“I went to take Luke some food.”
“She was actually buried under the slide, Leigh. She is fortunate to be alive.”
“Buried? Oh, Emily!” Despite Emily’s filthy condition, Leigh slipped an arm around Emily’s waist along with Jefferson, to help her up the steps.
“You’ll get mud on you,” Emily protested.
“Tell me about the mudslide, Jefferson. Is the school all right? The kids? Teachers?”
“The mudslide was on the road near the school but further east than the property. Fortunately, no houses were caught up in it.”
Jeremiah and Mrs. Jackson came outside, and the process of explanation began all over again. Everyone helped Emily in, but she resisted stepping into Jeremiah’s office for an examination.
“Can I take a bath first?” she asked.
“Given that you are in safe hands, I will return to the boardinghouse and bathe,” Jefferson said.
“Thank you, Jefferson!” Leigh said. “Thank you for bringing her home.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“He saved me actually,” Emily said. “Jefferson and Luke saved my life. I was buried under the mud, and they dug me out.”
She stood in the middle of the foyer wishing she were in a hot bath. She felt cold and shaky.
“I will run the tub for you,” Mrs. Jackson said. “And a cup of tea. Would you like some tea, Mr. Lundrum?”
“No, thank you. Martha will have heard about the mudslide by now and will be worried. I should get back. I will come and check on Emily later, if I may.”
Mrs. Jackson dashed off in the direction of the kitchen.
“No need to come back, Jefferson,” Emily said. “You’ll see me at the boardinghouse for dinner.”
“What?” Everyone in unison asked.
“No, I won’t allow it!” Jefferson said. “Not after what you have been through. You need rest.”
“Emily!” Leigh protested. “No one would expect you to work after what happened. Not today!”
“I agree, Emily. You need time to recover,” Jeremiah offered, although his response was more measured.
Emily looked up at Jefferson, still holding her.
“What do you mean you ‘won’t allow it,’ Jefferson?” Emily snapped. “I work for Martha!”
She knew what they were saying was right, but she couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing Luke.
“I own the boardinghouse as well, Emily,” Jefferson said in a softer tone. “Martha will manage as she has always done. You need to recuperate. You almost lost your life.”
“I’m fine,” Emily whined, knowing she had lost the battle.
“Thank you for everything, Jefferson,” Leigh said. “Come upstairs, Emily. We’ll get you cleaned up, dry and into bed.”
Emily felt powerless against the three, a familiar feeling with first her mother and then Carl. She gave in and said goodbye to Jefferson. Jeremiah followed him out to the porch, and Leigh helped Emily remove her boots, a long task given the amount of mud on them. She took Emily’s lifesaving raincoat and dropped it on top of the boots.
Mrs. Jackson returned with a cup of tea in time to follow Leigh as she supported an exhausted Emily up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom. The housekeeper set the tea down on the sink and turned the taps to fill the tub while Leigh peeled clothing from Emily’s increasingly cold body. The tub was full by the time Leigh finished. Too tired to be bashful, Emily stepped into the tub and allowed the warmth to sooth her cold bones. She started to shiver unexpectedly, her entire body shaking.
“Emily!” Leigh cried out. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Emily chattered. “I can’t stop shaking.”
“Mrs. Jackson, get Jeremiah!”
Mrs. Jackson ran out of the bathroom, and Emily wrapped her arms around her chest.
“Wait!” Emily edged out between her teeth. “No, he can’t come in here!”
“He’s a doctor, Emily! I don’t know what’s happening to you or what to do. Are you cold?” She took a dry towel and wrapped it around Emily’s shoulders.
The shaking increased so much that Emily could hardly talk. She barely heard footsteps running down the hall. Jeremiah arrived at the bathroom and looked at her. He checked her forehead, felt the pulse in her wrist and looked up.
“Mrs. Jackson, does that tea have sugar?”
“No, Dr. Cook.”
“Get some sugar for the tea, please.” He turned to Leigh. “Let’s heat this water up a bit more.”
“What’s wrong with her, Jeremiah? Is she going into shock?” Leigh asked as she turned on the hot water.
“No, not shock. I think it is just a reaction to her experiences. Her blood sugar might be low. She will be fine when she is warmer.”
Emily nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated.
“Yes, I think she will,” Jeremiah said. “Her adrenaline is probably receding. That can cause shaking after trauma. I will examine her after she has finished bathing.”
“Can I wash her hair?” Leigh asked.
“Yes, that will be fine. Just make sure she stays warm and drinks the tea with sugar. I will leave you to your privacy. Summon me when you are finished.”
He left, and Mrs. Jackson returned with a bowl of sugar. Sh
e ladled some sugar into the tea, and Leigh handed the tea to Emily. Emily tried to hold the cup, but her hands shook so much that Leigh took the cup and helped her drink. Eventually, Emily’s shaking subsided, and she slumped down into the bathtub
“Are you ready to wash your hair?” Leigh asked.
“Yes,” Emily said, feeling too drained even to lift her hands to wash her face. Since Jeremiah had mentioned adrenaline, she recognized that her exhaustion was the normal feeling after adrenaline receded. She had felt it before during encounters with her mother and Carl.
Leigh soaped Emily’s hair and massaged her scalp, a soothing sensation that almost put Emily to sleep.
“I probably do need to sleep,” Emily said with regret. She didn’t know what time it was, but it seemed likely that she could not sleep and make it back to Martha’s house to help with dinner. She realized that she was obsessing over something that seemed very insignificant to others, but it wasn’t insignificant to her. She wanted to see Luke, and she didn’t know how that would happen. She supposed she could wait until she returned to the boardinghouse in the morning—however many hours away that was.
“Yes, I think you do. We’ll let Jeremiah check you out, then you can get some rest,” Leigh said. She rinsed Emily’s hair and held out a towel. With effort, Emily rose from the tub on weak legs.
“I’m wiped out,” Emily said in some surprise.
“I’ll bet,” Leigh said. “You’ll have to tell me all about it, but not now. I think it would be best if you didn’t dwell on it anymore tonight.”
Leigh produced a nightgown that Mrs. Jackson had dropped off, and she helped Emily into it. They made their way down to Emily’s bedroom, where Emily crawled into bed, her wet hair wrapped up in a towel.
“Let me go get Jeremiah to look you over, then I’ll comb your hair out,” Leigh said.
Emily nodded and lay down on the bed to await their return. Her last thought before subsiding into sleep was a hope that Luke was warm and clean as well.
Chapter Nineteen
Emily awakened to a tap on her door. Mrs. Jackson opened the door, carrying a tray.
“Good morning, dear,” she said, setting the tray down on the table by the window.