An Irresistible Impulse

by Barbara Delinsky

  “Brian!” Ben yelled, cupping his hands to his mouth. Just then, Ray came on the run, took the situation in at a glance, and dropped down on the other side of Abby. “Brian!” Ben tried again.

  At first there was no answer. The man on the slope simply shifted his limbs gingerly. When Ben called a third time though, he looked up.

  “Yeo…”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anything broken?”

  “Don’t think so.” He sounded more shaken than hurt.

  “Can you move everything?”

  Abby held her breath while Brian stretched again. He was sitting up now…a good sign.

  “Yeah.” There was an undeniable element of disgust in his voice. He was obviously embarrassed. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he struggled for a foothold. But his running shoes were as useless for grasping the slippery turf as Abby’s had been for keeping her dry. With one step forward, he slid back two. A second attempt was even worse.

  Hearts pounded all around as the five on top kept their eyes glued to the solitary figure below. When Brian tried crawling, each of the five cheered for him silently. But again there was nothing to hold on to. The wall of the ravine, its grass slicked down by the steadily falling rain, offered no more traction than a sheet of ice set at a seventy-degree angle to the earth.

  “Damn it,” Ray cursed softly, then raised his voice. “Try again!”

  It was hopeless, as Johannsen confirmed when, having been alerted by the shouts, he retraced his own steps. Quickly instructing Brian to stay put, he turned grimly to Ray.

  “If he tries it again, he’s apt to fall further. And if he hits those rocks on the slide, he may get hurt. My rope isn’t long enough to reach him, and there’s no way he can scale the wall without some kind of help.” He shook his head in concern. “I’ll have to go ahead down the mountain and bring help back.”

  Ben joined the conference. “How about the side wall? Can he move laterally and get a footing?”

  The guide sighed. “Not on that slate. It could be worse than the grass in this rain.”

  “And there’s no other way out of the ravine?” Abby interjected, standing now beside Ben.

  Again Peter shook his head. “See for yourself. There are walls on three sides and a treacherous downhill stretch ahead. And this ravine is only piggy-backed on another. No. We’d be better to pull him up.”

  Ray swore again, looked at his watch, and frowned. “We’re less than halfway down the mountain. It’ll take nearly four more hours to get down and back.”

  “We’ve got no choice,” the guard stated quietly. “And the sooner I get going, the better.”

  It was Ray’s responsibility, Ray’s decision to make. With a grimace, he nodded. “You’re right. Okay.” He scratched his head, trying to work out the logistics of the rescue mission. Ben was one up on him.

  “I’m staying here,” he said. “You go ahead with the others.”

  “No!” All eyes turned to Abby. “I’m staying too.”

  But if her tone had been firm, Ben’s was no less so. “Oh, no, you’re not! You’re cold and wet and there’s no need for you to be exposed to this for another four hours.”

  “I’m staying.”

  “Abby, Ben may be right,” Ray began, but she’d made up her mind.

  “I’m staying. There are plenty of trees over there for shelter, and you can bring warm things with you when you come back.”

  “Besides, she’s a nurse!” From out of nowhere, Patsy materialized to stand beside Peter. “It might be wise if she were here.”

  Abby’s smile held instant gratitude. “Right!” she exclaimed, having totally overlooked that factor in her eagerness to keep Ben company.

  “Are you sure?” Ray asked.

  “She’s going down with you!” Ben interceded, his eyes reflecting the ominous gray of the skies.

  Ray looked around the group in a calculating fashion. “She may have a point though. It would probably be better to have two of you here. And since she’s a nurse…”

  “Yeo…!” The distant voice came from deep in the ravine as a sharp reminder of their problem.

  Ben dropped to his knees and inched forward again. “We’re getting help, Brian. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Just wondering whether I’d been left for dead.”

  Ben chuckled. “Not quite,” he called. “The others are going down to get a rescue team. I’m staying here…with Abby….”

  Though the last was said on a reluctant note, Abby knew she’d won. Within minutes, she and Ben were alone on the trail.

  Only then did he turn to her, his hands on his hips. “This is really dumb. You know that you’ll only get more chilled.”

  “And you won’t?” She pulled on the hat and mittens that Patsy had insisted on leaving with her. “Why is it that much worse for me than for you?”

  “I’m a man. I’m more solid. I can fight it off better than you can. And, in spite of everything, there really isn’t a need for two of us.” He sighed. “You should have gone down with them, Abby.”

  “Too late,” she sing-songed, then looked around for the best shelter. It appeared in the form of a broad fir just opposite where Brian had fallen. Its branches were dense, its trunk sturdy. Under its cover they’d be relatively shielded from the rain.

  Ben called a word of encouragement down to Brian before joining Abby against the trunk of the tree. “Why does this seem familiar?” he murmured. He was still annoyed; she could hear it in his voice.

  “It was an oak tree then,” she mused, recalling that first Thursday night. They’d talked, then argued. Perhaps it would be the reverse now. “How’s Brian doing?”

  “He’s fine. The only thing bruised is his ego. This won’t exactly help his image….”

  His voice trailed off into a silence broken only by the steady beat of the rain. Abby shivered.

  “You’re cold?”

  “No. I was just thinking of poor Brian. He’s totally exposed out there. Do you think he’s in any danger?”

  “Not if he stays still. He’s pretty sturdy.” He paused, then cupped his mouth and yelled, “Are you there, Brian?”

  “I’m here,” came the voice of defeat from far down the embankment.

  “Poor guy,” Abby murmured again. “He must feel awful sitting there so helplessly.”

  Ben chuckled. “I know the feeling.”

  “You do?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well…what happened?”

  Brushing a hand through his damp hair, he looked down at her. “I don’t think I should tell you. It might ruin my image.”

  “Come on, Ben. I already know that you can’t find your way out of a cornfield with your eyes closed. What could be worse?”

  “Skiing?”

  “Uh-oh. I assumed that you had learned how to ski.”

  “I know how now. But when I first moved here I had a time of it. After renting all of the right equipment and taking a week’s worth of lessons, I thought I had a handle on it. That last afternoon I decided to try a new trail….”

  Abby’s voice lowered to an expectant whisper. “What happened?”

  “Oh, I did fine on the ski lift. But that was the extent of my success. Once I got off, I chose the wrong path and ended up on an expert slope.”

  She grimaced. “What did you do?” The sensible thing would have been to walk his way down. Somehow she sensed that that wasn’t what he’d done.

  “I…went down…in more ways than one.”

  “You fell?”

  He nodded, his lips twitching at the corners. “Broke my leg in two places. Mind you, it wasn’t funny at the time. I had to lie there in the middle of that damned slope waiting for the ski patrol…while these magnificent people zipped skillfully past.”

  Abby imagined herself in that situation and spoke the first thought that came to mind. “At least you weren’t with a date.” He winced. “You…were?” He nodded. “Oh, no…
.” She laughed without quite meaning to, then apologized. “I’m sorry, Ben. It must have been awful.”

  Rather than being disturbed, he seemed fascinated by the way her eyes crinkled up when she laughed. “It was,” he replied distractedly. “But…what about you? I’ve confessed to my faults. What are yours?”

  This time it was her nose that crinkled up. “Oh, the usual. You know, I always forget to have the oil checked when I fill my car with gas, I never squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom like the tube says, and if you ever bring me a bunch of flowers, I’ll give them right back to you.”

  “Now why would you do a thing like that?”

  “Because I’m an absolute failure at flower arranging, that’s why! Any man who wants to humiliate me can do it by bringing me flowers.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I’m not the forgiving type. Better remember that!”

  Ben grinned. “I’ll try.” Then he looked out at the rain and called to Brian again. “Holding on, pal?”

  “Holding on….”

  Abby fumbled with the cuff of her jacket in an attempt to uncover her watch. When she saw its small gold face, she shuddered. “We’ve still got an awfully long way to go.”

  “Are you cold?”

  “No, I’m not cold! You keep asking me that.” When she met his gaze, she saw its humor. “Wait a minute. Do you want me to be cold?”

  “Of course not!…Well, not really…. Oh, hell!” He drew her closer. “Come here. I’m cold. You can warm me up.”

  He wasn’t cold at all, she discovered in delight when he unzipped both of their jackets and pulled her against him. His body warmth was the fire they didn’t have and it melded with hers to produce an extraordinary comfort against the elements. She was happy to say nothing, simply to rest against Ben with his arms holding her secure.

  Slowly, the exertion of the day began to take its toll. “I feel as though I’ve had two drinks already,” she murmured against his chest. “I’m so tired.”

  “Just rest then,” he crooned. Tucking her closer, he leaned back more comfortably against the trunk of the tree.

  Abby must have dozed, for she came alive with a jerk when Ben called out to Brian again. Then he lowered his voice. “Sorry about that. I want him to know we’re still here.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

  “You’re exhausted. Not been sleeping well?” His lips were warm against her forehead, reminding her of exactly why she hadn’t slept well.

  “Mmmm…so-so.”

  “Must be a common ailment. Maybe it’s the beds.”

  “I doubt it.” Certainly not…unless one counted the emptiness of them.

  “Or the noise.”

  She quite deliberately rubbed her cheek against his chest when she shook her head. “Not quite.” The inn was like a tomb after ten.

  “Don’t tell me you’re as frustrated as I am,” he growled, half-playful, half-serious.

  Abby didn’t tell him, though it was the truth. How many nights had she lain in bed thinking of him! Where would it end?

  “I think you’re just missing Alexandra,” she teased.

  “As you’re missing Sean?”

  “Touché.”

  And so the banter went. Every few minutes Ben called to Brian; every so often he crept to the edge of the ravine and looked down. Each time he returned to Abby, sodden but no worse for the wear.

  Stranded, Brian went nowhere. The rain continued unabated. The air, though warmer than it had been on the mountaintop, cooled with the progression of the afternoon. Abby overlooked chilled legs and numb feet for the pleasure of curling up against Ben.

  As one hour slowly ticked into two, then three, and the weather seemed if anything to worsen, they spent more time at the edge of the precipice, stretched out flat, doing their best to keep Brian’s—and their own—spirits up. Abby heard stories of Ben’s campus adventures; likewise, she shared the best of her examining room tales.

  Tension inevitably mounted with the fading of daylight. Trying his best to hide his worry, Ben stole glances at his watch when he thought she wasn’t looking. But she saw. Hadn’t she begun to think the same thoughts? How much colder it would be soon, how much more difficult the rescue, how much more tedious the trek down? Hadn’t she begun to shiver uncontrollably and to wonder whether her toes would ever be the same? Hadn’t she begun to fear for Brian, whose exposure to the hostile elements had to be much worse than theirs?

  When Ben’s arms held her now, she felt his uneasiness. When his fingers tucked wet strands of her hair back under her hat, she knew of his anxiety. When he launched into renewed oaths of regret that she’d stayed, she had no choice but to hear his anger.

  Finally, with the coming of darkness, help arrived. Indeed, the rescue was more difficult now. But with the aid of floodlights and cables, it was successfully accomplished, then celebrated with brandy-laced coffee before the long downward hike began.

  By the time Abby finally crawled into bed shortly before midnight, she was chilled through and through. A hot bath had done little to warm her; memories of Ben’s warmth faded quickly. When he knocked on the door, quietly opened it, and came to sit beside her on the bed, she was too occupied with controlling her shivering to analyze his presence.

  “How do you feel?” he asked softly.

  “Freezing.” She burrowed lower beneath the quilt.

  His hand moved gently against her cheek. “You feel warm.”

  “I’m freezing.”

  “I mean warm warm. As in a fever.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Have you taken anything?”

  “No.”

  “Smart lady…for a nurse,” he quipped sarcastically. Then he stood and headed toward the bathroom. “Have you any aspirin?”

  “No.”

  He stopped in his tracks, then redirected them. “I’ve got some. I’ll be right back.” Within seconds he held a cup of water to her lips and insisted that she swallow the two white pills he’d produced. “That’s better. Can I get you anything…some warm milk…brandy?”

  “I’ve already had more than I can stomach.” The Abbotts had plied her with food, and it had done nothing but make her queasy. “I think I’ll just go to sleep.”

  “You’re sure that there’s nothing I can do?”

  She managed a weak grin. “What’s the matter, Ben? Feeling helpless again?”

  “Damn it, yes! You never should have stayed up there with me. I knew it from the start! Now you’re getting sick and since the state doesn’t allow for time off—”

  He’d said more than he’d planned. For the first time Abby opened her eyes wide. “I’ll be dismissed!” she breathed unsteadily.

  “Right.”

  It would all have been in vain? Never! “I’ll be fine in the morning!” she declared. “You’ll see.”

  She wasn’t exactly fine…nor was she deathly ill. If she was paler than usual, her blusher would take care of that. If her bones ached, she could stay off her feet. If her cheeks were warm, there was no one to know. No one…except Ben.

  He poked his head into her room on his way to run, took one look at her, went for more aspirin, and forbade her to move until he returned. She was more than happy to accede, having given up the idea of running the instant the phone had jarred her from a fevered sleep at six. The extra hour’s rest was a must if she was to function that day.

  And it was a must that she function that day. The defense opened its case with a startling revelation. Derek Bradley would admit to having abducted Greta Robinson, to having held her prisoner much as the prosecution had claimed. Rather, his not guilty plea would be based on the defender’s intent to prove temporary insanity. Derek Bradley, obsessed by love, so his counsel declared, had been driven by an irresistible impulse to kidnap Greta Robinson that day so many months before.

  Derek Bradley spent the better part of the week on the witness stand. With each day, tension in the courtroom mounted. An irresistible impulse. It was a legal t
erm, an even more complex psychological term. Following the defendant’s testimony was that of a team of psychiatrists, each flown in from outstanding medical establishments across the country, each supporting the premise that Derek Bradley had been compelled to do what he had done by the force of love. Abby’s feelings were in utter upheaval by the time Friday arrived and the defense rested its case.