by Marta Perry
There were a few more things to do, but she could deal with them later. She shoved the drug box into her trunk for safety and slipped her cell phone in her pocket.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Manuela followed her silently toward the path that skirted the hillside, leading toward the housing facility. It was so quiet here; no one would guess that on the far side of the rounded, wooded mountain, there was a busy interstate, leading out to the wider world. Sometimes she felt as if they were cocooned in their little world.
If she didn’t do something, Manuela would be leaving this world, going on to the unknown—to another migrant camp where she might or might not find a welcome.
Are we wrong, Lord, to try and keep her here for a while? I know it might be hard for her to be away from her family, but she has such a thirst for knowledge. It seems wrong to deny her this chance.
She glanced at the girl. Manuela walked with her head down, her gaze fixed on her feet. All of her bright confidence seemed to have fled, leaving her lost and resigned to whatever life might hand her.
“It’s going to be all right.” She spoke as much to reassure herself as Manuela. “You’ll see.”
Manuela just shook her head, her black braids swinging.
The poor kid—what must she be feeling? They’d held out to her the promise of a path toward the education she longed for, and now that hope had been dashed.
They emerged from the trees and approached the cement block buildings. A quick glance showed Terry that Jake and the translator hadn’t arrived yet, but Mel Jordan, the crew chief, swung around at their approach, staring at them with narrowed eyes.
“What are you doing here?” He shot a look from her to Manuela. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
Temper, temper. Her mother was always telling her she had to learn to control herself. She forced a smile to her face. “I’m here to talk with Manuela’s parents.”
“They don’t want to talk to you. They don’t like interfering outsiders.”
“I’ll let them tell me that.” She moved to go around him, but he stepped into her path.
She’d dealt with recalcitrant patients and violent drunks on duty. She wouldn’t be intimidated by him. “Please get out of my way.”
“How are you going to make me?”
The sound of a car engine answered him. Terry looked up to see Jake’s car pulling into the graveled lot in front of the dorms, and a wave of relief went through her.
“I don’t think I’ll have to.”
Jordan shot a balked, annoyed look at the car and then turned and stalked away.
Jake got out and came toward her, followed by Maria. “Trouble?” He frowned, as if to say he couldn’t trust her alone for more than a minute at a time.
“Not now.” She smiled at the nurse. “Thanks for coming out, Maria.”
“My pleasure.” Maria shoved a lock of dark hair back from her face. She must have come straight from work, because she wore hospital scrubs. “Manuela is a dear. I’m happy to help.”
“Let’s get this done,” Jake said briskly. “Manuela, will you come in with us?”
Manuela shook her head, taking a step back. “My father—he would not change his mind in front of me.”
“Okay.” Terry squeezed her hand, understanding. Manuela’s culture was different from that of the typical American teenager.
Terry followed Jake and Maria into the large, square room, which had been filled with the aroma of cooking the last time she’d been here. Today it looked dusty and deserted. Deserted, except for one person—Manuela’s father sat at one of the rickety wooden tables, as if waiting for them.
Terry took a breath, suddenly shaky. Please, Lord.
Jake took the lead, and she was happy to let him. With Maria translating, he told Mr. Ortiz what their plans were—how happy they’d be to have Manuela stay with them so she could go to school. That they’d bring her to meet them when it was time for the family to return to Mexico. That they’d make sure she was safe and happy.
And she knew it was no good. She might not understand the words Maria spoke to him, but she understood his response. No. No matter what Maria said to him, the answer was the same. No.
Maria finally turned back to them, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. It’s no good. He doesn’t trust us, and I suppose he can’t be blamed for that. He says Manuela is needed to help her mother. He fears that if she stays, even for a couple of months, she won’t want to go back.”
Manuela’s father rose, shoving his chair back. His face stoic, he turned and stalked into the back room.
“That’s it then.” Jake’s face was bleak. “We’d better tell Manuela.”
“What’s wrong with you? We can’t give up that easily.” Her fists clenched. Didn’t Jake see how important this was?
“There’s nothing we can do.” It almost sounded as if he pitied her. “We’ve tried everything possible.”
“Not everything.” Her mind scrambled to come up with some other solution. “Maybe if we took them to see my parents, he’d see that we don’t mean any harm. Or maybe Mr. Dixon could speak to him. He might listen to him.”
“No.” The pity was eaten up by what sounded like frustration. “Give it up, Terry. It’s over, and you’ll only make it harder for Manuela if you keep holding out false hope.”
She wanted to argue, but his words hit home. Her throat tightened. “I’m afraid we’ve already done that.”
He gripped her shoulder for a moment, his touch conveying sympathy and support. “Do you want me to tell her?”
“No. I will.” This had been her idea. She’d have to accept the responsibility for this failure.
“I have to drive Maria back to town. Are you going to be all right?”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. Manuela would leave, to be lost in the stream of migrant workers. And it looked as if Jake would leave, too. She was going to be all right, but she’d be a long time filling the hole they’d left in her heart.
She followed Jake and Maria outside and watched while they drove away. Then she looked around for Manuela.
There was no sight of her, but the sound of childish voices led her around the side of the building. Juan, Manuela’s little brother, was playing with a couple of older children.
She squatted next to him. “Hey, Juan. Where’s Manuela?” The boy’s English had improved immensely in the past few weeks. Surely he could understand that.
For a moment, Juan’s face was stolid, as expressionless as his father’s had been, as if he were a little old man, inured to the blows of life. Then his face puckered.
“She go.” He pointed toward the narrow logging road that led over the mountain, towards the interstate. “She go up there when she wants to be by herself.” His face puckered. “I want her to come back.”
Chapter Fifteen
She wanted her to come back, too. Terry’s heart hurt at the thought of the girl alone someplace in the woods, crying. “When Dr. Jake comes back, tell him where I went. Okay?” She gestured to herself and to the path, hoping he understood. Then she started up the trail.
She glanced at her watch. Nearly four. At least, in early September, she wasn’t going to run out of daylight anytime soon. She hadn’t attempted to find out from Juan how long Manuela had been gone. The little boy’s English wouldn’t have been up to that. In any event, they hadn’t spent more than twenty minutes with Mr. Ortiz.
Poor Manuela. She must have guessed how their interview with her father would go. So she was running off and hiding, like an injured animal. She was only sixteen and acting on emotion, not common sense. She depended on the adults in her life for that, and they seemed to be letting her down.
Please, Lord. Manuela is out there alone, and I have to reach her. Please, lead me to her, and give me the right words to say to her when I find her.
The hill grew steeper, and the logging road disintegrated to a shallow wash filled with last year’s dead leaves. Manuela had gone up
here before. There should be nothing to worry about, but fear was chilling her, as if to warn her.
The signal strength flickered from one bar to none. She punched in the number, but it went straight to Jake’s voice mail. Static crackled in her ear.
“Manuela’s disappeared. Juan says she goes up into the woods to be alone. I’ve gone after her.” She hesitated, not wanting to sound irrational. “Please come. I need you.”
She flipped the phone closed, feeling marginally better, and focused on forcing her aching legs up the trail. Afternoon sunlight, slanting through the trees, gave the woods an almost golden glow. The sumac bushes that grew along the trail had already donned their fall color. Autumn was on its way, summer slipping imperceptibly away.
She stopped, pressing her hand against her side, catching her breath. She listened, but no sound broke the silence except the faint twittering of birds. It couldn’t be far to the crest of the ridge. Surely Manuela wouldn’t go farther than that.
“Manuela! Manuela, can you hear me? It’s Terry.”
Nothing. Maybe she’d heard and didn’t want to answer. She probably thought Terry had already failed her.
The taste of that failure filled Terry’s mouth. Manuela was right. Terry had held out a promise to her that she hadn’t been able to fulfill.
Please, Father. I want so much to make up for this. Let me find a way to help her now.
It was harder and harder to climb. Terry scrambled to the slight ridge along the side of the log drag. The footing was firmer there, but rocky and treacherous with the tangle of tree roots that forced their way to the surface.
She slowed for a moment, trying to orient herself. Ahead was the top of the ridge. It would slope down fairly quickly on the other side. She couldn’t believe Manuela would go that far.
“Manuela! Come on, if you can hear me, let me know.” Again nothing. Maybe Manuela had gone back to the camp already, and she was foolishly overreacting.
Terry’s breath caught. Was that the cry of a bird? It almost sounded—
“Help! Help me!”
Manuela! Terry charged toward the sound, heart thumping. “Manuela, where are you? I’m coming. Keep calling out.”
“Help…”
The voice seemed fainter, but it gave Terry enough direction. She cut to the right, scrambling as fast as she could up the increasingly rocky slope. Another wordless sob sent her hurtling ahead.
She stopped, heart pounding, grabbing the rough trunk of a hemlock tree. Beyond the tree, a ravine cut through the ridge top, as sharp as a knife slice. Clutching the tree, she leaned forward, scanning the steep tumble of rocks and gravel. A few small trees grew out at odd angles from the wall of the ravine.
At the bottom—her breath caught. At the bottom lay a small crumpled figure. The instinct that sent her here was true.
“Manuela, it’s all right. I’m coming.” Please, God. Let her be all right.
She forced herself to concentrate. She had to look at this as a professional, as if the victim were a stranger, not a girl she’d come to care for. Anything else invited hasty decisions and increased the chance of making a mistake.
She yanked out her cell phone, but as soon as she glanced at it, she knew she was on her own. No signal. No help. Just her skill and caring.
Quickly she assessed the scene. If she attempted to climb down directly above the girl, she’d risk sending a shower of rocks and gravel right down on her. She’d have to take a slower, more roundabout route.
“Manuela, I’m on my way down. How are you? Talk to me.” Was she conscious? She had to get to her, stabilize her, then find some way of getting help.
A low moan was the only answer. Adrenaline pumping, Terry hurried her pace—scramble down a few feet, stop and assess the next step, then go on. She had no equipment with her, just her hands and her knowledge.
“Come on, Manuela, talk to me.”
She was close enough to see the twisted way the girl sprawled. That leg was probably fractured.
“It hurts.”
Relief spread through her at the sound of Manuela’s voice. Praise God, she wasn’t unconscious.
“I know it hurts, honey.” She slid down the last few feet, picking up an assortment of scrapes and scratches, and raced across the rough ground to drop to her knees next to the girl. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here now.”
Manuela didn’t attempt to move, but her gaze focused on Terry’s face and clung there. “You came.”
“Of course I came.”
She kept her voice calm even as her heart twisted. Quickly she assessed the damage. No bleeding, and Manuela was conscious, but her breathing was shallow, her pulse rapid. Her first instinct was to immobilize the spine, but she had nothing to work with.
“Tell me where it hurts.”
“My leg.” Manuela gasped the words. “And my chest.” She gestured slightly toward her ribs on the right side.
“How about your head?”
“It’s okay.”
She moved her hands lightly over the small body, feeling helpless without her usual equipment. Still, it was her knowledge and skill Manuela needed now. The right leg was definitely fractured, but she was more concerned with the ribs. Probably a fracture there, as well, and in a place where it could so easily puncture a lung.
She touched the girl’s face gently. “You’re going to be all right. Believe me. I’m going to immobilize your leg, and then I’ll have to go for help.”
Manuela’s eyes widened, and she grasped Terry’s arm. “Don’t leave me.”
“Honey, I wouldn’t if I had any choice. But I need help getting you out of here safely, and my cell phone isn’t working this deep in the woods. There’s nothing else to do. You trust me, don’t you?”
The girl’s gaze clung to hers. Slowly, she nodded.
Am I doing the right thing? Please, Lord, show me. I don’t want to leave her alone, but I don’t see what else I can do.
“Okay, then.” She squeezed Manuela’s hand. “All you have to do is stay perfectly still. Right?”
“Right.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face.
Terry’s heart clenched again. Manuela was a fighter. She wouldn’t give up easily, no matter how hard the battle.
It took a few minutes to immobilize the girl as best she could, using broken branches and strips torn from the tail of her shirt. And all the while her brain was ticking away the moments from finding the victim to getting her to the hospital. Too many minutes. Manuela needed more care than she could provide in this situation.
From now on, Father, I’m not going anyplace without a decent first aid kit.
When she’d done everything she could, she hesitated for a moment, then bent and kissed Manuela’s forehead. “Be a brave girl, and I’ll be back before you know it. God be with you.”
“And with you,” Manuela whispered.
Terry had to force herself to let go. No choices, she reminded herself. Manuela needed help, and she had to bring it. It would take time to get a unit here, more time to maneuver a gurney into the ravine and out again. That had to be done while they still had daylight to work by.
Jake, I wish you were here.
She turned toward the hill and began to climb, as quickly as possible. Trying to climb away from the doubt that pursued her.
Was she doing the right thing? Had she exhausted every other option? Even when she knew she had no other choice, the habit of self-questioning had burned so deeply that she couldn’t shake it off.
She grabbed a drooping branch of the hemlock and used it to pull herself up the last few yards. She hesitated, still hanging on, and looked down at Manuela. The girl looked so small, lying there. Pain gripped her heart.
Lord, this is my fault. If I hadn’t encouraged her, it never would have happened. She’d be safe with her family.
She took a breath, pinned a smile to her face, and waved down at the girl. Regrets couldn’t help Manuela now. Only action could.
“Remember, stay v
ery still. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Manuela wiggled her fingers.
That was the image she’d carry with her. Terry turned and scrambled down toward the trail. Not images of failure. The image of a brave girl who relied on her. Trusted her. She wouldn’t let her down.
She slithered down the last few yards of rocky slope and landed on the low ridge of ground that bordered the logging trail. Her feet found balance and she began to hurry, afraid to run where the ground was still so rough. If she fell and became immobilized, who would help Manuela then?
You would fail her. That insidious voice whispered in the back of her mind. You would fail again.
She tried to ignore it, but the doubt began to creep through her. She hit a patch of dead leaves, slid and fetched up against the trunk of an oak tree, breathing hard and clutching it.
You’re okay. She tried to still her frazzled nerves. Don’t think about how near you came to falling. Just do the job that is set in front of you.
She scrambled down a few more yards, searching for solid ground beneath her feet. Once she reached that, she could begin to run. But her breath was coming in gasps, and her leg muscles had begun to shake from the exertion.
Please, Lord. Please. I have to get help.
The words Brendan had spoken earlier seemed to form in her mind, as if in answer to her frenzied prayer.
Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.
She knew, only too well, the weight of self-doubt that hampered her, and the sin of giving in to that, setting snares for her feet. But she was not alone. She was never truly alone. Calm flowed through her in a cleansing wave.
She took a breath, feeling the weight roll off her, and hastened her steps, gaining sureness with every stride. The ground became firmer under her feet, and she began to jog, then to run, the trees hurrying past as she kept her eyes on the goal and her mind on her Lord.