Maime frantically met the beleaguered group when they tromped up the cottage steps. Throwing open the door she held her breath as Papa and T.J. entered the toasty front room.
“Where is she?” she asked breathlessly. “Where’s Marie?”
“We’re not sure,” T.J. responded.
“What,” she cried as Papa sent a chilling look T.J.’s way.
“She’s alive. We know she’s been found and is alive,” he said quickly consoling his wife who nearly lost composure at T.J.’s words.
“Then where is she?” she asked pointedly.
“Well, we think she’s with Harry. The men were instructed to fire three shots when they found her,” he said, tactfully leaving out T.J.’s request of two shots if she were found dead. “Three shots were fired way up North ... we think near Harry’s cabin.”
“But ... but that’s miles from where T.J. said he’d taken her,” she cried.
“Yes, I know,” Papa said soothingly.
‘I’m going to Harry’s now,” T.J. said effectively interrupting their discussion.
“I’m going with you,” Maime said quickly.
“No, you need to rest,” T.J. quipped irritably.
“No I don’t, Tim,” Maime responded sharply. “That girl needs me and neither you ... or you,” she said pointing to her husband, “can tell me otherwise”
“Well then, hurry,” T.J. said as he quickly made his way toward the kitchen, hoping to find something warm to drink.
Within minutes T.J. and Maime were racing up the gravel road that led to Harry’s cabin in the old truck. It would take a while to reach the cabin nestled in the heart of the Selkirks. After traveling to the end of the gravel road, the final leg of their journey would traverse some very rough back roads. And then, the last three or so miles would be completed on foot. T.J. worried about Maime’s endurance.
Even after their early start, it was late-morning before Harry’s rustic cabin was in sight. A plume of smoke curled upwards before the dense fog clinging to the surrounding pines enveloped it.
“Thank God,” T.J. cried at the sight. “She’s there, Maime!”
Maime’s breath caught in her throat as she too realized Marie was most likely sheltered within. The hike had been more difficult than she had imagined. Her lungs were burning from the exertion. But just the sight of that encouraging plume sent the adrenaline flowing into her bloodstream, easing the pain caused from stiffened joints and rheumatism.
“Harry,” T.J. yelled when they were very near the cabin.
“You go on ahead,” Maime admonished. “I’m right behind you.”
By the time T.J. reached the front steps, Harry flung open the squeaky cottage door. “T.J!” he exclaimed, “I hoped you would know where to come. She’s here,” he said ushering his friend into the log cabin.
“When you and Sam didn’t return to camp, I realized what must have happened.”
By this time, Maime had gained the front door. “Where is she?” she gasped without preamble.
“She’s not doing well,” Harry said nervously, looking first to Maime and then to T.J. “She’s unconscious,” he said slowly, letting his words absorb. “Sam and I had to carry her out on a stretcher ...”
“What happened,” T.J. barked.
“As far as I can tell,” Harry said continuing to push his friends into the barely furnished front room to close out the frigid air now seeping into the tiny cabin from the open door, “she must have fallen asleep on a big rock along side Granite Creek.”
“What do you mean, ‘fell asleep’?” T.J. inquired. “How could she just fall sleep?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said wearily. “Sam and I had reached Upper Priest. For a while we thought we were on her trail ... broken branches and such ... but then it disappeared. We were standing near the stream contemplating whether we should try it. I just had a feelin’. And, not but a thousand yards up river, there she was, curled into a ball on a rock. We checked her pulse and heartbeat. It was so faint … barely discernable to the naked ear. But Sam and I … we made a stretcher and brought her here. We’ve been sitting by the bed – watching for some sign. So far … nothing,” Harry concluded sadly.
Before Harry had finished his monologue, T.J. had made his way to the only bedroom in the rustic cabin. Softly closing the door behind him, he sank against the warped door. His eyes sought the tiny frame engulfed by mounds of woolen blankets and quilts. Even in the darkness of the room, T.J. could see that something was very wrong.
Slowly he crept over to the bed. Her skin was gray. There were dark circles under her eyes and tremendous swelling above her delicately arched eyebrow. Guilt washed over him again as he realized that he alone was responsible for her condition. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he knelt beside the bed, gingerly placing her tiny cold hand between his. Recriminations screamed through his mind as he brought her hand to his unshaven face. Her limb was so lifeless … so cold. If he didn’t know better, he would think her dead.
“I’m so sorry, Marie. Can you ever forgive me?” he whispered. Pictures of Erika, beautiful, healthy and happy flashed through his memory. Again and again he replayed their last encounter in his mind. “I can’t believe I actually did this to you,” he whispered again to the deathly silence. Emotion welled in his chest as he imagined the fear and, God knows what else, she experienced the night before.
“There is no excuse …” T.J. said earnestly, trying in some way to force her consciousness. “It’s just that I have realized something. Emotions like I’ve never felt before were seizing control of my life. I was afraid. This isn’t how I expected this to happen and certainly not so quickly. What I mean to say,” he continued shifting slightly so that his breath would warm her face, “I guess that I’m falling in love with you. And … I don’t think it’s just a passing thing. It is becoming so deep … so real. And, if you never wake up … I can never make things right … I can never tell you how I feel. It means,” he pleaded squeezing her tiny limp palm earnestly, “It means that I have wasted so much time. And I don’t think I could ever forgive myself …”
Finally, T.J.’s voice broke in this middle of his litany. After a few moments of broken sobs, T.J. raised his eyes as he felt a very, very slight movement in her hand. Holding his breath, he waited for another sign. There was none.
As T.J.’s mind began to clear from the events of the last twenty-four hours, he realized Erika’s desperate need for medical attention. He gently placed a small kiss on Erika’s forehead before returning to his friends waiting in the next room.
“Maime, she is in desperate need of attention,” he said with great concern. “Unfortunately, there is no way to bring in a medical team. A chopper couldn’t navigate this dense fog. Maime,” he said desperately searching her concerned eyes, “you’ve treated all of us from one time or another. Though I admit we were hellions, we were never as critically injured as Marie is. But you have more expertise than the three of us put together. You are her only hope.”
“Yea,” Harry agreed. “If anyone can do it, it’ll be you, Maime. But all of us,” he said glancing around the room for nods of approval, “will do everything we can to help.”
“Thank you, men. We are all going to have to pull together,” she said simply.
“It appears that she did somethin’ to her ankle … and maybe even her leg,” Harry continued. “It wobbled very badly when we moved her. In fact, Sam and I both think that she’s gotten worse since we moved her from that rock. If you ask us,” Harry continued seeking Sam’s nod, “we think you shouldn’t move her at all.”
“Well, I have brought some of my herbs,” Maime said, “and a whole lot of experience with broken and sprained limbs thanks to you and your family, T.J., so if you will excuse me gentlemen, I have work to do,” she finished confidently.
Maime reached the darkened room and paused just inside the doorway. She squinted at the unconscious form lying on the bed. Her confidence wavered slightly as she
studied her patient. She had prayed for better conditions. It was true that she had treated many people. Marie, however, was in the worst shape of any. It would take everything she knew and a whole lot of prayer to make any difference in her condition.
After several hours, Maime had turned Harry’s bedroom into something of a sick room. The men had helped to scrub and clean everything to her satisfaction. And then, she had shooed them away. She couldn’t work with them constantly hanging around the door, inquiring ... worrying. She had to focus on one thing ... to bring life back to her patient.
For hours, she worked with tireless intensity, preparing salves for the scrapes and bruises, bandages for Erika’s ankle and shoulder. The day was waning when she painfully stretched her tired back.
Maime shifted restlessly to pace in front of the bedroom window, which afforded a perfect view of the lake and the trail leading to Harry’s cabin. It had been hours since the men had left with a list of supplies they were to gather. To make matters worse, the fog had not lifted all day and the cold frosty air had settled in.
Harry’s cabin had no running water or heat. He had brought in electricity and telephone lines to fuel the computer he used to run his eastern companies. But he hadn’t afforded the luxury of heat. The only warmth came from the oversized stone fireplace. Normally, it was sufficient to heat the tiny cabin but today, it seemed that nothing would break the chill inside. Maime had continuously fueled the fire with the split cedar logs Harry had neatly stacked in the brick wood box. But it was to no avail.
“No wonder his wife left him,” she had muttered when the fire’s heat didn’t reach beyond the front room. “Stingy is what it is,” she spat angrily.
Hour after hour Maime had warmed Erika’s bed with bricks she had left baking in the stone hearth. She knew her patient’s life depended on the warmth from its flames. So far ... there had been no sign that any of Maime’s healing tactics was working.
As the sky turned a fantastic shade of deep bronze and purple, Maime grew tired of the magnificent view and of her continual watch for the men. The quiet was deafening. The only sound breaking the silence was Harry’s antique mantel clock, which noisily ticked at one-second intervals, chiming at half-hour segments. Maime found great comfort in its dependability, as if somewhere there was order in a world that had been turned upside-down.
In a few minutes, the clock would chime again. Time, once again, to check Erika’s pulse and her temperature, which had dropped seriously low. Maime wrapped her wrinkled arms around her waist and tried to pray. It was getting more difficult as the minutes ticked by.
Moving now to the hand-carved rocking chair that she had placed beside the bed, Maime once again collapsed onto the worn wood and said a small prayer. “Please, God. Please help me,” she said rhythmically rocking to the tick of the clock. “I do not have the medical knowledge or the strength to do what this girl, your child, needs me to do. Please, God, please perform a miracle. We all need this little one. Especially Tim, God. He really needs her in his life. Amen.”
As Maime lifted tear-drenched eyes to her patient, she noticed a slight movement. Thinking it must have been the water in her eyes, she quickly wiped away the tears. She bent down low over Erika’s body, studying it, praying for ... something. Still no sound came from the body. It was as still as death itself. “Please, God,” Maime breathed. And as if Erika felt her presence, her eyes began to move beneath closed lids.
“Marie,” Maime called softly. “Are you awake, Marie?” she asked again breathlessly.
Erika’s eyes fluttered and then stilled. Maime began to gently rub her arms, evoking some warmth into her frozen limbs. The caress caused disturbance to Erika’s world. No longer was she able to float in her continuous dream-like state. Far, far off in the distance ... something was happening. Something was touching something near her. She could barely feel the sensation. It was as if layers and layers of material separated her from that loving but persistent touch. Things were happening too fast. The fog was lifting slightly.
Slowly .... slowly, Erika’s eyes fluttered until they opened halfway.
“Marie,” Maime exclaimed. “Oh, Marie, you are awake. It’s all over now, child.”
Erika heard the familiar voice, but she couldn’t place it ... it was just .... just beyond her realm of recognition. Licking her dry and chapped lips, Erika tried to voice her confusion. Her throat felt like sandpaper. The simple moan that escaped her lips caused tears to gather in the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t quite focus on anything. She knew, though, that someone who cared about her was in the room. Slowly, her eyes slid shut. She wouldn’t wake again until noon the following day.
The men came back late that evening armed with enough supplies to last the winter. Dropping the bundles onto the pine kitchen countertops, T.J. quickly pulled Maime aside.
“Any change?” he asked hopefully.
A tender smile formed in the corner of Maime’s eye. Sweet relief rushed over T.J. as he understood her unspoken words.
“Yes, T.J. I think she is beginning to come around,” she said with teary eyes. “I prayed for a miracle ... and I think He’s beginning to answer.”
Whooping a gleeful sound, T.J. caught Maime around her waist and swung her around in delight.
“Now, T.J.,” Maime warned. “It was just a little sign. She is still ... for the most part ... unconscious. But, there was a moment when she began to wake. I rubbed her arms and told her that we love her. I know, T.J. ... I know she could hear me. It’s only a matter of time until she’s her old self again.”
“Can you ...,” T.J. said pointing to the supplies.
Maime nodded before he finished his sentence. “You go. I’ll do this.”
T.J. quietly opened the door to Erika’s darkened room. The shadows under her eyes had darkened and the bruise above her left eyebrow was now purple and yellow. He cringed at the ugly wound. She looked as still as death itself. Maime’s encouraging words now chilled him as he gazed at the still form.
He crept closer, slowly lowering himself onto the old wooden rocking chair positioned close to the bed. There was no sound and no movement.
“Marie, if I could only know that you can hear me,” T.J. whispered into the frosty silence. “I would tell you how sorry I am that we argued … I would tell you how much you mean to me. I would tell you,” he said with a small smile, “how I can’t believe that I could have fallen in love with someone I only met a few weeks ago.”
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched his breath vaporize in the chilly room. Death seemed so near. The silence was deafening. But then … ever so slightly … a quietness settled in the darkness. A quietness that somehow brought an imperceptible warmth. Then … a warming and calming wind gently wafted over his soul. Peace. Sweet peace. It was as if Someone was telling him that it would all be okay. Somehow … T.J. deeply believed that Erika could sense his presence. Maime’s words had brought so much hope. Even if Erika couldn’t understand his voiced confessions, she may feel his love.
T.J. gently enveloped her lifeless hand in his warm grasp and cradled her icy fingers near his roughened and unshaven face. Slowly he gently kissed each finger as he gazed intently at her closed lids for any sign of movement. Maime was so hopeful. T.J. would have to trust her because at the moment, Erika looked as if her hold on life was more fragile than ever.
“You know,” he said softly returning to his monologue, “I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on you. You were this little spitfire. I think it was the fire in your eyes that first attracted me to you,” T.J. said becoming more comfortable with his confessions. “When I finally looked down at the person who had tossed their luggage at me, I was dumbstruck at your beauty. You were … and are … exquisite in every way.”
T.J. paused while reliving their first encounter at the airport so many weeks past. A gentle smile lit his eyes as he remembered the childish and silly tactics he had used to make her acquaintance.
“I never t
hought we would end up here, Marie. I thought … maybe a date or two at the very most. Then,” he continued remembering their conversations in the car on the way to the lake, “I didn’t think I wanted anything to do with you … you have to admit that your stories were outlandish,” he finished chuckling softly.
Gently he placed her hand on top of the downy-soft quilt coverlet. Relaxing into the wooden chair, T.J. spent the many hours before dawn waiting … watching … and praying. Again and again his mind wandered to the secrets she was even now keeping from him. He worried that she had a family that would be pacing a floor somewhere in her absence. He wondered if she would ever trust him … and if they could ever have anything more than just … this.
Maime came into the bedroom two times during the night to check on T.J. and her patient. Each time he had waved her away. Hours later, she returned, reminding him that dawn was approaching.
“Yes, I know,” T.J. responded wearily rubbing his hands over his now almost bearded face. He hadn’t had a chance to shave in two days. “I’ve got to get to L.A. They were expecting me yesterday. If there was any way to put this thing off …”
“I know, honey,” Maime said gently, “but she will understand.”
“I …ugly things to her.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better … she will hardly be herself or even know anything for a few days yet. T.J., I don’t think she will even know if you are here or not,” she finished softly.
T.J. gazed first at Erika and then at Maime. “I know you’re right, but it’s just so hard to leave her like this … especially when I was responsible.”
Gently placing her hand at the back of T.J.’s bent head, Maime quietly consoled him. “She will be okay, T.J. I jus’ believe it in my heart. Besides … with all this love and attention…how can she help but git better?”
Smiling at Maime’s attempted bravado, T.J. grasped her hand. “Okay … you have always known how to make us kids feel better. Just promise me … you will get in touch with me if there’s any change … for better or for worse.”
Whispers of the Heart Page 25