Coming Back For His Bride

by Abigail Gordon

  He did pop into her room on the second day after his mother’s death and surprised her by announcing, ‘I know that it goes without saying you’ll be at the funeral, Izzy, and if you are agreeable I’d like you to be in the first car with Sophie and myself.’

  ‘Me!’ she exclaimed. ‘But I’m not a relation.’

  He had taken her by surprise and in the first moment after he’d asked she’d felt blessed that he wanted her with him, but following quickly on that thought was a vision of her father with a self-satisfied smile on his face when he saw her in the family car. Paul would think that his scheming had paid off. That he’d got her off his hands at last.

  Ross was waiting for an answer and she could tell he sensed her hesitation. ‘If you’re rather not, you have only to say so,’ he said levelly.

  If she said no, that she would rather travel to the cemetery with the rest of the mourners, she would be denying Ross her support, and herself some moments of closeness with him. That mattered much more than her father thinking how clever he was, so she said evenly, ‘It means a lot to me that you’ve asked me to be with you. Of course I’ll do what you ask.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Good.’

  It wasn’t the moment to tell her that he’d found a scrawled note on the arm of his mother’s chair, which she must have written as she’d felt the beginning of the end. It was barely decipherable, but he’d managed to make it out. It was made up of just four words. Ross, Follow Your Heart it said, and one day soon he intended to do just that. But he couldn’t concentrate on his love for the living until he’d buried the dead that he’d also loved.

  * * *

  It was late Saturday afternoon and the funeral was over. Almost everyone from the village had been there, and anyone who wanted to had been invited back to the tearoom for refreshments.

  Sophie, resplendent in mourning black, was in charge and telling everyone who asked that she was going to carry on as before, with some outside help. ‘It’s what our Sally would have wanted,’ she said. ‘She was the brains and I’m the brawn, which is perhaps as well under the circumstances.’

  She’d collared Ross one afternoon after his mother’s death and told him in her usual forthright manner, ‘I saw that note your mother left. Are you going to act on it?’

  He’d managed a smile.

  ‘Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see, Aunt Sophie.’

  Of course he was going to act upon it, he’d thought. He’d already made up his mind on that, but he could wait a few more days until his mother had been laid to rest. He’d waited seven years and now that the time had come he was going to make sure that the setting and the moment were perfect. He hadn’t forgotten Sophie telling him about the Kissing Stone and it had caught his imagination.

  The three of them had sat in silence in the funeral car, with Ross gazing sombrely ahead and Sophie mopping her eyes. Isabel had ached for them both.

  Her father and Millie had been amongst the mourners and she hadn’t missed his satisfied smile when he’d seen her seated beside Ross in the family’s funeral car. Neither had she been unaware of his companion’s sliding glance every time their eyes had met.

  It had been the first time she’d seen him since she’d met Millie that day on the hill road, and no doubt the older woman would be hoping that nothing would be said today.

  She could rest easy on that, Isabel thought dryly. There was no way she would cross swords with her father on such an occasion. All she was concerned about was Ross.

  She’d been too young to remember what it had been like after her mother’s funeral, but almost everyone who’d had a death in the family said that it was coping with the awful gap that it had left in their lives once the funeral was over that was the worst.

  Ross had come to her for comfort once, but had it just been a spontaneous turning towards the person who was nearest? she kept wondering. Would he let her be there for him again when he was down and suffering? Only Ross knew the answer to that.

  The last of those who’d come to pay their respects to Sally had gone, and Sophie for once had given in to exhaustion and gone to have a rest, leaving the two doctors to tidy up the tearooms.

  It was history repeating itself, Isabel thought, the two of them clearing up after a gathering in this place, but the reasons were very different. The first time it had been a happy occasion, Ross’s homecoming. Today it had been a sad departure they had all turned out for.

  ‘What have you planned for tomorrow?’ he asked casually as he dried the last pot.

  ‘Nothing of interest,’ she replied. ‘Why?’

  ‘I just wondered. We’ve both had a heavy week. Me with the funeral to arrange, and you being lumbered with some of my surgery duties on top of your own.’

  ‘Surely you don’t think I minded.’

  ‘No, Izzy. I’m sure you didn’t. You’ve been great from the start. But I think we should both put our feet up tomorrow. I’m going to have a lie-in and then spend the afternoon sorting out some of my mother’s papers.’

  ‘I’ll probably catch up on some housework,’ she said flatly, having got the message that her usefulness was diminishing. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be off. Once again it’s feeding time for my animals.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said easily. ‘I’ll see you on Monday.’

  * * *

  Did you really expect anything else? Isabel asked herself as she walked the short distance to the cottage. What did you think Ross was going to do? Sweep away all your doubts and confusions on the very day that he’s buried his mother—or on any other day for that matter.

  It was a shame to tease her, Ross thought as he watched her go, but he’d needed to find out if she would be at home the following day. It appeared that she would.

  * * *

  After a restless night Isabel awoke feeling sluggish and heavy-eyed, and instead of getting out of bed lay gazing at the rafters above her head. The day stretched ahead endlessly and she was loth for it to begin. Her life was running true to form, she thought. She’d let herself hope that Ross saw her as she was now, cool and confident, yet at the same time desirable, but it looked like a vain hope.

  The phone on the bedside table rang, breaking into her thoughts. She picked it up eagerly, hoping that it might be Ross. But it was a strange voice speaking in her ear and what it had to say had her leaping out of bed and flinging on jeans and a thick sweater before she went to rummage in the cupboard beneath the stairs.

  * * *

  Ross was smiling as he approached Isabel’s cottage in the early afternoon. He was about to act upon what had been his mother’s last message to him, and he hoped that somewhere she would be approving.

  He’d spent the morning on the phone to a certain restaurant and persuading Sam Shuttleworth’s daughter, the florist, to open up to make him a bouquet of her most beautiful flowers.

  She’d eyed him curiously, thinking that only a few days before he’d been in to order a funeral arrangement and now here he was asking for the next thing to a bridal bouquet.

  In spite of the week he’d had, Ross had found time to go to a jeweller’s in the town, and the ring he was going to put on Izzy’s finger lay snugly in a small velvet box in his pocket.

  Was he presuming too much? he wondered as he lifted the heavy brass knocker on her old oak door. He would soon know, and if he was wrong and she didn’t want him when he asked her to marry him, he would keep on asking until she said she did.

  There was no answer and he knocked again, not unduly perturbed. He could hear Tess barking somewhere inside and knew that would bring her to the door. But it didn’t and he knocked again and again.

  Disappointment washed over him. She’d said she would be in, he thought dismally, and she wasn’t, which just served him right for not telling her he was coming round. So much for the big surprise.

  A tractor was trundling along the lane, driven by the farmer whose cow had been tucking into Izzy’s front lawn early one morning, and Ross waved him
down.

  ‘Have you seen anything of Dr West today?’ he asked him.

  ‘Aye, briefly,’ he said, ‘but it’s a bit ago. She was pulling out onto the road as I went past and looked as if she wasn’t intending wasting any time.’

  ‘I see,’ Russ said flatly, accepting that he would have to come back when Izzy returned from wherever she’d gone. The next time he came he would phone first to make sure that it wasn’t a wasted journey. But each time he phoned there was no answer and he thought exasperatedly that she was making a day of it.

  In the late evening, after trying once more and still getting no answer, he went across to the tea shop to check that all was well with Sophie. She’d rallied from the day before and was doing her usual evening bake for Monday.

  ‘Have you seen anything of Izzy today?’ he asked.

  She shook her head.

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘I’m told that she went out early this morning and she still isn’t back.’

  ‘She’s a big girl now,’ his aunt said laughingly. ‘She doesn’t have to report to you when she goes anywhere, does she?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said absently. ‘But I have a strong feeling of unease, though I don’t know why.’

  Sophie’s hands became still in the flour.

  ‘I think I know where she might be. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before. Jess came round for a cup of tea this morning and said that the cave rescue people have been called out to a serious incident at one of the caves near Castleton. They’re all volunteers and Isabel is one of them. The police know they can call on her if a doctor is needed, which is often the case.’

  ‘Which cave?’ he asked tersely.

  ‘She didn’t say. There are dozens of them in the area.’

  ‘And just how dangerous is it?’ Ross asked, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  ‘What? The caving or the rescue?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘The caving is very dangerous if those taking part are untrained and careless, and rescuing them can be even more perilous. It all depends on how badly hurt the caver is and whether there is any risk of flooding or boulder chokes and suchlike.’

  He was already disappearing through the tea-shop doorway and calling over his shoulder, ‘If she shows up, ask her to stay put until I get back. I’m going to Castleton.’

  There’d been nothing to indicate that was where Izzy had gone, he thought as he drove towards the place that housed one of the most famous caves in the area, but from what Sophie had said it seemed there was every likelihood that she’d been called out.

  There was just one word beating into his brain as he drove along, DANGEROUS. Izzy must be crazy if she was willing to risk her life for people who had nothing better to do than go crawling around caves, he thought grimly. But maybe she wouldn’t be there. Perhaps she’d gone to do some shopping in the town as lots of the stores opened on Sunday.

  He could tell he was getting near the cave where the accident had occurred by what was going on around the entrance. It wasn’t the famous cavern. It was a lesser-known cave where they were gathered that was having its moment of fame. The police were there and an ambulance, and the press were hovering, avid for a story.

  As he surveyed the scene Ross saw Izzy’s Mini parked nearby, but there was no sign of its owner.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ROSS parked his car next to Izzy’s and was out of it in a flash. ‘What’s going on here?’ he asked a police officer who appeared to be in charge.

  ‘We have two people trapped inside one of the caverns,’ he was told. ‘In caving language there’s been a boulder choke—to the rest of us a rockfall.’

  ‘Who are they?’ he asked urgently.

  ‘A young woman doctor and a caver knocked unconscious after he fell over some rubble.’

  ‘Not Dr Isabel West?’ he questioned as urgency turned to dread.

  The officer was observing him intently. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘We’re doctors in a village practice.’

  ‘So you’re a doctor, too. That’s good. We might need you.’

  ‘I’ll do anything I can to assist,’ he told him hoarsely. ‘If you want someone to go down there, I’ll do it. I’m not a caver but I do have basic rescue training.’

  While he’d been speaking it had started to rain, and it wasn’t drizzle. It was a heavy downpour and Ross could hear someone saying, ‘This could cause a flash flood if it keeps up. There’s a stream running through the cavern where they’re trapped.’

  ‘So who raised the alarm?’ Ross asked the policeman, trying to remain detached.

  ‘His companion left him to come up for help,’ the officer said, ‘and by the time he’d got to the surface he was in such a state he couldn’t face going down again. He must have been blundering around down there and disturbed the loose limestone blocks in the roof.

  ‘The doctor was first on the scene and, cool as a cucumber, she went down on her own, leaving instructions for the cave rescue team to bring a stretcher with them when they go down.’

  ‘I know that particular cavern,’ the man who’d mentioned flash flooding said. ‘It will be a long tight crawl to reach it and stretchering an injured man out of it won’t be easy.’

  ‘So boulders have fallen and blocked off the entrance since Dr West went down?’

  ‘That’s about it,’ he replied. ‘It was probably the other fellow panicking to get out that disturbed them. The experienced caver knows to treat the limestone slabs with respect, but novices like these two go in head first, land themselves in a mess and put other people’s lives at risk getting them out. Caving can be a dangerous pastime.’

  ‘So what is being done to get them out?’ Ross asked the policeman frantically.

  ‘We’re waiting for the main cave rescue team to arrive. They’d been called out to another emergency at a place some miles distant and are on their way. The doctor was the only one available in the first instance. They tell us it could be a good hour before they get here, and if the rain keeps coming down like this she and the injured caver are going to be in a dangerous situation.’

  ‘And what will they do when they come that we can’t?’ he cried.

  ‘Find a way through the blockage if there is one.’

  ‘Is there any spare gear knocking about?’ Ross asked, desperately aware that the minutes were ticking by.

  ‘Why?’ the policeman asked. ‘You can’t go down there if you’ve had no experience of caving.’

  ‘How far in are they?’ he persisted.

  ‘According to the fellow who raised the alarm, they’re trapped in the second of a series of caverns. This cave goes back a long way.’

  The flash-flood man spoke. ‘I’m not usually willing to put myself at risk because of amateurs, but that young doctor down there is another matter. They’ll let you have some gear from the caving shop over there, and once you’re togged up I’ll take you down. You’ll have to follow my instructions to the letter. All right?’

  ‘Anything you say,’ Ross agreed fervently. And after he’d dashed into the shop and galvanised the staff into supplying the necessary equipment, he told the assembled crowd, ‘I’m going to marry that woman down there and nothing is going to stop me, so start praying for the rain to stop and the rescue team to get here quickly.’

  * * *

  This was a nightmare, Isabel was thinking. She’d been in this sort of situation before, but not on her own. There had always been the rest of the team working alongside her and she had expected that they wouldn’t be far behind her when she’d gone down.

  She’d thrown herself on top of the injured caver when slabs from the roof had come crashing down and had narrowly escaped being hit, and now she was watching uneasily for any further movement. To make matters worse, the water in the stream that ran through the centre of the cave was rising, which meant that it was raining above ground.

  The man had regained consciousness and wa
s moaning loudly beside her, but there was no way she could move him without help. When the rest of the team arrived they would have to pick their way through the boulders that were blocking the way and there was nothing to say that there wouldn’t be another fall while they were doing it. Any experienced caver knew that the slightest vibration or movement could cause boulders to come crashing down if they were in a precarious position.

  The man was conscious enough to realise that the water level in the cave was rising and kept crying, ‘We’re going to drown, aren’t we?’

  From the light on her headgear Isabel could see that his temple was still bleeding from the fall. It was a deep gash and blood was oozing from beneath the dressing she’d put on it. As for the rest of him, there was no room to examine him further, but she suspected there would be other injuries that as yet weren’t identifiable.

  She was aware that it wasn’t advisable to move someone after a head injury if there was any suspected damage to the skull, but the situation they were in presented no choice.

  ‘There’s a ledge just behind us,’ she said, her gaze on the rising level of the stream. ‘Somehow or other we have to climb onto it. I can’t lift you on my own. You’ll have to help me move you up there. We are going to have to get you upright while I heave you up. Do you think you can stand?’

  ‘I’ll have to, won’t I?’ he cried. ‘But there’s something wrong with my ankle. I think it might be broken.’

  ‘It’s possible that it is,’ she told him. ‘But I can’t risk taking your boot off in these conditions. So you’re going to have to put all your weight on the other foot while I get you up there.’

  She was cool, organised as much as she could be in such a situation, but at the back of Isabel’s mind was the sickening thought that if the others didn’t arrive and get them out of here soon, she would never see Ross again. They would have disappeared into the black, fast-flowing water that would soon be filling the cave.