by Bess McBride
Jimmy, another young man, more brawny than the first one, reached them. He brooked no nonsense but grabbed Amanda around her waist and signaled to the other crewmembers holding the ropes to pull them up. Amanda, debating between dead weight and helping, shivered and wrapped her arms around Jimmy’s neck as he instructed. They were being rescued. She couldn’t endanger her rescuers.
In a haze of despair, she barely noticed that she was then hauled up to the top deck near the pilot house and half carried, half dragged back across the deck toward a plank leading to the other sternwheeler, the Rockies. Jimmy turned her over to another crewmember on the rescuing boat, and she followed the middle-aged couple onto the boat. A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders though she wasn’t cold.
They appeared to be on the cargo deck of the Rockies—an enclosed area like the car deck of a ferry—and she couldn’t see the water. Amanda dropped her blanket and raced for the stairs to the second deck. Once there, she ran to the railing—knowing the feel of it well—and she leaned over to scan the river for signs of Nathan. The river looked cold, busy, fast, unforgiving, and she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t bear to think of Nathan in the water...drowning.
She searched the banks but saw nothing dark like Nathan’s clothing. The banks were steep with very little opportunity to cling to the sandy edges.
The Cascades listed in the water, the port side of the passenger deck completely submerged. If her heart hadn’t already been broken, Amanda would have thought the sight a sad thing. She’d had such high hopes of her adventures on a sternwheeler.
She searched the moving people on the Cascades, but none were Nathan. A scan of the perimeter of the boat showed no bodies. Amanda shivered again. Nathan was not a body. He would never be a body. It wasn’t possible. He could not die. Her teeth chattered, and she kept shaking her head. No.
“Miss, are you all right?” The young man who had initially attempted to rescue her approached. She looked at him blankly.
“Yes, I th-think so,” she whispered. A dark cloud fell over her eyes, and she wiped at cold perspiration on her upper lip. “I’m fine.” She turned back to search the blue-gray water, but the swirling images made her dizzy. She grabbed the railing, feeling as if she were falling again toward the river.
****
“Amanda,” the same voice called gently. “Amanda.” Her hand was held in a warm clasp.
Amanda opened her eyes and bolted upright. Nathan!
Robert’s face came into view, and she scanned the room beyond him for Nathan. But the only other person in sight was Mrs. Spivey, who held a glass of water to Amanda’s lips. Amanda jerked her head away, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Amanda, please drink something. You have sustained a shock.” Robert’s voice soothed and entreated. He sat on the bed next to her.
Amanda, frozen in a sitting position, stared unseeingly at the water, and Mrs. Spivey sighed and set the glass down with a motherly cluck.
“The doctor says she must take something, Mr. Chamberlain. What are we to do?”
“She is grieving, Mrs. Spivey. I suspect there is little we can do for her at the moment. Let me see if she will take the water from me.”
He attempted to reach for the glass, but Amanda tightened her grip on his hand, refusing to let go. She hardly understood her actions, but she knew she couldn’t let go. The tears falling down her face burned like acid across her cheeks.
With his free hand, Robert pulled Amanda toward him, and she buried her face in his shoulder and closed her eyes. He smelled a bit like Nathan...a bit. Maybe it was the clothes. Maybe it was 1906.
Nathan...cold and alone. She imagined his body at the bottom of the river. Did one sink in a river? Or in the sea? The river wasn’t a sea. He wouldn’t sink, would he? Would he float downriver? Upriver?
She began to shake again, and Robert whispered near her ear.
“There, there, Amanda. I think you must cry. Don’t try to hold it back.”
“He’s cold,” she muttered into his jacket. “He’s cold and alone.”
A shudder passed through Robert, and Amanda had a fleeting thought that Robert must be suffering too.
“I know it is hard, but try not to think like that, Amanda. It will do you no good. Nathan loved you dearly. That is what you must remember. His love, his smile, the joy you brought him.”
Amanda shook her head. “I don’t want to remember him. I want to see him.”
“Yes, I know, I know.” Robert spoke soothingly but Amanda longed to hear only Nathan’s voice. Her jaw shook, forcing her teeth to tap against each other.
Robert pulled away and stared hard at her.
“Amanda, you will drink some water. I insist. Then Mrs. Spivey will bring up some hot soup.”
Amanda listlessly sipped the water Robert held under her nose.
“There now, that’s a good girl. Lie back down and allow Mrs. Spivey to cover you. The doctor said you must stay warm.”
“I’m not cold,” she said as she dropped back against the pillows. Mrs. Spivey pulled the blankets up to her neck.
“Your hands are cold.” Robert took her hands and rubbed them.
“Not as cold as Nathan, I think,” Amanda said thickly. The hot tears sprang from her eyes anew, and a sob caught in her throat.
“I’ll go down to the kitchen and get the soup, Mr. Chamberlain.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Spivey.”
The older woman left the room, and Amanda closed her eyes. Images of freezing, dark water hovered just behind her eyelids, and she popped her eyes open. Robert sat on the bed, still holding her hand.
“I can’t shut my eyes,” she whispered, “not while he’s out there.” She turned her head toward the window. Darkness had fallen. She jerked upright again and eyed Robert.
“Are they searching for Nathan? They are searching for him, aren’t they?”
Robert sighed and rose to approach the window with a heavy step.
“They have abandoned the search for tonight, Amanda, and will resume in the morning. They hold no hope of finding him alive.” He turned to look at her with an expression of sympathy and pain. “I am so sorry.”
Amanda stared past him to the night sky. “It’s so dark out there. I don’t know how he can see in the dark.”
Robert turned to look out of the window again. “Please be kind to yourself and try not to imagine him suffering. He would not want this for you.”
His shoulders sagged, and Amanda bit back her next words of grief. Robert was struggling, too.
“I’m sorry, too, Robert. You were close.”
“I loved him like a brother,” Robert said with his head bowed, “and I shall miss him terribly.”
“Me, too,” Amanda whispered.
They remained silent, lost in their own thoughts, until Mrs. Spivey returned. Amanda agreed to drink some soup if only to appease Mrs. Spivey and Robert. It was hot and flavorful, and Amanda choked back the comment that Nathan would probably appreciate a hot cup of soup at the moment.
“Mr. Spivey said to ask you if you still intend on leaving on the train tonight, Mr. Chamberlain. He can cancel your ticket and issue you a new one.”
Amanda gasped. Robert leave?
“You can’t leave right now!” she cried out. “What if...what if they find him?” Her throat closed over the words.
Robert came to her side and bent over to take her hand. “I am not leaving, Amanda. Do not fear. I will not abandon you.” He turned to Mrs. Spivey. “Please tell Mr. Spivey to cancel my ticket. I am not sure how long I will need to remain here. I will need to send telegrams as well, but I can attend to that later.”
She nodded and left the room again.
Robert released Amanda’s hand and turned to retrieve the hardback chair from the door. He set it beside the bed and sat down.
“When I do leave, Amanda, you will come with me. You will stay with Ellie and I until you decide what you wish to do. It is too soon to speak of such matters, but pleas
e rest assured that you will be cared for. That is what Nathan would wish me to do and what I wish to do.”
Amanda shook her head with no clear intent to the gesture, and turned to look out the window again.
“I can’t think beyond right now,” she muttered. “I can’t think beyond getting through the night and waiting for the sun to come up.”
She looked at Robert with blurry eyes. “How…how did I get back here?”
“As I understand it from Mr. Cunningham, the passengers of the Cascades were rescued by its sister sternwheeler, the Rockies. The passengers were returned to Wenatchee as the closest point, and upon being contacted by Mr. Spivey, who apparently knows everything, I came down to fetch you and Nathan.” Robert broke off and turned away, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I brought you here to the hotel. I have not been able to send telegrams to Nathan’s grandfather or Ellie yet, or perhaps I simply do not want to do so at this time. I too hold out hope for Nathan’s rescue. The crew of the Rockies searched the immediate area but were unable to locate Nathan. Mr. Cunningham assures me they will make another attempt to spot him tomorrow as they undertake their normally scheduled journey upriver, despite this catastrophe.” Bitterness marred his normally smooth voice.
“You were right to be worried,” Amanda said. “We should have listened. If I hadn’t been so selfish, I would have thought twice about taking the sternwheeler. And now, Nathan...” She choked off the words and bit down on her lower lip as hard as she could.
Robert shook his head. “It is not your fault, Amanda. Nathan was as enthusiastic as you about the excursion. Do not blame yourself. You were not responsible for the boat hitting a boulder. I am not certain if anyone is, really.”
Amanda slumped back against her pillows. She noticed she had stopped shivering. Mrs. Spivey’s soup had warmed her body...just not her heart. She couldn’t imagine her heart ever warming up again.
“I think I will leave you to sleep now, my dear.”
Amanda turned her head slightly to look at Robert.
“You look exhausted, too,” she said quietly. “You should get some sleep as well. Thank you for all that you’ve done, Robert.”
Robert gave a quick shake of his head and rose. “I have done nothing.” The bitterness in his voice resurfaced, but the brief glimpse of anguish on his face suggested he was much more emotional that she had suspected or thought him capable of.
She held out her hand, and he took it in his.
“I am so sorry,” she said quietly.
Robert gave her a thin-lipped smile and nodded his head. He turned for the door and when he reached for the light switch, Amanda stopped him.
“No, leave the lights on, please, Robert. I don’t think I can bear to be in the dark.”
Robert nodded. “Try to sleep,” he said.
She stiffened with a thought. “Wake me if you hear anything! Anything!”
Robert nodded again. “Yes, of course. Good night.” He left the room, and Amanda lay back against the pillows again, willing the long night to pass. She had no idea what time it was, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t tomorrow...when they could resume searching for Nathan again.
She closed her eyes and tried to block out the images of swirling water, but she could see nothing else. Cold, dark, swirling water. She felt herself falling.
****
“Amanda. Amanda, are you awake?” A hand touched her shoulder.
Nathan! The voice belonged to Nathan! Amanda opened groggy eyes and shot up in bed. The room was still lit from the overhead light, and an elderlywhite-haired man sat in the chair next to her bed. It was he who had touched her shoulder. Robert, looking haggard and remarkably casual in only his vest with an open collar, stood behind the much older gentleman.
She needed no introduction. Other than his brilliant white hair and a few wrinkles, the man looked just like Nathan. It was his grandfather.
“I am sorry if we awakened you, Amanda,” said Robert. “It is about 8 p.m., and Mr. Carpenter came on the afternoon train from Seattle. He has been searching the town for you and Nathan, and he wished to see you as soon as possible.”
Amanda pulled the covers to her neck and stared at the grandfather. His eyes were red-rimmed, from crying she guessed. How had he gotten here so fast? She threw a look toward Robert who interpreted her question correctly.
“No, I sent no telegrams yet. It seems that while at the bank the other day, Mr. Carpenter overheard a conversation from the bank manager that Nathan had sent a telegram requesting funds.” Robert frowned. “This was against my express instructions regarding discussion of the matter. Nevertheless, Mr. Carpenter discovered that Nathan was alive and here in Wenatchee. He came on yesterday’s train.”
The older man, his shoulders shaking, reached for Amanda’s hand, and she allowed him to take it. His grief threatened to send her into tears again, and she fought for control.
“Thank Heaven you have been found, my dear. We thought you lost.” He turned to look at Robert who shook his head.
“It is a long story, Mr. Carpenter, and best left for another time. Nathan and Amanda were preparing to return to Seattle before he...” Robert dropped his eyes to the floor for a moment, also apparently battling his own grief. He looked at Amanda and shook his head as if to warn her of something. Not to discuss the time travel?
“But where have you two been for the past year?” Mr. Carpenter asked in a piteous voice.
“I can’t explain right now,” Amanda whispered. “I wish I could.”
Mr. Carpenter tightened his grip on her hand, almost painfully so. He looked at Robert. “And now you say he is drowned? Lost in the river?”
Amanda gasped. The words were too painful to hear.
“How can this be?” He looked from Robert to Amanda.
Robert told him about the sternwheeler accident.
“So, no one saw him drown?” Mr. Carpenter asked. Amanda had the same question. “They haven’t found his body?”
Robert shook his head. “They will return upriver tomorrow morning and will search along the way. Mr. Cunningham advised me that if they do not find anything tomorrow, they can do no more.”
“I thought he died a year ago,” Mr. Carpenter said in a determined voice. “We all did. If Nathan came back from the dead before, surely he can come back again.” He stiffened his chin and threw out the challenge, daring Amanda or Robert to argue. Amanda agreed heartily. Robert nodded but said nothing.
“We’ll wait and see.” Mr. Carpenter straightened in his chair. “Now, while we wait, Amanda, tell me where you and Nathan have been?”
Chapter Twelve
Nathan released his grip on the boulder he had been clinging to since being dragged down the river by the strong current, and he struck out for shore. Hampered by his shoes, he kicked them off, and fought the current as he alternately swam across the rapids and allowed them to take him further away down the river.
He had hung onto the lower edge of the boulder for hours, hoping and praying that another boat would come by to rescue him. A sternwheeler had navigated the river near the opposite shore shortly after he’d found himself thrown up against the rock, but his voice had been drowned by the rushing water. He had not been able to crawl up onto the boulder, and had remained hidden from view. The sternwheeler had not seen him nor heard his calls for help.
The shore hadn’t seemed far when he first let go of the boulder, but he couldn’t sustain the strong strokes needed to forge the rapids. As he allowed the river to reclaim him again during respites, he barely kept his head above the surface and waited for another patch of calm water to begin swimming again.
His jacket weighed him down, and he shrugged out of it. Another round of powerful strokes, and his feet scraped against the sandy bottom, but he couldn’t take hold of the steep porous banks before the river attempted to drag him even further. He clawed at the dirt and reached for scrubby sagebrush, catching hold of one plant near the water’s edge.
Praying t
hat the roots wouldn’t give way, Nathan hung on while he found a toehold in the sand and dragged himself up out of the river. Exhausted and out of breath from the fight to reach shore, he threw himself onto his back, only just aware that night was falling. Another half hour, and he would have been in total darkness on the river...and dead. He could not have survived the river without some measure of light.
As his breathing slowed, his body began to shake from the cold night air on his wet skin and clothes. He turned on his side, pulled his knees to his chest and hugged himself. Pain shot through the side of his head, and he reached for the spot near his temple. A bump protruded through his hair, and his fingers came away sticky. He smelled blood, and suspected he must have hit his head on something as he fell from the boat.
He had never come so close to death before, and he thanked his lucky stars he had survived the churning water that had threatened to drag him under. He’d lost consciousness briefly and had awakened when he’d been thrown against the boulder.
Amanda! Was she safe? Had they rescued the other passengers? The last he had seen of her, she clung to the railing with one hand and reached for him with the other. Hopefully, she hadn’t let go.
Nathan’s body convulsed in shivers. It was so very cold. He raised his head to look around for some sort of shelter, but there was no moon, and the night was dark. He could see nothing now that twilight had dissipated. He couldn’t even attempt to find his way back to Wenatchee or wherever the nearest town along the river was. No lights broke the blackness. He supposed he could have followed the river from the sound of the water, but it would have been too unsafe. He well knew that the bank was steep and not easily traversed. If anything, he might have to head inland to find terrain more suitable for walking. He thought he remembered the river was flanked by low-lying hills.
Amanda. He prayed that she had been rescued. If so, he had no doubt that Robert would see to her. Did they think him dead? Would the steamboat company send out a search party? He had no idea, but he fervently hoped so. As soon as dawn arrived, he would watch the river closely and attempt to hail any passing boats. The river was wide in spots, but he felt certain he could shout loud enough to be noticed...if he wanted to return to Amanda.