Will nodded and sat up, panting for breath.
Luke hugged his father. “I thought you were going to die.”
The man Drew had hauled in sat up and pulled his drenched boy close, then claimed the little girl. Sitting in the mud, he held his children and stared at the river, his face grim.
“We've got to get all of you to the clinic,” Jessie said. “Right now.”
Drew looked at the grieving man. “I wish we could have saved them all.” They limped to the truck and managed to climb onto the open tailgate where they sat shivering.
Laurel stared at the last place she'd seen Adam. He'd given his life trying to save a child. Choking back sobs, her tears mingled with rain on her cheeks.
Jessie stood beside her, an arm around Laurel's dripping wet shoulders.
“Do you think they might still be alive?”
“They're in the Lord's hands,” Jessie said. “He'll see to them.”
Chapter Nineteen
BUNDLED IN A WOOL BLANKET, LAUREL SAT ON THE CLINIC BENCH HOLDING a cup of coffee between her hands. Her shivering had stopped, but inside she felt empty and cold. She kept seeing Adam and the others disappear into the muddy water.
“Sugar, you all right?” Will asked, sitting beside his daughter and placing an arm around her.
Shaking her head no, Laurel leaned against her father. Burying her face against his chest, she allowed tears to flow, but the ache inside didn't subside.
Suddenly, the roar of a truck and hollering came from outside. A moment later a soaking-wet Ray Townsend pushed open the door and stepped in. A woman hung limply in his arms. “I need a doctor. Where's the doctor?”
Another man carrying a child wrapped in a blanket followed Ray. It looked like a little girl.
Laurel's heart caught in her throat. Were these the people who'd fallen into the river? What about Adam? Was he alive? She let her blanket fall to the floor and ran to the door. Two men stepped inside with Adam draped between them. “Is he alive?” Laurel asked.
“Yeah, but just barely,” one man answered.
A nurse appeared. “Bring him back here.” Taking short, quick steps, she led them to an examining room. Laurel followed. “Get him on the table,” the nurse said.
The men laid Adam down, then stepped back. The one who'd spoken earlier said, “We found the lot of them tumbling down the river. We barely got them. If it weren't for Ray, this one would have been done in for sure. But Ray wouldn't give up—not ‘til he dragged him to shore.” He stared at Adam. “Sure hope he appreciates what Ray did for him.” With that he walked out of the room, the other man close behind.
Laurel leaned over the table. “Adam? Adam, can you hear me?” He looked awful; his skin had a pale blue tinge, and his breaths were shallow.
The nurse stripped off his wet clothes and bundled him in warm blankets. “He's real cold. We need to warm him.” She looked at Laurel. “You his wife?”
“No, a friend. Can't the doctor see him?” Laurel asked.
“He's with the little girl. She's badly hurt.”
Adam moaned. His eyes blinked.
“Well, why don't you get your friend some coffee?” the nurse said.
Laurel sat on the front step of the tent, reflecting on the past few days. The rain had stopped, and sunshine filtered through puffy clouds, making mirrors out of puddles. She smiled. God truly was in control. The day the bridge had collapsed, she'd believed Adam and the others had perished. Who would have thought someone down river, especially Ray Townsend, would have been there to help them. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered.
If not for Mr. Townsend, Adam would have died. Two other men had pulled out the woman and child, but Ray was the one who'd gone after Adam. The incident had shown her the man had another side. The day after the accident, Laurel went to Mr. Townsend to thank him. He didn't want her thanks and acted as if what he'd done was nothing out of the ordinary.
Laurel's mind wandered to Adam. She could see his handsome, boyish face, his easy manner, the way he stood, the way he moved. His appealing, confusing blend of toughness and sensitivity puzzled her. She didn't understand the man or the way she felt whenever he was near. She didn't want to care about him. It was foolish. He was nothing like her, and soon he'd be leaving the valley. Though she fought it, Laurel wanted to be with Adam, to talk to him, to share her dreams and aspirations.
“Let's go,” Brian said, walking out of the tent waving a fishing pole. “Justin, you said you'd go fishing.” Brian looked at Laurel. “He promised. Make him go.”
With a sigh, Laurel stood and walked into the tent. “Justin?”
“I don't wanna go. I don't feel good.” Justin crawled onto his bed and lay down.
“You look all right to me,” Brian said.
“Well, I'm not.” Justin pulled a coverlet over himself and closed his eyes.
Laurel crossed the room and looked down at her brother. “What's wrong?”
“I think I'm sick. I have a headache and my throat hurts.”
Laurel rested her hand on his forehead. It felt hot. She studied his face. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes looked too bright. “I'll get Mama.” She walked outside where Jean was hanging clothes. “I think Justin's sick.”
Jean clipped a pair of blue jeans onto the line, then lifted overalls out of the basket.
“He said he's got a sore throat and a headache. He feels hot.”
“I'll be right there.” After hanging up the overalls, Jean hurried inside. “Well, let's take a look at you.” She leaned over Justin. “Open your mouth.”
