Wedding Fever

by Lee Wilkinson

  But she couldn’t turn back now.

  Just as she reached the bridge she heard a warning shout above the noise of the water. Ignoring it, she clung to the handrail and began to inch her way across.

  She was about a third of the way over when there was a dull crack and the whole structure tilted at a crazy angle.

  In the split second before she fell, as though in slow motion, she saw Nick wheel his horse and gallop away.

  But he wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t. . .

  The shock of the cold water closing over her and the ferocity of its onslaught should have paralysed her wits. Instead she found her brain oddly clear and lucid as she was swept into the bend—the bed of the creek at this point was blessedly free of boulders.

  Weighted down by her clothes and boots, it was impossible to swim, and she had to fight hard just to keep her head above water.

  Apart from a few stunted trees trying to find a foothold in the stony soil, the surrounding area was open, and as she was carried along by the force of the water Raine caught a fleeting glimpse of a horse at full stretch, the rider crouched low on its neck.

  Suddenly written in her mind in letters of fire was Nick’s description of the creek—‘there’s a straight stretch, then a U-bend before the rapids’—and she knew why he had ridden away. The water was flowing much too fast for him to have any chance of reaching her, so he was racing across the narrow neck of the U to try to get ahead and intercept her before she was swept to her death down the rapids.

  The certainty that Nick was trying to save her gave her fresh heart, and she did her best to battle against the powerful current that, following the angle of the bend, was tending to sweep her towards the far bank.

  ‘Raine!’

  A shout drew her attention, and she saw that Nick was ahead and to her right. Stripped to the waist, he was waiting, coolly judging his moment. Just before she drew level, he plunged into the creek.

  A moment later one strong arm grasped her and held her tightly while, swimming diagonally, using the water rather than trying to fight it, he waited for the current to sweep them into the opposite bank.

  By the time they were close enough they had been carried round the bend and were at the top of the rapids, with the water tumbling and boiling between huge boulders. Here the bank was higher and extremely hazardous, with sharp edges of jutting rock.

  As they were swept along he caught hold of the overhanging branch of a small lopsided fir tree and hung on, struggling to find some kind of foothold, shielding her body with his own as the surging water tried to batter them against the rocks.

  Making a superhuman effort, he lifted Raine with his free arm until she was almost clear of the water, but, before he could brace himself to push, a sudden surge dashed him against a jagged spur of rock.

  For a second or two she hung there, without the necessary strength to pull herself up the bank. As though part of her mind stood aloof, detached, above the noise of the water she heard the sharp cry of some bird and the drone of a plane low overhead.

  ‘Move, damn you!’ Nick’s command cracked like a whip. ‘If you slip back I may not be able to lift you again.’

  Galvanised into action, she grasped at a projecting piece of rock and managed to haul herself to safety, expecting Nick to follow.

  When he didn’t, she turned to see why.

  He was still holding onto the branch with his right hand, but his left arm was hanging useless.

  As she went down on her knees the force of the water knocked him sideways, and she cried out in shock as his head hit the rock with sickening force.

  Somehow he kept his hold, but his face was grey, his eyes closed, and there was blood on his temple which reappeared every time the surging water washed it away.

  While she stared in horror the fingers holding the branch began to lose their grip.

  Falling flat on her stomach, she leaned over and fastened both hands tightly around his wrist, trying to dig her toes in as his weight and the pull of the water threatened to drag her back.

  He opened glazed eyes. ‘Let go, you little fool.’ His voice was thick, the words slurred. ‘You’ll never be able to get me out... You’re just risking your own life... Leave me...’

  But just as she had known instinctively that he wouldn’t leave her, she knew that she couldn’t leave him. She would sooner die with him than live without him.

  No, she would sooner they both lived!

  Gathering herself, she called for help as loudly as she could, though common sense told her they had been carried so far downstream that the canoeist would be out of earshot.

  When she could call no more she held on with every ounce of her failing strength, teeth clenched, refusing to give up hope, while her fingers whitened and her arms felt as if they were being torn from their sockets.

  ‘Hang on!’

  She had drifted into a kind of stupor when the shout roused her. Had there really been a shout? she wondered dazedly. Or was she starting to hallucinate?

  ‘Hang on!’ It came again, producing a new surge of hope which gave her fresh strength.

  A moment or two later a man threw himself down beside her and, with a longer reach, grasped Nick’s arm just above the elbow. Calmly, he announced, ‘I’ve got him. You can let go now.’

  She had to make an effort to release her grip, which seemed to have frozen in place.

  Lifting a head which lolled a little, Nick muttered, ‘Finn?’

  ‘In person, old son,’ Finn said briskly. Then, to Raine, ‘There’s some rope. Double it, slip it under my arms, pass the ends through the loop to make a noose and, leaving some slack, tie both ends securely round the tree trunk.’

  Picking up the small coil of climbing rope he’d dropped, she followed his instructions as swiftly as her stiff fingers would allow.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Hold onto Nick again...’

  Once more both her hands closed over Nick’s lean wrist. The instant Finn was satisfied that her grip was secure, he relinquished his own and pulled the noose into position.

  ‘I don’t know whether he’s conscious enough to be able to do much, so as soon as I can take some of his weight pull for all you’re worth.’

  Leaning back on the rope, bracing his feet against the rocky bank as though he was abseiling, Finn went into the creek downstream of Nick.

  With amazing strength for such a slimly built man, he began to heave Nick’s bulk clear of the surging water while Raine, remembering the school tug of war team, used all her weight to pull.

  Though obviously only half conscious, as soon as his bare feet were able to find a purchase on the rock, Nick fought to help himself.

  A few seconds later both men were safe on the bank and, water streaming from his clothes, Finn was kneeling, checking Nick’s injuries.

  Terrified by his greyish pallor, she whispered, ‘How is he?’–

  Glancing up, Finn said reassuringly, ‘Could be worse. A blow to the head, which has dazed him, and a dislocated shoulder.’ He touched the extensive lacerations on the bare chest. ‘Possibly some cracked ribs... But he’s a tough nut.’

  Nick groaned, and muttering, ‘Thanks,’ sat up.

  His face was still ashen and the blood continued to ooze from the nasty gash on his temple, but he seemed to be more or less conscious now.

  Focusing on Raine, as though with difficulty, he asked thickly, urgently, ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, the relief of having him out of danger so great that she could give no expression to it.

  Finn turned his attention to Raine, taking her almost unnatural composure, her look of cold, white-faced exhaustion. ‘Sure?’ he asked, untying the rope and coiling it neatly and expertly.

  ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘Come on then, old son.’ Lending a hand to haul the other man to his feet, Finn settled Nick’s good arm around his shoulders. ‘What we need to do is get moving before hypothermia sets in.’

&n
bsp; ‘We’re on the wrong side of the creek,’ Raine remarked as, a shade unsteadily, they began to make their way over the rough ground. ‘I mean, we can’t go back over the foot-bridge...’

  Finn shook his head. ‘No need. Luckily the plane’s quite close...’

  Yes, she vaguely recalled hearing a plane...

  ‘I was circling to come down on the lake when I spotted you—thank heavens those orange vests are so visible, and thank the Lord I decided to come back early—and I landed on the road instead.’

  A minute or so later the small white plane with its orange and blue markings came into view. In the middle of the muddy road and slightly slewed, its door still open, it bore silent witness to Finn’s desperate urgency.

  When Raine, outwardly still and calm, had climbed into the rear, he helped Nick into the co-pilot’s seat and said cheerfully, ‘We’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  By the time they had touched down on the lake and struggled to the cabin reaction had set in, and she was shaking like a leaf.

  Dropping the grip he’d brought from the plane, Finn splashed brandy into three glasses and, having handed her one, said, ‘Drink that, then jump into a hot bath. Nick and I will towel ourselves down and get changed in front of the stove.’

  When she emerged from the bathroom some fifteen minutes later both men were dressed, though Nick was still shirtless, and there was a pot of coffee on the stove.

  Marvelling at his powers of recuperation, she saw his face had lost the greyish pallor that had frightened her so much, and, though there were lines of pain drawn around his mouth, his eyes were once more bright and alert.

  She wanted to put her arms round him and hold him close, to sob out her relief against his heart, but he was looking at her as though she was a stranger.

  ‘Feeling better now?’ Finn asked.

  ‘Much better.’ She smiled at the slim, dark-haired man whose thin face held a quiet, indomitable strength, and wondered how she could ever have suspected him of being weak.

  The first aid box at his elbow, he had started to apply antiseptic to the gash on Nick’s temple. ‘If you don’t have this stitched it will probably leave a scar,’ he observed.

  ‘I’m not planning to enter any beauty contests,’ Nick answered drily.

  Finn grinned. ‘Just as well, with an ugly mug like yours.’

  He finished his ministrations and covered the wound with a pad held in place by a strip of sticking-plaster, before turning his attention to the bruised and lacerated ribs.

  Nick grunted as he pressed them, but denied that there was any need to strap them up.

  ‘That shoulder needs setting,’ Finn remarked. ‘Shall I fly you back to Bangor?’

  ‘You used to be able to set a shoulder,’ Nick suggested.

  Finn hesitated, frowning.

  ‘Can I help?’ Raine asked.

  Meeting her steady gaze, Finn said, ‘Thank the Lord you’re not squeamish.’

  Lifting Nick’s left arm until it was parallel with his shoulder, he instructed her. ‘What I want you to do is keep it steady, and at this height.’

  While she held the arm at the required angle Finn went to stand behind Nick with the palm of his hand pressed against the bare muscular shoulder, and, taking hold of him in what looked like a half-nelson, he gave a sudden jerk.

  Raine heard the sharp crack as the bone settled back into place, and winced.

  Nick didn’t utter a sound, though the pain had made a fine beading of perspiration spring out on his brow and upper lip.

  With a fierce surge of almost maternal love and tenderness she wanted to wipe it away, to kiss the tautness from around his mouth.

  A blue and green lumberjack-type shirt was hanging over a chair. Picking it up, she began to help him on with it. Unable to meet his eyes, afraid he would read what was in hers, she kept her head bent and watched her own fingers fastening the buttons with care.

  When she had finished he tucked it into his trousers one-handed while Finn folded a square of cotton material from the first aid box to make a sling.

  When it was neatly in place, he said to his patient, ‘Now, take the weight off your feet and try to get comfortable.’ Then, with a conspiratorial wink at Raine, ‘This might be the only chance I ever get to boss him about.’

  Nick lowered himself into one of the armchairs with a grunt and complained, ‘I was a damned sight more comfortable standing up.’

  ‘Ungrateful swine,’ Finn said mildly, and shook a couple of white tablets into his hand. ‘You’ll need painkillers for the next day or so. I suggest that when these have had time to take effect, you have a lie down. Both of you.’ He smiled at Raine. ‘In the meantime I’ll pour some coffee, and you can tell me exactly what happened.’

  Her throat closed up tight. She swallowed hard and said, ‘I haven’t even thanked you yet...’

  ‘No thanks are necessary.’

  ‘You saved Nick’s life.’

  ‘No, you saved Nick’s life. If you hadn’t hung on to him like you did, he would have been a goner before I could have reached him. It was a very courageous thing to do.’

  ‘But I could never have managed to get him out. You were absolutely marvellous...’

  ‘God give me strength!’ Nick muttered. Then went on, ‘I’m the one who should be thanking both of you! And I will, as soon as you’ve finished forming a mutual admiration society.’

  The tension burst in a bubble of laughter.

  When they’d sobered, Raine looked up and found Nick’s eyes fixed on her. Quickly she shook her head. ‘If it hadn’t been for you I would have died.’ Remembering the thundering force of the water, she shuddered.

  ‘And don’t thank me,’ Finn said. ‘I was merely evening the score. Remember the time I went through the ice...?’

  ‘You were only fourteen.’

  ‘Still counts.’

  As they sat around drinking the coffee Finn had poured he asked plaintively, ‘So isn’t anyone going to tell me how it happened?’

  ‘We’d planned a ride to Saskis Pond.’ It was Nick who answered, his voice smooth and controlled. ‘So I’d driven over to the Doodys’ to borrow a couple of horses.

  ‘Raine had gone for a walk, and, riding back through the woods, I spotted her about to try and cross the old footbridge. It’s been half-rotten for years. I called out to her...’

  Did be really think she’d been just taking a walk? No, surely not. Bearing in mind how she’d carried on in spite of his warning, he must have guessed at least part of the truth.

  ‘But it was too late...’ Briefly and unemotionally he filled in the rest, ending crisply, ‘And now it’s about time somebody rounded up Lisbet’s horses.’

  Finn rose to his feet and said good-naturedly, ‘I can take a hint. Though I might point out that if you’d had the sense to do what most honeymooners do—i.e. stay in bed—it wouldn’t have been necessary.’

  He ducked, and the cushion Nick threw at him sailed over his head.

  ‘Despite that disgusting display of fitness, you won’t be doing any riding for a while, so I’ll return the horses and bring the Cherokee back.’ He added seriously, ‘There might be some delayed shock, so while I’m gone you two rest. Doctor’s orders.’

  When the door had closed behind him, Nick sat staring into the flames, the expression on his face withdrawn, sombre, while the silence lengthened and tension stretched between them like fine steel wires.

  When she could bear it no longer, Raine jumped to her feet and said hoarsely, inadequately, ‘Nick, I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’ He didn’t even look at her.

  ‘It was my stupidity that almost cost you your life.’

  ‘Both our lives,’ he said harshly. ’Dear God, you must have been desperate to have gone onto that bridge. It was suicidal...’ He lifted his head, and she saw the dark blue eyes grow almost black.

  ‘No!’ she denied sharply. ‘That was never the intention. I was trying to get across. You see...’ She tol
d him about the canoeist and, watching his expression, added hastily, ‘He was young and pleasant. He had a girlfriend in Bangor...’

  ‘But if he’d been the Boston Strangler you’d still have gone with him,’ Nick said heavily. ‘You really must hate and detest me to take such risks.

  No, she didn’t hate him. She’d wanted to hate him, tried to hate him. But love had always proved stronger, and she’d feared that love more than she’d feared him. Feared it would destroy her and leave only a burnt-out shell.

  But the closeness of death had made her realise how precious life was—too precious to waste a minute of it in futile regrets for what was past, or fear of what was to come.

  ‘No, Nick, I—’

  His mouth tight, he shook his head, and said with black bitterness, ‘You’ve told me so plenty of times. I just haven’t wanted to believe it.’

  ‘But I don’t hate you—’

  ‘There’s no need to deny it now, just because you think I saved your life. After all, it wouldn’t have been in danger if it hadn’t been for me.’

  Physically and emotionally drained, she staggered a little and pressed waxy fingers to her forehead. ‘If you’d only listen—’

  ‘You’re about out on your feet,’ he interrupted curtly. ‘It’s time you were getting that rest Finn mentioned.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time we both were,’ she said without moving, making it clear that she had no intention of going alone.

  Stiffly, grimacing a little, he got to his feet and said, ‘Very well. You take that bed—it’ll be warmer. I’ll use the bedroom.’

  Shocked, she watched him walk away and close the bedroom door after him. Had he decided to use the spare room because he was angry with her? Or was it that he didn’t want her to see that he was in pain?

  Knowing it was more likely to be the latter, she felt rebuffed and miserable.

  But it was her own fault She could hear herself telling him bitterly, “You once said that all you wanted from me was the use of my body, and that’s all you’ll ever get! Not comfort or concern if you’re injured or ill, not help and support when you’re tired and you need a shoulder to lean on, not compassion—”