Blessings of the Heart and Samantha's Gift

by Valerie Hansen

  Bree could see the slope easing. Ahead, the creek widened. White water boiled over the remains of a fallen oak. Its broken branches extended like claws, bare of leaves and reaching for the sky in one last, silent plea.

  Her heart stopped. Was something small and brown caught in the undertow beneath the tree’s battered trunk? There was only one way to be sure. Grabbing wildly at passing vegetation to slow her descent, Bree threw herself over the bank and into the racing water.

  Mitch read purpose in her headlong leap. He slid to a stop, gasping for breath, and flattened himself on the ground on his stomach, one hand holding fast to a snag, the other reaching out over the water toward her. “Brianne! Do you see him?”

  Her head broke the roiling surface of the icy water. She coughed, gagged. There was pathos and desperation in her eyes.

  “Did you see Bud?” Mitch shouted again.

  “No. Just the bear,” she answered. “I felt all along the bottom. There’s nothing else here.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Mitch scrambled to his feet, staggered, slipped. Wild-eyed, he stared at the water as it cascaded down the canyon.

  “Go!” Bree waved her arms and yelled at him. “Leave me. It’s not deep here. I can stand. I’ll be all right. Go! Go!”

  To her relief, Mitch followed her orders and quickly disappeared past the fallen tree. She made one last underwater foray to satisfy herself that she hadn’t overlooked any clues, then pulled herself to the bank, tossed the teddy bear onto higher ground and crawled out after it.

  Remaining on her hands and knees for a moment to catch her breath, Bree shivered. It wasn’t because she was chilled. It hurt to inhale, to move. Her ribs felt sore, like one of those jagged limbs might have poked them without her realizing it. Maybe it had. So what? That kind of minor injury didn’t matter. Not now.

  She hauled herself to her feet, pushed her wet hair from her face, then pressed a hand to her aching side, held it tight, and set off to follow Mitch down the canyon.

  She couldn’t see him because of the thick vegetation, but she could hear him shouting for his missing son. That was enough to keep her going.

  The ground started leveling out. The streambed was lined with enormous black rocks that looked like they’d been stacked one atop the other in flat, uneven layers by some giant hand. Over time, running water had polished the exposed surfaces, making walking on the rocks treacherous.

  Drawing ragged breaths, Brianne paused to listen. She could still hear Mitch in the distance. What else? Was that a child sobbing? The sound was growing louder. Bud? Anxious, she looked around, hoping, praying.

  No, it was Ryan. Her heart plummeted. The older boy was running blindly along the opposite bank, weeping as he went. He was soaking wet, like her, and muddy from head to foot. Apparently, he’d been in the water, too, and had saved himself. If only Bud were big enough, strong enough, to do the same.

  More frantic than ever, Bree kept pace with Ryan by staying on a parallel course. This was a nightmare. It couldn’t really be happening. She hadn’t felt this helpless, this defeated, this alone, since the night her mother had died.

  As always, that memory triggered turbulent, unsettling emotions that filled her mind and heart. Yet this time was different. Bree was able to picture herself, not as a child but as a parent.

  Suddenly she realized that, unlike her mother, she was capable of loving others enough to put them first, to care about them more than she cared about her needs or wants, to give them the kind of altruistic love she’d been denied as a lonely, frightened little girl. And she owed her awakening to Mitch and his boys.

  None of the usual arguments surfaced to dissuade her, to make her question her conclusions. On the contrary, every beat of her heart was further affirmation that she was, indeed, a different person than she had been before she’d met the Fowlers. Before she’d accidentally fallen in love with Mitch.

  It was a miracle! And the answer to her long-ago prayers for healing after her mother’s untimely death. She owed her heavenly Father more thanks and praise than she’d ever be able to deliver.

  Right now, however, she hoped God would understand that she had more pressing concerns. Poor little Bud was lost, maybe fighting for his life.

  That thought almost made her cry out. She wanted to fall to her knees in anguish, to beat the ground with her fists and plead with God once again.

  Instead, she did what she knew she must. She breathed a simple prayer and kept going. “Father, help us! Please! I’m so sorry I doubted You.”

  It wasn’t very eloquent or very practiced, but it was the best she could do. And it was the most sincere prayer she’d ever prayed.

  As if in answer, she heard Mitch shout, “Bud!” at the top of his lungs. The call didn’t sound worried or plaintive, like the others had. It was the kind of triumphant cry a father would make if he’d located his missing child.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brianne arrived at the muddy, rock-edged pool seconds after Ryan did. Two dark heads were bobbing together in the water. The older boy didn’t hesitate. He ignored Bree’s screeched command—” Ryan, no!”—and jumped in, feet first.

  His splashdown was so close to his father and brother he made a wave that washed over them and temporarily kept Bree from seeing whether or not Bud was all right. It never occurred to her to sit on the creek bank and wait patiently for someone to eventually tell her.

  Instead, she followed Ryan’s lead, although with a lot less forward momentum.

  The current wasn’t nearly as swift as it had been in the steep canyon. The water came to her waist, and she waded to Mitch and the boys on leaden legs. Covering those few yards seemed to take an eternity.

  Her first indication that all was well was Mitch’s whoop of triumph. Holding Bud tight to his chest, he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to gaze at the little boy with so much love, Brianne wept for joy.

  Ryan had already joined his father and brother in their mutual hug. The instant Bree was close enough, she was included, too.

  It was hard for her to tell if the others were laughing or crying. Little wonder. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing, either. But who cared? All that mattered was that Bud was safe. They were all safe. And well. Her prayers had been answered. God was so good!

  Mitch’s hearty laugh warmed her in spite of the icy water and the aftereffects of her fatigue. Her answering grin was so wide it made her cheeks hurt—until she decided he might be laughing at her.

  She paddled her arms back and forth and braced her feet wide on the creek bottom to hold her position while she made a face at him. “Okay, mister. What’s so funny?”

  “You are. You should see yourself!”

  “Well, you’re not so spiffy, either,” Bree countered with a toss of her head and a swipe at the bangs plastered to her forehead. “At least I started out casually dressed.”

  “You mean you’re not still impressed with my suit and tie? How about the boys? Don’t they look nice?”

  “Wonderful.” Bree’s tone was filled with love. She reached out and ruffled Bud’s hair and would have done the same to Ryan if he hadn’t ducked around his father, out of her reach. “I’ve never seen them look more adorable.”

  Softening, she gazed into Mitch’s eyes and added, “Their daddy looks pretty good to me, too.”

  “You sure? We’re all awfully dirty.”

  “I know. I noticed. I don’t suppose you guys have a change of clothes with you, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  “That figures.”

  Mitch was chuckling. “I would have brought extra clothes if I’d known swimming was on today’s agenda.”

  “Never mind trying to make plans,” Bree said. “The way your family finds trouble, I think you should start carrying an overnight bag with you all the time. You’re bound to need it sooner or later.” She grinned. “Probably sooner.”

  “And maybe a life raft, too?”
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br />   “Good idea.” Brianne kept listing things for his amusement. “And sunscreen, and packets of food, and bottled water, and lots of towels. Oh, and a leash.”

  “For Barney?” Mitch asked.

  “No. For Bud’s bear.” She flashed a smile of encouragement at the soaking wet little boy and told him, “Your bear is fine, honey. I found him up the creek.”

  “You did?” The child’s voice was barely audible.

  “She sure did,” his father assured him. “I saw her. She jumped right in and rescued him.”

  “I could of done it,” Ryan grumbled.

  Brianne was too elated, too relieved, to take his grumpy mood seriously. He was giving her his usual testy, temperamental look, and she wasn’t about to let him get away with it. Not this time.

  Instead of making unwarranted apologies, she raised her arm and crooned, “Oh, Ryan…”

  The minute he turned his head to look at her she smacked the surface of the pool with the heel of her hand and sent a rooster tail of creek water right into his face.

  Sputtering, he blew water out of his nose and mouth. His eyes widened in shock, looking bigger and darker than she’d ever seen them. Before he had a chance to recover and complain to his father, Bree splashed him again.

  That second affront was all the boy could stand. He drew back his thin arm and retaliated.

  Mitch had glanced over to see how Ryan was reacting to Bree’s teasing. Unfortunately, the boy was so excited he failed to control his aim. Part of the spray he threw at Bree made it all the way to her face. The rest smacked into his father’s head.

  Feigning anger, Mitch roared and splashed Ryan. Ryan splashed him back. Bud was caught in the middle and getting well doused from both sides. He began to squeal and flail his arms, flinging droplets in no particular direction.

  Bree didn’t play favorites. She wildly sloshed as much water as she could at everyone. The advantage was clearly hers because she was the most mobile. Continuing to hold on to Bud gave Mitch only one free hand with which to defend himself, so she started to work her way around to his opposite side, hoping to limit his ability to strike back.

  Ryan had ducked behind his father and was holding on to the man’s broad shoulders, trying to use Mitch’s bulk as a shield.

  As soon as Mitch discovered what the boy was doing, he spun around and inundated the contentious eight-year-old. “Oh, no, you don’t. Take that!”

  “No, Dad, no!” He spit. Blew like a beached whale. “I give. I give!”

  “Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that.”

  “But Dad,” the boy yelled. “I didn’t start it.”

  “No, you didn’t, did you?”

  Mitch stopped splashing. Then suddenly, as if obeying a silent command, all three Fowlers turned on Bree.

  “Get her,” Mitch hollered.

  Ryan was all for it. “Yeah! Drown her!”

  “No!” Brianne had to keep her hands in front of her face in order to draw enough breath for a screech of protest, which meant she couldn’t fight back. When she saw Mitch swing Bud around so the boy could hang on to him piggyback style, she knew it was payback time. Mitch could use both hands. She was really in for it.

  He held out his arms and began to paddle water at her so fast it felt like he was dumping bucketfuls over her head. Burying her face in her hands, she squealed and turned away, heading for the nearest bank.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he shouted. “Come back here.”

  “No!” Bree stumbled, lost her balance.

  Mitch caught her from behind, closed his strong arms around her waist and lifted her half out of the shallow water. “Gotcha. Now try and get me wet.”

  “Let go,” she begged through her giggles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to splash you. I’ll never do it again. Honest.”

  “Dunk her, Dad. Dunk her,” Ryan urged.

  Mitch was chuckling. “How about if I kiss her, instead?”

  “No!” the boy said. “Dunk her.”

  “I will—if she doesn’t quit wiggling.”

  Brianne got the message. Gasping for breath, she stopped trying to pry loose his grip and forced herself to relax. “Okay, okay. I’m not fighting you anymore. See? Truce?”

  “It better last,” Mitch said. “No funny stuff.”

  She held up her hands in exaggerated surrender. “I’ll behave. I promise.”

  “Then what are we all standing here for?” Mitch said wryly. “Personally, I’m not crazy about becoming crawdad bait. Let’s get out.”

  By hanging together and helping each other, they managed to reach the bank without too much slipping, sliding and tripping.

  Mitch set Bud out of the water easily, then put his hands on Bree’s waist and gave her a boost, intending to do the same thing for her.

  Unfortunately, the bank was so slick in that particular spot she couldn’t get a firm hold. Losing traction, she slid into the pool—and into Mitch’s arms—with a splash and a giggle.

  “Lift me a couple of inches higher, and I’ll make it the next time,” she said.

  “You could put one foot in my hands and I could throw you up there, too, but I don’t recommend it.” He set her aside. “Stand right here. I’ll climb up and pull you out.”

  Ryan had already clambered out by himself when his father breached the bank and turned to give Bree a hand, as promised.

  As the furor died, Bree realized how totally spent she was. She found a flat, accommodating rock and plunked herself down on it to rest. Judging by the look on Mitch’s face when he joined her, he was exhausted, too.

  Bud wiggled into the narrow space between them and yawned.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Bree said. “I sure wish it wasn’t uphill all the way to my place.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. But it really isn’t as far as it felt like on the way down.”

  “Let’s hope not.” She sighed, stretched her legs in front of her and ran her hands over the damp skin to check for injury. To her delight, none of the scratches were deep. “That was some trip.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll live. I think the cold water actually helped. Before I got wet, my ribs were sore, too.”

  “We’ll probably all be pretty sore tomorrow,” Mitch said.

  He smiled, leaned closer and put his arm around Bree’s shoulders to pull her to him as he glanced at his youngest. Bud had laid his head on her lap and was already half asleep. “Except maybe for him. He wasn’t quite as stressed as the rest of us were.”

  “Which reminds me. We need to pick up his teddy bear on our way home. I think I can remember about where I left it.”

  Ryan spoke. “Hey, Dad! I lost a shoe. Can I go back in the creek and look for it?”

  “No way.” Mitch was far too thankful to waste energy getting mad over something that trivial. Instead, he teased, “I thought I told you guys to keep your new clothes clean.”

  Bree gave a little giggle. “Hey, we can’t get much cleaner than we are now.”

  “I never thought I’d see you involved in a mess like this.”

  “I learned everything I know about having fun from you and the boys,” she told him, flipping her wet hair with a quick toss of her head. “Well, that was exciting. What shall we do next?”

  “It’ll be pretty hard to top our trip down the canyon. How about we quit for the day?”

  “Good idea. What do you say we all go back to my house, get cleaned up and fix something to eat? I’m suddenly starving.”

  Ryan looked askance. “Not me. Not if she’s going to cook.”

  Mitch laughed. “Tell you what. We’ll all cook. I vote we skip the exploding potatoes this time, though. They’re too hard to scrape off the oven walls.”

  “Picky, picky, picky.” Bree scowled at father and sons while she stroked Bud’s damp hair. “You guys had better be nice to me, or I’ll go lock myself in the pantry and eat every cookie I can find. And when I’m done with the baked stuff, I’ll start on the cake mixes.”

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sp; “Looks like you’d better cool it, Ryan.” Mitch’s happiness was so overwhelming he spoke directly from the heart. “You don’t want a mother who doesn’t share her cookies.”

  That brought Bud to full wakefulness. He sat up. “Mother?”

  “Yes, mother,” Mitch said, giving his older son the sternest stare he could manage, to reinforce his decision.

  Looking from Bud to Ryan, Mitch decided Bree was a lot more surprised than either boy was. He gave her another quick squeeze, then released her and raked his wet hair back to smooth it. “I guess I got a little ahead of myself again, didn’t I? I was going to take you out and impress you with my gentlemanly ways before I talked more about marriage. Guess it’s too late for that now.” He cleared his throat. “So, will you marry me, Ms. Bailey?”

  “You’re asking me? Just like that?”

  She’d been staring at her scraped legs and ruined sandals. She jumped to her feet, arms outstretched. “Look at me. I’ve just slid down a mountain. I’ve been dunked in a mud hole. And I’m dripping like a drowned rat. Where’s the romance?”

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  “Deciding to get married isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s a big step, Mitch.”

  “You still want me to court you? After all this?”

  Hands fisted on her hips, Brianne made a pretense of being upset. “A few normal dates certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

  He couldn’t keep a straight face. “Honey, with the start you and I’ve had, I doubt anything we do will seem normal from here on.”

  “Give it a shot.” She stood firm, eyebrows raised, waiting.

  “Okay. I’ll try. Just remember, I haven’t done this in a long time.”

  The boys were edging closer, giving both adults their rapt attention.

  Mitch noticed and hesitated before saying, “Ms. Bailey, would you like to go to dinner and a movie with me?”

  “That’s better. When?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. I think the theater over in Highland is showing a full-length cartoon this weekend. If we get cleaned up and grab an early dinner we can make the first showing.”