“Can you hear me?” Wheeler asked.
Hal nodded slightly. “Where—” he said, then choked violently.
Wheeler held Hal’s head higher. He spit out more water, then took a deep breath. Tom, who’d barely been breathing himself, did the same. Hal opened his eyes and looked around. The men clustered around him.
“Wh-what . . . ?” Hal asked groggily.
At the sound of Hal’s voice, all the men relaxed. Wheeler glanced over at Tom.
“You need to get some pressure on that cut. Rick, grab the first-aid kit from the raft.”
“What happened?” Hal managed.
“You and Tom were knocked out of the raft by a boulder that was a few inches beneath the water. Usually it’s visible, and I can steer around it. You’ll have to ask Tom about everything after that. I didn’t see you again until the two of you floated around the bend. You were unconscious with a quart of river water in your lungs.”
Rick returned with the first-aid kit. Wheeler took out a thick piece of gauze and handed it to Tom, who pressed it against his chin. Wheeler then tore the wrapping from a pair of butterfly bandages.
“Let’s see if this will do the trick,” he said, squatting next to Tom.
Tom tilted up his head. Wheeler removed the bloody gauze from Tom’s chin, applied a fresh piece, and stretched two bandages over the wound.
“That should hold until we get out of here. You may need a few stitches.” He turned to Hal. “Can you drink something?”
“Yeah. It’s weird, but I’m thirsty.”
“Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
With Wheeler and Nick on opposite sides supporting him, Hal got to his feet and unsteadily made his way across the rocks to the raft.
“What happened in the river?” Rick asked Tom.
Tom didn’t answer. They reached the raft. Hal leaned against the inflated side and took a few sips of water. Wheeler handed Tom a bottle of water and an energy bar. The men stood in a silent circle for a few moments. Merely being alive was something worth savoring. Hal ate a small piece of apple that Wheeler cut with his knife.
“Man, this tastes good,” he said.
Tom felt slightly queasy. He nibbled on the energy bar.
“I remember my foot getting caught on something and going under the water,” Hal said. “That’s it, until I started coughing up water.”
“Did you see how he got free?” Wheeler asked Tom.
Tom took another drink of water and bit off more energy bar. The other four men stared at Tom.
“Counselor, you’re not going to dodge our questions,” Rick said. “Go ahead and give a complete account before I have to get rough with you in your weakened condition.”
Tom swallowed the bite and told them what happened. Hal’s face turned pale as he listened. Rick shook his head when Tom described his efforts to break off the limb.
“That tree hasn’t been down in the water for very long,” Wheeler said. “It sounds like Hal’s foot got lodged in a tangle of branches, and the current pushed his body forward. That sort of thing can also happen with submerged rocks.”
Tom glanced at Hal’s right ankle. It was red and scraped. Hal reached down and rubbed it, then looked up at Tom.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You should thank him.” Tom pointed at Wheeler. “He’s the one who brought you back.”
“And gave you mouth-to-mouth,” Rick said with a short laugh. “That must have been nasty.”
Wheeler reached out and patted Hal on the shoulder. “At least you didn’t spit up.”
The men rested on the rocks, eating snacks and recovering. The sun crested the trees, warmed their bodies, and restored their souls.
“I feel like I’ve been in a mixed martial arts cage fight,” Hal said, standing up to stretch. “Every muscle in my body is aching.”
“Both of them?” Rick asked.
“Everything in you was fighting to survive,” Wheeler said.
Tom moved his shoulders and raised his arms. His muscles felt fine, but his chin had started to hurt.
“How about you, Tom?” Rick asked.
“I’m okay except for the place where Hal head-butted me.”
Wheeler collected the trash from the other men. “Do you want to finish the trip?” he asked them. “If not, I can hike out to the road and come back with a vehicle.”
“It’s up to Hal,” Rick replied. “I don’t want to make him get back in the raft if it will cause a problem. He’s been through more than enough already.”
“I’ll be okay if I can sit in the middle of the boat,” Hal answered. “I’m not ready to lean over the water with a paddle.”
“We can do that,” Wheeler said. “There will still be rough spots, but we’ll take the safest way through the remaining rapids.”
They put the boat in the water. Wheeler placed Nick and Rick up front, with Tom in the rear and Hal in the middle sitting on the floor. There was some paddling required, but Wheeler positioned the boat at the entry point of each stretch of white water and expertly guided it through.
During one lull, Wheeler caught Tom’s eye and motioned toward Hal, who was sitting in the bottom of the boat with his knees pulled up to his chest.
“Quick thinking,” Wheeler said in a low voice. “I’ve never lost anyone on this river. Today was as close as it gets.”
Tom pointed up.
Wheeler nodded. “Yeah, I was praying too.”
The last major stretch of white water was Hell’s Hole. Other rafters were off to the side resting for a few minutes before tackling the class 4 rapids, but Wheeler didn’t stop. The raft bucked and reared. Tom saw Hal clutching the ropes that ran around the inside of the boat. His knuckles were white.
Then it was over. The water calmed. It was a short paddle ride to the takeout point. When they reached it, a man in his early twenties wearing an Ocoee Adventures T-shirt was waiting for them on the bank.
“What took you so long?” he asked as he grabbed the raft and helped pull it onto the bank.
“We had a close call,” Wheeler replied.
“And I’m banned from further rafting trips,” Hal added, stepping out of the boat.
“I didn’t say that,” Wheeler said.
“It’s a self-imposed ban,” Hal answered. “I don’t think I’ll be going into the deep end of a swimming pool for a while.”
Wheeler and his helper put the raft on top of a van and drove the men upriver. Tom sat behind Wheeler and stared out the window. Other groups in rafts were smiling and laughing as they bobbed up and down in the water. Tom tried to spot the place where they’d fallen out of the raft.
“Is that where we fell in?” he asked, tapping Wheeler on the arm.
“Close, but you can’t see it from the road,” Wheeler answered. “The next trip I make, I’m going to check the tree where Hal was caught and report it. They may send a crew to clear it away if it’s deemed an extreme hazard.”
They reached the bathhouse and changed into regular clothes. Gathering outside, they looked like the same group that had started the trip a couple of hours earlier, but a near-death experience has an impact on young men who think they’re going to live forever.
“If you ever decide to lift your self-imposed ban,” Wheeler said to Hal, “I run a lot of wide-body rafts on the river. It’s a different trip, not nearly as close to the edge.”
“Thanks, but don’t count on me to pay your bills.” Hal shook Wheeler’s hand. “Saving my life is another matter. Send me an invoice for that, and I’ll gladly pay it.”
“Included in the trip.”
The men said their good-byes and piled into Rick’s SUV. Tom and Hal sat in the backseat. In ten minutes the river was out of sight. Rick put in a CD. The men rode in silence. About halfway home, Hal leaned over to Tom.
“I’m sorry about your dad. I never met him, but Rick says he was a good man.”
“Yes, I’d like to think he tried to save the man who dr
owned with him.”
“If there’s anything I can ever do for you, let me know,” Hal said. “I mean it. Wheeler gave me CPR, but he wouldn’t have gotten the chance if you hadn’t gotten me untangled from that tree.”
“Somehow I just knew I needed to break off the limb.”
It was late afternoon when they pulled into Rick’s driveway. The farther they got from the river, the less real the danger seemed, and Hal’s sense of humor returned. As soon as they stopped, the front door of the house opened and Tiffany came out. She greeted Rick with a kiss on the cheek, but her eyes were on Tom when she did it.
“What happened to your chin?” she asked. “Did you hit it on a rock?”
“Harder than that,” Hal responded. “My head.”
“Not exactly his head,” Rick corrected. “It was Hal’s helmet. It cracked Tom on the chin while he was saving Hal’s life.”
“You’re kidding,” Tiffany said.
“I wish he was,” Hal replied. “Tom and I fell out of the boat. My foot got caught in a branch, and the current pulled me under. Tom broke the branch and set me loose. I had so much water in my lungs the guide had to give me CPR to revive me.”
Tiffany reached up and gently touched Tom’s chin. He winced and pulled away.
“You should get that checked at the hospital,” she said. “Unless you get it stitched up, it might leave a nasty scar.”
“Even if you don’t get stitches, it’s going to be a big plus with the ladies,” Rick said. “Every girl who sees it and asks how you got it will find out you’re a hero.”
“I’m not a hero. I reacted in the moment.”
“Sounds like you’re a hero to me,” Tiffany replied.
Seeing Tiffany caused Tom’s head to spin again. He had to get away.
“See you later,” he said to the group. “I’m going to the ER.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Tiffany asked.
“No thanks,” Tom said quickly.
“Call if you need anything,” she said. “Anytime.”
Tom checked his chin in the rearview mirror of his car. It was a puffy mess held together by two butterfly strips that were beginning to lose their grip. He drove to the hospital where an ER doctor, who told Tom that his ambition was to become a plastic surgeon, closed the wound with five neat stitches.
______
Tom woke up sore Monday morning and took a hot shower to relax his muscles. Elias didn’t appear for breakfast, and Tom walked quietly down the hall to the old man’s bedroom. Rover followed after him and sniffed at the bottom of the closed door. Tom knocked softly. There was no answer. He knocked louder.
“Come in,” Elias said in a groggy voice.
Tom opened the door. Elias’s bedroom was sparsely furnished with a high poster bed, an antique chest of drawers, and a walnut nightstand. A small rug covered the bare wooden floor to the right of the bed. The old man, his white hair sticking out at odd angles, rubbed his eyes.
“Are you okay?” Tom asked. “I fixed oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar for breakfast.”
“Leave it on the stove but turn off the burner. I’ll be up later. I didn’t sleep much last night. The Lord kept me up for a few hours.”
“Were you in the study?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
Tom backed out of the room. Rover moaned.
“Can Rover stay in here?” Tom asked. “He’ll probably sleep on the rug until you’re ready to get up.”
“Sure.”
Tom left his drooling dog and mystic uncle at the house.
______
When he arrived at the office, Bernice’s car was parked out front. The secretary was sitting at her desk, a cane propped up against the wall near her chair.
“Good morning,” Tom said. “You didn’t have to come in. How are you feeling?”
“I should be asking you that question,” Bernice replied, pointing to Tom’s chin.
“I had an accident—”
“No need to tell me,” Bernice interrupted. “I already heard what happened on the river. Jeanne Tucker called last night before I went to bed and told me you saved Hal Millsap’s life.”
“How did she find out about it?”
“I think she heard about it from a woman who takes care of Hal’s dogs when he’s out of town. Of course, Jeanne thought I should know since I work here.”
“That makes sense.”
Bernice peered through her glasses at Tom’s face. “Is the cut on your chin the only injury you have?”
“Yes.”
“Sue Ann Margraf phoned after I hung up with Jeanne to ask about you. She saw your car in the parking lot at the ER and heard your ear almost got cut off by a tree limb. It had me worried.”
“The hospital isn’t supposed to give out information about a patient’s care.”
“I don’t see how it matters.” Bernice shrugged. “Sue Ann was obviously wrong. I can see from here that your ears are fine. I’m not sure how her story got started.”
The door opened. Tom turned around as a man in a deputy sheriff’s uniform entered.
“Are you J. Thomas Crane, executor of the estate of John A. Crane?” the young man asked.
“Yes,” Tom replied.
“I have a subpoena for you,” the deputy replied, handing Tom an envelope.
The return address on the envelope was the Etowah County District Attorney’s Office. The envelope was sealed shut. The deputy left.
“What’s that about?” Bernice asked.
Tom loosened the corner of the flap with his index finger. “I don’t know.”
chapter
SEVENTEEN
Tom removed the subpoena from the envelope. It was a standard form issued by the DA’s office with Judge Caldwell’s signature stamped at the bottom. Because it was a form, the judge probably didn’t know anything about it.
You are hereby ordered to produce and deliver for inspection any and all records related to the representation by the late John A. Crane, attorney-at-law, of Harold Addington, deceased, of Etowah County, Georgia, of any sort, wherever situated, without exception.
/s/Nathan Caldwell, Judge of Superior Court
The date and time for compliance was set for Wednesday morning at 9:00 a.m. in front of Judge Caldwell.
“Charlie Williams wants all the records I have related to my father’s representation of Harold Addington,” Tom said.
“Addington’s crazy daughter is behind this,” Bernice said tersely. “I can’t believe Charlie is letting her manipulate him into serving a subpoena on you.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
Tom didn’t answer.
“Tell me,” Bernice continued. “When it comes to the office, I know how to keep things confidential. Your daddy trusted me, and you can too.”
Tom sat down beside Bernice’s desk. “It’s complicated. Charlie was asking questions about this before I met Rose.”
“But I already told you that your daddy didn’t do anything except talk to Harold Addington about fishing.”
It was a moment of decision for Tom. Should he tell Bernice about the designated trust account and the issues related to it or not? He pressed his lips together.
“I hope you’re right,” he said. “All I can do is show up in court with an empty folder and hope that satisfies Charlie’s curiosity.”
“Are you going to let the Addington family know about the subpoena?”
“I have to. They have a right to be there with an attorney representing them.”
Bernice stared at Tom. He could tell she suspected something.
“If the Addington girl brings up her silly claim that your daddy charged a fee for work he didn’t do, I hope Judge Caldwell holds her in contempt of court,” she said with a sniff.
“He’s not going to hold her in contempt for asking a question, but the judge will ask for proof, just like I did.”
To
m retreated into the office and closed the door. Taking out his cell phone, he called Arthur Pelham. The head of Pelham Financial answered on the second ring.
“Tom, how are you?” Arthur asked. “Rick told me about your close call on the river. Sounds like you were a real hero. I appreciate you saving Hal Millsap. He’s doing a fine job for us.”
“Nothing stays private in Bethel, does it?”
“No.” Arthur laughed. “That’s the benefit and the curse of a small town. It keeps you honest.”
“Speaking of private information, I received a subpoena this morning from Charlie Williams. He wants all the information I have about my father’s dealings with Harold Addington. I have to respond on Wednesday morning. I was waiting to hear from you about Addington.”
“I set that process in motion immediately after we talked in Bethel, and I’m still working on that,” Arthur answered in a serious tone of voice. “Things are moving faster than I thought. What are you going to give them?”
“Nothing that would cause embarrassment to Pelham Financial; however, once the district attorney gets involved, it’s out of my control. Has Charlie Williams been in touch with anyone at your company?”
“Not yet.”
“There could be a subpoena on its way to you right now, or Williams may wait to expand his investigation until after I respond.”
“Unless I’m forced to get involved, I’m going to rely on you to keep me abreast of any new developments. Are you sure this has to do with what we discussed the other day?”
“What else could it be?”
“I don’t know.” Arthur cleared his throat. “But if it has to do with the same situation, it means there is a hole in our firm’s security system. That concerns me greatly. You’re doing what you can, which I appreciate. Will a representative of Harold Addington’s estate be in court on Wednesday?”
“I have to notify his family of the hearing. His daughter, Rose, is the executrix of the estate.”
“What do you think the judge will do?”
“I hope nothing.”
“Good. Once this subpoena is behind us, you can move forward to rectify this wrong in a discreet way. Everything is being put together and should be complete by the end of the week. I know you’d like to close the books on this and move on.”
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