"Miss, I need to go for help." There was an old gate from his paddock he could use to carry her on. And blankets, ropes, several grooms to help…
"Please… I don't want to… be alone. Is there a way…?"
Garrett frowned. "But I need assistance. Someone to—"
"I'm not… as badly injured as I first thought. I—" A sob rose from below. "Please."
Poor woman. She must be so frightened. Garrett closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He had not the heart to leave her. He bit back a curse and stood. "Stay still, miss. I'll fetch a rope from my saddlebag." He hurried toward Ashe, wrenched the bag open, and yanked on the end of the rope he always carried for emergencies. Garrett swallowed hard and shook his head. This was most certainly an emergency.
His hands shook as he strung out the rope. What if he couldn't rescue her? He couldn't just leave her down there to die. There must be a way for him to accomplish this task. Garrett eyed his horse as an idea formed. Would it work? Fortunately, he had a horse that was obedient to a fault. Will Ashe stay true to his reputation?
He tied one end of the rope through the D-rings on Ashe's saddle and hoped the girth wouldn't break or slip. He led the horse closer to the edge of the hole and gave Ashe the signal to remain still.
Then Garrett crawled to the well's opening, cupped his hand around the side of his mouth, and shouted. "I'm coming down for you. I'll try to land as near the center as I can. Please stay toward one side of the well." He waited.
"I'll try."
Relief flooded Garrett's body. The woman was at least still coherent.
He tightened his grasp on the rope and slid over the top on his stomach, feet first. Ashe staggered back a few steps when Garrett's weight hit the rope.
"Ashe. Stand."
Garrett walked backward down the well's wall, letting the rope out hand over hand. The rope burned his palms when he lost his grip and slid for a few seconds. His heart jumped and he sucked in air. What a catastrophe it would be if he fell and injured himself as well.
The farther he descended into the pit, the lower the temperature dropped, and his earlier perspiration vanished. In its place were cold chills, like icy fingers down his back. How long had the poor woman been down there? It would be a miracle if she didn't end up with an illness, if she even survived the experience.
Garrett's muscles strained as he gripped the rope in his gloved hands. His boots squeaked against the damp stone wall. Would the rope hold up under the weight of two people? He finally touched solid ground under one foot and loosened his grasp on the rope, but didn't let go.
She had to be here somewhere… He waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There, behind him, a shapeless form huddled against the wall, her breathing loud like that of a frightened deer.
"Miss? Are you in tremendous pain from your ankle?"
Garrett's eyes finished adjusting. The woman was small. Long dark tendrils of hair hung loose from her hat. Large, wide eyes glistened in the gloom, disappeared when she blinked, then reappeared. Blue, brown, green? Impossible to tell in the low light.
"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so." Her eyes glistened. Was she crying? "I thank you for rescuing me. I thought…" She glanced up toward the top of the well. "How will we get out? It's too far and I c-can't climb with my injury."
"Leave it to me. I have a plan. Can you stand?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure."
"All right, I'm going to lean down close to you and help you up. Are you ready?"
"I think s-so."
Garrett leaned down and took her hand. Her fingers were icy. He gently pulled her toward him, gritting his teeth when she gasped from the pain. She lifted her face to him, closed her eyes briefly, and then nodded. "I c-can do it."
He shook out the rope's kinks, watching her chest rise and fall. One breath, two… the third slower and deeper. She straightened against the stone wall, balancing on one foot, holding the other foot just above the ground and leaning her palms against the wall.
Yes, she'll make it to the top. Reassured, Garrett wound the rope around them and tied it in a slipknot. Her slight form was pressed against him, shivering, icy, damp. She gripped his arms. There wasn't enough room between them for her hands to be anywhere else.
"Now I'm going to signal my horse up above to walk on, pulling us up. The signal will be loud, so cover your ears."
He waited until both of her hands were over her ears and then gave a shrill, long whistle. His heartbeat thumped painfully against his ribs when the rope remained still. Had something happened to Ashe? What would Garrett do if that were the case? A few more agonizing seconds passed. The rope stirred. Garrett's breath blew out in a relieved whoosh.
He wrapped his arms around the woman, ducking his chin over her, and pressed her head against his chest. "Miss, pull your arms in. Place your hands on my chest." She slid her hands from his shoulders, slowly snaking her fingers between them, inch by inch until her elbows no longer stuck out.
"Good. Try to stay as close to me as possible."
She nodded. Her breathing quickened, blowing tiny puffs against Garrett's neck.
The rope jerked, yanking them around. Garrett stuck his elbow out, pushing against the stone. The poor woman would be in agony if her injured leg banged the wall. The rope spun again and Garrett kicked with his boot. He squeezed the woman tight. She yelped. But better to be crushed to his chest than scraped unmercilessly against that rough stone.
"Close your eyes, miss." Garrett shut his, too, as tiny pieces of stone rained down from where the rope slid over the well's lip. Closer to the top, the ride smoothed out. Garrett swallowed against a lump in his throat, thankful they were almost safe.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes wide. Sunlight kissed her brown hair and reflected from her eyes, dark brown. Pink cheeks flushed. Her white teeth closed on her bottom lip, full and lush. Garrett's heartbeat quickened and his mouth went dry.
Under ordinary circumstances, Garrett would not, of course, be this intimate with a stranger. However, this circumstance was far from ordinary. And he suddenly found himself quite taken with the way her soft body cradled in the comfort of his. He hoped, in her current state, she wouldn't notice his physical reaction to her closeness.
Garrett tore his gaze from the beautiful woman who clung to him and glanced up. The tops of swaying grasses were visible above the rim of the opening. Almost there. He let out a sigh as the horse hauled them farther up the stone wall. "Hold tight, I'm able to see the top."
Another jerk higher and suddenly Garrett's head warmed in the sun. Halfway across the clearing, Ashe tugged again, his head down. The saddle was still in place and Garrett gave a gratified prayer it stayed intact. The horse would get a long rubdown and a sweet bran mash that night.
One final jerk of the rope, and Garrett dug his elbow into the ground, leveraging him and the woman up and over the well's lip. Another whistle cued Ashe to stop. Garrett untied the rope and laid the woman gently back on the ground. But her legs still dangled too close to the pit. He gathered her tight in his arms, pulled her back farther, and again laid her on the ground. She'd felt cold against him. If only he had a blanket to wrap her in.
He lay down beside her and sucked in a breath, his heartbeat slowing to a normal rhythm. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was shallow and quick. Her skin looked soft as rose petals after a rain. A pinkish hue colored the curve of her cheek, in an otherwise pale face. Would it feel as soft as it looked? He opened his fingers, reached forward slowly, but pulled back, clenching his fist. He could not, no, he would not allow himself that privilege.
He scooted away, putting an appropriate distance between them. "Where are you hurt?"
She pointed toward her leg, but didn't open her eyes. "My a-ankle. I'm just catching my breath. I… I'll be fine in a moment."
The rise and fall of her chest slowed. Color returned to her face and lips. Her shivering stopped. Thank heavens!
Garrett stood
and stretched and then walked toward Ashe and untied the rope from the saddle. His hands shook. How treacherous the rescue had been! How much it reminded him of a past he would rather forget.
He wrapped his arms around the horse's neck, and whispered, "What a good fellow you are, Ashe. I am in your debt." Ashe nodded his head and snorted out a deep breath. Garrett patted the horse on the rump and watched him plod away, head lowering toward the grass.
Garrett turned back toward the woman. Her brown eyes, now opened wide, blinked. Long black lashes brushed against her cheek, fanning around her eyes like petals on a daisy. What lay behind those dark eyes? What secrets did they hold? She struggled to sit up, but whimpered and lay back down, her hand tightening to a fist.
"Miss, you are in grave need of a physician. I know it will be difficult for you, but I must put you on my horse with me and ride back to my home. I will send for the local physician as soon as we are back at the house."
The woman nodded, but her eyes closed with the effort. She was still breathing but… had she lost consciousness? Guilt hit Garrett hard in the chest. He was the one ultimately responsible if tragedy befell this woman from her fall. All those years ago, someone had carelessly thrown another woman into that very well, tossing her aside as if her life were nothing more than refuse. If only someone had looked after her before it had gotten to that point.
He gritted his teeth. If it took Garrett until his last breath, he would take care of this woman and make this up to her. Somehow.
Another great read from Astraea Press
Chapter One
The tears started to fall even before I opened the stiff door to the nursing home. The only thing worse than saying goodbye was not saying goodbye. The wall's cream color blurred as I walked slowly down the hall toward Nanna's room. As I passed each wooden door, I glanced at the bronzed nameplate beside it. Each person within these walls had once been young like me, full of life, and now… now they waited.
Thankfully, Nanna wasn't fully aware of her surroundings; ignorance was bliss in her case. Usually the moment I opened the door to her room, a gentle smile would greet me. On a good day, she'd recognize me and try to fuss over my clothes or hair but today… today I knew that wasn't going to happen. The hospice nurse had called earlier urging me to come and say a final goodbye. My heart clenched.
As I drew closer to the door, I paused. I reached up to touch the nameplate, knowing someday soon it wouldn't be there anymore. Elinore Westin. With a heavy sigh, I turned the handle and entered, immediately assaulted by the sounds of an oxygen machine and the subtle scent of cleaning fumes. The bulky hospital bed made my grandmother's small frame appear even more delicate. She rested quietly beneath a pale pink quilt she and I had made years ago. Everything about her screamed fragile. I walked over to her bed and placed my hand on hers. The cool temperature of her skin gave me an involuntary shiver. There wasn’t much time left.
"Nanna? It's me, Jocelyn. I'm here to keep you company for a while. I know you missed me — I sure missed you since yesterday." There was no response, but I wasn't really expecting one. Nanna's hand began to warm as I held it gently. The soft white hair that was usually pulled into a knot at the base of her neck was carefully combed and draped over her shoulders. I brushed a few wisps away from her face and bent to kiss her wrinkled cheek. The familiar scent of her vanilla perfume comforted me. I leaned back so my tears wouldn't fall on her skin and wiped my face furiously. The nurse for hospice had said hearing was the last sense to go, so I knew she could hear my quiet sobs. In spite of my grief, I grinned. I could hear her voice in my mind berating me for shedding so many tears over her. She was ready to pass on. In truth, she had been ready for quite a while. She missed Grandpa Jakob. Even though she wasn't aware of reality all the time, she'd never forgotten him. Soon she'd see him again. The thought of their reunion comforted me.
"Nanna, when you see Grandpa, make sure you tell him I love him, okay? That's your job. If you have to leave me, you have to take my love with you, all right? I'll stay a little while longer, Nanna, but I know you need me to say goodbye, to let you know I'll be all right without you, and I will. I promise. I'll keep your aloe vera plant alive, and your Christmas cactus that Grandpa Jake bought you. Your quilts will be put on my bed and, most of all, I'll remember everything you taught me, and I'll keep our books safe and re-read them, always thinking of you."
In saying the last part, I glanced at the bookshelves around the room all filled with the Regency romances we had both read many times, cover to cover. Of all the things she had forgotten, she'd never lost her love of reading. Her borderline obsession with the Regency era was hilarious. When I'd been little, we would often pretend to be at an important ball. Nanna would wear an old ball gown, and I would put on my best Sunday dress. We'd twirl, dance, and pretend to drink watered-down lemonade at Almack's. During those times of make-believe she'd taught me the waltz, quadrille, and all the other popular dances till I could do them with my eyes closed. We'd had tea parties and scones, and she'd taught me to make clotted cream. My stomach rumbled as I thought of it, reminding me I had again forgotten to eat.
Nanna had grown up in England. Though most of her adult life was spent in the States, her crisp accent hadn't faded. My parents would often tease me that I sounded more British than American because of how I'd mimic my beloved Nanna's speech. For all intents and purposes, Nanna had raised me after my parents had been killed in a plane crash. At the tender age of ten, I had no one else left.
Though I could never replace a parent, Nanna did her best to give me the best childhood possible. She and Grandpa Jake were my solid ground, and their love seasoned my life. Grandpa passed away my junior year of high school, leaving grandma and I the only ones left in our family. When Nanna died, I'd be truly alone. I placed my hands over hers again and laid my head down. The sweet smell of vanilla and the sterile smell of bleach both comforted me and broke me further. Each moment that passed was one less that she would be in this world, and time was running out. Warm tears trailed down my face and soaked the pink quilt as I silently mourned.
Feeling a gentle hand touch my shoulder, I jolted upright.
"Miss? I'm here to take care of Elinore. I need you to move so I can give her another dose of morphine. I'm so sorry to disturb you, but I don't want her in any pain, and I'm sure you don't either." The woman was so gentle in her words, tears stung new. I got up and moved away, giving Nanna one last kiss on her forehead. "I love you. I love you so much."
After administering the medication, the nurse turned to me with shining eyes brimming with tears. A moment later she walked over and gave me a gentle hug. "Don't worry; she's peaceful. She's not in any pain now, and I'm sure she knows you love her."
"Thank you," I managed as I wiped more tears away.
Picking up my purse, I gave Nanna one last glance before I walked to the door. As I turned the doorknob, I whispered one more time the words I wanted her to take with her to heaven. "I love you."
Chapter Two
Packing up Nanna's belongings was even more difficult than enduring her funeral. Each piece of furniture had a memory, each quilt a story, and every book was a piece of the rarest treasure to me. As I picked up her recent favorite, The Redemption of Lord Rawlings by Rachel Van Dyken, I opened up the first page. Closing my eyes, I remembered reading in Nanna's library by the fire in August a few years ago. She always said a good romance deserved a good setting. That particular book needed a roaring fire to create the perfect ambiance. At first I had thought she was having another spell, especially when I began to sweat, but when she started the second chapter I didn't feel the heat anymore. The crackle of wood and the faint smell of smoke were the perfect support to bring the story to life.
Flipping to one of my favorite scenes, I noticed the page was written over with thick black marker in Nanna's familiar handwriting. She must have written it a while ago. The steadiness of her hand had failed more than nine months before her passing. The black strokes o
f her penmanship caused a rueful grin to tilt my lips. For all her elegant ways, she had loved black felt-tipped markers. The bold black writing was one of the few things she could read in the last year of her life. The writing was distinct, and as I read the words her voice echoed in my mind. "Jocelyn, my dove. I miss you…" My grin faded into fresh pain as a sob broke free. I reached for a box of tissues and pulled one out just in time to catch a tear before it dropped on the page.
"I miss you, and I hate to think of you being all alone. Though you have friends, I know you'll be feeling bereft. So as my parting gift to you, I give you time. Strange as it may sound, as I came forward to find my Jakob, I'm sending you back to find yours. You have been taught well for this day. Remember what you have learned, and it will serve you. I have loved you with every heartbeat, and though my heart is silent now, in Heaven my soul awaits our blessed reunion."
The words blurred on the page, and I blinked forcing the tears to fall before continuing. "I'll be sure to have some strong hot tea, a good book, and lots of hugs for you when we finally meet again, but it won't be for some time, my dear. Until then have fun, live in joy, and never forget to keep a proper distance when you waltz. With my whole heart, Nanna."
The tissue was soaked, so I reached for another as I re-read her note. What are you talking about, Nanna? The thought of her being gone closed my throat — the pain was still so fresh and raw — but her letter was a balm. The words she'd written reminded me that we'd be together again, someday. That gave me a small measure of comfort, as if she were hugging my heart. The note captivated my curiosity, but I needed to finish packing her room. I tucked the book safely in my purse and boxed up the remaining ones to be carried to my house — the house Nanna had left to me. The final drawer I checked held Nanna's few items of jewelry she insisted remain with her. Among them was a pearl teardrop necklace she’d worn often when I was a child. With care, I picked it up and placed it over my head and around my neck, fastening the clasp. I held it out in front of me and caressed the luminescent pearl. Carefully, I took it off and placed it back in its box and packed up the other treasures.
Taming Wilde Page 12
