Honoring Lena

by Sara Blackard

  The trees opened up to overlook a valley with what she hoped was Little Jack Creek below. Bright pink fireweed covered the valley floor, while charred trees stood like ghosts of their past selves, still reaching for the sky. The beauty that could bloom from destruction was evident in nature’s rebirth. Would this be what her life became?

  “Wow. This is gorgeous.” Marshall’s awe reflected her own.

  Carter rubbed his nose against her neck and then glanced around, his eyes squinting in confusion. Then, as if realizing where he was, he perked up, his head whipping around as he took everything in. Lena squeezed him in a hug. She couldn’t believe how much of her heart he’d taken over.

  “Eena!” Carter’s legs pumped against her body like he was revving up to take off. “It’s a bear!”

  “Hey, good eyes, buddy.” Lena pulled Carter out of the sling and shifted him to her other hip to get a better look.

  Sure enough, farther down the hilltop, a sow huffed, her ears turned in their direction. Lena stepped to the slope’s edge and searched the hillside for a way down. They might have to go the opposite direction from the bear before they could make it to the valley floor.

  “Three bears, Eena!” Carter shrieked in her ear.

  Lena whipped her head to the bear. Two cubs stood on their hind legs to investigate the strange animals on their turf. A mama bear was nothing to mess with. Getting distance between them and the animals just became priority.

  As she turned to motion the way she wanted them to go, the ground beneath her feet shifted. Her stomach flew into her throat in a strangled gasp.

  “Marshall,” she choked out just before the ground disappeared from under her feet.

  The scream from Carter chilled her bones. She tucked her body around his, praying that he wouldn’t get hurt. Her back smashed into solid ground and searing pain shot up her arm. The air whooshed from her lungs as darkness engulfed her.

  Twenty

  Marshall picked his way down the hill, the slow pace grating at his nerves. His heart still hadn’t gone back into his chest and it threatened to choke him. Carter cried as he pushed against Lena’s unmoving body. His frantic calling of her name made Marshall’s heart pound faster and faster with each second. Was she dead? Was Carter hurt? How would he get them to help if she was seriously injured? What would he do if they were both hurt?

  “Daddy, help!” Carter’s cry focused Marshall on what needed done.

  “I’m coming, buddy.” He jumped down from a tuft of grass, surprised when his feet hit sand. “I’m almost there.”

  Taking a quick scan of the hilltop, he found it empty and blew out a breath of relief. At least he didn’t have to contend with bears attacking on top of everything else. The sow and cubs had shot into the woods when chaos had shattered their quiet afternoon.

  Marshall slid down the sand like it was snow, keeping his balance so he didn’t end up in a heap like Lena. The closer he got, the more his stomach knotted. Even from halfway down the hill, he could see the blood smeared across her face. Please, God, don’t let her be dead too.

  Why had Marshall opened his heart again? The world was just determined to rip it out. He’d brought this on her. Unless he changed his course for the future, he’d likely keep bringing pain on her. Carter, as well. If they survived, maybe he should just let Lena take Carter far away where neither of them could be harmed from his decisions.

  Could he do that? Could he be unselfish long enough for them to escape? He scanned Carter as he reached the bottom of the hill and ran toward them. His son had dirt and sand covering him from head to toe. Blood smeared down his left cheek.

  Tears stung Marshall’s eyes. Yeah, he’d let them go. He might not survive long without his heart, but he couldn’t allow them to be put in danger any longer.

  “Daddy, Lena won’t ’ake up.” Carter ran to Marshall, tears streaming tracks down his dirty face.

  Marshall rejoiced at his own son not being injured. How had he made it down the steep slope without seriously hurting something? Marshall refocused on Lena. How had she had enough time to react to protect Carter in their fall?

  Marshall scooped Carter up and held him tight against his chest. “You okay, buddy?”

  “Yeah. Me okay.” Carter’s voice hitched on a sob. “But Eena hurt.”

  Carter pushed away from Marshall’s embrace and turned in his arms. If Carter’s constant concern for others continued through adulthood, his son would do so much good. If Marshall could keep him alive long enough to grow up.

  He blinked away the moisture from his eyes and dashed the rest of the way to Lena’s side. Her arm bent awkwardly under her body, and blood oozed from a gash above her eyebrow. Her back arched over the backpack strapped to her, making her twist in an eerie form of yoga.

  Marshall swallowed the bile that filled his mouth and kneeled next to her. How could he touch her without making her injuries worse? Setting Carter next to him, Marshall pressed his fingers to Lena’s throat. Nothing. Black spots swam in front of him. No, no, no! He adjusted his fingers and pressed harder. She couldn’t be dead. Her strong pulse bumped against his fingers, and all the tension whooshed out of him.

  Laying his forehead on her chest, he took a deep breath to calm himself. The steady rise and fall of her breathing calmed him even more. He took another deep breath, sat up, and wiped his eyes across his sleeve.

  “Is Eena okay?” Carter pulled on Marshall’s arm.

  “I don’t know, buddy.” He gave him a quick hug. “I think she’s just taking a little nap.”

  Carter nodded and glanced from Lena to Marshall. “Okay.”

  “In fact, why don’t you lie down right here and rest while I clean Lena up?” Marshall took off his flannel shirt and stretched it out on the ground a few feet from Lena’s head. “You can watch and let me know if I miss any blood.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Carter scrambled over Marshall’s lap and curled on his side. Maybe he’d fall asleep, and Marshall wouldn’t have to keep the brave face on.

  Who was he kidding? Carter had just taken a nap. There was no way the kid would fall back to sleep.

  Panic had Marshall’s eyebrows permanently attached to his hairline.

  He needed to wake Lena up so she could tell him what to do. He had never been one to let others boss him around, but Lena was different. She ordered him about in a way that strengthened him. Everything about her made him better: a better dad, a more focused businessman, better at connecting with others. She even made him more critical of his analysis of situations.

  Tearing the bottom of his T-shirt free, he wet it and dabbed at the cut on her head. “Lena, honey, wake up.” He cringed as blood ran from the cut a little faster. “Lena, please, we need you to wake up.”

  “Daddy?” Carter’s voice still held hiccupped sobs.

  “It’s okay, buddy.”

  Marshall rewet the fabric and turned it to a cleaner section. As he continued to wipe the grime from her face, his desperation rose. What would happen if she never opened her eyes? Couldn’t people look perfectly fine but have such a severe head injury that they never recovered from it?

  His hands shook as he pressed the swatch of T-shirt to her cut. Carefully, he probed her skull with his fingertips, looking for any other bumps or gashes that could explain her unresponsiveness. When his fingers didn’t press into brains or soft spots, he let out a fortifying huff and glanced at Carter. His hands were folded under his face, and his eyes were wide with fear. His breath hitched like it did when he cried, and his body was coming down from the emotion.

  “Lena.” Marshall turned back to her and tapped her cheek with his palm. “Lena, wake up.” Frustration built in his chest, binding his lungs and threatening to suffocate him. “Lena Rebel, stop playing around and get your sorry side up.” He used the best impersonation of his drill sergeant during boot camp.

  Lena moaned, her eyelashes fluttering on her cheeks. She wouldn’t respond to soft touches, but yelling at her got her moving? He had
so much fear and worry building up in him, he could give her a verbal thrashing if it woke her up.

  “Rebel, what do you think this is, nap time? Are you a preschooler or something?” Marshall leaned over her, cupping his palms on the sides of her face. “You need to stop being lazy and wake up.”

  “Daddy, stop being mean.” Carter got to his knees.

  “I’m trying to wake her, Carter. It’s okay.”

  She moaned again, and Marshall almost shouted with joy. He took a quick look around to make sure nothing was creeping up on them while he was preoccupied. The emptiness of the Alaskan wilderness both eased his fears and increased them. He never would’ve thought that possible a week before.

  “Rebel, open your eyes.” He leaned right in her face. “Carter needs you. I need you. Open. Your. Eyes.” Each word grew louder as fear tried to wrap its fingers in his scalp and pull him down beside her.

  She gasped, her arm flinging out and face going wide with fear. “Carter?” Even half-dead, her first thought was for someone else.

  “He’s fine.” Marshall caught her flailing hand with one of his own and pointed to where Carter sat. “You kept him safe.”

  Her entire body relaxed as her gaze found Carter, then tensed again with a scream she cut short to a whimper. A chill washed over Marshall at her pain and his lack of knowledge on how to help. His fingers shook as he gave her hand a squeeze. Carter cried and crawled over.

  “Carter, stay on my shirt.” Marshall quickly set his son on the make-shift blanket and turned to Lena. “What’s wrong?” That was a stupid question. “What hurts?” Like that was any better.

  “I don’t know.” Lena’s voice, while calm, had panic laced within her tone. “My arm, I think.”

  “Okay.” Marshall adjusted his position and tried to get a better look at how her arm was trapped. “What if I undo the straps from your pack and try to take it off?”

  Lena swallowed, her expression full of relief at the suggestion. If he could just keep on throwing out good ideas, maybe he could help her after all. He quickly unwound the straps from the bottom of the pack.

  “Okay. If I lift you up with one hand and pull the pack away with the other, will that work?” He didn’t care that he needed her direction for everything at the moment. He didn’t want to hurt her more.

  “Yeah.” Lena’s shaky voice made his knees weak with worry. “Just try to keep my arm from under me when you set me down.”

  Right. Marshall huffed, then threaded his arm under Lena. She trembled beneath him, her breath coming in quick rasps against his skin as she bunched the back of his shirt in her fingers. He clenched the bag in the other hand and, with extreme gentleness, lifted her enough to pull the pack from under her.

  Adjusting his grip on her, he moved her arm from beneath her and set her down. She whimpered against his neck before releasing her grip on his shirt and relaxing into the ground. Marshall brushed hair from her chalky skin with shaky fingers, sick to his stomach that she was in so much pain.

  “What now?” He hated to ask, but worried if he didn’t prod her, he’d lose her again.

  Lena closed her eyes, and her forehead scrunched. Her uninjured shoulder wiggled, then stopped. Then her leg muscle moved against his, where he touched, and her opposite foot rotated. Was she systematically evaluating her injuries? How could anyone push through so much obvious pain like she did? She opened her eyes, and Marshall leaned closer.

  “I think …” She squeezed her eyes shut again and cleared her throat. “I think it’s just my arm. Everything else hurts, but nothing like my arm.”

  “Okay.” Marshall examined how her limb hung by her side. “Is it broken?”

  Lena turned her head with a wince. Moving her other hand across her body, she pressed her fingers into her shoulder. Her sharp intake of breath made his own shoulder hurt. He shook out his muscles as she continued to probe her arm.

  “I think the shoulder is just out of socket.” She relaxed into the ground and took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to put it back in.”

  His stomach flipped in on itself, but he nodded. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen injured people before. He just wasn’t great around them.

  “Grab my forearm.” She motioned with her opposite hand. “We need the arm at a forty-five degree angle. You’re going to pull my arm away from me, slow and steady, okay?”

  “Okay.” That made no sense. Why would he pull the arm away from where it needed to go?

  “You’ll probably need to brace your foot on my side.” Lena swallowed as her opposite hand clenched and released.

  He wanted to slide his palm into hers and let her know it’d be okay. She’d probably punch him in the face and tell him to stop being a pansy. She’d be right. He couldn’t stomach how much this would hurt her. He took a fortifying breath, wrapped both hands around her forearm, and carefully lifted it to the angle she’d said.

  “Ready?” Was he asking himself or her?

  “No.” A weak smile pushed her lips up.

  “Me, neither.”

  She closed her eyes, just to have them pop open again. “Don’t jerk. That could cause more damage.”

  Right. Why couldn’t he be the one hurt, rather than the army medic who’d been assigned to special force troops? He adjusted his hands on her arm and pulled. When she slid toward him, he pushed his foot against her side. Her arm wouldn’t pull any farther, and he worried he was causing more harm than good.

  “It’s not working.” Her voice held so much pain tears stung his nose.

  “Eena, you’s okay?” Carter’s voice held concern from where he bounced nervously on his knees like he wanted to help.

  “I’m fine.” She smiled weakly at him. “Just hurt. Maybe in a little bit you can kiss it and make it better.”

  He nodded, determination firm on his little face. “Me do tat. Me make it better.”

  Marshall blinked and wiped his sleeve across his eyes before rubbing the sweat from his forehead. Maybe she hadn’t noticed him tearing up. Setting her arm gently on the ground, he stood, stretched his arms over his head, and scanned the area for critters wanting to eat them. He wished his son didn’t have to watch this.

  “All right.” Lena spoke with her eyes closed. “We have another option we can try.”

  Marshall shook out his shoulders and bounced like he did before a game of one-on-one with Ed. What would happen if this didn’t work? Would she be able to move or would they be stuck here? Obviously, she could walk, unless she’d hurt something else, but would she be in too much pain to move? Marshall rolled his eyes. She’d push through any pain and probably still do more than he did to get them to safety.

  “I need you to rotate my forearm so that my palm is facing the sky and my arm makes a ninety-degree angle, like this.” She moved her uninjured arm so it looked like an L. “Then, you’re going to rotate it up, keeping it along the ground, until my forearm rests on my head.”

  She showed him what she wanted him to do, her face scrunching in pain and her voice strained. If it hurt to move the side that wasn’t hanging limp, how would she be able to take the pain when he worked the other side? He did one last jump and shake, and squatted next to her, gently moving her palm up.

  “Marshall.”

  He yanked his hands away like she’d shocked him with an electric jolt.

  “Smooth motions here.” Her jaw clenched, then relaxed. “This is going to produce a lot of torque, so if you jerk or force, you’ll break the bone.”

  His eyes widened as they darted from her shoulder back to her face. She nodded and gave him a look that reminded him of his weight trainer when Marshall was exhausted and didn’t want to finish the set. Rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants, he positioned himself so he could move her arm better.

  “Smooth, Marsh. You can be smooth,” he encouraged himself under his breath.

  Lena’s laugh was short and choppy.

  “What? You don’t think I’m smooth?” Maybe if Marshall talked, they co
uld both relax.

  He rotated her palm to point up, and she cringed.

  “You have your moments.” She bit her lip, and her chin trembled. “They’re few and far between, but you have them.”

  “Hey now, that’s only because I’m out of my element here.” He forced indignation into his voice as he moved her arm higher. “If you wouldn’t have shot daggers at me back home and actually gotten to know me, you’d see just how smooth I can be.”

  A crack snapped from her shoulder. Lena’s agonized scream seemed to rip from her and slice through him like a knife. Her eyes rolled into her lids, and the sudden silence of her passing out filled him with more sickening dread. Oh God, no, please. Marshall slumped to the ground. Had he really just broken her arm and made this horrid trek through the wilds worse?

  Twenty-One

  Carter cried out Lena’s name, but his sweet voice was muffled. Her eyelids weighed a ton, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them open. Carter’s crying turned to screaming. She had to move, to help him.

  Come on, eyes. Open.

  She blinked her eyes, and brightness blinded her. Quickly slamming them shut, she groaned against the pain.

  “Lena?” Marshall’s voice held such concern as his fingers skimmed her cheek.

  She leaned her face toward the touch. She didn’t want him to worry about her. Cracking one eye open, her vision blurred on Carter sitting among a patch of fireweed. Tears streamed down his face as he held his little clenched hands in front of his mouth.

  “I’m okay.” Her throat hurt like she had swallowed a handful of gravel.

  “Eena?” Carter scrambled to her, only to be caught by Marshall.

  “Hey, buddy. We can’t touch her. Not until we know we fixed her arm.” Marshall’s words tumbled the events that caused her to be spread out in the dirt back to her brain.