A Very...Pregnant New Year's. Doreen Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ screaming, while a woman with auburn hair tried to comfort her. Recognizing Beth Petrocelli, Carol felt a moment’s relief that her husband would be somewhere around as well. Tony Petrocelli was a good doctor, and it looked as if some of those people would need his help.

      She thought about the girls and Paul, lying injured out there somewhere, helpless and alone. The agonized groan she heard was her own.

      Dan’s hands tightened on her shoulders and he gave her a little shake. “Snap out of it, Carol. I have to go outside and help dig out the people buried under the debris. I need you to stay with Dad. He’s insisting on helping and I don’t want him out there. Get it together, Carol. I need you.”

      Her mind cleared, and she stared at him, her feeling of dread threatening to overwhelm her. “We have to find them, Dan,” she whispered.

      His blue eyes stared back at her, and she found strength in the resolution she saw in them. “Doc Petrocelli is organizing a search party. As soon as it’s light I’ll go with them, and I won’t come back without the kids. Will you be okay here now?”

      She nodded and managed a stiff smile. “Just be careful out there. That snow is treacherous.”

      “Try not to worry. Just help out here where you can.”

      It was easier to be busy, she realized, as she herded Grandpa into the dining room where several people sat propped against the wall. The opposite wall had caved in with the weight of the snow, but the roof was still intact. Obviously the worst of the avalanche had missed the lodge.

      Obeying Beth Petrocelli’s instructions, she helped clean grazes and cuts and apply bandages. Grandpa, having accepted the fact that he would be more hindrance than help, was doing his best to cheer up the wounded with his ancient jokes.

      According to the comments Carol overheard, half the lodge was buried beneath the weight of the snow, and the avalanche had completely cut off the road to town. Dr. Petrocelli would have his hands full until help arrived.

      When Paul suddenly popped up in front of Carol, she let out a shriek of joy. When she saw Sharon and Elise behind him, she burst into tears. Swept up in her relief, it was a moment or two before she realized that her eldest daughter was not with them.

      Struggling to keep the panic at bay, she clung to Paul’s arm. “Anne,” she said urgently. “Where is she?”

      She knew at once by the agony on Paul’s face that she didn’t want to hear what he had to tell her.

      “She was right on the edge of it, Mom,” he said, his voice shaky. “I’m sure she’ll be okay. Dad and I will be joining the search party as soon as it’s light. We’ll find her. I know we will.”

      Her fingers tightened as she heard her daughters begin to cry. She had to be strong. For their sakes, she had to be strong. Paul was right. He and Dan would find her baby. They just had to find her.

      Hold on, my precious daughter, she urged silently. Just please, hold on.

      It was cold. So incredibly cold, and something wet and heavy pressed down on her head. The wall supporting her back felt like a jagged block of ice. Her right leg was jammed up against something hard that barely shifted when she tried to move it.

      Darkness enveloped her like a thick black blanket. She couldn’t see anything at all. For a moment she panicked, wondering if she was blind. She shook her head, trying to clear her fogged mind. Pain sliced across her eyes and she moaned.

      Her wool hat, headlamp and goggles were gone, and whatever was sitting on top of her head slid down with a plop onto her lap. Some of it seeped into her collar, freezing her neck.

      Snow. Now she remembered.

      Cautiously she tilted her head back. Above her she could see a patch of light gray. Nothing else. But at least she could see. Feeling a little better, she moved her hand and felt the cold, hard ground beneath her. She stretched her arm to explore a little farther, and her nerves received a nasty jolt when her fingers encountered thin air. Patting the ground on either side of her, she faced the truth. She was on a ledge. A very narrow ledge.

      The pungent smell of pine told her that the thing pressing against her right leg was a broken tree. She clung to it for a moment, aware that it had probably saved her life. So far, anyway.

      Her spirits plummeted as the reality of her predicament dawned on her. She had fallen into a ravine. By a miracle she’d landed on a ledge. She was alive, and except for a bad headache and an excruciating pain in her right ankle, she apparently had no serious injuries. That was the good news.

      The bad news was that it would be next to impossible to climb out of there. Even if she could find a slight foothold in the sheer face of the wall behind her, her experimental wiggling of her right foot told her she’d either broken or sprained her ankle. The ledge was so narrow she was frightened to move. One slip and she could plummet anywhere from a few yards to several hundred feet, depending on the depth of the ravine. That was something she wouldn’t know until it was light enough to see. If she lived that long in this bitter cold.

      For several minutes depression and panic overwhelmed her. She began yelling with all the breath she could muster, even though she had little hope of anyone hearing her. She yelled until she was exhausted, and finally her breath died on a sob. It was no good. She was going to die there, alone on the mountain.

      She started thinking about her family, and how they must be feeling. She struggled to remember those last terrifying moments, and felt sure that Paul and her sisters had jumped clear of the avalanche’s fury. She wondered if the snow had covered the lodge, and if everyone there was all right. What if they’d all been buried? Her grandfather, her parents…what would Elise and Sharon do without them? Paul could take care of himself, but her sisters would be devastated.

      A cold, wet tear slid slowly down her cheek, and she dashed it away with the back of her hand. She had to pull herself together. If she was going to die, she refused to go whimpering like a baby, she thought fiercely. She shifted her position, trying to get more comfortable, and realized one of her skis was still attached to her injured foot. The other must have come off in her wild tumble through the snow.

      She couldn’t reach her foot to take off the ski, and she couldn’t pull her foot toward her because the ski was jammed behind the tree. She slumped back against the wall, fighting against the return of panic. In her entire life, she’d never felt so alone.

      She thought about her grandfather, and tried to guess what he would tell her now. All her life she’d gone to him for advice, from the time when she was six and her parents wouldn’t let her have a puppy until four years ago when she’d wrestled with her decision to live in Denver. Somehow Grandpa James was easier to talk to than her parents, much as she loved them. Grandpa had a way of really listening to her, and never judged her—never laughed at her silly notions the way her father sometimes did.

      She closed her eyes and imagined he was there with her, sitting by her side, listening to her woes. After a while she heard his gravelly voice, as clearly as if he’d spoken to her. Sing, he told her. Singing lifts the spirits. Make as much noise as you can. Sing your heart out, Anne. Sing!

      She sang. Every song she could think of. And when she didn’t know the words she made them up. She was in the middle of a rousing chorus of “God Bless America” when a faint sound penetrated her high-pitched screeching.

      She snapped her mouth shut and held her breath. If there was a timber wolf out СКАЧАТЬ