Her Sister's Child. Cynthia Thomason

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Yeah, imagine.” The lanterns still in her arms, Julia walked toward the rear of the store and glanced out the back door. “Well, come on. If we’re going to make it to the cabin, we’d better go now.”

      Cora checked the lock on the front entrance and started to follow, but the squeal of brakes and the grating of twisting metal stopped her.

      “What was that?” Katie asked, clutching Julia’s arm.

      Julia dropped the lanterns on a nearby worktable. Her heart raced. She recalled only two times in all the years she’d lived on Whisper Mountain when she’d heard that sound. She looked at Cora’s stricken expression. “Oh, God, Mama,” she said. “He’s gone through the guardrail.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      JULIA GRABBED a yellow slicker from the hook by the storeroom, slipped her arms through the sleeves and hurried to the counter under the cash register where her parents had always kept a flashlight. Shoving the light into the waistband of her jeans, she headed for the front door. Cora followed, talking incessantly, her anxiety clear. “I t-told him not to g-go out in this weather. I w-warned him, Julia.”

      “I know, Mama,” Julia said, pulling the vinyl hood and securing the snap at her chin.

      “You c-can’t go after him!”

      “I’ll be all right. I’m just going to cross the road and look down in the ravine. Maybe he’s fine and I’ll see him climbing up toward me.”

      “But, but what if he’s not climbing out? What if you don’t see him?”

      Julia paused, her hand on the doorknob. “We can’t just ignore this and leave him at the bottom of the falls. I need you to stay focused, Mama. Call 9-1-1, tell them what’s happened.”

      Cora nodded and walked toward the phone.

      At the door Julia stopped when she heard Katie sobbing behind her. “Don’t go out there, Aunt Julia. It’s raining and you’ll get all wet.”

      Julia took Katie’s arms and held them tight. “I’ll be fine, Katie. Nothing is going to happen to me. I’ve been down that ravine more times than I can count.”

      Katie sniffed loudly. “In the dark?”

      “Dark, light, all kinds of weather.” She kissed the top of Katie’s head. “I have to do this, honey. People could be hurt down there and we don’t know how long it will take the police to get here. I want you to be a brave girl and wait with Grandma. Will you do that for me?”

      Katie pinched her eyes closed and nodded. “You’ll hurry though, won’t you?”

      “You bet I will.” She gave Katie what she hoped was a reassuring hug and stepped outside. A strong wind propelled raindrops as heavy as pebbles against her face. Fighting a gust, she shouldered the door into its frame, testing the latch to be certain it took hold.

      Julia flicked the switch on the flashlight and aimed it left and right. She had a fleeting, hopeful thought that she might encounter travelers out on this wicked night, someone she could flag down to help her. Instead, all she saw was dense rain in her beam of light. Within seconds, her jeans were plastered to her legs and her tennis shoes were soaked through.

      Julia hugged her arms to her chest and started walking up the mountain road, knowing that was the direction Cameron had taken just minutes ago. She aimed her light at the guardrail, a thin strip of galvanized metal that had originally been erected by FDR’s Works Progress Administration during the Great Depression. Over the years, the rail had been inspected often, mended many times, but never replaced. And, ironically, considering what had just happened, always considered by the locals to be “good enough.”

      She had progressed about a hundred yards when she spotted the breach, a mere ten-foot gap in the otherwise continuous flow of gray posts and barriers. Just ahead of the hole, her flashlight caught the ominous shimmer of an oily substance on the road, probably an engine leak from a vehicle belonging to a negligent local.

      Julia quickened her pace. She reached the edge of the ravine and pointed her flashlight to the bottom. A tight pain squeezed her chest when she realized that the Birches’ car had gone over at the steepest decline. With her meager light, she saw nothing resembling a vehicle but she heard the fury of the waterfall rushing over the rocks, gaining power from the rain and its one hundred-foot drop from the mountain ledge where it tumbled from the Glen River.

      The thundering falls ended some forty feet below in a frothy pool of water that drew tourists from all over before it gained momentum again and flowed to the bottom of Whisper Mountain. Julia knew that, right now, the swollen pool would be roiling, struggling to accommodate the downpour that could cause it to overflow its banks. And somewhere near that angry cauldron lay Cameron’s car, perhaps submerged, perhaps not. There was only one way to find out.

      Julia tucked the flashlight under her arm, aiming it down to light the path ahead of her, and grabbed hold of the nearest tree. And then, as she’d done many times before, but never in conditions like this and never in the dark, despite what she’d told Katie, she began her descent. She lost her footing again and again, the tread of her sneakers no match for slippery patches of mud and leaves as squishy as wet sponges.

      She wished she’d remembered to bring gloves. Tree bark and shale bit into her hands as she reached for anything solid to steady her downward climb. Her heart hammered as the ravine seemed to swallow her up. Strange sounds assailed her—night creatures scurrying to safety, raindrops beating on the underbrush, water rushing everywhere, blending with the frantic buzzing in her own brain. A mixture of rain and sweat ran into her eyes. But she kept going until, perhaps no more than ten minutes after she’d begun her climb down, she reached the bottom and noticed a dim glow near the base of the falls.

      She took the flashlight from under her arm, drew a deep breath to fortify her for what she might see and aimed it at the light. With an overwhelming sense of relief, she realized she was staring at Cameron’s headlamps, half buried in mud and brush, but proof that his vehicle hadn’t plunged into the pool—yet.

      “Professor Birch!” Julia hollered his name as she advanced toward the driver’s window. “I’m coming to help you!” She flicked rainwater from her eyes and struggled to catch her breath. Good grief, Julia, Cameron Birch won’t care if you use his first name. She continued over the soaked ground, her heart pounding harder with each labored step.

      When she reached the Jeep, she relaxed slightly. Somehow Cameron had managed to steer down the embankment without losing complete control and rolling over. She held on to the roof and hit the rain-streaked window. “Cameron, answer me. Are you all right?”

      When she didn’t get a response, she used the sleeve of her slicker to clear a circle in the mud-streaked glass, wiped her eyes and peered inside. Shining her light into the interior, she saw her former professor unconscious, his safety belt fastened, his head slumped over the wheel. She slammed the window hard with the heel of her hand, and then immediately regretted the action. The SUV slid forward toward the rushing water, maybe only a foot or two, but the motion left the headlamps buried deeper in mud.

      Julia yelled louder. “Wake up, Cameron! I’ve got to get you out of there.” She walked around and shone her light in the passenger window. “Mrs. Birch, are you in there?”

      The seat was empty. She aimed the beam at the back and saw where boxes had been stacked for СКАЧАТЬ