A Pebble in the Water by Lisa Gray

Author:Lisa Gray
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2015-05-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

“Come on, son, we’ve got to get you up to the house. Do you think you can walk if you lean on me?”

Stephen lay still, his eyes closed, content to listen to the beautiful, caring voice. Moving seemed like so much trouble. Much nicer to just lie here for a while.

The voice hardened. “Or I could dump your ass in the wheelbarrow and roll you up the hill. Because one way or another, you’re going inside where I can take care of you. So what’s it gonna be?”

Despite the breezy cloud of euphoria he was floating on, Stephen finally caught on that his rescuer sounded tired and shaky. He forced his eyes open and peered at the man hovering over him in the failing light. Deep wrinkles surrounding light green eyes, thick silver hair above the face of an old man. How had someone that age (seventies, maybe even eighties?) mustered the strength to haul a drowning man out of a swollen river? Incredible. And instead of assisting in his own rescue, Stephen was lying there like a lump. How was that for gratitude?

Stephen tried to clear his raw throat and croaked, “If you help me up, I think I can walk.” He flexed his arms. Still weak, but at least they seemed to belong to him again. Clasping the hands of his rescuer, Stephen felt the long fingers grip tightly onto his. “Thank you. I was sure I was dead.”

The man smiled as he pulled Stephen into a sitting position. “I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not today. Ready?”

Stephen nodded, and the man hauled him up. Stephen’s knees nearly buckled. Only the whipcord strength of the older man kept him upright. “Wow. Sorry. Give me a minute, okay?” Leaning heavily, Stephen took a few more deep breaths and concentrated on getting his balance. He nodded at his rescuer. “I think I’m good. Let’s go.”

Part walking, part crawling, part being dragged up the hill, Stephen gratefully arrived at the door of a small white house. As they entered, the blast of heat from a wood stove was almost painful on his ice-cold skin. But so lovely. He shuddered in delight.

His rescuer led him to a leather easy chair by the stove, and Stephen collapsed into it. He sat unmoving, eyes closed, just soaking in the heat, and listening to the crackle of the burning wood. He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, a steaming cup of tea, smelling strongly of whiskey, had appeared on the table at his side.

His rescuer was kneeling in front of him, a first aid kit in his hands. “Are you back with me? I need to examine your wounds. And then I want to get you washed down before I dress them. Flood water is pretty nasty stuff.”

Stephen nodded and reached for the tea. He drained the cup, savoring the soothing heat on his sore throat. Placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, he said, “And you waded into that nasty water, risking your life to save mine.

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