as she dared over the sharp yet slippery rocks, Olivia carried the still body to shore. She laid Brett flat and began lifesaving maneuvers she’d learned years ago in a Red Cross class. While she worked, she prayed, vaguely aware that Brady was bawling at the top of his lungs. At least he hadn’t moved.
Neither had Brett.
Olivia kept working. Finally the boy responded, spewing a mouthful of water all over her before he gasped for oxygen.
“Thank you, Father,” she whispered, holding him as the last of the water gurgled out and his breathing grew more normal.
“No, thank you.” Reese grabbed his son’s shoulders and helped him sit up. When Brett tried to stand, Reese wrapped him in his arms and held on, eyes squeezed shut. His chest heaved with the exertion of running downhill. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His gray-white face looked like an ice sculpture as he hugged the shivering little body against him.
Olivia stayed silent for a few minutes, but finally she touched the shoulder of the man who’d played best man to her bridesmaid in his sister’s wedding. His eyes flew open and he stared at her as if awakening from a nightmare.
“Come on, we need to get away from here.”
“Yeah. I know.” His voice grated, frosted with fear.
Olivia understood that horrible choking awareness that a child you’d protected and adored since birth, a child you would sacrifice your very life for, had almost been snatched away.
Only in her case, there was no almost.
“I’m cold, Daddy,” Brett stuttered, his teeth chattering.
“The water comes from snow on the mountains.” The leashed tension in Reese’s voice chastened the young miscreant into silence as he carried the boy to safety.
Olivia followed them, picking her way back along the water’s edge. Her feet screamed a protest, but she ignored it, smiling when Brady blubbered with joy at the sight of his bedraggled twin.
“He’s fine, Brady.” She led them to a massive boulder that felt deliciously warm to the touch. “Reese?”
“Yeah?” He looked at her, his blue eyes dark as storm clouds.
“He can sit down here.” She touched the rock, but Reese didn’t move. His arms remained locked around his child. “Brett’s cold, Reese. We have to warm him up.”
The frantic father studied her for a moment before he looked down at the boy he held. He seemed unable to let go.
“Brett is all right, Reese. But he’s cold and wet and we need to fix that.” She didn’t want to frighten Brett, but his shivering bothered her. She stood on tiptoe and whispered in Reese’s ear. “You’re scaring him. Put him down, okay?”
He looked at her as if she’d asked him to move mountains.
“Put him down, Reese. I only want to help.”
He finally nodded, loosening his grip by degrees until at last Brett had been lowered to the big rock she’d indicated. But Reese remained close by, obviously not quite trusting her with his precious child.
Olivia’s heart ached to comfort him some other way, but she was only his wedding partner. So she smiled, then began removing Brett’s shirt and pants.
“Come on, sweetheart. Slip out of these wet things. We’ll let that big old sun warm you up.” When she fumbled, Reese helped, but his stiff, jerky actions gave away his distress.
After a moment, Reese moved toward Brady. His hand shook as he reached for the boy’s fingers and a strangled breath squeezed out from his throat at the contact.
“Brady’s fine, Reese. Everything is all right now,” Olivia soothed softly, hoping to reassure all of them. As she brushed damp brown curls off Brett’s forehead, she couldn’t resist pressing a kiss against his sweet cheek. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”
“K-kind of.” He stared up at her, his spiky lashes stuck together. “Are you going to take off your dress? It’s wet, t-too?”
“I’m fine.” She suppressed a shiver. “Brady, slip off your jacket, will you? Brett needs it to warm up.”
Once Olivia had Brett buttoned inside the white jacket, she gave way to her own weakness and sank down beside him, smothering a groan at the sweet heat of the stone against her skin. Still Reese hovered, silent and grim, holding Brady close.
“It’s okay,” she repeated softly. “It’s okay.”
Several minutes passed before Reese nodded. He drew an audible breath, then sat Brady next to Brett. He cupped his palm around each miniature chin, forcing his sons to look at him.
“What were you doing, Brett? Uncle Cade told you not to come down here.”
“Y-yes. But I wanted to catch a fish. I almost d-did, too,” he chattered, his chin thrusting out with pride.
Olivia’s heart lurched at the thought of what might have been. Anika had been four when—
“Uncle Cade said we shouldn’t go past those blue flowers.” Brady pointed uphill to blooms that were at least three hundred feet above them. “You said that was the rule, didn’t you, Daddy?”
Olivia struggled to control her shivering. If only she had enough strength to drag herself back up the hill. But the truth was, she felt drained. Death had come too close.
But it had not taken another child…this time.
“Why did you disobey me and your uncle?” Reese demanded in a rasping voice.
“I don’t like rules,” Brett said as if that explained everything.
“Too bad. Everybody has to follow rules, Brett.” There was no give in Reese’s tone. “That’s the way life is. Rules help protect us from bad things.”
“They didn’t pro-teck my mom.” Brady mourned. “I heard Great Granny say my mom followed the rules when she stopped at the sign. But my mom got dead.” His bottom lip trembled as he glared at his father. “Dead means she’s gone, and she isn’t coming back ever again.”
Reese’s mouth worked, but he said nothing. So Olivia took over.
“Do you remember your mother, Brady?”
From her many conversations with Sara, Olivia knew Reese’s wife had died several years earlier. The twins would probably not remember her, but Olivia knew it would be helpful to encourage them to talk about her anyway. Maybe something today had triggered a sense of loss.
“Brady doesn’t remember nothing.”
“Do so. She had brown hair.” Brady glared at his brother. “Like choc-lat.”
“You saw that in a picture. You don’t remember it.” Brett’s voice wobbled. “I think I do sometimes, but—” He shrugged, his little face confused.
Olivia glanced at Reese, expecting him to soothe them. But he was still dealing with his own shock. His stare remained frozen on the children.
“Sweetheart, your mom is tucked inside here.” Olivia tapped Brett’s little chest. “She wouldn’t care if you remembered what she looked like. All she’d care about is that you remember that she loved you very much.”
Brett studied her for a few minutes.
“There’s only Daddy and us in our house. It’s not like the kids at day care. Most of them have daddies and mommies. I wish I had a mommy.”
“Why do you wish that, Brett?” Years of training and thousands of phone calls to a kids’ radio show Olivia had taken from a small New York station to national syndication had taught her that talking was often the best therapy.
“The other kids’ mommies send cookies on special days and push them on the swings and help say prayers at night.”