The blizzard closed in with a vengeance. The falling snow began to spin, washing over the windshield with a dizzying speed. The twin beams of the headlights glared on the downpour, reflecting back at him until he lost complete sight of the highway.
Thank God for the tracks. Kristin leaned forward, straining against her shoulder harness as if to help him watch for signs of danger. As if they were about to plunge off the road and down a ravine.
Just what I was thinking. Some brave soul was ahead of them. The lone set of tire tracks was rapidly filling with snow, but it was enough to keep him headed in the right direction. His vision blurred and he blinked hard.
Just stay alert, man. He fidgeted in his seat, fighting the belt. He could use the rest of his soda, both the sugar and caffeine would help, but he didnt want to take his hand off the wheel or his attention from the road. There was no way he was going to let anything happen. He had Kristin to keep safe. Mom was waiting for him.
Thank you, Lord, for the help. The tire tracks in the snow unspooled ahead of them like a sign from above guiding them toward home.
Home. If his head wasnt pounding from exhaustion and the effort of concentrating so hard, he could try to get his mind in the right place. He didnt want Mom to see him like this, undecided and unhappy to be walking straight back to his past.
Luckily, driving took all his energy. He didnt have to think about anything other than this moment and keeping the car on the road. It was like driving in a dark tunnel. He glued his attention to the tire tracks barely visible in the sheen of the headlights.
The road beneath them seemed to heave, tossing the SUV around. Fear hit him and he swung the wheel left, but it was too late. A tree bough swiped across the roof. The passenger-side tires dipped low into the pitch of the shoulder.
He saw it all in a flash, the sharp drop, the void of a forest. Already he was picturing what it would be like to crash through those thick limbs and plunge into the darkness, out of control. Flashes of car-accident victims hed treated in the E.R. haunted him and he fought to stop the inevitable as the top-heavy SUV began to tip.
Please, Lord, he prayed as, teeth gritted, he fought the jolting steering wheel. A little help, please. Crashing into old-growth trees was going to be a very bad thing. Time slowed down. He saw the minute detail of the pine needles on the limb swinging toward them. Beside him Kristin gasped, grabbed the dash, expecting the worst, too.
Then, miraculously, the tires dug in. The vehicle swung left toward the level road, and he eased it to a shaking stop. Thank you, Father.
Adrenaline pumping, he tried not to think of everything that could have happened, how hurt they could have been and what those tire tracks meant. That was a close one. Are you okay?
Sheet white, Kristin studied him with wide eyes. She nodded. But whoever is in that car isnt.
He didnt answer. He flicked on the overhead dome light to see as he searched the dash for the hazard lights and hit them on. Check around and see if theres a first-aid kit. Then button up and come with me.
Gone was the hint of the boy hed been. He was all man, mature and focused. Reaching beneath the seat, Kristins fingers tapped over the nubby carpet and bumped into a plastic edge. She got down on all fours to extricate the small box and realized that Ryan was already climbing outside. The brutal subzero winds cut through the warm passenger compartment as he slammed the door shut. The night and storm stole him from her sight.
The box came loose. It was a first-aid kit, as shed hoped it would be. Relieved, Kristin twisted back onto the seat, dug her mittens out of her coat. Her door swung open. Ryan stood just outside the light, shadow and substance as she held up the kit for him to see.
He took it from her. Do you know how close we are to the next town?
Im guessing maybe twelve, thirteen miles. Kristin sank to midcalf in drifting snow. It might be quicker heading back. We went, what, ten miles?
It all added up to potential disaster. He ignored the bitter wind and the sting of flakes needling his face. All that mattered was helping the people in that car.
If he could. If it wasnt too late.
He yanked his cell out of his pocket. Lord, please let this thing work out here. He hit auto dial and prayed for a signal.
There were no other sounds but the rapid-fire beat of his heart, the tap, tap, tap of snow and the howl of the wind through the trees. He shook his phone, not that it would do a lick of good. Cmon. Connect.
He heard the squeak of leather shoes in the compact snow behind him. One glance told him Kristin was managing. He kept in front of her, taking the brunt of the blizzard hiking along the tire tracks as they rolled through a jagged hole in the guardrail and into the darkness.
His phone beeped. He froze in place. He had a signal! There was a ring, and an emergency operator answered. It sounded like a small county station; he could hear the buzz of activity in the background. It was a busy night for the sheriffs department, and about to get busier.
I have a single-car accident on highway 84. He squinted at the milepost marker hanging from a jagged arm of the guard post and reported the number to the operator.
What was he going to find? His guts twisted as he swept the miniflashlight on his key ring through the darkness. Nothing. Only horizontal snow in a black void.
Please, Lord, be with whoever is in that vehicle. Or was. Ryan steeled his spine. Prepared for what he might find, he took a step and skidded down a nearly vertical slope.
Not a good sign, either. He dug his heels in before he crashed into a tree. With pine needles cold against his face, he flashed the small light through the underbrush. Nothing. No, wait. There was a faint something. Squinting, Ryan swept the area again. Sure enough, there it was. The edge of a broken taillight reflecting some of the light back at him despite the heavy downpour and thick foliage.
It was enough of a miracle on this brutal night, that Ryan gave thanks as he crashed through limbs and over dormant blackberry bushes, following the ragged trail of tracks that led to a small sedan. The vehicle was dark and still. A very bad sign.
Help me, Father, he prayed as he snapped limbs and tore branches out of his way, sidling along the quiet car.
Too quiet. That couldnt be good. Between shock, trauma and the freezing cold, he didnt expect to find anyone alive.
Hello? Calm, focused, he broke the icy layer of snow off the drivers window with the side of his hand. The glow of his flashlight showed a lone driver with a mass of dark curls slumped behind the wheel.
He tried the door and the handle gave. The passenger compartment was cool, but not yet cold. He began talking, calm and steady, in case the young woman could hear him. So she wouldnt be afraid.
He wasnt aware of Kristin crowding close to see if she could help or the snow slicing between his neck and his coat collar or the wind as he worked.
Wow, hes sure something. Kristins heart hitched as she watched him work, methodical and skilled. He pressed two fingers to the womans jugular and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. She was alive.
Kristin leaned against the car. Shed never felt so helpless in her life. If a rental car had been available, then she may well have been here alone to help the injured driver. What good could she have done? Ryan was a blessing. He checked the young womans pupils while talking to her, low and soothing.
Kristin leaned against the car. Shed never felt so helpless in her life. If a rental car had been available, then she may well have been here alone to help the injured driver. What good could she have done? Ryan was a blessing. He checked the young womans pupils while talking to her, low and soothing.
I bet hes a great doctor. Admiration for him filled her up. She loved medical dramas on television, but this was something greater. This was real. Somber lines dug deep in Ryans face as he turned to her in the faint glow from his flashlight. How badly was the woman hurt?
What can I do to help?
Go through the trunk. Ill pull the latch. See if theres anything to wrap her in. Blankets. Sheets. Something. Weve got to get her warm.
At least she was alive. That was something. Praying, Kristin scrambled to the back of the car, lifting the trunk after it popped up. How could he be calm and steady? Okay, he was a doctor, he was used to this, but she wasnt. Fear jittered through her veins, leaving her quaking and her fingers clumsy as she began to push through the crowded trunk. Full laundry bags, textbooks, a laptop case She spied a flashlight and tested it; it worked. She tucked that under her arm.
As she kept digging, Ryans voice pulled at her like a fish on a line. She was hooked and unable to turn away. Had she ever heard a man sound like that? A deep gravelly baritone that was both hard-edged man and infinitely caring. Powerful and dependable. A man who could make anything right.
Please, Father, help guide his hands tonight. Kristin moved aside a University of Idaho book bag, realizing the young driver was a college student, probably heading home for Thanksgiving, too. Would she be all right?
She wasnt moving. She was unconscious. At least Ryan was here. He knew what to do. Clutching the stadium blanket shed found beneath the book bag, Kristin carefully picked her way through the knee-deep snow.
Ryan must have heard her coming. Crouched in the open door, he twisted toward her. Worry lines furrowed deep in his forehead, but he managed a strained nod as his gaze pinned on the folded blanket. Good. That will do just fine.
How is she?
Shes trying to stay awake for me. Solemn, he took the blanket in exchange for his cell phone. Ive got dispatch to make this a priority.
Kristin didnt need to ask. She could see the truth in his eyes. The young college girl could be seriously injured. What do you need me to do?
The car is stable. Im not worried about it rolling any farther down the ravine. The trees here are pretty sturdy. How do you feel about climbing in the back seat?
Sure. Kristin slipped the cell into her coat pocket, struggling with the stubborn door. Ice cracked around the handle and she slipped into the rapidly cooling interior of the compact sedan.
The beam of the flashlight danced eerily around the silent passenger compartment, as Ryan wedged it into place on the dashboard. The golden stream illuminated a beaded cross hanging from the rearview mirror, a small stuffed puppy tucked into the middle console next to an insulated coffee cup with the name Samantha and the Greek symbols of a sorority printed on it. And then she saw the college girls thick and beautiful brown wavy hair matted with blood.
Kristin shivered all the way to her bone marrow. The only time shed seen anyone seriously hurt was after the private plane went down, when Allison had died. Her sister Kirby had also been in the plane, but had survived.
Kristin had been a freshman in high school, and with all the time that had passed since, it felt so long ago. But the images returned as crisp and clear as if theyd happened an hour ago. The fear for her critically injured sister, the beep of machines, the frightening reality of death as they all waited for Kirby to regain consciousness, terrified that shed slip away into an irreversible coma and death.
Kirby had survived.
Please, Lord, help this young woman. She was too young to die.
I need your help, Ryan said, fracturing her thoughts, working quickly as he dug through the first-aid kit with one free hand. Hold her head and neck steady from behind while I try to stop this bleeding.
Steady, huh? Thats the last thing she was. Kristin stared at her quivering hands. She took a deep breath. Willed the fear to stop.
Like this. He guided her hands. Cradle her as still as you can. She could have a neck injury, and this will minimize any further damage while I work. All right?
Kristin knew he meant how important this was. The difference between paralysis and movement, between life and death. Her hands had to be rock steady. She made sure of it.
Ryan was unbreakable steel. Checking vitals, applying pressure and bandages, assessing for further injuries. As he worked, he talked low and reassuring.
Can you hear me, Samantha? Im a doctor, if you can believe that. And thats Kristin, in the seat behind you. Say hi, Kristin.
Hi, Samantha.
The injured woman murmured, but nothing more. Kristin felt the slightest of movements beneath her fingertips, the drum of a very slow pulse and the flex of muscles, as if the girl was trying to awaken.
Hold her steady. Ryans grave gaze said everything.
Samantha was seriously injured. Without mercy, the storm raged, the snow pounding like rain. Could help even make it through the blizzard in time? There was so little Ryan could do here, with few supplies. She didnt dare say the words aloud. Shed never felt so helpless.
But Ryan looked confident. In charge. He was amazing. Hope seeped into Kristins heart as she watched his skilled hands working to stanch the flow of blood from several gashes along the girls hairline. Blood seemed to be everywhere, but he worked on, composed and sure. She saw on his face the dedication she expected a doctor to have. The seriousness.
And something more rare. Compassion.
When he was done, he seemed to give a sigh of relief. He checked his patients pulse using his wristwatch, frowned and asked for his cell. Shivering and seeming to be unaware of it, he made another call to the county dispatch.
Theyre almost here. Ryan handed her the flashlight. Or so the operator says. Its hard going for them, and with this poor visibility, they could drive right past the Jeep and miss us. Would you mind going up to flag them down?
Sure.
His fingers moved into place between hers, supporting Samanthas head and neck with extreme care. She read the fear he held for the young college woman in his shadowed eyes. She remembered when her sister Kirby had been in intensive care. She knew exactly what hung in the balance. A life. She knew all that meant, truly meant, unlike so many people who went around living lives they took for granted.
All it took was a split second for everything to change. For life to never be the same again. Would Samantha live? Would she be in a wheelchair or on crutches for the years to come?
Holding on to hope for the best outcome, Kristin scrambled up the slope, fighting the wind and snow driving at her back and the brambles grabbing at her feet. The shadows she saw in Ryans eyes stayed with her as she fought to the top. Shadows of grief that broke her heart as she burst onto the lonely expanse of country road, where no other soul stirred on this cruel night. And so she waited, shivering and alone, for help that felt as if it would never come.
The rumble of the fire trucks engines, muffled by the snow, faded into the distance. Although the taillights had long faded, Kristin watched. She couldnt get the injured college student out of her mind.