Everything You Are(99)

“I think he must have fallen into a snowdrift, I wait for him to sit up. But there’s nothing.”

There’s sweat on Braden’s forehead. He pauses, breathing hard. Phee wants to wipe it away, to touch him, reassure him. She scoots over beside the pullout couch, her hand hovers. Len warns her off with a vigorous shake of his head.

“What are you doing, Braden? Talk to me.”

“I’m looking for Mitch. Can’t find him anywhere. Oh God. No.”

“What is it?”

“I’m on the lake. The ice keeps giving beneath my feet. There’s water on the surface, it’s soaking my shoes. Mitch was standing here. He must have fallen through.”

He gasps. “Cold. Oh my God, that’s cold. In up to my knees. Can’t feel my feet.”

Braden begins to shiver, his breathing rasping in his throat.

Dynamite, Len said. Unpredictable. But Phee didn’t think it would be like this. It’s not like she was expecting performance art, or a parlor trick of “Oh, now I remember, my hands are cured, let me play a song for you.” But she wasn’t prepared for this. She feels sick with fear. Allie stops playing. Jo goes to her, and Allie buries her face in her chest. Steph and Katie hold hands, their faces stricken.

“What’s happening, Braden?” Len’s face and voice are still calm, placid, even.

“I’m trying to find him. There’s a hole in the ice. I’m feeling around, but there’s just water and ice. My hands are numb, it’s so cold, can’t see, it’s so dark and the snow won’t stop.

“I feel something. Maybe a sleeve. Can’t get a grip on it. Keeps slipping away. Got his hand, but he’s too heavy. I can’t get him out. My hands keep slipping. ‘Mitch! Goddamn it, help me out.’

“He’s not moving. Oh God.”

“What’s happening, Braden?” Len’s voice again, so calm. An anchor for all of them.

“Fell in. Cut my face on something. Whole body getting numb. I’ve got to get him out now. Last chance.” Braden’s voice has begun to slur, his breath coming in gasps as though he’s been running. Another moment of silence, and then: “Off the lake. So tired. Must keep moving. God, he’s so heavy. He won’t wake up. Is he breathing? Can’t tell. Can’t feel a pulse.

“Gotta get him warm somehow. Dragging him. Up the steps. Legs won’t work now. Too hard to get up. On my ass, one step at a time. Dragging him. Top of the stairs, across the deck. The door. Can’t turn the knob. Can’t break down the door. Can’t stop here, so close.”

“What’s happening, Braden?”

“So tired. Got the door. We’re in the cabin. He’s not breathing. Nobody’s face should be this color. He’s dead, I let him die.”

Phee’s throat, her chest, burn with his anguish, tears blurring her vision. Again, she wants to go to Braden; again, Len warns her off.

“Braden, listen to me now. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“It was an accident. You tried to save Mitch, but he was not able to be saved. Do you know why that is?”

“His heart.”

“Yes. He had a massive heart attack. There was nothing you could have done. What happened was not your fault. Repeat these words, now. It was not my fault.”

“Not my fault,” Braden says.

“Your body is warming from the inside. Do you feel it?”

A moment, then a nod.

“The warmth is traveling outward, through your muscles, into your skin. Sensation is returning.”

Braden’s breathing slows, his shivering subsides.

“You can feel your toes, your feet, your legs. No pain, just a sensation of pleasant warmth, all through your extremities. You can move your fingers, they are flexible. There is no pain. Sensation returns, little by little, softly. Your hands, your fingers, are waking from a long sleep, refreshed. Ready to work for you.”

Braden opens and closes both hands. Moves each finger in turn.

“And now, I’m going to bring you back,” Len’s smooth voice says. “I will count backward from three, and when I get to one, you will wake up. You will feel warm and comfortable. You will remember that an accident happened and that you made a heroic effort to save a man who had wronged you. And you will have full sensation restored to your hands and your fingers. I’m going to count now. Three, beginning to come back to this room and the people who love you. Two, whole in mind, body, and spirit. One, with your full memory restored.”

His voice falls silent. Braden’s eyes flicker open, glazed at first, then sharpening into intelligent awareness.

Allie runs to him and throws her arms around his neck. Moving slowly, as if he’s a little dazed, Braden strokes her hair and pats her back.

“I’m okay,” he says.

“Heart attack. I told you.” Jo’s face is wet with tears. “He did it to himself.”

“I hit him,” Braden argues.

“He provoked you. You can share the blame if you want, but you can’t have all of it. Stupid menfolk, fighting over a woman.” Jo laughs a little, scrubbing the tears from her face.

“What happened then?” Allie asks, sitting cross-legged beside him. Her eyes are dark and intent on his. “Between you and Mom. If you chose our family, and Uncle Mitch was dead, why did you leave us?”