Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(93)

As the turkey came out of the oven ready for carving and Walt insisted on making the gravy, Franci went looking for Rosie—it was time to clean up and get her hands washed. She’d seen her just a second ago on the floor with Mattie and Hannah, Vanni’s children, but right now she was nowhere in sight. She checked the bathroom and Shelby’s bedroom, but she wasn’t there. Franci looked up the staircase—would she have gone upstairs?

Franci ran up and peeked into the two bedrooms, but no Rosie. Running back downstairs she wondered if the little imp was hiding. “Sean,” Franci called. “Where’s Rosie?”

Sean looked around. “Bathroom?” he suggested.

Franci shook her head. Then she glanced into the kitchen. There, on the countertop, was a loaf of bread. But the plastic bag was open. No adult in this house would have left it like that; it was too close to dinner to be making sandwiches. She gasped and her heart fell with a thud.

“The river!” she yelled into the living room full of people. “Oh, God, she took bread to the river!”

Sean bolted out the door, Franci on his heels, both of them frantically running for the river. Franci could hear Rosie crying and she picked up speed. The river was close; she saw her little girl standing at its edge, clutching her sliced bread. Sean got to her first. He scooped her up instantly. “Sean!” Franci yelled, pointing at Art, facedown in the water.

There was the sound of running behind them—others had followed the alarm and several people came pounding down the trail.

Sean put Rosie back on her feet at the edge of the water and ran to Art. He was barely there before Luke and Aiden waded up to their knees in the icy water, pulling Art to the bank. They rolled him over and Aiden immediately straddled Art’s waist and began pressing upward on his chest. “Someone call rescue—we’ll need emergency transport,” he said, pressing on Art’s chest. A bubble of river water rolled out. “And blankets. Lots of blankets!”

There was a flurry of activity as Rosie was taken back to the house by Maureen, while others ran to use the phone and to hunt for towels and blankets. Aiden pulled himself off Art’s midsection to kneel beside him and begin mouth-to-mouth.

Franci knelt on Art’s other side. “I can spell you,” she said to Aiden.

“I’m good,” he said, pushing another breath into the big man. “Come on, Art!”

As if performing on command, Art coughed and spewed water into the air. He coughed again; he wheezed and gasped. Aiden and Franci together rolled him onto his side and, after a great deal of coughing and choking, he threw up a lot of river water. While Art struggled to sit up, Luke was shaking out a blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders.

“There we go,” Aiden said. “Take slow breaths if you can, Art. Cough it out.”

Art had a terrified look on his face and a big lump on his head. He had a hard time catching his breath enough to speak and was clearly panicked. Finally, in a voice he could barely use, looking around frantically, he said, “Rosie? Did she fall in?”

“No, buddy. You did. But you’re going to be all right, I think.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy him. “Where’s Rosie? Where is she?”

Luke knelt in front of Art and pulled the blanket around him, holding it tight. “Her grandma took her up to the house where it’s warm.”

“Luke,” he said, his voice raspy. “I stepped too fast and didn’t look.”

“An accident, buddy,” Luke said. “Were you trying to get to Rosie?”

He nodded and coughed. “She’s not supposed to fish without Sean. Did she fall in?”

“She’s okay. You were a close call, though. You scared me good, Art.”

“Sorry, L-L-Luke,” he said, teeth chattering.

The wet blanket was pulled away and a dry one wrapped around him. When he’d recovered enough to be breathing somewhat better, Luke and Sean made a chair out of their arms and carried him to the house so he could sit by the fire.

“I called Cameron,” Walt said. “Once you had him breathing and sitting up, I canceled the helicopter transport. Cameron will be here faster, in less than five minutes. Luke, you can drive the Hummer for him so he can be in the back with Art.” Then the general leaned close to Art. “Art, you’re going to go to the hospital so they can check you over, make sure you didn’t get a concussion or get too much water in your lungs.”

“I don’t want to,” Art wheezed.

“I’ll go with you, buddy,” Luke said. “Right now I’m going next door to your house to find you some dry clothes.”

“O-k-k-kay,” he said. Maureen came close, holding Rosie, who was still gasping with barely subsiding sobs. Art looked up at her. He frowned at her. “No f-f-fishing without Sean,” he said in a bit of a scolding tone.

She turned and buried her head in Maureen’s shoulder for a second, then looked back at Art and asked, “Do I hab time-out?” Her breath caught pitifully and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“No time-out,” Art said. “And no more fishing without Sean!”

She nodded her head and clung to her grandmother.

The front door opened and Cameron stuck his head inside. “Did I hear someone’s been swimming in this cold weather?”

By seven that evening at Valley Hospital, Art had had a clean CT and good chest X-ray. The danger of developing pneumonia from nearly drowning was the risk, so Cameron wanted him to stay at the hospital overnight, on antibiotics for infection and breathing treatments to keep his lungs clear.