In the split second before her toe snagged on the rock and she went flying, Annie’s stomach dropped and her mind screamed, Not again! Her body had a premonition of the impending calamity except for her hapless foot, which moved forward of its own will. The moment froze in time, and then shattered in a million pieces, each crying Noooo as she flew through the air.
Her instinct was to protect that vulnerable, damaged left leg, and she fell heavily on her right hip. The sharp points of a rock bed ground into the muscle of her glute and into her bicep and shoulder as she angled her body away from her knees and tucked her head. Then all motion stopped. Her breath rasped loud and hot against her sternum.
She lay half on the dirt shoulder of the road, half in the shallow ditch where she’d tripped, coming off the hill. She was afraid to move. These precious moments of shock hid whatever damage she’d done in that five-second tumble. But she had to get out of the road. She’d emerged from the trail along a blind curve, and oncoming cars wouldn’t see her; there wouldn’t be time to get out of the way.
As she raised her torso, the pain cascaded in a wave of nausea. She stopped, drew in a deep breath, and rolled onto her behind. Her palm stung as dozens of tiny stones spilled from her torn skin. But she could stretch and bend her left leg. She brushed her palm against her thigh, wincing as she dislodged more pebbles, and leaned onto her hand to push herself up to sitting.
The right side of her running tights was shredded from her waist to her calf. White skin shone through, but it was streaked with black. Her arm and shoulder hurt too much to move; a slight tilt of her head was enough to see that her jacket was torn.
“Okay, kiddo. Breathe. It’s all right. Just breathe.” The realization that she hadn’t hit her head on the sharp edge of a rock or against the tarmac brought tears of relief, and she began to shake. Suddenly, she was very cold.
“This isn’t good. Stay calm.” Her hat lay in the middle of the road, but her headlamp was nowhere to be seen. She’d been going at a slow clip—maybe eight-minute miles—but she couldn’t be more than a fifteen-minute walk from the village. If she could manage to walk, that is.
She needed to get out of this road. Rolling onto her left side, she scooted until she lay with her legs below her in the ditch, her back cushioned by the water pack still strapped across her chest. She maneuvered the tube into her mouth, and the deep swallows of water soothed her shaking insides.
A yip and scrabbling of feet. Annie barely had time to absorb the sound coming toward her from the trail when a low, blocky shadow burst out of the dark, off a small rise, and a warm body was suddenly at her side, whining, a rough tongue licking her ear.
“Bannon. Hey, girl. I’m so glad to see you.” With her left hand, Annie rubbed the heeler under her jaw and scratched the knob of bone between her small ears, breathing in the moist breath that smelled like grass and toast. She wanted to draw the warm bulk into her, curl the cold ache of her body into that sweet dog and just rest. She was so tired.
Daniel. If there was Bannon, could he be far behind? “Daniel?” she ventured.
Bannon went rigid, her ears shot up, and her tail made a few tentative wags. Then, with a bark, she shot off, back along the trail the way she’d come. Within moments, the dog stood at her feet again, Daniel quickly closing the gap between them. Annie went limp with relief. The tears came unbidden.
“Ah, Jesus, Annie.” He knelt beside her. “No, don’t move.” He touched her face and her head with the pads of his fingers.
“I didn’t hit my head. I can feel everything. Trust me. My right side is one big world of pain.”
Daniel shrugged off his backpack and unzipped a pocket in the front. He pulled out a small square and snapped it open. A plastic shock blanket unfurled like a silver sail and settled over Annie’s body. He moved to her right side, lifted the blanket away, and sucked in air.
“It is bad?”
“It’s hard to see in this light. How long have you been here?” He took her wrist and pressed two fingers into her skin, searching for her pulse.
“Five minutes?” Annie realized she didn’t know, hadn’t looked at her watch, had lost all sense of passing time. She knew only how fortunate she was now. And that it was Daniel who found her. How closely could she look at this coincidence without feeling as if she were losing her mind? “Ten maybe? I was able to move myself into this ditch.”
“Are you cold?”
“No.” She shivered involuntarily. “Okay. Yes.”
He folded her hand between his warm palms. “Your pulse is strong. Do you feel lightheaded?”
“A bit stunned, but I’m okay. I’d like to try and move.”
“Nope. I’m calling 999.”
“If that’s an ambulance, don’t. Daniel, please. I’m fine.” He’d already pulled a phone from his pack. Annie heaved herself to her elbows, pushed against her palms, and scooted back on her bottom until she sat upright. She brushed off her palms, gritting her teeth against the pain.
“See? Good as gold.”
Daniel lifted the blanket and moved his hand gently down her leg. She winced and huffed a quick breath as he neared her knee, but the anticipation of pain was worse than the reality. He ran tentative fingers over her kneecap, gently probing.
“You took a hell of a tumble, but your knee seems to be okay. If your leg were broken, you’d be babbling in pain by now.” He sat back on his heels and flipped on a small flashlight she hadn’t noticed. He lifted the blanket again and peered at her leg.
“Looks like you landed here?” He shifted up to her hip. She could feel stone under her right buttock and cold air against her bare skin. “And here?” He touched her upper arm and shoulder, where fabric had peeled away in a long panel.
“I’d like to stand up.”
Daniel crouched behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist. “Is that okay? No pain?”
“You’re good. Just don’t let that right hand go any lower. I’m not sure I have any skin left.”
“Lean into me. Let me take all of your weight.”
Annie pushed up on her left leg, and as she felt her balance sway, she tried to relax into the wall of Daniel’s body behind her. Her right leg straightened and her foot touched the earth without a jolt, but her upper body throbbed, and she became aware of the tender ache in her ribs. She’d be a mass of contusions, road burn, and pain tomorrow.
Daniel still held her by the waist, and she pushed his hands away, her humiliation nearly equal to her pain. She took a first tentative step and grabbed his wrist as an arrow of pain pierced the flesh of her thigh and glute.
“Son of a bitch.” She sucked air through her teeth.
“We’re five minutes from the village. I’ll run in, get Mack’s car from the pub, and we’ll take you to Liz Farley’s surgery. You’ll stay here with Bannon. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, tops.”
“No. I can make it. I just need get the blood flowing. Do you have a walking stick?”
He helped her ease into a rain slicker that hung almost to her knees. She felt like a child. The torn running tights stayed where they were—the blood was drying, and Annie cringed at the thought of tearing them away from her raw skin. Daniel wrapped the shock blanket around her waist and tied it at her hip, the plastic skirt crinkling in the wind. He extended a collapsible walking stick and slipped the strap over Annie’s right hand; then he hitched his pack over his shoulders and took Annie’s left hand in his right.
“We’ll take it slow. It’s less than a kilometer downhill.”
Annie’s body and mind felt divided in two. On the right side, pulsating pain and the sense that with each step, her skin tore and her muscles separated. On her left, the solidity of someone else’s strength, gripping her and moving her forward. Fear and peace, vulnerability and trust.
They limped together in silence, and within minutes the lights of Ballycaróg appeared. He brought her to the inner foyer of the hotel and set her gently on a cushioned bench, leaving Bannon to sit beside her while he walked through the lobby and disappeared down a hallway. The dog rested her snout on Annie’s knee while Annie stroked her soft, square head. Moments later the door to the lobby slid open, and a tall, thin woman entered, holding a mug, steam rising from inside.
“I’ve called for Doc Farley, but she’s on an emergency obstetrics call in Adrigole.” The woman knelt beside Annie, her black hair hanging in two long braids over her shoulder. “I’m Kate Ahern. My husband and I run this place. Here.” She handed the ceramic mug to Annie.
“Thank you,” she murmured and brought the warm drink to her mouth. At the first sip she choked and spat it back into the mug. The hot flush of embarrassment made her forget for an instant the pain in her body.
“I’m sorry,” she said, seeing Kate’s shocked face. “I don’t drink alcohol. I can’t.” Every nerve and fiber pinged and pulsed with alarm and desire. She sucked the sweet burn of whiskey-laced tea from her lips. She thrust the cup back into Kate’s hands while her head screamed, Keep it! Drink it!
“Oh, Annie, I’m so sorry. I should have told you there was a dram of whiskey in it. Stay here. I’ll get some straight tea. Honey okay?”
“It’s okay. I mean, I’m fine. I just want to go home.” Her flushed face quivered, and to her deeper shame, she began to cry.
“Daniel went round back to get our car. He’ll have you home in no time. You’re staying at the Moyle cottage?”
Headlights shone into the foyer. Annie nodded, wiped her face with the back of her hand, and pushed herself upright, leaning heavily on the walking stick. Now, instead of feeling like a child, she felt a hundred years old. Kate and Daniel helped her into the front seat. They exchanged words on the driver’s side, Kate shaking her head and Daniel placing a reassuring hand on her arm. She turned her face away as Daniel opened his car door.
“I’m taking you to my sister’s,” he said, starting the engine. “Yes, I am,” he added as Annie began to protest. She gave him a hard stare, which he did not meet.
“Please thank Kate for me. For the tea and the ride.”
“Not to worry, Annie. We look out for each other here.”
Annie was grateful for Daniel’s silence as they drove the few miles toward the cove and into the hills beyond. Fiana waited at the patio door, holding it wide as they mounted the back steps.
“Daniel, just set her at the kitchen table. Cat’s putting the kettle on.”
~
She asked to be shown to the bathroom. Her bladder pounded, but more than anything—now that she was safe—she wanted a moment alone. Daniel led her down a short hallway off the kitchen and flipped on the light.
“Should I wait outside?”
“I’ve got it. Thanks. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Clean towels in the closet. Pain reliever’s in the cabinet. Use whatever you need. Fi won’t mind.”
She nodded and waited for him to shut the door behind her. A bottle labeled paracetamol sat on the second shelf of the medicine cabinet. With the remaining battery power on her phone, Annie tapped into the unprotected Wi-Fi and did a quick search online to make certain an alcoholic could take whatever it was without fear of disrupting her tenuous grip on sobriety. There it was. On the safe list; also known as acetaminophen. Tylenol. She unscrewed the cap with shaking hands and shook out two pills. Leaning against the sink, she lifted her head to face her reflection.
Her eyes were black stones against her white skin, the green irises nearly swallowed by wide pupils. A band still held most of her ponytail together, but limp strands of hair stuck to her face. She unzipped Daniel’s rain slicker and let it drop to the floor, then unzipped her running jacket. Her thin technical shirt clung damply to her skin, but she couldn’t raise her right arm more than a few inches from her side. The shirt would have to be cut off. She pushed it up and turned her right side to the mirror. Red. In a few hours it would be blue and green.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Annie? It’s Fiana. May I come in?”
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Sure.”
With silent concentration, Fiana dampened a washcloth with warm water and pressed softly against Annie’s leg and shoulder, loosening the blood and fabric that had dried together. Once the skin was soft enough, she used her sewing shears to cut through the fabric of Annie’s running tights and shirt. Annie stood trembling in her bra and panties, tensing at the sting of antiseptic as Fiana dabbed away the road grit.
Sitting on the edge of the claw-foot tub, Fiana worked in silence but for a few gentle instructions: “Turn just a bit for me,” “Can you raise your arm, love?” and “This will hurt, I’m afraid.” At last she looked up. “The mother in me would have insisted on taking you to the hospital. But I wouldn’t have wanted to go, either, if I were you. You’ll be right as rain. Sore, but all right. Have you eaten?”
Her matter-of-fact manner was a balm to Annie’s frayed nerves. “I could use something.”
Fiana pressed her palms against her thighs and rose to standing. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? We’ve got a guest room just down the hall. You can have a proper soak in this tub.” Annie’s head was shaking no, but Fiana persisted. “You can accept help, Annie.”
There was another knock on the door. “Ma?”
“That’d be Cat. I asked her to scrounge up some clothes for you. Is it all right if she comes in?”
Annie was too weary to care. “Of course.”
Fiana opened the door just enough to let Catriona angle in, a bundle of clothing pressed against her chest. “Hi, Annie.” She took in the scraped and bruised skin and whistled. “Jaysus. You took a tumble.”
“Thanks much for that astute observation, daughter.” Fiana took the clothing from her arms and handed Annie a T-shirt and cable knit pullover.
Annie looked up helplessly. “I can’t raise my arm. I’m sorry. Any chance of a zip or button-up?”
“Of course.” She took the tops from Annie and hastened out the door.
“You’re gorgeous,” Cat said, handing her a pair of pink cotton sweatpants with a drawstring waist. “I didn’t think women could really look like that—I thought muscles were Photoshopped into the magazines.”
She tried to laugh, but the ribs in her right side protested. “Thanks, Cat. Though I wish someone could Photoshop out the bruises and road rash I’ll have tomorrow.” She sat on the closed lid of the toilet and eased the pants over her thighs, standing to tug them to her waist. They were snug, but the brushed fabric was soft and warm.
“Oh, these, too.” Catriona handed her a pair of wool socks.
Annie held on to them, not wanting to go through the painful sit-stand routine again.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry for blathering on about my uncle the other night. I think I just wanted to impress you, and Polly said I probably really betrayed Daniel’s confidence. So, I’m sorry.” The young woman blushed, her wide face earnest, her eyes shining.
Annie pressed a hand on the girl’s arm. “No worries. Just women talking, okay?”
Catriona nodded, still looking miserable.
“Have you said anything to your uncle? About what you shared with me?”
She shook her head, started to speak, but her mother entered, a hooded cardigan in one hand. “Let’s leave you alone,” said Fiana. “The guest room is next door, first on the right. Daniel is making tea and toast. You’ll stay the night. No arguing.” She and Catriona left before Annie could protest.
Not that she would have protested too strongly. Yes, there it was. The hope to see Daniel, one last time.