Read Online A Lesson in Forgiveness by Jennifer Connors - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Connors
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of the ivy covered gazebo, Ginny found some quiet to enjoy her book.
Engrossed in the pages of an early romance novel, Ginny hardly noticed the group of children who were fishing by the lake. Occasionally she would hear their squeals of laughter or their cries over losing their line. It was a familiar sound, having lived in a family friendly neighborhood back home, that she thought nothing of it.
Suddenly the quiet was shattered by screams. Looking up from her book, Ginny noticed that a group of children by the lake were screaming and pointing. In the middle of the lake, there was a young boy, trying to keep his balance on a piece of wood. In the next moment, the boy disappeared under the water, only to come up sputtering and yelling for help.
Ginny didn't even think. She got up and ran to the lake where the other children were yelling instructions to the young boy to hold on. One of the children had run off toward the house, apparently seeking help.
Ginny reached the lake in time to see the boy go under and not come back up. The children kept screaming, but she barely heard them. Having spent some of her career in the emergency room, Ginny was used to trauma and drama. She'd trained herself to perform, not panic. With a single-mindedness, hearing only the thoughts of what she should do and how to do them, she went about going into the water.
Realizing that her dress would weigh her down too much, Ginny quickly unbuttoned what she could and pulled the dress over her head. What buttons she couldn't reach were torn off. Next came her petticoats, slippers and stockings, then she was diving into the water. It was cool on such a warm day, but it never even entered her mind. Her only thought, drilled over and over again in her mind, was get that boy.
The water was murky and brown. It carried the smell of stagnant water, pungent with algae. She swam to the middle, where she'd last seen his small head before it failed to come up again. She dove down, opening her eyes to the brown water, feeling around for what she couldn't see. The mantra continued, holding back the panic: get that boy, get that boy .
She came up sputtering for air. Quickly filling her lungs, she dove down again and almost immediately felt the lifeless arm. It was lucky to find him so quickly. She knew that God must surely be smiling down on her. Dragging him back to the surface of the water, she began the swim back to shore. The closer she got, the more muddy the bottom, pulling at her feet and slowing her progress. Finally, she was able to climb the bank and pull the boy with her. The lifeless body was heavy, dead weight, but she pulled from strength that she didn't know she had. She laid him by the shore of the lake.
The children were all talking at once, but Ginny heard only the little boy's name: Gerard. Pulling his head back, Ginny blew two puffs of air into his lungs. Come on, Gerard, breath, dammit , she thought. After years of training, taking basic life support probably a dozen times, the steps were easy and familiar. Ginny put her fingers to the child's sickeningly white neck and felt for a pulse.
God was once again smiling down on her, because Gerard still had a pulse, which meant he had a chance. Every five seconds she would push air into his lungs. In between she would pray and beg God to help him. After what seemed like forever, but was in reality probably only a minute, Gerard lurched over and began coughing up all the water. Ginny helped turn him to his side and was slapping his back to get the water out of his lungs.
She barely felt the jacket thrown over her shoulders, barely heard the talk of everyone who was suddenly by the edge of the lake. All she heard was this little boy, now breathing and crying and clinging to her as if she were his life force. She felt her own tears, streaming down her face. Slowly, the sound of the boy and of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears began to subside. Looking up, she noticed she had an audience,
Engrossed in the pages of an early romance novel, Ginny hardly noticed the group of children who were fishing by the lake. Occasionally she would hear their squeals of laughter or their cries over losing their line. It was a familiar sound, having lived in a family friendly neighborhood back home, that she thought nothing of it.
Suddenly the quiet was shattered by screams. Looking up from her book, Ginny noticed that a group of children by the lake were screaming and pointing. In the middle of the lake, there was a young boy, trying to keep his balance on a piece of wood. In the next moment, the boy disappeared under the water, only to come up sputtering and yelling for help.
Ginny didn't even think. She got up and ran to the lake where the other children were yelling instructions to the young boy to hold on. One of the children had run off toward the house, apparently seeking help.
Ginny reached the lake in time to see the boy go under and not come back up. The children kept screaming, but she barely heard them. Having spent some of her career in the emergency room, Ginny was used to trauma and drama. She'd trained herself to perform, not panic. With a single-mindedness, hearing only the thoughts of what she should do and how to do them, she went about going into the water.
Realizing that her dress would weigh her down too much, Ginny quickly unbuttoned what she could and pulled the dress over her head. What buttons she couldn't reach were torn off. Next came her petticoats, slippers and stockings, then she was diving into the water. It was cool on such a warm day, but it never even entered her mind. Her only thought, drilled over and over again in her mind, was get that boy.
The water was murky and brown. It carried the smell of stagnant water, pungent with algae. She swam to the middle, where she'd last seen his small head before it failed to come up again. She dove down, opening her eyes to the brown water, feeling around for what she couldn't see. The mantra continued, holding back the panic: get that boy, get that boy .
She came up sputtering for air. Quickly filling her lungs, she dove down again and almost immediately felt the lifeless arm. It was lucky to find him so quickly. She knew that God must surely be smiling down on her. Dragging him back to the surface of the water, she began the swim back to shore. The closer she got, the more muddy the bottom, pulling at her feet and slowing her progress. Finally, she was able to climb the bank and pull the boy with her. The lifeless body was heavy, dead weight, but she pulled from strength that she didn't know she had. She laid him by the shore of the lake.
The children were all talking at once, but Ginny heard only the little boy's name: Gerard. Pulling his head back, Ginny blew two puffs of air into his lungs. Come on, Gerard, breath, dammit , she thought. After years of training, taking basic life support probably a dozen times, the steps were easy and familiar. Ginny put her fingers to the child's sickeningly white neck and felt for a pulse.
God was once again smiling down on her, because Gerard still had a pulse, which meant he had a chance. Every five seconds she would push air into his lungs. In between she would pray and beg God to help him. After what seemed like forever, but was in reality probably only a minute, Gerard lurched over and began coughing up all the water. Ginny helped turn him to his side and was slapping his back to get the water out of his lungs.
She barely felt the jacket thrown over her shoulders, barely heard the talk of everyone who was suddenly by the edge of the lake. All she heard was this little boy, now breathing and crying and clinging to her as if she were his life force. She felt her own tears, streaming down her face. Slowly, the sound of the boy and of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears began to subside. Looking up, she noticed she had an audience,
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