Read Online Anything But Civil by Anna Loan-Wilsey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Loan-Wilsey
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said, trying not to laugh.
“Sorry, Miss Davish,” the children said in unison. Edward brushed the snow on the ground with his boot and stared down.
“Apology accepted,” I said, offering my hand. Edward smiled and shook it heartily. Gertrude giggled and smiled at me before running back toward the trees. Her brother immediately followed his sister.
Chuckling under my breath, I continued on my hike. Yet before I’d gone a hundred yards, a high-pitched screech came from the direction of the children I’d left behind. I ran back the way I’d come.
“Help, help!” Edward was flying over the snow toward me screaming. “It’s Gertie!” He grabbed my hands and began pulling me down toward the river. “Come on, we have to help Gertie.”
I let him lead me to the edge of the river, all the while hearing screams and cries from Gertie. But when we got there she was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s your sister, Edward?” I asked. He pointed to a black hole in the river about ten feet from the edge, where the ice had broken completely. The snow around the hole had been scraped away on the side closest to the riverbank.
“Oh my God. She’s fallen through the ice?” I asked.
“We were playing and . . . the ice broke and . . . ,” Edward replied. “You have to get her out!”
Suddenly the little girl resurfaced, gasping for air and wildly thrashing about in the freezing water. She obviously couldn’t touch the bottom of the river.
“Ned! Ned! He-e-e-el-l-lp-p-p!” Gertie screamed, madly clutching for a hold on the slippery edge of ice. She burst into convulsive sobbing; her breathing sounded sporadic. Without thinking, I threw off my coat, dropped to my knees, and then crawled on my belly toward the break in the ice, pulling my coat behind me.
“I’m coming, Gertrude. Keep swimming. I’m almost there.”
I inched toward the struggling girl praying that the ice would hold my weight. Not wanting to get too close, I stopped about three feet from the hole and I threw the end of my coat toward it.
“Grab my coat, Gertrude!” I cried. “Grab my coat!”
As the little girl snatched the end of my coat, the weight of her pulled me toward the hole. The ice creaked and then stopped. I pulled my coat toward me and held my breath. The ice creaked again, but I could see that Gertrude had her elbows on the ice. A bald eagle circled silently above us.
“Hang on, Gertrude, and I’ll pull you out.”
“It’s hard!” the little girl cried. “My hands hurt and I can’t feel my legs!”
“Just hold on and everything will be all right.” I tried to sound convincing and keep the worry from my voice.
“Hold on, Gertie!” her brother shouted encouragement from the river’s edge. “She’ll get you out.”
It seemed to help. I could feel the coat draw taut as I slowly drew the little girl toward me. I inched backward painfully slow, trying to keep my weight evenly distributed, while pulling Gertrude from the water. When her legs and feet finally surfaced, I dragged her as quickly as I could to me. Her lips were blue and she was shivering uncontrollably. I wrapped her in my coat and pulled her tightly to my chest. I crawled back to the edge of the river and safety, on my knees.
“I want my mama!” Gertrude whimpered, her breathing shallow. I stood up with Edward’s helping hand.
“We’re going to get your mother right now, Gertie,” I said, starting to walk up the hill toward the path. I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of wings flapping behind us. The bald eagle had landed next to the break in the ice.
“Don’t worry, Gertie,” Edward said, patting his sister’s back. “You’re going to be all right now.”
“Edward’s right,” I said. “He’s going to see that you have warm clothes, a fire, and warm milk waiting for you.” I nodded to Edward, who immediately dashed back toward the house. I followed him as fast as I could.
“C-c-c-cold,” the child whispered, becoming lethargic
“Sorry, Miss Davish,” the children said in unison. Edward brushed the snow on the ground with his boot and stared down.
“Apology accepted,” I said, offering my hand. Edward smiled and shook it heartily. Gertrude giggled and smiled at me before running back toward the trees. Her brother immediately followed his sister.
Chuckling under my breath, I continued on my hike. Yet before I’d gone a hundred yards, a high-pitched screech came from the direction of the children I’d left behind. I ran back the way I’d come.
“Help, help!” Edward was flying over the snow toward me screaming. “It’s Gertie!” He grabbed my hands and began pulling me down toward the river. “Come on, we have to help Gertie.”
I let him lead me to the edge of the river, all the while hearing screams and cries from Gertie. But when we got there she was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s your sister, Edward?” I asked. He pointed to a black hole in the river about ten feet from the edge, where the ice had broken completely. The snow around the hole had been scraped away on the side closest to the riverbank.
“Oh my God. She’s fallen through the ice?” I asked.
“We were playing and . . . the ice broke and . . . ,” Edward replied. “You have to get her out!”
Suddenly the little girl resurfaced, gasping for air and wildly thrashing about in the freezing water. She obviously couldn’t touch the bottom of the river.
“Ned! Ned! He-e-e-el-l-lp-p-p!” Gertie screamed, madly clutching for a hold on the slippery edge of ice. She burst into convulsive sobbing; her breathing sounded sporadic. Without thinking, I threw off my coat, dropped to my knees, and then crawled on my belly toward the break in the ice, pulling my coat behind me.
“I’m coming, Gertrude. Keep swimming. I’m almost there.”
I inched toward the struggling girl praying that the ice would hold my weight. Not wanting to get too close, I stopped about three feet from the hole and I threw the end of my coat toward it.
“Grab my coat, Gertrude!” I cried. “Grab my coat!”
As the little girl snatched the end of my coat, the weight of her pulled me toward the hole. The ice creaked and then stopped. I pulled my coat toward me and held my breath. The ice creaked again, but I could see that Gertrude had her elbows on the ice. A bald eagle circled silently above us.
“Hang on, Gertrude, and I’ll pull you out.”
“It’s hard!” the little girl cried. “My hands hurt and I can’t feel my legs!”
“Just hold on and everything will be all right.” I tried to sound convincing and keep the worry from my voice.
“Hold on, Gertie!” her brother shouted encouragement from the river’s edge. “She’ll get you out.”
It seemed to help. I could feel the coat draw taut as I slowly drew the little girl toward me. I inched backward painfully slow, trying to keep my weight evenly distributed, while pulling Gertrude from the water. When her legs and feet finally surfaced, I dragged her as quickly as I could to me. Her lips were blue and she was shivering uncontrollably. I wrapped her in my coat and pulled her tightly to my chest. I crawled back to the edge of the river and safety, on my knees.
“I want my mama!” Gertrude whimpered, her breathing shallow. I stood up with Edward’s helping hand.
“We’re going to get your mother right now, Gertie,” I said, starting to walk up the hill toward the path. I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of wings flapping behind us. The bald eagle had landed next to the break in the ice.
“Don’t worry, Gertie,” Edward said, patting his sister’s back. “You’re going to be all right now.”
“Edward’s right,” I said. “He’s going to see that you have warm clothes, a fire, and warm milk waiting for you.” I nodded to Edward, who immediately dashed back toward the house. I followed him as fast as I could.
“C-c-c-cold,” the child whispered, becoming lethargic
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