out?”
The girl’s shoulders press back as she nods. “It’s pretty heavy,” he warns, rubbing his arms in preparation.
“I’ll be quick,” she assures and positions herself on her knees. Loose chestnut curls fall about her shoulders as she waits, concealing her face.
Timothy grunts as he puts all his weight onto the coat hanger. The china cabinet slowly rises like before, but this time he can feel a strain in the makeshift lever. “I don’t know how long I can hold this!”
Just as his arms begin to give out on him, he hears her yell and the cabinet slams to the ground. Sweat trickles into his eyes as he falls back and sees Iris cradled in the stranger’s arms. She strokes the bloody strands of hair out of his neighbor’s face, whispering to her.
“She doesn’t look too good,” Timothy mutters as he crawls to their side. Iris is far too pale. Her face is riddled with dark bruising. Blood seeps from her nose. Her arm hangs at a sickening angle over the girl’s lap. No other immediate injuries can be seen but he fears that unseen damage may still exist.
“We need to get her to a hospital.” Tears spill over and roll down her cheeks as the girl stares at the fragile woman in her arms.
“I’ll get my truck ready. Are you ok to stay here with her?”
The warm smile that meets his questions chases away his hesitation. He nods and rises, rushing back through the darkened house and out through the kitchen door. Glass crunches underfoot as he rushes toward his house. He yanks on his wooden gate and cries out when it comes free in his hand and tumbles to the ground. Stomping over the broken gate, he rushes into his backyard and slides to a halt with his heart sinking into his stomach.
What was once a two-car garage doubling as extra storage for his tools has been reduced to splinters and rubble. The towering tree in his backyard has smashed straight through the garage and taken out both his personal and work truck.
Timothy barely has time to mutter a curse before he hears a scream come from within Iris’ house. He turns and sprints back through the kitchen door and finds his neighbor passed out in the girl’s arms. “What happened?”
“She started seizing. I tried to hold on to her but she was stronger than me. Is she epileptic?” She asks, rubbing a growing red patch on her face, evidence of Iris’ flailing arms.
He tries to think back, to pinpoint any moment in the past seven years living beside Mrs. Stevens that he has ever heard her mention this condition. “I don’t know,” he finally says and kneels down, scooping the frail woman into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking her to the hospital.” He rises and tightens his grip, fighting to keep from thinking of how fragile Iris feels in his arms. He knows her health hasn’t been the best these past few months, but after he lost Abby, Timothy lost a part of his heart along with her. The part that remained kept everyone at a distance, no matter what. Guilt riddles him as he pushes through the front door and rushes down the front path.
I should have taken care of her. Abby would have done that. Would have expected it of me.
“Aren’t you going the wrong way?”
He looks back over his shoulder to find the girl glancing at the driveway that separates the two yards. “My trucks are gone. Darn tree took them out last night.”
“What about her?” She rushes to catch up to Timothy. “Doesn’t she have a car?”
“That old thing hasn’t been started in nearly three years. Iris has a bit of a temper when she drives. When her car started giving her grief, her son felt it best to let that aspect of her independence go.”
“So you’re just going to carry her ? Isn’t it a long way?”
He nods, trying not to think of just how many miles lie between him and help. Maybe they will come across a friend with a working vehicle. Maybe they will pass a
The girl’s shoulders press back as she nods. “It’s pretty heavy,” he warns, rubbing his arms in preparation.
“I’ll be quick,” she assures and positions herself on her knees. Loose chestnut curls fall about her shoulders as she waits, concealing her face.
Timothy grunts as he puts all his weight onto the coat hanger. The china cabinet slowly rises like before, but this time he can feel a strain in the makeshift lever. “I don’t know how long I can hold this!”
Just as his arms begin to give out on him, he hears her yell and the cabinet slams to the ground. Sweat trickles into his eyes as he falls back and sees Iris cradled in the stranger’s arms. She strokes the bloody strands of hair out of his neighbor’s face, whispering to her.
“She doesn’t look too good,” Timothy mutters as he crawls to their side. Iris is far too pale. Her face is riddled with dark bruising. Blood seeps from her nose. Her arm hangs at a sickening angle over the girl’s lap. No other immediate injuries can be seen but he fears that unseen damage may still exist.
“We need to get her to a hospital.” Tears spill over and roll down her cheeks as the girl stares at the fragile woman in her arms.
“I’ll get my truck ready. Are you ok to stay here with her?”
The warm smile that meets his questions chases away his hesitation. He nods and rises, rushing back through the darkened house and out through the kitchen door. Glass crunches underfoot as he rushes toward his house. He yanks on his wooden gate and cries out when it comes free in his hand and tumbles to the ground. Stomping over the broken gate, he rushes into his backyard and slides to a halt with his heart sinking into his stomach.
What was once a two-car garage doubling as extra storage for his tools has been reduced to splinters and rubble. The towering tree in his backyard has smashed straight through the garage and taken out both his personal and work truck.
Timothy barely has time to mutter a curse before he hears a scream come from within Iris’ house. He turns and sprints back through the kitchen door and finds his neighbor passed out in the girl’s arms. “What happened?”
“She started seizing. I tried to hold on to her but she was stronger than me. Is she epileptic?” She asks, rubbing a growing red patch on her face, evidence of Iris’ flailing arms.
He tries to think back, to pinpoint any moment in the past seven years living beside Mrs. Stevens that he has ever heard her mention this condition. “I don’t know,” he finally says and kneels down, scooping the frail woman into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking her to the hospital.” He rises and tightens his grip, fighting to keep from thinking of how fragile Iris feels in his arms. He knows her health hasn’t been the best these past few months, but after he lost Abby, Timothy lost a part of his heart along with her. The part that remained kept everyone at a distance, no matter what. Guilt riddles him as he pushes through the front door and rushes down the front path.
I should have taken care of her. Abby would have done that. Would have expected it of me.
“Aren’t you going the wrong way?”
He looks back over his shoulder to find the girl glancing at the driveway that separates the two yards. “My trucks are gone. Darn tree took them out last night.”
“What about her?” She rushes to catch up to Timothy. “Doesn’t she have a car?”
“That old thing hasn’t been started in nearly three years. Iris has a bit of a temper when she drives. When her car started giving her grief, her son felt it best to let that aspect of her independence go.”
“So you’re just going to carry her ? Isn’t it a long way?”
He nods, trying not to think of just how many miles lie between him and help. Maybe they will come across a friend with a working vehicle. Maybe they will pass a
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