had not been alone, retrieving her from the submerged stump would have been easier. Each time he came toward her, she was too blinded by the searchlight to see what he was trying to do.
Then, after several futile tries, he realized she was trying to walk to him. If she stepped off that stump and into the swiftly moving flood waters, she would be gone and there would be nothing he could do to save her.
“Hang on, bébé. Stay there! Don’t move!” he yelled. “Uncle Justin will come to you.”
All the time that Laurel had been clutching the jacket, she’d been so locked into Rachelle Moutan’s fear that she’d been unable to voice her own thoughts. And even though she’d been aware of the other voice on Harper Fonteneau’s radio, she’d been unable to connect to him in any way.
Through Rachelle’s eyes, she’d seen the first glimmer of the searchlight as the boat had come through the storm. She’d felt the acceleration of the little girl’s heartbeat. The sound of her sobs had torn through Laurel’s heart as surely as if they’d been her own. Then she’d heard the man shouting, telling the little girl to stay there. She’d felt the child’s urge to move, and she’d added her own silent plea to make her stay still.
The light on the boat was in her eyes now. She could hear the sound of the engine blending with the wind and the rain. The smell of gasoline scorched the insides of her nostrils as the man turned the boat sideways, trying to get close enough to snatch the child from the stump.
She felt Rachelle’s hesitation again, and again she silently told her to wait for help to come to her. Once she felt the child touching her own face, as if in disbelief that she was hearing voices from within, but Laurel couldn’t lessen her connection to the child for fear she would come to harm. So she waited, watching through Rachelle’s eyes as the light centered on the stump, watching as a shadowy figure suddenly went over the side of the boat and started swimming through the swiftly moving waters toward her.
He was close now. She could hear the sound of his labored breathing as he fought the current to get to her. Suddenly he loomed, a large and imposing silhouette, separated from the storm by the searchlight at his back. Laurel watched him reach for the child, heard him shouting—pleading with Rachelle to jump.
“Come to me, bébé. Jump to Uncle Justin. You can do it.”
The sound of his voice sent a shiver of recognition sliding through Laurel’s consciousness, nearly shattering her concentration. But she made herself focus on the child. She felt her fear, sensed her hesitation, then urged her forward.
You can do it, Rachelle. Jump, as if you were playing in your own backyard and it was your own little wading pool. He will catch you, and then you can go home to your mommy and daddy.
Rachelle heard her uncle’s voice, but it was the voice in her head that gave her the courage she needed. Without further hesitation, she jumped off the stump, falling directly into Justin Bouvier’s outstretched arms.
At the moment of impact, Justin wrapped his arms around her and struggled with the urge to weep. They’d been looking for her for so long, and he’d been so afraid that the end to this day would be one of tragedy. Instead, their precious little girl was alive and well.
“That’s my good girl,” Justin said softly, clutching her close against his chest as he headed back toward the anchored boat.
And as he turned, the searchlight momentarily wiped the shadows from his face. In that moment, Laurel saw him through Rachelle’s eyes and heard herself moan in disbelief.
The chin was just the least little bit square. The nose was strong, and once upon a time, might have been broken, because there was a tiny bump just below the bridge. His hair was seal black and slicked down upon his head from the rain, and she knew, although she could not see, that his eyes were as black as the night. Through
Then, after several futile tries, he realized she was trying to walk to him. If she stepped off that stump and into the swiftly moving flood waters, she would be gone and there would be nothing he could do to save her.
“Hang on, bébé. Stay there! Don’t move!” he yelled. “Uncle Justin will come to you.”
All the time that Laurel had been clutching the jacket, she’d been so locked into Rachelle Moutan’s fear that she’d been unable to voice her own thoughts. And even though she’d been aware of the other voice on Harper Fonteneau’s radio, she’d been unable to connect to him in any way.
Through Rachelle’s eyes, she’d seen the first glimmer of the searchlight as the boat had come through the storm. She’d felt the acceleration of the little girl’s heartbeat. The sound of her sobs had torn through Laurel’s heart as surely as if they’d been her own. Then she’d heard the man shouting, telling the little girl to stay there. She’d felt the child’s urge to move, and she’d added her own silent plea to make her stay still.
The light on the boat was in her eyes now. She could hear the sound of the engine blending with the wind and the rain. The smell of gasoline scorched the insides of her nostrils as the man turned the boat sideways, trying to get close enough to snatch the child from the stump.
She felt Rachelle’s hesitation again, and again she silently told her to wait for help to come to her. Once she felt the child touching her own face, as if in disbelief that she was hearing voices from within, but Laurel couldn’t lessen her connection to the child for fear she would come to harm. So she waited, watching through Rachelle’s eyes as the light centered on the stump, watching as a shadowy figure suddenly went over the side of the boat and started swimming through the swiftly moving waters toward her.
He was close now. She could hear the sound of his labored breathing as he fought the current to get to her. Suddenly he loomed, a large and imposing silhouette, separated from the storm by the searchlight at his back. Laurel watched him reach for the child, heard him shouting—pleading with Rachelle to jump.
“Come to me, bébé. Jump to Uncle Justin. You can do it.”
The sound of his voice sent a shiver of recognition sliding through Laurel’s consciousness, nearly shattering her concentration. But she made herself focus on the child. She felt her fear, sensed her hesitation, then urged her forward.
You can do it, Rachelle. Jump, as if you were playing in your own backyard and it was your own little wading pool. He will catch you, and then you can go home to your mommy and daddy.
Rachelle heard her uncle’s voice, but it was the voice in her head that gave her the courage she needed. Without further hesitation, she jumped off the stump, falling directly into Justin Bouvier’s outstretched arms.
At the moment of impact, Justin wrapped his arms around her and struggled with the urge to weep. They’d been looking for her for so long, and he’d been so afraid that the end to this day would be one of tragedy. Instead, their precious little girl was alive and well.
“That’s my good girl,” Justin said softly, clutching her close against his chest as he headed back toward the anchored boat.
And as he turned, the searchlight momentarily wiped the shadows from his face. In that moment, Laurel saw him through Rachelle’s eyes and heard herself moan in disbelief.
The chin was just the least little bit square. The nose was strong, and once upon a time, might have been broken, because there was a tiny bump just below the bridge. His hair was seal black and slicked down upon his head from the rain, and she knew, although she could not see, that his eyes were as black as the night. Through
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