The Breaking Point (33 page)

D
ECEMBER
20, 2003

9
A.M.

GABE FLEXED HIS FINGERS, GRIMACING AS PAIN SHOT
through them.

Had he ever been this cold before? If so, he sure didn’t remember it. Though there was blessed little snow this morning, a biting wind had kicked up and seemed bent on blowing right in their faces. After just a couple of hours of walking, cold had seeped through his entire body and come to rest in his hands and fingers, making them ache all the way to his elbows.

“Oh, no.”

Gabe looked up. Renee was leading, Bo at her side. The terrain, though covered in dense woods, had been level, making the going fairly easy, despite the deep snow. Even so, they’d been trading the lead position so neither of them had to endure the wind up front for too long. “What?”

He saw the droop of her shoulders and came to stand beside her and the dog, and felt his own shoulders droop in response.

So much for easy going.

As though it had decided they’d had it too easy, their nice, level ground dropped off into a steep grade. Even on a nice day it would be a treacherous descent. But now, as cold and tired as they were, with the snow to hinder them …

“Great.” Gabe looked left, then right, but it was clear there was no way around it. They would have to make their way to the bottom to stay on course for the river.

Renee leaned against his arm. “This should be interesting.”

At the apprehension in her voice, Gabe drew in a deep breath and slipped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “We’ll be fine.”

Her worried eyes scanned his face. “Are you just saying that?”

He forced as much confidence into his words as he could, considering the way his knees wanted to give way from fatigue and pain. “We’ll be fine, hon. So long as we take our time and are careful, we shouldn’t have any trouble.” He reached down to scratch Bo behind the ears. “Let me take Bo, and we’ll lead the way. You just step where I do, and take it nice and slow. If you start to slip, let me know and I’ll do what I can to catch you.”

Renee chewed her lip, then nodded and held out Bo’s lead. The dog hopped up and peered over the edge, then looked back at Gabe with what he swore was an “Are you
nuts?”
expression in those husky eyes.

Without a doubt
, he thought as he took a step over the edge and planted his foot in the knee-deep snow. When he was sure he wouldn’t slip, he grabbed a nearby branch and took another step. And another.

Man, this grade was steep! And the way his feet kept sliding with each new step, it felt as if there was ice under the snow.

Gabe grabbed another branch, forcing his numb fingers to grip and hold, and glanced back at Renee. “Be careful, Ren, it’s really slick he—”

His words ended on a yelp as the branch he was holding suddenly snapped. Arms windmilling, Gabe threw Bo’s rope toward Renee to avoid getting tangled in it and scrambled to catch his balance. But it was too late. His feet shot out from under him, and the next thing he knew he was tumbling down the hill. He did his best to tuck, but his aching, cold body just didn’t want to respond.

He hit bottom with a thud, and his mind filled with bright light—and then went dark.

“Gabe!”

Renee clutched at Bo’s lead, holding on to the branch she’d grabbed for dear life as the dog pranced and yelped, clearly anxious to get to Gabe. She gave one quick tug on the leash. “Bo, sit!”

The agitated husky plopped his backside into the snow but never took his gaze from Gabe’s still form sprawled at the bottom of the grade. Sending up a quick prayer for protection, Renee made her way down as quickly as she could.

Don’t let him be hurt. Oh, please, don’t let him be hurt …

When she reached the bottom, she scrambled to her husband’s side. Bo beat her there, hunkering down to give Gabe’s pale face frantic swipes with his tongue.

He lay on his back, eyes closed, but a low groan slipped from his lips.

“Gabe? Hon?” She knelt beside him, leaning close to hear what he was trying to say “What? What did you say?”

He pried one eye open and peered up at her. “I said, ‘Yuck … dog breath.’”

Semihysterical laughter tickled the back of her throat, and Renee took hold of Bo’s collar, pulling him away as she wiped at the dampness on her chilled cheeks. “Sorry about that. He got to you faster than I did.” She eased her pack from her back and secured Bo to the straps so her hands were free.

Normally just the pack wouldn’t even have slowed the husky down if he decided to run. But Renee knew Bo wouldn’t be leaving Gabe’s side anytime soon.

“Yeah, well—” Gabe groaned again as he eased into a sitting position—“he’s got four legs; you’ve only got two.” He rubbed his hand over his face and grimaced. “Man … that hurt.”

Renee figured that was an understatement. She took hold of his arm. “Let me help you stand.”

He leaned on her as he pushed himself up—then gave another yelp and fell back onto the snow, his features tense and pale. “Great, just great!” The words came out on a moan.

Renee leaned over him. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

His reply came through gritted teeth, but she couldn’t tell if that was because of the pain or his frustration. “I think I sprained my ankle. Perfect. Just perfect.”

A sprained ankle. That was all? That was a miracle!

Renee put a hand on his arm, and his gaze came to meet hers. “Gabe, it could have been a lot worse than that.” She knew her voice was trembling, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart had almost stopped when she saw him somersaulting down the hill. “If you ask me, God took pretty good care of you just now.”

His frustration melted away and he nodded. “You’re right.” With a sigh, he stared down at his ankle. “You’d better help me wrap this ankle with something—”

“First, let’s pack it with some ice for a little while.”

He started to protest, but Renee stopped him. “We need to keep it from swelling. Besides—” she managed a smile, though she knew it was feeble—“I could use the rest.”

An answering smile tugged at his lips. “Okay. You win.”

He had to be hurting pretty bad to give in so quickly. As gently as she could, she piled scoops of snow around his already swelling ankle. Sitting back on her heels, she looked around. “I’m going to see if I can find you a walking stick of some sort.”

“Good idea.” Gabe’s voice was strained, but he still smiled at her. “I think I’ll wait here.”

She smiled back. “Good idea.”

1
P.M.

Was the whole world against them?

Gabe leaned on his walking stick, keeping his weight on his good ankle, and stared at the creek in front of them. Not the river, mind you, which would have been an answer to prayer. But a creek. A knee-deep, four-and-a-half-foot-wide creek.

Right in the middle of their path. And if they were going to hold to their bearing west, they’d have to cross it.

“Well—” Gabe could tell Renee was trying to sound hopeful as they stood there staring at the tumbling water—“maybe we can just follow it to the river.”

He considered it. Odds were good that it would feed into the river at some point, but exactly
what
point?

Therein, as Shakespeare once said, lies the rub.

“Hon, this thing could meander on for miles. We’ve had a stretch of good weather since the storm died down, but I’m not counting on it to stay that way. So the faster we get to the river, the better.”

Renee looked from him back to the creek. “Which means we cross it.”

“Which means we cross it.”

She nodded again, then concern touched her features: “What about Bo?”

Gabe started to remove his pack. “Of the three of us, I figure he’ll have the least trouble with this thing. All we have to do is give him the proper motivation.” He slid a baggie with dog treats from his pack. “I’ll toss our stuff across, jump over, then coax him with a cookie.”

At the word cookie, Bo’s ears perked up and he fixed his two-colored gaze on Gabe.

Renee chuckled and scratched the husky behind his ears. “Can’t we just keep our packs on? I don’t want stuff to fall out into the snow.”

“I’d be more concerned about it getting wet if you don’t make the jump.”

She looked from him to the creek, then pulled her pack off and brought it to him.

He gave her a smile as she handed it over. “Besides, if for some reason you don’t clear the water, last thing you want is stuff on your back, weighing you down.”

Gabe lifted the two packs and carried them to the edge of the water. He drew back and gave his pack a heave, watching it arc into the air, then land with a thud on the other side.

“Nice throw.”

He tossed a grin at Renee, who’d come to stand beside him, then flung her pack over as well. It landed right next to his. He turned to her, throwing his arms out like a circus performer who’d just done some wonderful trick. “How’s
that
for placement?”

Renee applauded, and he took an exaggerated bow. Giggling, she plopped down in the snow and angled a look up at him. “Think maybe we’re just a bit tired and punchy?”

Gabe reached down to ruffle her hair. “Yeah, but it’s good to be that way once in a while.” He held his hand out to her. “Now come on over here and let me show you what we need to do.”

She rose and followed him to the water’s edge. “Let me guess … jump?”

He poked her with his elbow “That, Einstein, and fall forward.”

Her nose crinkled. “Fall forward? What do you mean?”

“If you feel yourself slipping after you land, try to fall toward me, not backward into the water. I’d really rather not have to deal with hypothermia on top of everything else.”

“Speaking of which—” she crouched to probe his ankle, her touch light and gentle—“how are you going to jump with this?”

Gabe let a crooked smile show. “It’s not hurting near as much as it was. I think your snowpacks helped. Besides, it’s not the jumping that’s the problem. It’s the landing.”

“Ain’t it the truth,” she muttered as she rose and got out of his way. “Ain’t it the truth.”

He knew what she was thinking. Jumping into their relationship, into marriage, into trouble—all that had been easy. But landing on solid ground … that was downright tricky.

Gabe put the majority of his weight on his uninjured foot, sucked in a fortifying breath, and jumped. He cleared the creek with no trouble. Then his foot hit the ground, and pain shot up his leg. He staggered, then went down on one knee.

“Are you okay?”

He couldn’t answer her. He just held up a hand, begging for time to breathe again. When the pain finally eased, he pushed himself up, careful not to put too much pressure on his throbbing ankle.

Hobbling to his pack, he pulled out a doggie treat.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at Renee as he tucked the dog biscuit into his shirt pocket. “Fine. It wasn’t fun, but I made it. Now toss me Bo’s rope, then you come on over. I think he’ll be less inclined to balk if we’re both on this side.”

Renee tossed the rope, and Gabe caught it, then tied it off on a nearby tree. Bo danced back and forth in the snow, and
Renee told him to sit and stay. She had to repeat the command, but Bo finally complied—after casting a pleading look in Gabe’s direction.

“Okay, hon. Just grab my hand. I’ll help you come across.” He planted himself at the edge of the water, his injured foot at the back, and held out his hand. She grasped it, keeping her eyes on his face. “Remember, if you feel yourself slipping, fall toward me. Fall forward.”

“Okay. You count. We’ll go on three.”

They both stopped, and Gabe knew from Renee’s expression that she was thinking the same thing as he. He beat her to the punch. “Do we go on three, or count one, two, three,
then
go?” It was one of their favorite lines from
Lethal Weapon.

Renee’s laughter wrapped around him like a down comforter on a winter night. She leaned back, dropping his hand in mock defeat. “Sure thing. Make me laugh when I’m about to go over water in freezing weather. Just keep in mind, if I get hypothermia, you have to carry me.”

“Sorry.” He waggled his brows, then stretched his hand out again. “Okay, go on three. Ready?”

Her quick nod told him she was. “One, two,
three!”

Between his tug on her hand and her jump, Renee fairly sailed over the creek, landing in Gabe’s arms, sending them both sprawling. He grunted on impact with the ground, holding her tightly in his arms. He lay there, catching his breath, fighting the new pain in his ankle, and she rolled to the side, then patted his arm.

“Thanks for the help, Gabe.”

“It was nuthin’.” It would have sounded far more convincing if the words hadn’t come out on a groan.

A soulful yodel brought them both to their feet. Bo was circling and prancing, looking like a kid whose Mom was about to leave him at preschool.