All That Remains. Janice Johnson Kay
it in the window. Big rubber flashlight in case this went on into night. He had a cache that held some clean drinking water and energy snacks; he slung that in, too, hoping she’d had the sense to get out of the way and he hadn’t knocked her out. Finally he killed the motor, reached high and just got his hands over the soaking wet sill.
He was hanging there when something big hit the boat. The whole seat that anchored the rope ripped free with a groan, and the boat swung away. His fingers began to slip. He had a cold, clear moment of knowing he was going to fall. Vest or not, he wouldn’t have a chance in the bitter floodwaters.
Small strong hands grabbed his wrists and held on tight.
CHAPTER TWO
ALEC KNEW SHE WOULDN’T be able to hold on to him for long. He was a big man, his considerable weight hanging by his fingertips and her grip. But she’d arrested his slide toward the floodwaters, and he inched his right hand toward the rope and grappling iron. A second later, he’d managed to grab the iron above the knot.
His shoulders were screaming. As he tried to pull himself upward, he cursed the bulky flotation vest that caught on the clapboards. With his toes he scrambled for purchase. Any tiny toehold. His booted feet kept slipping. But the woman was exerting steady upward pressure, too, and he got a better hold on the windowsill with his left hand. He closed his eyes, summoned the memory of doing that last pull-up in P.E. so long ago, and with a guttural sound put everything he had into one try.
He was almost shocked to find his shoulders over the edge. She wrapped her arms around him and held tightly as he tried to clear the window.
The damn vest snagged. He had to maneuver a half roll, which meant he tumbled into the attic and fell hard onto one shoulder.
As he lay there, winded, muscles shaking from the exertion, the woman uttered little cries interspersed with “Are you all right? Oh, God. I didn’t think you’d make it. Please. Are you all right?”
A grunt was the best he could do. She turned abruptly and shoved the window down as far as it would go with the iron grappling hook biting into the wood.
Alec flopped to his back and stared up at thick cobwebs festooning open beams. He’d left the goddamn radio, he thought, stunned at his stupidity. It was gone with the boat.
“Shit,” he said aloud.
“You’re all right.”
He rolled his head to look at the woman. The extremely pregnant woman. It was hard to see anything but that gigantic belly.
“I’m alive,” he conceded. “Thank you.”
“For getting myself stuck here? You should be cursing me.”
Alec gave a grunt of laughter. “Thousands of people have gotten themselves stuck somewhere or other. Nobody expected a flood of this magnitude, or the waters to rise so damn fast. Trust me, you’re not alone.”
“I didn’t know there was going to be a flood at all,” she admitted. “I’m not from around here. I stopped for the night before I headed into Arkansas, but I didn’t even turn on the TV or see any newspaper headlines. The rain was scary, but I didn’t have a clue until I drove into the water.”
“Car still there?”
She nodded.
He shoved himself to a sitting position, his back to the wall beside the window. With clumsy, cold hands, he unbuckled the PFD and yanked it over his head. It landed with a splat on the attic floor. It was bloody cold in here, but he unsnapped his raincoat, too, and finally stood to strip off the coat and yellow rain pants. Beneath, he wore jeans and a thick chamois shirt under a down vest. Wool socks and boots.
His cell phone was in the pocket of his vest, which would have made him feel optimistic if didn’t know damn well there would be no coverage here in the valley. Cell phones were notoriously unreliable throughout the Ozarks. He turned it on, in case.
No bars.
“Doesn’t it work?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Alec shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anyway. It would take a helicopter to get us out of here, and there aren’t enough of those to go around.”
She went very still for a long moment, as if absorbing the undoubtedly terrifying knowledge that he was as good as it was going to get. At last she said, in a briskly practical voice, “Your hair’s wet. Here.” She offered a piece of clothing—a pajama top, maybe Josiah’s?—and he used it to scrub his head.
Then, finally, he sat and really looked at her.
She was a small woman. Hard to judge height, given her girth and with her kneeling, but he’d be willing to bet she didn’t top five foot three or four. Small bones. Tiny wrists. Feet encased in enormous wool socks. Her legs were bare beneath what he guessed was a man’s flannel shirt. Probably Josiah’s, as well.
His assessment moved upward. She had a small, upturned nose, nice lips that were neither thin nor pouty and brown eyes that dominated an elfin face so thin it looked gaunt. Medium brown hair that had gotten wet and dried without seeing a hairbrush. Stick-straight, it was shoved behind ears that poked out a bit, adding to that fey affect. Not a pretty woman, for sure, but…something.
“Are you here alone?”
She nodded. “Except for…” She gestured at her belly.
“You’re having contractions.”
“Yes.”
“When did they start?” As if that would tell him anything. He sure as hell was no expert on childbirth. His wife’s first labor had been dizzyingly fast, and Alec had missed the birth of his younger daughter entirely.
“I don’t know,” this woman said softly. “I think now…almost two days ago. When I was driving, my back kept hurting. It would come and go. I thought it was because I was so tense. You know, with the rain coming down so hard, and hardly any visibility, and not really knowing where I was going.”
“Where were you going?”
Those big brown eyes sought his. “Um…to visit a friend. Molly Hayes. No, Rothenberg. She got married. Do you know her?”
Alec shook his head. “I haven’t lived in these parts that long. I’m sorry. If I haven’t encountered them on the job, I probably don’t know them.”
“Oh.” Then, in an entirely different voice, she groaned, “Ohhhh.”
Galvanized, Alec shifted to his knees, gripped her shoulder—so fragile his hand felt huge—and guided her as gently as he could to her makeshift pallet. “Lie down. That’s it.” She clenched her teeth, her body bowed so that he doubted anything but her shoulders and heels touched the pallet. Alec unpried the fisted fingers of one hand and took it in his. She grabbed on so hard it hurt. Hell, maybe she could have pulled him in the window on her own, especially in the grip of a contraction.
“You’re doing great,” he murmured. “That’s it, honey. Ride it out. It’ll pass. That’s it. You’re doing great.”
He listened with incredulity to his own drivel. For God’s sake, how was that supposed to help her? As if she didn’t know the contraction would pass.
When it did, she collapsed like a rubber raft with the air valve opened.
“Do you have a watch? How often are they coming?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “No watch.”
“I have one.” The glass was slightly fogged, but the second hand still swept around. “We’ll time you.” Her lips were chapped, and he saw a streak of blood. She’d bitten down too hard, he guessed. “Did you take a childbirth class?”
“I got books.”
Alec didn’t waste time discussing what she’d read. “Here’s what you’re