She had to. Her own heart was all she had left to give. She could offer hope. Shore up courage. Administer kindness.
Bridget held out her hand to one of the twins. “Are you Jean or Jan?” she asked.
“Jan.”
“I’m Jean,” the other girl said. They looked so cold and alone.
Bridget pulled Jan and Jean to her and wrapped her arms around them. They were covered in dirt and smelled of river water and campfire smoke. Connie came close, and Bridget took the girl’s hand in hers so that they were all holding on together. “Girls, let’s pray for your parents.”
As she prayed the Lord’s Prayer with the girls clasped close to her, tears welled in Bridget’s eyes and this time she didn’t try to keep them from falling. When—if—Roy and Mildred Wilson died, she would grieve with these children. If Phillip lost his foot or his mother, it would break her heart.
She kept the girls in her embrace long after they said amen, her head bent in silent supplication.Lord, I beg you. Send help. We’re barely holding on.
chapter 58:CLAIRE
“You have to let me go.” Beth’s voice was a whisper.
Claire clutched at Beth as she slipped farther into the water. “No,” Claire said. Her frigid lips didn’t form words like they should. “Keep holding on.”
But Beth’s eyes closed and she went limp. Her weight sagged against Claire, pulling her downward. Claire couldn’t breathe, her grip on the branch failing as her frozen hands cramped with her weight and Beth’s.Lord, help me. Help me hold on.
Then she heard it.
Singing.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.”
Was it her mind playing tricks on her? Was the memory of Bridget and Frannie and Claire singing together at St. Malachy’s going to be her last thought before she lost her grip and slipped under the water? Dad, in the pew below, looking up at his girls, the pride and happiness in his eyes.
“That saved a wretch like me.”
She wasn’t imagining it. “Beth,” she said sharply, jostling her. “Do you hear that?”Please tell me you hear it. Please wake up.
“I once was lost, but now am found.” It was stronger now, voices joining in. “Was blind but now I see.”
Beth’s eyes flickered. “I hear it,” Beth whispered.
“Beth,” Claire begged, “stay with me. Sing with me.”
“He will my shield and portion be.”
Beth reached up, her thin white hand grasped at the branch. Her fingers closed around it. The weight on Claire eased, and she could breathe again.
Beth’s lips mouthed the words and Claire whispered them with her. “As long as life endures.”
The singing stopped, but Beth stayed with her.
The rain turned from a clatter to a rustle. The water was at Claire’s chin. The tree bent with their weight. There was nowhere left to go. No more branches to save them.
But the singing... people were out there, close enough that she could hear them. Close enough to help them. She waited, hope giving her strength she knew wasn’t her own.
Then, a sound. A shout. A calling over the water. “Where are you?”
Claire didn’t move. It sounded like...
“Where are you?”
It was... could it be? “Frannie,” she croaked. With a surge, she stretched upwards and shouted with everything in her, pushing the single word past her dust-dry throat and parched lips. “Frannie!”
