Not too much later, thunder rolled overhead and the rain began to fall in a downpour. She still wasn’t back. Worry crept into me, and I put the book down and looked out the window, overlooking the direction the path would have taken her.
Through the heavy rain, I saw her, a moving spot maybe half a mile from the house. She was moving quickly, trying to get out of the storm.
And then she fell, her body disappearing completely from sight.
A low swear tripped out of my mouth and before I knew it, I was grabbing a slicker off the hook by the door and racing out into the storm. As I went, lightning lit up the sky, creating an angry electric streak that bolted toward the ground. The crack of thunder that followed left a hollow ringing in my ears.
I picked up my pace, worrying she was hurt and lying there out in the open, vulnerable to the elements.
“Frankie!” I yelled, my voice cutting through the gusting wind. My shirt and jeans were soaked in minutes, my shoes were saturated, and I felt like I was walking in a puddle. Wet grass slapped against my legs and water dripped into my eyes.
I heard her call my name, the wind carrying the sound over to my ears. I ran faster, tapping into the reserve of energy my body always had, zipping over the wet grass across the slopping ground.
I stopped when I saw her. She was trudging up one of the slight hills, mud and rain soaking her hair and body. She looked like a drowned cat.
She was a few yards away when she saw me, her feet quickening their pace, but in her haste she slipped again.
She flung out her arms, trying to steady herself, to catch some balance and not fall, but there was no use. The ground was too slick and the mud too slippery.
I caught her around the waist just before she landed in a heap.
“I told you not to come out here alone,” I snapped, pulling her back onto her feet.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to come after me!”
“Shut up!” I yelled, yanking the slicker down over her head and putting up the hood. My heart was still beating too fast from watching her fall before.
“I’m already soaked,” she yelled over another rumble of thunder.
I didn’t bother to reply. I knew she was soaked—we both were—but I felt like I had to do something. I tugged her hand to pull her along behind me, and she made a soft whimper in the back of her throat.
I spun around, my eyes sweeping over her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. Her lips were turning an ugly shade of blue.
“Don’t lie to me!” I yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders. Rain was pelting us from every angle and it felt like a million tiny needles against my skin.
“I twisted my ankle.” Her shoulders sagged, like admitting she was hurt was somehow giving in and letting me win.
Which it was. She should have listened to me in the first place.
I turned around and crouched down, giving her my back. “Let’s go,” I called out.
She hesitated only a moment before climbing onto my back and wrapping her arms and legs around me. “Hold on!”
Even though I kind of liked having her wrapped around me, I moved quickly, trying to get us away from a storm that was far too violent.
I let us into the mudroom, setting her on a wooden bench by the door and pushing the wet hair off my forehead.
“Going off alone like that was stupid!” I burst out, anger ripping through me. Now that we were out of the rain and she was safe, I was going to let her have it.
“I didn’t know it was going to downpour!” she yelled back.
“You should have been more careful!”
“Why are you yelling at me?” she shouted, yanking off the slicker and throwing it on the floor. She was streaked with mud and dirt and her teeth were beginning to chatter.
My anger drained away like water in a sink. I knelt down and unlaced her ruined sneakers. “It’s hard not to yell at you,” I said gently.
