Valerie Hansen - Out of the Depths

The muted silk dress she’d chosen for that evening was a favorite, partly because it brought out the misty-green of her hazel eyes. An attempt at highlighting her lashes with mascara, however, had had disastrous results. The brush had slipped and her right eye was still smarting.

Peering at her reflection in the truck’s rearview mirror, she ran one finger gently beneath her sore eye. At least it had quit watering so the remaining mascara was no longer making black smudges. She didn’t want Becky’s big brother to take one look at her and conclude she’d been the loser in a fistfight!

Thoughts of Cody Keringhoven made her pulse jump. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. And when he’d smiled at her and his blue eyes had sparkled so mischievously, she’d tingled all over, in spite of her vow to never get involved with another man.

Funny, Trudy mused, stepping down out of her pickup and starting toward the house. She hadn’t thought of Ned, her ex-fiancé, for ages. Perhaps she was finally getting over the disappointment of their breakup. It was high time.

Climbing the porch steps, she was about to knock when Logan pushed open the door and greeted her.

“Trudy Lynn! Glad you could make it. Becky told me she’d invited you.”

“Am I early? I didn’t see any other cars.”

“No. Not at all.” He ushered her inside. “Dan drove around back so Cody wouldn’t have to wrestle with the front stairs while he’s on crutches. Can I get you something to drink? We have iced tea, soda and lemonade.”

“Nothing now, thanks. Where is everybody?”

“Becky’s in the kitchen, chiseling supper out of the roaster, and Dan’s showing Carol Sue the newest model of those fancy cars he sells. The last time I saw Cody he was parked on the couch in the living room. Why don’t you go keep him company till everybody else gets back?”

“Maybe I should help your wife?”

“There is no help for her when it comes to cooking,” Logan joked. “Besides, that’s my job. I’ve gotten really good at salvaging burned food.”

Trudy Lynn took a mock swing at him. “Cynic.”

“Realist, you mean. Come on. I’ll introduce you to Cody, just in case he doesn’t remember meeting you before.”

“Oh, that’s flattering,” she retorted, grinning. “I met him at church, and again right here in this house last Christmas, besides your wedding. If he doesn’t remember me after all that, I’ll be really disappointed.”

They entered the modest living room together. Cody was seated on the brocade sofa with one leg propped stiffly on the coffee table atop a throw pillow. Dejection had affected him so deeply he barely resembled the vital man he’d been. It broke her heart to see such a dramatic, negative change.

Logan made brief small talk, then excused himself.

“Nice to see you again,” Trudy Lynn said, trying to sound upbeat.

Cody barely glanced at her. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t get up?”

“Sure. No problem. Mind if I sit here?”

He shrugged. “It’s a free country.”

Choosing to ignore his moodiness she perched at the opposite end of the sofa, taking care to avoid bumping the coffee table or his elevated leg. “I’m certainly glad it is. And I’m thankful for the folks who keep it that way, too. Were you in the army like Brother Logan?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Trudy Lynn tried a different subject. “Becky tells me you guide raft trips.”

He glanced at his injured leg, then scowled at her. “I used to.”

“You will again.”

“Not according to the doctors.”

Oh dear. No wonder he was bitter. Becky hadn’t told her enough about his injury to keep her from saying the wrong thing and now she had her foot planted firmly in her mouth.

“Have you gotten a second opinion?” she asked, hoping to salvage something encouraging from their conversation.

“What for?”

Trudy Lynn couldn’t help the tiny smile that threatened to spread as she said, “To see if the second doctor is as sure about your leg as the first one was? I think that’s what second opinions are supposed to do.”

“Very funny.”

“I figured it was worth a try.” Leaning closer, she lightly touched the back of his hand. “Look, Cody, I know you’ve had it rough lately. We all face problems we can’t understand, especially when we’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s how we let those situations influence us and shape our future that matters.”

He pulled his hand away. “You have no idea what I’m facing. Don’t preach to me, lady. I get enough of that from my family.”

“I see.”

Trudy Lynn’s initial urge was to apologize and commiserate with him. She quickly decided that would be the worst thing she could do. If he wasn’t ready to look for the bright side of his troubles, then so be it. She didn’t intend to sit there and argue with him.

Chin up, she got to her feet and smoothed her flowing skirt. “Okay. Have it your way. You can wallow in self-pity all you want. I’m going out to the kitchen to help your sister. It’s her I feel sorry for. I can go home. She’s going to be stuck here with you for who knows how long.”

The last thing she saw as she whirled and flounced from the room was Cody’s expression of utter astonishment.

As soon as he was alone, Cody sank back against the sofa cushions. That woman didn’t understand. Nobody could. He was still struggling to accept what had happened—and he’d been there—so how could anyone else have a clue as to what he was going through?

That fateful day had seemed perfect for running the rapids. “This is it,” he remembered shouting. “Paddles inside!”

The bow of the raft had cut through the high side of the channel and plunged straight into an eddy. Behind him, the Slighman brothers had been whooping it up like the seasoned veterans they were. It was the two younger men in the front of the raft who’d had Cody worried. The guy on the right looked strong enough to bench press a semi truck, but he was acting way too nervous.

“Okay. Brace yourselves,” Cody ordered. “Here comes the Widow-maker.”

Busy keeping the raft away from submerged rocks, he only half saw his panicky client let go of the safety ropes, drop to the floor and curl into a fetal position.

“No! Get up! You’re throwing our balance off!”

The pliable raft’s pitch and yaw tossed the loose passenger around like a knot of dirty laundry in an overloaded washing machine. Cody strained to plot a safe course through the approaching cataracts. The trick was to be in the right place at the right time and let the river do the navigating. His biggest concern was how much deviation his passenger’s erratic behavior had already caused.

“Sit on the floor and stay there,” he roared. “Before you get us all killed.”

Cody’s muscles strained to master the treacherous river. His lungs labored, his body ached. Determination welded his cold, stiffening fingers to the oars. Squinting, he spotted a narrow, clear path ahead. Thank You, God.

Suddenly, the man he’d ordered to stay on the floor gave a strangled cry and thrust his head over the side. Cody had only two options: make a course correction and hope the water was high enough to skim submerged rocks, or press through narrows where the fool might be decapitated. He chose the rocks.

Blinding spray stung like tiny hailstones. Momentum lifted the raft high on the left side, depressing the right till it was pushed underwater, sick man and all. Helpless to do more, Cody watched his passenger wash over the side. Then, to his enormous relief, he noticed the man’s hand was fisted around the safety rope.

“Feet first!” Cody shouted. “Lead with your legs.”

Instead, the frightened man grabbed an oar shaft.