Authors: Amanda Carpenter
side to side, shrieking in terror.
'Oh, God, Sian, I—I think I'm going to be sick!'
Sian's initial shock faded in a wave of adrenalin. She rounded on her
friend and snapped coldly, 'Stop that! You're frightening the other
children.'
She had never used that tone of voice with Jane before, not even in
her worst temper, and the other girl stiffened, shocked out of her
internal reaction. 'Listen to me,' Sian said, her gaze hard and clear on
the blonde's face. 'It's obvious he can't climb down by himself and,
the way the poor brat's got himself twisted, he's going to fall if he
doesn't stop panicking.'
'Call the fire department!' cried one of the children.
'Even if you could find a phone, it wouldn't do any good,' Sian said.
Her own face was rigid with enforced calm. 'They can't get their
equipment this far back into the woods. Someone's got to bring him
down. Where are your parents?'
The first girl who had hailed them said, wiping her tear-stained face,
'Back at the picnic site, that way.'
She pointed in the direction Sian and Jane had been heading. Sian
nodded and said grimly, 'Go tell them what's happened. Now.'
She did not shout; she wouldn't have anyway, not in their state, but
all four bolted as if they were fleeing from the wrath of God, and, at
the sight of his friends disappearing, the boy at the top of the tree
sobbed even harder.
'Hey!' Sian shouted, forcing a no-nonsense tone into her voice.
'Why's a big lad like you crying like that! You think that's high? I
used to climb twice as high as that when I was half your size! Now,
quit your snivelling and keep a firm grip, and we'll have you down
before you know it!'
Jane was a shaken mess beside her, but at least she wasn't having
hysterics. Sian said to her in a quiet undertone, 'The branches are too
thin where he's stuck. Do you understand? Only someone small and
light can climb that high. But it's obvious you can't do it, so there's
only me. I'm going to try to get his shirt unstuck, but I don't think he
can climb down on his own—he's far too frightened, and I'm not
strong enough to carry him. Janey, we need help.'
Jane's eyes clung to her as she talked, and she was thankful to see
that some rationality had crept into the other girl's huge eyes. 'Oh,
Sian, be careful, for God's sake! If the branches are breaking under
his
weight -'
'Don't fall to pieces on me now!' snapped Sian. 'Just get help—and
hurry!'
Jane stole one last look, shuddered and ran. Sian, too, turned to stare
up at what had suddenly become an immeasurable, impossible
distance and wished she could think of some other alternative. But.
there wasn't any and she knew it, so, before she lost her nerve, she
gritted her teeth and started to climb.
The first half was easy; she could see how seductive the prank would
be to the mind of a mischievous boy, and how foolishly he had let his
self-confidence convince him that he could go higher than he should
have. As soon as he sensed that help was on its way, he began to cry
again in a mixture that she suspected was part renewed fear and part
relief.
'What's your name?' she asked, selecting her next branch with cold
logical care and taking another step up. Her wet bare feet were drying
quickly and finding purchase on the rough bark, though she knew she
would have bruises afterwards on the soft skin of her inner sole.
There was a break in the outburst, then he said with a gulp, 'Barry.'
'Well, Barry, my name's Sian. S-i-a-n. That's Welsh for Jane, which
is my friend's name as well. My mother came from Wales—it's a
place, you know, not a big fish,' she told him conversationally; then
paused. Sure enough, he had forgotten enough of his panic to
produce a rather hollow chuckle, and she smiled wryly and
continued, 'I know a story about a Welshman who thought he could
fly. Would you like to hear it?'
'O-OK, sure.'
And so she began, and, as she talked to keep him calm and her mind
off the very real danger of what she was doing, she was already
reaching up for another branch.
SIAN had a vivid memory of when she was a very small child, not
quite two years old, in which her mother, still living then, was a large
shadowy figure. Her parents were already separated at that time, and
once when Devin had come to visit his daughter she had run to him
with arms outstretched.
He had swung her up into his strong arms, her big handsome father,
and the world had reeled giddily about her as she chortled with
delight. Then he had tossed her into the air and her bright
uncontainable joy had immediately turned to fright as everything
solid and secure had fallen away and she was left for one
immeasurable instant suspended in mid-air.
The moment had passed too quickly for her to even cry out. Gravity
had claimed her tiny body, and she fell, and her father caught her
close into a great hug, and everything settled again into how it should
be. But Sian had never forgotten that pure terror as she began to
tumble helplessly back to the ground.
She had a mental flashback of it that broke her into a cold sweat as
she rested, panting, for a few seconds and surveyed her position.
Time had slowed and there was nothing but the present, and the quiet
sound of leaves rustling. She had discovered another hazard in her
climb, which was the slippery sun lotion that coated her body and
made her confidence of her grip very shaky. Her arms were
beginning to ache from the tight clench she maintained, but no hint of
her fear filtered into her calm, even voice as she talked to the boy and
listened for his occasional high treble of a reply.
She had reached the thinner branches and picked her way with
extreme care, testing their strength before trusting her weight to
them, and at each creak and sway her breath stopped in her throat and
she froze before continuing to inch upwards.
It could not have been more than five minutes before the quiet
surrounding the two in the tree was broken by the noisy approach of
people. Sian risked a glance down. She could see in the group
hurrying from the picnic site the same reactions that she and Jane had
had, the shock of hesitation as they took in the scene, and the various
positions of fright. Oh, lord, she thought in resignation, not a fit and
athletic man among the lot of them.
A woman cried out in a high voice, and Barry started to sob again,
quietly.
'Is that your mom? Not to worry,' said Sian, tilting back her head. She
Was at a level with one dirty sneaker, and it seemed very small and
vulnerable as it dangled in front of her eyes. 'I bet she has a fit if you
cross the street, doesn't she?'
'She's gonna kill me!' the boy burst out. Sian had room inside her for
one breathless chuckle.
Preoccupied with soothing the child, trying to ignore the panic below
her, Sian was unaware of another's approach to the scene. The man
sprinted, full out, with powerful distance-eating strides as swift at the
end of the half-mile as when he'd begun, a gold and tawny figure
spearing through the shallow water which cascaded from the force of
his urgent passage into sparkling diamonds.
His intent expression did not change when he saw the trapped boy
and Sian's slim body underneath, taut with striving feline grace,
seemingly suspended at the top of the tree by insubstantial green
fronds and a prayer. But his hazel eyes undertook a sharp dilation,
and his chest moved hard, where before the headlong dash had barely
quickened his heartbeat.
Then Sian heard the sound of another voice from the ground, deep
and firm and commanding, and her knees went to water in an intense
flood of relief as she recognised Matt taking charge of the threatening
pandemonium. He had been amazingly fast; Jane had to have raced
back to the camp as if all the hounds of hell were snapping at her
heels.
He must have summed up the situation at a glance, for, without any
of the horrified hesitation that had frozen the others, he called
quietly, 'I'm coming up, Sian. Don't try to free him until I'm
underneath you.'
'OK,' she said, and breathlessly waited as he swarmed up the tree
with athletic ease. She risked a peek over her shoulder. He had
stopped when the branches started to groan protestingly under his
greater weight, and his serious upturned face was about ten feet
below her.
Their eyes met: fatalistic, almond-shaped green and fierce hazel. Ten
feet might as well have been an eternity. His expression was terrible
and she closed her eyes to it. Sian heard the creak of another branch.
'Don't come any further.' Her tone was bloodless with terror. Another
creaking, and Sian shuddered as if she'd been axed. 'For God's sake,
Matthew!'
'Never mind about me,' Matt said with ruthless calm. 'Be very careful
now. Can you hook your legs around the next branch and reach high
enough to free him?'
'I can try.' She eased forward with infinite caution, her tired muscles
aching in protest, and swallowed hard against vertigo as the wind
sent the overburdened tree- top swaying in an exaggerated arc. Then,
after wrapping her legs tight around the fearfully slim trunk, she ran
questing fingers up the boy's small back, straining upwards as far as
she could. As soon as she had a firm grip on his T-shirt, she said
gently, 'Right, Barry. I'm going to pull you loose. I want you to hold
on as tight as you can. Don't panic if you feel a tug, because I've got
you. Understand?'
'Y-yes.'
She gritted her teeth and tugged, and the T-shirt tore off the jagged
edge it had been caught on. The boy screamed as he heard the
material rip and he twisted like an feel to clutch, not at the trunk as
she'd told him to, but at her hand.
She could feel it coming the split second before it happened. With the
violent shift of his body, the boy lost his perch. She had no time to do
more than to snake her hand around his wrist in a death clench before
he went tumbling past her.
Then Sian screamed as well, as her torso was yanked backwards and
both the boy and her back and shoulders slammed with stunning
force against the trunk.
She hit her head and nearly blacked out. For one horrible moment she
was afraid that the strength in her locked legs would give out, that
they would both fall, tumbling head over heels to their deaths. Dizzy
and sickened, with pain shooting up from her arm and shoulder, she
hung upside-down and maintained her clutch on the boy's wrist with
all her might.
'Dear God in heaven!' Matt's exclamation was shaken.
Tears streamed from her eyes and blinded her, for the boy's weight
was too much. Her intake of breath was a tortured rasp. 'Help me!'
'Oh, darling—just hold on. I can almost reach him. Sian, for the love
of God, don't slip now. Nearly there -'
A long, low moan broke from her lips as her entire body shook with
the stress. Her torso was stretched in an intolerable bow, the tendons
of her arm standing out like the strings of a violin keening. Then the
weight eased, and Matt breathed, 'Got him. Let go!'
Her fingers slipped away strengthlessly. Tilting her head back, she
watched with blurred, upside-down vision as he slung the boy on to
his broad back, where Barry clung like a monkey. Matt looked up at
her. The fear and tension had tautened the bones of his face into
sharp angles before he started to dissolve into a white haze. All right
now. Let go. Her lips parted in a sigh, and her dusky eyelashes
fluttered.
'Sian!' Her name was a violent roar, and startled her alert. 'Don't
faint! I'm going to hand him down to his mother and be right back.
Don't move an inch—do you hear? Answer me!'
'I hear you,' she whispered, through the pounding in her head. She
hurt all over, though, and shock was making her so dizzy. It would be
terribly easy to just sleep... she started to drift away on a spinning
cloud...
Until the warm, hard reality of Matt's hand eased underneath her
abraded shoulders. He lifted her head and laid it gently in the hollow
of his corded neck and shoulder, then slid his arm up and around her
torso. 'There now, I've got you,' he soothed. 'You're safe. Try to put