“Down here,” she shouted. “Renee’s caught in the rope. The deck gave way.”
Relief flooded through him on hearing his wife’s voice. When he reached the deck, he tested its surface with one foot. It felt solid and he stepped on, leaning forward to peer in. Several boards were broken near the entrance. A crushed bucket was wedged against a pulley system, its thick rope disappearing below. What he didn’t expect to see was Remi’s friend hanging from that rope, stretched out between it and the ladder like a trapeze artist caught mid-performance.
“LaBelle,” Hank shouted, running toward the deck.
Sam held his hand up. “Stop. I’m not sure how much weight it’ll support.”
Hank halted at the edge. “Is she okay?”
“So far. Do you have any rope?”
He nodded.
“Bring it here.”
Hank ran to his car, unzipped a thick canvas duffel bag in the back, and returned with a rope, which he tossed to Sam. “What can I do?”
“Park your car as close to the deck as you can,” Sam said, unwinding the long coil, fashioning a harness.
Hank did as he asked, then joined Sam. “Can’t we just pull her up with the rope from the pulley?”
“This is safer,” Sam said, not wasting time to explain the hazards of such an idea. The rope wrapped around her leg, the damage to the scaffolding, the precarious anchoring of the ladder to it—never mind if any of it fell during their rescue attempt—it all put Remi in danger.
He anchored the rope to the tow hook beneath the car’s front bumper, slid into the harness, and edged his way toward the opening. The A-frame over the deck that held the pulley had collapsed. Fortunately, a deck beam and the aluminum ladder remained intact, both strong enough to have stopped the bucket wedged between them while still holding the weight of Renee LaBelle. “Remi, move back. I’m coming down.”
He lowered himself into the chamber, bringing himself level to Renee, noting a trickle of red blood in the hairline above her forehead. “Anything broken?”
“Not unless you count my pride.”
“You think you can grab on to my shoulders and hold on piggyback all the way up?”
“No question.”
Sam gripped her wrist as she reached across his back with one arm, wrapping tight, before letting loose of the scaffold. He glanced down, saw Remi off to the side, watching.
She gave him a look of relief once he and Renee reached the top, then shouted up to Sam, “You are planning to come back for me?”
“Have I ever left you behind?”
“There was that time in . . .”
Sam waited until Hank had helped Renee from the deck before turning back around and looking down at his wife. “Never left you behind without a good excuse.”
“I’m sure you had a good reason.”
Sam stepped out of the harness and lowered the apparatus to his wife. She slipped into it and he pulled her up and out, helping her from the deck. “Remind me what that reason was again?” he asked, once she was on solid ground.
“The details are a bit fuzzy.”
“Conveniently fuzzy.”
She kissed him. “Why rehash old history?”
They walked arm in arm over to the car, where Renee was seated, examining her left ankle and calf, which looked swollen and bruised. She smiled at Remi. “Twice in one day. Guess there really is something to that curse.”
Hank hovered over her, asking, “Are you sure we shouldn’t get you to the hospital?”
“I’m fine. I hit my head on the ladder. It’s already stopped bleeding. Remi, tell him I’m fine.”
Remi took a closer look at her friend’s head. “I think you might need a couple of stitches. When’s the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“I have no idea. And what about lunch? We were all supposed to sit down together and go over the books.”
“The books can wait,” Remi said.
“I agree, Mrs. Fargo.” Hank turned a stern eye toward Renee. “You’re going to the hospital, LaBelle. We can all have a good laugh over how you ended up where you did once they patch you up.”
Hank drove Renee, while Sam and Remi followed in their rental car. About fifteen minutes after they arrived at the hospital, a young woman with long dark hair raced into the lobby, looked around, and made a beeline to Renee. “Dr. LaBelle.”
Renee smiled. “Amal, you didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“I had to see if you were okay,” she said, slightly out of breath.
“I’m fine. Probably just a sprain.”
“Or a break,” Hank said, “we can’t verify until X-rays.”
Amal clasped Renee’s hand, then let go as she seemed to notice Sam and Remi for the first time. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo. Sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I’m Amal.”
“A pleasure to finally meet in person,” Remi said. “We thought we saw you out giving a tour earlier.”
Amal seemed taken aback. “No. That wasn’t me.”
“My mistake,” Remi said. “Anyway, we’re so glad you’ve agreed to come out to the school.”
“It’s all very exciting, if not overwhelming.” She turned toward Sam, smiling at him as she reached out to shake his hand. The moment their fingers touched, she jerked back, then suddenly clasped her throat, looking as though she couldn’t breathe.
CHAPTER SIX
A friend is one who knows everything about you and still wants to be your friend.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Shouldn’t we call for a doctor?” Remi asked as Hank led Amal to the chair next to Renee.
“She’ll be fine,” Hank said, patting her hand.
Renee nodded. “Poor thing has panic attacks. Just needs to catch her breath.”
If Amal heard them, she gave no indication. Her dark eyes held a vacant stare as she muttered something under her breath that sounded like “Sat-er . . . Sat-er . . .”
Remi looked at Hank, then Renee, noting both seemed very calm over the whole thing. “You’re sure she’s okay?”
“I promise,” Renee said. “Give her a minute. She tends to drift off and utter odd words. The French and English I get, since those are the languages she grew up with. It’s the Latin and Greek that are somewhat surprising.”