Chapter 47

Iris

Seeing my son, soaking wet and clutching a fallen tree for dear life, sends such a feeling of horror through me that I move without even thinking.

“Miles, hang on!” I scream, kicking off my heels and rushing forward. “I’m coming!”

Miles sobs, his arms tightening around the tree. It’s just barely wedged sideways between the walls of the flume, mere inches above the rushing water. Without the rain, this flume would be a small stream, hardly more than a trickle. But now, it’s death waiting to happen.

But before I can do something insane and jump in, Arthur grabs my arm and pulls me back, shaking his head. He’s already stripping off his tuxedo jacket. “That tree could come loose!” he calls over the rain. “We have to be careful, otherwise Miles could drown!”

My throat bobs, my heart pounding faster than ever. I’m frozen, caught between the instinct to jump into those raging rapids and trusting a man who I haven’t known for the last five years.

But Arthur meets my gaze, his green eyes sure and steady, and I know I can trust him. I always could. Finally, I nod, and he shoves his jacket into my hands and moves toward the flume.

“Miles!” he calls, leaning over the edge. “Buddy, can you scooch toward me at all?”

Miles shakes his head, clearly terrified. “No! It’s too scawy!” he cries out, and the sound of his speech impediment slipping out due to his fear makes my heart break all over again.

“Okay, just hang on!” Arthur replies. “Don’t let go!”

“I-I won’t!”

Arthur turns, his eyes rapidly scanning the surrounding area. He spots something beneath a tree and rushes over. I watch, clutching his jacket to my chest, as he picks up a long fallen tree branch. He tests it, bending it over his knee to check its sturdiness, then nods and hurries back to the flume.

Slowly, Arthur extends the branch down to Miles. But even with Arthur leaning precariously over the concrete wall, the branch is still a couple of feet away from Miles, who is clinging in terror to the fallen tree and refusing to move.

“Miles, you have to try to scooch forward and grab the branch!” Arthur says, leaning a little further forward.

But Miles shakes his head in horror, gripping the tree even tighter.

I lean forward then, trying my best to offer what I can only hope is an encouraging smile and yet it just feels like a painful grimace. “Honey, you have to be brave! If you grab the branch, we’ll pull you out!”

“B-But—”

“Please be brave for us!” I cry, hardly able to hide the tremor in my voice.

Arthur nods. “I know how brave you are, bud! Just the other day, I heard you hung upside down from the monkey bars on the playground! This is way easier than that!”

Miles blinks, his face twisted with fear, but our words seem to have an impact. Slowly, he begins to inch forward on the fallen tree, scooching along on his belly.

“You’re doing great,” Arthur says, leaning forward a little further to get the branch closer. “Keep going just like that! Nice and slow!”

As Miles moves forward, Arthur leans over even more. I grab his hips to steady him so he doesn’t fall in. He mutters a thanks, and together, we clench our teeth and strain toward Miles.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Miles shakily swats one hand toward the branch. But then the tree begins to shift, and Miles screams, gripping it again. I scream, too.

“Try again!” Arthur calls out, waving the branch closer to Miles.

Miles looks terrified, but obeys. He reaches for the branch, and to my relief, his small fingers wrap around it. But we’re not in the clear yet. The tree quivers a little more with the movement, one side slipping down further toward the water. Miles freezes, one hand clutching the branch while the other arm is still wrapped around the fallen tree.

“Now the other hand!” Arthur guides him, offering him a smile. Not a grimace or a mask, but a real, genuine, encouraging smile. I don’t know how he does it, but somehow, it makes me slightly calmer, too.

But then the tree shudders again, the one side slipping entirely. A scream tears from my throat as it falls into the water, rushing away down the flume, and yet…

Miles is hanging onto the branch with both hands, his little legs dangling in the air.

“Hang on!” Arthur says, slowly pulling the branch up. Once he’s not leaning precariously anymore, I grab the branch too, helping him haul Miles up. It’s slow and painstaking, inch by agonizing inch, but finally, Miles is close enough to touch.

Arthur reaches over and grabs Miles by one arm, hauling him the rest of the way over the wall. And together, the three of us fall to the ground, Arthur and I collapsing to our knees with Miles’ crying form sandwiched between us. I cup Miles’ head to my chest, rocking him, my sobs lost amongst the rain. Arthur’s face is pale, but his green eyes are bright, and his arms are warm and sturdy as they wrap around both of us.

I’m not sure how long we stay there like that, holding each other. All I know is that soon, flashlights illuminate the surrounding area as the police and Ezra arrive. Arthur holds Miles tightly as he rises, helping me to my feet as well.

But just as we’re about to leave, Miles points to a nearby park trash can. “Wait! We can’t leave the kitty!” he says.

Arthur and I frown, turning toward the trash can. If I strain, I can hear what does indeed sound like the tiny mews of a kitten echoing inside.

Without a word, Arthur strides over and reaches into the trash can, pulling out a small, soaking wet orange tabby kitten. He holds it up by the scruff of its neck for a moment, and all of us—the police and Ezra included—stare, dumbfounded.

Miles grins, holding his hands out. “Can I keep it?” he asks, looking at me inquisitively. “Please!”

My shoulders slump as I realize that tonight’s horrors started over a kitten. But of course I’m not going to say no now. I’d give Miles the sun and the moon and all the stars right now if he asked. So I nod, and Arthur hands the kitten to Miles.

A little while later, Arthur and I are standing over the guest bed. Miles is fast asleep, his kitten curled up against his chest, also sleeping peacefully. According to Miles, he saw the kitten through Augustine’s window and went after it, then fell in the flume. It still feels surreal, knowing that that’s the reason why all of this started.

Finishing his examination, the doctor hooks his stethoscope back around his neck and stands.

“He must have a lot of strength for a little human, to hang on like that in the pouring rain,” the doctor says with a small smile. “He should be okay, but I’m going to prescribe some antibiotics just in case of pneumonia. Keep him in bed for a couple of days and give him lots of warm broth.”

I nod, clutching the pearls that I’m still wearing around my throat as the doctor leaves. I’m warm now, wearing dry clothes with my hair in a towel, but I’m still shivering from the whole ordeal. Arthur dried off as well, and for the first time, that one stray lock of hair is curling across his forehead as he stares down at Miles.

Once we’re alone, I turn to Arthur. My throat works uselessly for a moment as I try to come up with something to say. Finally, I manage, “Thank you. For your help. If you hadn’t been there, I might have jumped in during my panic and both of us would have drowned.”

Arthur glances up at me, and there’s a tiredness in his eyes that softens me in ways I can’t begin to describe.

“I’m a father,” he simply says, turning to leave. “It’s my job.”

I watch him go, touched more deeply by his actions and words than I’ve ever felt. And for the first time, I can’t help but begin to wonder what our future could look like if I let Arthur be the father he was so clearly meant to be—if I remained in Ordan after all.