The Blind by Shelley Coriell Page B

artist, but I knew what she meant. That part of the river was beautiful when the sun came out.” And deadly. His eyelids closed.
    “And being the doting older brother, you said yes?”
    “Being the doting older brother, I said, No .” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “Technically, I said, Hell no . The road to the river was covered in ice. It was too dangerous, especially in my old, beat-up pickup truck with shoddy tires. So I took her up Welton’s Hill, one of the highest spots in town where she could see the river below. For an hour I ate ice cream while she sketched fire on ice. She looked so happy and content, I wish we could have stayed there for hours. But the wind picked up and we had to pack up. We got back in the truck and started down the hill. On the first turn the tires lost traction, and we skidded toward the shoulder. Those few hours of sun followed by the cold wind had turned the road into a solid sheet of ice.
    “I corrected, but we slid farther and faster. I had no control.” The memory still had the power to ice his veins. “We careened off the road and plunged into the river. Water and debris rushed below the icy surface, pounding the truck. I yanked on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I got the window down and climbed out, expecting Abby to follow, but she couldn’t move. It was like she was frozen. I grabbed her and got us both out of the truck.
    “The cold, it was shocking. And the sounds.” Echoes of the past pounded his ears. “The water was a freight train. Sheets of ice moaned and cracked. My hands got so cold, so quick, I lost hold of Abby. The current pulled her to the back of the truck, where she was able to grab the tailgate. I went after her. It was surreal. Her hair swirling about her, her hand reaching out to mine, her mouth frozen in a scream I couldn’t hear.”
    Evie slipped her hand into his. Warm. Soft.
    “I caught her hand. The current pulled, but I hung on. At that point, someone from the surface grabbed my legs and yanked. Abby slipped out of my fingers. I kicked the hell out of whoever was pulling me and lunged for my sister and caught this.” His fingers curled around the sun pendant. “And I never let go. Even when Abby stopped kicking, even when those last few bubbles of air trickled out, and even when I saw the light go out from her eyes, I never let go.”
    When he was working the final hours of a deal, when he was bone tired and had given everything he thought he had to give, he always managed to find a place with more. More insight, more energy, more will. He sought that place now. “Now there were two people at the surface pulling on my legs. The chain snapped. I tried to go after Abby, but the rescuers pulled me back. I watched as she floated away, limp and lifeless.” He brought the fisted pendant to his lips. “And I never let go.”
    “I’m so sorry, Jack, so, so sorry.”A long, thready breath rushed from Evie’s mouth.
    “Me too.” Jack set the sun on the dash. Even without the metal touching his palm, he felt the heat. That sun, that moment, had been branded into his flesh. “By the time the rescuers got me out, police and search crews were at the scene. They wouldn’t let me go back in for Abby’s body, not that I could have done much. Hypothermia had set in. I was dropping in and out of consciousness, but I had to give them credit. For hours police, firefighters, friends, neighbors, and strangers searched for Abby. They sent divers into the screaming waters. They walked up and down the shore and checked every crevice and soft spot that had formed in the ice, searching for her body. Even when darkness came, they searched. Her body was never found, and she was presumed dead. In my mind, there was no presumption. I saw the light go out of her eyes. She was dead.”
    The pronouncement brought him no peace. “Four days later we had a funeral and said our good-byes. Our mom took comfort that Abby was in a place with more light.” The