Trust Me - Sheryl Browne Page 0,20

stir.

‘Tash?’ he tried again, then, ‘Dammit!’ He swiped at the droplets of sweat on his forehead and looked up to the heavens.

He seemed indecisive, and Emily guessed he was weighing the risk of tilting her head back, possibly causing further damage to her spine, against losing her to drowning. Please God, no. Her heart banging against her ribcage, she prayed hard as she watched him listen over Natasha’s mouth for breaths. A turmoil of emotion twisted inside her as he moved his attention to her chest: guilt threatening to rise up and choke her; fear; jealousy. She’d felt something close to hatred as she’d witnessed the woman ogling her husband, but she hadn’t wished her dead. She hadn’t.

Had she? She swallowed hard. Her mother was right. She was evil. She heard it distinctly, her mother’s hissed condemnation as she’d lain alone in her room, dark shadows flitting in and out of her dreams as the days after Kara’s death drifted into nights, into days … ‘She’s a monster.’

That part came back to her with blinding clarity. She hadn’t remembered any of it until now. She’d buried it along with her sister. Hadn’t wanted to acknowledge how bitterly her parents had wished it was her they’d lost and not Kara.

‘She’s not breathing,’ Jake said tightly, snatching her attention back to this day, this riverbank and another death she might be responsible for. Terrified, she watched as he used his fingers to gently clear Natasha’s airway. He was pinching her nose, placing his mouth over hers, breathing slowly into it. Pausing. Assessing. Sucking air deep into his own lungs. Breathing. Rescue breaths. The kiss of life.

He was desperate not to lose her. Emily’s fingers strayed to her own lips. She was desperate not to lose him, her husband, the one solid thing in her life, the one person who knew her and loved her. But he didn’t know her, not all of her – he didn’t know why the ghost of her sister haunted her dreams. She didn’t know him fully either, each minuscule detail that had made him the man he was, or the deceit he might be capable of. She didn’t know whether he loved her. Her heart boomed another echo of her past. He’d been looking for a distraction, possibly attempting to move on. He might have done if she hadn’t called him from outside the bar that long-ago night and lied to him, telling him she’d been nervous about committing fully to another relationship after being treated badly by a man. She’d never told him how badly. How could she? The truth would surely have driven him away, and she’d needed him. She loved him – then and now. He’d taught her what love really was. She couldn’t have told him the whole truth and expected him to stay.

He had stayed. When they’d talked the next day and she’d told him she was pregnant – she’d decided she would keep the baby; she’d had to – he’d walked her home, his mood quiet, contemplative. Tentatively he’d kissed her goodbye, saying he would call her in the morning. She hadn’t been sure he would. An hour later, there’d been a knock on the door of her bedsit, and she’d answered it to find him standing nervously on the doorstep holding a small velvet box. ‘It wasn’t an expensive one,’ he’d said awkwardly, seeming not to notice her old pyjamas and cried-off make-up. ‘We can change it. As soon as I’m qualified, we can choose any ring you want, but for now, will you accept this one? Will you marry me?’

The box contained his mother’s engagement ring. She still wore it. Had he proposed because he loved her, or had he stepped up to do the right thing? Had she forced him to?

Now, standing stock still, too scared to speak or move as she heard hushed whispers around her, sensed fingers pointing accusingly at her, she continued to watch as Jake positioned his hands over Natasha, ready to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation. He’d done two compressions when she gasped, her eyes springing wide as she spewed out a breath.

Jake moved fast, yelling at the men who’d assisted him in the water to help roll her onto her side, keeping her spine aligned as they did. ‘Try not to move. You’ll be okay. The ambulance is on its way,’ he said, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, his face close to hers.

Someone offered sheets hastily retrieved from tables, which Jake indicated