coming, Gertrude. Keep swimming. I’m almost there.”
I inched toward the struggling girl praying that the ice would hold my weight. Not wanting to get too close, I stopped about three feet from the hole and I threw the end of my coat toward it.
“Grab my coat, Gertrude!” I cried. “Grab my coat!”
As the little girl snatched the end of my coat, the weight of her pulled me toward the hole. The ice creaked and then stopped. I pulled my coat toward me and held my breath. The ice creaked again, but I could see that Gertrude had her elbows on the ice. A bald eagle circled silently above us.
“Hang on, Gertrude, and I’ll pull you out.”
“It’s hard!” the little girl cried. “My hands hurt and I can’t feel my legs!”
“Just hold on and everything will be all right.” I tried to sound convincing and keep the worry from my voice.
“Hold on, Gertie!” her brother shouted encouragement from the river’s edge. “She’ll get you out.”
It seemed to help. I could feel the coat draw taut as I slowly drew the little girl toward me. I inched backward painfully slow, trying to keep my weight evenly distributed, while pulling Gertrude from the water. When her legs and feet finally surfaced, I dragged her as quickly as I could to me. Her lips were blue and she was shivering uncontrollably. I wrapped her in my coat and pulled her tightly to my chest. I crawled back to the edge of the river and safety, on my knees.
“I want my mama!” Gertrude whimpered, her breathing shallow. I stood up with Edward’s helping hand.
“We’re going to get your mother right now, Gertie,” I said, starting to walk up the hill toward the path. I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of wings flapping behind us. The bald eagle had landed next to the break in the ice.
“Don’t worry, Gertie,” Edward said, patting his sister’s back. “You’re going to be all right now.”
“Edward’s right,” I said. “He’s going to see that you have warm clothes, a fire, and warm milk waiting for you.” I nodded to Edward, who immediately dashed back toward the house. I followed him as fast as I could.
“C-c-c-cold,” the child whispered, becoming lethargic and heavy in my arms.
“We’ll be home soon,” I said. I too was starting to feel the effects of the cold. I wasn’t wearing a coat and while I was crawling across the ice my gloves and clothes had gotten wet. My back ached, my ears and cheeks burned, and I too was losing feeling in my hands and feet. I’d only gone up the hill and a few yards along the path when I heard adult voices approaching. I kept moving.
A woman cried, “Gertie! My baby!”
“Mama,” Gertie barely whispered.
“See,” Edward said. “I told you Miss Davish rescued Gertie.”
“What on earth were you doing?” a man’s voice yelled.
“Father,” Mrs. Reynard said as Henry Starrett came into view. I’d thought his comment was directed at the children until I heard the tone Adella used. Henry Starrett was speaking to me.
“Silly woman,” Henry said sharply, “we might’ve had to rescue both of you.” I didn’t have the strength to remind him that that had been unnecessary.
Less than a minute later, Gertie was wrapped in dry blankets and lifted from me into her mother’s outstretched arms, while someone put a blanket around my shoulders. I took a step forward and stumbled. Captain Starrett and the butler, each lifting me by an arm, supported me as we walked back to the house. A small crowd had gathered with several well-wishers patting me on the back or shaking my hand. I flinched at the pain each encounter shot through my body.
“You’re a fool,” Captain Starrett said under his breath as Adella wept over her shivering child. “You could’ve gotten my granddaughter killed.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Captain,” I said, my teeth chattering. “She was drowning and I couldn’t think of what better to do.”
“You should’ve called for help and let one of us get her.”
“There wasn’t time. Besides, you would’ve been too heavy for the ice,” I said. “As it was, it barely supported me.” I said this last sentence nonchalantly but inside quaked at the thought of the ice breaking beneath me. The captain was right; I’d been impulsive. But I wasn’t going to admit that to him.
“Thank you, Miss Davish,” Adella said, approaching us, after Mrs. Becker whisked Gertrude into the house. “You’ve saved my daughter’s life. We will be forever grateful.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Reynard,” I said, not wanting to voice the doubts and fears I still had for the child’s recovery. “I’m only glad I was at hand and could help.”
The crowd slowly dispersed as we approached the house. Captain Starrett and the butler released their hold on me. In her shock, I heard Adella admonishing her son.
“Ned, I told you never to go near the river alone. Wait until your father hears about this.”
“Gertie’s okay,” Ned said, pleading. “Do you have to tell Father? I promise never to go near it again.”
“Come with me, Hattie,” Mrs. Cassidy said, walking toward the kitchen in the back of the house as the family went to the front door. Instead of following her, I hung back. I was shivering, filthy, and exhausted and had to get back to work.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cassidy, but I’m already late getting back,” I said. “They’re delivering the greenery today and Sir Arthur has more guests arriving this morning.”
“Come on, girl,” the older woman said as she physically led me into her warm kitchen. “You’ll catch your death if you don’t come in and warm up. I’ll make us a fresh pot of coffee.” She sat me down in front of the fire and left the room for a moment. When she returned, she had a man’s cloak and gloves.
“This is all I have, but you can wear them while we launder your own,” Mrs. Cassidy said, helping me put the cloak on. “You saved that girl, you know.” My whole body shook. My fingers and toes tingled and burned as I began to warm up. “You’re a hero, Miss Davish.”
“I’m no hero, Mrs. Cassidy. I did what anyone would have.” The cook shook her head as she handed me a cup of coffee.
“No, not everyone would’ve done what you did. It took real bravery to do what you did.”
“But I didn’t even think about it. I was acting on instinct.”
“Should’ve known you’d be so brave,” she said as if she hadn’t heard me. “People said you faced down a murderer after all.” I flinched at her reference to the murder of my previous employer.
“I’m not brave, Mrs. Cassidy. And I’m certainly no hero.” I looked down at myself. I was a mess. I was wearing a man’s coat, several sizes too big for me; my dress was filthy, wrinkled, and torn in several places. Even my new rubber boots were covered with ice, mud, and grime. I touched my head and could only imagine the state of my
