~ A Daddy For Danny ~

by

Mary Kate Brogan

“Danny. Danny.” When he didn’t answer, she called again, “Danny. Danny.” She heard nothing but the rustle of leaves, and the howl of the wind.

“Danny, where are you?” She ran to the back of the little house, her gaze probing the darkness. “Danny?” A bolt of lightning zigzagged over the lake, illuminating the water. Fear crawled along her skin. “Danny!” Her throat felt raw.

Her gaze flew to the big house and she let out a long breath. Of course. He’d gone to visit Roland. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Thunder erupted in successive bursts that rocked the ground beneath her. She sped toward the big house. The back door opened before she could ring the buzzer.

Roland stood in the doorway. “Jenny.”

She craned her neck to see past him. “Is Danny here?”

He frowned. “No.”

Cold dread swept over her. “I can’t find him. He was playing with that little dog. I...” She took an involuntary step backward, recoiling from the alarm in Roland’s eyes. “I’ve got to go look for him.”

“Did you search near the front of the house?”

“No, I didn’t. That big spruce tree... He likes to play there sometimes.”

“Come, let’s take a look.”

They hurried through the kitchen to the foyer. Roland flung the front door open, and the wind banged it against the wall. They hurried outside. “Danny,” they yelled in unison.

Jenny’s glance swept the deserted lawn. The giant spruce waved prickly branches up and down. “Danny, are you in there?” She ran after Roland.

Roland bent to look under the branches. “He’s not here.”

Her body quivered.

Roland took her arm. “Come, I’ll get a flashlight. We’ll go down to the lake.” In a moment, they were running past the coach house, the beam from Roland’s flashlight tunneling through the darkness. “Danny! The deep timbre of his voice melded with the wind. “Danny.”

Terrified, she raced after him, striving to keep up with his long-legged strides. By the time they reached the break wall, her lungs ached for air. Needles of rain stung her face. Her hands flew to cover her mouth when the light scaled the lake’s treacherous waters. Horrified, she watched the dark waves hurl themselves against the sand and a cluster of rocks.

She scrambled over the break wall onto the sand.

“You don’t think he’d actually go in the water?” Roland called.

“I don’t know. I don’t allow him to go near the water but he may have followed the dog down here.” With a sob, she raced toward the leaping waves, her arms outstretched. In her agitation, she walked into the water.

“What are you doing?” Roland shouted. “Come back here.”

She looked down at her feet and saw that the water reached her mid-calf.

Roland peered up and down the beach. “Danny! Danny!”

Fear sent bitter bile surging to her throat. She followed Roland along the hard sand toward the section of beach bordering Eglington Lodge. Suddenly, he drew to a halt. Something moved on the sand. “Spanky,” she cried. The dog ambled toward them, fur plastered to its small body, its tail between its legs. Her heart thumped painfully. Something had happened to Danny or else he would be here with the dog. She cried out, her sobs soundless in the soughing wind.

Roland held up a hand. “We need to listen in case he calls to us.”

“Roland, I’m so scared.” Her teeth clattered. The glare from the flashlight lit Roland’s strained features. She saw no hint of reassurance in the look he directed at her. Instead, she saw fear. His fear fed hers, frazzling her nerves until her legs felt like jelly.

He strode ahead, his body a dark silhouette against the tunnel of light while Spanky trotted after him.

As the wind wailed, and churned the dark water, Jenny thought she heard Danny cry. She froze, straining her ears to listen. Was it only the wind? Her shoulders slumped. This is what grief does. Weakens the mind until one can no longer separate fantasy from reality.

Roland motioned to her. “Jenny!”

She blinked rain from her lashes and broke into a run, keeping her eyes on the wavering light. Roland bent down as if to examine something. When he moved aside, she saw Danny. She stopped, paralyzed with fear. Her heart leapt with joy when she saw the child’s head move. He was alive. Dear God, he was alive. He was crouched awkwardly atop a cluster of rocks, his face pale, his dark eyes full of terror while the rain splashed down on him. In a flash, she reached him. “Danny, darling.”

“Mom!” he screamed. “Mom!”

She kissed and caressed his face, crouching over him in an effort to protect him from the rain.

“I c-can’t feel my leg, Mom. I’m scared.”

Nausea rose within her. Desperately, she fought for control. “You’ll be okay, lovey.”

Roland pushed the flashlight into her hand. “Hold this,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Be ready to free his leg when I tell you.” His arm and shoulder muscles bunching, he pushed on the rock while Danny looked up at him with large, trusting eyes.

Jenny could see now that one of Danny’s legs was bent at the knee and wedged in between two rocks. When she saw the blood and the ugly gash above his knee, her hand shook and the flashlight crashed to the ground.

“Get that light and prop it against the rock so you can see,” Roland commanded, his voice strained from exertion.

She did as he asked.