Diamond Bay Read Online Free PDF

this far; she'd get him in the house, one way or another. Bending, she
began tugging again.
    He hadn't made a sound since that one groan on the beach, not even
when they pulled him across exposed roots or the loose rocks on the dirt road. Rachel let the quilt drop and bent over him again, crouching on the cool, damp grass beside him. He was still breathing; after what she'd put him through, she
didn't suppose she could ask for anything more. She stared at the two steps
again, a frown puckering her forehead. She needed a conveyor belt to get him up
those steps. A growing sense of urgency gnawed at her. Not only did he need
attention, but the sooner she got him hidden inside, the better. She was
isolated out here at Diamond Bay, so chance visitors weren't likely, but anyone
who came looking for the man wouldn't be a chance visitor. Until he was
conscious, until she knew more about what was going on, she had to hide him.
    The only way she had of getting him up the steps was to catch him
under the arms and pull him up them, just as she'd pulled him out of the sea.
Joe couldn't help now. She would have to lift the man's head, shoulders and
chest – the heaviest part of his body.
    She'd gotten her wind back, and sitting there in the grass wasn't
going to get anything accomplished. But she was so tired, as if her legs and
arms were weighted down with lead; they were sluggish, and she staggered a
little when she climbed to her feet. Gently she wrapped the quilt around the man,
then positioned herself behind him and slid her hands under his shoulders.
Straining, fighting for every bit of leverage, she raised him to a half-sitting
position, then quickly propped him up on her legs. He started to fall over, and
with a cry Rachel caught him around the chest, looping her arms tightly and
locking her hands together. His head fell forward, as limply as a newborn's.
Joe worried at her side, growling when he couldn't find a place to catch hold
of the quilt.
    "It's all right," she panted. "I've got to do it
this way now." She wondered if she was talking to the dog or the man.
Either was ridiculous, but both seemed important.
    The steps were at her back. Keeping her legs under her and her
hands tightly locked around the man's chest, Rachel thrust herself backward;
her bottom landed on the first step with a jarring thud, and the edge of the
top step scraped a raw strip down her back, but she'd managed to lift the man a
little. Hot pain seared her back and legs from the strain she was putting on her
muscles. "Oh, God," she whispered, "I can't collapse now. In a
little while I'll rest, but not now."
    Grinding her teeth, she got her feet under her again, using the
stronger muscles of her thighs rather than her more vulnerable back muscles.
Once more she lunged up and back, pushing with her legs, hauling the man up
with her. She was sitting on the top step now, and tears of pain and effort
were stinging her eyes. The man's torso was on the steps, his legs still out in
the yard, but if she could get his upper body on the porch the rest would be
easy. She had to do the agonizing maneuver one more time.
    She didn't know how she did it, where she found the strength. She
gathered, lunged, pushed. Suddenly her feet went out from under her and she
fell heavily on her back on the wooden porch, the man lying on her legs.
Stunned, she lay there for a moment, staring up at the yellow porch light with
the tiny bugs swarming around it. She could feel her heart pounding wildly
inside her rib cage, hear the wheezing sobs as she tried to suck enough oxygen
into her lungs to meet the demand being made by overworked muscles. His weight
was crushing her legs. But she was lying full-length on the porch, so if he was
lying on her legs, that meant she'd done it. She'd gotten him up the steps!
    Groaning, crying, she pushed herself into a sitting position,
though she thought the planks beneath her made a wonderful bed. It took her a moment to struggle
from beneath his