Chapter 2 - The Cut Rope
Mark dropped the phone onto the grass and caught the rope with both hands.
A sudden jerk burned through his palms.
"Lily, stay against the wall!"
His mother's eyes flickered toward the garden shed.
The rope led through the old pulley and around a second wheel hidden behind ivy, where a frayed section had been tied to a short, loose peg.
Another hard pull would release it.
Mark braced a foot against the stone rim and wrapped the rope around his forearm.
"Who rigged this?"
"Your grandfather built it," Margarethe said.
"That wasn't my question."
Sirens rose beyond the gate.
Margarethe went rigid.
"You called them?"
"Of course I called them."
Two firefighters entered with a rescue harness and portable ladder.
Captain Rosa Alvarez took one look inside the well and ordered Mark away from the edge.
"We'll get her. You talk to her."
Mark knelt as the crew secured a fresh line to the oak support beam and lowered a rescuer to Lily's ledge.
"Remember the song your mom used to sing?" he called down.
A tiny voice answered, "The moon one?"
"That's right. Hum it for me."
He kept speaking while the harness went around Lily's small shoulders.
Margarethe stood by the roses, holding her handbag against her stomach.
When Lily rose into daylight, Mark reached for her with shaking arms.
She clung to him so hard he could barely breathe.
"Grandma said nobody could know," she whispered.
Mark carried her toward the ambulance.
Then Captain Alvarez held up a severed rope end.
"Mr. Whitcomb, this didn't break from age. Somebody cut halfway through it recently."
Margarethe opened her mouth.
Mark lifted one hand without looking at her.
"Don't."
May you like
Lily pressed her dusty cheek to his neck.
"Daddy," she murmured, "Grandma wasn't the only person down there."
