Saving him 1
Anna Marrin wiped the last bit of flour from her hands and let out a tired but satisfied sigh as she stepped out of Mrs. Harper’s kitchen.
She wore a plain, slightly worn jacket and skirt and was tall and slender, with her black hair pulled back, revealing half of her face and delicate profile.
The sun was already dipping low and her basket felt much lighter now since every slice of the cinnamon roll cake she had baked that morning had sold out in the weekly market and the money tucked safely in the small pouch around her waist would be enough for groceries, new shoes for Lily, and maybe even a little meat for the week and a jar of honey as a treat.
“God bless you, Anna!” Mrs. Harper called after her. “That cake was heaven itself!”
Anna smiled to herself as she walked the familiar dirt path toward home.
The Marrin family residence was located in a residential alley in the west of the little town of Willow where houses were crowded closely together.
The last golden rays of sunset stretched accross the sky, turning the fields around the town into soft shades of amber and rose.
Most people were already inside, lamps growing warmly through windows. The path she took was a shortcut behind the old mango grove which was narrow, lined with tall grass and wildflowers. Not many people used this road after dark, but Anna knew every twist and root and the first fireflies were beginning to blink in the growing dusk.
Anna hummed an old hymn under her breath, her steps light despite the long day on her feet.
Then she saw him.
A man lay crumpled in the grass just off the trail, one arm stretched out awkwardly. Even in the fading light, Anna could see the dark, dried stain blooming across the left side of his shirt. It was blood.
Her heart lurched immediately.
She dropped the basket and hurried forward, dropping to her knees beside him. “Sir? Can you hear me?”
There was no answer.
His face was deathly pale beneath the dirt and stubble, his breathing shallow and ragged as she listened. He looked to be in his mid or late twenties, tall and broad-shouldered with dark hair clinging to his forehead from sweat and blood. His clothes were torn and dusty, as though he had stumbled a long way before collapsing.
Anna pressed trembling fingers to his neck and a felt a faint pulse beneath her touch.
For a moment, fear gripped her throat as she wondered what to do. She stared at him, finding him unfamiliar. ‘Who is he?’ She thought, ‘What violence brought him to our peaceful town?”
She looked around cautiously and saw no one else around. “I can’t just leave him here,” she muttered.
Then she looked back at him. “This wasn’t an accident. Finding him means he was meant to be saved. I can’t just abandon a dying man. It’ll weigh on my conscience.”
She tried to lift him, but he was far too heavy. Gritting her teeth, Anna hooked her arms under his shoulders and dragged him inch by inch back onto the path, her muscles burning with the effort.
She finally arrived at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson which was close to hers. They were the kind neighbors who had looked after Anna and her little sister ever since their parents died in a robbery a few months ago.
“Hold on,” she told the unconscious man between breaths. “Just hold on.”
By the time she reached the Thompsons’ back porch, sweat soaked her blouse and her arms shook. She pounded on the screen door with her foot.
“Mr. Thompson! Mrs. Thompson! It’s Anna… please help!”
The porch light flicked on. Mrs. Thompson, a plump woman with warm brown eyes and silver-streaked hair, opened the door and gasped.
“Heavens above! What on earth…?”
“There’s a man,” Anna panted. “I found him on the path behind the old mango grove. He’s been shot. He’s unconscious. We have to save him.”
Mr. Thompson appeared behind his wife, rolling up his sleeves. He had served as a medic in the army years ago and still kept a well-stocked first-aid kit and plenty of knowledge for situations just like this.
Without hesitation, he stepped outside and took the stranger’s weight from Anna’s tired arms. “Let’s get him inside. Quickly now….to the guest room.”
Together they half-carried, half-dragged the man into the warmly lit house.
Soft footsteps pattered down the hallway, and six-year-old Lily appeared, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.
Her curly blonde pigtails bounced as her big blue eyes just like Anna’s widened in surprise.
“Ana? Who’s that man?” she asked in her sweet, high voice.
“Someone who needs our help, sweetie,” Anna said gently, managing a smile. “Go sit with Auntie Margaret in the living room, okay? I’ll come get you soon.”
Mrs. Thompson scooped Lily up with ease. “Come on, my little sunshine. Let’s make some warm milk and maybe read a story while your sister and Uncle Robert work.”
