I wanted to stand up.

I wanted to run toward the nearest road, find a telephone, and tell the entire world what Daniel had done.

But when I tried to put weight on my left leg, it buckled beneath me.

I fell forward into the mud.

A sharp pain spread through my lower abdomen.

My breath caught.

“No.

No, please.”

I curled onto my side and waited for the pain to pass.

It might have been a strained muscle.

It might have been a consequence of the terrible impact.

Or it might have been something far worse.

I didn’t know.

And not knowing was almost unbearable.

High above me, I could still hear distant voices.

Daniel was speaking to someone, although I could no longer make out his words.

I imagined him standing with one hand over his face, shaking his head, pretending to be too distraught to explain.

He would tell them I had slipped.

He would tell them I had been careless.

Maybe he would say I had insisted on standing near the edge, despite his warnings.

I knew how easily he could make a lie sound reasonable.

He had been doing it throughout our marriage.

But there was one thing he hadn’t anticipated.

His wife was still alive to contradict him.

I pulled myself toward the trees.

The muddy bank rose into a patch of ferns and low bushes.

Beyond them, I could see a faint opening where the forest floor looked flatter.

Perhaps there was a maintenance path.

Perhaps it led nowhere.

I didn’t have the strength to think very far ahead.

I only knew that I couldn’t remain beside the water.

The cold was seeping into my bones.

My fingers had started losing sensation.

I had to find help.

After several exhausting minutes, I reached the tree line.

I used a trunk to pull myself upright.

The world tilted.

Black spots swam across my vision.

I clung to the bark until I could breathe again.

Then I took one step.

And another.

The ground was uneven, covered in wet leaves and exposed roots.

Each movement sent pain through my shoulder.

My soaked clothes clung to my skin.

I kept one hand beneath my stomach as though I could hold my daughter safely in place.

“I’m here, Lily,” I whispered.

The words were meant for her.

But I think I needed to hear them, too.

“I’m still here.”

I don’t know exactly how far I walked.

It couldn’t have been very far.

Perhaps a few hundred yards.

But with my injured leg, my enormous fear, and the freezing water still dripping from my hair, it felt like miles.

Then I heard an engine.

I stopped.

The sound came from somewhere ahead.

A vehicle.

For a moment, relief washed through me.

Then fear followed.

What if it’s Daniel?

What if he’d driven down to another access point to look for my body?

What if he saw me standing there?

I ducked behind a tree.

The engine grew louder.

Through the branches, I saw a white pickup truck moving slowly along a narrow gravel road.

An older man was driving.

There was fishing equipment in the back.

He stopped near a small clearing and stepped out, holding a thermos.

He looked about sixty, with a gray beard and a heavy brown jacket.

I tried to call to him.

No sound came.

My throat felt as though I had swallowed broken glass.

I took another breath.

“Help!”

The man froze.

He looked toward the trees.

“Hello?”

“Please!”

He set down his thermos and hurried toward me.

When he saw me, his expression changed completely.

“Good Lord.”

He reached me just as my knees gave way.

I grabbed his sleeve.

“Please,” I whispered.

“I’m pregnant.”

“I can see that.

Easy now.

I’ve got you.”

He guided me down onto a patch of dry ground.

“What happened?

Did you fall in the river?”

I looked desperately over his shoulder.

“Is anyone with you?”

“No.

Just me.”

“Please don’t let my husband find me.”

The man went still.

He looked at the river, then at my torn clothes and bleeding hands.

“What did you say?”

“My husband pushed me.”

His face hardened.

“Are you certain?”

“He pushed me off Silver Gorge.

He thought I would drown.”

The man’s eyes widened.

Then, to my immense relief, he didn’t waste time asking why.

He took off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

“My name’s Grant Mercer,” he said.

“I used to work with the county ambulance service.

I’m going to call for help, all right?”

I nodded.

“Can you tell them I’m pregnant?”

“That’s the first thing I’m telling them.”

He took out his phone.

I watched his hands as he called emergency services and described my condition.

His voice was steady.