her: Put the gear into low range and pull the emergency brakes. The emergency brakes work on a cable, not on pneumatic pressure. A loss of brake fluid won't affect them.
The stopped car was just fifty yards ahead now. The oncoming car was less than that.
She pulled the gear shift into low and reached for the emergency brake lever, pulling it with all her strength. Metal shrieked as the transmission ground down, and black smoke boiled up from her tires. The stench of burning rubber filled the car.
The rear end of the car will likely come around. Steer out of the skid if you can. If you don't have room, and you see you're going to hit someone or be hit, try to maneuver so it's an indirect collision. Both of you will be more likely to walk away.
The rear end swung into the other lane, in front of the oncoming car. A horn blared, and Roanna caught a glimpse of a furious, terrified face, just a blur in the windshield. She turned into the skid, felt the car began to slide in the other direction, and quickly spun the steering wheel to correct that skid, too.
The oncoming car swept past with inches to spare, horn still blaring. That left only the car in her lane, still sitting patiently at the stop sign, turn signal blinking.
Twenty yards. No more room, no more time. With the left lane clear now, Roanna sent the car into a spinning slide across it. A cornfield stretched out on the other side of the road, nice and flat. She left the road and plunged across the shoulder, the car still skidding sideways. She crashed into the fencing, wood splintering, and a whole section came down. The car plowed down head-high stalks of corn as it bumped and thudded across the furrows, clods of dirt flying in all directions. She was thrown forward, and the seat belt bit hard into her hips and torso, jerking her back as the car shuddered to a stop.
She sat there with her head resting on the steering wheel, too weak and dazed to get out of the car. Numbly she took stock of herself. Everything seemed to be all right.
She became aware that she was trembling uncontrollably. She'd done it!
She heard someone yelling, then there was a tapping on the window beside her.
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Are you all right?"
Roanna lifted her head and stared into the scared face of a teenage girl. Willing her shaking limbs to obey, she unclipped the seat belt and tried to get out. The door didn't want to open. She shoved, and the girl pulled from the outside, and together they forced it open enough for Roanna to climb out.
"I'm okay," she managed to say.
"I saw you run off the road. Are you sure you're okay? You hit that fence pretty hard."
"The fence got the worst of it." Roanna's teeth began chattering, and she had to lean against the car or sink to the ground.
"My brakes failed."
The girl's eyes widened.
"Oh, gosh! You ran off the road to keep from hitting me, didn't you?" "It seemed like a better idea," she said, and her knees sagged.
The girl sprang forward, sliding an arm around her.
"You are hurt!"
Roanna shook her head, forcing her knees to stiffen as the girl showed signs of bursting into tears.
"No, I'm just scared, that's all. My legs feel like limp noodles." She took a few deep, steadying breaths.
"I have a cell phone in the car, I'll just call someone to come-" "I'll get it for you," the girl said, wrenching the door open wider and scrambling inside to find the cellular phone. After a brief search she located it under the right front seat.
Roanna took some more calming breaths before she called home. The last thing she wanted to do was unduly alarm Webb or Lucinda, so that meant she had to steady her voice.
Bessie answered the phone, and Roanna asked for Webb. He came on the line a moment later.
Chapter 21
"You haven't been gone five minutes," he teased.
"What else have you thought of T,
"Nothing," she said, and was proud of how calm she sounded.
"Come down to the intersection and get me. I had trouble with the brakes on my car and ran off the road."
He didn't reply. She heard a violent, muffled curse, then there was a clatter and the phone went dead.
"He's on his way," she said to the girl, and pressed the END button on the phone.
Webb bundled Roanna into his truck, thanked the teenager for checking on her, and drove back to Davencourt so fast that Roanna clung to the overhead strap to steady herself. When they reached the house, he insisted on carrying her inside.
"Put me down!" she hissed as he swung her up into his arms.
"You'll have everyone 'worried to death."
"Hush," he said, and kissed her, hard.
"I love you and you're pregnant. Carrying you makes me feel better."
She looped her arm around his neck and hushed. She had to admit, the warmth and strength of his big body was very soothing, as if she were absorbing some of it through her skin. But as she had predicted, the fact that she wasn't walking on her own brought everyone scurrying, frightened questions on their lips.
Webb carried her into the living room and placed her on one of the couches as carefully as if she were made of fine crystal.
"I'm all right, I'm all right," she kept saying to the chorus of questions.
"I'm not even bruised."
"Get her something hot and sweet to drink," Webb said to Tansy, who rushed to obey.
"Decaffeinated!" Roanna called after her, thinking of the baby.
After assuring himself for the tenth time that she was unhurt, Webb stood up and told her he was going out to have a look at her car.
"I'll go with you," she said in relief at the prospect of escaping from all the cosseting, getting up, but she was immediately drowned out by a chorus of protests from the women in the household.