Trixie, the ghost fish and worrying about her

The first and most important thing anyone needs to know about Trixie is that adventure is in her blood. You could sooner convince the tides to stop or the moon to rise in the light of day than to dissuade Trixie from her investigating. She can't not be curious and she's absolutely fearless. I admire that about her, always have. All I can do is try to protect her without stifling her nature, a much harder task than you'd think. Up to now, I've succeeded for the most part. Trixie respects me enough to listen and I take the place of her non-existent survival instincts well enough. With unearthly luck, Trixie's intuition and detective skills, the Bob Whites have escaped all her adventures unscathed. Never before has Trixie been in such danger to her life before.

My foster sister screams for me, begging me to rescue Trixie. Her almost twin is chalk white and sweating as he pulls on her life line desperately. Her other brother is hot on my heels as we race against time to get to Trixie.

The only thing I can think is please, God, keep Trixie safe and I'll never ask for anything again.

I drop to my knees beside the dark hole and haul up the slack rope rapidly. Brian joins me. Below us, our girl scrabbles at handholds and climbs to meet us.

It is just moments but it seems longer. Far longer. The wait is agony. One moment spent was a moment too long. Finally I simply reach in and pull Trixie out. She is soaked through and clings to me dazedly. Even with her sandy curls plastered to her head, she has never been more beautiful to me.

When Trixie opened her blue eyes and sighed my name, the wave of relief that swept through me left me speechless. I could do nothing but clutch her tighter and carry her out. Honey is a silent anxious shadow by my side as I stride out of the place that was nearly her best friend's watery grave. She wrings her hands helplessly and runs to Brian to shape a pallet out of our sweaters. Her hands shake from shock and sheer relief.

Trixie curls towards me trustingly. She is not much younger, only two years younger than me. Yet she is so small and vulnerable. I could have lost her. Shock almost overtakes me but Trixie makes a small inquiring noise and buries her face in the crook of my neck. She needs me now. I gather her more securely into my arms and carry her out carefully.

I put her down and the others crowd around her. Mr Hawkins hangs back worriedly, obviously blaming himself. Mart, Brian, Honey and I have eyes only for Trixie.

"That rain was a hazard no one thought of." I whisper.

That breaks open the floodgates and Brian starts to speak too. Trixie is pale and limp and Honey sidles up to her friend and looks worried. I would be too, if I had not held her in my arms and felt how warm and alive she was.

Sure enough, Trixie is only quiet for a while before she asks about her precious fish. She has a one track mind, our girl does, and we love her for it. Mart laughs breathlessly from sheer relief and Brian leans against a wall to prop knees gone weak from relief.

Mart assures her that her ghost fish are safe after all her trouble and bends to inspect the bounty to hide his trembling hands, I feel much the same. Loving Trixie is entirely too easy and nerve wrecking.

"Oh Trixie." Honey breathes, stroking damp curls shakily.

It had been quite enough for one day. I look at Brian and see that we have come to the same conclusion. We override Trixie's protests firmly, pack up and leave. Honey is glad to do so and Trixie gives in reluctantly, beginning to shiver in the aftermath. Mart swoops in to tease her and she forgets in familiar sibling antagonism.

Even later, hours, days, weeks later, I do not forget how fragile Trixie was in my arms. It evoked unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensations. I only wish she had been so close to me willingly, in happier times. Loving Trixie is very different from loving Honey and I am sure that I do not love Trixie as a sister. I wonder what she would think of that.