“You know this town well?” Mayme asked.
“Pretty well. I grew up just down the road, a place called Pine Creek.”
“Lucky you.”
Katy sighed. Whether she felt it or not at the moment, her blessings column was still way longer than that of her curses. “I am lucky for sure.”
Mayme patted her arm. “How refreshing; a young person who understands gratitude.”
“What can I say? I was raised well.”
“That much I can tell.”
Katy couldn’t keep her head from shaking. Why wasn’t she taking control of this situation? Why couldn’t she manage a polite exit? The woman was nice, sure, but she had plenty of nice people in her life.
“I can also tell that something’s upsetting you.”
Katy’s feet halted, tugging Mayme’s arm and making her stop, too. “I think I need to go,” she said. That’s it. No more chatting with strangers.
Mayme pulled on their clasped arms and set them in motion again. “Talking helps. Denial hurts.”
“I’m not denying anything.”
Mayme gave a purposeful side-eye. “Lying does even more damage than denial.”
Katy chewed her lip. This was crazy. “Do you always talk to people you don’t know this way?”
“I don’t always do anything.” The woman tightened her grip on Katy’s arm. “I do whatever the situation requires.”
“So, I’m a situation?”
“I think you’re in a situation.”
Katy frowned. “That’s one way to put it.”
Their feet stopped again, this time at Mayme’s insistence. She turned and faced Katy, eyes bright and knowing. “I cannot force you to do anything, Katy, but I do feel compelled to speak when I see a potential problem. Whatever’s wreaking havoc within must come out. If you allow it to stay hidden, it will snuff out your gorgeous light and create roadblocks in your life.”
Katy’s blinking began again, this time battling a fresh wave of tears. Who was this woman? And how did she know so much?
Mayme squeezed her hand. “It doesn’t have to be me, dear. Just choose someone and set your pain free.”
Something snapped in Katy’s chest, loud enough, it seemed, for her to expect another question of concern. But the woman just studied her and waited, a peaceful smile on her face, as a strange, swirling pressure swelled under Katy’s ribs. For a second, fear washed over her, like Mayme’s warning had triggered action, like her light was already about to be snuffed. She pushed the panic back with a wave of deep breaths and looked right into Mayme’s eyes.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay, okay, okay.”
“Good choice.” Mayme patted her arm and then extricated herself and stepped away. “Now I need that coffee.”
Katy’s mouth fell open. This had to be the strangest conversation of her life, and that was coming from the daughter of an ancient Highlander.
“Go find that someone, Katy. Don’t wait. Don’t give the pain any more of your time.”
There were no words. She could only nod, almost smile, barely wave.
Grinning broadly, Mayme pressed her palms together in front of her chest and bowed her head before turning and walking jauntily up the street. Katy watched her, about as shocked as she’d ever been. And here she’d spent her life believing she was an expert when it came to magic.
* * *
* * *
Jane was the obvious choice. That’s what best friends were for, right? Telling secrets, getting support, making each other feel normal? Katy pushed words around in her head, trying to come up with the right combination, as she pulled her phone from her hoodie pocket. Instead of figuring out what to say, though, all she could imagine was Jane’s horrified face, and then her furious face, and then her I’ll-be-on-a-plane-in-ten-minutes face.
Anxiety coated Katy’s skin. Nope, that just would not do. She couldn’t deal with Jane and Gunnar at the same time, in the same town. No freakin’ way.
Maybe it didn’t have to be right now, she told herself. Maybe she should go home and think on it. Her feet took charge like they approved of the idea, and it took her a few seconds to realize they weren’t leading her back to the campground. She looked up, and there they were again, the compassionate window-eyes of the crisis center.
Okay, that was it, she decided. First instincts were the good ones, that’s what everyone said. And though she would never have believed it possible, in the fifteen or so minutes since leaving Mayme, getting advice felt urgent, not optional. She needed to get a hold of whatever terror still rattled around in her body and fix the problem once and for all.
Before she knew it, she was heading toward the building. Her mind rushed to coach her, to soothe her, to remind her Birch was both family and friend, a sounding board as safe as her own mother. She halted. Her mother. The word swelled across her thoughts, a stabbing pain in its wake. What would her mother say if she found out Birch Callahan knew this first? Not even Jane, her dearest friend in all the world, but Birch. No again, she told herself. The list of choices had narrowed to one.
Sighing deeply, she looked around her for a somewhat private place. No telling how many more wandering visitors like Mayme might cross her path if she stayed on the main drag. Spotting the park a few blocks down, she headed for a sunny bench and tugged her phone out of the zippered pocket of her hoodie.
It took her six more deep breaths to dial. The coaching voice returned as the line rang, and it struck her that its wisdom suddenly ruled the day, like her gut made the decision for her and swept all the nervous, undermining, bargaining whispers out of reach.
“Katy? Oh my gosh, Katy! You okay?”
She smiled. Man, she’d missed that voice, its ever-present edge both touching and intimidating. “Yeah. Yes. I’m good. I’m sorry I’ve been so out of touch, but I’m good.”
Jane’s sigh was a tornado in her ear. “Where have you been? What in the ever-loving world is going on? I’ve been calling you for weeks. Literally weeks.”
Katy looked down, tugged at the zipper of her hoodie. “I know. I’m really sorry. This new job is really intense. I’ve wanted to talk to you a million times, but with the time difference and the weird hours and—”
“I’m not buying it.”
Katy took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. She could fudge this. She could just hit the highlights with Jane and save the tough stuff for some other time. Anxiety settled over her at the thought, a feeling so foreign and heavy it stole her breath. Now or never, MacBain, she told herself. Running away wouldn’t do a damn thing.
“Well?” Jane’s tone managed to get even sharper. Maybe new benefits came with her membership in the mothers’ union.
With a quick thought to the lovely conversation beyond this one—cooing and fussing over the brand-new baby princess her friend had ushered into the world—Katy steeled herself and pressed on. “Okay, okay. I’ve been battling some stuff, stuff I should have talked about sooner.” A tiny flicker of warmth sparked deep within, hungry for light and air.
“Okay, good. That’s a start. Let’s get to it.”
Katy sat back, surprised but not surprised that relief flooded her chest, made her feel warm and safe. Still, her mouth went dry as she tried to speak, not ready to let the words tumble out. “I’m still settling in, I guess.”
“Do you like the job?”
“Oh, yes. I love it.” Her smile felt genuine for the first time all day.
“That’s fantastic. You deserve that.” Jane’s voice lowered, like she’d stumbled onto some juicy gossip. “And how’s life in a station full of firefighters? I’m guessing the view is amazing. Anyone in particular catch your fancy?”
A tiny flutter of panic made Katy’s chest tingle. “Um . . . no. I haven’t been paying that much attention,” she murmured, giving herself a pass on the fib. It just wasn’t the time for t
hat kind of girl talk.
Jane sighed again, this time more like a straight-line wind, intense but not deadly. “Katherine MacBain, just how long are you going to make me fish for answers?”
Katy’s cheeks flamed, and she took a second to feel grateful Jane couldn’t actually see her. “Sorry. I should know better.”
“Yes, you should. We’re more like sisters than friends. There should be no clamming up with sisters.”
“Fine,” Katy blurted. “You’re right. Something happened.”
Jane gave a little gasp but said nothing.
Taking what felt like her millionth deep breath of the conversation, Katy fought to ignore the trembling of skin and bone and cells and made herself sit up taller. “There was a man at my wilderness rescue course.” She stared down at the lush grass, knowing the truth had to bubble up from the depths. “He, um . . . put something in my drink. I don’t remember what happened after that, but I woke up tied to a motel bed the next morning.”
A second gasp echoed, this one sharp and sonorous. “Oh, honey,” she said, and Katy could almost hear the tears sliding down her friend’s cheeks. “He raped you?” Jane asked after a moment.
Katy nodded and fought to find her voice. “Yes,” she finally whispered. “Yes, he did.”
Something close to a growl rattled through the line. “Did the authorities find him?”
She pursed her lips and looked to the ground again. The fledgling lightness inside her disappeared. Now they’d reached the crux of it.
“Katy? Is he still out there? Is he bothering you? Is that what you’ve been struggling with?”
Katy swallowed hard, guilt like a cement block in her gut. “No,” she murmured. “He’s not bothering me.”
“Well, good. So they got him?”
Her own tears started, tumbling out like they had to make up for lost time. “I didn’t report it, Jane. You’re the only person I’ve even told.”
Silence echoed, though Katy knew that just meant big wheels were turning in Jane’s head. “I’ll talk to Mark immediately,” she said finally. “We can help you. I mean, I have several branches of the armed forces at my disposal these days. He can’t hide for long.”
Katy smiled in spite of herself. Leave it to Jane to call in the troops. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Of course it matters. You have the right to seek justice.”
Her body went cold. Oh, she’d sought justice all right, her own very unique brand. But how could she tell her friend, even her best friend, that part of the story? Just admitting the rape was bad enough. She just didn’t have it in her to survive being a murderer in the eyes of the people she loved most. Pressing her lips together, she said nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell someone when it happened?”
Katy shrugged. “I was stunned, I guess. And then embarrassed. It just seemed easier to leave the place, and the experience, behind me.” She gulped fresh air and wished she’d packed a bottle of water. “And you know how the family would react. They would have tracked him down and killed him. Seriously. You and I both know that.”
“I guess I see your point, since that’s pretty much what I just offered to do,” Jane said, her voice low and thoughtful. “So, let’s focus on you instead. How about a counselor? You could talk to Birch.”
Katy shook her head, the refusal for herself more than Jane. “I don’t need counseling. I just need to make sure it never happens to me again.”
“How? By never going out with friends? Or drinking again? Or never dating?”
“It’s worked so far!”
“You can’t live every day in fear, Katy. You need to talk to someone about this.”
“I’m talking to you.”
Jane sighed. “Sounds to me like your rapist is no longer the demon. You’re fighting yourself instead.” She paused for a beat. “What about your mom?”
“What about her?”
“Are you going to tell her?”
Katy sighed. She couldn’t even let herself imagine that conversation, imagine a different cascade of emotions in her mother’s eyes—shock, horror, rage—not to mention how instantly protective she’d get. And what about her dad? Pillow talk was a real problem. She couldn’t ask, or expect, her mother to keep such a thing to herself. “I don’t think so,” she murmured.
Jane tsked-tsked like a little old lady. “Don’t be silly, Katy. Your mother happens to be one of the most wonderful women on the planet. She loves you, and I say that with a new understanding of the power of a mother’s love. She’ll just want to help, I promise.”
“Yeah, she’ll want to help me right back into my old life in Pine Creek,” Katy muttered. “She and Dad have been celebrating my independence as much as I have. I can’t let them know I didn’t keep myself safe.” Her voice broke on that last word, and she pressed her hand to her mouth.
“It won’t be like that. Please take it from another mother.”
The width of Katy’s smile made her cheeks hurt, and her eyes brimmed with the gratitude she couldn’t properly express. Though the telling made her feel like a completely new person, she also knew she’d taken the sharing about as far as she could. What mattered most was her ability to move on, to find the strength to get back on her feet and never fall in the same trap again. Never hesitate or back down. That’s what her father taught her, wasn’t it?
“I’ll find a way to tell her, I promise.” Katy got to her feet and started walking toward home, unable to bear the emotion roaring its way through her body. Gratitude and guilt couldn’t sit with each other for long, but all this truth-telling had left her a bit too worn out to choose a winner. Once she’d recharged, she’d call Jane again. They both deserved to giggle over the good stuff.
Chapter Fourteen
Gunnar allowed himself a small smile, more pleased with himself than he’d been in at least a week. This was a good idea, assigning Katy to fire inspection duty at the campground. If she saw through his ruse, or if she thought it suspicious that he gave himself the same duty, there were no hints to be found in those haunting gray eyes.
The day’s heat intensified on his shoulders, and he glanced at his watch. Lunchtime. Perfect. They’d been mostly working in silence all morning, moving from campsite to campsite and ensuring each fire pit was properly maintained, showed no residue of inappropriate burning, and had all the necessary safety equipment nearby. But now, with the sun high and his stomach growling, it was finally time to try to get past some of this blasted awkwardness pulsing between them.
“Let’s take a break,” he said.
Katy glanced up at him, her long legs bent in a low squat near the edge of the fire pit. “I’m fine, but you go ahead if you want.”
“It’s lunchtime.”
“Didn’t pack one.”
Gunnar let his grin widen. Score another point for him. “I brought enough for both of us.”
She shook her head and peered down into the campfire ash like diamonds might lie within. “You go ahead. I’m really not hungry.”
“Fine, don’t eat, but you can sit and rest a few minutes. Chief’s orders.”
With a sigh big enough to shake the leaves on the trees, Katy pushed to a stand and walked toward a nearby picnic table. “Aye, aye, sir,” she said as she plopped down on the bench seat.
Gunnar tried to catch her eye, craving just one hit of that impish gleam, but she looked away and cast her gaze into the woods. He watched her for a moment more, enjoying the dance of sunlight across her hair. His fingers twitched, aching to touch the fiery strands. He clenched them into fists and headed to the tree near the lane shading his gear bag.
He opened the bag, fishing inside as he walked. When he reached the table, he popped the tab of an energy drink and held it toward her. “You’re dehydrated.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Thanks, but I don’t like those.
I’ll guzzle down some water as soon as I get home.”
He sat down across from her, then set the opened can between them on the table. “But I want you to drink this one.”
“No, I’m good.” Her smile forced, she pushed the can toward him and restated her refusal by slipping her hands under the table to her lap. “You probably need it more than I do.”
He pushed it back, not stopping until it was almost touching her chest.
Her smile vanished. And almost as if a switch clicked in her head, she went as still as a stone. Her complexion paled, and her breathing went shallow. Seconds stretched to minutes as she silently stared into his eyes as though hoping to find the answers to all her unspoken questions. Gunnar knew that look, having seen it every day in the mirror from the age of eight until shortly after turning seventeen, when he’d taken a job on a fishing boat that hadn’t had mirrors. He’d jumped ship in Oslo, called his aunt to say he was fine and would keep in touch, and set off to search the world for those answers.
Hell, he was still searching. “Drink it, Katy.”
She flinched and broke eye contact by simply looking down at the can. “I don’t want . . . I can’t.”
He already knew that. What he didn’t know was why.
“Why can’t you?” he quietly asked.
The woods fell silent again. More seconds stretched to minutes before he saw her entire torso expand on a deep breath and deflate on a violent shudder. “Because—” More seconds passed. “Because the last time I drank something someone gave me,” she said, still looking down, “I apparently spent the rest of the night being ra—being sexually assaulted.”
Well, fuck. “Explain ‘apparently,’” he gently commanded, even as he braced himself for the answer.
“I was . . . I woke up in a motel room the next morning,” she said in a barely audible whisper, “naked, tied spread-eagle on the bed, every cell in my body screaming in pain, and . . . and not knowing why.”
“Who found you?”
“It took me most of the day,” she softly continued, her arms moving ever so slightly, as if she were rubbing her wrists under the table, “before I was able to free myself.”
Call It Magic Page 19