by Kelli Warner
“Dammit!” I scrub a hand through my hair, tired and frustrated that we’re nowhere closer to finding her. “This is all my fault.”
“Don’t say that,” Shawn says.
“What about the police? Maybe they can find her.”
“Take it easy. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Is there anywhere else you can think of that Paige would go? Think hard, Cade.”
I shake my head and take a seat on one of the swings. Paige loved this spot, that’s why I thought she’d be here. I brought her to the park for the first time about a month ago, after we’d gone to the movies with Ash and Zeke. It was late, so the area was deserted, and we were alone. I got Paige all to myself, and she got the opportunity to swing like she was eight-years-old again. I’d pushed her for nearly an hour, and she’d pumped her legs until she was swinging as high as she could go. Just that simple act put a childlike smile on her face. She’d told me a long time ago, shortly after we met, that she likes heights, that being up high makes her feel free. Height—I roll the word around in my brain. “She felt free.”
“What did you say?” Shawn asks.
I lean my forehead against the cold metal chain. “Paige told me she likes heights—because elevation makes her feel free,” I say slowly. I shoot off the swing. “I know where she is.” I take off for the truck in a dead sprint.
“Cade, wait!” Shawn calls. He’s right behind me when I reach the truck. “Where are we going?”
“Devil’s Eye Viewpoint,” I say. And for the first time tonight, I hope I’m wrong.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Cade
When we pull into the parking area at the trailhead, I’m both relieved and concerned to see Paige’s car. It’s the only vehicle in the lot, ringed by the soft yellow glow of the light post it’s parked beneath.
“It’s locked,” Shawn announces after checking all four doors and shining his flashlight in the windows.
I stare into the tree line as Shawn retrieves his two-way radio and his first aid pack from the truck. Panic floods my chest as I absorb the reality of his actions.
“Just in case,” he says, and he barely gets the words out before I’m heading for the path, my cell phone flashlight in hand.
“This way,” I shout, and Shawn quickly falls into step behind me.
“How far up?” he asks.
“About twenty minutes,” I say over my shoulder. Aside from the snapping of twigs beneath our feet and our labored breathing as the path grows steeper, silence consumes our hike. I try to focus on what’s in front of me, but my mind keeps retreating to the argument I had with Paige. That stupid, ridiculous argument. I shake away the memory, only to have it return moments later as if it’s on a revolving playlist along with the rest of my punishing thoughts. Each time it creeps back in, I hike faster, no longer concerned whether Shawn is keeping up. I have to get up there. I have to find her.
Even with the light from my phone and the beams coming from Shawn’s flashlight behind me, the darkness is disorienting. I’m having a hard time gauging my surroundings and identifying where to break from the main trail. I’m forced to slow my pace so I don’t miss it. My heart soars when I locate the familiar side trail, marked only by a couple of broken branches.
“Through here!” I call. “Watch your step.” I impatiently swat my way through the wayward branches, stepping carefully over the underbrush as the churning ocean grows louder. As I emerge from the trees onto the outcropping I know so well, horror replaces every ounce of triumph and satisfaction that sprouted just moments before. It’s not what I see but what I don’t see that brings me to an abrupt halt. Not five feet in front of me, the ground has crumbled and the edge—is gone.
Within seconds, Shawn is beside me, the bright light of his flashlight illuminating the space, and that’s when the gravity of the situation lands squarely on top of me like a pile of bricks. I ease forward to get a better look—and I spot her.
“Paige!” Her name shoots from my mouth in both a plea and a prayer. The earth has fallen, and Paige is crumpled on the ground below, maybe ten feet down. She’s not moving. Oh, God, she’s not moving. Panic explodes inside me.
“Get back!” Shawn orders. “We don’t know how stable the ground is.” Immediately, he’s on his radio, calling for help.
I disregard his command and instead, I lunge forward until I’m on my hands and knees.
“Cade, don’t!” Shawn’s sharp warning echoes into the night, but I’m already over the edge, frantically trying to secure my footing on the rocky earth beneath me. I lose my grip and slide, pain slicing across my stomach and chest, and I shout out, clawing at the rocks to regain my hold. Beams of light rain down from Shawn’s flashlight, along with more shouts. Warnings? Instructions, maybe? I can’t concentrate on that. My sole focus is getting to Paige as fast as I can without loosening any more rocks and sending them showering down on top of her. The night wind is biting and relentless, beating against my back and cutting chills down my spine.
When my feet reach the ledge, I carefully crawl my way toward Paige. She’s bleeding from a gash on her forehead and several cuts along her cheeks. I lay two fingers on the side of her neck and relief shoots through me when I feel her pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there. I place an ear to her chest. “She’s breathing!” I shout.
“Don’t move her!” Shawn yells. “Help is on the way.”
“Open your eyes,” I plead, but there’s no response. “Come on, Paige. Wake up. Look at me.” Her skin is like ice. That damn wind! I shake out of my jacket and cover her with it, consumed by helplessness that I can’t do more for her. I stretch out next to her, ignoring the sharp rocks cutting into my side and the pain burning across my chest. Gathering her in close, I shelter her with the warmth of my body. And I pray.
“Come on, Paige. Stay with me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Cade
The waiting room in the ER is unnervingly quiet. A woman with an inconsolable infant was just taken back through the large double doors, leaving only one couple in the far corner, huddled close together and holding hands.
Mr. and Mrs. Chapman were called back to see Paige about a half hour ago. I’m hoping that’s a good sign, but I’m not family, so the nurse at the desk refuses to give me any information on her condition.
After Shawn alerted the Coast Guard, a helicopter rescue team was dispatched. Once Paige was stabilized, they’d hoisted us both to safety, where an air medevac team transported her to the hospital. Shawn called Jay, told him what had happened and instructed him to get to the hospital.
I stare at the clock on the wall, then close my eyes. I’m physically exhausted but mentally wired. A nurse patched up the cuts and scrapes on my stomach and chest while Shawn spent nearly fifteen minutes on the phone with Macy, trying to convince her that I was okay, that she didn’t need to come to the hospital and we’d be home soon. I wasn’t surprised when Macy showed up thirty minutes later and hasn’t left my side since. Shawn is outside, talking with an ambulance crew from his station that transported another patient about twenty minutes ago.
“Why is it taking so long to hear something?” I ask, leaning my elbows on my knees.
Macy gently rubs my back. “I don’t know. I’m sure they’ll tell us something soon. I’m going to get a drink from the vending machine down the hall. Do you want anything?” I shake my head, and she kisses my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
Without Macy there to distract me, my mind replays everything that’s happened, and my thoughts quickly turn to all the ways I could have prevented tonight from happening. If only I’d handled things differently, Paige wouldn’t be hurt, and I wouldn’t be blaming myself for it. I scrub a hand down my face and stare at a cracked floor tile at my feet.
“Cade?”
I lift my head and meet Mr. Chapman’s stoic but tired eyes. I quickly stand. “How is she?”
“They’re still running some tests, but they think she’s going to be all right.” Hi
s smile is guarded, but it’s there, lifting the corner of his mouth ever so slightly.
I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “That’s great news.”
“We’re not sure how long she was exposed to the elements, but long enough that she suffered mild hypothermia. The paramedics say it would have been worse if you hadn’t been there.” Mr. Chapman dips his head, and his eyes sweep the floor. “Thank you for that. To you and Shawn—I never would have found her on my own.”
I nod.
Mr. Chapman scratches the back of his head and clears his throat. “I owe you an apology.”
Did I hear him right? Maybe my exhaustion has somehow morphed into delusion, and my mind is somehow manipulating the words coming from his mouth.
“My daughter accused me of jumping to conclusions and not giving you a fair shake. As much as I would like to deny it, she was right.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I was hard on you, Cade, and I apologize for that.”
I nod, and my inclination is to say, “That’s okay,” but I manage to swallow my response before it can escape. Because it’s not okay how Mr. Chapman treated me, and it’s time that I retire those words for good. I think Mac would call that progress.
“Paige is sleeping now, but they should be moving her to a room upstairs soon. You’re welcome to visit her,” he says. “I’m sure she’ll want to see you.”
I never thought I would hear him speak those words to me—to issue an invitation. And while that should fill me with relief and with the hope that his acceptance is also implied, I’m drained. “I should probably get going. But I’m glad she’s gonna be all right.”
“Would you like me to tell her anything when she wakes up?” he offers.
My eyes stray to the closed doors. The man just gave me permission to see his daughter. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted—but I can’t take it. Not now. Not after so much has happened.
“No, thank you,” I say. “No message.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Paige
A soft, rhythmic beeping draws me slowly back to the surface. My eyelids are heavy, as if someone glued them shut, and it takes me a few moments to blink them open. When I finally do, I squint up at white lights glowing down from the ceiling above me. I’m no longer cold, that much I know instantly. The sharp ground beneath me is gone, replaced by something soft and warm. The pain radiating through my body, once sharp and deep, is now a dull, throbbing ache.
I search for the source of the beeping, locating several machines to my left, their monitors blinking red, green and white, with numbers I can’t understand. A clear bag of liquid hangs from a hook on a long metal stand. My eyes trail along the tube attached to it and discover that it’s connected to my arm.
Then I see Jay. He’s slumped in the chair between the machines and my bed, his elbows on his knees, his eyes closed and his hands fisted against his lips.
A weak moan escapes from the back of my throat as I try to swallow and find my voice. Jay’s eyes shoot open, and he straightens. “Paige?” His voice lowers into a guarded tone. “How are you feeling?”
“It hurts,” I manage, realizing for the first time that my right arm is in a sling.
“I know,” Jay says, scooting his chair closer to the bed. “You dislocated your shoulder, and you’re really scraped up and bruised. But nothing’s broken, thank God.”
“My head’s pounding,” I tell him, my voice raspy against my dry throat. I raise the hand that’s attached to the tubes and wince when I touch my forehead.
“Easy there. You have a nasty cut. Took twelve stitches to close it up,” Jay says, his brow creased with concern. “Do you remember what happened?”
I think about that, but all I see are random, swirling images. I close my eyes and concentrate, trying to get them to slow down and fall into some recognizable pattern that makes any kind of sense. Pain beats against my skull. “I remember falling,” I say, recalling the searing pain that had devoured me like flames. I cough, and a blast of agony tears across my shoulder and shoots down my back. Jay lunges forward in his chair and lays a hand on my unencumbered arm.
“Are you okay?” His face is a mask of tension. I exhale sharply and relax against the pillow with a small nod.
“I’m going to get the nurse,” he says, turning for the door.
“Please, don’t go,” I say. I can handle the pain, but it will be unbearable if he leaves me alone right now. Jay hesitates before sliding back into his chair and gripping the edge of the bed.
“What were you thinking, hiking up that mountain by yourself?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “It wasn’t my best decision.”
He runs his hands through his dark hair and clasps them behind his neck, staring at me like he hasn’t seen me in weeks. “We could have lost you, Paige.”
What can I say to that? He’s right, and there’s no debating it. I was dumb and reckless, and it ended badly. I stare down at the sling and the tubes and sigh—then I see it. I mean, I don’t see it. My watch. Where is it? I glance at the table beside the bed, then frantically scan the room. “Where’s my watch?!” I nearly shriek. The machine beside the bed beeps faster, and I wince at the pain as I sit forward, spurred on by my panic.
“Take it easy,” Jay says, standing and leaning forward to calm me, but realizing there isn’t anything he can do.
“Where is it?” I demand again, taking another scan of my left wrist as if I might have overlooked it the first time.
“I don’t know, let’s see.” Jay moves toward another chair on the other side of my bed and begins to dig through a large plastic bag. “They put your clothes and belongings in here.” He pulls out my jeans, my sweater and my shoes, even the bangles Macy gave me, which have become a permanent fixture on my wrist. But my watch isn’t there. “Maybe you weren’t wearing it,” he suggests, showing me the empty bag.
“I was wearing it!” I say. “I never take it off. Mom gave me that watch. We have to find it!”
Jay shakes his head helplessly. “I’m sorry, Paige, it’s not here.”
Tears press against my eyelids as a new pain takes hold of me. I sink back into my pillow as wetness slides down my cheeks. This hurts so much worse than my shoulder or my head. This hurt radiates from my heart. The tears drip onto my hospital gown.
“I’m so sorry,” Jay says again, circling around to the other side of the bed and placing a comforting hand on my forearm. There aren’t enough I’m sorries or sympathy on earth to make this better.
With his shoulders hunched in exhaustion, Jay reaches for something on the floor beside the bed. He gently places my mother’s journals in my lap, careful not to disturb the tube in my arm.
“I never took the money,” he says. “I need you to know that.”
A white envelope peeks out from beneath the pages of one of the journals. I open the book and hold it up. It’s addressed to Jay. “What’s this?”
Jay’s quiet for a moment, his eyes resting on the envelope. “That’s a letter from Abby.”
“What?” The skin on my arms tingle. “Where did you get this?”
Jay clears his throat. “From the lawyer. After he contacted me and told me about Abby’s will—he sent it to me.” I stare down at it, running my finger across Jay’s name scrawled in my mother’s familiar handwriting. “I know you don’t understand why Abby did what she did. I thought maybe this could help. You’re welcome to read it.”
I stare at Jay before flipping over the envelope and pulling out the letter. My hands are shaking.
Dear Jay,
I’m not quite sure how to start this letter, so I’m just going to write down everything I’m feeling and hope it makes some kind of sense to both of us when I’m finished.
First, let me apologize for the lawyer. I can only imagine how shocking it must have been to get that phone call. By now you know that something has happened to me, and because of that I’m reaching out to you on behalf of our daughter, Paige. Oh,
Jay, she’s incredible, and she’s grown into quite an amazing young woman. I think you would be proud to know her, and I’m hoping that you will take this opportunity to do so.
I never imagined that there would come a day that I wouldn’t be there for Paige, but if I’ve learned anything over the last several years, it’s that time is fleeting, and things often change without warning. I need to know that I gave Paige the chance to get to know her father—if that is something you both want.
I used to think that Paige didn’t need a father in her life, that I could offer her all the guidance and love that she deserved. I think I’ve done a fair job, but over the years I’ve often wondered if perhaps I made a mistake by not reaching out to you and offering you a chance to meet her. Life is too short, which I now fully understand. I regret the years I wasted being angry at my father and resentful towards you for all the things that happened so many years ago. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like without Paige. Despite how things ended, you gave me the best part of my existence. I will forever be grateful to you for that.
I realize that I am asking a lot of you. I’m aware that you have a family and obligations that might make it difficult, if not impossible, for you to invite Paige into your life. Please know that you are under no obligation to care for her. But if you have thought about her over the years or wondered if there could be a place for you in her life after all this time, know that there is. I hope you will consider it. And if not, I won’t begrudge you that.
I hope that life has been good to you and that you are surrounded by happiness and love. We all deserve that.
Abby