Summer Shadows

by Gayle Roper

  Marsh looked interested. “What kind?”

  Abby scowled at him. “How should I know? Why should I care? Bleh! It tasted awful.”

  “Doubtless biting the inside of your stomach right now,” Marsh said as he bent and lifted her into his arms once again. He walked the shifting sand with a surefooted ease that Abby envied. When he abruptly turned sideways to pass an overgrown shrub, Abby grabbed his shirt to keep from tumbling out of his grasp at the sudden movement. When she felt certain she wasn’t going to fall, she released the fabric and patted at the wrinkles. Then she slipped her arm about his back for a more secure ride.

  The gathering darkness wrapped around them, and Abby leaned back into Marsh. What she wanted to do was lay her head on his shoulder, but somehow she lacked the courage.

  “Could you shine the light at my feet?” Marsh asked. “It’s getting difficult to see in here.”

  Abby reached for the switch on the lantern, which rested on the quilt that rested on her lap. The beam of light cut through the gloom, illuminating a wide-eyed raccoon hiding from them beneath a bayberry bush. It made little chirruping noises as it backed away.

  Abby swung the light to the path. “Poor baby. I bet we scared years off his life. How long do raccoons live?”

  “I have no idea.” Marsh wasn’t even straining under her weight. “Why don’t you go to the library tomorrow and ask about it? I understand that children’s librarians know how to find out all kinds of information like that.”

  She gave him a little punch in the kidney with the hand behind his back. He grunted, grinning as they emerged from the scrub onto a wide expanse of beach. Here in the open, the night darkness wasn’t yet deep.

  “You can put me down now,” Abby said. “I’ll be able to walk better here in the open.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” Marsh kept walking at the same steady pace.

  Abby flicked off the lantern, leaning back into him again. “Then don’t. I sort of like being cared for so well.” She took a big gulp and laid her head against his shoulder. It felt just right resting there. She was surprised and pleased when he bent to press a kiss on her temple.

  He walked all the way to the edge of the water, then lowered her to her feet. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and bent to swish it in the water. “Let me see that arm again.”

  Embarrassed, Abby held out her hand for the wet cloth. “I can do it.”

  He batted her hand gently. “But I can see what I’m doing. You can try all you want, but you’ll never see this part of your arm without a mirror.”

  Acknowledging the truth of that remark, Abby offered her arm. With care he blotted it with the cloth. As Abby had expected, the salty water stung. She flinched.

  “Hurt?”

  “A bit.”

  When he was satisfied with his ministrations, he rinsed the handkerchief once again, wrapping it about her arm, tying a knot in the ends to secure it. “To keep out any sand.”

  She nodded. “You’re a very nice man.”

  He grinned. “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  He picked her up again, holding her close. “I don’t want you choking on any more giant bugs.”

  “There aren’t many down here by the water.” She wrapped her arm around his neck this time. “The breeze blows them away.”

  “Okay,” he said a few minutes later. “How’s this?”

  Abby straightened and looked around. They were standing at the demarcation line between the soft beach and the tide-scrubbed sand. The park was several yards behind them, the ocean ahead, and above were more stars than she’d ever seen. The nearest people, a family with two young children running circles around their parents as they sat on a blanket, were several yards away. “Perfect.”

  Marsh lowered her until she was standing, but he kept his arm around her back. They stood for a long moment, sides touching from shoulder to hip. Again she laid her head on his shoulder, and again he bent to kiss her temple. The air around them thrummed with intimacy and an unnerving intensity. One of them had to move, to break the tension. But which one and move how? Apart? Or into a full embrace? She dropped the quilt and lantern, sliding her other arm about his waist.

  He smiled down at her, and something in his glance made her feel beautiful and desirable instead of skinny and scarred. He leaned down, kissing her on the crown of her head. Then with a sigh, he released her and picked up the quilt. With a grand flourish he shook it out, spreading it on the sand.

  Abby sat, drawing her legs up, resting her chin on her knees. Marsh came down beside her, close but not quite touching. He glanced at the sky.

  “Any time now,” he said.

  Abby looked up and swallowed. The vast canopy of the heavens glittered with stars beyond number. “I can’t get my mind around the sheer size of it all, let alone the idea of other galaxies. It’s a hard enough struggle to comprehend the extent of our own.”

  “ ‘The heavens are telling the glory of God,’ ” Marsh sang.

  Abby turned to him in surprise.

  “It’s a chorus from Haydn’s “The Creation,” one of the all-time great oratorios. It was first performed in 1798 and is still sung today.”

  “Ah.”

  He cast her a look. “No name of the female musician who sang the soprano solos?”

  She laughed. “No, but I certainly agree with the thought. The heavens do testify to God’s glory.”

  “I don’t understand how people can look at the night sky and not believe in God.”

  Abby nodded. “At the very least God as Creator. All those brilliant suns up there sure don’t stay in place by some cosmic accident. That stretches credibility too far.”

  “It takes more faith to be an evolutionist than it does to be a creationist, as far as I’m concerned. The laws of probability alone defy anything as complex and immense as this.” He swept his hand.

  “There!” Abby pointed out over the water. “Did you see it? A real falling star!”

  “A real one, huh? So much better than a fake.”

  She was so pleased to spot the first one that she didn’t even bother commenting on his teasing. He lay back, hands behind his head, eyes skyward.

  In a few minutes, her neck aching from looking up, she lay back too, close but not touching.

  “There.” Marsh pointed to the northwest. “Did you see that one? That’s twelve for me.”

  “I saw it, and I’m at thirteen. Oh, look! I mean fourteen.”

  When a trio of meteors flared, then died in the southern sky, Abby turned her head to Marsh in delight. “Did you see?”

  He turned to her, grinning his slow grin. “I did. Beautiful.” But he wasn’t talking about the sky. That’s when she realized that they were definitely touching, shoulders pressed together and hands linked. All at once even breathing became difficult.

  Thirty-nine

  MARSH RAISED himself on his elbow and leaned over Abby. Her mouth went dry. Slowly he lowered his head, giving her plenty of time to pull away. But she didn’t move. She wanted his kiss.

  His lips were soft and warm, and her blood began to sing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, pulling him down to her. Tears pooled behind her closed lids. She’d forgotten how wonderful a kiss from a man you loved could be.

  She’d also forgotten how intense the longings could be, longings she had soothed regularly during her marriage. Appetites once sanctified now coursed through her without God’s blessing on their appeasement. In the words of the old King James, she burned and with an intensity that scared her.

  Her hands moved from Marsh’s neck to his chest; she gave a gentle shake. “Marsh. Marsh!”

  “Um?” He kissed her nose, her eyes. His hands held her face.

  It felt so good! “Marsh, we have to stop.” She turned her face, burying it in his neck.

  He stilled, dropped his hands, and sat up, his back to her. She could hear his labored breathing. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I—I’m sor
ry.”

  She sat up, resting a hand on his back. “I’m not upset. It’s all right. It wasn’t you who scared me. It was me.”

  He turned to her. “What?”

  She wrapped her arms about her knees. “I was married, Marsh. I know what it’s like to love a man and be loved. It’s like nothing else, and your kiss reminded me of how wonderful it can be. Should be. Would be.” She laid her head on her knees. “I wanted us to continue too much.”

  They sat in silence as meteors continued to rain above.

  “Desire’s a funny thing,” Marsh finally said. “One minute it’s ‘you’re beautiful,’ emotional but controlled, and the next it’s fire in the blood.” He reached out, running his fingers down her cheek. “But it’s more than mere desire with you. I want you to know that.”

  It’s more here, too. Tears burned her eyes once again. “I’m glad.”

  “When I became a Christian in college,” he said, looking back to the sea, “I entered what I’ve always referred to as my second virginity. I knew I couldn’t go back and undo what was already done, but from that moment on, I could be chaste. And I have been. It’s been hard at times, but I don’t regret that decision.” He got to his feet and reached for Abby’s hand. “I think that for our own protection we’d better go.”

  She let him pull her up, then bent for the quilt. They each took two corners and shook it. Then she walked her corners to him. He grabbed not only them, but her hands as well. He searched her face. “You’re certain you’re all right?”

  She leaned forward, brushing a light kiss over his lips. “I’m certain.” She slipped her hands free, and he finished folding the quilt. She bent for the heavy flashlight and the bug spray. She glanced at the park. “Do we have to walk back through the bugs?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll just walk along the beach until we get beyond the park. If we have to walk back a block or two for the car, it’ll be better than providing a living feast.”

  Nodding, Abby turned to walk along the water’s edge. As she did so, she stepped in a slight depression. Her weak leg buckled. She lurched, and Marsh reached for her.

  A great crack of sound shattered the air. Abby jumped in reaction. “What was that?”

  Marsh didn’t answer. Instead, he groaned and sank to his knees, his hand going to his left shoulder.

  “Marsh?” She grabbed for him. Unable to support his considerable weight, she went down with him.

  “I think I’m shot,” he managed as he hunched in on himself.

  Her stomach lurched. “What?” How could that be? “Where?”

  “My left shoulder.” He stared at the hand clamped over the area.

  Abby knelt in front of him, her back to the sea. She grabbed the lantern and turned it onto his shoulder. She swallowed against panic as she saw blood seeping between his fingers.

  “Turn that off,” he hissed. “Don’t make us any bigger a target than need be.”

  Abby flicked the switch on the light. “Someone shot you on purpose?” The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She searched the night, but the dark had become impenetrable, denser, full of unspecified, unseen terrors. “You mean he’s still out there?”

  Marsh sat, stunned and sweating. “Yeah.”

  “Then lie down so he can’t get you again!” She pushed him down onto the quilt, throwing herself down beside him. She stared up the beach toward the park with all its low-growing trees and shrubs, the perfect hiding place for someone evil enough to gun down an innocent man. She saw nothing except blackness. She looked up and down the beach, but there was no one except them. No enemy, thank goodness, but also no one to help. The family with the little ones had left when she wasn’t paying attention, but she thanked God they had. Of course if they hadn’t, maybe the shooting wouldn’t have happened.

  She grasped the knot in the handkerchief wrapped about her arm—how trivial that scratch now seemed—and worked it loose. She folded it into a square, pressing it against Marsh’s shoulder. He grimaced.

  “Sorry,” she whispered even as she saw the square become black immediately with his blood. What else could she use to staunch the hemorrhage? The quilt was too bulky. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, folded one sleeve, and pressed it as hard as she could against the front of Marsh’s shoulder. She folded and pressed the other sleeve against the back. He groaned at the pain but didn’t complain.

  Some sense of another near made the hairs on Abby’s neck rise. She looked up. She gave a choked scream at the sight of a man dressed entirely in black, wearing both a black ski mask and night vision goggles, standing a few yards away. He held a handgun pointing down his side.

  “Wha—?” Marsh tried to rise.

  “Shh. Don’t move. You’ll make it bleed more.”

  The man in black stared at them. At least Abby assumed that’s what he was doing. His face was toward them, his stance never changing, but the protruding goggles made him look more a movie alien than a man. He muttered a curse under his breath and began to raise the gun.

  “I won’t miss this time,” he whispered.

  Marsh twisted to see who was speaking even as Abby tried to hold him still. He groaned at the movement but persisted. When he saw the nightmare standing mere feet from them, he tensed. Then he sagged back against her in a faint.

  “Marsh!” She bent over him, the man in black forgotten. Oh, God, help me help him! When she touched his cheek, she was surprised to hear him whisper, “The lantern.”

  Of course. She reached for it as she watched the shooter raise the gun.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded, trying to infuse all the desperation she felt into her voice. “You don’t want to do this.”

  He laughed. “Ah,” he whispered, “but I do.”

  As he brought his arms straight in front of him to steady the gun, Abby hit the switch on the lantern. The strong beam of light, aimed straight at the night goggles, cut the darkness.

  “What the—” The gunman, blinded as the bright light caused the phosphorescent screen of the goggles to shut down, dropped his gun and grabbed at the goggles.

  As he did so, Abby surged to her feet. She rushed toward the man. Oh, Lord, make my footing sure!

  She swung the heavy flashlight with all her might. The dull thud as it connected with his skull made her nauseous. The man sank to his knees, then fell forward onto his face. She snatched the gun from the sand where he’d dropped it. She aimed it at him but knew there was no way she would ever be able to pull the trigger.

  “Shoot him in the leg,” Marsh prompted. “That will disable him.”

  She threw an agonized glance at Marsh. “I can’t! I just can’t.” She heaved the weapon as far as she could, wishing like never before that she didn’t throw like a girl. She heard the faint plop when it hit the ground. He’d never find it in the blackness. She would tell the police the general direction that she’d thrown it, and they’d come get it first thing in the morning before anyone else found it. They had metal detectors like Clooney’s, right?

  Marsh sighed. “The one time in my life I need a Colton West hero, and I have a softie, a beautiful softie.”

  “I just couldn’t do it. I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t, even though she knew she had put them back at risk.

  “It’s all right. But we need to get out of here before he comes to.” He tried to pull himself to his feet, got as far as his knees, and couldn’t go farther. He looked at Abby. “Run, tiger. Get help.”

  She knelt beside him. “I’m not leaving you here.” She wasn’t leaving him ever, as far as she was concerned. She draped his uninjured arm over her shoulders. “Come on. Up you go. You can do it.” She struggled to her feet, pulling him with her.

  Marsh tried to support himself, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He could do nothing but lean against her.

  Abby gazed in despair across the wide beach to the park and their car beyond that. Never could she manage Marsh’s weight for even a quarter of that distance. She looked in the opposite dire
ction. The water.

  She wrapped one arm about Marsh’s waist, pushing her shoulder into his uninjured armpit. She took a firmer grip of the uninjured arm draped across her shoulders. “We’re going swimming, guy. Help me get us into the water.”

  “What?” He lifted his head, staring at her, his eyes unfocused.

  She began her unsteady move into the sea. “Help me, Marsh. Help me!”

  He tried. He took several small steps before he fell to his knees in the shallows. She glanced back at their shooter. He was almost invisible in his black, but she could just make him out, kneeling in the sand, his head hanging. Any minute he’d stand and come after them again. He wouldn’t even need his gun to do in a wounded man and a lame woman. She dropped to her knees in front of Marsh.

  “Come on, sweetheart.” She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. “Come on. Just a little deeper. Then I can take care of you.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Can you hear me? Marsh?”

  He blinked at her, then leaned forward and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “I hear you, tiger.” His voice was so weak it frightened her.

  “Don’t you faint on me,” she hissed. “I need you to walk a bit farther.” A wave washed softly around their thighs. “Feel that? Just a little deeper. Come on now. Up you go!” She pulled both of them to their feet. “Come on, love. Step. Step. That’s the way. I knew you could do it.”

  Slowly, painfully, they made their way into the surf. Every other step Abby glanced back, expecting to find their pursuer crashing into the water behind them. She could just make out a deeper black form rising to its feet, staggering about. He was looking for his gun.

  Oh, God, help!

  A wave broke over Abby’s waist. At the same time Marsh collapsed. She grabbed at him as he went down, catching his collar. She lifted his face above the water, then tugged him close. She wrapped her arms across his chest, pulling his back against her front. She continued to back into the surf, dragging him with her. She needed to get beyond the breakers so they could move with greater ease. Thankfully undertow was not a consideration on a clear, calm night like tonight.