by Donna Alward
Abby tried to move her legs and winced. Her knees hurt and there was a long scratch down her thigh that was bleeding.
“Help!” she called, then slumped against some broken timbers. No one would hear her up here. No one knew where she was.
No one cared.
And she had no one to blame for that but herself. It was her own fault she kept everyone at arm’s length, never letting them close enough to truly be a part of her life. Too scared to let them in only to have them leave again. Except being alone all the time pretty much sucked.
“Abby?”
She must have hit her head, because she would swear she heard Tom’s voice calling her name. Tom. Just thinking about him made something warm and tingly flutter in her belly, like little winged butterflies. She cared for him far more than she could ever let on. If she regretted one thing, it was stopping him from making love to her that morning. He would have been patient and gentle and thorough. The kind of lover she needed, and she’d pushed him away.
He was the sort of man who loved deeply and forever, wasn’t he? She could have had just a taste of that, to know just once what it was like to be the focus of all that intense devotion. Maybe it wouldn’t have been real and it probably wouldn’t have lasted, but it would have been enough.
“Abby! Please answer me! Are you in there?”
Okay, so that wasn’t just her name she heard, but his voice making demands. Hope spiraled through her heart. “I’m in here!” she called back, pushing herself to a sitting position with a wince. God, she seemed to hurt all over.
There was the sound of boards being moved aside and his panicked voice again. “Abs? Where are you?”
The relief at knowing it was truly him was so great that she started crying. “I’m over here. Be careful. There are boards everywhere and I don’t know how stable things are.”
“Hang on. I’ll be careful. Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Keep talking. I’ll be there before you know it.”
She got herself together a little. “Tom?”
“Yeah, honey?”
She almost wept at the endearment. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”
There was a ripping sound and one of the boards closing her off from the entrance was pulled away. She could see his work boots and she started to laugh through her tears. How she loved those damned boots.
He knelt and peered through the gap. “Hang in there. I’m going to move these and get you out, but I have to be careful. I don’t want to make the rest come down.”
“Like a game of Jenga,” she responded. Pain from the gash was starting to radiate up her leg and she winced.
“Exactly.”
When he’d created a big enough hole, he held out his hand. “Can you make it over here? I’ll pull you out.”
She put down her hands to crawl to the opening, but the moment her knees touched the floor she cried out.
“I can’t,” she answered, breathless with pain that felt like needles sticking through her kneecaps.
“Go on your butt,” he suggested calmly, “and slide over. If I can get my hands under your armpits, you’ll slip right out.”
It took a while but she managed to scoot over to the opening. Tom’s hands were sure and strong as he anchored them under her arms and pulled her free. When she was out, he picked her up and gathered her in a strong embrace.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to his solid, reassuring bulk. “I’ve never been so glad to hear your voice,” she whispered, her voice clogged with tears. “The lightning hit and it felt like the whole thing exploded.”
“It did.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
He started walking down the hill, away from the ruin of the barn. “Your car and purse were at home. I didn’t pass you on the road on the way to the house, so it only made sense that you’d go up.”
“For once I am very glad of your common sense and powers of deduction.” As much as she enjoyed being cradled in his arms, she felt silly. “Tom, put me down. I can walk.”
His eyes skittered away from hers, evading the command. “It’s okay, I can carry you.”
“But…”
“Indulge me, okay? I left the truck by the gate. It’s not far.” He grinned. “Let me be a knight in shining armor for once.”
The hail had passed and now they were being soaked by a steady rain. Before long Abby could see the truck, and Tom wasted no time going to the passenger side. “Can you open the door?”
She pulled on the handle and he deposited her on the seat, slammed the door again, and jogged around to the other side.
“Out of the rain, at least,” she mused, marveling that she could manage to make such a mundane comment when she’d nearly died just minutes earlier. Reality felt very surreal and skewed at the moment.
Tom’s gaze pierced her, making her feel strange as he started the truck and cranked on the heater. “Take off your hoodie,” he commanded, reaching into the back. He held up an old sweatshirt, a heavy navy thing with the words GONE FISHIN emblazoned on it in gold.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“You’re soaking wet and probably in shock. Take off your shirt or I’ll do it for you, Abby.”
She fumbled with the zipper and sleeves, the wet material clinging to her skin. Beneath the hoodie her T-shirt was also wet. “That one, too,” he said.
“Tom, I…”
Sympathy softened his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, gentling his tone. He reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, easing it down her arms. There was nothing sexual about it, just tender caring. He held out the sweatshirt, making it easier for her to put her arms in the sleeves and pull it over her head. It was enormous on her much smaller frame, but it was soft and warm and smelled of lumber.
He put the truck in gear and turned around, pointing them down the hill again. Abby curled into the sweatshirt, relieved that the heater in the truck was working. She didn’t understand why she was so cold.
And then she remembered her leg.
“Your seat!” she exclaimed, looking down. The blood flow had slowed, but there was still a rusty-red streak on the beige upholstery.
But that wasn’t the worst. She finally saw her knees and the sight of the raw skin stubbled with splinters sent sickening tingles from her stomach right down the backs of her legs to her toes. This was why he hadn’t let her try walking.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said quietly.
“Are you sure?”
He went right by her driveway and kept on going toward town.
Was it so bad then that he was taking her to the doctor? She bit down on her lip. “My purse and everything is at the house.”
“The storm knocked the power out,” he explained. “We’re going to my place. Even if there’s no power there either, I have a generator.”
She laughed shortly. “Of course you do.”
Now that she’d seen her knees it seemed they started stinging worse. She spent the remainder of the drive with her eyes closed, trying to breathe evenly. But when she closed her eyes, she saw Kristian’s frightened face just as the walls started tumbling down. And she heard Tom’s voice calling her name and it seemed to make her heart expand and warm all at once.
It was better if she kept her eyes open after all.
“I finally got through the rest of the attic stuff,” she said, the idea taking her mind off the pain.
“Find anything interesting?” he asked.
They’d left things in a bad way between them, with a reluctant truce. And yet Abby still trusted him. He’d been with her through this whole journey and it seemed strange, not giving him the whole story. “I found a little chest. It was a pile of Edith’s personal things. Makeup, hairbrushes, books … her diary.”
For a moment Tom looked over at her, his gaze sharp. “A diary, huh?”
“The lock was broken off it. If
Elijah did that, he would have been livid after reading it. He was not a nice man, Tom.”
“So we gathered.”
She took a breath, let it out slowly, trying to ease the stabbing in her knees. “Remember I said I saw a suitcase in my … well, let’s call it my vision. There was a letter to Edith’s parents that she never got to give them. She was planning on leaving him that night. On V-E Day. She was taking the kids and meeting Kristian and leaving. Only she never got the chance.”
“Are you serious?” Tom’s eyebrows lifted and once again he took his eyes off the road and looked over. “Where were they going to go?”
“That’s the thing.” She felt odd just speaking about it. The very idea was so fantastic, so surreal. “It seems Kristian wasn’t who he seemed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he wasn’t just the chauffeur. He was put here to do a job. For the Third Reich.”
Tom started to laugh. “Okay, are you sure you didn’t hit your head? Your imagination is running away with you. Are you saying he was a spy? Here in Jewell Cove?” He laughed again.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can read her diary if you want. Edith uncovered a secret meeting in the barn that nearly killed me just now.”
The mirth left his face. “Holy shit. You’re serious.”
“Completely. What is really crazy is that he gave it all up and turned spy for the Americans.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Each time he left it was to protect her, you know? Until the last time when he returned to take her away for good.
“Edith had the courage to choose love, no matter how wrong it might have been.” Tom shook his head. “I’m not sure if that’s wonderful or selfish.”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure there is always a right and a wrong, Tom. Elijah was not the husband he should have been. He’d dishonored their vows long before she met Kristian. He was a tyrant who insisted on having his way in all things.” She shuddered. “Their lives shattered that night. She died. The girls were split up, and Edith’s parents raised Gram as their own. I wonder if Elijah threatened to reveal Iris’s true parentage to the world if they ever tried to make contact with Jewell Cove again. It just doesn’t make sense that they would never tell Gram about her sister or mother unless something was holding them back. After what I read, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”
Abby was pulled from her thoughts, when Tom turned into his gravel driveway. She’d never actually been to his cottage before. It was off the main road in an inlet called Fiddler’s Rock, a few miles south of Jewell Cove, not marked by any road signs but known to the locals by the simple landmark. His cottage was nestled in among a stand of trees with glimpses of the water just visible between the branches.
Tom jumped out of the truck and came around to open her door. He eased her down out of the cab and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the tiny house.
The power was still on, so he flicked on a light and carried her straight through to the small kitchen, pulling out a chair at the drop-leaf table. “Sit here. I’m going for the first-aid kit,” he said.
She took a minute to look around. She was sure the table and chairs were handcrafted. The furniture was simple but cozy, and the windows looking over the water were left uncovered so the view remained unimpeded. It was the kind of place that suited him perfectly—sturdy and plain and ruggedly beautiful.
He came back with a basin of water and a kit, which he put on the table. “You hurt anywhere else but your legs?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. My hoodie covered a lot.”
He went to the cupboard and took out a glass, filled it with water and brought it to the table along with a bottle of pain relievers. “Take two of those. I’m guessing you’re going to be hurting later.”
As she obediently took the pills he cleaned along her cut with a soft cloth. “This isn’t deep,” he said. “Not enough for stitches. I’m going to bandage it up though, to keep it clean.”
It wasn’t until he went to work on her knees that she gritted her teeth, inhaling with a hiss.
First he sprayed them with an antiseptic to dull the pain and get rid of any dirt. “I’m sorry, Abs. This probably isn’t going to be pleasant.”
“Just get them out,” she said tightly, bracing herself. Dragging herself to the door as the building fell had left several splinters and scrapes along her knees. As gently as he could, he employed the tweezers in the kit to remove the splinters. One by one he plucked them out, each one leaving a little pocket of relief in its wake. Blood oozed in a thin layer from the raw skin as she breathed through her clenched teeth. It seemed to take forever, but he attended to her carefully, patiently, calmly. Her head was hanging over the back of the chair when he finished with the first knee and she wished it were all over. But there was still one more to go, and by the time he got to the last splinters of wood she was close to crying again. The tweezers dug into her flesh to grip a particularly deep shard and she bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood.
She flinched as he dabbed at the torn skin, cleaning out any remaining dirt. “I think I got them all,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I know it hurt.”
He put squares of gauze over the cuts and used surgical tape to hold them in place. “They’ll sting for a while, but once they scab over you’ll be fine.”
“Pretty,” she breathed.
“You got off lucky,” he replied, standing and gathering bits of bandage and tape to put in the garbage.
“I know I did,” she answered, finally relaxing her neck. She put her hand on Tom’s wrist, halting it from picking up the tweezers. “Lucky that I wasn’t killed when the barn came down. And lucky that you were there to pull me out. I can’t ever thank you enough, Tom. I was so scared.” Her lip wobbled. “Why is it that you are always there when I’m scared?”
He put down the tweezers. “Maybe I’m supposed to be. Have you thought of that?”
His hand stroked along her arm and she shivered. Right now it seemed like too much to think about. Everything felt overwhelming, thoughts crowding on top of other thoughts until they were a big jumbled mess.
“You’re still cold. Now that your knees are fixed, let’s get you into something warmer.”
He’d misread the reason for her shiver, but she didn’t mind. He came back with a pair of gray sweatpants and handed them over with a crooked smile. “I’m afraid this is all I have.”
She shrugged. “They’ll do.” The cuffs of her shorts were wet and chafed her thighs. She was already starting to feel stiffness in her arms and back, but she stood and began to unbutton her shorts. “Turn around, okay?”
His dark eyes shone at her for a moment before he smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
He turned around, and stoically holding in any sounds of pain, she managed to shove her shorts down over her ankles, step out of them, and into the sweats. They were very baggy and she had to pull the drawstring in as tight as it would go, but she did feel better. “Okay,” she said, gingerly bending to pick up the damp shorts.
“I’ll throw them in the dryer with your shirt,” he suggested, and disappeared.
When he came back, she had gone to the window and was staring out over the water. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against the hard wall of his chest. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he murmured.
“I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to go for a run.”
“To avoid the house because you knew I was coming.”
She turned, looking up into his face. There was real pain in his features. He truly had been worried about her. And it hurt him to think that she’d rather be caught in a thunderstorm than in the same house with him.
He’d saved her today. Despite their screwed-up relationship, he’d searched for her and pulled her out and doctored her wounds with gentleness.
Abby sighed, resting her forehead on his broad chest. She was in love with him, she finally admitted to herself. And it was
n’t just because he’d rescued her but because the very act of it had showed her the kind of man he was. He was the one she went to with her secrets. It didn’t matter anymore that his heart belonged to someone else and probably always would. That was completely separate from the demands of her heart. And right now hers was telling her that Tom was the most amazing thing to ever happen to her. It was, in that moment, the most thrilling and terrifying realization of her life.
“I wasn’t running away from you,” she said, reaching up and touching his face. “I just needed to clear my head.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. But maybe it’s time you do. Can we sit down?”
Her knees ached as she followed him to the sofa. The cushions were deep and thick and she sank into them with a sigh. His cottage wasn’t big but it was cozy. She thought she could probably sit here and watch the birds and the ocean for hours.
“This place suits you, you know. Peaceful. A good place to hide away from the world.”
“You know me too well.” He sat beside her and tucked one foot beneath him so he was half turned in her direction. “And sometimes I feel like I don’t know you at all.”
“And I feel like you know me better than anyone I’ve ever met.” She smiled a little. “I’m being cryptic, aren’t I?”
“A bit.”
She looked down at her lap. “You’ve been very open with me, Tom, far more than I’ve been with you.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “You told me about Erin, and that couldn’t have been easy. I trust you, and that’s something very new for me. And more than a bit scary.”
Their fingers were still joined and she rubbed her thumb over the warm, rough skin of his hand. Tom had working hands. Caring hands. Strong hands that had pulled her from danger. Hands that had touched her skin and set her on fire. She lifted his hand and pressed his palm to her lips.
“I’ve never really had what you’d call a stable home life. When my father died, my whole world got turned upside down. My mother ran out on us when I was just a baby, so when she got custody of me, I had no stability. We were always moving around. I didn’t make many friends because I knew I wouldn’t have them for long. I blended in. I missed my father so much, but Mom didn’t want to hear it. She just wanted to have fun and a kid didn’t really fit the image she was going for. I tried running away once and social services put me in foster care for a short while before sending me back to my mom. God, she was so angry that I’d drawn any attention to us.”