by Wendy Rosnau
He had been careful not to push her too hard in the work. He’d also been careful not to show his feelings too much. She was young, and he hadn’t wanted to scare her. But he often wrestled with the idea of telling her.
Secrets were the seeds to unhappiness. That’s what his father used to say. It would be good to share his feelings with her. It could bring them closer. Maybe she felt the same and she was just waiting for him to make the first move.
He needed her to love him as he loved her.
Otto walked past the flight schedule in the airport and saw a dozen delays. Thankful that none of them affected him, he headed for gate seven. His destination, Poland.
He raised the gray cashmere scarf and brushed it slowly across his cheek. Then brought it to his nose and inhaled sharply. Like a stiff snort of cocaine, the scent of sweet ginger and spice energized him and refueled his cause, as well as his love for Miss Pris.
Prisca woke up in a warm bed, the smell of bacon heavy in the air. She woke up slowly, groggy, aware she was sharing her pillow with something furry.
She sat up, startling awake whatever was sleeping next to her. The fur pile jumped up with a growl, and Prisca screamed.
The door burst open and that startled her, too, and she clutched the blanket to her bare breasts as a stranger appeared with a metal spatula in hand.
“What the hell is wrong?”
“That’s what’s wrong,” she hollered back, because he’d shouted the question at her.
“Weeko, dammit, Moon told you to stay out of here.”
“Weeko? What’s a weeko?”
“That’s her name.”
“What is she?”
“A raccoon. You’ve never seen one before?”
“No. Does it bite?”
“If she’s cornered. I’ve been bitten a few times.”
“Then get it out of here.”
The stranger scooped the raccoon under his arm and started out the door.
“Wait.”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Vic Krandle.”
“Moon’s friend?”
“That’s right. I worked on your leg last night. You don’t remember?”
“Vaguely.”
“That’s because I gave you a shot to put you out while I sutured your leg.”
Moon’s friend was average in weight and thin. He wore fashion jeans and a lemon-yellow sweater. He didn’t look like anyone Koko’s grandson would be friends with. He had a city flair about him, his hair short, and his hands looked as though they hadn’t ever been dirty once.
“Where’s Moon?”
“He left before dawn with the BLM to go back up to the crash site.”
“BLM?”
“Bureau of Land Management.”
Prisca stiffened. “They’re investigating the crash?”
“That, and bringing down the remains of Marty Stollen.”
Prisca looked away.
“Sorry. Billy mentioned he would be by to talk to you as soon as they got things settled on the mountain.”
“Today?”
“No, I don’t think so. Moon talked like he might not be back until tomorrow. But who knows. He said you don’t remember your name. Any change this morning?”
“No.”
Prisca turned and stared out the window, not wanting to remember anything about those terrifying minutes when she knew they were going to crash into the mountain.
“You all right?”
She looked back at Vic Krandle. “I’d like to get out of bed, but I need some clothes.”
“You didn’t come with clothes. I don’t know if you remember that or not, but don’t worry. We’ll get you some eventually. But for now, Moon left you a shirt of his.” He pointed to the red plaid flannel that hung on the log bedpost.
She eyed the shirt, then scowled at Vic. “That’s all there is?”
“Your left ankle is pretty swollen. You won’t be up and around for a while. Best to stay off it as much as possible.”
“I would prefer a doctor’s opinion on that.”
Pris was anxious to get out of there. If they were investigating the crash they might find her missing bag. Depending on how thorough they were, they might discover her secret.
“I’m a doctor, of sorts. A physical therapist, actually. But I spent a year’s internship in New York before I found my calling. There will be a scar on your leg, but I did my best.” He started for the door. “Moon will be back with Koko before long. Just sit tight, and don’t worry about anything. When the man gets back he’ll work on finding out who you are.”
“The man?”
He stopped and turned around. “Moon. I’ve learned over the months I’ve been here that there isn’t much he can’t do. Say, how old are you? You look pretty young.”
“I’m… I don’t remember.”
This game was getting too hard to play. She needed to escape, only how and when? If she had her cell phone she would break down and call Otto. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t have it with her. What would she tell him?
“Where am I?”
“Montana.” The raccoon started to squirm under his arm, and he dropped the animal outside the door and she scurried away.
“Yes, but where exactly?”
“On a lake called Two Medicine.”
“That doesn’t help much.”
“I guess we’re about a hundred miles south of the Canadian border.”
Canada. She was close to Canada. The thought revived her. That’s where she would escape to. Soon, very soon.
“I’m from D.C. I was planning on going home today. Moon showing up last night with you changed my plans. But I guess I don’t mind. This place has started to grow on me. The man, too. He’s ornery, but smarter than most, and tougher than anyone I’ve ever worked with.”
“Worked with?”
“He wasn’t ever supposed to walk again after his accident. I moved in to rehabilitate him.”
“Is that why he limps?”
“He was in a wheelchair for months, but he beat the odds. No surprise. As I said, he’s one tough sonofabitch. You hungry?”
“I could eat something.”
“I’ll bring you in a tray. Then we’ll talk about your injuries and what you can expect in the next few days.”
Jacy was relieved to see his grandmother at the crash site when he, Billy and Tate arrived with the BLM crew. They had followed the trail she had promised to leave for them.
He had been thinking about her, had worried all night—in between worrying about the woman who hadn’t let go of him the entire trip down the mountain.
He understood her concern for the young woman—Koko was a caring soul. More generous than anyone he knew. She took on the problems of the world as if they were her own. But he was pretty sure she hadn’t told him everything about her vision. She was keeping something to herself and he wanted to know why and what she was holding back.
He looked over the site. The plane was pretty much gone, scrap metal and charred ash smoldering in the crisp morning air. It would be hard to say what had caused the accident, but there would be a thorough investigation. The plane wasn’t that old, but it had seen a lot of miles, with mostly thrift maintenance. Any number of things could have caused the aircraft to go down.
“His distress call was generic,” Billy said. “He was losing altitude. Nothing more.”
The crew started to go to work, and Jacy limped over to his grandmother who sat cross-legged in front of a small fire with her eyes closed. He crouched down next to her and touched her shoulder. She blinked open her eyes and when she looked up at him, she smiled.
“Good to see you, Grandson. Our little bird is safe?”
“She’s at the cabin with Vic.” He studied Koko’s face, said, “So what’s going on? What haven’t you told me?”
“Things aren’t clear yet. I’m still seeing pictures in my mind. But I’m sure it will all make sense soon enough
.”
“Yesterday you seemed anxious to return to the crash site.”
“I did want to spend some time here, but sisttsi nan needed better care than I could give her, so I chose to start down the mountain. I didn’t want to leave Marty. His spirit was troubled.”
“Marty?”
“He was afraid at the end. I felt it. I have prayed for his spirit to take flight. For peace on his journey. He soars now with the eagles.”
Jacy fastened his eyes on a backpack. “And that?”
“It’s sisttsi nan’s bag. I found it over there.” Koko pointed a distance away from the airplane rubble. “It must have been thrown from the plane. Her personal things and clothes.”
Jacy stood and went to the pack. “Any ID?”
“No.”
Jacy unzipped the bag and rifled it. Koko was right, there was no identification.
“I searched the area after I found the bag, but I think everything else has been lost in the fire.”
“Billy’s crew will take over now. I’ve come to take you home if you’re ready.”
“Yes, I’m ready. And you’re sure your city boy, Vic, is taking care of our little bird?”
Jacy grinned. His grandmother didn’t think much of Vic Krandle, or his fancy equipment. The doctor turned sophisticated government physical therapist was smart, aggressive and not shy when it came to going head-to-head with Koko on modern medicine verses holistic alternatives.
“Vic says she’s going to be fine, thanks to you.”
Koko snorted. “At least he’s an honest man. Arrogant, but honest.”
She stood and pulled her thin coat around her, then retied her pink wool scarf. “We go home now. Marty’s at peace. My work here is done.” When she walked past Jacy, she touched his face. “Come, issohko. Take me home.”
Chapter 5
Prisca had awakened early to sit by the window. She had walked carefully to the rocker on her sprained ankle, the bandage on the front of her leg reminding her that she was lucky to be alive. That she hadn’t lost a limb.
Outside, snow was falling, the mountains in the distance were capped, and the secluded lake was a solid white body of ice. Montana reminded her of Austria, the rugged mountains making her homesick.
She heard the door open, and she said, “Whose room is this? I think it could use some color.”
She turned expecting to see Vic Krandle, but to her surprise it was Koko’s grandson who stood in the doorway.
He stepped into the room and tossed one of her bags on the bed. She glanced at it, mentally drawing a picture of what was inside.
“To answer your question, it’s my room. What color?”
“Maybe some green, or blue.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe all it needs is a bigger window to let in more light, and show off the view. In the summer the lake must be beautiful.”
“Are you staying until summer?”
He was very quick-witted—and intimidating. She hadn’t had any experience with other cultures. This man was an Indian. Koko had said they were Blackfeet.
This particular Indian had a square jaw, eyes a deeper brown than her own, and a flawless tan complexion.
He was the man, Vic had said. Sometimes ornery and always tough.
“How are you feeling?”
His eyes lowered to her legs. He studied the bandage, her wrapped swollen ankle, then his eyes started upward slowly taking in her bare knees and more.
She wore only his flannel shirt.
“Your friend stitched my leg.”
“I know. I stuck around, assisted and put you to bed afterward.”
She looked away, reminded that this stranger had seen her close to naked. She fidgeted in the rocking chair, feeling awkward.
To take her mind off her uncomfortable situation, she continued to talk. “Vic says I have twenty-four stitches and a sprained ankle. And of course, a mess of bruises. I feel every one of them, but I’m alive.”
“You were lucky.”
“Yes. A miracle.” The word brought her thoughts to Koko, and she looked past him expecting to see the old woman. “Where’s your grandmother?”
“Koko went home to sleep.”
“She doesn’t live here?”
“No.”
“I thought this was her home. She said something about living with her grandson.”
“She lives with Tate. They share a cabin across the lake.”
“Tate?”
“My brother.” He motioned to her bag. “I looked through your personal effects. There’s no ID. Do you remember anything yet? Your name.”
“No, I don’t remember anything…yet.”
“No one has come forward inquiring about a missing person, but it’s still early.”
“What are you telling me? That I have no one who cares about me?”
“I’m not telling you anything. Maybe no one expects you to check in yet. A family member or friend.” He shrugged out of his coat and she found herself scanning his body much as he had done hers moments ago. He was solid and muscular. Above average in height, there was substance to his shoulders. His thighs filled out his jeans, and when he turned to hang the heavy winter coat on the bedpost, she saw that he compensated for what appeared to be a stiff knee.
He removed his hat, and hooked it on the post over his coat. His hair was shiny and longer than she had imagined it would be. It complemented his sharp good looks and the comfortable style of his clothes. He looked like a free spirit, and a man of experience in the games of survival.
She had never imagined she would be one of those same people—a survivor. She’d been raised with little adversity in her life until a few months ago. But then tragedy had struck, and at age nineteen she’d been forced to step into her father’s shoes—her life suddenly mapped out in a way she would never have imagined. Not out of want, but out of survival, loyalty and love.
“Once the reports are made and the newspapers get their stories out, someone will come forward,” he said.
No one would come forward. Otto was the only person who would be looking for her, and he didn’t know where to start. But Pris nodded anyway, his comment needing some form of answer.
Otto had told her that she was perfect for this game. She realized now she would have to keep playing, and at the moment, the game required her to look innocent and vulnerable.
After all, she had lost her memory, right?
A young woman this beautiful certainly had someone somewhere worrying about her, Jacy thought. Parents expecting a call, or a close friend. A regular boyfriend to check in with.
“Like I said, I went through your bag looking for some kind of identification. I suppose that bag went up in flames.”
He turned to look at her, and she offered him an innocent expression. Why did he get the feeling she was holding something back?
“Vic said you didn’t eat much for breakfast. You’re not one of those vegetarians are you?”
“I wasn’t overly hungry. Where is the closest town?”
“Going somewhere?”
“I’d like to.”
“Why? You don’t know who you are, or where you came from. Seems pointless at the moment to strike out on your own when you can’t even walk.”
She took offense to that. She sucked hard on the inside of her left cheek, turned to look out the window.
“I can walk,” she said softly. “I got out of bed without falling on my face.”
“Vic says you should stay off your feet as much as possible. At least for the next few days. That is if you don’t want to pop those stitches. That cut on your leg was bone deep. Vic worked over an hour to minimize the scar.”
She looked back at him. “I’m not your problem, or Vic’s.”
“I have plenty of room here.”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“I’ll let you know when you are.”
“You said this is your room. I couldn’t put you out.”
“You already have, and I don’t lo
ok upset, do I? But I have two other bedrooms down the hall. I believe one has a green bedspread. I’ll tell Vic to move you after lunch.”
Jacy didn’t let her argue. He walked out before another word could be exchanged. But not before he let his eyes drift over her slender figure. She certainly gave a man a lot to think about, and he wasn’t talking about the crash or her memory loss.
He didn’t like houseguests, and as far as women went, he could count on one hand how many had stayed overnight here. Some of them would have liked to put down roots, but he was worse than Tate when it came to being a rolling stone.
So why didn’t he want her to leave? He could set her up in a motel in Browning and give her Billy’s number.
No. He wouldn’t do that because something wasn’t right about this. He felt it, and he never ignored his gut instincts.
Like Koko’s visions, his gut was seldom wrong.
While Vic was dancing around the kitchen making Koko’s recipe for huckleberry pie, and moving their guest in to the room with the green bedspread, Jacy called Billy. He wanted to know if there had been any news about who the mystery woman was who had fallen out of the sky.
“Sorry, Moon, but I went through Marty’s office paper by paper. I didn’t find a thing. Not that I expected to. Marty was never much of a housekeeper, or a bookkeeper. His office needed an update as badly as his airplane. No records on flight plans, no receipts. Nothing.”
Like Billy, Jacy had expected as much. “And no one has called about a missing relative or employee?”
“No. Got any ideas?”
“Not at the moment.”
“She still brain-dead?”
Jacy heard Billy chuckle over the phone. “No memory yet.”
“I’d like to question her. You think she’d be up to a few tonight?”
“I think so.”
“After supper?”
“Seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
When Jacy hung up the phone, he saw Vic standing in the doorway of his office. “What’s up?”
Vic walked in and sat on the leather sofa. “I got a call from headquarters. They want to know when I’ll be back. I delayed leaving yesterday, but it seems they really need me in D.C. I told them I’d get back to them within the hour. What do you think?”