Saved by the Montana Hero

by Vella Munn

  “No,” she whispered. “They can’t. Sometimes they simply want to see how another animal, and that’s what we humans are to them, will react to a predator’s presence. Except for man, they have no natural enemies. They’re at the top of the food chain and know it.”

  “You really have been studying up on them.” She was going to get a crick in her neck from looking up at him and probably was waiting for him to sit down, but if he did, leaving would be harder.

  Listening to the enthusiasm in her voice, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  More importantly, he didn’t know how to handle her impact on him.

  “They’re fascinating.” She worried the coat’s neckline. “The more I learn, the more I want to know. There’s a lot of taking sides where controlling wolf populations is concerned and I see merit in where everyone is coming from, even those who want them eradicated.”

  “You do?”

  “I didn’t say I agree. I just understand what motivates the anti-wolf folks.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Say, I left a couple of hamburger patties inside the dog house. I thought maybe that would attract Shadow and that he might not get spooked if I wasn’t too close.”

  Oh, yes, Shadow. He hadn’t thought about the dog all day. Fortunately, Shadow was easier than trying to comprehend Kolina’s effect on him.

  “I’m trying to remember,” she said as her attention went from him to the settling sun. “How many dogs my mother and I had while I was growing up. She’d find one wandering loose and bring it home but we usually lived where they didn’t allow dogs.” She closed her eyes. “After a few days of the dog living with us, she’d say she couldn’t afford it and take it to the pound, but I knew the real reason she let it go.”

  This was no casual comment. Kolina was pulling something out of a place deep inside her.

  “My mother didn’t handle responsibility well. Never did. She had the best of intentions; at least she believed they were good. Then it would get to the actual doing and—I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  She’d opened her eyes at the end. There wasn’t enough light for him to be sure, but they looked duller than they’d been a little while ago.

  “So it was just your mother and you?”

  She stood and walked to the steps but didn’t descend. He stared at her back, remembering how he’d tended to her last night. The feel of her. His male response. It would happen again if he wasn’t careful.

  “My mother was seventeen when I was born.”

  “Wow. Little more than a child herself.”

  “Yes. At first we lived with an aunt and uncle but the arrangement only lasted about a year. After that she was on her own.”

  A girl trying to raise a baby. Much as he wanted the pieces filled in, he didn’t press. At the same time he was anxious to change the subject. Otherwise, he risked getting more invested in her life.

  “She did a good job,” he came up with.

  She turned back toward him. “Did she? Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  But maybe she should. Darn it, why couldn’t he figure out what to do or say and was it possible to provide her with what she needed without becoming emotionally involved?

  “Is Melinda having any luck finding another waitress?” he asked.

  “What? She’s going to interview a couple of women tomorrow. She says the hardest part is finding someone willing to live here. Funny, that didn’t bother me.”

  That was what Rey had pressed him about during his preemployment interview. Was he sure he was prepared to stay indefinitely in a claustrophobia-inducing, single-wide trailer far from city amenities? The question probably would have given him pause if he hadn’t come to Lake Serene the day before and pitched a tent in the campground. He’d spent hours familiarizing himself with the area. He’d even rented a boat and tried his hand at fishing. Doing so had awakened memories of when his father and he had fished together while he was growing up. The one night in the campground allowed him to be honest with Rey. He’d wanted to make Lake Serene his home for the short term.

  But that was then. Tonight he wasn’t sure how he felt. Things had gotten complicated because of a waitress with a bum shoulder.

  “At least Melinda didn’t have to try to convince me of Lake Serene’s charms,” she said. “Except for the mosquitoes, I’ve loved every minute of spring and summer. That’s what makes…”

  She’d gone as far as she intended to, and he wasn’t going to push for more. Now that he’d told her about his day, maybe he should leave. On the other hand, he could show her the pictures but for that to happen, they’d have to be close to each other. They might even have to go into her place.

  Shut out the world.

  She returned to her chair and sat. Then she started rubbing her thighs. Needing something, anything to do beside watch her, he sat and positioned his chair for the best view of the lake. It looked so peaceful, simple.

  “Long day?” he asked when she kept rubbing.

  “No more than usual. I was on my feet the whole time.”

  “What about your shoulder?”

  There wasn’t enough of the day left to afford him a real look at her smile, but he sensed it. “It feels better than it has for awhile. Whoever taught you how to give massages did a great job.”

  “A nurse did.” No way was he going to explain further tonight. “So, no sign of Shadow?”

  She sighed. “None. Part of why I’m out here is because, if he happens to be around, I’m hoping he’ll get used to me.”

  “Maybe his owner showed up. Just because we haven’t heard anything—”

  “I know. As long as he’s all right, I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you need a pet that’s easier to take care of.”

  “Like what?”

  “Hmm. How about dragonflies?”

  “I haven’t seen any in several weeks. I don’t think their lifespan is very long.”

  “Probably not. How about a bear?” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Granted, they eat a lot but they’re in hibernation all winter.”

  “They’re too big to fit in a doghouse.”

  “Good point. I’m a little out of my depth because prior to coming here, the only so-called wild animals I was in close contact with were raccoons and mice.”

  “What?”

  “The raccoons and mice were my mother’s doing.” He thought about changing the subject to something that didn’t involve his parents but between his long day and Kolina’s presence, his brain wasn’t at its best. “She put dog food on the back steps to feed a mother raccoon and her sweet little babies as she called them. Then word spread among the raccoon population. By the time I put a stop to things, I’d counted twenty of the buggers fighting over a single bowl. That kind of creeped me out.”

  “Twenty. I bet your mother was sorry she’d started what she had.”

  Say it. Let her know a little about your past. “She was overwhelmed but not sorry. My mother had cancer. She was in a lot of pain.” He briefly couldn’t speak as memories of his mother’s slow fade overwhelmed him. “Watching raccoons distracted her. I hated having to get rid of the dog food, but raccoons often carry diseases. Also there were a lot of pets in the neighborhood. The raccoons didn’t get along with them.”

  “Did she…”

  “Die? Yes. Not quite two years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. I, ah, I don’t know what else to say. It sounds as if you were nearby and able to help out.”

  “I wasn’t nearby. I was living with my folks.”

  “Oh.”

  Yes, oh. Only he couldn’t leave it like that. “I mentioned that I went to college for a couple of years.” He spoke without looking at her.

  “Yes.”

  “The reason why I left—Dad had had a stroke.”

  “Oh, my gosh. Talk about being hit with a lot.”

  More than a lot. Overwhelmed. “The stroke nearly killed him and left him with only minimal use of his right sid
e.” He fought to stay in the present. “He was in a wheelchair, learning how to speak again when Mom was diagnosed.”

  “Oh, Terron.”

  Keep going. Get it all out. “I’m an only child. Obviously, Mom couldn’t take care of Dad by herself. Even if we were willing to go that route, which none of us wanted, there wasn’t enough money for him to live in a nursing home.”

  “So you moved back home?”

  He nodded. It was now nearly dark with only a few lights from nearby rental units to penetrate the night. At times like this he wondered if he was becoming part of his surroundings, but it was different tonight because he wasn’t spending it alone. Being near Kolina made concentrating on anything other than her difficult.

  He should have gone to his place where he wouldn’t have to pull out the past and relive it.

  Wouldn’t have to try to make sense of how he felt about her.

  “Terron?”

  “What?”

  “You’re quiet. If you’re thinking I don’t want to hear this, I do.”

  But I don’t want to say anything. “I was just—trying to put it all together. They didn’t want me putting my life on hold, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could for them.”

  “Of course not. Your presence must have made a big difference.”

  “It did. With me there, Dad was able to get to his physical therapy and speech sessions. In time, he graduated from a wheelchair to a walker.”

  “What about his speech?”

  Her question was simple yet he heard the compassion behind it. He didn’t want her feeling sorry for him or his parents but wouldn’t he have the same reaction if things were reversed?

  “It got to where Mom and I could understand him. His mind was intact, which in some respects made it even more difficult.”

  “How awful.”

  For all of us. “Dad was aware of everything he’d lost, his limitations, his dependency on Mom and me. He never regained use of his right arm.”

  “What about—tell me if I’m asking things that aren’t any of my business—but what about finances? How did the three of you pay the bills?”

  Various family members, his dad’s three sisters in particular, had wanted financial details, but his folks and he had decided to keep that part of their lives private. Now for reasons he wouldn’t examine too closely, he wanted Kolina to know.

  He might regret it tomorrow.

  “I got Dad approved for disability benefits plus he’d worked for the utility company long enough to qualify for an early pension. Unfortunately, the insurance he had when he first had his stroke didn’t cover all of his medical and physical therapy expenses.”

  “Oh, boy. The hits kept coming, didn’t they?”

  “Pretty much.” He could get to his feet and head for his truck. Not say a word. Let her try to figure out what he was thinking. “Mom had been working part-time, but she quit when Dad had his stroke. I got on at the high school. It wasn’t full-time, which was what I wanted. I could be there to get Dad going in the morning and give Mom a break late afternoons and evenings. We pinched a lot of pennies.”

  “Then your mother got sick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have to quit working to take care of her?”

  Don’t push me. But he wanted her to do just that; needed her asking her softly-spoken compassionate questions. Not feeling so alone like he had during that time.

  “Not until the last three months of her life, but I worried every minute I wasn’t with them. By then Dad had been disabled for going on four years. He asked me and the doctors if Mom’s worrying about him might have contributed to her getting cancer.”

  “Oh, Terron. How hard for him, and you. I hope you were able to ease his mind.”

  “I tried.” When I wasn’t so tired and stressed I couldn’t think.

  “So…” She stood and made her way to the railing. She faced him, but he couldn’t see her expression. He was glad his features were in the dark.

  “So your dad outlived your mother? I’m sorry. This too is none of my business plus I’m no good at this sort of thing.”

  What sort of thing? And why couldn’t they have a simple conversation, a simple relationship? Just be friends.

  “Dad made it another six months. Then he had another stroke.”

  “And that one killed him?”

  “He died the night he had it. About an hour after I got him to the hospital.”

  She was standing over him before it registered that she’d moved. Her warm hands rested on his shoulders and her legs pressed against his knees. He felt deeply alive. Connected. Back in the present.

  In new territory.

  “You’ve been through so much,” she whispered. “Losing both of your parents like that, you must have loved them deeply to have done what you did.”

  He wasn’t a martyr, he’d never think of himself like that. His parents had given him everything a child could ever need with love first on the list. He’d wanted to do the same.

  “They were good people.”

  “I know they were.” She leaned closer so he felt her breath on his upturned face. “You’re proof.”

  “I’m not perfect. There were times when I resented…”

  “Of course you did.” She touched her lips to his forehead. “You’re human.”

  As difficult as it was, he lifted her hands off him and placed them at her sides. The gesture didn’t do enough to clear his mind.

  “What? Did I do—”

  “You did nothing wrong, but we don’t dare continue like this. At least I don’t.”

  Chapter Nine

  Terron hadn’t explained what he’d meant by this but Kolina didn’t need him to. She shouldn’t have approached him let alone kiss his forehead. Any other time, any other setting, she wouldn’t have, but it had been just the two of them in the dark with Lake Serene a short walk away and him telling her things maybe no one else here knew.

  “He’s a good man,” she muttered as she threw back her blanket. “The way he put his parents before himself…”

  Sighing, she sat and reached for the bathrobe she kept at the foot of the bed. She slipped her feet into her slippers then put on the robe she’d picked up at a second hand store. No matter how tired she was, and she was, she wasn’t going to get any sleep. She might as well go outside. If there weren’t too many clouds, maybe she could identify some of the constellations. She’d probably get chilled enough that she’d want to crawl back under the covers and at least relax a little.

  But first she’d look for Shadow. She kept a pen flashlight in her pocket but wouldn’t need it unless she ventured off the porch. For now she’d sit in the chair Terron had warmed.

  They weren’t enough alike.

  There, she acknowledged as she tucked the robe around her legs, that was what was keeping her awake. Terron came from a close-knit and loving family. He’d willingly sacrificed a great deal to care for his parents which was something she could never imagine herself doing.

  “No need to mentally put myself in that position,” she muttered. “No one needs me.” By no one she meant her mother since she didn’t know who her father was, had no siblings, and was lacking in relatives who gave a damn about her. According to her mother, her grandparents had all but washed their hands of their rebellious daughter by the time she’d gotten pregnant. As the second youngest of six children, her mother would have had to wait in line for attention which was something she’d long before given up on.

  Would Terron understand why she couldn’t fathom taking care of her mother? For one, her mother had finally gotten married, and she didn’t know where she was. The last she’d heard, Mom and Bob—it was Bob wasn’t it?—were living in a fifth wheel and often on the road depending on where they found work.

  “She’s staying true to form,” Kolina told any bats that might be out. “Mom always had a wanderlust. I was just a possession to haul along.”

  Don
’t feel sorry for yourself. Life was what it was, her childhood had been what it had, and her mother had loved her as much as she was capable of. Kolina was alive and well. If she hadn’t been talking to a man who comprehended what the term family ties meant with every fiber of his being, she wouldn’t be reliving her less than perfect past.

  Why had Terron told her what he had?

  There. That was what she should be trying to answer. If he hadn’t been so forthright and vulnerable, she wouldn’t have kissed him. But he had and she had and there they were.

  They weren’t strangers. Something was starting to take place between them, a getting to know each other with sensual undertones. She knew how to go through life as a one. Granted, she’d once brought a man into her world—or rather she’d entered his—but death, among other things, had put an end to that.

  She was back to being what she understood.

  Even with the robe, cold was settling over her shoulders and making her right one throb. She could hardly call Terron and ask for a middle of the night massage so should go back inside before the darned shoulder locked up or something. Last night the temperature had dropped enough that there’d been a skim of ice in the bucket someone had placed under a faucet behind the restaurant to catch the occasional drip. She’d left a water bowl next to Shadow’s house. Come morning she’d check to see if it had iced over.

  Was Shadow warm?

  Concern got her to her feet and down the stairs. Her slippers skidded on the last step, prompting her to grab the cold railing. She’d checked the house Terron had built more times than she wanted to admit but hadn’t given up hoping Shadow would find it. Neither were her hopes too high.

  The dog house was just around the corner of her unit and dimly lit, but she still pulled the pen light out of her pocket and turned it on. Icy dew glistened on the ground. She hadn’t checked to see what time it was but guessed it was around two.

  Feeling as if she had the world to herself was a familiar sensation. She was part of her environment, connected to the agelessness that was the wilderness. If she had her way, she wouldn’t be spending huge chunks of her days in the restaurant, but she didn’t for a minute regret living here. Maybe she’d change her mind about staying at Lake Serene once winter arrived but—