Bittersweet: Can she rebuild her life?

by Lyz Kelley

  With a nod, Ellie shuffled across the cabin floor towards the door.

  This place needs warmth.

  Leza knelt by the fireplace, and jammed a dried pine cone under one of the logs, along with slivers of wood. Thank goodness she was right-handed. Otherwise she didn’t think lighting a match would be possible. She didn’t want to look at her arm, but from what she could see, her wrist had doubled in size.

  No time to worry about broken wrists, scrapes, or bruises. She needed to take inventory.

  A wooden cedar chest the size of a large suitcase held men’s extra-large clothing. And she found a few cans of soup, pasta, and some rice in sealed containers in the cabinets. A stack of dried wood sat outside the back door. The situation could have been worse. Much, much worse.

  A few minutes later Ellie came back inside carrying a log and tinder, and Leza gestured for her to drop the wood in a pile by the door. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” She lifted the flannel shirt she’d found. “Put this on, then warm up under the covers.” She folded back the double wool blanket to find flannel sheets, and she silently blessed and thanked the owner of the cabin for his or her foresight.

  Ellie stripped off her clothes while Leza stoked the fire and then searched for a can opener to start some soup. Personally, she hated tomato soup, but today she’d relish each spoonful.

  With a warm pan of soup in hand, she gently lowered to the cot, where Ellie and Gunther had curled themselves together for warmth.

  Leza blew on the liquid and tasted the fruity broth, making sure the thick soup wasn’t too hot. “Here, try this.”

  Ellie sat up. “What is it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  The first giggle of the day brightened the small space. “No. I guess it doesn’t. I’m starved.”

  Leza closed her senses against the pain and weariness. Too tired to eat, she let Ellie scarf most of the soup.

  When Ellie scraped the bottom of the pan, her eyes popped open wider. “Ohhh. What will Gunther eat?”

  “He’ll be okay for tonight. He drank water when we stopped at the creek.”

  Ellie handed her the empty pan and snuggled back under the covers. “Before I forget, thank you for finding me.”

  “There are a lot of people looking for you.” Ellie’s cheeks splashed red, and she curled into a smaller ball. Leza placed a hand on Ellie’s hip. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. We were all worried, that’s all.” She stroked Ellie’s leg. “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  “Gunther wanted out,” her voice was quiet and small. “I couldn’t wake Heath, and I didn’t want Gunther to be in trouble for peeing on the floor, so I let him outside. I must not have had his leash on right. I thought he’d come back like he normally does, but he didn’t.”

  “So you went to look for him.”

  “Ummm-hmmm,” she stuck her finger in her mouth to nibble on her nail. “I knew where the house was...until I didn’t, and then I got really scared.”

  “I bet you did. You sure scared both Heath and me.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted you to like me.”

  A sharp breath pierced her lungs. “Why do you think I don’t?”

  “Heath told me you didn’t come see us anymore because he hurt his foot and you were scared. I scared you, so that means you might not like me either.”

  Leave it to a child to make Leza’s excuses sound pathetic and immature. “Believe me when I say I like you. I like you a lot. It’s just relationships scare me.”

  “Why?”

  Good question. People died all the time—in their sleep, in a car, or quietly minding their own business and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  A consummate professional, Heath wanted to protect others. He approached the situation at the bar in textbook style. If anyone understood that life was unpredictable when guns were involved, she did.

  She leaned in and kissed Ellie on the forehead. “We are all scared of something. I’m just thankful we’re together.”

  “Does this mean you’ll give Heath a second chance?”

  “It’s a bit complicated.”

  Ellie sighed and scratched Gunther’s ear. “Why do adults make everything so complicated?” she huffed. “I don’t want to be an adult. It’s no fun.”

  In spite of the throbbing agony, she managed a puff of laughter. “I predict you’ll change your mind in about ten years. I remember when I couldn’t wait until I turned thirteen so I could wear makeup, then sixteen to pass my driver’s license, then twenty-one to go to a bar and have drinks with my friends.”

  “You didn’t wear makeup until you were thirteen?”

  “Nope. I wasn’t much of a girly-girl. My dad and I used to go to the ballpark and watch the Yankees play. There’s nothing better on a Sunday afternoon than the sun shining, seats above first base, a soda, popcorn in hand, and hanging with my dad.”

  “You like baseball?” the skepticism dripped from her voice.

  “I love the Yankees. Back then I could name the players and their stats. You know sports aren’t just for boys.”

  “I know,” she shrugged. “I like different stuff too.”

  “Like what?”

  Her ears turned bright red, and she retreated farther under the covers.

  “Whoa. Why are you getting embarrassed?”

  “The kids at school think I’m weird.”

  “Why?” Leza eased the covers away from Ellie’s face so she could try to read her expression.

  “I like bugs.”

  “How cool is that!” Leza infused her voice with as much excitement as she could manage. “Like beetles or ants?”

  “Mostly grasshoppers, but this older boy has this way-cool praying mantis. My teacher helped me look up stuff about the different kinds. There’s lots of different ones, and there’s this one that looks like a flower? Not a real flower, of course. It’s supposed to blend in.”

  “That’s awesome. Tell me more.”

  Details about how long the bugs lived, how they mated, what they ate, came pouring out of Ellie’s mouth. Leza loved her enthusiasm. Better yet, she enjoyed talking about bugs, because insects took Ellie’s mind off being stuck in a cabin with a snowstorm on the way.

  The warmth of the fire and the night closing in allowed Ellie to drop off to sleep in the middle of a sentence.

  Leza admired the trait and wished she could sleep longer than a few hours at a time. She struggled to the hearth and set another log on the fire, then sat on the floor to tug an extra blanket over her lap.

  The howling wind and snow crystals beating against the window made her feel disconnected, isolated.

  She’d come to Elkridge to be surrounded by people and community, but yet again she found herself alone, caring for a child not her own, yet one she would protect with her life. A life she again was willing to give.

  She had moved to Elkridge to avoid the questions in her mother's eyes, or having her friends get a kick out of mentioning to others she'd been a FBI undercover agent, like she was some type of movie star playing a superhero role.

  She wasn’t a celebrity, or invincible—just a woman who needed to find a place to rest, and possibly save a child or two along the way.

  Chapter 22

  Heath stoked the fire as the sun set and the predicted storm rolled in.

  He moved slowly. The pain was exhausting and distracting, but he refused to take any more meds. Never again. If he hadn't taken the painkillers in the first place, he would have heard El, or at least checked on her.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, letting the guilt embrace the stinging sensation.

  All day long he’d taken phone calls, marked maps, and directed the search.

  Not only had El disappeared, but Leza hadn't checked in either.

  He’d received her last message four hours ago.

  Why hadn’t he gone searching?

  He’d been ordered to stay put and focus on coordinating the search, but a plastic ba
g and a rubber band would have meant one more person on the ground.

  How hard could it be to find a little girl, for Chrissakes?

  Good thing Jack had phoned rather than stopped by to tell him he’d called off their search for the night, or he might have punched the guy. What the hell?

  He’d already gone online and bought night vision gear, and paid a hefty price to have it delivered overnight. The department didn’t have the military equipment he’d become accustomed to using. He wanted to have the good stuff on hand. He should have been prepared.

  He limped to the recliner and pulled the map into his lap, surveying the search routes for the hundredth time. El, where the hell are you?

  No way could she survive. Not in below-freezing temperatures.

  Again, life had a way of making what he wanted and what he needed black and white.

  The women he loved most were missing.

  He’d do anything to have Leza and El back safely.

  He lifted his leg and propped his foot up on a pillow.

  Chase walked in and stomped and shuffled his feet on the welcome mat before walking straight into the kitchen. “Have you heard from Leza again?”

  “Not since the last text. The sheriff is working with the phone company to see if they can track Leza’s cell location, but he said we might not hear back until tomorrow. Jack’s getting the volunteers coordinated to leave at first light, but I’m afraid it might be too late.”

  “Hey!” Chase sat on the couch opposite him. “Remember the time in Aliabad when we were pinned by that river?”

  “Gunfire pouring down from the cliffs above and bullets flying everywhere.”

  “We were trapped. We couldn’t see shit.”

  Heath took a deep breath and let the memories swamp his thoughts. “We got separated. The commander tried getting us coverage. With a river on one side, trees and boulders on the other, we were screwed. None of us should have made it out that day.”

  Chase crossed his foot over his knee. “A couple of smoke grenades, some cover rounds, and a shit-ton of luck, and we made it across the river.”

  “Yeah, then we received orders to go back in to find Rios,” Heath remembered. “I was sure we’d find him shot to pieces.”

  “I bet he thought the same thing.” Chase slapped his thigh. “I heard he got married and had three kids.”

  “No kidding.” Heath bowed his head and let the memory ease away into the silence.

  Chase tapped his fingers on his knee. “Did Jack reach Leza’s mom?”

  Heath nodded. “She’s catching a late flight out. Jack arranged for Harold to pick her up, but she insisted on renting a car. She should be here before the search crew starts in the morning.”

  Not the way he wanted to meet the mother of the woman he loved.

  “You should get some sleep, man. You look like crap.”

  Heath rubbed his face. “Speak for yourself.”

  “I have two kids, and a pregnant wife and mother-in-law. I don’t ever get any shut-eye.”

  “I don’t know how you do it. Three kids. I’m having trouble keeping track of one.”

  “Hey,” Chase gave him the awkward stare. “Don’t go there. This isn’t your fault.”

  Heath picked at a mustard stain on his sweatpants. “Whose is it?”

  “You know as well as I do that shit happens. No one’s to blame. You gotta let that stuff go. Guilt will eat you up inside, then pretty soon you’re no good to anyone…even yourself.”

  “What? You like some kind of psychologist now?”

  “All dads are one part psychologist, one part lover, one part hero.”

  Leave it to a Marine to make a wisecrack in the worst of situations. “I used to be able to balance by working harder. But now...” He shook his head as another pile of guilt and doubt buried him.

  “That’s bull crap. You’ve heard stories from the guys. You know transitioning out of the Corps is hard. Your job now is different, that’s all. Show up every day, but give yourself a break. “

  “And El? Leza?”

  “You know women have a whole ’nother set of rules they don’t tell anyone about. You can’t figure them out. Don’t even try. Take one day at a time.”

  One day at a time. Yeah, right. He slouched back into his chair.

  He used to have his whole future laid out—a masterfully crafted plan. He wanted to pay off his parents’ and sister’s mortgage, shove money into savings, do his time, possibly double-dip with another contract job, or working for the government when his twenty years came up.

  When he received the call about his sister’s death, he didn’t hesitate to trash the plan and start fresh.

  He kept working harder, but harder wasn’t working.

  “I’d better get some shut-eye. I’ll sleep in this recliner so I can keep my foot raised.” And be ready in case I hear news.

  Chase nodded. “I’m good on the couch.” He kicked off his shoes, stretched out, and pulled Ellie’s blanket off the back of the sofa.

  Snuggled under bumblebees and butterflies, Chase looked ridiculous. But Heath was so glad for the company, he didn’t want to poke at his friend.

  Until that moment, Heath hadn’t realized how much guilt he’d been carrying around about Afghanistan. It had been overwhelmed by the El and Zoe guilt.

  The burden he carried around from Afghanistan weighted him down to the point that he might as well been lugging around a rocket launcher, ammo bag, and a fully-loaded kit.

  He rubbed his chest to ease the burning concoction of emotional junk pressing in. He laid his head back to rest, but his mind kept replaying Leza’s last message.

  Crews had searched her last coordinates and found nothing.

  Instinct told him she was following El’s trail, but how the hell did El travel seven, maybe eight miles away from the house?

  His eyes became heavy and dragged him into an uneasy sleep. His mind searched for El while his body sank deeper into the chair.

  He raced through a forest of tall pines and spruces, with clusters of branches high above. Blankets of pine needles crunched beneath his feet. Then he smelled smoke. Not from a forest fire, more like from a campfire. He tipped his head back to gauge the direction, then raced along the trail. After a couple of switchbacks, he came upon a cabin, a soft light flickering in the window.

  The door opened, and Leza appeared, beckoning to him with an urgent wave.

  He hurried across the open moonlit pasture.

  His heart beat with joy and anticipation, his steps light and quick.

  He pushed the cabin door open, and El called to him. The popping of fire embers jerked him awake.

  Nooo. He popped into consciousness and searched the room frantically for El and Leza. His chest heaved, and he held his breath to stifle the tears.

  Nothing. They weren’t here.

  He saw Chase with his back to him, snoring, his feet hanging off the couch, which was slightly too short for a guy his size.

  He closed his eyes again, his heart pounding with urgency to recapture the dream.

  But what if it isn’t a dream?

  All his life he’d had dreams. Odd dreams. He could have stepped inside the dream hologram.

  He reached for a spiral notebook on the side table and flipped to a blank page. He sketched a crude cabin in a meadow at the base of the ridge. He closed his eyes to envision each minute detail, and then rushed to complete the drawing before the particulars of the image evaporated.

  When he’d captured everything he could recall, both inside and outside of the cabin, he laid the notebook on his lap and reached for his phone.

  “Jack. Hey, it’s Heath. Sorry to wake you, but I need to know. Is there anyone on the crew who might be familiar with the cabins in the area?”

  “Whoa. Slow down,” Jack croaked. “My brain is still waking up. Did you say cabins?”

  “Yeah. I’m looking for a small structure built maybe in the late 1800s. A single room cabin with a fireplace and a cot
. Look, I know you probably think I’m insane, but I had this dream.”

  “No.” Jack snorted a chuckle. “I wouldn’t think that. Not after spending time with Rivers.”

  Rivers Black. Yes! Why didn’t I think of him before?

  He’d heard the local jewelry maker of fine native Indian pieces didn’t talk much, but was a master woodsman. He didn’t seem to like people much, although he did lend a hand now and then. He’d heard the guy went on a search for two lost hikers the state had already declared a recovery mission, but he found the couple alive and led them to safety.

  “Do you have his number?”

  “Nope. He doesn’t have a phone.”

  Shit. “How do I reach him? I want to ask him if he’ll help look for El.”

  “I’ll see if I can get a message to him. He has an old two-way radio. It’s odd, but half the time he just shows up when he’s needed.”

  Heath wanted to call the station to see if any of the hunters knew of an old-fashioned cabin on the ridge, but at three am only a skeleton shift worked, with several guys on call if needed. A few hours more, though, and he could ask his question.

  He settled back to wait. Details of the search rolled around and around in his head until his exhausted brain pulled him into a fitful slumber. A knock on the door jerked him awake.

  He expected darkness, but pre-dawn light streamed through the front window.

  Another knock followed.

  Chase rolled over. “What the hell?” He pulled his hands down his face.

  “I’ll get it,” Heath dropped the chair’s footrest and hobbled to the door. After opening the door, he squinted and blinked several times.

  Was he still dreaming?

  A thin man wearing boots, jeans, and a thick, leather-lined coat stepped into view, holding the bridles of two horses. “You Watson?”

  “I am.”

  Rivers never gave him his name, but Heath supposed he couldn’t mistake who stood on his doorstep.

  “Jack says your niece is missing and you’ve had a dream.” The man smelled the air. “Another storm’s coming. We’d better get an early start.”