by Nancy Allan
Inside the suite, Amy and Dallas found themselves staring into a huge spa built into a private glassed-in solarium, adjoining the suite. “It’s the best way to warm up in a hurry,” he told her turning on the taps. “You go first.”
When there was no response he turned to look at her. “Amy?” Her pale skin had taken on a bluish hue. Her lips were chalky, her eyes bloodshot, and her hair fell in long, damp clumps down her back.
“No, you go ahead,” she answered absently. She gazed into the adjacent bathroom, her eyes fixed on the tiny bottle of mouthwash that protruded from a basket of bath condiments. He had put his tongue against her lips and teeth. The vile taste still lingered. “I need to clean up.” She left Dallas and walked into the bathroom. She popped the lid, and tipped the contents into her mouth, rinsing until the container was empty. Then she plucked the soap bar and shampoo from the basket, and walked around the corner to the shower. She felt…filthy. The fast flowing river had removed all traces of mud and sand, but not the feel of his hands on her skin. The bastard!
Shedding the clothing she’d been given, she turned on the shower, and stepped in. The lukewarm beads of water felt like needles on her cold skin. She stood directly under the showerhead and closed her eyes, soaking up the warmth and the feeling of him running off her. She shampooed her hair and scrubbed her body with soap, cleansing him away. Thank God she had the strength to fight him off.
Amy knew she was lucky to be alive. He was close to drowning her when Dallas fired his gun. What a strange feeling that had been. She had seen Jamie. No…can’t think about Jamie. Not right now.
It was a long time before she finally turned off the water. Reaching for a bath towel, she wrapped it around her slender body and padded back into the solarium. To her surprise Dallas was sitting on the planter, still in damp jeans, staring at the tub, and looking like he was deep in thought. He looked up. On their hike back to the highway Amy had told him, in detail, what had transpired from the moment her Jeep struck the mud bank to the struggle in the river. She could almost see him going over it in his mind now. “Why didn’t you go in the spa?” she asked. “You look frozen.”
Dallas had filled the tub with warm water. Steam drifted over the surface. “Ladies first.”
Amy shook her head at the simplicity of his response, yet it spoke volumes about the man who had waited in cold, wet jeans while she showered. Sitting tenderly on the tile surround, she swung her legs into the tub, immersing her feet. “It’s quite hot.”
Dallas tested the water. “It’s comfortably warm,” he told her. “Go ahead. Get in. Add more hot water as your body adjusts to the temperature.” He turned to leave, but Amy caught his hand. He looked down at her questioningly. She recognized his intense look. Those blue eyes were searching again. His hand went to her cheek. She reached for it and held it there. The towel slipped to the floor.
His eyes traveled down her body.
Amy stepped into the tub. “Come on,” she whispered. Amy tilted her head to look up at him and he saw angry red bite marks on her right breast.
“That animal!”
She glanced down, and seeing the teeth marks, scooped warm water over the raw flesh. “He’ll pay for that, Dallas, I swear.”
Sitting on tile surround, he reached out and lifted a wisp of hair from her forehead and studied her intently. Amy watched him. The tenderness of his expression tore her breath away. She grasped his wrist and tugged him toward her. “Dallas. Come in the water. Get warm.”
“I’ll shower first,” he told her and disappeared into the bathroom.
Dallas returned a few minutes later, and plucking a washcloth from the rack, he slipped into the oversized tub and sat behind her. As he slid his legs around each side of her, the warm water rose to his chest. He lifted her hair over her shoulder, and dampening the cloth, he ran it tenderly over her skin. Cupping the water in his hands, he trickled it across her small shoulders and down her arm. He could smell the flowery scent of her hair and pulling it back, he ran his fingers through the fine silk, then let it fall, like a curtain down her back, before lifting it over her shoulder.
Amy closed her eyes and leaned back against him, allowing his touch to caress her. She was no longer cold. A new warmth flooded her body. She felt his cheek touch hers and his arms close around her. She turned, her lips touching his jaw, her fingertips reaching up to stroke his cheek. He pulled away.
“Timing’s bad, Amy.” he said getting up.
Amy grabbed his arm. “Timing?” she repeated, her eyes searching his. “How can you say that? If you hadn’t pulled the trigger the second you did, I wouldn’t be here. The bastard would have drowned me. And, if you hadn’t dragged me out of the river at the exact moment that you did, I’d be floating out in the Pacific by now. Your timing is perfect. I’m alive.”
She tugged on his arm until he sat back down. He swallowed hard and looked away. Amy waited for him to look back at her.
“The river had turned dangerous by the time you jumped in. You’ve risked your life for me. That’s twice counting the fire. It’s almost incomprehensible that you’d do that once, never mind twice.” Her voice was choked with emotion. “You gave me another chance to live, to be with my son,” she whispered, “and to do so much more with my life than I have. You’re a brave, selfless man, Dallas. And I’m so grateful…”
She half-turned, her gray eyes intent upon him. “When I was in the river, I promised myself that if I got out…I would find Jamie and start a new life.”
Amy reached up and put her hands around his neck, drawing his face close to her own. She kissed him softly.
Turning to face him, she felt his hands pressing on the small of her back, pulling her into his embrace. His lips brushed her cheek, and her lips. Suddenly, she was being lifted out of the water. He let her feet touch the bath mat, and with gentle strokes, dried her with one of the thick white towels. Then, he carried her to the bed and placed her gently on the duvet.
His body, muscular and lean, pressed against hers, his hands caressed her, and suddenly she drifted into a strange new world of sensations. Her body reacted to his touch in ways she never believed possible. She wanted him.
They became one and the move tore her breath away, launching her into a world of color, emotion, and sensations not of this earth.
Afterward, near dawn, she slept nestled in the crook of his arms, her cheek against his chest, his heart beating in time to her own. She dreamed that she found Jamie.
CHAPTER 27
Amy awoke to find his pale blue eyes gazing at her. “Morning,” she whispered sleepily.
“You’re beautiful,” Dallas murmured, his eyes never leaving her face. The morning sun filtered into the room, dancing over the golden strands of hair and across her translucent skin. He stroked her hair, wondering what was happening to him. He had loved Ellen and believed himself incapable of ever loving another woman. But now he found himself looking at the face of a woman who had captured his heart. How exactly had this happened?
Dallas placed his lips gently over hers. A strange mix of emotion flooded through him. He wanted to protect her, to care for her, and to carry her away to a safe place where no harm could come to her. He wanted to be with her every minute. He craved her touch, her smile, and her embrace.
Suddenly, he was walking new terrain and contending with emotions, desires, and needs foreign to him. He thought he knew himself, but he realized that a man could never really know himself. Things change, and before you know it, a man finds himself in uncharted territory wondering if his body and mind are betraying him or whether he’s at a crossroad, with a new life waiting for him.
“What are you thinking, Dallas?”
He pushed a lock of her hair off her face. “I’d like to spend the whole day here, with you.”
She smiled. “I wish that were possible. Maybe we should plan that for a day down the road, when things are normal again.”
Dallas sat up. “Hm. Normal. What's normal, I wonder?" He
sat up. "Hungry?”
Amy slipped out of bed. “Now that you mention it, I am.”
He watched as she walked to the shower. She was exquisite. Her long straight back gave way to a tiny waist that rounded out over the soft curve of her hips. A single tress of long, wavy hair cascaded down her back. She moved gracefully on slim, shapely legs. Her arms were slender; her hands and fingers delicate. She half turned and smiled at him. His eyes traveled back up her body, along her neck, to the perfect structure of her facial bones. Her beauty was breathtaking.
While they dressed, Dallas said to her, “I don’t understand how your husband could leave you.”
Amy shrugged.
“Do you love him?” Dallas asked.
She looked up in surprise. “I did, in the beginning.” She thought for a few minutes. “Dan changed a lot after Jamie was born. He pulled away from me. Time passed and after a while, my feelings for him began to diminish.” Amy sat down on the bed and put on her socks. “Our marriage mutated into a routine. At some point Dan’s career, his personal life—and it seems his sex life, were fulfilled outside our home. Home to Dan had become a place where he stored his things, including Jamie and me.” She looked away, thoughtfully. “The other night, when Dan left me, I should have felt a huge sense of loss. I admit, I felt a lot of things, but loss wasn’t one of them. In fact, I felt relief. That really surprised me.”
Dallas was thoughtful. “Did you know him for long before you were married?”
“Couple of years. We met at university”
“Did he introduce you to his family?”
Amy rubbed her eyes. “His sister Nita, of course. She’s the only family he has.”
“Where are his parents?”
“They were killed when Dan was a teenager.”
“Like yours.” It was a statement, not a question.
Amy looked up at Dallas. “Yes.”
“That gave you a common bond.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Did Dan ever talk to you about his parents?”
“No. He didn’t like to talk about them.”
“And he probably didn’t like you talking about yours either.”
Amy stayed very still. “What are you saying, Dallas?”
“Did you ever meet any of his other relatives, you know, cousins, aunts, uncles?”
“No,” she said hesitantly.
“Friends from his childhood?”
“No,” Amy repeated.
“Didn’t that strike you as unusual?”
“Not really. A tragedy like that is devastating. It kind of knocks you out of orbit. Nothing in your life is normal after that, so how do you judge what’s unusual?”
Dallas sat down, his forearms resting across his knees.
“Dallas, what is it? ”
He was silent, his thumbnail rubbing his brow. Abruptly he stood. “Let’s go for breakfast. I’m starved.”
“I can’t go out dressed like this. I look like a vagabond.”
Dallas laughed. “You look just fine.” He pulled her toward him and kissed her, “In fact, you look wonderful.”
They walked through the state park and down the boardwalk, the sun-bleached wood shifting ever so slightly under their weight. They stopped to watch the breakers roll onto the beach. Rays of morning sun bounced from the mist that hovered above the break line, creating a rainbow. Above, gulls circled, their cry audible over the roar of the sea.
“This is one of my favorite places,” Dallas told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I came here a lot after Ellen and I split up. There’s something about the place.” He rested his right foot on the log bench. “Did a lot of thinking right here. We’ll have to come back, Amy, when things settle down.
Amy noticed his introspective look and wondered if he was recalling the insights he had gleaned here.
Finally, he said, “Ellen was the love of my life. I couldn’t visualize a future without her.”
“Time,” Amy told him. “It changes everything. No matter how great the loss, time heals us enough so that we can feel again.”
He turned her around and put an index finger under her chin lifted her face to his. “The strange part is, what I feel now, I never felt with Ellen.”
Amy reached up and touched his hand. “I know. I kind of feel that way too. I co-existed with Dan. After he left, I thought back over our time together and realized our relationship as man and wife had disintegrated completely. I’d stopped loving him, but he had to leave me before I could face that fact.” The breeze blew her hair across her eyes. She brushed it away. “I have feelings for you that overwhelm me, but my life is in such a mess right now--”
“I know.” Dallas guided her back onto the sandy boardwalk. “You’re doing great.”
They walked, arms around the other, to the door of The Sunset Café, a small beachfront restaurant on the sand. They climbed the driftwood steps to the wide covered balcony and pulled open the weather-beaten door. “I met Nita here for lunch once,” Amy told Dallas as he led her across the shiplap floors to an alcove overlooking the bay. They squeezed around the small table for two and sat down.
Dallas slid the vase of fresh flowers to the side of the table. “Were you close to Nita?”
“Not close, no. She and Brandon weren’t able to have kids of their own, so they wanted Jamie to stay with them as often as possible. I never was happy about that, but Dan insisted. I never did spend much time with them. Occasionally, Nita and I would go shopping together, or to a cafe. Once in a while she and Brandon came to supper. That’s about it. She’s not a warm, fuzzy person. In fact, she’s so tainted, it’s hard to have a normal conversation with her.”
Dallas looked at Amy thoughtfully. “Did Nita ever discuss her parents?”
Amy shrugged. “No, she and Dan were alike that way. Neither of them would open up.” Amy adjusted her chair so she could see the ocean. “But that’s not an unusual response.”
“What about you? Is it hard for you to talk about your parents?”
“Depends. After they died it was a long time before I could function like a normal human being. Talking about it takes me back to that dark time. I don’t like going there unprepared.”
The waitress brought them two Ship’s Logs that served as a binder for the menus, and Amy realized that she was famished. They ordered Captain’s breakfasts and coffee. She looked at Dallas and tilted her head. “Why all these questions about Dan’s parents?”
“I’m trying to work things out.”
The waitress put a carafe of coffee and cups between them and returned a few minutes later with their breakfasts. Dallas reached for the salt, shaking it furiously onto his eggs and hash browns.
Amy watched in amazement. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Don’t you ever worry about high blood pressure…or worse?”
“Hell no. Blood pressure’s not even on the list.” he said digging in.
Avoiding the salt and pepper altogether, Amy picked up her fork and took a bite of bacon. “What’s on the list then?”
Dallas laughed. “Getting shot, or stabbed, or totaling the Yukon in a chase, you know, stuff like that,” he told her.
Amy nodded, “I guess they would take priority. How long have you been sheriff?”
“Fifteen years.”
She saw the pride in his expression. “You love your job, don’t you?”
“Most of the time.”
They ate in silence and when they were finished, Dallas reached for her hand. “There’s something you need to know about your husband, Amy. I’ve been trying to find a gentle way to say it, but there isn’t one."
Amy stiffened. “What is it, Dallas?”
“In my line of work coincidences don’t exist. When I found out that a Dr. George Johnstone was your mother’s OB/GYN, I got that old feeling in my gut.”
Amy nodded, “I know. It bothered me too. But both versions of the name are pretty common.”
“How abou
t two OB/GYNs with almost identical names?” Dallas suggested.
“It seems pretty unusual,” Amy agreed.
“All right. I’m going to say this straight out, so here it is: your husband, Dan Johnson’s birth certificate reads, Daniel Oliver Johnstone. His name was legally changed when he was seventeen.”
Amy fell back in the chair and gaped at Dallas.
CHAPTER 28
Dallas pulled up in front of a local family clothing store and outfitters. Amy looked at the display in the window. After what she’d just heard about Dan’s name being changed, Amy was in no mood to shop. She looked at the storefront. “Let’s go, Dallas. I don’t feel like buying clothes right now.”
“Go on,” he encouraged, “You need something to wear.”
She tugged at her jeans and coat. “I won’t be long.” She grabbed new jeans, sweaters, a bra, panties, socks, and a pair of sneakers, and was back in the truck in twenty minutes.
Dallas was shocked. “That must be a record.”
Amy dropped the shopping bags into the rear seat and reached for his arm. “Dallas, I’ve got the feeling you know more than you’re saying.”
He started the truck. “Well, I can tell you this. I was in Portland yesterday, seeing Maya. While I was there, I learned that Dr. George Johnstone’s wife, Vera Johnstone lives there. So, I dropped by. She’s not exactly the warm, fuzzy type, either, even though she used to be a nurse. Anyway, to make it brief,” he said, pulling out, “she confirmed that Dr. George Johnstone is her ex-husband, so while I was driving back, Deb did some checking for me. Vera Johnstone is Dan’s mother—”
Amy finished the sentence: “And they’re both very much alive.” Amy drummed her nails on the door panel. “All these years I believed that Dan, like me, had lost his parents.”
“If it’s any concession, not having known Vera Johnstone is a real plus. She’s one cold, calculating piece of work. It’s a wonder Dan turned out as well as he did.”
Amy speculated, “If she was a nurse, she could have assisted her husband with child births.”