Popping up beside her, he shook the water out of his hair. “Well, doll, we have two choices.”
She wiped her eyes with one hand while treading water with the other. “And they are?”
“Swim to the shore and follow the road back to the resort, or swim from island to island, which is less than half the distance of walking.”
“Considering I’ve lost my shoes, I vote for swimming,” she said.
“Then swimming it is.”
Though their efforts were much more lax than when they’d first hit the water, as time went on, the islands seemed to get farther away rather than closer. Twyla couldn’t combat the way her movements grew sluggish. She relished each short break Forrest offered when they stumbled onto the smaller islands. He asked if she needed to rest longer at each stop, but she refused. Her mind was reliving the car chase and she feared Nasty Nick showing up at the resort with his machine gun.
“No, I can make it,” she kept saying.
However, when they were almost at the big island, pain gripped her right leg. For a millisecond she thought Ludwig had caught up with them and grabbed hold of her. She screamed and momentarily dropped beneath the surface. Forrest instantly had her head above water again, and flipped her onto her back. By then, the pain had left her with no control over her leg.
“Cramps?” Forrest asked.
She could barely nod. The constant, fiery pain threatened her ability to breathe.
“Relax as much as you can,” Forrest said. “I’ve got you.”
Holding onto the thick forearm he wrapped around her, she tried to let her body go limp, so it wouldn’t take too much of his energy to tug her to shore. He was swimming backward, with one arm. Keeping his head close to hers, he kept whispering that they were getting closer to the island.
When he stopped and lifted her into his arms, Twyla couldn’t even wrap her arms around his neck. Everything about her felt heavy and useless. Even lifting her head was impossible.
“You’re going to be fine, honey,” Forrest said as he maneuvered her head to rest on his shoulder. “I promise, you’ll be fine.”
Her eyes didn’t want to stay open. It was as if she was slipping away. To someplace where there were no fears, no worries, just wonderful peacefulness. As her thoughts faded, she whispered what was in her heart. “I love you, Forrest. I’ve always loved you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Forrest removed his shirt and spread it out before shifting Twyla from his lap onto the sandy ground. Positioning her head on his shirt, he examined every inch of her body. A bit frantically the first time, slower the next. So many bullets had been fired, one could easily have hit her. He found nothing. No torn flesh, scrapes or scratches. Not a single blemish marred her delicate skin. He was thankful, so very thankful, but his heart had twisted into a hard knot and tightened again when he felt for the pulse in her neck. It was so weak he barely detected it.
Fury, intense and hot, rose up inside him. This was exactly what he’d known would happen. Deep down he’d known she’d be hurt, just like everyone else who ever became involved with his family. Even locked behind bars, Galen’s actions were still hurting people. It was inevitable. Forrest had wanted to stop it for years, but he hadn’t been able to, and now his greatest fear had come to be. Because of him, Twyla was hurt.
Forrest growled and cursed and then laid a hand on her chest to assure there was a slow rise and fall. The faint movement gave him hope. It was up to him to make sure the hurting was over. As soon as he got Twyla to safety, he’d get those printing plates back and see that neither Galen nor Ludwig ever saw the light of day again.
Ironically, he could see the resort, but unless someone was looking directly at this particular spot, no one could see him, or Twyla. The sun was still out, but evening was settling in, and the air was getting cooler with each second.
He could make the swim, although it would be the longest one of the journey, and his main concern was that if he left the island, Twyla might wake up and try swimming the distance, too. Checking her pulse one last time, he scanned the woods behind him. He’d carried Twyla across the island, to this side, where they used to play, because this was, at least he hoped, where he’d find what he needed and where they’d be seen.
It had been a very long time, but he was certain he knew where things were, as long as no one had disturbed them over the years.
Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispered, “I love you, too, Twyla. I have for a long, long time.”
She made no move, no indication that she’d heard him. Yet, because it was Twyla, he firmly said, “Stay right here, sweetheart. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Forrest kissed her forehead again before he jumped to his feet and jogged toward the woods. He’d thrown off his jacket and kicked off his boots before they’d jumped from the car, but the sticks and stones beneath his soles didn’t bother him. His entire body had grown numb. Twyla wasn’t injured, not physically, as she very well could have been. She was exhausted. The swim had used up all her vibrant energy. That’s what he kept telling himself. Being held at gunpoint, driving a getaway car over a cliff and into the lake, swimming for miles. She had a right to be exhausted. And had more guts and courage than most men he knew.
He had to find the building materials they’d hauled over here years ago, and hope the rest of the supplies were there, too. Gloria Kasper lived at the resort. She was the best doctor for miles and would examine Twyla as soon as he got her home and confirm she was just exhausted. He wouldn’t venture any other belief.
The brush had grown considerably over the years, but it was there, their pile of lumber. Forrest rushed forward, tossing aside gray, weathered wood, and felt a jolt of excitement when he uncovered the tin can. Prying off the lid, he found the contents still intact.
Quickly gathering several boards, he sprinted back to the sandy beach, where he checked on Twyla again. She hadn’t moved, and he quickly went to work. After he assembled the wood, he gathered a handful of leaves and dried grass.
The matches in the tin can were old. Several merely hissed when he struck them, but one flared. He held it to the pile he’d assembled. First the grass caught, then the leaves and eventually the wood he’d broken into small chunks. Once they started burning, he threw on more, and then gathered a few dried branches. The fire was soon as large as he needed, and then he tossed on more leaves and moist moss, to make as much smoke as possible.
That would do the trick—someone at the resort was sure to smell and see the fire.
A cough had him spinning around.
Twyla smiled as her eyes fluttered shut again.
Arriving at her side, Forrest crouched down. “How are you feeling?”
“You built a fire.”
Relief washed over him. “Yes, I did.”
“Good. I’m cold,” she whispered.
Gathering her onto his lap, he whispered, “I’ll warm you.”
She giggled.
He rubbed her arms before wrapping both of his around her, holding her against him. “You sound almost drunk.”
“I feel almost drunk.” She snuggled her head beneath his chin. “Or maybe I’m dreaming that I’m on a deserted island with a handsome man.”
“You aren’t dreaming,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “But I’m hoping the island won’t be deserted for long. That’s why I built the fire, to signal to someone at the resort.”
“Aw,” she said with a long sigh. “But that’ll ruin my dream.”
As much as he wanted her to stay awake, he knew she wasn’t truly conscious. Just somewhere in between. In that comforting place between dreams and reality. “Shh,” he said softly. “Go back to sleep, love. No one will ruin your dream.”
“This is nice,” she said groggily.
“Yes, it is.” Lifting hi
s head to gaze toward the resort, for a brief instant Forrest wished he was dreaming. But knowing reality was what he needed, he was happy to see people climbing into a boat.
* * *
Twyla opened her eyes and stared at the sunlit ceiling of her bedroom for an extended length of time. A plethora of visions danced in her head. It wasn’t until she attempted to raise an arm in order to rub her forehead that she realized they weren’t just visions, but memories. Her arm, her entire body for that fact, felt weighed down with lead.
“Wow,” she muttered, in response to both her body and memories of gunfire, fast driving and that long swim.
“Hello.”
She twisted, but flinched at the way even her neck muscles burned. Slowly, with painful effort, she forced her arm to obey so she could rub her neck. Even her fingers hurt. “Hi,” she said with a gasp.
“How are you feeling?” Norma Rose asked.
“Like I’m a hundred,” she mumbled. “No one my age should hurt this bad.”
Her attempt to sit up was too excruciating and she gave in, sinking slowly back into the softness of her mattress and pillow.
“I brought you something to eat,” Norma Rose said.
“That was nice of you,” Twyla answered, seriously considering going back to sleep.
“You have to be hungry by now.”
Turning just enough to see the clock on the table beside her bed, Twyla closed her eyes again to let the numbers sink in and make sense. “Does that say three in the afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” She huffed out a breath. Some adventurer she was—one day and she was completely worn out. “That swim exhausted me.”
“I’d say. You slept for over a day. Gloria said you would.”
Twyla opened one eye to peer up at Norma Rose. She was tired and sore, but being treated by the resident doctor seemed a bit unnecessary. “I’ve been asleep since Forrest built the fire on the island yesterday?”
“Yes and no.”
Confused, Twyla frowned.
“Today’s Thursday,” Norma Rose explained.
“Thurs— What happened to Wednesday?”
“You slept through it.”
Despite the pain, Twyla pushed herself up and closed her eyes as the room spun. The mint-green walls, a color she loved, didn’t look so wonderful when zipping by. “Slept through it?” Flashes of memory assaulted her mind, before she was able to cry, “We have to call Sheriff Withers, and Father, and—”
“Hush,” Norma Rose said, with both hands on Twyla’s shoulders. “Sheriff Withers has already arrested Nick Ludwig and his three accomplices. Although they’ll never get the car out of the lake, divers did get the suitcase out. Ludwig and his cronies were still trying to do that when the sheriff arrived at the scene. And Father is on his way home.”
“How’s Forrest?” Twyla asked. “Is he still sleeping, too? Is he here? At the resort?”
Norma Rose rubbed her shoulders gently. “Forrest is fine. But, no, he’s not here.”
“He’s at the Plantation?” Twyla asked, with a distinct gut feeling she was wrong.
“No,” Norma Rose said. “He’s not at the Plantation. He left for California yesterday.”
“California?” Twyla’s mouth tasted rotten all of a sudden. It had happened again. Just as she’d known it would. “Without even saying goodbye.”
“He said goodbye,” Norma Rose assured her. “You slept through it. He had to get there before tomorrow. That’s when Galen’s hearing is. He wanted to deliver the evidence himself.”
“The printing plates?”
“Yes,” Norma Rose answered. “Are you ready for something to eat?”
Twyla didn’t think her stomach could manage that right now. “No, thank you. Did Forrest say how long he’d be gone?”
“No.”
“I’d have gone with him,” Twyla said, mainly to herself, “if he’d asked.”
“I’m sure you would have,” Norma Rose answered.
Twyla glanced at her sister as Norma Rose sat down on the edge of the bed, but said no more.
“I do have some other news for you,” Norma Rose said.
“What?”
“Father is on his way home, but Ginger isn’t.”
“She’s not?”
Norma Rose grinned. “Nope. She and Brock got married.”
At least someone was happy. Twyla pulled up a smile. It was weak, but heartfelt. “I knew that would happen. Good for her.”
“I have some other news, too.”
“Great, does everything happen while I’m sleeping?” Twyla asked jokingly. She was attempting not to think about Forrest. That he’d left again. “What is it?”
“Josie was arrested.”
“What?”
Norma Rose nodded.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. She’s being tight-lipped about it. So is Scooter.”
“Scooter?” Twyla shook her head. “You know what, yester—Tuesday, when I went to get my car filled with gas, Scooter’s station was closed.”
“So you drove out to Forrest’s hangar instead?”
“Yeah,” she said. Even worn out, her mind attempted to cover her tracks. “Scooter fills a barrel of gas out there for Forrest and I thought maybe Scooter was there.”
“He had been,” Norma Rose said. “Forrest had flown him to Duluth. Scooter had called him, told him Josie had got arrested and he had to go and bail her out.”
“Why’d she call Scooter instead of one of us?” Twyla asked. “At least I’m assuming that’s how Scooter knew she’d been arrested.”
“It is,” Norma Rose said, “but that’s all I know.”
Twyla let out a whistle. “Ginger’s married, Josie was arrested, I was almost kidnapped—but I’m fine.” Shaking her head, she finished her thought. “Daddy’s not going to be happy.”
“Probably not.” Norma Rose stood and picked up the tray of food sitting on the floor. “You know, it wasn’t me.”
“You?” Twyla asked, lost.
“I wasn’t the one locking you girls upstairs. Father was afraid Galen would try to kidnap one of you.” Norma Rose indicated the tray in her hand. “Are you going to eat this, or should I take it back to the kitchen?”
“Thank you, but take it back to the kitchen,” Twyla said, feeling a deep understanding for her sister. “I’ll eat after I take a long bath. I ache from head to toe and a tub of hot water will feel good.”
“You had quite the harrowing day.”
“Forrest must have told you all about it.”
“He told Ty, who told me.”
“You and Ty don’t have any secrets, do you?”
“No, we don’t.” Norma Rose headed for the door. “I’ll go start a bath for you.”
“Thank you,” Twyla said, while noting the red dress Norma Rose wore. She’d worn black for years, but that, too, had changed since Ty had arrived. Love had changed her sister, and Ginger, too. Love was the reason Ginger had run away with Brock.
Norma Rose pulled open the door. “I’ll start your bath before taking this downstairs, so hurry up or it’ll overflow.”
Twyla nodded, but a bath was no longer her focus. Resting her head on the pillow, she whispered, “I’m in love, too.” Glancing at the door Norma Rose had closed, she added, “I’m just not loved in return.”
She and Forrest could read each other’s minds, like Norma Rose had said her and Ty could—Tuesday had shown that, but Tuesday also proved that Forrest didn’t tell her everything. He’d never once mentioned he’d flown to Duluth so Scooter could get Josie out of jail. As a matter of fact, he’d said he had no intention of telling her anything.
Twyla threw back the covers and gritted her teeth
at the pain crawling out of bed caused. She’d expected Forrest to leave again. Had told herself she’d go right on living when he did. No broken heart for her this time.
Pushing up off the bed, she wobbled. Nothing would be the same this time. She’d make sure of it.
The bath helped, and while soaking in it, Twyla confirmed in her mind that things wouldn’t be the same. Phone lines went clear to California.
After getting dressed and eating, she obtained a phone number for Karen Reynolds in Los Angeles. Her numerous calls that afternoon went unanswered. Norma Rose kindly pointed out that the Standard Time Act of seven years ago put California two hours behind Minnesota, meaning Forrest could still be conversing with law enforcement officials, or, Norma Rose also suggested, he might not even be there yet, depending on how many times he’d had to stop to refuel his airplane.
Twyla accepted her sister’s knowledge and started to question if she’d learned anything during all her years of schooling. Evidently, not much. Not as much as Forrest had known about money or Norma Rose about time.
While still contemplating that, Twyla chose to visit Josie, who from what Norma Rose said had sequestered herself in her bedroom, leaving only to visit the bathroom. The door wasn’t locked, so after knocking, Twyla let herself into Josie’s room. Her sister was sitting on the built-in bench in front of her window, knees drawn up to her chest, and only acknowledged Twyla’s entrance with a brief glance.
“Want to talk about it?” Twyla asked, shutting the door. There was no sense in hiding the reason she was here, and as she well knew, Josie rarely offered anything unless asked.
“No,” Josie answered.
“All right, want to hear about my adventure?”
Josie grinned slightly. “I already have. The entire resort is buzzing with it.”
Twyla sat down on the floor and leaned her back against Josie’s cushioned bench. “I thought I wanted adventure, Josie, but that was too much for me.”
“That wasn’t adventure,” Josie said. “That was danger.”
Twyla sighed. “The only time I was scared—really, really scared—was when I jumped in the water. The suction of the car sinking was pulling me down and for a minute I thought my life was over. But then Forrest grabbed my hand, and I was no longer scared.”
The Rebel Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 2) Page 20