Cricket’s ears twitched. Her head jerked sharply to her left. She took off at a gallop.
Hank sprinted forward and Edward’s footsteps fell heavily behind him.
Clear blue skies loomed large through the trees in front of Hank. A throbbing pulse pounded his eardrum and a queasy feeling ripped through his core. If Cricket didn’t change course... No! He couldn’t let himself think about that. He forced himself onward to the top of the rise.
Hank ground to a halt.
Edward stopped beside him.
Fifteen yards ahead, Cricket crawled to the rim of the precipice, her body low to the ground, her back end acting as brakes as she moved forward.
Edward lifted a foot to take a step.
Hank threw a hand across his midsection. “Shh. Don’t spook her.”
Cricket leaned her snoot over the edge and looked downward. Hank’s throat constricted at her plaintive whimper. She backed away, dragging her chest, and pushing back with her elbows rotating around her shoulders like a locomotive. Head hanging low, she came to Hank and lay across his feet.
Edward started to move forward again.
Hank grabbed his arm. “Look.” He pointed. “A limb was recently torn from that tree trunk. The splintered wood is white and fresh, and the ground beside it—”
“Oh, God, no.”
“Let’s not disturb the ground around that tree for right now. There’s solid rock over there.” Hank motioned to the spot with a chin nod. “I’ll go take a look.”
“Hello? Anybody up there?”
Cindy!
Edward’s eyes reflected the excitement Cindy’s voice ignited inside Hank.
Hank leaped over Cricket, scrambled to the rock and dropped to his stomach.
Edward hit the ground beside him, his shoulder practically on top of Hank’s.
Peering up at them from a lower ledge, Cindy sat with her back against the wall and legs stretched out in front of her. Nose bloodied, a goose egg mounded on her forehead over her left eye, she gave a little wave and managed a crooked smile with a fattened upper lip. “Hey. Got myself into a little pickle, didn’t I?”
“You sure did.” Hank put on a practiced smile—the kind rescuers use despite the seriousness of any given situation. A glance at Edward showed the same face—calm, reassuring, everything under control.
“Hang tight, sis. We’ll get you out of there.”
Cindy pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Okay.”
Hank scooched back a little with Edward and whispered, “Looks like all her limbs are working. The way she coiled her back just then without wincing makes me believe her spine is okay too.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
They moved forward again—smiles switched on.
“Cindy,” Hank said. “I’m going back to the house to get some climbing gear. Edward’s going to stay and keep you company, okay?”
“’Kay.”
Hank moved back into the trees with Edward and checked his cell phone reception. “Good, several bars. How ’bout yours?”
“Yup. I’m good.” Edward stuffed his phone back in his pocket.
“Dad has climbing gear stowed in a locker in the garage. I’ll get it and bring Dexter back with me. We could use the extra hands.” Hank held his palm toward Edward. “Golf cart keys?”
“Left them in the ignition.”
“Okay, then.” Hank gave a nod. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Come on, Cricket.”
* * * *
The cart kicked up a dust cloud as Hank skidded to a stop outside his parent’s garage. He rushed in and yanked the climbing gear duffel from the locker.
Dexter trotted across the yard from the patio as Hank threw the heavy bag into the backseat. “Did you find her?”
“Yeah, we found her all right.” His father’s car came down the serpentine drive. Hank raised both hands and waved the car toward him. It sped up and stopped by the golf cart less than a minute later.
The driver’s door opened and Hank’s dad stepped out. “What’s the matter, Son?”
Hank grabbed his arm and pulled him toward Dexter. “It’s Cindy. She fell off Hangman’s Cliff. Fortunately, she landed on a platform about thirty feet below. Looks like some roots and scrubs sticking out of the cliff face may have slowed her descent and saved her life.”
“I have a medical bag in my trunk. Let me get it.” His dad rushed back to his car.
“My father’s a doctor,” Hank said, meeting Dexter’s eyes. He zipped open the duffel, pulled out a harness and started strapping it on.
Car doors closed and the women hurried over. “What’s going on, Hank? What’s happened?” A cloud of worry shrouded his mother’s face as well as Audra’s as the women stood next to each other.
“Marley.” Hank’s father placed his hands on her shoulders and bent to look her square in the eye, “I want you to take Audra inside, and—”
“Has something happened to Edward?” Audra’s jaw quivered.
“Nothing’s happened to Edward.” Hank cinched the last harness strap tightly around his leg. “Cindy needs help getting off a ledge. She’ll be okay. But we have to go now.”
Dexter started the engine.
Hank’s dad mounted the passenger seat.
Hank slid into the back with the bag. “Mom, grab Cricket’s collar and take her inside, would you please? We don’t need her up there.” He double-tapped Dexter’s shoulder. “Get going while I prep the gear. My dad knows the way. And, do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Give Eddie a call and tell him we’re on our way.”
* * * *
Hank peeked over the edge of the drop-off and smiled. “Cindy, I’ll be down to get you in a few minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll be here.” She licked her lips. “Got any water up there? I’m kind of thirsty.”
Hank looked over his shoulder. “Dad, did you—”
“Yes.” His father nodded and spoke loud enough for Cindy to hear. “I threw some bottled water in my bag, Cindy. Hank will bring you some.”
Edward straightened the ropes and associated gear, bumped knuckles with Dexter and turned toward Hank. “We’re ready whenever you are. Sure you don’t want me to go down there and get her?”
“No.” Hank pushed himself backward and lowered his voice. “You’re her next of kin. If Dad determines that she needs to go to the ER, I expect you and Dexter to get her out of here ASAP. Hey, Cindy.”
Her puffy lip and lumpy head gave her a sad, vulnerable expression as she looked up. “Yeah?”
“All of us are ready up here. I’m on my way. I’ll land about ten feet from you to avoid the obstructions over your head.”
Hank put on his helmet and repelled to the ledge. He squatted in front of Cindy’s drawn knees, cracked open a bottle of water and handed it to her. “How’re you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess.” She wiped water dribbles from her chin and cocked her lip into a smirk. “’Bout time you got here.”
He laughed. “You sure are a sassy one, aren’t you? I think that’s what I’ll call you from now on. Sassy.”
She smiled. “I like it.”
“Cindy, can you hear me?” Hank’s father called, looking down from the rocky perch.
“Yes, I hear you.”
“Besides the obvious lumps and bumps, do you have other injuries to tell us about? Any belly pain when you press your stomach, or bones you feel may be broken?”
Hank retrieved a rescue harness from a bag dangling at his side. “My father is a doctor. Not sure if anyone told you that.”
Cindy poked around her stomach and aimed a raised voice topside. “Mr. Shultz, I mean, Dr. Shultz, I don’t feel any pain in my guts and I don’t think I broke anything except my face.”
Hank chuckled. “The girl with the broken face. That’d make a good title for a mystery novel. Do you think you could stand up
, or at least get on your knees so I can put the rescue harness on you?”
“I think I can stand. Didn’t try before because I was afraid I’d fall. But now that you’re here, I feel a lot safer.”
Hank helped her up and started putting the harness on. “This might feel tight and uncomfortable, but it has to be that way.”
“No problem. I understand. Wouldn’t want to fall out of it.” She gave a little laugh and rubbed the lump on her forehead.
“What’s so funny?”
“Do I look like the girl who fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down?”
Hank pulled a strap on her chest, jerked her forward and locked his gaze to hers. “Lumps, bumps and all, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Sassy.” He gave her hair two little tugs.
Her swollen lips curved into an awkward smile. “Thanks, big guy.”
Hank clipped the last carabineer in place. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s get out of here, shall we?”
Chapter 11
“It was nice meeting you, Dex.” Cindy offered a handshake.
Dexter grasped her hand and leaned in to whisper. “I’ll call you,” he pecked her cheek, “whether you like it or not.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. If nothing else, Dex was persistent.
Dex got into his rental car, shot her a wink, and left.
Audra gave Cindy a tearful hug and moved on to Hank and the Shultzes to continue her farewells.
“I hate good-byes.” Cindy pressed her face into Edward’s neck and pulled his scent deep into her memory. “I’m not sure I can let go of you.”
“I love you, Cindy.”
“And I love you.”
Edward pushed back to arm’s length and smiled. He glanced at Hank. “Try to keep my turkey-chasing sister out of trouble, would you?”
“I’ll do my best to keep an eye on her.”
The warmth of Edward’s embrace faded all too quickly, and the closing of his car door struck a sad note of finality, signaling the end of the best weekend ever. The rental car wended through the wooded drive, and Edward waved one last time before pulling onto the main road and driving away.
In Cindy’s peripheral vision, the Shultzes strolled hand in hand to the house and entered through the patio door. She fixed her focus on the spot where Edward’s car drove out of sight, her heart squeezing tight. She had a brother—a real live, in-the-flesh brother. And he loved her.
“You okay, Sassy?” Hank came from behind and took her shoulders in a gentle grip.
“I miss them already.”
“I figured you would.” His thumbs massaged her shoulders, rubbing comfort and relaxation into muscles sore from yesterday’s fall and tense from today’s separation anxiety. If she wasn’t careful, Hank’s therapeutic TLC would push a moan out of her. If that happened, her cheeks would be set afire with embarrassment and she’d never be able to look him in the eye again.
As if he could read her mind and sense her growing uneasiness, Hank slid his thumbs across her shoulders one last time with a deep, soothing stroke, then dropped his hands to his sides and stepped up beside her. “Are you packed and ready to go, or do you need a few minutes?”
“I’m ready. Let me go get my things and say good-bye to your parents.”
* * * *
Gravel crackled as the Jeep rolled toward Cindy’s porch. Ever present in her rocker on the porch, weather permitting, Mrs. Baker looked up from her hook and yarn and waved.
“Hi, Mrs. B. Did you miss me?” Cindy called from the Jeep’s open window then got out of the vehicle.
Mrs. Baker dropped a powder blue crocheting project into a wicker basket, got up and descended the wooden steps. “Yes, I certainly—” She gasped. “Good heavens. What happened to you?”
Cindy smiled and ran her fingertips over the lump on her forehead. Half the size and half as tender as yesterday, it still took up a good bit of real estate on her face. “I sort of fell off a cliff, and—”
“Sort of, my foot.” Hank came around the Jeep carrying Cindy’s overnighter, mischief brewing in his eyes. “Truth of it is, Mrs. Baker, Cindy ran through the woods chasing an imaginary wild turkey like a stark-raving lunatic, fell off a cliff, and got herself stuck on a ledge below.”
“Imaginary?” Cindy gaped at him, her brows pulled tight. “The turkey was real, and I—”
“Mm-hmm. Sure it was.” He dodged her jab and chuckled before his little laugh turned into a warm smile. “Just teasing. Those woods are full of gobblers.”
Mrs. Baker patted Cindy’s arm. “Have you had a doctor look you over? That knot on your head scares me.”
“Hank’s father is a doctor, and he was very attentive to all my bumps and bruises.” Cindy looked at Hank. “By the way, what kind of doctor is he?”
“OB-GYN. He specializes in high-risk pregnancies and multiples. You know, twins, triplets, and such. Of course, he’s well able to handle all sorts of emergencies that have nothing to do with his specialty. You were in good hands. Great hands, in fact.”
“Thank God you’re all right.” Mrs. Baker gave Cindy a hug. “What would I do without you, my precious, precious friend?”
“You’d probably worry a lot less.”
Deep crow’s feet fanned from the corners of Mrs. Baker’s smiling eyes. “True, but life would be terribly boring.”
Hank set Cindy’s bag on the porch. “If you ladies will excuse me, I think I’ll get started on the car and see if I can figure out what’s wrong with it.”
* * * *
Hank rinsed a sudsy muck of grease and grime into the white enamel kitchen sink, lathered again with dishwashing liquid, and scrubbed his nails and knuckles with a small brush. Cindy stood nearby, towel in hand, waiting for him to finish. He flashed a smile. “I know it’s only four thirty, but I’m hungry. Let’s go out to eat.”
She dangled the towel on a hooked finger. “You don’t have to ring the dinner bell twice to get my attention. Count me in.”
“Mrs. B, we’re going out for an early dinner,” Hank said as they stepped out on the porch. “Why don’t you put your knitting away and join us?”
“I’m crocheting today, Hank, not knitting.” Mrs. Baker laughed. “Thank you for your kind offer, but my stomach’s been a little topsy-turvy today. A rain check, perhaps?”
“You bet. See you in a bit.”
They jumped into the Jeep and drove into the business district.
Bruno’s Italian Eatery. Hank did a double take at the signage painted on the restaurant’s red, white, and green awning, made a U-turn, and parked in the adjacent lot. He jogged around and opened Cindy’s door. “Eggplant Parmesan. That’s what I’m craving. With angel hair pasta, and bread and butter. And it better be real butter, not margarine, or I’m going to be ticked.”
“Yum. Eggplant Parm sounds good. Think I might have the same.”
Familiar aromas tempted his senses and drew him toward the front door with wide strides. Tiramisu. That’s what he’d have for dessert. He might even order it first, along with an appetizer of antipasto, breadsticks, and—
“Slow down, Hank. I’m practically jogging to keep up.”
“Sorry. Didn’t realize I was going so fast.” He pulled open the front door and swept his hand through the air. “After you.”
Hank dove into his meal as soon as the plate hit the table. Cindy stared with a toothy smile and laughter hiding behind merry eyes. He put down his fork and dragged a napkin across his mouth. “Guess I should have asked the blessing first. Seems I’ve gotten into some lazy habits in matters concerning my faith.”
Cindy placed her hand in the palm he extended across the table and bowed her head.
Hank prayed, “God, I’m sorry I didn’t put You first again. I’ll do better next time, I promise. Thanks for this meal and the beautiful woman you placed across the table to share it with. In Jesus
’ name, amen.”
“Amen.” Cindy twisted a piece of bread from the crusty loaf, slathered it with butter and took a hefty bite. “Mm. Delicious. It’s real-deal butter.”
“Good.” He wound his pasta with a fork and spoon and shoveled it into his mouth.
“This is a nice place. I used to pass by all the time on my way to work, but never stopped here to eat.”
Hank cut through the pile of eggplant with the side of his fork. “Good stuff, eh?”
“Yes, it is. Slide the stinky cheese over here, would you please?”
Smiling, Hank pushed the shaker of Parmesan toward her.
“This is the fairy dust of Italian food, don’t you think?” Cindy shook a blizzard of cheese over everything on her plate. “We’ll have to come here again, try different things, and see if we just happen to hit the jackpot with the eggplant, or if everything else is equally delish.”
We. Music to his ears. Vivacious, good natured, and beautiful, Cindy was more than any man could ever hope for. Certainly more than he’d ever dared to dream. Grace, decorated with a smattering of endearing clumsiness, topped the main course of her assets like a perfect blend of Parmesan and Romano. If she had any unlikable traits, she kept them well hidden. He’d be crazy not to pursue a lasting relationship with her.
Cindy sucked a long strand of angel hair through puckered lips. Its tail end whipped upward, painting a narrow stripe of red sauce that nearly touched her lower lashes. “Uh-oh, it got me good that time, didn’t it?” She laughed.
“It’s nice to eat with someone who isn’t afraid to get a little messy.” Hank beckoned with a curved finger and wiped her cheek with a napkin when she leaned in. “Another inch and you’d have gotten your eyeball.”
“Thanks.” She sat back. “Speaking of thanks, I almost forgot to tell you how much I appreciate you fixing my car. How much do I owe you for parts and labor?”
He pulled a folded receipt out of his wallet and slid it across the table. “Hundred ten for the alternator.”
“And labor? That’s a tight little engine. Everyone who’s ever worked on it has commented how hard it is to get at things. A knuckle buster—that’s what they called it. And, with hands as big as yours, surely—”
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