“Want one?”
Jacqueline jerked out of her reverie. Link was standing next to her, holding a golden brown orb that sagged precariously from the end of the long fork in his hand.
Unsteadily, she scrambled to her feet. “No.” How long had he been there? Had she said anything out loud?
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the goo into the dark swirling water. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh huh. Are you cold?”
“I’m fine.”
Link took her chin in his palm and raised it until she was looking at his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
His thumb caressed her cheek. “Tell me.” Sparks from the distant fire were reflected in his eyes.
Jacqueline jerked her head away and turned her back on him. “Nothing is wrong. I just don’t like marshmallows. The smell makes me ill.”
Link towered over her and simply stared. For several long minutes, she felt like a specimen in a bottle. He glanced from her face to her hands and she realized she’d been unconsciously rubbing her upper arms. “You’re cold, come nearer the fire,” he said softly.
“No.” The word came out sounding panic-stricken, but she was past caring what impression she made. “I like it here.”
After several thudding heartbeats, he nodded. “So that’s it.”
“What is?”
“You’re afraid of fire.”
“What kind of person do you think I am? Some weak little mouse that’s afraid to confront her own stupid fears?”
“That never occurred to me.” Link draped his arm around her shoulders in a companionable gesture. “Why don’t we take a walk? You can tell me why.” Jacqueline shook her head. “Fine. Then let’s just take a walk. If you feel like talking, you can.”
Jacqueline tried to wrench free of Link, but only succeeded in stumbling closer to him. “Okay, I’ll walk, but I don’t want to talk about fire.”
“It might help.” She didn’t believe that for a moment. “Was it a bad fire?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. It would have taken a blaze from hell to make someone as strong as you so upset. It was the one that killed Adam, wasn’t it?” The matter-of-fact tone of his voice shocked her.
“How did you know?”
“Mavis mentioned a scientist burning to death last year.” Link’s tone sounded accepting. Jacqueline gagged. “Did you watch him die?”
“I couldn’t see him.”
“And you couldn’t help.”
“I’d sprained my ankle and the f-flames. Oh, God, the flames.” Tears poured down her cheeks. “Flames were everywhere and they were so hot. So unbelievably hot. Even the doorknob to the house felt hot. Even while I dialed 911, I knew no one could have survived that blast.” Jacqueline shivered. Link’s arm tightened. “I felt so helpless. All I could do was stand there and watch everything I’d worked for go up in flames.” She took a shuddering breath. “It seemed like Adam screamed forever, but I know it wasn’t really him, he had to have died instantly, but there was this sound.” She wet her lips. “Probably heat expanding oxygen particles.” She swallowed. “And the stench.” She could still smell the singed hair and burned flesh. Bile rose in her stomach. Jacqueline took several deep breaths. Link hugged her tight. The steady beat of his heart against her cheek calmed her. “Adam wasn’t even supposed to be in the lab,” Jacqueline added in a choked whisper. “I always did the final check, but I’d sprained my ankle, so he checked the fax machine.” It was hard to talk around the lump in her throat. “My job killed him. I killed him because of a stupid soccer game.”
Link stroked her spine in a reassuring way. “You couldn’t have known.” Her tears spilled, drenching his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, his arms seemed like a protective cocoon.
“If I hadn’t played that game, I wouldn’t have torn those ligaments, and I’d have been able to do my job.”
“Then, you’d be the one dead.”
She shook her head. “The Fire Marshal said his cigarette ignited a gas leak. I don’t smoke.”
“Are you blaming yourself for living?”
“I— ” She struggled for breath. “I blame myself for not getting to the phone fast enough and for not dialing 911 right the first time.”
He hugged her tighter and made soothing sounds. All the while, his hand caressed her spine. A lump blocked her throat. Jacqueline swallowed hard. “Adam won’t blame you.” She shook her head. “Did you force the cigarette on him?
Jacqueline shook her head, again. “He wanted to quit, but couldn’t.”
“There’s a reason for everything, a destiny. Obviously that was his.”
Could Link be right?
13
The lemony scent of Jacqueline’s perfume saturated Link’s dreams, so by the next morning he couldn’t look her in the eye. While his discomfort scored smiles from Tempest, Carmen looked perplexed. Jacqueline merely shrugged. Phillip stayed mercifully oblivious to personal interactions, so Link could relax as their kayak drifted down the river. He was so pleased not to be asked questions that he told Phillip their route for the day was easy to single-hand and he encouraged Phillip to read his book or just watch the scenery.
The next night, Link again dreamed that Jacqueline shared his sleeping bag, fulfilling wild fantasies he refused to admit to when awake. When he emerged from his tent the following morning, an unexpected glimpse of her swinging ponytail made his knees weak. Furious with his unruly subconscious, Link kept his canoe so far back, that when they did catch sight of the other one, it looked the size of a rubber ducky.
At dinner, Carmen bubbled with happiness, apparently believing he was fulfilling her hopes of getting to know Phillip, better. He was trying to find a polite way to mention that Phillip seemed happier after spending a day reading, when the tilt of Jacqueline’s chin made him forget to swallow. As he coughed, Link decided that since evasion had only intensified whatever his problem, he should confront his obsession. Thus, after the dishes were cleaned, Link approached Jacqueline. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Jacqueline glanced around the campsite, then back at him. “Me?” He nodded. “Where to?”
“Pick a direction.”
She scrutinized his face. “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something is wrong?”
Jacqueline crossed her arms over her chest in an exaggerated imitation of his stance. “Your body language.”
He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Better?”
She hesitated then asked, “We can’t talk about it here?” Link inclined his head toward Tempest, then shook his head. Jacqueline glanced at the pouting teen, before she nodded in agreement. They were soon picking their way over a narrow trail. She tripped, then chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just wondering if this was a mountain goat super highway or an obstacle course.”
“It’s an expressway for Dahl sheep.”
When they could no longer hear Tempest’s high-pitched whine, Jacqueline stopped and looked at the rugged scenery. The steep slopes were gradually giving way to foothills and scraggly pines. Link peered into the shadows. If her stalker was upstream, he preferred a more open vista.
Jacqueline faced him. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Maybe I just wanted to get away from Tempest’s woebegone looks and the way she yowls so loud to bring attention to herself.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s probably part of your motive, but I think you’re worried about that kayak, and wondering if I know more than I’ve said.”
Not even his mother read him as easily as Jacqueline. The more he got to know her, the more he believed that she really was twenty-five instead of the fifteen he’d suspected. Did her height make her seem younger? “Well, what’s the answer?”
“I don’t know who is upriver, but I keep wondering why they are trying not to be noticed.” Her mout
h flattened. “I keep telling myself this land is so beautiful that it must be safe.” She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “No matter how often I repeat it, I know it’s easy to die anywhere. And the real truth is that out here, no one would ever be able to figure out what happened.” She paused for breath. “So if that kayaker is my stalker, he’s got a golden opportunity.” Jacqueline took a deep breath.
“But he hasn’t made any openly hostile moves.”
“Except the note.”
“True, but it could have other meanings.” She straightened her back and stared at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I can’t think of a civil meaning, especially in light of losing your husband, but I’m open to the possibility.”
“Every day, I imagine I’m going to be shot by a sniper.”
“You always seem calm.”
“I can’t win by having an emotional breakdown. Besides, I’m certain that if I have a destiny, hysterics won’t change it.”
“I’ve always believed that myself, but I don’t know if I could be as composed as you in your circumstances.” Which explained why he wondered how truthful she was.
“I’ve been stalked by this creep for three years.” Jacqueline closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Then, she straightened and looked at him. “Link, I’m embarrassed that I overreacted so badly to that note. The truth is, I think they’re worse than any face to face confrontation could be.” She might have a point. Jacqueline crossed her arms and stared into the distance. “Logic tells me I should be able to figure out who is stalking me and why they’re doing so.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t know anyone could be so persistent. Since those notes started arriving, I’ve learned to fear fire, the scent of plumeria, red ink and yellow paper. Isn’t that ridiculous? I know it’s stupid to be afraid of colors, but I am. And I despise myself for being so weak.” As she turned her face away, he saw a tear roll down her cheek. “I’m not calm, I’m pathetic.”
Link did something he’d wanted to do for days. He gathered Jacqueline into his arms and hugged her close. Her arms wrapped around him, as if she was trying to soothe and protect him in return.
Defending Jacqueline felt right. “You aren’t weak,” he assured the top of her head.
Her face buried deeper against his chest, and he felt her lips move, “Yes, I am. This fear of the unknown is horrible.”
Not knowing what to say, Link buried his face in her hair. A gentle breeze picked up a lock of her hair. It tickled his nose. It smelled of lemon and Jacqueline. The fragrance had such an erotic effect that keeping his mind on the conversation was a struggle. “You’ll get through this. I’ll help you.”
“I want to confront my stalker.”
“You can’t do that.”
She pushed away from him so roughly, she would have butted his nose if she’d been an inch taller. “Why not?”
“Think about where we are,” Link said.
She frowned up at him. Petite though she was, nothing about her appeared defenseless.
“I come from Texas,” he said. “The badlands aren’t far away from where I grew up. They’re rugged and beautiful, just like it is here, but every year people disappear.” Link took a deep breath. “Since we know there’s danger, we’re not sitting ducks. Or at least I hope we aren’t.” He smiled. “Except, now you have me wondering if the kayaker is your stalker and if he has a good high powered rifle.”
“If I’d had any idea he followed me to Fairbanks, I’d never have agreed to come with you. My presence puts you and the others in danger.”
“Accidents happen everywhere. Just because someone is stalking you doesn’t make him all-powerful. The fact that you know he is there gives you an edge you wouldn’t have against a random act of nature.”
“Like what happened to your father?”
“How’d you know about that?”
“Carmen told me that when you were growing up, he had an accident. She said he’s a paraplegic.”
“I’m surprised she mentioned it.”
“She seems to take your father’s paralysis for granted. What happened to him?” Jacqueline asked the question with genuine interest. Instead of brushing her off, his arms tightened around her, pulling her cheek against his chest. She snuggled against him. For the first time in his life, Link felt ready to face the past.
“Dad and I used to go fishing and camping together. Just me and him; since I was the oldest. By the time Carmen came along, and then a couple years later, the twins, dad and I had a pattern of spending Saturday mornings together doing guy things.” Jacqueline raised a brow. He grinned. “We built birdhouses, tied flies for fishing. Played catch. Shot baskets. Hiked.” He shrugged. “Guy things.”
“So, you think males are the only gender that like that sort of stuff?”
“Not any more.” Remembering was easier than he expected. “Dad was an industrial engineer. He started his own consulting business when I was seven. Money was tight at first, but he was building a good reputation and every month he and Mom had fewer fights about money. And no matter what, he always made time for me.”
“My philosophy is that we’re spirits having a human experience.” She grinned up at him. “I doubt if money is a heavenly factor.”
“Interesting idea.” Link smiled back. “You could be right.”
“Go on with your story.”
“On the weekends, when rodeos were nearby, Dad rode bulls. It was his hobby.”
“That’s how he got hurt? Getting thrown from a bull?” She tensed. “Did it stomp him?”
“No.” Link’s throat felt tight and dry. It took him three tries to swallow. “I only told you that so you’d get an idea of the physical type of man he was before the accident.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
“He’d flown up to Lubbock to see a factory they wanted to expand. The company plane hit wind shear.” Link couldn’t go on.
Jacqueline’s comforting arms tightened and her hands caressed his spine. “I’m sorry for him, for you and for the rest of your family. It must have been terrible.”
“The worst part was when we brought Dad home. I hadn’t been able to visit him in the hospital because I was too young and mom had only said he’d need help. I didn’t understand or accept his limitations.”
“Like I said, the unknown is usually worse.”
“I guess I built up unrealistic expectations, and I sure didn’t expect a paraplegic.” The lump was so large Link could barely breath. “When Dad came home, he was depressed and suicidal. I don’t know if he was like that in the hospital or if our reactions to him triggered it.” Link held onto Jacqueline as if she was his lifeline in a sea of misery. “I kept telling myself that he’d get better, but every day, he seemed worse.”
“When Grandpa died, Grandma said that if God loves you, he tests your strength and keeps testing you until you’re tungsten.”
“She is that.”
“But we were talking about your father. He was a very active man, and his world got turned upside down. How is he now?”
“Better.” Link felt a heavy weight leave his shoulders. Suddenly breathing was easier. “It took Dad a year to realize he could roll his wheelchair up to his drafting board. The worst part was that by that time, the clients he’d built up abandoned him.”
“They couldn’t wait?”
He shook his head. “They had timetables. As a business owner, I understand, but I didn’t back then.” He cleared his throat. “Medical bills soaked up everything. Dad filed for bankruptcy. And Mom got food stamps. I hated being the welfare kid.”
“No insurance?”
“The premiums cost too much.”
“Do you blame your father?”
He shrugged.
“How are your parents doing now?”
“Fine. Dad rebuilt his business, but it took him ten years. He’s riding again.” Link smiled at the bittersweet memory. Jacqueline blinked up at him. “Horses, not bulls. It’s a type of physical therapy.”
> “Thank goodness for that,” she said. Link felt tears scald his eyes, but he laughed instead of crying. “What?”
“The horse he rides has ambitions of being a steeplechaser.”
“So, despite everything that happened and the rough years, your dad is still a macho man, huh?”
“I guess so,” Link agreed. “As far as paraplegics go, Dad is still a bull rider.” Still the man he’d worshiped as a boy and mourned as an adult.
“Link, I appreciate you telling me about him, but you didn’t bring me up here to talk about your family, did you?”
He shook his head. “What do you know about this stalker-guy?” She shrugged, her look blank. “Do you really think he’d try the sniper approach?”
“I hope not.”
“After all this time, you must know something about him.”
“He always uses yellow legal paper.”
“That’s something.”
“And then there’s his handwriting; he always presses down hard on the paper. And he always very precise, like he wants every letter to be perfect.”
“So he’s specific,” Link mused.
Jacqueline blinked, then nodded. “He always mixes images of fire and love.”
“Odd choices.”
“He folds the letters into a different shape each time, but if he leaves a flower, it's always plumeria.” She frowned. “I’ve never been able to figure out any hidden meaning for the shapes or flower, but recently I've started to worry that the red ink could be a threat.” Jacqueline pushed away from him and began pacing.
Link’s arms felt empty. “Origami takes some of the menace away, doesn’t it?” Link said. “It reminds me of the way we sent notes in grade school.”
She stopped pacing and whirled to face him. “Could he be a juvenile?”
He shrugged. “Everything about this guy’s notes seems childlike. The heavy pressure, the shapes, even the anonymity.” A gust of wind blew Jacqueline’s hair into her eyes. With a quick, fluid movement, she shoved it away. While Link knew Jacqueline wasn’t trying to entice him, never the less she was succeeding.
Passion's Fire Page 10