Just a Kiss Away

by Jill Barnett

  She stirred under the blanket, her body aching in places she didn’t know she had. But it was a new ache, a wonderful ache, one that proved last night was no dream. They had experienced something she’d never known existed, and she wanted to go on experiencing it for the rest of her born days.

  It was truly amazing what a few weeks could do, and how much one could change. She would never have thought her view of Sam could change so. The roughness, rudeness, and danger she’d found so disagreeable at first were now things that intrigued her, even drew her to him. She’d discovered a strength in his roughness. What she first thought was rudeness was in reality a hard honesty. The dangerous side of Sam Forester turned out to be not something fearful, but a strong sense of valor.

  Somehow, somewhere along the way, she’d fallen for Sam. And right now she wanted to see him, have him hold her like he did last night and kiss her, because when Sam kissed her she felt as if the sun had risen inside her.

  Sighing, she opened her eyes. He wasn’t next to her. She turned over and spotted him sitting near the entrance to the cave. He was in the same position he’d been in when they were prisoners in Luna’s camp, his back braced against the rock wall, knees up, arms resting on them, hands dangling between. He watched the rain, and then, as if he sensed her, he turned.

  “Mornin’.” She smiled, pulled the blanket around her and got up, padding barefooted over to where he sat. She stood there, waiting for him to say something.

  He didn’t.

  A sense of uneasiness swept over her. She stepped closer to him and sat down, tucking the blanket under her arms. He still didn’t say anything, so she placed her hand on his arm and slowly trailed her fingers up the length of it.

  His gaze turned to her trailing hand, and he watched it for the longest time. Finally his hand covered hers and she felt better, for about two seconds. She realized his hand hadn’t covered hers out of affection, like it had so many times the night before. It had covered hers only to stop the movement of her fingers.

  “Don’t,” he said with no gentleness in the word. His tone was an order, coldly given.

  “Sam? I thought we . . .”

  He pinned her with that one-eyed stare.

  “I mean you and I . . . Why are you acting like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like last night didn’t happen.”

  “What about it?”

  She stared at him, stunned silent.

  “Expecting rings and roses? Sorry there, Lollipop, that’s not me.”

  His words registered. Her chest suddenly ached, as if something inside had just broken.

  “Don’t go naming the kids. It was just good sex, probably spurred by our circumstances, being stuck together like we’ve been.”

  The sun had just fallen from her bright sky. She tried to breathe; it was a struggle. Her throat closed and the back of her eyes burned. She felt helpless against all the things that welled within her. She loved him, but he didn’t love her back.

  “Oh . .” she whispered, backing away from him, unable to bear being close to him. Shame swelled over her, humiliating shame. She turned away, crying, but so devastated that her tears were silent. She had never cried such silent tears, but she had never lost her heart before, and now that she had, it was to a man who didn’t care. But how could he care? Sam Forester had no heart.

  The sunlight broke through the clouds just long enough for Lollie to make her decision. It had stopped raining hours ago, and now the sun was shining—she peered up at the cloudy sky—sort of, and she wasn’t about to endure any more of Sam than she’d had to. They’d spent eternal silent hours confined to the cave. The only break had been an occasional comment from Medusa or the sound of her eating peanuts.

  It had taken a while for Lollie’s hurt to change to anger. Now she was good and angry, not because Sam didn’t love her, although that fact still hurt, but because he’d treated her without respect for her feelings—just like her brothers and her father. And some little part of her wanted to hurt him back. She just couldn’t help that feeling. She needed to fight back.

  The fighting would start now.

  She knew how the bird affected Sam, so after a while she and Medusa had sung their repertoire of songs. Every time the bird had sung a chorus Lollie had given her a nut and taken great pleasure in watching Sam wince and grimace at Medusa’s loud munching. After a good half hour of crack! chomp! chomp! chomp! Sam had stood, twitched at the noise, and said something about getting some wood while the rain had let up. Then he’d left.

  She intended to do the same, but she wouldn’t come back. He’d said something about spitting in the eyes of the world. Well, she’d do that to him. If he didn’t want her, fine. After hurting her, using her, she didn’t think Sam Forester was worth the trouble it would take to spit.

  She picked up the bundle beside her and walked over to Medusa. “Come on, hop up. We’re going for a little walk.”

  Medusa hopped up on her shoulder, settled down, and began to whistle “Dixie.” She went to the entrance to the cave, where she stood and looked down. It had been steep climbing when they’d found the cave, but now, since the rains, the mountainside had eroded even more, and from her angle it looked very steep.

  “Spit at the world, Lollie,” she told herself. Then she squared her shoulders, gave Medusa a nut, and walked along the edge of the hillside, working her way toward a tree that stood on the right side of the entrance.

  Sam had worked his way up the muddy hill, his arms loaded with firewood. He’d made a decision, something that had been one hell of a lot easier without the accompaniment of that obnoxious bird. He would talk to Lollie, explain that they had no future. He figured he could live with that. It was honest. What he couldn’t live with was the look of shame and hurt she tried to hide from him so proudly. Somehow she’d gotten to him. Somehow that little southern woman had a damn hard grip on him, and he’d never have thought that possible.

  They were so different. She had family, respect, social standing, wealth. He had money; his earnings over the last ten years had been substantial enough that when he wished to stop working, he could. Nothing had ever made him think he wanted to stop what he was doing. He’d always imagined that any other way of life would be boring. Of course he’d never known anything but fighting—fighting his way out of the slums and fighting for profit and excitement.

  Lollie’s life couldn’t have been more different from his. She didn’t have to fight for anything. Everything was given to her, just because of who she was and who her family was. That kind of acceptance wasn’t something he could understand or respect. In fact, he still wasn’t quite sure what it was about her that got to him. But something did, and whatever it was, it touched a place he didn’t want touched.

  Time would make it easier for her, and once she was back home where she belonged, she’d eventually forget him. But he doubted if he’d ever forget her face and the way it had changed from joy to confusion to devastation. He did know that the sooner he put an end to this, the better it would be for both of them. But that didn’t make the doing of it any more palatable.

  What he wanted was to do the same thing he’d done last night—hold her, kiss her, lose himself in her until nothing else mattered but her. To do so would be crazy, sort of like continuing to walk the wrong way once you realized you were lost. Sam knew one thing for sure: a part of him was lost.

  Life could deal a man the strangest hands. Who’d have thought it possible? Lollie LaRue and him, Sam Forester—unbelievable. Jesus Christ, was he sunk.

  He shook his head, resigned to the inevitable, and he climbed up to the cave and dropped the armful of wood. He straightened and scanned the cave. He couldn’t see Lollie. He stepped deeper inside and looked in the dark corners.

  Nothing.

  An uneasy feeling coiled inside him. He ran to edge of the pool. Nothing. Then he realized the bird was gone. That stupid damn woman had left, alone.

  “Aw crap,” he muttered, r
unning to the cave entrance and slowly scanned the densely treed area below. His trained eye covered every inch of the panorama. He didn’t see a sign of her. He squatted down and looked for signs of her trail in the soft mud hillside. Her boot prints went along the east side, and he followed them until he reached the first tree.

  There he found two peanut shells and smiled. This wouldn’t be so difficult after all. The two of them were leaving a trail that could be found by a blind man—or a one-eyed soldier.

  “Shh!” Lollie said to Medusa as she listened to the sounds of the jungle. She could have sworn she’d heard someone. She peered out from behind a plump, vine-tied tree trunk just as a small molelike animal moved past. It had beady little eyes that reminded her of that awful Colonel Luna.

  She looked up at the thick forest surrounding her and again felt uneasy. She listened a little longer to all the sounds, the dark sounds—hums and whistles and screeches. Some of the birds in the crowns of the trees sounded just like humans, dying humans. The deeper she traveled, the scarier the noises became, and the darker the forest. She glanced upward. The clouds had completely swallowed any patches of blue sky, and she thought she heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.

  “Awk! I wish I was in Dixie. Hurrah! Hurrah!”

  “So do I Medusa, so do I.” She looked around the dark, thick rain forest with it tall ominous trees, vines that looked like snakes hanging all around her, and the noise, the horrible noise. “You know what? It was really stupid to take off all alone.”

  “Awk! Stupid bitch!” Medusa’s voice had lowered into a perfect imitation of Sam’s muttering.

  “Did Sam call me that again?”

  “Awk! Damn Yankee!”

  She smiled. The bird had that right. “It would serve him right if I went back and gave him enough trouble to make him never forget what he did. In fact . . .” She turned and looked at Medusa. “You know what? We should have never left. He’s the one who’s acted like . . . well, like Sam. Right, Medusa?”

  “Awk! I’m Medusa. I’m a mynah! Sam’s an ass!”

  “I won’t argue that point,” Lollie mumbled, her head churning with the bud of a new idea, a much better one and a much safer one. “Since he’s the problem, why should we leave the cave? This was a dumb idea.” She paused and shook a warning finger at the bird. “But don’t you tell him I said that. I’d die before I’d admit to Sam that I’d lived up to his expectations.”

  She handed Medusa another peanut, a bribe. “We’re going back. He might not love me, but he’s not gonna forget me. I’ll make sure of that.” She turned and marched back the way she’d come.

  Ten minutes later, as she made her way through the edge of the basin forest, it began to rain again. She looked up at the mountain and could see the dark entrance to the cave. If she cut across to the right, she could get there without having to climb that steep hillside. From the bottom she could see that the other side was less treacherous.

  “Come on, Medusa, we’re going back a quicker way.” She turned off her old trail just as the first drops of rain splattered to the basin floor.

  The rain came down in sheets, sending any evidence of Lollie’s trail running down the hillside. Sam pushed off from the tree where he’d stopped to try to determine her direction. She’d been traveling southeast, so he had continued that way even after the rain washed her tracks away.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lollie! Lollie!” He waited, but the only reply was the thrumming of the rain and a distant rumble of thunder. He whistled the shrill signal Jim used to call the bird. Nothing.

  This was all his fault. He’d been pretty hard on her, and he’d meant to be, but he’d had no idea she would do something like this. Although now that he thought about it, he realized he should have figured as much. It was just the kind of stupid thing she’d do, especially after the stupid thing he’d done.

  If she was hurt, or worse, he’d never forgive himself. He sagged against a tree, respite from the torrents of water raining down from the sky. He cupped his hands again and called her name.

  No answer.

  He moved on, the mud so deep now that it came almost to his knees. Rivers of water flowed around the trees, dragging vines and plants and ground debris with them, but worse yet, he’d seen a vampire snake slithering against the tow of the water. Rains like this could wash every deadly reptile and insect right into her, and she’d never know what hit her.

  “Lollie! Lollie!” he called, stumbling in the mud and dragging himself up again.

  Lightning cracked across the almost black sky, and it rained so hard he could barely see three feet in front of him. His foot hit some loose mud, and the hillside gave way. He slid down, his body flowing on a stream of mud and water. He grabbed a tree and pulled himself out of the flow, then up, where he watched the water run around him.

  The most incredible feeling of despair welled inside him. He had to find her.

  A hour later he pulled himself up and out of the water again. The basin floor was a lake, the surrounding hillsides little more than rivers, carrying monsoon rains into the valley below. But worse yet, it was dark. He looked back over his shoulder, knowing he couldn’t see her, couldn’t find her in this rain. He crawled up the hill, making his way back to the cave. Maybe he could light a fire and signal her somehow. Maybe she’d see it and come back.

  He felt so damned helpless. Never in his entire life had he felt so powerless, completely unable to do anything but wait. He wanted to punch something. He wanted some sense of control. He had none.

  He moved to the trees alongside the cave. The ground gave way, and he slid back down the hillside. He lay in the muddy mire and looked up. The hillside was even steeper than before, almost straight up, and the rain still came down so hard that he could see only halfway up the hill. He swiped his hair from his face and grabbed a long exposed root. He pulled himself up, hand over hand, slipping only when one of the tree roots broke. He climbed onto the bed of roots near the base of the tree. The woody roots weren’t as slick as the mud, and he could get his footing. He slid both arms around the tree and pulled his body up and over until he was safely on the sheltered side of the trunk. He stood there, catching his breath before he moved on to the next tangle of roots and slowly worked his way up the hillside.

  He reached the tree nearest the cave and crawled toward the entrance. The rain slackened a bit, and he could see the glow from the fire within. Lightning cracked, thunder boomed, and a huge muddy section of the hillside slid over him. He held on and finally dragged himself up to the cave. He lay there with his muddy head on his aching arms, panting from the struggle to pull against the weight of the mud.

  “No, no. Listen closely. It’s ‘Look away, look away, look away, Dixieland.’ “

  Sam’s head shot up at the sound of Lollie’s voice. She sat in the warm, dry, mudless circle of the fire teaching that goddamn song to a group of Igorot natives. She munched on something. He wiped the mud from his nose. It smelled like meat—cooked meat. Something they hadn’t had since they’d left the camp.

  She tossed a bone over her shoulder and reached out. One of the men gave her a beaming smile of worship, then cut off a slice from the huge hunk of cooked meat that was spitted over the fire. She sat there like a queen before her subjects, eating the meat and chatting away with those men who couldn’t understand a word she said.

  All this time his mind had been filled with the horrors of what could have happened to her. He’d been scared she was hurt or worse. But she’d been back here all the time. Safe, dry, warm, and having a great old time eating and singing.

  He crawled onto his knees, mud dripping from his head and his patch string, leaves stuck to his cheeks. He couldn’t speak. His hands began to itch with the sudden need to squeeze something—her throat would be nice for starters.

  She must have sensed his presence, because she turned and glanced at him.

  “Oh, hi, Sam.” She turned her attention back to the native men while d
istractedly handing the bird a piece of banana.

  Red. He saw nothing but red. His shout of pure rage echoed through the cave, and he heard it, but it was as if it wasn’t him. He dove at her, his hands reaching for her.

  In an instant he was flat on the ground, natives all over him like fruit flies on papaya.

  “Let me at her! Let me at her!” He struggled to break their hold, madder than hell. “You stupid bitch! I’ve been searching this whole goddamn valley for you! For two hours! For two frigging hours!” He pulled, trying to break free of the natives’ hold.

  Her face had been startled at first, then a little frightened, and now it looked angry. The damn woman looked bloody angry.

  “I told you not to call me that.” She glared at him.

  He glared back. “I’ll call you any damn thing I want, especially when the phrase fits!” He struggled again, then shouted at the men who held him, “Let me go, dammit!”

  They turned toward Lollie, looking for her to tell them what to do. He couldn’t believe it.

  “Let me go!” he spouted off in Tagalog.

  They ignored him and turned to her again, chanting, calling her a golden princess.

  He gave her a look that could almost singe off the rest of that blond hair. “Tell them to let me go.”

  She glanced at her fingernail and made a fuss about cleaning it. He wasn’t fooled one bit.

  “Lollie,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  She glanced up at him. “Why should I?”

  “Because if you don’t, when I get loose—which I can promise you I will—you’ll wish you had.”

  “I think not.”

  “Tell them, now!”

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head.

  The natives looked from him to her. He glared at them and they muttered something. The only word he made out was “madman.” That was the problem. His anger showed. He needed to reason with her. Well, he thought, “persuade” was a better term, since reasoning with her would be like trying to fight a war with a squirt gun. “Tell them to let me go and I won’t do anything.”