by Rebecca Rode
I tried not to think about Bianca in her little car. Was she stuck somewhere as well? Was she even still on the road? There were several steep drop-offs along Hackberry Road, and if she’d driven off one, she could be hurt or killed.
Pushing back the panic, I shoved the transmission into reverse, somehow managing to back up and go forward again, steering away from the rut we’d been lodged in. We continued to creep along, rocking and lurching. The rain kept coming, worse now, as if God had opened up heaven and was dumping massive buckets of water directly on top of the truck.
I hit the brake. “I can’t see anything.”
What little I could see of Declan’s face by the light of the instrument panel was grim. “It might pass in a bit. I’ll take a look around.” He hopped out of the truck.
I opened my door as well. My first foot sank calf-deep into the mud, my shoe disappearing altogether, and my second foot went even deeper. I could see several feet in front around me, and we were still on the road, but near the truck itself, most of the dirt had washed away.
I climbed back into the truck, shaking off as much mud as I could. Declan was already back in the cab. “Let’s try to move the truck a bit off the road,” he suggested. “In case someone comes along.”
Maybe my sister. My heart lightened for the briefest moment at the idea, but just as fast I realized it wasn’t going to happen. If my wheels were half-buried, those on her little car would be have been stuck a long time ago.
I wasn’t going to think about the drop-offs.
Going forward wasn’t successful, and going backward didn’t work this time either. I gave Declan a frustrated stare. “I’m afraid we aren’t going anywhere.”
Chapter 6
NOW WHAT? I WANTED TO ask this aloud, but I was too afraid he’d say we had to give up, and I wasn’t ready to do that just yet.
“We can use the shovel to dig out once the rain eases,” he said.
That was a good idea, but in the meantime, I had another one. “Did you see any posts along that side of the road?”
Sections of Hackberry Road had posts marking the edge, normally when the road went close to an incline or to mark the location of a few cabins in the woods. In some spots they went for a mile or more.
“Yes.”
“Then if we can’t drive, I’m going to walk down as far as I can find the posts. That way I won’t get lost and I can find my way back. My sister might not be too far. She started out before the rain.”
Declan tilted his head and studied me. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“She’s all the family I have.” I swallowed hard, honesty forcing me to add, “I mean, I have a lot of foster sisters, and we’re pretty close, but that’s different. Bianca . . . I’ve taken care of her since we were little. She’s only a year younger than I am, and we’ve never lived apart until now. She’s everything to me.”
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
“You should stay here.”
“Zoey, I’m coming.” His voice was like a caress that sent shudders down my spine. I hadn’t felt this way since . . . well, I couldn’t remember when. I’d thought my past had made it impossible for me to ever feel this captivated by a man, no matter how much I’d dreamed about it happening.
“Thanks.” My mouth was dry, as if stuffed with a wad of cotton.
Grabbing the shoulder straps of his canvass bag, Declan retrieved it from the floor, pulling out two small packets and tossing me one. I examined it in admiration. “You brought rain ponchos?”
“Hey, I’m an Eagle Scout.”
“Good for me, I guess.” I laughed as we put on our packs and then the ponchos. Now if I found my sister, the blanket and jacket I had for her should be mostly dry.
Declan debated on taking the shovel and the rope, but in the end he opted only for the rope because it fit into his pack. We started out, buffeted by the wind and the rain, the mud sucking at our feet. Walking just off the road in the rocks and vegetation made it slightly easier to navigate.
From post to post we pushed on. My bare hands turned numb with cold, but I didn’t dare tuck them into my pocket for fear of losing my balance and ending up with my face planted in the sludge. We’d been walking about thirty minutes, covering maybe a half mile, when the posts gave out, angling up a sudden incline that had to lead to a cabin.
Declan stopped and looked at me. “If we go on, we’ll probably veer off the road. We could get lost.”
I surveyed the dark, muddy world around us. He was right. The only thing we had were those posts. “Guess we head back to the truck,” I said.
He shook his head. “If there’s a cabin up there, maybe someone’s home. They might have a landline with phone service.”
A particularly strong gust of wind sent me scrambling for a foothold. Declan reached out and steadied me through the plastic poncho. “Okay,” I agreed. If we did find a phone, I could call Lily or Ruth to see if there was news about my sister.
I clung to that hope as we struggled up the hill. On a clear day, we would have been able to get my truck up the incline, but now it was a slick, muddy mess. I fell, one hand sinking into the mud a few inches before Declan dragged me back to my feet. Ten paces later, he went down on one knee, and I had to pull him up. Then we both sank into the same deep hole and had to shove and yank our way out together. Tears squeezed from my eyes. I was tempted to lie down in the mud and give up, but my past had taught me to survive. To move one foot at a time and to focus on surviving only the current minute.
Besides, there was Bianca to rescue. So I accepted Declan’s help up yet one more time, and then five steps later steadied him before he fell.
The top of the hill leveled out and the posts stopped at a grouping of trees. We staggered a short way through them, grateful for the vegetation that made our footing more secure. Finally, we reached a small clearing where a cabin, overgrown with brush, stood like a forgotten memory. There were no lights, and from the appearance of the cabin, there hadn’t been lights there—or anything else—for years.
That meant no landline. I wanted to start back down the hill to follow the posts some more, but I had to admit it would be useless. We could walk within five feet of Bianca in this downpour and not see her.
“Let’s go inside,” I shouted. “Rest for a bit.”
We hurried to the porch, slipping and sliding on the patches of mud between the plants. The sagging porch threatened to collapse as we stepped onto it, and I had a sudden vision of the entire cabin crumpling with us inside.
Declan tried the door, but it was nailed shut. A board had also been nailed over the window, but when he pulled at it, the piece came loose and wind blew away into the trees. Declan used his elbow to punch out the remains of broken glass before climbing through. I handed him my flashlight, and he directed the beam around the place as I followed him inside.
An ancient couch was the only furniture in the modest room, and trash littered the ground, dancing now with the wind coming through the window. The holes in the couch and the droppings of several animals, mostly in the corners of the room, indicated that we weren’t the first intruders.
Declan flashed the light over the roof. “Looks strong enough, I think,” he said. “Not a single leak.”
“We won’t be here long. The rain has to stop soon.” I don’t know if I was trying to convince him or myself. I was relieved to be out of the deluge, but I needed to get back out there as soon as possible. My sister needed me.
“Let’s look at the rest of the place.” He started into a tiny hallway leading to a room that turned out to be a miniscule kitchen. It held a broken chair, several taped boxes, and an old wood-burning stove, which Declan eyed with interest. The kitchen roof did have a leak in one corner, but the rest looked sturdy enough.
Further exploration down a narrow hallway revealed a tiny bedroom. Declan ran the light over the room as I stepped inside. As the light touched the focal point of the room, an old bed with a shredded mattress, it came alive
with movement. Tiny gray bodies erupted from the torn padding like a small volcano. Even over the storm, I heard indignant squeaks.
After spending years sleeping in my uncle’s crowded junk room, and now working at the sanctuary, I wasn’t bothered by mice, but that didn’t mean I wanted to wade into the squeaking melee. Instinctively, I turned fast and banged right into Declan, propelling us both into the hallway.
We both froze as he reached out to steady me. His hands felt oddly warm even through my jacket, which had to be my imagination. It didn’t matter. Every part of me was aware of him. My eyes raised slowly to his. I already knew he’d be looking at me, but I hadn’t expected it to be with that expression. I recognized it because I felt the same desire.
My heart threatened to pound out an entire symphony. The rain crashed against the cabin and thunder boomed in accompaniment, but all of that could have been on another continent for the notice we gave it. Neither of us moved. Panic grew inside me. I didn’t know what to do. Rather, I knew what I wanted, yet something in me was terrified to make it happen.
It’s just a kiss. I wanted to move closer, but my limbs refused the order.
Declan swallowed hard and took a step back. His eyes still pierced mine, but his voice was casual as he said, “The kitchen’s probably better for us to wait it out.”
“I guess the extended mouse family is a little much?” Just like that I could speak again.
Declan gave an exaggerated shudder. “I confess. Mice are the only animals I really don’t like.” He leaned past me and grabbed the door, pulling it shut. “We should try to put something over the window in that front room to block the wind.”
My heartbeat was starting to return to normal, but there was a huge part of me that was disappointed. He’d felt it, hadn’t he? Even if he had, being attracted to me didn’t mean he wanted a relationship.
Back in the first room, we looked around for something to block the window, but nothing presented itself, so we ended up hefting the couch and standing it on end at an angle against the window. Two mice bolted from the couch and disappeared into the mounds of trash. The couch didn’t keep out all the wind and rain, but it was better than before.
Declan waved my flashlight. “Let’s see if we can start a fire. I think I saw some wood.”
In the kitchen, he returned my light and dug in his pack for a larger flashlight that doubled as a lantern. He placed it on the floor near the stove. While he checked the flue and chose some wood from the scattered pile, uncovering several more mice, I cleared a place on the floor with the broken chair leg. Then I removed my poncho and scraped off as much mud as I could from my shoes and pants before taking out the lap blanket I’d brought from the store.
“I’m freezing,” I said. “But it’s not really all that cold in here, is it?” I hoped Bianca still had a blanket in her car.
“Cold enough.” Declan withdrew a larger blanket from his pack. “Try this one instead.”
I laid the surprisingly heavy blanket down on the wood floor, then settled on it, keeping my shoes and the bottom of my pants off the material. I was shaking now that I’d stopped moving. Declan pulled off his poncho and grabbed the smaller blanket from my backpack, settling it around my shoulders.
He dropped beside me. “Should get warm here in a minute.”
“You brought matches.”
“Actually, it was a lighter. Let me see your wrist. It might be getting infected. Maybe that’s why you feel so cold.”
“It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt.” That was mostly true, but I let him take my hand anyway.
He pushed up my sleeve a few inches. My hand burned with his touch, and something inside me ached. He started to push up my sleeve further, but I pulled it back down.
Instead of commenting on that, he said, “Does it hurt a lot when I squeeze it?” He pressed gently on the bandage.
“No.” I couldn’t feel anything except where a few of his fingers brushed my skin at the edge of the gauze.
“Good.” He didn’t let me go.
Wind rushed in my ears, wind that had nothing to do with the storm raging outside the cabin. Panic slid around the edges of my mind, but I pushed it away. Being here with Declan, even in the midst of this ridiculous storm, was right in the way that breathing was right. All worry about my sister aside, everything in my life seemed to have led to this moment.
Chapter 7
“ZOEY,” DECLAN SAID IN A low, sexy whisper that played havoc with my pulse. His hand traced the soft inner flesh of my arm above the bandage, moving higher. I couldn’t pull away. His fingers went still higher, snagging slightly on my raised scars. Was there any chance he’d think I’d run through a glass door?
No, of course not. No accidental scars could ever be so regular.
He looked down, his fingers continuing to glide over my skin. Why did it have to feel so good? “Something must have hurt you badly to make you do this.”
I didn’t look at him as I answered. “It was a long time ago.”
Now would come more questions—and the disgust. He’d seen past the outer shell I showed to the world, and I felt naked, exposed. I started to pull away. He didn’t resist, letting me slip from his hold.
“What happened?”
There it was. Question number one. I dragged my eyes up to his, expecting distaste, but the only emotion I could detect was compassion and interest. That was surprising. But I didn’t want him to like me for my brokenness.
“I mean, if you want to tell me.” He waited, not pushing.
I couldn’t seem to tell him that I didn’t want to talk, or that it was none of his business. Because more than anything I wanted a chance with him, and if there was to be any sort of a romantic relationship between us, I had to tell him. Though I was healed, there were still ghosts in my past. There would always be, and they would color my future. They wouldn’t control me or my choices, or decide my happiness, but sometimes the wounds of my past still hurt almost more than I could bear.
“My mother died when I was twelve. My sister and I went to live with my uncle.” I looked away again, not wanting him to see my face. I stared at the black stove, felt the heat radiating from it, a heat that didn’t reach my heart. My fingers plucked at the coarse blanket beneath us. “It took less than six months for him to begin touching me. I tried so hard to avoid him, but he . . .” I choked, unable to go on.
His hand reached for mine, interlacing our fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
I let my eyes find his again—looking steadily at me without censure. There was no need to say more, not now. I didn’t have to say how my uncle’s friends had added to my abuse, and how isolated I’d felt with no one to turn to for help. “It took three years, but we got away. I could see my uncle was starting to look at Bianca that way. So I took her and left.” I released his hand and pushed up my sleeve. “This was the way I coped with the pain and stress. At the time, it was all I had. I didn’t know there were better ways, or that I was making it worse.”
He nodded as if he understood, but I didn’t see how he could. Most people had no idea. “That was when you went to Lily’s House?”
“Well, there was no Lily’s House until seven or eight months later, but we did meet Lily then. She saved us. She’s saved a lot of kids.”
“Like you saved Bianca.”
How easily he had pinpointed the one thing I was proud of in my life. “Yes.”
His eyes wandered over my face as tenderly as any caress. “We’ll find her, Zoey. We will.”
My heart was doing that odd pounding thing it had done outside the tiny bedroom, and I was falling, falling down a hundred flights of stairs, no handrail in sight. His face moved closer. Slowly. Giving me the chance to flee. I didn’t want to flee.
Yet a part of me was even more frightened now that I’d told him about my past. Declan wasn’t like the guys I’d tried dating in college. He mattered.
As if seeing the hesitation in my eyes, he started to pull away.
N
o! Making an abrupt decision, I closed the last inch between us. Our lips touched, first gently and then with more passion. His arms went around my body, holding me tight. Heat seeped through me, clear to the ends of my fingers. Amazing.
His lips deviated from my mouth, trailing over my cheek to nibble on my ear and then tracing down my neck. His warm breath made me shiver. Then his lips found mine once more, and time stopped. I had no idea how long we sat there kissing, but when we finally drew apart, I wasn’t the slightest bit cold.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked, his voice raw.
It seemed like a loaded question, so I shook my head.
“Since the moment you knelt down in front of Cuddles and started scratching her neck.”
“Don’t be silly. You didn’t say two words, remember?”
“I’ve got eyes, Zoey Morgan. And you’re one of the strong, bravest, beautiful people I know.” He kissed me again, and I kissed him back. His touch sent passion racing through my veins. No panic. I trusted him. Maybe because I’d watched him with the animals, and that had given me a glimpse into his soul. All these weeks we’d worked together, and I thought he was unreachable, but he’d been as attracted to me as I was to him.
I came up for a little air. “Maybe you’re just searching for a wounded soul like you search for wounded animals.” I spoke only half in jest.
“We’re all wounded.” He leaned forward and kissed my nose. “Everyone. Just in different ways.”
“Oh, yeah?” It sounded cliché.
“Take Kitcat. His wife has cancer.”
I stifled a gasp. “What? I didn’t know.” Kitcat was a grizzled old man who had worked at the sanctuary longer than anyone except Stephen’s family.
“It’s not a secret, but he doesn’t talk about it much. And Ewan’s a recovering alcoholic.”
I knew that much because when we’d all gone out for a drink after the movie, everyone had ordered soft drinks to support him.