FORGOTTEN VOWS

by Maggie Shayne

  The car passed over sun-dappled pavement, beneath leafy green bows and needled limbs. It bounded through dips and potholes, and Ash slowed down.

  "This road, wasn't it?"

  She nodded as he approached the narrow dirt track and turned the car onto it. He drove a little farther. The track simply ended at a copse of maple saplings. Coming to a stop, he twisted the key, and they both got out. He came around the car to meet her, put his arm around her shoulders and walked toward the barely discernable footpath through the trees. A short distance later, they emerged onto a mat of green rolling gently down to the shore of Lake Oshiaki.

  Ash held her closer. "We forgot the fishing poles this time. Whatever will we do to pass the time?"

  Joey tipped her head back, inhaling to experience the full impact of the place—the pines, the lake water, the wild-flowers. "We could swim," she suggested.

  "That wasn't exactly what I was thinking."

  "I know." She smiled up at him, the relief she felt in being away from that sense of menace making her feel playful. "But we could still swim."

  "We didn't bring—" he slanted her a mischievous glance "—swimsuits. But I don't see that as a problem."

  She lifted her eyebrows and looked at the lake. "Could be snapping turtles."

  "Trying to back out, are you?"

  He lunged for her, catching her up in his arms and striding toward the water as if to throw her in, clothes and all. She laughed, and struggled with him, and they wound up on the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughter. She was on top of him, and he caught her face between his palms and kissed her thoroughly. Then he rolled her off him and rose to his feet. He reached one hand down to help her stand. She took it and let him pull her upright

  "Let's do something," he said. "Before I lose my head."

  She lowered her gaze. "I like it when you lose your head, Ash."

  He growled deep in his throat and drew her to him for one more searching kiss. "It's broad daylight, honey, and I'd never forgive myself if some hunter or someone else came along." He looked at her with mock severity. "No one sees my wife naked but me. Got that?"

  Her brows shot up. "Well, I guess I'll have to start wearing clothes to the supermarket, then." When he stopped laughing she slipped an arm around his waist. "Let's walk a little."

  "You sure you're up to it?"

  She nodded. "A short walk won't kill me. It only aches a little today. Besides, if it gets too painful you'll have to be chivalrous and carry me."

  He chuckled, put an arm around her and began moving along the lake's curved shore. "So what are you going to wear to the market? Leather pants and a biker jacket?"

  "Of course not. I'm saving those for the PTA meetings I'll attend with our kids."

  He stopped walking and turned to look into her eyes, his own filled with some unrecognizable emotion. She saw his throat move as he swallowed hard, but then he began walking again.

  She licked her lips, realizing what she'd just said. "Our kids." God, was she going to keep letting herself forget that this marriage wasn't real? Why was that so easy to do?

  "Come on," she said, changing the subject. "I'll show you some of the most private spots you'll ever find anywhere."

  His brows lifted. "Oh, yeah? And just who showed them you?"

  She elbowed him in the side playfully. "You've heard of Lewis and Clark? Well, these woods were explored and mapped by the great team of Bradshaw and Bradshaw. Caro and I left no stone unturned, even though at twelve and fourteen our map-making skills left room for improvement."

  #

  He let her lead the way, enjoying just being with her, watching her hair move as she walked, her limp very slight, her pace slow, relaxed. He liked watching her eyes dart around, taking in everything.

  When she'd mentioned having kids with him, something very fragile had taken root in him. Something that made his stomach feel queasy and threw his equilibrium out of whack. He tried to ignore it and pay attention to the things she pointed out as they picked their way silently through the dense woods—a deer track, a pair of chipmunks chasing each other and chattering madly, a hawk circling above, a bare, green spot on a sapling where a buck had rubbed his antlers, scraping away the bark. But he found himself more interested in looking at her. More intrigued by her scent, than that of the pines. More impressed by her grace as she practically danced through the trees, than by that of the hawk gliding above them in perfect circles. He felt good about himself today, filled with satisfaction. And all because she'd relaxed. He'd eased her mind by bringing her here. Taken away some of her turmoil. He couldn't think of a higher cause to strive for.

  Until she stiffened and stopped walking. Her eyes went wide, her jaw tight. Her lips trembled slightly. She spun around, staring back the way they'd come. "No..." It was a bare whisper.

  "Joey?" He gripped her shoulders, brought her around to face him. The fear in her green eyes made his heart flip over. "What is it?"

  "The Slasher...is here!" She pulled free of his grasp, gripped one of his hands in hers and veered off the path, pulling him. "Come on. Run!"

  Chapter Twelve

  She was frantic. Her palm against his hand was too warm and damp. She pulled him off the marked trail into the dense trees, running like a scared rabbit with one lame leg. He knew that every step sent pain screaming through her thigh. She grunted softly with the impacts, and her face twisted into a tormented grimace. He had little choice but to go along with her, though he had to wonder if she had finally succumbed to all the pressure she'd been under. He hadn't heard a thing, and he was damned sure no one had followed them down here.

  Still, she limped up a steep incline, dragged him behind a cluster of brush and pulled him down until he squatted on his haunches beside her.

  He scanned her panic-stricken face, his worry increasing with her every hoarse breath, every shift of her wide eyes. One palm rubbed up and down over her injury. Damn, she could have ripped the stitches out with that little performance. "Joey, take it easy. It's probably nothing. You've been under a lot of—" Her hand shot out to press over his mouth. Her other one rose, pointing down the wooded bank they'd just climbed.

  He frowned as she moved her hand away and looked where she was pointing. And then he heard it. Brush crackling loudly beneath hurried steps. He squinted, trying to see through the dense growth. A shadow took shape beyond the branches, moving a few steps, then stopping, waiting, then moving some more.

  The form finally stepped into a clear spot and Ash felt Joey go ice-cold. The Slasher was a tall, big woman. Not fat, just big. Powerfully built. Her long legs were encased in black nylons. He couldn't see her feet, but there was a tight black skirt and a loose-fitting knit sweater. Red. He waited for her to step farther forward, so he could see her head, her face, but she didn't. She just stood there, silent, as if listening. And then her hand lifted, and he saw that it was encased in a black glove, and holding a blade that glinted in the sun as she turned it slowly.

  He felt Joey's death grip on his forearm and looked at her. She was pulling him, but her wide eyes remained riveted on the form lurking below. Ash followed, moving with softly placed steps. Joey carefully pushed a tangle of berry briars to one side, tearing her eyes from the Slasher to look at him, and then nod toward whatever she'd revealed. Ash looked and saw the black hole the briars had concealed. His gaze met Joey's, and he shook his head once.

  "We have to," she whispered. "Ash..."

  He heard the rustle of brush below them and glanced down once more. The killer had turned toward them and was climbing upward. Personally he'd rather stay right here and face the bitch, blade or not, than go into that well of darkness Joey had exposed. But he couldn't risk Joey's life that way. She could be hurt. Killed, even.

  He looked again at the cave, licked his lips.

  "Trust me." She mouthed the words with trembling lips. He braced his spine against the tremors that were trying to shake it apart and nodded. Joey bent double and crawled under the briars, disa
ppearing into the darkness. Ash got down on all fours and backed in, so he could check the ground to be sure they'd left no telltale signs. As soon as he was completely surrounded in inky blackness, Joey reached past him, tugging the briars back into place to conceal the entrance. Then she reached out, felt for his hand, found it and gripped it.

  "You can stand," she whispered.

  He straightened slowly. She drew him forward, deeper into the darkness, and he went, telling himself over and over that it was necessary. That the danger was outside in the sunshine, not here in this dank, black well. He didn't need to reach out to feel the narrow walls of stone on either side of him, or reach up to know the cold ceiling was inches above his head. He hated the closeness, hated the sensation of there being no air in here, hated that his breaths came short and quick as she pulled him behind her, at her slow, uneven pace.

  He steadied himself, clenching his hand around hers, trying to concentrate on her pain instead of his own. She was in agony. She must be, after that uphill run. He fought to think of ways to alleviate her suffering so she wouldn't become aware of his. He wouldn't let her see what this place did to him. He prayed she wouldn't feel his hand shake or sweat. It was the damned darkness! If only there was a light, even a faint glimmer, to break the pitch. But there was no light, and the memory began swirling in the pit of his mind.

  There had been darkness then, too. And the feeling of four close walls looming around him, closing in as he crouched on the floor with his knees pulled tight to his chest. No silence, though. His little cell's walls had been thin, and he could hear the sounds that came through them. His mother's sounds. Animal sounds. As if she was hurting, dying. And if she died, he would remain in the closet forever, behind the locked door, a prisoner of the darkness.

  He stopped walking. Joey's hand tugged at his, but his feet refused to move. He fought the misery, the sudden certainty that Joey and the Slasher and the cave were just a dream and that he was still that little boy he could hear crying in his mind. He turned as if to look around him, but saw nothing. He took a step backward, retreating from the horror, only to come up against a cold stone wall. He closed his eyes and sank to the floor.

  "Ash?"

  "No." He didn't want her to see him this way, didn't want her to touch him, didn't want her anywhere near him right now.

  She knelt in front of him, her hands running over his face, over the dampness of sweat and, if he was honest with himself, perhaps a few tears on his skin.

  "It's all right." Her voice whispered over his face, warming it, drying it. Her arms encircled his shoulders and she held him.

  Get away from me, dammit.

  But his head obeyed when her hands urged it onto her shoulder. His body surrendered to the feel of her warmth, her fingers moving through his hair in soothing rhythm. God, he didn't want her to know....

  "I already know." She shifted position, sitting, pulling him with her, holding him with a strength that surprised him. Her arms were silken steel and they wouldn't let go. "There's no locked door here, Ash. And you're not alone. Not anymore."

  His head came up and he faced her, not seeing her at all, only feeling her there. He stroked her arm, her shoulder, squeezed it "I'm sorry."

  "You're hurting." Her lips touched his face. "So am I. You don't want to let me in, Ash, but I'm already there."

  His breathing had calmed. In her arms, the old terror had evaporated. The little boy inside still cried, but this time someone was listening. He relaxed slightly, leaning back against the wall. He felt her turn to sit tight beside him, her body touching his. She gripped his hand.

  "It was your mother who locked you in the little room."

  He nodded, though he knew she couldn't see. "She was a whore. I was bad for business."

  Her hand clenched. "You were afraid for her."

  "I hated her."

  "How old were you, Ash?"

  He tensed. Bitterness coated the inside of his mouth and his voice came out thick with it. "Four, the first time."

  Her head tipped sideways, settling on his shoulder. "Four-year-olds don't know how to hate."

  The child inside him cried harder. Ash ignored it, focusing instead on his anger. "This one did."

  She shook her head. "I don't think so."

  From somewhere deep inside him, the cries became words, pleas. I just wanted her to love me. Why couldn't she love me?

  Ash went rigid, shaking himself. "Maybe we'd better move on."

  But her hands cupped his face and held it close to hers. Her lips touched his, and he tasted her salty tears on them. Her arms crept around his neck. "You're not alone anymore." Her lips moved and she kissed his face, his neck, his ear. "I won't let you be...not ever again."

  He snagged her waist and drew her closer, kissing her with an urgency that surprised him. Then he brought her head to his chest and held her there, against his thundering heart. God, he wished he could believe her. It would be so easy to let her in, let her warmth, her love, heal the old wounds.

  But he was all too aware that none of it was true. There was no love between them. It was all a farce, one he still didn't understand. And for a moment he wished his pretend amnesia were real, so he could relish this moment, believe in it. It would be easy. It felt real.

  He pushed her away and got to his feet, gripping her hands and pulling her with him. He shouldn't have talked about his past with her. It made him feel vulnerable, weak. He'd deal with his own problems in his own way. Alone. He would piece together the puzzle of Joey Bradshaw, and he would see the Slasher pay the price. And then he would go his way, resume his search for a life, a family of his own. He would find a woman, one he could build something with, one he could trust. He would have children and give them everything he'd longed for as a child. Everything he'd been denied.

  But there would never be love. He hadn't realized that until now. There was a big hole inside him where love should have been. It had never been filled, so there was none there to give.

  He cleared his throat and his mind. "Let's go back to the entrance. Maybe the Slasher gave up and left by now."

  She stepped nearer, her hands on his shoulders. "Ash, I—"

  "No, Joey. No more. It was a brief lapse. I'm fine now."

  He thought she nodded. He was glad he couldn't see her face, read whatever was in her eyes, or misread it. He turned the way they'd come, but her hand caught his again.

  "There's another exit. This way."

  #

  It was as if he'd slammed a door in her face. Joey wished she could understand why, but she couldn't. She'd felt his thoughts so clearly only moments ago—his anguish, the rush of memories that had engulfed him. But now there was nothing.

  She consoled herself that it was good he'd stopped her when he had. She had been about to tell him that she loved him, just to ease his aching heart. Where the impulse had come from, she had no idea. She'd just been overcome with the need to take away his pain, and the words had bubbled up in her throat like some living thing inside her, desperate to escape. She'd let herself get so caught up in wanting to help him that she'd forgotten to protect herself. If she'd blurted out something so blatantly false, he'd have known, or he would find out, as soon as his memory was restored. And then he'd have all the more reason to hate her.

  She ignored the recurring urge to hold him close again. She focused on finding the right passages. She knew the cave well, but always before, she'd had a light to guide her. This time all she had was her memory, and it had been a long time. She'd avoided this place and its happy memories after her father had let her down. She hadn't thought she could ever enjoy coming here again...until she'd come with Ash.

  He didn't say a word as they walked. His palms were dry, his breathing normal. Maybe she had helped him, then, just a little.

  Finally she saw daylight filtering through an opening ahead. She walked slowly, careful not to make a sound. Ash did the same without her warning, just in case the Slasher knew about this cave and was waiting.
She honed her senses, opened her mind, sought the prickling sense of danger she feared would come. But she felt only fresh air bathing her face, brilliant sunlight warming it as they drew nearer.

  They emerged on a grassy hillside overlooking a farmhouse, a red barn, a cluster of cows. She didn't take her hand from Ash's and he didn't release it until she started down the hill. He stopped her, turned her and then scooped her into his arms. "I couldn't help you in there. Too cramped. But I'll be damned if you're walking on that leg anymore today."

  She leaned forward and kissed him. He stared at her for a second, and she saw her own confused feelings mirrored in his dark eyes. Then he started off, carrying her down the hill to the farmhouse.

  While Joey spoke to the farmer's wife, Ash used their phone to call the police.

  #

  “This proves Joey isn't the Slasher." Ash said it for the fourth time as he paced Radley's office.

  "Only if you can be sure the woman you saw was."

  "Well, who the hell else would have been slinking through the woods with a knife in her fist?"

  Rad's hands came up in front of him. "I didn't say I doubted you, I'm just asking if you're sure."

  "I'm sure." Ash stopped pacing and stared at his friend. "What I'm not sure of is how the hell she knew where to find us. You're the only one I told, Rad."

  "You saying you think I had something—"

  "I'm asking if you told anyone else."

  Rad shook his head as he rose from his chair. "What do you think, I'm an idiot? Of course I didn't tell..." His words trailed off. He pushed a hand over his graying hair and swore under his breath.

  "What?"

  Rad sighed. "Bev Issacs. She was in my office when you called, grilling me about that cigarette butt Harris lifted from her ashtray." He grimaced. "Dammit, Ash, I jotted the location down in case I needed to reach you." He turned, searching his desk, moving file folders aside. "The note's gone. She could've taken it"

  As he said it, Joey reentered the office. He'd tried to get her to stay off the leg, but she couldn't seem to sit still. Her wide eyes met Ash's. He answered her unspoken question as she handed him a mug of coffee. "There's a chance Bev Issacs knew where we were."