She and Niona had flown home from Bethesda to Duluth for a break from their routine and to check on the house. Kymbria's brother, Pete, was caretaking, but a man never saw the dust and dirt or noticed the smell of a neglected home. Both still believing Dr. Smith had Kymbria's best interests at heart, two days into that visit, she and Niona left Risa with Pete and his wife while they drove to the gun club. Cognitive behavioral therapy, mental health professionals called it. Put a person in a similar but toned-down situation to begin teaching them to handle the fear and stress. According to the doctor, the meds were sufficiently built up in her system to keep her calm during the retraining of her psyche.
The car wreck they'd passed on the roadway near the club entrance….
The helicopter called to transport an accident victim to the trauma center….
The helicopter, zooming low over the club….
Flashback: Kandahar, Afghanistan. The attack while she and her nurses tried to transport wounded — physically injured and two soldiers babbling with PTSD — out of the fire zone.
Kymbria prone beneath a table on the gun club firing range, her pistol searching for a target.
Niona with sense enough to hide in the clubhouse until Kymbria came out of the flashback.
Their decision to tell no one else in the family of the danger she'd placed her own mother in….
Scarlet leaped back into the front passenger seat, and Kymbria jolted to reality in time to realize her vehicle had slowed to a near crawl. Thank god there was no other traffic and this hadn’t been a true flashback, only the memory of that horrible incident.
Thank God Risa wasn't with them at the gun club…not that either Mom or I would have taken her there.
But what would happen if a flashback occurred again? What if she was driving with her mother and Risa in the car? What if she flashed back in the house, where Mom still kept a few handguns and rifles? What if — ?
She strengthened her mental barriers. At least her mother didn't know she had bought a sat-phone the other day. For a while, she could blame no-service for not calling back.
A lie by omission or insinuation is still a lie, her mother's voice mentally chastised her.
"Darn it, Mom! I'll call as soon as I can. Promise."
Only the setter answered her, with a grunt of satisfaction as she circled once and plopped down on the passenger seat.
Kymbria sighed and started watching for the break in the pine trees along the snow-banked road that would indicate the turnoff to Neris Lake, a small town with a winter population of barely 2,000 souls and the closest town to her family's isolated vacation lake cabin. She needed to be at that cabin now. Needed to soak in the peace and, hopefully, start salvaging her life…her future. She had come back to the far Northwood partly in respect for the Old Ways and what the Elders could teach her, but also for the help they could give her.
And one not-so-Elder.
She wasn't starting out well by making up false excuses for dodging her mother, the one person who had never let her down in her entire life. The one person who had loved her without reservation, always and forever. The one person who put her own life on hold and moved in to help her with Risa after Rick died.
Hot anger shot through her at the thought of her dead husband. That still happened frequently, even after seven months. She tamped the vehemence down before it, too, sent her into one of those achingly miserable scenes from the past.
At the next intersection, she turned and continued toward Neris Lake. Minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the town's lone grocery store and glanced at the dashboard clock. Seven a.m. Early, but the store's small deli served breakfast to the few pre-dawn town risers. Although there would be plenty of frozen food in the freezer at the cabin, she would need a few other supplies, and she could call Niona before she got back on the road.
Always eager for a distraction on a drive that cooped her up inside a vehicle, the Irish Setter scrambled across the console and swiped her wet tongue across Kymbria's face. Laughing, Kymbria ruffled Scarlet's silky ears.
"O.K., sweetie," she said. "I'll take you for a walk first."
She grabbed the leash from inside the console, snapped it on Scarlet's collar, and opened the driver's door. Outside, fresh snow trickled from a lighter but heavily overcast gray sky, the bulging bellies of the clouds now visible and forewarning of more snow waiting. Juggling the leash, Kymbria shrugged into her down jacket, slammed the car door and headed toward the far side of the parking lot, the gamboling setter beside her. There was a vacant lot beside the store, and since the dog normally obeyed well, she unsnapped the leash. With a sharp yipe of gratitude for her freedom, Scarlet took off.
Behind Kymbria, in the parking lot with only a few scattered vehicles, an old clunker's engine ground as the driver tried to fire up the vehicle. A second later, the engine in the troublesome vehicle backfired into the still air.
With no time to prepare her defenses, Kymbria froze, all her senses on high alert yet pulling against each other. One side struggled to dive prone to the ground, the other fought to stay rational, reminding her that she was Stateside, not in a war zone. One side flushed in a cold sweat brought on by the thunder of her heartbeat, the sound so very similar to the thwap-thwap-thwap of rotor blades on the big birds that could carry either death or rescue. The other side wrestled with the trap door that kept memories too terrible to face without preliminary groundwork contained.
Both sides won — partially. She dropped to the ground in a sitting position. An instant later, she caught her dog in her arms as the setter, also startled by the sharp noise, raced back to its mistress.
Scarlet’s whine lingered in the air as Kymbria told both herself and the dog, "It's o.k. It’s just an old car that’s not running properly."
"You all right?" a male voice asked.
Scarlet pulled back from Kymbria, a soft warning growl in her throat. Reminding herself again that she wasn't in enemy territory — that the man standing close to her was undoubtedly not on his way to meet his virgins — Kymbria drew in a steadying breath and rose on somewhat stable legs to face him.
The sheriff hadn't changed much, maybe a bit more jowling on his face. When he met her glance and nodded, the subdued light in the overcast early morning did nothing to mute the sharpness in his blue eyes.
"Sheriff Hjak," she greeted. "Nice to see you."
"Kymbria James," Hjak replied. "Glad you think I’m nice. But maybe you better explain to your dog that I'm not one of the bad guys."
Kymbria laid a hand on the setter's head and said, "It's all right, Scarlet. Friend."
The dog didn't back down until Kymbria took Hjak's hand and carried it to Scarlet to sniff. Even then Scarlet sat on her haunches, her ears on alert as though making sure the word friend wasn't a lie.
"It's a dog thing," Hjak said, nodding at the setter. "She's showing me how tough she is, in case I mean you harm. You up here alone or is somebody else gonna show up? Seem to recall you got married."
Kymbria cleared her throat. "I'm…widowed. And yes, I'm going to be here alone for a while."
Hjak’s eyes softened and he said, "Sorry about your loss.”
“Thank you,” Kymbria murmured for the thousandth time since Rick’s death.
Hjak frowned at whatever new thought came into his mind, opened his mouth as though to continue talking, then shoved his hands in his coat pockets and gazed over Kymbria’s head. He focused northward, in the direction of her family’s cabin, for a long moment.
When he remained silent, Kymbria cleared her throat in preparation of saying goodbye. Hjak quickly gazed back at her, his look wavering between warning and…something she couldn't quite interpret. Perhaps a bit of awkwardness at what he was about to say? Even with her training at reading faces, she couldn’t decide. His words didn’t fit his expression, either.
"Your family’s been here in winter before,” he said. “You know that when we get a blizzard, phone service is spotty. Hard for some
one alone to get help if they need it."
"Sat-phone," Kymbria explained. "It should work fine here, most of the time, anyway. Except during especially heavy cloud cover."
"Like during a blizzard," he repeated.
"Well, I'm sure Mom will have the cabin phone turned back on for me.”
“I’m sure, too, knowing Niona.” Still, he didn’t move aside and this time Kymbria actually turned and stared northward with him.
“The roads are clear, aren’t they?” she finally asked. “I shouldn’t have any trouble getting to the cabin?”
“Huh? Oh. No, the roads are fine.”
“Good. Uh…so how are things around here? Are you still keeping teenagers safe from themselves?"
Kymbria stifled a grin at her own audacity. Her only up-close and personal contact with Hjak had been one night when she was sixteen. Way too tipsy to be behind the wheel, she’d been driving home from a clandestine visit to a bar not known to be vigilant about ID'ing summer kids. She nearly made it, too. Then she'd slid off the road into a ditch and wiped out the mailbox at a neighboring lake cabin. The neighbor had been home and called Hjak.
That she'd had a reason for her overindulgence — one Hjak understood — probably saved her license, although it didn't protect her from a scathing lecture from the sheriff and both her parents. That had honestly been the last time she'd driven drunk. All she had to do was remember the ride back into town in the backseat of Hjak's patrol car, the wait inside the locked cell with a cup of strong, black coffee for company. The silent ride home with her parents. The lonely rest of the summer — all four weeks of it — grounded.
"Still clean?" the sheriff asked instead of answering her question.
"You betcha," Kymbria said. "Behind the wheel, anyway."
"Good job. Drink don't hurt no one now and then, long as they know when and where.” He shifted his stance as though finally ready to move aside as he said, “How long you planning to stay at the cabin?"
"A week or two."
"You'll be gone before Jan — uh…Christmas, then?"
"Oh, yes," she agreed, thinking of all that time away from Risa. Still, the thought crossed her mind to wonder why Hjak cared about that certain date. "I don't dare break my promise to Mom about spending Christmas with her and my daughter in Duluth."
"It's only right to be with family on holidays," Hjak said. "How old's your daughter?"
"Seven months," Kymbria replied, her gaze unerringly traveling toward the south, where Risa waited. When she looked back at Hjak, she caught the doubt on his face, and went on determinedly, "She's with my mother. And if you're wondering why I left her at such a young age…well, I have my reasons, Sheriff. Valid ones."
He nodded without questioning her. She supposed he'd heard that old saw about having valid reasons thousands of times from various lawbreakers. But she wasn't here to break the law.
He said, "Bet you might drop in at the casino your tribe opened up a couple years ago while you’re here, too, huh?”
“That I might, Sheriff,” she admitted. "I have to confess, I enjoy sliding a few bucks now and then into those new video slot machines."
“Well, for my end of things, I’m glad the tribe had sense enough to build a hotel with some of their earnings. Most strangers spend the night, rather than head back home and run into a moose on the road."
Kymbria laughed. "Don't you warn people that the moose come out onto the road to lick the salt? And they're big enough that if they don't feel like moving until they get their bellies full, a car's not going to threaten them."
"We warn them." His tone dropped and he shot another quick glance northward. "But some warnings even those who live around here don't take heed of."
"Are you having some other trouble?" Kymbria asked, drawing Hjak's attention back to her in a startled jerk, as though he'd forgotten for a second they were conversing. "Seems like drugs are everywhere these days."
Hjak hesitated for a moment, then acknowledged, "We've got our share of drug problems around here, like everyone else." Then he changed his focus to Scarlet. "She appears to have had some training."
"Not really. She's protective, not aggressive. She was about six months old when I got her…after I came home. She's only a little over a year now. She's a good watchdog and I trust her."
"It's good that you'll have her with you." Hjak stared at her, eyes half-mast. "I probably shouldn't embarrass you with this. Still, it's my job to know the people around here. And I saw how you reacted to that backfire. Post traumatic stress syndrome? PTSD?"
Kymbria's mood tumbled, as it usually did whenever she was forced to face her new inadequacies. She sighed and nodded a yes at Hjak without further elaboration.
"You've spent enough time up here over the years to know there's more than just silent woods and picture perfect snow in the winter," he said next. "Before he died of that heart attack, your daddy spent summers teaching you kids to respect the land and be cautious of the dangers it can hold. 'Spect you'll be all right. Just remember, you can call me in a whipstitch if you think you need to. And don’t forget to take gas for the snowmobiles when you head out to the cabin."
"I’ll remember," Kymbria promised, glad Hjak had evidently decided not to pursue the question of her mental problems other than with that caution. "I'm sure Len Skinaway will be by to fill the snow machines up and start them. Make sure they're ready for me to use."
With a nod, Hjak started to turn away, then said, "There's healing up here if you need it. Keoman know you're coming?"
"I called him even before I let Mom know," she assured him. "He's part of the reason I'm here."
"Good. Good."
After the sheriff left, Kymbria put Scarlet back in the car, then quickly entered the grocery store and grabbed a few things. Just before she pulled out of the parking lot again, a sporty red Mustang drew up beside her. The horn honked until Kymbria rolled down her window.
"Kym! I thought that was you," her childhood friend, Amber Tallbear, said. Amber's deep brown eyes, the same shade as Kymbria's, glowed with joy at their unexpected meeting. "I'm glad now that I had to run out and get milk for breakfast in the cold. How are you? And how long will you be here? When can we get together and catch up on the last couple years?"
Kymbria smiled back. She and Amber shared a history of more mutual memories than even those from her marriage. Deeper and more meaningful in some ways, and so vital to the women they had become. And they had maintained their friendship over the years with visits when Kymbria managed to come home and via email.
Amber doesn't know all the story behind Rick's death. Yes, she can be someone I can talk to. Better than that crappy psychiatrist!
"I'm doing well, and I'll call you tomorrow," Kymbria promised. Then repeated, "Promise," and stretched her arm out the window, pinkie finger poised. Amber reached out to link with her, as they had dozens of times over the years, then winked and drove on into the parking lot.
Fifteen minutes later, a filled five-gallon gas can in the cargo compartment of her SUV, Kymbria headed out of town again before she remembered the return call to her mother. She glanced at the sat-phone and saw the voice mail waiting message, sighed, and picked up the phone. Slowing, she broke her rule and returned the call.
"Kymbria?" Niona James answered in a breathless voice. "I ought to be as mad as a wet hen at you, but I understand. Are you almost there?"
Despite her trepidation, Kymbria smiled at the greeting. Her mother loved Caller ID. "I just left the grocery store in Neris Lake," she admitted. "The key's still the same place, isn't it?"
"Yes. But I'd have given you your own key, if you'd told me you were leaving so soon," Niona said grumpily. Kymbria loved her mother dearly, but she knew Niona would not completely hold back a guilt trip thrust. "And I'll call the phone company as soon as they're open." She paused. "I suppose you found out that I was planning a small surprise party to introduce Risa to everyone this evening. You probably noticed that I was getting ready to
make all your favorites for dinner. You could have at least spent one more night before you left, so all my preparations weren't in vain."
"I really didn't want to deal with company, Mom. And I hated to face your disappointment. But that's not why I left right now."
"There wouldn't have been com…well, only your brother Pete and his wife. And…well…."
"And Pete's three kids, a couple neighbors I knew growing up, maybe an old teacher?"
"I would have cancelled all of them, if you'd said so."
"Try to understand, Mom," Kymbria explained in a soft voice. "You can come see me all you want at the cabin. And do bring Risa. But that's where I want…need to be right now. At least, for a while. Especially after what happened at the gun club."
After a pause during which Kymbria visualized her mother's face creased in concern, biting her lips in that endearing way, Niona said with a rare burst of cursing, "That effin' damn quack doctor. How dare he send you out for cognitive behavior therapy! Or say your problems were from PMS instead of PTSD!"
Kymbria nodded silently in concurrence, although she reminded Niona, "He didn't know you were listening on the open phone."
"Doesn't matter. He ought to be court marshaled by a bench of naked women generals!"
"I agree, Mom," Kymbria said with a suppressed chuckle. Leave it to her mother to conjure up the perfect scenario to elevate her mood. She changed the subject.
"How's Risa?"
"Would you turn around if I told you that she was crying her little heart out for you?"
"I would if it were true," Kymbria said staunchly.
Niona sighed. "Well, truthfully, she took her morning bottle and fell back to sleep, not noticing, I guess, that you weren't here. She's used to one or the other of us sleeping in."
"I miss her terribly," Kymbria admitted. "I'm doing this for her more than me."
"I know you are, sweetheart. And on one hand, I don't blame you. I wish I could have come with you, though. I don't like the thought of you up there alone."
"I couldn't focus with Risa here, Mom," Kymbria said in a low, ravaged voice. "She's taken over my life so completely. I have to be worthy of that, even if it means being separated from her for a while."
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