The Place I Belong

by Nancy Herkness

  The sound of rushing water sounded in the tense stillness between them. She hadn’t heard it before because she’d been so engrossed in her conversation with Adam. They must be approaching the first bridge over Second Creek. Not sure how much time had passed, Hannah hit the beeper on the walkie-talkie again. Adam pointed his light farther forward, picking up the metal railings of the short span.

  Trace was nowhere in sight.

  As one, they broke into a run, pounding up onto the wooden planks of the bridge.

  “Trace!” Adam called, the surface of the stream glittering as he skimmed the flashlight’s beam along the banks. “Come, boy!”

  A short bark sounded from somewhere ahead and to their right. Adam sprinted up the trail, while Hannah ran behind. She could see the dog’s footprints mingled with Adam’s in the light dusting of snow.

  “He’s gone off the trail here,” Adam called to her, stopping on the edge of the path and shining his light into the dense woods. “It’s going to be tough to follow him through the rhodie thicket.”

  “He didn’t come back when you called,” Hannah said as she came up beside him. “That must mean he’s caught a strong scent.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He pushed into the woods a few feet. “I’d tell you to wait here, but you’ve got the medical skills, so I have to ask you to come with me. Stay close behind me so you don’t get slapped by the branches.”

  She didn’t bother to tell him he couldn’t have stopped her from following him.

  They moved slowly through the trees, the sound of water growing louder. Now that they were off the trail, Hannah kept her gaze down to watch for stones, roots, and uneven ground. A dark patch she thought was a shadow turned out to be a rock. She stepped on it and twisted her ankle, clutching the back of Adam’s quilted ski jacket to stop herself from falling.

  He turned and caught her by the elbows. “Are you all right?”

  “Thanks to Timberland I am,” she said, testing her weight on the turned ankle. It was painful but it held her up.

  “I’ll go more slowly.”

  “Not on my account.” She gave him a little push. “Move!”

  She wasn’t sure if he slowed down deliberately or because the trees grew so thick that it was hard to walk.

  “Oof!” Adam had come to an abrupt halt, and she ran right into his back.

  “Sorry,” he said, his attention elsewhere. “There isn’t enough snow on the ground to follow Trace’s tracks here.” The beam of light probed all around them.

  The stream’s rush had increased to a dull roar, blocking out any softer sounds. The thick, leathery leaves of rhododendrons and the intertwining tree branches formed a dense wall, so even Adam’s powerful beam could only scour the ground in the small spaces between them.

  Tears of frustration pricked at the back of Hannah’s eyes. All they could do was stand there and hope Trace barked again or came back to them.

  Adam must have sensed her distress because his arm came around her. “He’ll let us know when he finds them,” he said.

  She couldn’t help it. She leaned against him, letting her head drop against his shoulder. Her ankle throbbed, and cold was seeping through her jeans, but the strength of his arm and the solidity of his chest made her discomfort fade away. They stood in the near-embrace as he continued to probe the woods with the flashlight, illuminating nothing but ranks of bare, gray tree trunks and hulking clumps of bushes.

  A volley of distant barks made them jump and shift away from each other. Adam aimed his flashlight in the direction of Trace’s voice.

  “Those are happy barks,” Hannah said, cocking her head to listen. “He’s found someone he’s glad to see.”

  “Trace! Show me!” Adam shouted. She could see him practically vibrating with the need to move, but he was controlling himself until he knew where to go.

  More barks, this time closer.

  Adam started toward the sound, calling Trace and pushing branches out of his way as he went. Hannah followed at a safe distance so she didn’t get smacked in the face by the spring-back. Either the dog was moving closer or they were going the right way because it was becoming easier to pinpoint Trace’s location.

  Suddenly a black shape streaked into Adam’s flashlight beam. “Good boy!” Adam said, letting the excited dog jump on him as he praised and stroked him. “You’re the best boy. Now, show me!”

  Trace dashed off into the woods about fifteen feet before stopping to look over his shoulder at them.

  “You go ahead,” Hannah said, knowing Adam’s long legs could carry him to Matt and Satchmo faster without her. “I can follow your light.”

  “Thank you,” he said. He shocked her by pulling her against him for a brief, hard embrace. Then he was gone, his silhouette almost as dark as Trace’s as the two of them wove through the trees.

  Adam cursed as he tripped over a protruding root, but he didn’t lessen his steady tracking of the dog. Thank God he’d found the strength to face his demons without alcohol. It was hard enough to navigate the dense woods stone-cold sober.

  “Dad! Trace! Are you there?” The distant sound of Matt’s voice flooded him with a relief that nearly made his knees buckle. At the same time, he felt an overwhelming urge to run, as though some sort of rope stretched between him and his son, and Matt’s voice had pulled it taut.

  “Matt! I’m coming!” he shouted, charging on, ignoring the branches that slashed across his face and thighs. The water’s sound grew as he moved forward.

  “Dad! We’re over here!” The combination of joy and pleading in Matt’s voice galvanized Adam into greater speed. Trace sensed his master’s urgency and broke into a lope as Adam crashed along behind him.

  The dog disappeared from view, and Adam pulled up just in time to avoid plunging down a sharply sloped embankment. His wavering flashlight caught the reflective glow of Trace’s eyes as the dog looked up at his master from ten feet below and barked.

  “Dad! Careful, it’s steep!” Matt’s voice came from below and to the left. “Satchmo and I fell down it.”

  Adam swung the beam toward the sound, spotlighting the boy standing, his hand shading his eyes, and the pony lying down with his legs tucked under him. Skidding down the muddy slope, Adam reached his son in three strides, sweeping the boy into his arms and holding him hard against him. “Matt! Thank God, you’re all right.”

  “Dad, I’m sorry,” Matt sobbed, his grip on his father as convulsive as Adam’s. “I couldn’t leave Satchmo.”

  “I know,” Adam said, holding him and stroking Matt’s snow-dampened hair as the boy shuddered against him.

  He also knew that he was never going to let go of Matt again. No matter what it took, he was keeping his son. As the certainty swept through him, a sense of peace followed it, spreading a warm light that chased away the shadows shrouding his soul.

  Hannah! Without releasing his son, he turned in the direction he’d come from and shouted, “Hannah! Wait! There’s a dangerous drop-off. I’ll come get you!” Squinting upward through the falling snow, he thought he saw the glow of her lantern.

  “Okay,” he heard her call back. “Did you find them?”

  “Yes,” he yelled. He took Matt by the shoulders and looked into his son’s face. “I have to get Dr. Linden. I’ll be right back.”

  Matt nodded as a shiver rattled his teeth. Adam remembered the thermos and shrugged out of the backpack’s straps, handing it to Matt. “There’s hot chocolate in here. It’ll warm you up.”

  Adam shoved the flashlight into his pocket and scrambled up the embankment, using branches and rocks as hand and footholds. At the top he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hannah?”

  “Here!” A glow swayed to his left. She must be swinging her lantern to make it easier for him to see her.

  “Got it. I’m on my way.”

  He dodged thro
ugh the underbrush and found her leaning against a tree trunk, rocking her lantern in front of her. He wanted to enfold her in his arms and tell her of his decision, but he needed to make some amends first.

  “How are they?” she asked, pushing off the tree and starting toward him.

  “Matt is cold but seems fine. Satchmo is lying down. Matt says the pony fell down the hill.”

  “I hope nothing’s broken.”

  “Are you limping?” he asked, noticing a stutter in her gait as they hit a relatively clear stretch.

  “It’s just a little sore from when I twisted it.” She waved his concern away.

  The least he could do was carry her to the top of the slope. He stopped and turned his back to her, saying over his shoulder. “Put your arms around my neck and jump up.”

  “What? No, I can walk.” She gimped past him.

  “Hannah, please. We need you in good shape.” It also would allow him to touch her before the amends.

  “Oh, fine.” Her tone was grudging, but she wound her arms around his neck and gave a hop so he could catch her behind the knees and lift her upward.

  Her warm breath tickled his ear. Having her thighs wrapped around his waist brought back vivid and erotic memories. He hoped like hell his amends would be good enough.

  As she slid down from Adam’s back at the top of the embankment, Hannah squeezed her eyes closed to imprint this last touch of his body against hers. It eased the pain of her twisted ankle. He went partway down the steep slope and braced himself before reaching up to her and saying, “Take my hands and lean on me. I’ve got a good foothold here.”

  She put her hands in both of his, trusting the power and steadiness of his grip. When her wonky foot slithered out from under her, he brought her against him for balance, their bodies synchronized in a way that echoed more intimate times.

  At the bottom of the drop, he released her hands but wrapped one arm around her waist to take the weight off her ankle as he guided her to Matt and Satchmo. The boy stood beside the pony in a slight hollow filled with fallen leaves while Trace paced around them. A big rhododendron loomed above, providing some shelter from the snow and wind.

  “Dr. Linden, I’m really sorry,” Matt said. “I should never have taken Satchmo off the path, but he kept turning toward the sound of the water, like he was thirsty.”

  “It’s okay, Matt. You didn’t know he’d fall down the embankment.” Matt looked so upset that Hannah gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Now tell me what happened.”

  Matt thrust his hand through his tousled hair in a gesture so like Adam’s it made Hannah wince. She turned toward the pony, holding up the lantern. Satchmo blinked placidly in the electric light. He didn’t appear to be in any immediate distress.

  “I thought the water was close because it sounded so loud,” Matt said, “so I just turned off the path and went toward it. It was still light enough to see, but I didn’t expect that cliff to be there. Satch and I both kind of stumbled and skidded down it.” Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “It was weird because I didn’t see Satch hit any rocks or branches or anything but when we got to the bottom, he started limping real bad. I was afraid he might have broken something, so I led him over here and got him to lie down.”

  Matt bent down to stroke the pony’s neck. “Then I tried to call the stable, but my cell phone’s battery had died because it kept trying to find a signal and there wasn’t one.” His voice took on a burden of guilt. “I usually turn it off when I walk up here, but I forgot.”

  “You wouldn’t have gotten a signal anyway,” Adam said, putting his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Sharon sent us out with a walkie-talkie.”

  “Oh my goodness, I forget to tell Sharon we found them!” Hannah yanked the walkie-talkie out of her pocket.

  “I’ll do it,” Adam said, taking the device from her. “You take care of Satchmo.” He walked a few feet away, and Hannah heard a crackle of static and then Sharon’s voice.

  “Everyone from the stable went out searching for you,” Hannah said, thinking it would make Matt feel better. “I guess you couldn’t hear them because of the water, but they would have found you eventually.”

  Instead the boy gave her a look of dismay. “I didn’t hear anyone.”

  Hannah knelt to run her hands over the pony’s folded legs. “Which leg was he favoring?”

  “I think it was the right front one.” Matt squatted beside her, his brow furrowed. “It was kind of hard to tell because I didn’t want to make him walk too far.”

  “There are no significant wounds, and I don’t feel any noticeable breaks.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Let’s see if we can get him on his feet.”

  Matt went to Satchmo’s head and wrapped his fingers around the cheek strap of the halter. Hannah forced herself not to limp as she went around to the other side of the pony. She didn’t want Matt worrying about her too. Butting her shoulder against Satchmo’s, she nodded to Matt.

  “C’mon, Satch. Let’s get up.” Matt tugged and Hannah pushed.

  Anticipating serious resistance, she nearly fell over when Satch surged obediently to his feet. “Well, that was easier than I expected.” She pointed to a more open space. “Can you take him over there?”

  Matt led the pony forward. Satchmo stumbled as he put weight on his right front hoof, and Matt stopped.

  Hannah bent to probe down the leg with her fingers. “If there’s a fracture, I can’t find it. Could be hairline, so we’ll need an X-ray. There’s a little swelling around the knee, but nothing serious. The cold ground may have acted like a natural ice pack. Walk him a little farther.”

  Adam came up beside her, watching the pony as well. “Sharon’s on her way with help.” Satchmo took several more steps. “He doesn’t seem that bad, does he?”

  Matt wore a look of puzzlement. “He was limping a lot worse before. You know, with his head bobbing up and down every time he took a step.”

  Hannah checked his other three legs thoroughly. She didn’t want to miss something. Stepping back, she let her hand rest on Satchmo’s back as she frowned down at him. “I think he can walk back to the stable, as long as we can avoid that embankment.”

  “I’ll find a way.” Adam swung his flashlight up and strode along the foot of the slope, fading into the snow and darkness with Trace trailing along behind him.

  Hannah knelt by Satchmo’s right front leg, picking it up and bending it back and forth, watching for a reaction. All Satchmo did was turn his head to look at her and blow out a loud breath.

  “Do you think Dad’s mad at me?” Matt asked in a low voice.

  Startled, Hannah glanced up to find the boy staring down at her. “Gosh, no! He’s hugely relieved that you’re okay.”

  Matt looked away. “I made a lot of trouble today. I mean, the stable hands looking for me and you hiking all the way out here in the dark and the snow.”

  Her heart twisted as she realized he was afraid he’d given his father another reason to send him away. She shoved herself out of her squat. “I promise you he’s not mad. He loves you, which means he was terrified something bad had happened to you. But now that we’ve found you and Satch, everything is fine.”

  Matt seemed unconvinced, but their conversation was ended by Adam’s appearance out of the gloom. “The land flattens out that way,” he said, pointing behind him. “Satch won’t have any trouble negotiating it.”

  A heartbreaking mix of relief and uncertainty flitted across Matt’s face when his father put his arm around the boy’s shoulders and smiled down at him. “Did the chocolate warm you up?”

  “It was so hot I burned my tongue.”

  “Good.” Adam lifted his gaze to Hannah. “How’re you doing?”

  “What’s wrong with Dr. Linden?” Matt swung around toward her.

  “Nothing. I just stepped on a rock wrong.”

 
“If Satchmo wasn’t lame, I’d put the doc on his back,” Adam said. “But it looks like she’s getting another piggyback ride.” He let go of Matt and turned his back to her. “Up you go.”

  Hannah stared at the expanse of ski jacket. Adam sounded almost playful. It must be that the release of tension after finding Matt was making him giddy.

  “Thanks, but I can walk.” She wasn’t going to subject herself to the delicious torment of being draped over his back again.

  “Too undignified for you?” She thought she saw his teeth flash in a smile. “Then lean on me.” He pivoted to snake his arm around her waist, the firmness of his grip telling her she wasn’t going to win this argument. “Matt, you take the lantern and follow right behind us.”

  As they set off, Adam drew her close against him so their hips jostled against each other as they walked. He let her set the pace, shortening his stride to a mere saunter as he threw frequent glances over his shoulder to check on Matt. Trace ranged back and forth beside them, his eyes occasionally blazing in the flashlight’s beam.

  What a strange little procession they made, yet contentment warmed Hannah. Despite her aching ankle and the sting of spitting snow, she relished the movement of Adam’s body against hers, the arrhythmic thud of Satchmo’s hooves as he limped along, Matt’s murmured encouragement to the pony, and the jingle of Trace’s dog tags.

  Cocooned in the dark embrace of the woods, they could almost be a family.

  “Hey, anyone out there?” Sharon’s voice echoed through the woods, tearing the fabric of Hannah’s illusion to shreds.

  Soon the rescue party located them. A bevy of helpful stable hands attended to Satchmo, while Sharon handed Hannah a pair of crutches, removing her need to lean on Adam. When the cavalcade arrived back at the stable, Sharon insisted on icing and bandaging Hannah’s ankle. Adam had come into the tack room to thank her before he took Matt home to a warm bed, but all the activity swirling around her had kept his acknowledgement formal and brief. He hadn’t even given her a peck on the cheek.