Tempting as Sin

by Rosalind James

  “You said night and day,” Bailey said. “Did they really work night and day? The guys?”

  “They really did,” Lily said. “At least, they worked past five o’clock every night.”

  “On one of my grandma’s shows,” Bailey said, “it’s about remodeling. They take the family away on a vacation, and they don’t know they’re getting remodeling. Then they come back and they’re always really surprised. They do remodeling night and day, because the family always has a really sad story that makes people cry. Like a kid in a wheelchair or something. Do you think they’re letting my grandma watch her shows and smoke? That’s what she likes to do. Also she likes powdered doughnuts in a bag. Do you think they’ve got doughnuts there?”

  Lily thought about the wisdom of powdered doughnuts as a nutritional choice, then tossed the thought aside. She didn’t think Ruby was likely to embrace a more healthy lifestyle, and she also doubted it would matter a lot to the eventual outcome. Rafe had found out a fair bit more about his “aunt’s” condition from the nurses before Ruby had been released. “I’m one hundred percent certain they aren’t letting her smoke,” she told Bailey. “I imagine she’s watching every one of her shows, and if you like, we can stop at Walmart on our way to see her and buy her a bag of powdered doughnuts.”

  Bailey’s face cleared. “Good. She’ll be grouchy if she doesn’t smoke, but she’ll feel better if she has doughnuts.”

  “Then,” Lily said, getting to her feet, “let’s get this show on the road. Unpack your things, put your dirty laundry in the hamper up by the machine, and come get a snack, because I’ll bet you’re hungry. Then we’ll go see your grandma.”

  “Do I still get to take Chuck?” Bailey asked. “And weed, and feed the chickens? And stay at the shop with Hailey, if I’m in foster care?”

  Lily said, “You still get to do everything. I promise. I put a little armchair in the back room at the shop for you, in fact, so you can sit and read, when you’re not sewing or helping Hailey or out playing with your friends. Now get yourself unpacked and let’s get going. You live in the country now, remember? There’s always another chore to do in the country.”

  It was Monday, Lily’s day off, and the fourth day Bailey had been with her. The two of them, Rafe, and Chuck were hiking up a future ski trail at the edge of Lily’s land, then reaching a gate that Lily unlocked and held open for the others before locking it again behind her.

  “From here on,” she told Rafe and Bailey, because Chuck didn’t care, “we’re on Forest Service land. And we’re hoping somebody didn’t find my secret huckleberry stash over the weekend.” She wondered if she should have given Bailey her own bear spray. Surely not. She and Rafe each had a can clipped to their backpacks. The problem with bear spray was that it was basically tear gas. You really, really didn’t want to spray it by accident.

  “But people are still going to ski on it,” Bailey said. “How can it belong to the ski resort if it belongs to the Forest Service? The Forest Service is, like, the government. That’s why they have green trucks. The government doesn’t have ski resorts. The government is just rules and things.”

  “The government has green trucks?” Rafe asked.

  Bailey gave a little huff that showed how far she’d come in four days. “Green is for trees. And money is green, and that’s from the government.”

  “Ah,” Rafe said. “Gotcha.”

  “People lease from the Forest Service,” Lily explained to Bailey. “That’s what Brett Hunter is doing. He pays them to use the land.”

  “He must be really rich,” Bailey said.

  “I imagine he is,” Lily said.

  Bailey appeared to consider that. “Is he married to anybody?”

  “No,” Lily said. “He’s available. A little old for you, though.”

  Bailey said, “Maybe you could marry him. My mom’s friend Terri was always talking about marrying somebody really rich, so she could just have pedicures and go shopping all day.”

  “Oi,” Rafe said. “Excuse me? Could be I’d object to Lily marrying Brett Hunter.”

  “Oh, right,” Bailey said. “Like in that movie you were in. The one where you only killed two people.” She and Lily had been catching up on their Rafe Blackstone filmography, at least the ones that weren’t rated R, which Rafe had good-naturedly put up with. “At the end, when the bride walks down the ramp in the church and everybody’s standing up there, and the guy says, “If anybody has, uh…”

  Rafe filled in, his voice sonorous. “If any person can show any lawful impediment why these two persons may not be joined in matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

  “You don’t just know your own lines,” Lily said, “you know everybody else’s.”

  “Good memory,” Rafe said. “Not as good as Martin’s, of course.”

  “Yeah,” Bailey said, “and then you came in the door from the back and everybody turned around, because they were all wearing fancy wedding clothes and you were wearing your jeans still. And you said, ‘I have an impediment. I love Rachel, and she should be marrying me.’ And then you looked at her really hard, and she dropped her flowers and ran up the ramp to you and you picked her up and kissed her.”

  “Made an impression, eh,” Rafe said. “Well, we’ll hope it made an impression on Lily, too.” He turned around on the path, walking backwards uphill like it was easy to do, not one bit out of breath, and said, “Fair warning, Lily. You try to marry Hunter, and I’ll turn up in church and embarrass you.”

  She laughed, and he grinned, then turned around again. “Also,” he told Bailey, “I don’t want to be that cocky Aussie, but I’m a wee bit rich as well.”

  “You are?”

  “You don’t have to sound so skeptical,” he complained.

  “But your house is really small,” Bailey said. “People who have one bathroom aren’t rich. You have to have lots of bathrooms to be rich. Also, Brett Hunter wears fancy clothes. You always wear jeans. Jeans aren’t rich either.”

  Rafe sighed. “I can see I’ll have to convince you. Could be you’ll have to come visit my actual houses and see for yourself. Possibly in a stretch limo.”

  Bailey giggled. Rafe did bring out the girl in her, but then, Rafe brought out the girl in everybody. Rafe was one hundred percent estrogen surge. “You don’t have a stretch limo,” Bailey told him.

  “Nobody has one,” he said. “You hire one. If you’re a wanker.”

  “What’s a wanker?” Bailey asked.

  “It’s a bad word,” Rafe said. “Never mind.”

  Lily smiled, said nothing, and didn’t think about Rafe leaving for New Mexico in two days to start his film. He was coming back every other weekend, he’d informed her already. She’d hold onto that and not think about what would happen after shooting was done. About the impossibility of living in Malibu again, even with Rafe, of leaving her goats, her shop, her place.

  No need to look so far ahead, she reminded herself. Life wasn’t the movies, and things didn’t always wrap up in a bow. Sometimes, your heart chose, and hers had chosen him a long time ago. Future pain or not. Stretch limo or not.

  “Huckleberries ahead,” she announced. “See that clump of bushes? That’s a good one.”

  Fifteen minutes of picking, and in Bailey’s case, plenty of eating, and they were moving uphill again. The day was warm, on the cusp of July. A drowsy hum of insects, the occasional blue jay squawking, the smell of pine and fir clean and sharp in the thin, clear air.

  Bailey was in front, the path getting rocky and steeper, and Rafe, who was behind her, asked, “All right?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m really strong.”

  “Yes,” he said, “you are. But what’s in your pack that’s so heavy?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder. “Nothing.” Sounding guarded. “Just a book.”

  “Huh.” He reached a hand out and tested the bottom of the pack. “Stop and give it to me. The pack.”

  Bailey turned a
nd shrugged her new red backpack off her shoulders. Now, she looked apprehensive. “It’s my book,” she said, “not a library book. I’m not getting it dirty or anything.”

  Rafe hefted the pack and said, “Nah. Just heavy, that’s all. Let me guess.” He smiled. “The animal book?”

  Bailey’s shy smile, then. “Yeah. Because we’re going to stop and eat lunch, and you always kiss Lily.”

  “I do, eh.” Rafe appeared to consider that while he lengthened the straps on her pack and slung it over his shoulders on top of his own. “You could be right. I don’t kiss her much, though. Occasional, we’ll call it.”

  Bailey looked at him with world-weary eyes. “You sort of do. And you put your hand on her knee and call her ‘baby’ and things. All the time. It’s kind of boring.”

  This time, Rafe’s laugh rang out. “Sorry. I’ll try to control myself better. But remember, I’m trying to ward off the dangerous appeal of Brett Hunter, and he may have more bathrooms than I do. It’s a dilemma.”

  Bailey smiled and turned around again, and they kept going, and finally, they got to the best place. Lily’s secret place off the trail, behind an enormous boulder brought down by some glacier long millennia ago. And behind it, a treasure trove, a forest, of huckleberry bushes. They were loaded.

  Huckleberry cobbler tonight, she thought. Huckleberry pancakes tomorrow. How many pancakes could Bailey eat? She was betting on “a lot.”

  Not Rafe, of course. He was still working on his lean muscle. He’d miss out, which was too bad, but when filming was over…she’d freeze them for that. She started to pick.

  It happened between one breath and the next. Chuck barked, and she smelled it. The scent of wet grass, but the grass wasn’t wet.

  Chuck barking again, his fur standing up. She dropped her bucket, and it bounced, the huckleberries spilling out and rolling like tiny blue-black marbles down the hill. She was reaching behind her, fumbling for the clip on her pack, saying, “Bear. Rafe. Bear.”

  It came around from uphill, from behind the boulder, closest to Rafe. Four feet tall at the enormous shoulder hump, checking at sight of them, swaying its huge, cinnamon-brown head. And starting to run.

  Chuck barked.

  She fell.

  Rafe had reached first for the spray can, but stopped himself in the same instant. Not enough time. After that, he stopped thinking and grabbed Bailey instead, shoving her to the ground with one hand on her shoulder even as he reached for Lily with the other, catching the edge of her pack and knocking her off her feet.

  “Down!” he was shouting. “Down!” Pulling her down on top of Bailey, then throwing himself over the girl. His hand reaching out, frantic, for the back of Lily’s neck, closing over her own hand, because it was already there. He felt it, then. Not the bear. Lily’s hand on his own neck, grabbing hold. He put his on top of hers and thought, Don’t. But he couldn’t hang on to the thought.

  A wave of scent like a fresh-mown field. Chuck barking, frantic. And a force like a tidal wave knocking into him. A blaze of pain like a brand on his forearm.

  He didn’t cry out. Neither did Lily. Or Bailey, crushed beneath them both, their arms interlaced over her head.

  Another starburst of pain. The other hand, now. Claws, he thought dimly. Lily. It had to be clawing at her hand, too. He wanted it to go for him instead, but he couldn’t think how to make it happen.

  Lie still. Hold on.

  Hot breath. The rake of claws. Waiting for the clamp of teeth on his skull, knowing that would be the last thing, and thinking, Fine. Fine. Take me. And Chuck barking.

  Bailey was squashed. She didn’t know what was happening. She’d been eating a huckleberry, and then Rafe had grabbed her and thrown her down, and his and Lily’s bodies were both shaking. There was a really strong smell, and loud breath like a dog panting, only way more, and Chuck was barking. And she could hardly breathe.

  She didn’t say anything. She made herself be still, so whatever it was would stop, and waited for it to be over.

  It was a long time. The shaking kept going, and the smell, and the breath, and the barking, and then the shaking stopped. Chuck was still barking, but farther away, and everybody was really still.

  Somebody moved. Lily, because she said in a scared voice, “It’s gone. We have to get out of here. Rafe. Are you OK? Oh, God. Rafe.”

  She was moving, getting off of Bailey, but something was still on top of her. Rafe. Now, he moved, too, and Bailey wiggled away and got to her knees.

  Rafe was bloody. His arm, and his hand. His long-sleeved shirt was ripped up the whole sleeve, and there was red blood all over it, dripping into the grass. Lily was bloody, too, but it was mostly just her hand.

  Bailey still didn’t say anything. Chuck came running back, not barking anymore, and went over to Rafe. He started licking his hand, dancing around and whining like he was nervous.

  “Back to the trail,” Lily said. “We’ll get farther down, and then we’ll work on your arm, Rafe. We have to get out of here now, though, in case it comes back.”

  Rafe shook his head like he was trying to get water out of his ears and said, “Yeah. Come on.” He took Bailey’s hand, but his hand was wet. It was bloody, too, even though it wasn’t the one with his hurt arm. He was pulling Bailey anyway, almost running back to the trail, and pushing Lily ahead of them. Chuck was behind them, Bailey thought. She couldn’t see him, anyway.

  They got to the trail, and everybody ran faster. Rafe was still holding Bailey’s hand, and he looked down at her and asked, “All right? Need me to carry you?”

  “No,” Bailey said. “I can run.” Her voice didn’t sound like normal, either. It sounded like she was in a tunnel, and she felt like she was in a tunnel, too. Like everything was hollow.

  They ran for minutes and minutes, and then Lily stopped running and said, “Rafe. Take off your pack and your shirt.” She’d unclipped the can of spray from her backpack, and she had it in her hand. It didn’t have the plastic piece on it that kept it from spraying anymore, so she’d taken it off like she’d told Rafe not to do unless there was a bear. She handed it to Bailey and said, “I’m going to wrap Rafe’s arm. If the bear comes, spray it in the face. Spray it hard.”

  “OK,” Bailey said. She faced back up the trail, the way they’d come. Oh. It had been a bear. A grizzly bear, maybe. Chuck was with her, looking up the trail, so she felt braver. She held the spray can and watched.

  Lily was helping Rafe take off his torn shirt, and she was taking off her shirt, too, so she only had on a bra. She wrapped Rafe’s bloody shirt around his arm and tied the sleeves. “That’s as tight as I can get it,” she said. “It might slow the bleeding some.” She took her shirt, then, and wrapped it around his hand, the one on that same arm, and tied that, too.

  “Your hand,” Rafe said.

  She said, “I’m not hurt.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You are.”

  She looked at her hand. “Oh. Well, I’m not hurt as badly as you.” She yanked a water bottle out of the side of her backpack and gave it to him. “Drink that. Shock.”

  He didn’t say anything, just drank half of the water and handed it back to Lily, who gave it to Bailey and took the bear spray back. “I’ll watch now,” she said. “Take a drink. We need to run back. Can you run?”

  “Yes,” Bailey said, and Lily took the water bottle back and started to run again. In her bra, which had stripes on it like a zebra. Down through the woods the way they’d come.

  It took a long time. Bailey kept thinking she heard the bear, but Chuck wasn’t barking, so it must not be coming. They ran all the way down, and then they went through the gate again, and along the other path, on Lily’s land. Not all the way to where her house was. They went around a corner, and the guys were there, the ones who were making the ski trail, with machines and shovels.

  Lily ran right up to them in her bra and said, “Get us to somebody’s pickup. Take us to the hospital. Do it now.”

  Afterwards, Raf
e only remembered snatches of the rest of that trip. Of climbing into the cab of the pickup beside Lily, and Bailey jumping into the bed with Chuck. Of saying, “Thanks, mate,” to the fella who was peeling out of the clearing and bumping down the dirt track. Of keeping his arm around Lily and thinking about Bailey in the back, in the dust, and hoping she was all right.

  His arm was on fire, and he didn’t care. Lily was here, and Bailey was here, and they were going to be all right.

  The emergency room wasn’t fun, but heaps of things weren’t fun. He could hear Lily in the cubicle next to his, with a sheriff’s deputy, answering questions. He should be helping her do that, but he was stuck on a hard, narrow hospital bed, gritting his teeth despite the shots of lidocaine and the IV, as his wounds were cleaned and stitched.

  His left hand wasn’t bad, just a couple wide, bleeding scratches that a few stitches took care of. A swipe of a paw, that was all. His right arm and hand were much worse.

  “Well, it didn’t bite you,” the doctor said. Cheerfully, of course. ER doctors were all arseholes. Rafe filed that away in case he ever had to play one. “So there’s that. Sure did scratch the hell out of you, though. Some of these babies are deep. You won’t be playing piano for a while.”

  “Yeah,” Rafe said. “I…noticed.” He would have said something about Bailey, but Lily had already done that, too.

  “What do you do for a living?” the fella asked. Making conversation during the boring process of stitching up too many wounds, or taking Rafe’s mind off the activity, if that were possible.

  “I’m an actor,” Rafe said. He’d have said something else, but he couldn’t be bothered.

  “Really.” The endless poking stopped, then started up again. “Stage or screen?”

  “Screen.” More fiery tugging and pulling.

  “Would I have seen you in anything?”

  “Depends how high-minded your tastes are, I reckon,” Rafe managed to say.