by Laura Taylor
9
An experienced pilot, Nicholas skillfully landed his helicopter the following morning in a small, snow–covered clearing adjacent to one of several primitive log cabins that Sean often used for shelter. The pre–arranged and very remote location suited both men, primarily because the area was accessible only by air or on foot.
Nicholas had permitted the old logging trails that crisscrossed his property to become overgrown with vegetation as a means of discouraging the use of off–road vehicles by tourists or other curiosity seekers. He knew that Sean, like a few of the other men who resided on his land and personified the definition of true survivalists, required the serenity of the isolated terrain for the peace of mind it offered.
Defensive and unpredictable in the presence of strangers, Sean now viewed the so–called civilized world as a threat on a variety of levels. As well, he perceived himself as a deadly threat to ordinary people. Nicholas knew that the simple act of prowling the land for days and weeks at a time had evolved into a form of psychological therapy for him, a process he’d once rejected while still hospitalized despite repeated urging from Nicholas.
As he checked the cockpit controls and released his seatbelt and shoulder harness, Nicholas recalled how desperate he’d felt several years earlier while trying to deal with Sean’s wildly fluctuating moods and lethal behavior. Each medical facility Nicholas had taken him to had drugged Sean into a mind–numbed state. Infuriated by the callous treatment of his old friend, he’d finally decided to transport Sean to his northern Nevada refuge and allow him free rein.
Much to the collective relief of his fellow ex–mercenaries, Sean had found in the towering pines, unforgiving terrain, and jutting mountain peaks what the doctors and psychiatrists had failed to provide—a sense of belonging and the means by which to cope with the self–hatred that often filled his heart when he remembered the acts of violence he’d committed against others.
Although Sean rarely articulated his feelings, Nicholas knew that he now experienced at least limited relief from the demons that tormented him and memories of the torture he’d endured at the hands of others. Like Nicholas, he’d also been imprisoned during his years as a mercenary. The grotesque conditions of a Central American prison and the torture he’d barely survived had damaged his soul and broken his spirit before Nicholas had successfully rescued him.
But unlike Nicholas, Sean Cassidy’s mind still remained a captive of the past. No one among his friends expected him to regain the ground he’d lost as a person, least of all Nicholas, but they were all dedicated to his day–to–day survival until God or the natural environment relieved him of the burdens he carried.
Nicholas exhaled quietly before he removed and set aside his headset. He glanced at Hannah, who responded to him with a wide smile. Seeing the optimism and hope in her bright green eyes and animated face gave him pause and filled him with guilt. Ignorant of his reluctant agreement with Sean, Hannah was destined for disappointment if she expected to see her brother again.
Taking her glove–covered hand, he squeezed it before exiting the helicopter and walking around to her side of the aircraft. He lifted her out of the helicopter, steadying her when she lost her footing on a patch of snow–dusted ice.
Hannah looked eagerly in the direction of the cabin, but she frowned just a few seconds later. Nicholas knew she’d finally registered the absence of signs of habitation in and around the cabin.
"There’s no smoke coming out of the chimney." She shivered as a gust of cold wind buffeted her body, adding color to her cheeks.
Nicholas nodded, his expression grim. "I noticed."
She turned, extricating herself from his steadying hand. "May I go inside?"
"Of course. There aren’t any locks on the door, so you won’t need a key. Take your time. The weather’s on our side today."
Her attention fixed on her destination, Hannah carefully made her way through the low drifts of snow that stretched across the clearing to the front of the log cabin. She pushed open the door, pausing once she stepped inside. The starkly impersonal quality of the interior of the one–room dwelling surprised her. She eased the door shut behind her, then leaned back against it.
Her gaze slowly traveled over log walls, curtain–less windows, planked flooring, a rudimentary kitchen with a water pump, a table and two wooden chairs, and a narrow bed topped with a stack of neatly folded blankets. She tried to picture Sean in such a barren environment, but she had trouble summoning the image.
Noticing a stack of well–thumbed paperback books, she sighed with relief because she recalled his love of books. A cupboard without doors displayed countless jars of homemade jams and vegetables, prompting her to wonder if both Sean and Nicholas enjoyed the friendship of the same creative cook.
Hannah ventured deeper into the room, absently fingering the sealed envelope tucked inside her jacket pocket. She paused behind one of the chairs, studying the native stone fireplace that dominated one wall of the modest cabin. The workmanship seemed vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t have said why.
Despite the logs, bits of kindling, and crumpled newspaper that filled an old woven basket positioned on the hearth, Hannah detected no scent of a recent fire. She pivoted full circle, searching out some hint of Sean’s presence. In the end, she found nothing beyond the stack of old books.
Sadness bloomed within her. Her throat ached and her eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. Shoulders slumping, she accepted the fact that the brother she remembered, the young man who’d laughed easily, played football like a pro, and teased his younger sisters without mercy, had indeed become the man Nicholas had described. A man she no longer knew. A man she might never know again.
Hannah tugged the sealed letter Nicholas had encouraged her to write that morning from her pocket. She placed it beside the lantern that sat in the center of the wooden table. Smoothing her fingertips across the front where she’d written Sean’s name, she whispered, "Please stay safe, big brother. I love you."
Nicholas caught Hannah as she burst out of the cabin. He saw her grief in the tears that trailed down her cheeks. He held her through her brief struggle to free herself, a subsequent wounded–sounding cry of anguish, and the sudden slump of her body against his own. While she wept, he silently cursed both himself and Sean.
Although he tried to comfort her, he felt a sense of helplessness that he’d never before experienced. She finally eased out of his embrace, wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, and headed in the direction of the helicopter without saying a single word.
Nicholas followed her, alarmed by the depth of her despair and her silence. He caught her easily, sliding his hands around her waist and tugging her back against his powerful body. They stood in the center of the clearing, and this time she didn’t fight him. Instead, she rested the back of her head against his shoulder and exhaled shakily.
"Why did this have to happen to him?" she asked so softly that the wind nearly obliterated the sound of her voice. "Why?"
Nicholas doubted that she really expected an answer, so he didn’t try to provide one. He simply held her, aware that Sean watched them from the stand of trees at the edge of the clearing.
They stood there for a long while, neither one moving, neither one speaking until the wind picked up and the cold drove them back into the helicopter.
Hannah finally met his gaze as he leaned toward her from his side of the cockpit and made certain her seatbelt was secured correctly. "I’m so cold," she whispered. "Please make me warm again, Nicholas."
He paled before jerking a nod in her direction and starting the engine of the aircraft. The weather cooperated by remaining crisp and clear as they returned to the landing site hollowed out of the side of the mountain he called home.
Nicholas lifted her out of the helicopter and carried her down the steep trail that led to the house. After helping Hannah out of her heavy jacket, boots, and gloves once they entered the kitchen, he cared for her as a parent woul
d a small, defenseless child. He guided her into the nearest chair, made a quick trip to the bar, and returned with two brandy–filled snifters.
"Tell me exactly what you need, Hannah." He settled into the chair across from her as he spoke.
She lifted bleak eyes to his face. "You. I need you, Nicholas. Just you."
"What can I do?" he asked.
"You’re here. That’s what I need right now, because I wouldn’t be able to deal with this without you." She took a sip of the brandy before she lowered the snifter to the table with shaking hands. Finally, she asked, "Isn’t he lonely?"
He spoke without thinking. "We’re all lonely, but it’s different for each one of us. As for Sean, he needs the silence and the open spaces in order to survive."
"But who would help him if he became ill or was injured? Would you even find him in time if he had an accident?"
"We all look out for each other, Hannah. The system’s been tested many times, and it works. Trust me on that, please."
"I do trust you. You know I do, but my heart breaks for Sean, and I’m so worried about him."
He reached across the table and clasped her hands. "Try to see this place through the eyes of a man who’s been surrounded by death and destruction, some of which he has personally caused. Try to visualize a man so consumed by his guilt that he feels like he’s being driven insane by it. Then, try to understand that this land has become a retreat for him, a safe haven that allows him to vent his rage and frustration with himself and with the world he was a part of for far too many years."
"But he’s so alone," she insisted, still fixed on the isolation. "You’re all so alone."
"That may be true, but there are ways to deal with the loneliness and isolation. Almost everyone here has found a way to carve out a new life and new identity," he explained, his thoughts on the salvation he’d found in his writing and in her arms. Without his writing, he would never have discovered an outlet in which he could express his conflicted emotions. And without her, he would never have unearthed his capacity to love again.
"The others you’ve mentioned. Are they happy living this way?"
Nicholas nodded. "For the most part, although not everyone appreciates the spartan lifestyle that Sean’s chosen for himself. Several of the homes we’ve built here are very similar to mine. Others are far more spectacular." He paused, and then said, "And Sean is welcome in every one of them whenever he chooses to visit an old friend. It doesn’t happen often, but each residence has a separate cabin designed to meet his needs."
"You’ve all gone to a great deal of effort for him."
"Whatever he wants or needs, he receives, Hannah."
"And does everyone fly a helicopter?" she asked, her natural curiosity diminishing at least some of the anguish that still shadowed her eyes.
He shrugged. "Most of us do. It’s a simple matter of convenience when you live in such a remote area. Besides, I own tens of thousands of acres, and backpacking out on foot during the winter months through twenty or thirty foot high snowdrifts can be dangerous, especially for the women in our group."
She blinked in surprise. "Women? I didn’t realize that you had women living here."
"We’re not monks."
He laughed when he saw the expression on her face, an expression that he rather liked because it smacked of jealousy. And he wanted to believe that, under different circumstances, Hannah would feel compelled to exercise her territorial rights where he was concerned if put to the test or challenged by another woman.
"They’re friends. Good friends."
"Women mercenaries?" she said in disbelief.
He nodded. "Rather a foreign concept in your world, I would imagine."
Her gaze narrowed, her curiosity obviously piqued. "Tell me about the person who makes the jams and cans the vegetables."
"Geneva Talmadge." He grinned suddenly.
"What’s so damn funny?"
"Geneva’s a demo specialist. Her late father was an engineer, and he trained her. She was even better at demolition work than Patrick. She looks like an angel, has the body of a centerfold, and she’s as tough as steel."
Hannah made a huffing sound, and then observed, "She certainly doesn’t sound wounded."
Nicholas sobered. "I’ve known her since she was a teenager. Geneva worked for me for several years. She’s had a price on her head for years… a seven figure price for anyone who takes her out. She’s hearing impaired, so she’s doubly vulnerable to her enemies in the hearing world. She claims she spends time in the kitchen as a form of therapy, but I think she just enjoys the process of creating something, rather than the act of destruction. Given the volume of the stuff she produces, it’s no wonder she’s on the verge of opening a shop in town. And if it’s as successful as I suspect it will be, she’ll probably wind up with a chain of stores. I’m also her business manager, and I’ve been pushing her in that direction for the last year or so."
"Business manager?"
He grinned, loving her scowl. "And friend."
"Don’t forget ex–boss and protector," she reminded him.
Nicholas shrugged.
"As sexist as this will probably sound, I had no idea that women mercenaries even existed." She laughed, startling him with the return of her humor.
"What?"
"Given the skills you and your friends possess, not to mention your very protective attitude about your land, the crime rate in this part of Nevada must have plummeted when you all moved into the area. I wonder if the law enforcement authorities appreciate the advantage your presence offers to them and the other local residents."
Nicholas studied her features as her smile faded and her gaze drifted to the view offered by the window behind him. While it surprised him that she’d picked up on one of the more subtle, but very tangible, benefits of their presence in the region, he kept his reaction to himself. As he watched her, he recalled a conversation he’d had with the county sheriff during one of his infrequent visits. The man had voiced a similar observation, as well as a firm warning that he expected Nicholas to keep a tight rein on the residents of his property, despite the fact that they all seemed inclined to shun contact with most people beyond the boundary lines of his land.
"I miss Sean so much," she confessed, her mood abruptly shifting again. "We all do. Our family feels incomplete without him. He was such an incredible big brother when we were all growing up. He looked out for us, patched us up when we scraped a knee or an elbow, and helped us with our homework. He even protected us from the bullies in the neighborhood."
Nicholas said quietly, "He saved my life, Hannah, not once but several times, so I think I understand some of what you’re feeling. I’d give anything to have the old Sean back, but that isn’t likely to ever happen. He’s one of the emotional fatalities of our business."
She tugged her hands free of his grasp and lowered them to her lap. "Sean is completely lost to us, isn’t he? And he’ll never be strong enough to leave here, will he?"
"I think you already know the answers to those questions." Despite his empathy for Hannah, his tone became terse. "As much as I’d like to, I can’t change what’s happened to him, not even for you."
"My God, what will I tell Mom? She knows why I came here. She expects me to persuade Sean to come home."
Nicholas stood suddenly, the legs of his chair scraping across the floor as he abandoned it without a backward glance. Walking to the window, he paused there, as though to study the panoramic view, but he didn’t actually focus on anything beyond the double panes of security glass. He clenched his fists, the gesture a validation of his frustration. He longed to supply a solution to Hannah’s dilemma, but he was fresh out of miracles.
"You warned me, but I refused to believe you. I’ve been such a fool."
"You aren’t a fool. No one wants to believe how bad off he is, but we must for his sake."
"I realize that now." She left her chair, carried the two brandy snifters to the kitchen sink, and placed
them there. "I left the letter on the table in the cabin. I hope he eventually finds it."
"He will."
Through narrowed eyes, he watched her close the space that separated them. Clad in black leggings, warm socks, and a thigh–length white sweater, Hannah looked young, innocent, and vulnerable. She paused just a few feet away from him, her gaze distant as she stared out the window.
Nicholas longed to ask her to stay with him for as long as she could tolerate the isolation, but he knew how selfish such a request would be. He also wanted to tell her that he needed her, but why add another complication to her already complex life?
The reality was that Sean Cassidy was one soldier destined not to return home. Hannah now faced the task of carrying that sad news to her family. She deserved to be free to resume her life as a teacher and advocate for abused children, two pursuits that obviously meant the world to her.
He had to bite back the admission that he wanted her to stay for a few more days of shared time so that he could collect more memories of her, memories that he would store in his heart and bring out whenever he missed her the most. Instead of being honest about his own motives, he suggested, "Why don’t you wait a day or two for Sean? I don’t want to give you false hope, but if he finds your letter, he may decide he wants to see you."
She nodded. Then she turned to him and walked straight into his arms. He held her close, guilt–ridden as he absorbed the trembling of her slender body. He offered her the reassurance of his embrace while his own frustration with the situation roared through him. And although he nearly lost control and shouted his rage, he managed to confine his turmoil to a silent curse against the forces working against them.
A short while later Hannah eased free of his snug hold, lifted her face into view, and searched his features with eyes that reflected the weary state of her emotions. "I would like to give Sean a chance to respond to my letter, but I don’t expect to see him. I want to stay, though, because I want to be with you."