He decided to go into town in a couple of days to pick up a few grocery items and call Loretta and Mary, to get a sense of where things stood. That would give him time to work on his line of reasoning with Cassandra . . . time for her to relax and enjoy their surroundings . . . time for clearer heads to prevail.
“I wish I knew how things were going to turn out,” she said, looking up into the night sky as if searching for an answer.
As he followed her gaze, an idea suddenly occurred to him—one that hopefully would help her relax and provide a pleasant distraction while he worked on his rebuttal. “Let’s make tomorrow another special day,” he said.
She sat up in her chair. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“I have a great idea. But I’m going to keep you in suspense.”
She groaned in protest and stood up. “On that note, I’m going to go to bed and hope my curiosity doesn’t keep me awake.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, she squeezed gently and added, “Thanks for all you’re doing, Turner. I really appreciate it. Good night.”
“Good night,” he said, patting her hand. “And sweet dreams.”
The warmth of her touch on his shoulder lingered long after she went inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts. And plans.
CHAPTER 22
CASSANDRA WOKE THE following morning feeling more rested than she had in ages. She showered and then went into the kitchen to start breakfast. But Turner was already at the stove, making scrambled eggs and helping Justin spread jam on a piece of toast.
“I slept in,” she said. “And it felt good.”
“There’s no such thing as sleeping in when you’re on vacation,” Turner replied, turning the eggs over in the frying pan.
“The day begins when we say it begins.”
“Or when Mister Buster here says it begins,” she said, kissing Justin on the head. “Morning, sweetie. How did you sleep last night?”
“I dreamed a bear was chasing me,” Justin answered.
Turner winced guiltily and focused on the eggs.
Cassandra came over and stood beside him. “So what’s on the itinerary today?” she asked, nudging him with her elbow.
“What’s itinerary?” Justin asked, licking the jam off his fingers.
“Something fun,” Turner said. “We’re going on a hike.”
“Yeah!” Justin yelled, spilling jam down the front of his shirt.
Cassandra imitated him in fun, waving her arms in the air. It felt good to be this carefree and not have to worry about meeting expectations . . . or else!
Turner smiled. “I’m glad to see so much enthusiasm.”
“Actually, a hike sounds fun,” she said. “Let’s eat breakfast and then I’ll pack a lunch. We can find a nice place to picnic.”
They sat down to breakfast and talked as if they had been doing it for years. Cassandra noticed how easy it was to converse with Turner about . . . everything. She could discuss the weather with him as easily as she could her favorite movie. There was so much to talk about. And this time none of it involved high school or other references to the past.
When he finished eating, Justin jumped down from the table and headed for the door, wiping his sticky fingers on his pants.
Cassandra opened her mouth to order him back, but Turner said, “No sense making him clean up now. He’s only going to get dirtier.”
She nodded in resignation and continued eating while Turner went outside to keep an eye on Justin. She appreciated how careful Turner was to not leave Justin unattended. He watched her son like a hawk, and the gesture touched her deeply and made her feel safe. She knew this respite couldn’t last, but for now she pushed aside her worries concerning the future in order to enjoy the present.
When everything was ready, she appeared on the porch with the sack lunch. “Who wants to go on a hike?” she called.
“Me!” Justin called, grabbing Turner’s hand and hurrying toward the cabin.
“So where’s the trail?” she asked, coming down the steps to join them.
“Right this way,” Turner said, pointing to the far side of the clearing. “It heads up the slope to the west and should give us a great view of the lake.”
“Let’s go,” she said, falling in behind Turner and Justin.
The sun peered over the treetops, warming the air. It had cooled down considerably during the night, but now the chill was gone. The day promised to be another vacationer’s delight.
The sky was cloudless and looked like a deep blue fabric stretched tightly across the surrounding mountain peaks.
The trail ran across the face of the terrain like an ancient scar. It was lined with wildflowers in various stages of bloom.
Thick bushes threatened to overgrow the trail, but the packed, damp soil of the path resisted intrusion.
“What are these flowers called?” Cassandra asked, pointing to a stand of reddish-purple flowers growing along a dried-out creek bed near the trail.
“Those are Mountain Fireweed,” Turner replied.
“They’re beautiful.”
“They’re one of the first plants to reappear after a forest fire.
When the leaves are young, they can be eaten like vegetable greens, but when they get older—like these—they taste tough and bitter. The stems can be peeled and eaten raw and are a good source of vitamin C.”
“Well, thank you for the lesson, Professor Caldwell,” she said. It felt good to banter with someone and not have to measure every word she said.
“Let’s pick some,” Justin said, taking a step toward them.
“Stay on the trail, little man,” Turner said. “See those tall plants beside them, with the little, round, greenish-white flowers? That’s stinging nettle.”
“Can we pick them too?”
“They’re owie,” Turner said. “They’ll hurt you.”
Justin’s eyes grew large, and he stepped back onto the trail.
Farther ahead the path ran into a stand of evergreens before disappearing around a large outcropping of weathered granite that protruded from the ground like petrified fingers.
The trail showed evidence of hikers and other outdoor enthusiasts, although it looked long forgotten and neglected. Just where it led, Cassandra couldn’t guess. But that only added to the excitement of the hike.
“Can we see a bear today, Mommy?” Justin asked, stopping to examine a gnarled twig that lay on the trail.
She shook her head and said, “I hope not.” Then turning toward Turner, she asked, “Do you know any safety tips? Like what to do if you come across a bear?”
“Sure. Leave.”
She rolled her eyes and scanned the trail ahead. “I hope our approach doesn’t sound like a dinner bell to some hungry b-e-a-r, lying in wait with a napkin tied around its neck.”
“Attacks are rare. And we’re making enough noise to give anything ahead advance notice.”
“I think you’re supposed to play dead if one attacks you.”
“It will usually stop its attack once it no longer feels threatened. If you remain quiet and motionless for as long as possible, there’s a chance it will lose interest and leave.”
“Just a chance?”
“Actually a good chance. But I’ll tell you my idea of survival.
Make sure you can outrun the person you’re with.”
Cassandra picked up a pinecone and threw it at him. “Very funny.”
The trail stopped at the face of a steep embankment, about ten feet high. Turner scaled the incline, demonstrating rock-climbing experience, and then reached down for Justin’s hand. Cassandra lifted her son so Turner could grab him around the wrists and pull him up. Then he extended his hand to her.
After clasping his hand firmly, Cassandra went up the face with surprising ease. She was aware of the strength in his arms, and she felt secure in his grip.
Before continuing the hike, they paused to enjoy the vista. The far end of the lake was visible through the treetops, and the lookout tower she had
noticed the day before stood on its perch to the south. The mountain peaks were framed dramatically against the blue sky.
From here the trail picked up again, leveling off so walking became easier. But it was obvious to Cassandra that they weren’t going to set any land speed records. Justin stopped to examine every flower, explore every bush, and investigate every tree. She smiled at his delight in the little things: an insect climbing up the stalk of a flower, furry lichen growing on an exposed boulder, and a piece of rotted wood lying along the edge of the path. Everything was exciting to him, and she watched him in fascination. His joy in experiencing the surroundings was infectious, and she was glad to let him take his time. She noticed how patient Turner was about it too, and she appreciated it for her son’s sake. This was such a rare opportunity for a little boy raised in the city.
At one point Justin stumbled and fell over a rock. The trail was spongy with pine needles and other plant matter, and he was back on his feet in an instant. He wiped his hands on his shirt, putting twin smudges down either side.
Turner grinned and looked at Cassandra as if to say, Told you so.
She stuck out her tongue at him and pulled a face before she could stop herself, suddenly embarrassed by her actions. It was so . . . teenager-like. But Turner only laughed and brushed a few pine needles off Justin’s shirt.
Hurrying over to examine a stand of tall flowers with graceful yellow petals, Justin stared at them but didn’t touch them. “See the flowers, Mommy.”
“Globeflower,” Turner said. “A member of the buttercup family. You can pick them, little man. But just don’t eat them.”
“Are they poisonous?” Cassandra asked.
“They contain a chemical that works like a laxative.”
“What’s laxative?” Justin asked.
“It helps you go to the bathroom.”
“I don’t have to go to the bathroom.”
Cassandra chuckled and knelt beside her son while he plucked a flower and stuck it in her hair. She looked over at Turner and smiled.
Turner eyed her intently before suddenly dropping his gaze.
“W–we should keep going,” he said.
Cassandra smiled to herself. Had Turner just blushed? She was used to men looking at her, longingly, lustfully. But Turner’s reaction lifted her spirits in a way that leering glances and open invitations never could.
They continued along the trail, which rose in elevation, forcing them to go even slower. It led to an outcropping of rock that overlooked the lake far below. To Cassandra the scene was postcard worthy.
“Let’s picnic here,” she said, setting the lunch sack down.
“Justin, honey, don’t get too close to the edge.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Turner said.
Cassandra spread out a lunch similar to yesterday’s fare, and the three of them ate as they viewed the vista that presented itself in all its rugged beauty. She thought how the fresh air added the right ambience to the food. Fine wine and gourmet cheese couldn’t have tasted better than their humble offerings, considering the beauty and tranquility of the setting.
Justin, to whom the scenery was something to be explored rather than viewed, inhaled his sandwich and got to his feet, ready to proceed. Cassandra packed the remainder away, and they set out again. She didn’t dare let Justin take a step on his own for fear he’d wander too close to the edge of the cliff. It was better to keep moving with him safely wedged between Turner and her.
The trail wound through a thick growth of trees and gradually rose again. So far they hadn’t seen any animals. She was hoping to spot a deer or an elk in the distance to add to Justin’s memory book, but only the occasional bird flitted by.
At length Justin pointed ahead and said, “See the big hole, Mommy. ”
Cassandra had been walking with her head down, watching her footing. She looked up to see a jagged hole in the side of a vertical shaft of rock, where the mountain took a sudden upturn. It was a perfect cave for a napping bear or lurking mountain lion.
“Let’s go see it,” he said.
“Is it safe?” she asked, glancing uncertainly at Turner.
He studied the opening. “I don’t see any signs of an occupant. No droppings or remnants of fur and bones or uprooted plants. But better to be safe than sorry.” He picked up a rock and threw it into the opening.
Cassandra got ready to scoop up Justin and make a break for it should an angry carnivore, sporting a fresh goose egg, come charging out. But only the sounds of the rock careening off the walls echoed back. Nothing grunted in protest and no enraged animal emerged to defend its territory.
Turner peeked inside the cave and sniffed the air. “No animal odor,” he noted.
“Let’s go inside, Mommy,” Justin said, darting ahead.
Turner grabbed him by the arm. “Hold on, little man,” he said, negotiating his way over some strewn boulders and jagged pieces of granite as he entered the cave. “I’ll go first.”
Cassandra followed with Justin. When her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw that the narrow opening gave way to a spacious room. The decor would not win an interior design award, but it was intriguing nonetheless. The floor rose gradually toward the back of the cave, where several small ledges sat like benches. The inner recesses of the cave remained in the shadows, but for the most part the interior was well lit.
Justin climbed up on a rock bench and sat dangling his legs back and forth, looking proud of himself. Cassandra took advantage of the lull to sit down on a large boulder, waiting for her son to declare an end to the rest and relaxation.
A trickle of water oozed between layers of rock in the side of the wall. Turner put his finger up to it and collected a single water droplet. Applying it to the tip of his tongue, he nodded in approval.
Cassandra tasted it and found that it was as fresh as spring water.
“It has been filtered as it seeped through the layers of rock and sediment to reach this outlet,” Turner explained. “And look here.” He pointed to a ring-shaped mineral deposit on the floor at the base of the wall. “That’s called a soda straw. When the water evaporates, it leaves minerals behind. Over time the deposit gets bigger and forms a hollow formation that looks just like—”
“A soda straw,” Cassandra said.
“Let me see it,” Justin said, rushing forward.
“Be careful,” Turner cautioned. “It’s very—”
Justin grabbed it and it crumbled between his fingers.
“—fragile,” Turner said.
Justin’s lip began to tremble and his eyes clouded over.
“It’s okay, little man,” Turner said, comforting him. “It’ll form again. No harm done.”
Justin sniffed back tears and went to investigate a colorful rock that caught his attention.
As Cassandra watched her son, she became aware of a cool draft of air. Peering into the dimness, she noticed the outline of a narrow tunnel, leading off into the blackness beyond. It probably surfaced farther up the mountain, she decided, drawing fresh air down into the cave.
The moderate temperature and deep silence beckoned: relax . . . drift . . . sleep. And she could feel herself further disconnecting from her former life as the stress continued to dissipate like morning dew. It was hard to believe that her marriage and life in Las Vegas hadn’t been a dream—a nightmare actually—because in many ways it seemed so long ago. It was easier and far more pleasant to imagine that being with Turner and Justin was her real life. Self-delusional, true. But for now all she wanted to do was sit back and enjoy the moment.
CHAPTER 23
JUSTIN EXPLORED THE interior of the cave, finding wonders that captivated his four-year-old imagination. Several stalactites hung from a low section of the ceiling. They were several inches in length and resembled grayish icicles. He studied them with fascination before turning his attention to a small growth of yellowish-brown lichens nearby. He touched the fuzzy plants and giggled, saying they tickled him.
Cassandra came out of her reverie in time to see Justin flash by her. Instinctively she leaped to her feet and attempted to grab him so he didn’t get away. In the process, she stumbled over a rock and her ankle twisted sideways. She cried in agony and fell to the ground.
“Mommy!” Justin yelled, rushing back to her.
She felt nauseous with pain and began shaking uncontrollably. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, and she fought the urge to vomit.
Turner was beside her in an instant, cradling her head and wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek.
“Stupid me!” she moaned through clenched teeth.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” Justin asked, starting to cry.
“Mommy’s okay,” she said, wiping his tears and grimacing as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Let me try to stand up.”
“Rest for a minute,” Turner said, dabbing her forehead with the bottom of his shirt. “I need to look at your ankle.”
She winced as Turner gently lifted the leg of her pants and rolled down her sock. The initial wave of nausea began to pass, and she found herself breathing a little easier. “How does it look?” she asked.
“It’s starting to swell. I’m going to leave your shoe on to keep compression on your ankle. Now I just have to find a way to immobilize it.”
“Got any splints in your back pocket?” she said, as a tremor shook her body again.
“No, but I can find something.”
While Justin cuddled up in her arms, Turner left for a minute. He returned carrying a small log. “It’s rotted in the middle so this should work,” he said.
She watched as he broke off two curved pieces, about the length from her ankle to her knee. He put them on either side of her leg and had her hold them in place. Then he removed his T-shirt and tore it into strips, which he used to tie the two pieces in place.
The Return of Cassandra Todd Page 13