by K. R. Rowe
Distraught, he jumped to his feet, and roared with raw, uncontrolled fury. He snapped his attention to Lucien, and with long determined strides, he quickly stood over him. With his gun drawn and cocked, his intention was clear, but Matt grabbed his wrist.
"Alex! No!"
"Go ahead—kill me," Lucien said.
"Alex …." He heard the soft whisper of his name.
A loud outburst echoed from the darkness, and dredged her from the refuge of sleep. Was it a dream or was it real?
"Alex, no …." she mumbled, repeating the disembodied words, as they filtered in and swirled around in her head.
"Grace," a deep soothing voice spoke from in front of her. The sound of it was comforting. It felt like the sun’s caress. It wrapped her in warmth, and she did not want to wake up. She refused to open her eyes in fear that no one would be there.
"Grace, please," she heard again, "please, open your eyes." The voice sounded desperate.
Her heavy lids raised and the voice had a face. His ocean blue eyes were soft with concern and his shaking hand lay on her cheek. She struggled to speak.
"Shhh … you're safe now. I've come to take you home." He stroked her hair back, away from her face. He untied her hands, carefully lifted her in his arms, and stood.
"No, no, no," Lucien said. His voice echoed from across the room. "You can’t go back there. Not now. It’s not safe."
Alex looked at him in disbelief. What is with this guy? His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he followed the man's gaze to the girl in his arms.
"André won't give up if she gets away," Lucien nodded toward the unconscious man on the floor. "He’s obsessive and will not want to disappoint his father," he said. "And we're not alone. There are many others like us."
"And why is it that you care so much?" Alex barked.
"I hate to admit it but he's right," Matt said. "Regardless of his motives, the city’s too dangerous. We should wait until the military gets things under control before we take that chance."
Alex looked down at Grace. She was burning in his arms.
"You know," Matt leaned close to Alex and continued in a lowered voice. "There ain’t nothin’ that would suit me more than to kill these two scum bags before we leave. But I think the girls have been through enough already. They don’t need to see that."
Alex thought about it for a minute and finally responded. He hoped he would not regret his decision to leave them alive.
"You’re right," Alex said. "We'll lock them up and leave them in here." He glared at Lucien and snarled, "Consider this to be your lucky day."
"I’ll call the police when we get to the truck," Matt said. He ran his hand across Lydia's throat where a dark bruise had started to form. "Are you ok?" he asked. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm fine."
The slog to the truck was muddy and treacherous, but Alex carried Grace like a priceless china doll. He held his breath, as if his breathing would break her, and gently placed her in the back seat.
"You drive." He tossed the keys to Matt. "Head toward Mom's."
Soaked to the bone from the overnight storms, he took off his vest, put it aside, peeled off his shirt, and wrung it out. She had not regained consciousness again. She was still burning hot with fever, and his shirt was cool and damp. He climbed in, pulled her next to his bare chest, and placed the cool shirt against her head.
The drive was brutally long and Grace was restless with bad dreams. The pulse in her throat drummed a heated caress against his fingertips, as he cradled her head in his arms. He held her close and kept careful watch of the steady rise and fall of her breathing. Her warm, moist breath against his chest, felt like a burning hot torch on his skin. He sat entranced, as she lay helpless in front of him.
"Alex!" The sound of his name for the third time finally called his attention to the front of the truck.
"Huh? What?"
Matt's voice sounded tense and uneasy as he spoke. "I just talked to Atticus. The police scoured the area after we left and the man Pierre spilled his guts. He gave them a lot of information."
"And they found them?" Alex asked relieved.
"No," Matt said. "They were gone. Only the three we left outside were still there."
"I knew it!"
Every muscle in his body went rigid with anger at himself. He made a mistake when he let the men live. He had known better! He had hoped to take her to the hospital in Etowah, near his mom’s house, but when he looked down at her ashen face, he realized that now, it might be best that he didn’t. A gunshot victim would be all over the news. He saw it every day. Now that these men were free, they would know exactly where to find her, and with three of them dead, they would likely be out for revenge. Maybe he was paranoid, but he felt it was better to be safe. He would call his mom before he got there and ask her to have Dr. Carr come by.
This was an emergency.
When they arrived, his mom and Dr. Carr waited. Alex knew the doctor well. He was an old friend of the family and had practiced family medicine in Tellico Plains for many years. When Lydia slid down from the passenger side of the truck, his mother ran to her side. Until now, Alex had paid little attention to her appearance. She was covered in mud from head to toe and her feet were bloodied and bare. Her face and neck were swollen and bruised and her pajamas were dirty and torn.
A few moments passed before Alex untangled himself and slowly got out. He was unable to muster up his usual smile for his mom, and he felt grim and scared as he lifted the slight girl from the back seat and carried her straight to his room. She was pale, limp, and covered in blood, and Dr. Carr was immediately by her side.
"An infection is apparent judging by the fever," Dr. Carr said, "I’ll get some antibiotics started, and she’ll have to be evaluated for broken bones and soft tissue damage." He ran the handheld MRI across the entry wound. The small screen displayed the images in precise detail. "Just as I thought," he said. "The bullet went through clean, but her shoulder blade is broken."
"Will she be ok?" Alex asked, as he hovered behind the doctor.
"If we can get the fever down, then yes, and fortunately," Dr. Carr said, "it might not require surgery, but we’ll have to set and immobilize the shoulder."
"Is there something I can do?" Becky said.
"Yes," he said, "these bloody clothes need to come off, and you can help me clean and treat the wound."
"You and ... Matt out," his mom said to Alex and pointed to the door.
"But—"
"No Buts—out!"
Late in the day, when the shadows grew long, and Starr Mountain gulped down the last of the falling sun, the doctor packed up for the night.
"If her fever doesn’t break by morning," he said. "I left instructions on what to do. I’ll drop in again tomorrow."
"John, you’ve been so much help," Becky said. "How can we ever repay you?"
"Just make me some more of that apple pie the next time I come by, and we’ll call it even," Dr. Carr said and winked.
"It’s a deal," she said, as a blush crept up her cheek.
Alex raised an eyebrow and shot a questioning look her way, as Dr. Carr walked to his car.
"What?" she asked. "I’m not dead, you know."
He smiled and shrugged as he followed her back inside the cabin.
The evening wore on, and Alex stood in the doorway for hours, unmoving, his eyes never leaving the small young woman that slept in his bed. Immersed in an oversized nightgown, her tiny frame floated in a white cotton sea of buttons and eyelet lace. Alex had heard of fallen angels, but never believed—until now. Long after the dusk fell to full darkness, her fever started to break, but still, she slept.
This time, her dream was comforting. Something cool touched her head and she felt the softness of lips against her cheek. The whispered words "I love you" slipped softly into her ear.
The early dawn hours barely lit the room when she slowly began to rouse. Her right shoulder seared with a poker
hot burn. The pain stole her breath and her eyes cracked wide open. He was there next to her. The ladder back chair where he sat was pulled close to her side. Asleep, he leaned forward on the bed with his head on his arm. His face was toward her, and gripped tight in his right hand, was hers.
The confusion crept in as her eyes circled her surroundings. It was clearly a masculine room and she cringed at the large mounted boar head that hung on the opposite wall. Hunting equipment filled the room, and military boots, spit shined and buffed, stood like soldiers, in a neat row in the far corner. Navy blue curtains hung on the windows and a matching blue bedspread covered the bed. The room had a cabin-style interior with plank walls. The hardwood floors were like that of an old schoolhouse, they were rough-cut, not engineered or compressed. The feeling of warmth and comfort enveloped her and it felt like home.
Her eyes made it back around to the bed, and they rested, once again, on the man sleeping in the chair at her side. A snug blue tee shirt covered a frame of lean rippled muscles, as he leaned over the bed and slept. His dark blue jeans hung touching the floor, and curled under the heels of his white socked feet. He smelled of soap, as if straight out of the shower, but his face looked weary and strained. She closed her eyes again to try to put together the events that brought her here, but the memory just would not materialize. Frustrated, she blew out a loud sigh and opened her eyes again, and her gaze met with blue comfort.
"Where am I?"
He was alert in an instant. "Shhh, you’re somewhere safe," he whispered.
He held her hand tight, and pressed it to his lips. He did not want to wake up the others. He wanted to be here, with her, in the twilight of the room, alone. He touched his palm on the side of her face to check for a fever. She was cool to the touch. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and he stared into eyes as green and innocent as the new moss of spring. They were wide and full of questions that he would have to answer.
"We’re at my mom’s house," he said quietly, "in the mountains."
She shook her head and looked baffled, "I don’t understand … the mountains?"
He watched as she studied him closely.
"I know you. You’re—"
"Yes," he said, "Your own personal security."
"Your last name is Phillips?"
"You got it," he said and smiled down at her, "but you can call me Alex."
"Where’s Lydia?" Her eyes grew wide and she took hold of his arm, "Is Dad ok?"
He put his finger to his lips. "Lydia’s in the other room sleeping," he said quietly, "and your dad is fine. We’ll call him later."
"How did I get here? What happened?"
He could hear the panic rise as she spoke, and he rubbed her hand between the two of his to calm her. Like the early morning dew on a soft pink rose, the light sheen of moisture above her lip drew his eyes, and they lingered.
"I promise, I’ll explain later." He yanked his gaze away. "But for now, you’re safe and should rest."
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. He watched, while she slept for hours until finally, with reluctance, he left her side.
"She's awake?" Lydia asked as he came out of the room. "I can tell by that huge smile on your face."
"She woke up for a little while," he said, "but she went back to sleep." He began to whistle an upbeat tune and rummage around in the kitchen.
"Matt, I need to talk to her—girl-stuff," Lydia said. She tiptoed to the doorway. "Good." She looked at Alex and smiled, "All that racket you’re making woke her up."
He watched as she walked quietly into the room and gave her a hug.
"Don’t move. I know it hurts," Lydia said. "Holy crap—do I have some stuff to tell you." She grinned, leaned close, and looked around the room. "Oh, and you have to tell me who he is, and why he is freakishly in love with you."
"What are you talking about?" Grace asked.
Alex overheard her and grinned. I’m freakishly in love, he thought.
"Oh yeah," Matt said, interrupting his eavesdropping. "I'm taking Lydia to my parents’ house later. They have a spare room there so we won't be sleeping on top of each other here."
They both chuckled at his unintentional pun.
"Yeah, it is a little crowded," Alex said. "How long has it been since you’ve seen them?"
"It’s been awhile," Matt said, "Oh, and later in the week, Dad’s gonna drive us back to Chattanooga. I’ll call you and let you know what’s going on when we get there."
As the days passed, the first few were the hardest for Grace, but she never complained. Alex still knew. The nights were the worst, and when she thought no one heard, he could still hear her cry. Each evening, his worry would send him sneaking in, to sit in the dark while she slept.
A week flew by and her strength was returning. It was a beautiful day and he found her sitting on the porch in a rocker. She was relaxing with her face to the sun, eyes closed, while soaking in the warmth. He stood grinning in front of her with his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat and she opened her eyes.
"I think I have something you might like." He brought his hands from behind his back and held out a gray striped kitten. "He's yours." Alex smiled as he watched her eyes light up. His mom had given all of the others away but he wanted this one for Grace. The smile on her face was worth a lifetime of words.
She held the kitten close to her chest and rubbed her cheek against its tiny purring head. "This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten," she said. "Thank you!"
He held out his hand, "Let's go for a ride. We'll leave the kitten here with Mom for now." He could hardly wait to show her the second surprise he had waiting.
Black tar covered the old mountain road, and gravel chips were strewn across it to fill in the holes and to seal up the cracks—but it did not last. When the heavy rains came, it all washed away. The right edge of the road veered straight up the side of the mountain. Ledges of shale protruded in broken thin sheets, and hung over the road, like heaps of disheveled gray papers. The other side dropped away and vanished into a steep, leafy, ravine. The tops of white oaks and poplars peered up over the edge, leaving squirrels in their nests, in close view of the truck window.
"I feel like I can almost reach out and touch them," Grace said as she watched the young acrobats leap from limb to limb.
He took it slow and easy in fear of jarring her still-healing shoulder but the mile was quick to pass. In no time, the truck lumbered into a familiar parking lot.
"The lodge!" she said.
"Don’t move," he said as he got out. He walked around to her side and carefully lifted her down by her waist.
"How did you know?"
"Let's go for a walk." He took her hand and led her through a thick blooming wall of azaleas. Beyond the azaleas lay the flower filled-meadow, left unchanged for many years.
"The meadow," she said. "It’s been so long."
He watched her smile, as she let go of his hand, to turn in slow circles, and take in every ounce of the meadow’s beauty. Butterflies bounced gracefully between the blooming primrose and honeysuckle. Chipmunks scurried about, to hide their seeds and berries, and then scampered to search for more. Fond memories of the little girl he once met here, colored his world forever, from the palette of her tender spirit.
"Careful," he said from beside her. Like mystic jade stones, her wide eyes enchanted him, when her gaze looked up and met his. He reached down, picked a white clover flower, and twirled it between his fingers.
"Do you remember?" He gently brushed back her hair and placed the flower behind her ear.
"I remember," she said. "It is you. How could I ever forget? You saved my life."
The breathless sound of her voice weakened his resolve.
"I waited for you," she whispered.
"I know."
He raised his hands and cupped her face in his palms. "Grace …." he said but stopped short. I love you! he wanted to yell for the world to hear. Instead, he held tight to his words, like a bear on a leash
. She hardly knew him, and he was afraid his confession might scare her away.
Yet her eyes beckoned and drew him in. Like a fragile wall of crystal, his resistance came crashing down, and shattered around him. He leaned close and drank deep from the honey sweet taste of her lips. They were soft and warm and suddenly the earth felt as if it had slowed. The wind stood still, the birds fell silent, and all that remained was the sound of their beating hearts, and the touch of his lips to hers. The intensity grew as his mouth covered hers, and his hands trembled against her cheeks. Before he gave in to his raging desire, he dropped them away and gathered her close to his heart. She felt good in his arms, and he knew then—she had always belonged there.
Her cheek nuzzled softly against his chest and he felt her relax and sigh. The light scent of lilac sweetened the air, and he wanted to stay here with her in this meadow, forever. All was silent, other than the words of the whispering wind, but finally he spoke without releasing her.
"Are you ready to go?
Content, she settled closer. "Let’s stay," she said, "for just a little while longer."
Another week passed and he stood motionless at the window, gazing outside. The old two-seated wooden swing had hung in the big oak tree for many years. She leaned forward, and dangled a piece of yarn in the air, while the striped kitten jumped and pounced playfully about. The infectious sound of her laughter made him smile.
"You can't keep her here forever," his mother said quietly from behind him.
"I know," he responded without turning.
He was making excuses. She was not well enough to travel. The city was too dangerous. The truth was, Matt had called and told him that the military had the city stabilized, and it was now safe. Her shoulder was healing nicely and Dr. Carr had given her the green light to travel days ago. His mom was right. It was time to let her go.