Table of Contents
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
About the Author
Books Available from Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Grieving widow Lana Mills pulls American Michelle Devereaux from the raging floodwater of the Kennetcook River, and immediately becomes entangled in Michelle’s pursuit of a lost Acadian treasure. Following the clues from one historical Acadian settlement to the next, they search for a golden cross bequeathed to an Acadian priest by France’s King Louis XV.
But dangerous men are also on the hunt for the cross and for Michelle. Canadian Mountie Emily Stone has been patiently waiting for Lana to be open to the possibility of love once more, but perhaps she’s waited too long. Now she must find and help them before Lana not only loses her heart to Michelle and her obsession, but possibly her life as well.
Cross Purposes
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Cross Purposes
© 2016 By Gina L. Dartt. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-712-5
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: October 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Melody Pond
Acknowledgments
I have to acknowledge my betas, Pam and Jay, who read everything I throw out there, not just the stories about the characters they like, and do their best to give quality feedback on all my ideas. Also, my friends on the tennis courts, Norma, Cindy, and Sherrill, who always listen to my plots, even when they make no sense. And to my sister, Cathy, who patiently watched me walk around Grand-Pré as I figured out the logistics of trespassing on a national park. For the reader, please know that all the locations in this book actually exist, even if the geography is slightly altered here and there for dramatic purpose.
Dedication
To my sister and brother-in-law, Cathy and Doug, who are always there for me.
Chapter One
The wipers struggled to keep up with the rain pounding the windshield. Beneath her wheels, Lana could feel the powerful rush of water tugging insistently at her Jeep Wrangler, pushing it to the left. Exhaling in relief as she finally reached the other side of the small bridge, she carefully navigated the corner leading up the Kent Hill Road. A glance in the rearview mirror showed even more chunks of ice choking this side of the bridge, forcing the water across the pavement. In another twenty minutes, she suspected even a four-wheel drive wouldn’t be able to traverse the flooded section safely.
This is going to be such a pain in the ass, she decided glumly as she followed the road rising along the riverbank. Every year, there was a warm spell in February, a sort of annual joke played on Nova Scotia by Mother Nature for a couple of weeks before she imposed winter once more. In good years, people would go outside to bask in the warm sunshine and fool themselves into thinking that perhaps, this year, spring would come early. In bad years, when there had been a lot of snow and ice over the previous two months, and the warm spell came in the form of constant rain rather than sunshine, people didn’t bother fooling themselves. Instead, they started hoping for cold temperatures again before the ice broke up, clogging narrow passages, while snow melt from the surrounding forests and fields filled the many brooks, streams, and rivers, overflowing the banks and causing widespread flooding.
Obviously, this was going to be a bad year. Forecasts were calling for a lot more rain over the next few days as the ice continued to shift in the swollen tributary. The bridge at the bottom of the hill was the quickest way into the small village of Kennetcook from the north. A small co-op, garage, diner, and post office made up the four corners of the tiny crossroads, providing the people in this part of the county with most, if not all their necessities. People on that side of the river would be fine if the bridge was submerged beyond safe passage, but those on Lana’s side were looking at an hour’s drive in the other direction to the nearest town that, though a lot larger than Kennetcook, was terribly out of the way. And that was assuming there were no more flooded areas between here and there. If that happened, then it could take two or more hours of navigating the various back roads to reach a town of any size.
Lana remembered a February ten years earlier when the bridge had not just flooded over, but had been utterly destroyed. It had taken a month for the Department of Highways to replace it, and she had discovered just how much she relied on Kennetcook for the little things that made life bearable.
Well, with any luck, she thought philosophically, the bridge will hold. In the meantime, her quick trip to the store meant she was well stocked up on groceries if she was cut off for a few days. After that, if she had to travel all the way to Windsor to pick up her milk, bread, and Xtra Brownie ice cream, then she supposed she could survive it. She always had the option of moving closer to a larger town, but then she’d have to give up the log cabin. Long summer evenings relaxing on the porch as she watched the placid waters flow by easily made up for those few winter days when the river became an engorged, soaked beast frantically trying to escape the confines of its willow-lined banks.
Glancing out her side window toward the rampant torrent of ice and water rushing several meters below the hill, she abruptly put on her brakes, the Jeep skidding to a stop.
At first she wasn’t quite sure what had caused such a reflex. With the sound of the wipers squeaking loudly in her ears, she squinted through the darkness and pouring rain. It took a moment before a stray glint on metal let her know something was down on the riverbank. Something that hadn’t been there when she’d driven past earlier on her way into the village. Only long familiarity with the road and river had prompted her to notice it. Otherwise, the current conditions would have concealed it completely.
After shifting her vehicle into park, she leaned over and fumbled in the glove compartment for a flashlight. It would probably turn out to be nothing, she decided grumpily, but if someone had actually gone off the road, then they were mo
st likely in trouble. The bank was steep, rising to the road for about ten meters, with only a few small spruce trees and some alder bushes preventing a slide into the raging water below.
Cursing a bit under her breath, Lana climbed out of her Jeep and turned on the flashlight. After she reached the edge of the road, she shone it down the slope, the shrunken and drenched snowbanks reflecting white among the dark slashes of winter-ravaged vegetation and mud. She started as her thin beam of light flashed over a shape in the darkness. Quickly she brought it back to reveal a crumpled bumper emblazoned by a green-and-white Enterprise sticker.
What the hell is a rental car doing way out here? she wondered in amazement. Even during tourist season, this road wasn’t exactly on the way to anywhere. Eventually it led to Windsor, of course, but there were easier, more picturesque routes through the Rawdon Hills. And frankly, in February, it was all rather bleak at best and downright desolate at worst.
“Hello, is anyone there?” she shouted.
She could feel the icy trickle of water go down the back of her neck beneath the collar of her winter jacket as she waited for an answer, the wind driving pellets of freezing rain into her face. She bent her head, lowering the brim of her baseball cap against the onslaught, and called out again.
“Hey there, is anyone in the car?”
Was she going to have to go down there? She stared uneasily at the steep gradient falling away beneath her. Suddenly, she heard a squishy sound, a tearing away of mud and turf as the car slid forward a little, held back only by the fragile and uncertain strength of some alder bushes. That was when she heard the scream, rising thin and faint above the roaring rush of wind and water.
“Shit!”
Dashing back to the Jeep, she flipped open the rear hatch and shoved aside bags of groceries to get at the nylon rope she kept there in her emergency kit. A headlamp she exchanged for the small flashlight gleamed weakly when she switched it on, indicating she should have been more conscientious about changing the batteries. Hastily, she tied one end of the rope to the bumper and yanked on it sharply to make sure it was secure before she started down the bank.
“Hang on!” she yelled as she scrambled through the wet mire of snow and mud. “I’m coming!”
Wondering why she didn’t feel more scared, she decided it was just the heat of the moment. Afterward, she’d be terrified, assuming she didn’t go arse over teakettle into the river, eventually ending up as a decomposing Popsicle in the Bay of Fundy.
As she descended, she could see the snow churned up around the driver’s door. Obviously, someone had tried to get out earlier but made little headway up the slippery slope. Just then, the car slid forward again and the interior light flashed on as the door opened. Whoever was inside was bailing, deciding to take their chances on the bank and rain rather than end up in the river. A shapeless form landed in a heap on the ground.
“I’m almost to you!” she shouted again, and this time she could see the pale circle of a face turned upward in her direction. She found precarious purchase among icy rocks as she moved as rapidly as she could toward the kneeling form. Tree branches snapped and metal creaked as the car abruptly resumed its interrupted course to the river. A large splash erupted just as Lana reached the woman, grabbing her around the waist as she began to slide after the car.
“Hey, I got you.”
Sea-green eyes swam up into Lana’s startled gaze, framed by long reddish hair and offering a look that combined entreaty and annoyance. “Damn it, I don’t think they’ll be giving me my deposit back.”
Pure honeysuckle laced the tone, straight from the American South and completely out of place in the Maritimes. Startled, Lana laughed. “Probably not,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Wet and cold, but at least I’m not in the water.”
They both looked down to see the dark form of the car list to the right and start to float down the river, the torrent powerful enough to move even its bulk.
“Come on, let’s get back up to the road.”
The woman clung tightly to Lana as they began the difficult ascent. Lana noted that she was wearing stylish high-heeled shoes, completely inappropriate for stumping about anywhere other than on the flattest surfaces. Her clothing wasn’t particularly suitable for the weather either, a sheer blouse and trousers beneath a thin trench coat, soaked through and covered with mud. Lana could feel her shiver convulsively against her side as she continued to cling to a large briefcase. It made their movements up the slope even more awkward, but she showed no inclination of letting it go, and Lana didn’t complain. After all, it was undoubtedly everything the poor woman had managed to recover from the car. The rest of her luggage was probably in the trunk.
“I’m Lana,” she panted as they climbed. “Lana Mills.”
“Michelle Devereaux. So nice to meet you. Too bad it’s not under different circumstances.” The woman’s tone was deeply ironic and Lana laughed again, impressed by her spirit in such difficult conditions.
Finally, they reached the summit and clambered onto the side of the road, slipping a bit on the ice that had formed as the temperature continued to drop. Lana was glad she’d left the engine running and turned the heat up to full once they were inside. Shifting into drive, she glanced over at the woman huddled in the passenger seat. Michelle was small and slender and, now that she was safe, starting to shake like a willow in the wind.
“It’s an hour to the nearest town,” Lana explained as she pulled onto the road again. “We’ll never make it back down to Kennetcook, and there’s no place to stay there anyway. My house is just up the road a bit. We’ll get you some dry clothes and some tea.”
“Sounds perfect,” Michelle managed between chattering teeth. She hugged her briefcase close to her body, as if afraid to set it down, and Lana wondered if shock was setting in.
“Not long now,” she promised in an attempt to reassure her. “I’m just at the top of the hill.”
She pulled into her driveway and navigated the short slope that was becoming icier by the minute. She had a small, detached garage at the top used for storage, leaving no room for her Jeep. She regretted that fact as she stepped out into the driving rain now mixed with ice pellets. The motion light at the corner of her cabin barely illuminated the yard, and she was surprised to see her hand shake as she unlocked the back door. Probably a reaction to her little adventure, she thought. It was good to know she wasn’t completely dead inside after all.
Flipping on the lights, she drew Michelle into the kitchen where it was warm and dry. She dropped her keys on the island counter, then continued past it, down the hall to the bathroom, where she turned on the faucet in the tub. After finding some towels, she left them on the back of the toilet before returning to the kitchen where Michelle waited, an uncertain expression on her face as she clutched her briefcase to her chest.
“I’ve started the tub,” Lana told her. “While you get warmed up, I’ll find you something to wear.”
Michelle looked relieved. “Thank you.”
Once Michelle disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, Lana trotted back out to the Jeep to retrieve her groceries. She quickly put away the frozen items, then left the rest and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Changing out of her damp clothes, she pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before gathering up the same, along with some hiking socks. Michelle was smaller than she was, so she didn’t have much chance of finding anything that would fit well, but warmth was more important than style anyway. She hesitated over her underwear drawer, wondering if Michelle was more inclined to the naughtier silk-and-lace garments or the simple matronly cotton panties.
Suddenly, as if in response to the provocative thought, the lights went out, leaving Lana in total darkness.
Chapter Two
Michelle eased into the water with a sigh of mingled relief and pleasure. She still felt like a block of ice from her fruitless attempts to scale the slope on her own, and the soothing heat was just what her
aching muscles needed. Though the cabin looked quite rustic on the outside, made of real logs no less, the interior was a charming mixture of modern and country. Thankfully, Lana apparently enjoyed her creature comforts, even out here in the middle of nowhere, with high-end, top-of-the-line appliances, electronics, décor, and furnishings that were clearly expensive to Michelle’s discerning eye.
And while it was the middle of nowhere as far as Michelle was concerned, her plan of sticking to the back roads hadn’t protected her. She was just surprised Lana hadn’t asked her how her accident had happened. Michelle supposed that was a topic for later conversation and she’d worry about it then. For now, she was content to lean back and let the steamy heat chase away the last of her chill. She was surprised when everything shut down a few minutes later, leaving her blinking blindly in the blackness.
“Don’t worry,” she heard from beyond the doorway a minute later. “It’s just a power failure. Should have expected it, really, considering the weather. Are you all right?”
Michelle was tickled with Lana’s Maritime accent, the elongated “o” in the “worry” and the way “all right” came out as “aahl right.” She really was here, finally, in the land of her forebearers. Would she be speaking in a similar way by the time she left?
“I’m great,” Michelle called back. “Still in the tub.”
“I have some clothes and a candle. May I come in?”
“Please.”
The candle threw wild shadows as Lana entered, a bundle of clothing tucked under her arm. She placed the candle on the sink counter and the clothes on the closed lid of the toilet, eyeing the briefcase resting on the closed bowl. “I don’t have much to offer, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. Thank you.”
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