He hiked a brow, managed a small smile. “Low blow.”
“Dammit, Samuel, I’m not kidding. You are going to get well, do you hear me? If you don’t, I’ll...I’ll sing to you. Yes, yes I will, I’ll sing so loud and so long that you’ll leap out of that bed for no other reason than to shut me up.”
A puff of air slid from his lips as he closed his eyes. “Take ’Loo.”
Startled, Ellie released his hand. “What?”
“When you leave. Take ’Loo. Please.”
Reality hit like a sledge. That lazy old hound dog meant the world to Samuel. From the day Samuel had chosen the animal from the litter of scampering tenweek-old pups, Baloo had been his constant companion. Nothing had separated them. Nothing could.
Nothing except—
Ellie stood, jammed her hands on her hips. “I’m not taking your dog, Samuel, so you’re just going to have to get better so you can care for him yourself.”
“Protection.”
“Protection?” Ellie stared at the lazy, saggy-eyed hound and didn’t know whether to laugh or weep wildly. “Are we talking about the same animal that hid under the bed sniveling because there was badger on the porch?”
But Samuel didn’t respond. He was asleep.
A sudden chill raised the flesh of her arms. She rubbed herself, wandered toward the cradle where Daniel was just awakening for lunch. “Don’t worry, precious boy,” she murmured, lifting him into her arms. “Mommy won’t let anything bad happen to you, and she won’t let anything bad happen to Samuel, either.”
Daniel gurgled, gave her a trusting grin.
Ellie’s heart sank. In the course of her life she’d made many promises, broken most of them. She’d never taken responsibility for not keeping her word, because she’d always had perfectly good reasons for not having done so. Flexibility was the key to survival. If situations change, one has to change with them.
Ellie’s mother hadn’t understood that, and had spent a lifetime of misery because of a promise, a wedding vow that she’d refused to break no matter how intolerable the marriage had become, or how incompatible its participants. Ellie had been determined never to let promises destroy her life. She always took on friendships, jobs and relationships with the highest of hopes, but if things changed, she was out of there. No fighting. No confrontation. No guilt, no emotion, just the flexibility to recognize one’s error and move on.
So she’d always told herself, convinced herself that life was a gift to be experienced and enjoyed. But Ellie hadn’t been experiencing life, she’d been avoiding it—avoiding the pain, the angst, the emotional commitments, avoiding all that was precious, all that made life unique.
She considered that as she settled onto the sofa to breast-feed her baby. There was a decision to make, a decision over life and death and the future of her beloved child. “Your father isn’t a nice man, Daniel.” Speaking aloud helped organize her thoughts. “But he wants you very much, and I know that he’d never do anything to hurt you.” Daniel, who was more interested in a meal than a discussion, suckled happily.
Ellie smiled down at her baby, wondered if she could survive without him. She doubted it. Daniel was the light of her universe; Samuel, however, was its emotional core.
She loved them both. How could she choose?
It would take hours for her to drive to the nearest phone and more hours before help could be sent. It was only an hour’s hike to the fire tower. By the time she returned, help would be on the way. If she left now, as Samuel had asked her to do, she and Daniel would be safe, but the man she loved could die. If she stayed, Samuel would live, but she could lose her son forever.
The decision circled like an impatient vulture, pecked her heart out.
Save her lover. Lose her child.
Long after Daniel had fallen asleep against her breast, Ellie was still fighting the vulture, still shielding her heart. In the end, the decision swooped on wings too formidable to ignore.
Hugging her sleeping son’s warm body, she nuzzled his scalp, and gently tucked him into his cradle. He’d sleep for at least two hours now. She went to the kitchen, saw the firetower key in the drawer.
There was only one choice, only one. Ellie made it.
Chapter Twelve
A raw wind buffeted Samuel’s face as he twisted over the ravine. Below him, the mangled wreck of a vehicle creaked and yawed. Each cry for help rose up weaker than the last. There wasn’t much time.
Samuel’s fingers clutched the harness hook. If he released it, perhaps he could rescue the trapped victim.
Perhaps he’d become a victim himself, the instrument of death for one of his colleagues.
The voice from below haunted him. It was a familiar voice, one he recalled from his childhood.
Drake. It was Drake. Trapped in that wreck.
Samuel frantically yanked at his harness. The lock froze, refused to release. He dangled helpless, unable to reach the man who’d been like a brother to him, the man who had destroyed his own career to save Samuel’s life.
A guttural cry rose from his own throat. He clawed at the harness, bucked madly in midair. He had to free himself, had to save Drake.
Blood pounded past his ears. A rhythmic rush, like a heartbeat. Like a whirling blade. Chucka-chucka-chucka. Like a helicopter.
Squinting into the distance, Samuel saw the teardrop silhouette move out of the clouds. A rescue chopper with the life-cable dangling beneath its belly. A figure was harnessed to the cable, a figure signaling the pilot to move closer to the wreck. Closer. Closer.
So close Samuel could see the face of the man strapped to the life hook, a man with tousled hair and lake blue eyes. It was his own face.
He watched himself being lowered to the wreck, grasping the arm extending from the vehicle’s shattered windshield. He watched himself struggle to extricate the victim.
Chucka-chucka-chucka.
He moaned as a brilliant ray of sun blinded him, heating his skin, boiling his blood.
Chucka-chucka-chucka.
A baby fussed in the distance. Daniel...was it Daniel?
Chucka-chucka-chucka.
Samuel moaned, thrashed. His eyes flew open. He wasn’t dangling from a rescue cable. He was in the cabin. In bed.
Chucka-chucka-chucka.
But the sound was real, the helicopter was real. It moved closer, closer. Closer. The vibration shook him, surrounded him.
Rubbing his eyes, he heaved a tortured breath, rolled his head and saw Ellie standing by the living room window. She was wearing her bright rayon jacket and holding Daniel in her arms, staring outside with a gaze both sad and noble, her lips loosely resigned.
Chucka-chucka-chucka.
Pine needles slapped the window, blown by a sudden vortex of wind. The helicopter had landed. In the clearing. By the cabin.
In the space of a single, agonized heartbeat, the haze lifted from Samuel’s mind. He realized what Ellie had done, understood the sacrifice she had made for him. And his heart wept.
The deputy was tall as a sequoia and just as rigid. He tipped the brim of his tan flight cap, gazed through oval aviator glasses with reflective lenses. The patch on one sleeve of his sharply creased uniform presumably announced the law enforcement agency to which he was aligned, but any detail beyond his imposing stature was not likely to be noticed. A stern, authoritative tone completed the impressive image. “Eleanor Elizabeth Malone?”
Staring at her mirrored reflection in the sunglasses, Ellie was mildly amused by the rebellious tilt of her chin, the boldness of her gaze. She looked like a cornered cat—back curved, hair raised in defiance even as its pupils dilated in terror. Not trusting her voice, she hiked her chin another notch and nodded.
The reflective gaze dipped to the infant in her arms. “A lot of people are looking for you.” When Ellie made no comment, the man shifted. “I’m Deputy Shaeffer, ma’am. I’ll have to ask you to come with us.”
“Am I under arrest?”
Instead of replying, he gazed past
her to the front porch, where paramedics were rolling the gurney out of the cabin. Baloo followed, yelping, circling in bewilderment as strange men wheeled his beloved master toward the waiting chopper.
Shifting Daniel in her arms, Ellie moved quickly across the thin snow crust. “Samuel? Samuel—”
Neither of the attendants glanced up or slowed their progress. When the gurney wheels caught on the slush, the men lifted it without missing a beat, hustled past Ellie without the slightest indication that they’d seen her. She would have followed but for the hand clamped on her shoulder.
Ellie jerked to a stop, hugged Daniel to her breast and watched as the gurney was loaded into the helicopter’s open side door. “Will he be all right?”
“The medics are doing everything they can,” the deputy replied.
Of course they were. Samuel was one of their own.
He took hold of her elbow. “We should go now.”
She automatically tightened her grip on her son. “There’s a navy blue backpack and a duffel inside the cabin, by the front door. Would you get them for me? My baby’s things...” Her voice broke, the ground swayed. She bit her lip, locked her knees to keep them from buckling.
Deputy Shaeffer wavered, seeming afraid to release her lest she bolt into the woods. He glanced at the surrounding forest, then at the helicopter with its blades spinning and the frantic hound trying to leap into the exposed belly through an open door too high to reach.
Finally the pressure on her elbow dissipated. “All right,” the man said quietly. He cast a final furtive glance, then disappeared into the cabin.
The forest beckoned. Ellie gazed at the concealing trees, inhaled the woodsy perfume, imprinted the scent and the sound and the sight of this precious haven that was safe no more.
These weeks, these precious months had been magnificent, but it was over now. All that mattered was Samuel. He would be all right. He had to be. Ellie refused to consider the alternative.
She took a final, bracing breath, then walked bravely toward the waiting chopper, shifting Daniel to the crook of her arm and using her free hand to retrieve Baloo’s leash from her jacket pocket. The frantic animal dived toward her when she called, tail wagging wildly as she knelt to snap the leash on his collar. “It’s okay, boy,” she soothed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Baloo whined as if he knew better.
“We can’t take the dog.”
Ellie stood, spun around as the deputy marched toward them carrying her stuffed backpack and an old duffel she’d found in the loft. She squared her shoulders. “If Baloo doesn’t go, I don’t go.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I’m under orders to escort you back to Sacramento.” Apparently taking umbrage to his sternness, Baloo bared his teeth with a snarl, forcing the deputy to step back and gentle his voice. “We’ll send someone back for him.”
“Before or after he starves to death?” Clenching the leash in her fist, Ellie stared at the furious woman reflected in the man’s sunglasses. “Just contact Fire Station 12. I’m not sure which district it’s in, but Samuel has friends there. One of them will pick Baloo up at the airport and care for him until Samuel is well.”
“There’s no room in the chopper.”
She scanned the big fellow up and down. “You take up more than your share.”
“Now see hete—”
“No, you see here.” Ellie interrupted with ice in her voice and fire in her eye. “We’re not talking about some ordinary, run-of-the-mill house pet, although even if we were, I think your attitude stinks. The point remains that this particular animal is a legend around here because he has saved more lives than you could count without taking your shiny boots off. Now, do you really want the thankless task of explaining to public officials how there wasn’t enough room in your precious little chopper for the most decorated animal in the state’s canine rescue unit?”
Finishing her exaggerated spiel with a flourish, Ellie mustered an indignant glare and was rewarded by a flustered stain crawling up the big man’s throat.
An amused chuckle from the cockpit signaled the battle had been lost. The deputy knew it. Heaving a resigned sigh, he flung Ellie’s bags into the cargo hold.
When the chopper lifted off ten minutes later, Deputy Shaeffer scowled from the rear jump seat holding the heroic hound on his lap.
Voices circled his head, buzzed like annoying gnats. He knew he was in a rescue chopper. He knew the medics were tending him, recognized whispered vital signs that were being checked and rechecked every few minutes. Heartbeat. Pulse rate. Blood pressure. Rising, falling, stable. All duly noted.
Something pinched his arm. Stung. An IV needle. Fluid drip. Saline.
Beeps. Familiar beeps. Monitor. Portable EKG.
Chucka-chucka-chucka. Helicopter blades.
Over the din, a baby fussed. Daniel. Daniel was here on the helicopter. Ellie must be here, too. They were taking her back, taking them back. To him.
To him.
Beep, beep, beep, beep... “Pulse erratic, blood pressure’s up.” A flurry of activity, the chill of smooth metal against his bare chest. Strained voices, orders issued.
A jarring bump followed by more activity, more orders. The chopper had landed. The belly door rumbled open. Night air swept in, dark, sweet, cool. The gurney was moving, bumping, jumping, gliding in air, rolling on asphalt. He had to stop it.
Had to stop—“Ellie.” A croaked whisper, his own. He raised a hand, clutched the closest object, which happened to be a masculine forearm. “Got to—” a coughing spasm cut him off.
The annoying voices took on an urgent tone. In the distance, a dog was barking. Baloo. Where was Baloo? Where was Ellie?
Samuel fell back, wheezing. Ellie. His mind screamed; his voice was momentarily useless.
A cool palm touched his brow, soft. Fragrant. “I’m here, Samuel. Baloo is okay. A friend of yours is here to take care of him.”
A friend? Samuel had no friends, not anymore. He forced his eyes open, saw her blurred image, again realized the sacrifice she’d made for him and was overcome by emotion. “Shouldn’t have...” was all he could say.
“I had to, Samuel, I had to. Any other way would have taken too much time. I couldn’t leave you alone that long, I couldn’t risk losing you.”
Two fuzzy figures loomed beside her. Men in suits, Samuel thought. One spoke. “Ms. Malone, come with us, please.”
“No!” The word burst from him with astounding force. He reached out, clung to the hem of her jacket. “No.”
Still cradling her blanket-wrapped son in the crook of one arm, Ellie bent close enough for him to see tears glistening in her eyes. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “You’ll be fine, Samuel. They’re going to take good care of you.”
“Don’t...go.”
The tears slid down her cheek. “I have to.”
“Ellie—” But she was moving away, flanked by the men in suits who ushered her toward a dark sedan parked at the edge of the tarmac. Samuel struggled to raise his head, struggled to reach out a hand.
She turned, extended her free hand as if trying to touch him. The distance was too great. “I love you,” she whispered.
He mouthed the words, “I know.”
Then she and Daniel were hustled into the big, dark sedan and disappeared into the night.
Ellie stared straight ahead, gazing absently over the front seat headrests, past the driver, through the tinted windshield as familiar landmarks blurred by.
The back seat was heavy with silence, thick with the scent of tailored wool and expensive cologne. Slick money, she thought, and wondered if they were politicians or lawyers, or both. Stanton was well connected with the former, and surrounded himself with the latter. Either way, there was nothing she could do to save herself.
But Daniel would be all right. No matter what happened, Ellie knew that Stanton would care for his son, would supply every material necessity and luxury that she could never realistically expect to provid
e.
Yes, Daniel would have a good home, a home in which he’d be loved and nurtured and cherished. Despite Stanton’s many faults, he was a man who desperately wanted children. Ellie had no doubt that he would try to be a good father to Daniel. She prayed he would succeed.
The sedan slowed, paused at the entrance to the exclusive gated community where the Mackenzie home was located. The driver slid a plastic key into the slotted card reader. The gate yawned open, the sedan hummed through.
Manicured streets, shaded by dozens of mature trees. Clean sidewalks. Mansion-size houses. A good place to raise children.
The thought gave her little solace. Her chest felt hollow, empty, as if her heart had been surgically removed. She squeezed her son to her breast so tightly that he squirmed in protest. Fear clawed inside her throat. She knew where they were taking her, and she knew why.
The sedan rolled into a massive driveway, hummed to a stop. A porch light flickered on, illuminating a huge entrance dripping with baskets of blooming flowers. Beneath a crescent of arched glass, oversize double doors opened slowly. A woman stepped out with perfectly coiffered blond hair, wearing an extravagant hostess gown. Jewels twinkled at her throat, dripped from her ears. A perfect picture of extravagance and sophistication.
Marjorie Mackenzie, beautiful, sophisticated, wealthy and barren. Marjorie Mackenzie, who wanted a child so desperately that she was willing to overlook her husband’s faults and infidelities, to use all of her family’s wealth and power, to do anything and everything, even if it meant ripping a baby from its mother’s arms.
There was no doubt in Ellie’s mind as to why she’d been brought here tonight. The Mackenzies had the law on their side. They were going to take her son away now. There was nothing she could do to stop them.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
It was driving him crazy.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He couldn’t think.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He had to clear his mind. The emergency room staff had aspirated his lungs so he could breathe easier, and rehydrated him with fluids so he felt stronger, but his mind was still a muddle. Samuel was desperate to think, to figure a way to save Ellie and Daniel from Mackenzie’s Machiavellian clutches.
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