Boone

by Emily March

  “He does.”

  “Caves have offered shelter to man and animal throughout the millennia. On the other hand, they also pose the risk of entrapment.” She paused significantly before adding, “There are all sorts of caves in this world, aren’t there?”

  Boone’s chair creaked as he settled back into it. He had the sense that this little tableau might just become a momentous occasion, one of the instances when Celeste Blessing shared a life-changing bit of wisdom.

  However, he also knew from friends who had been the recipients of Celeste’s wisdom that sometimes interpreting her advice could be tricky. “You’re speaking of something beyond rock formations, I assume?”

  “I am. It’s important that one not limit one’s perception of caves to being those made of fissures and breaks in stone. Caves can be shelters of one’s own making that offer protection from life storms that threaten survival. Necessary places that offer respite and protection. However, those same shelters can, over time, transform into deep, dark, cold places that no longer shelter, but entrap. Instead of offering protection, they prevent. They prevent one from seeing that the storm has passed. They hold one back from rejoining the world.”

  Boone stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. He laced his fingers atop his belly. He could follow this. “Are you saying that I’m burrowing in my cave, Celeste? That I’ve spent the past five years hiding in Eternity Springs, holed up licking my wounds?”

  “Honestly, no,” she replied, surprising him. “Give yourself some credit, Boone. I think you’ve spent the past five years healing.”

  That made him sit up straight.

  “You think so? After I blathered out my sob story tonight?”

  “I do. But being healed of spirit and being at peace are not the same thing. You won’t find peace until you face your ghosts. Enchanted Canyon is a good place to do that.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I hear you. I’ll head to Redemption first thing in the morning.”

  “Excellent.” Celeste rose from her chair and pinned him with a piercing look. “You found your light, Boone McBride. Once you face your ghosts in Enchanted Canyon, I believe you’ll be ready to live again, ready to risk your heart again.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears,” he murmured prayerfully.

  “Yes.” A twinkle flashed in her blue eyes. “Now one more thing before I go. It’s something for you to think about in the coming weeks and months. We spoke of caves, of caverns. Of dark places of the soul. You know them.”

  “I do,” he agreed, nodding.

  “What was the light that guided you from the darkness? Who and what lit your way? Think about it, Boone. Though your path was solitary, you were never alone.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. He and God hadn’t been on the best of terms the past few years. “It’s difficult to keep the faith when you’re drowning in grief.”

  “I’m not speaking to faith here, although I’d suggest that in times of grief, faith can be a true comfort. I’m referring to family and to friends. You have been blessed with the unflagging support of family and friends. Whether you called on them or not, as you sheltered from your life storm, your family and friends were a Zippo in your pocket.”

  Zippo? It took him a moment. “A lighter? Not a match?”

  “I’m a modern woman,” she said with a shrug and walked toward the door. When her hand was on the knob, she turned. Her voice held a new note of gravity as she said, “Not everyone has a Zippo. Remember what I say to you, Boone McBride. Be a Zippo. Be a light. That is how you will earn your wings. Be somebody’s light.”

  Chapter Two

  On the first Sunday in June inside a Colorado Welcome Center not far from the Nebraska border, Hannah Dupree stood before a trifold pamphlet rack and searched for a safe space. She could feel the storm approaching, the wildness beginning to hum inside her and gloom starting to descend. Most days, she managed to pummel it back, but tomorrow was, well, tomorrow.

  She picked up a cartoon tourist map. The drawing of what looked like a diving board made of rock and the words LOVER’S LEAP caught her notice.

  As she studied the map, a little laugh escaped her. One could take the road over Sinner’s Prayer Pass to pay a visit to Heartache Falls before taking a header off nearby Lover’s Leap to go splat in a town called Eternity Springs. Which had a resort called Angel’s Rest.

  “Sounds like my kind of place,” she murmured. Taking it as a sign from above, she purchased the map, plotted a digital route on her phone, and returned to the highway. She was a little over ten hours away. If she drove through the night, she’d be there for the dawn.

  Eternity Springs. It would be her safe space as she battled the demons waiting to pounce.

  By the time she found her way over Sinner’s Prayer Pass, she recognized that she should have picked someplace closer. Exhaustion tugged at her. She’d slept maybe four hours out of the last forty-eight. With any luck, she’d find her safe spot in Eternity Springs and sleep through this entire cursed day.

  It was still dark when she pulled off the road onto a scenic overlook. Below, pinpoints of glow from streetlights and signs added some illumination. For the most part, the valley remained cast in shadow. Hannah reached for the tourist map and reviewed the landmarks. Almost there, thank goodness. But where to go once she arrived?

  Hummingbird Lake. She should go to Hummingbird Lake.

  Hannah had a complicated relationship with lakes. She was drawn to them, found comfort from them. She could stand at the shore and not feel so alone. At the same time, she loved nothing better than to throw rocks and rage at them.

  The idea of Hummingbird Lake felt right. She’d go there. Decision made, she pulled back onto the road and began the descent into the valley via a series of switchbacks down the mountain. Hummingbird Lake. The name rolled off her tongue. She couldn’t wait to see it once daylight broke. Hummingbird Lake drew her. She’d find a place to sit beside its shore and fight her way through today.

  It might have happened, too, had not the next switchback revealed a scene right out of her nightmares. Strobing light bars. BLUE WHITE RED. BLUE WHITE RED. BLUE WHITE RED.

  Hannah slammed on her brakes. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel. Her breath came in shallow pants.

  Rap. Rap. Rap. Hannah all but jumped from her skin. Rap. Rap. Rap. “Ma’am?”

  The window. A man was tapping on her window with a flashlight.

  The deep voice continued, “Would you lower your window, please, ma’am?”

  A badge. He wore a badge.

  A little moan escaped her. She started rocking back and forth, back and forth, as she melted into the memories. BLUE WHITE RED. BLUE WHITE RED. Screaming. Someone is screaming. But it’s quiet. Too quiet. Deadly silent.

  White light shone at her face. “Ma’am, I’m Sheriff Zach Turner. Are you all right? You don’t look well. Let me help you. Will you step out of the car, please?”

  Her gaze locked on thick brown hair and kind blue eyes and the badge he held up to her window. One of Zoe’s doctors had been named Zach. He’d been good. Caring and kind.

  Hannah lifted her hand from the steering wheel and buzzed down the window. “I’m sorry, sir. I was a little blinded by the lights. There’s an accident?”

  “We have a rockslide up ahead.” He shined his light around the interior of her car and asked, “Are you all right, ma’am? Would you step out of the car, please?”

  He probably thinks I’m high on something. “Certainly.”

  “I’ll need your license and registration too.”

  Keeping her gaze turned away from the flashing emergency lights, she removed her license from her wallet and registration from the glove box, then opened the door and stepped out into the chilly night air. She handed him the cards, saying, “I haven’t been drinking, Officer. I’m not impaired. I’m just tired, although this cold air has shaken off the cobwebs. Do you want me to do a field sobriety test?”

  Without waiting
for his response, she lifted one foot off the ground and balanced. Muscle memory from years of yoga classes doing the work once again. “Want me to do the walk and turn?” she asked half a minute later.

  He gave her a grin and tipped his hat. “Not necessary. Just doing my job, ma’am. Now, let’s see how I can assist you. Where are you headed?”

  “Eternity Springs.”

  He nodded. “You’re in luck. It’ll be hours before we get this road cleared, but one of our landowners has opened up his private road. We can get you to town without too much of a detour. No more than half an hour.”

  “Good.”

  “We have a map.” He picked a clipboard up off the ground and slipped a square piece of paper from beneath the clip. Handing it to her, he said, “It’s a good road, well marked, follow the signs to Eagle’s Way. From there, he has a series of flashing arrows, state-of-the-art electronic signs that point your way to Eternity Springs. It’ll take you around the south end of the valley, and you can enter town from the west side. The speed limit is thirty-five, but I’ll ask you to take the curves slower than that. It’s a dark road.” He gave her a boyish smile and added, “Frankly, I don’t have the manpower for another accident tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Hannah climbed back into her car.

  The sheriff shut the door for her, then leaned down to speak through the lowered window. “Welcome to Eternity Springs, Ms. Dupree. Sorry for the delay. I’ll have one of my guys lead you to the private road. It’s a quarter mile back.”

  He turned his head and gave a whistle. A moment later, a car pulled up beside her, and the driver said, “This way, ma’am.”

  BLUE WHITE RED. BLUE WHITE RED. BLUE WHITE RED. She was supposed to follow the car? The colored lights? Hannah didn’t know if she could do it.

  With any luck, he’d lead her right off the mountain.

  “A quarter mile,” she murmured as she rolled up the window and shifted into drive. A quarter mile, that’s all. She could do this. Appropriate, in a way, with blue, white, and red leading her into the dark. Today, of all days, back into the dark.

  A hysterical little laugh escaped her.

  She made it, driving the quarter mile in a trancelike state, and when the lead car made a U-turn and waved her on, she kept going. She drove at a safe speed, her attention focused on the road, and yet she couldn’t free herself of damned blue, white, and red flashes. It didn’t help anything that after she reached Eagle’s Way, the arrows the sheriff had mentioned didn’t flash amber like one would expect from road signs. These flashed white.

  Hannah’s mind filled in the red and the blue.

  Finally, the private road intersected a state road. She slowed to a stop and checked the map the sheriff had given her. A right turn would take her to Eternity Springs. Left led to Lover’s Leap.

  She laughed aloud. Reaching into the backpack lying on the passenger seat, she felt around inside it for the tourist map. How did it go? Sinner’s Prayer Pass, then Heartache Falls. Lover’s Leap and … splat … Angel’s Rest. Her safe space.

  Hannah turned left. A few minutes later, she spied the sign for Lover’s Leap, where she turned into the parking area and parked her car. She once again perused the tourist map, decided that a visit to Heartache Falls would be redundant, then googled the time for sunrise. Eighteen minutes. Was this timing or what?

  She reached for a black fleece jacket in her backseat and pulled it on, and then grabbed her backpack and stepped outside. She walked to the picnic bench that her headlights had illuminated, sat on the table, and waited for dawn.

  “Get this party started,” she said toward the eastern sky. Get it started, so she could get it behind her.

  Now that she’d reached her spot, the energy that had fueled her trek across Colorado and masked her exhaustion began to seep away, leaving her weary to the bone. Weariness, in turn, weakened her defenses.

  Despair wrapped around her like a shroud of ice. Was this the moment? Would she finally be able to cry?

  Her gaze was locked on flashing lights across the valley. BLUE WHITE RED. BLUE WHITE RED. BLUE WHITE RED. It hypnotized her and carried her away into the past.

  Lost in memory and misery, she missed the sunrise. She didn’t see if the sky turned golden or pink or purple, but that was nothing new. Hannah hadn’t truly seen color for years now. Her world was fuzzy fizzles of black and gray, like the screen on her late great-grandmother’s black-and-white TV.

  When she came back to the moment, the sun was well above the eastern mountaintop. She could see that a four-foot-high rock wall provided a barrier between the picnic area and the rock that jutted out into space. It did look a little bit like a diving board, she decided. The tourist map had it right. Lover’s Leap. Now that the sun was up, Hannah could see how far below the valley floor lay. A long fall away.

  She wondered if there was a story behind the name. Lover’s Leap was a beautiful spot, peaceful and serene. It was the kind of place that made a woman feel small and insignificant. Her kind of place.

  Small. Insignificant.

  Lost. Lonely. Hurting.

  Tired. Oh, so tired. Weary to the bone.

  Maybe the time had come to try the next painkiller in the cabinet. The big one. The final one. Perhaps that’s why she’d noticed the tourist map. She’d run through all the ordinary painkillers. Booze and pills had numbed the pain for a time, but they certainly didn’t cure it.

  Was she ready for permanent? Finally? She’d considered it off and on for the past three years. Three years ago, today. The anniversary. Hence her need for a safe space.

  Hannah stepped over the wall.

  Her gaze wandered over the snowcapped mountains that ringed the valley before dropping to the town below where Victorian two-stories and cottages lined four wide avenues and a dozen or so cross streets. She spied numerous church spires, a sprawling school, and a large park complete with baseball diamonds and an elaborate playground. A handful of brick buildings lined one of the avenues forming what she surmised to be “downtown.” On the far side of the creek bordering the eastern edge of town sat a large, gingerbread-bedecked mansion surrounded by newer structures. Angel’s Rest, according to the map.

  The word that came to mind describing this little mountain town was quaint. “Eternity Springs,” she murmured, testing the name. It did roll off the tongue, didn’t it? “Angel’s Rest at Eternity Springs.”

  Hannah took a step closer to the edge. For the past three years, she’d been free to go anywhere, do anything, and be anyone. She’d bounced around from one place to another like a pinball off a bumper, not seeking, but fleeing. All she’d really wanted was to end the hurt. How else to explain some of the self-destructive choices she’d made?

  Painkillers. Lover’s Leap. Angel’s Rest. It was tempting. Oh, so tempting. Hannah needed a safe space away from the pain. A place to finally rest. She took another step forward.

  Vroom. Vroom. Vroom. Vroom. The sound of the motorcycle racing toward her froze Hannah in her tracks.

  * * *

  Boone was half a mountain away when he saw the woman step over the stone barrier wall at Lover’s Leap. “Foolish tourists,” he muttered and gave his Ducati the gas, increasing his speed. He had enough balls in the air this morning. He really didn’t want to deal with a careless hiker falling off the mountain to her death.

  It had been an eventful few days. Friday morning, he’d spent two hours on the phone with various officials and decision makers in Fort Worth and making arrangements for a charter flight to Austin. His cousin had picked him up at the airport, and they’d driven to the property they owned outside Redemption, Texas.

  Hiking and camping for two and a half days had been a good decision. He’d gone into Enchanted Canyon toting a pack and a ton of old ghosts. He’d come out of it Sunday afternoon with his decision made, and many of those ghosts laid to rest.

  Boone had flown back to Colorado last night, landing just before sunset at the private airstrip that Mac Timberlake
shared with Jack Davenport in the mountains above Eternity Springs. Mac had met the plane, and he’d invited Boone to dinner at his home near Heartache Falls.

  Boone might be a fool, but he wasn’t an idiot. No sane man passed up Ali Timberlake’s pasta alla carbonara. However, on the heels of the carb-laden meal, exhaustion had hit him like a cement truck. Rather than attempt the mountain roads in that condition, he’d accepted the Timberlakes’ invitation to spend the night.

  Boone had woken just before dawn to a pair of big brown eyes and a sloppy, slobbery kiss. The female bestowing her favors was a droopy-eared, red Irish setter named Beauty.

  Boone didn’t mind the dog’s friendly greeting. He’d long thought Beauty was one of the best dogs he’d ever encountered, so when Mac announced that she was expecting a litter of puppies, Boone had begged to be on the list of adopters. The four pups were six weeks old this week. Boone had chosen a male dog and planned to take him home next week after all the wedding guests cleared out. He’d told Mac he’d take the dog next Wednesday.

  This morning, he’d put that off. He was going to Fort Worth to pick up his new son that Wednesday.

  Whoa. The weight of the decision settled on Boone’s chest like a boulder.

  Be a light. Celeste’s advice from Thursday night had reverberated through his mind off and on all weekend, and it continued to do so as he descended the mountain this morning.

  Be a light. He’d been exploring a cave in Enchanted Canyon when he’d finally had enough clarity of thought to realize that she’d told him something important. Something profound. Celeste Blessing had given him a road map on how to finally earn his official Angel’s Rest blazon.

  Soon after moving to Eternity Springs and having declared it the place where broken hearts come to heal, Celeste had started the tradition of awarding the angel wing pendant to those who had “accepted love’s healing grace.” Almost all of Boone’s friends in town had earned theirs, and frankly, he was envious.

  Damn, but he wanted his wings.