She screamed, breaking the silence of the forest wrapping around them.
“Vicki!” He yelled her name, terrified he was too late. Had the cat already pounced and come back in for the kill? He tossed the cat corpse away from him, its head lolling to one side, throat slit open and spilling dark blood all over the mossy underbrush. Sheathing his bloody knife, he reached out a hand towards her. “Are you okay?”
Vicki opened her eyes, and Ambrose breathed a sigh of relief. Besides the spray of blood, it didn’t look like she was harmed.
She slapped his hand away and shook her head, pointing to a branch where her leg was twisted at an odd angle, trapped in the underbrush. He reached down to help her.
“I can do it myself!” She nearly yelled in his face.
“Goddamn it, woman, take my hand! You’re in no position to be so independent!”
“I’ll show you independent! I—” She pulled at her ankle, moaning in agony, but it was clear the branch was firmly hooked into the thick underbrush.
He ignored her pushing him away and reached down and ripped the small branch out of the ground. He knew he was strong, but even this feat amazed him. He didn’t know he could tear wood from the forest floor.
She gaped at him and they exchanged a look of many words unsaid. He offered his hand again, and this time, she took it. Gingerly she stood, her injured leg hovering over the ground.
“What…” She started, but her eyes fluttered shut and she fainted, slumping right into him
Ambrose caught her, but with his injured arm it was almost too much. With one heave, he threw her over his shoulder, and trudged out of the forest carrying her, until they reached the clearing and the smoldering embers of their fire.
He sat her down on the blanket and turned to reach for the stack of firewood he had dumped in the clearing just before he had heard the roar of the large cat. He took a deep breath as he stacked the wood, careful not to let her see how out of control he was. Why in the world had he sprung to action like that? Less than a week ago, he was thinking of abandoning her and leaving her to her own devices. Then, the bullet had ripped through his shoulder. She saved his life, and he owed her everything. Now, he knew he had to save her, but he wasn’t sure why.
No, he thought, I do know why. I’m falling in love with her.
It was killing him to be so mean to her. His father would have been disappointed to see him treat anyone in such a manner. But after the hike today, after watching her laugh in wonder even though their lives were at stake… well, he didn’t know what he felt. In the last two days, the soft looks she had given him had told him all he needed to know, and he didn’t want it to happen.
It couldn’t happen.
She was stubborn, hard headed, with a mean streak that blindsided him at the worst moments. He didn’t have a choice. Maybe by being mean she wouldn’t become attached. She was leaving, after all, once they found civilization again. Despite all this, he knew he had never felt like this about anyone, not even her. He hadn’t thought of her much when he was with Vicki, even though she had been on his mind for the better part of four years.
Vicki stirred, struggling to sit up. “What happened?” She looked at Ambrose. “My ankle…”
“Can you stand?”
“I… maybe.”
He helped her up, and though she winced when she put pressure on her foot, she tried to smile. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
“I’ll get the first aid kit, we can wrap it, so you can still walk.” He helped her sit on the fallen log, the fire slowly dwindling behind them, and rummaged in the bag to their left, producing the tan wrap from the red first aid kit.
He expected her to protest, but instead she sat calmly and quietly as he removed her boot and sock. Her ankle was already swollen, but not purple or bruised, and he knew she hadn’t done much damage. A good thing, too, he thought. If they couldn’t walk out of here, they didn’t have much of a chance.
“Thank you,” she said softly, as he helped her boot back on. She reached out and touched his hand softly, and then as if she suddenly realized her mistake, pulled her hand away.
He looked up at her from his vantage on the ground. God help him, he was falling hard and fast, and he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t even know if Vicki felt the same, or if he even wanted her to. Worst of all, he would kiss her again in a heartbeat. Instead, he turned and crouched next to the fire, coaxing it to life.
“There’s a little stream down by the forest edge,” he muttered. “It’s not much, but it would get the blood off.”
Vicki rubbed a hand over her face and looked down, horrified. “Help me up.”
He threw her arm around his shoulder and helped her hobble down to the stream. She knelt in front of the little creek, only a couple feet wide, but flowing. She splashed the freezing water on her face. Then he helped her up and they wobbled slowly back to the fire.
They both sat in silence, leaning on the log, staring into the fire, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Her name was Marissa.” Ambrose broke the silence first. He gritted his teeth as the pain ripped through his shoulder and across the front of his shirt. He felt wetness there but didn’t want to alarm Vicki. Damn it, he thought, rescuing her had come at a great cost. The pain was nearly unbearable, and he prayed he hadn’t ripped the carefully laid stitches. He stood and poked at the fire, stirring it back to life.
“Your girl, back home?” Vicki responded quietly, her voice strained and exhausted.
The fire sparked to life and he sat next to her. She was hugging her knees to her chest as she looked at him.
“She’s gone.” He clenched his teeth to ward away the pain.
“Like…” She trailed off, but he knew what she meant.
Ambrose shook his head. “Not dead, just gone. She never wanted to stay in Samoa. She always wanted to travel. I always promised her I would, but, life just got in the way.”
“What happened?”
“Like you, I didn’t want what my father did. I didn’t want college. Originally, I wanted to be an accountant.”
Vicki stifled a smile. “Really?”
He laughed a little and shook his head. “Yes, really. I wanted to take over the family business. Banking,” he smiled sadly. “I always had a head for numbers.”
“What happened?”
“The day before we were supposed to be married, she left me a note saying she’d found a young, handsome American man and he’d agreed to take her to the States.” He paused and took a deep breath. He could still feel the anger as he crumpled up her letter, knowing he’d have to face the embarrassment and shame to tell his family of the broken engagement. “Back then I didn’t even know how to handle it. I thought we were in love; we had been inseparable since we were small children, and our union only made sense. Our parents blessed it and everything.”
“Oh, Ambrose. I’m so sorry.”
“That was four years ago,” he finished. “I decided if she could leave, so could I. My father agreed and helped me look for a college where I could learn to be a pilot. Portland was the closest, most affordable one.”
Vicki reached out and curled her hand around his. It sent a wave of thrill through him, and he struggled to keep his face even and calm.
“I left for college at the end of the summer,” he continued, “it wasn’t the same without Marissa around, and I was miserable.” He gripped her hand as softly as he could, returning the gesture. This is a bad idea, a little voice in his head warned him. She was warm, he noticed, all signs of her anger dissipated. The fire crackled in front of them, her pale face framed with her tangled hair and her dark blue eyes reflecting warm, crimson hues.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I kissed you, without asking,” Ambrose lied. He’d kiss her again if she would let him. Oh, she pissed him off. He’d wished he could leave her here more than once. But he knew, deep down, he couldn’t. He wanted to kiss her again, with every fiber of his being. Wom
en always looked at him with disgust, preferring to judge by the color of his skin; he had dates a plenty in college, even a few one-night stands, but nothing that ever developed into a relationship. Vicki was an oasis in his dry land, and it was hard for him to resist – but he had no other choice.
“I’m sorry I was so mean and rude.”
As soon as she said it, Ambrose fought the urge to stare in shock. “Sometimes I just… I don’t know. It’s been a hard few days, and I, well.” She half smiled. “I’m glad I got stuck out here with you. Despite the fact you kissed me.”
Ambrose tried hard not to let her see how much those words filled him with hope. “Well, you have nothing to fear from me. I won’t do that again… unless you ask.”
Her next words startled him.
She held out her hands to him. “This is me, asking.”
His dark eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”
It was her turn this time around. She scooted closer, her warm hand lightly touching his cheek, and she moved to kiss him. He took her in his arms and she straddled him, deepening the kiss.
He tried to hold her on his lap but winced into their kiss.
“Did I hurt you?” She gasped, rocking back on her heels.
“No, no,” he lied quickly, hiding the agony of his shoulder. “But Vicki?”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure about this?”
She reached down to the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head, revealing the swell of her breasts nearly spilling from her tan sports bra. She slipped it over her head in what seemed like slow motion. He gasped quietly, running a hand down her side as she closed her eyes briefly, her bottom lip tucked in her teeth. She unzipped his jacket and slid her hands inside, running them down his chest. He moaned, half in anticipation, half in pain. As she slipped her thumbs in the waist of his jeans, he grasped her hand.
“Vicki, it’s freezing.”
She only answered him with a kiss.
He took that as a yes.
“It’s been a very long time for me,” he murmured against her.
“I don’t care.”
Vicki pushed him down flat on the blanket. Dropping her shorts in a flash, she straddled him again. She made quick work of the button on his jeans and he shimmied out of them.
Lowering herself slowly, taking him into her, he closed his eyes, his hands finding her waist as she moved against him. He stared into her eyes, and found she was staring back with a look he’d never seen: bliss.
“Oh, Vicki.”
She leaned in to kiss him again, her bare chest pressed against his as they danced the oldest dance of the ages.
The fire was only embers now, but Ambrose knew she would still see him as plain as day. He wished he could see her, as her head tucked in his arm. Their breathing slowed in sync, their skin slick with their sweet deed over too quickly. The chill of the Oregon wilderness swept around them, washing them in the breathtaking cold breeze.
“Ambrose?” she muttered sleepily, and he held her as she shivered.
He looked down at her, brushing her hair from her face. Despite the chill, the reality of what they had just done washed over him like warm waves at home on the beach by his father’s house. His heart swelled with how much he cared for her. “Yes, Vicki?”
“I think we need that tent, now.”
A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You have to let me up.”
“Mmm.” She made a non-committal sound.
“Vicki.”
“I know, I know,” she murmured, rolling away from him and reaching for her discarded sweater.
He stood up slowly, pulling his jeans on. She fumbled for her shorts, shoving both legs into them, as he dumped their tent contents out a few feet away. He was pleased to see it was a pop-up; it unfolded easily with pre-installed poles, and he staked it into the ground easily, but it was much smaller than he thought, with barely enough room for them. Snatching up his shirt, he slipped it back of his head as Vicki dragged their packs in behind him, and they spread the blanket on the cold tent floor and slid into the sleeping bag together.
It was now so cold Vicki immediately latched on to him like … well, Ambrose nearly chuckled, the world was ending. Which it was.
To his alarm, she began to sob quietly, a sound piercing his heart to the point of physical agony, and not from his shoulder this time. He squeezed her tight to him, her tears wetting his shirt. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, and lifted her chin gently, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“I’m having a baby,” she cried, pressing her other hand to her face to assuage the sob. “God help me.”
“Vicki…”
She cried even harder, drowning him out, grasping his shirt as an anchor.
Confused and not sure how to respond, Ambrose just held her, her fingers curled around his so tightly he almost cried out but resisted the urge.
“Vicki,” he urged again, whispering in the darkness.
She sniffled, her cries subsiding. “Yeah?”
“It’ll be okay.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m here.”
Her chest heaved against him.
“Shhh.” He kissed the top of her head gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“We aren’t going to make it, are we?”
“Hey, hey, stop that. We already survived four brushes with the military, escaped a vaporizing weapon not once but twice, jumped into rushing rapids, and lived through a bobcat attacking. We’re basically heroes.”
“I don’t know how much I can take.”
“I think you’d be surprised.” He winced and wrapped his other arm around her. “You’re a remarkable woman, Vicki the Accountant.”
She looked up at him, brushing away her tears, and offered him a small smile. “As are you, Ambrose the Pilot.”
He chuckled and gave her a squeeze. “Now, my love, sleep. We need to be up before dawn and find shelter during the day.”
She blinked at him. “Say that again?”
“What?”
“My love. No one has called me that before.”
Ambrose smiled. “My love.”
He held her even as she drifted to sleep, her soft snores assuring him the tears were over for tonight. Her request had shocked him, and he wondered why no one had ever said that to such a beautiful, crazy, strong woman like Vicki. He realized maybe she wasn’t mean and spiteful because she chose to – but because no one had ever taught her what love really was. Certainly not her crazy cult leader father or her absent mother. What about her fiancé? How could he not cherish a woman such as this?
Ambrose found himself idly trailing his hand to the tiny life growing inside her. Another man’s child, but a child all the same. A child that needed love. Was she really prepared to give it? Alarmed, he realized the tiny bump along her taunt abdomen was larger than he thought, and it worried him. Was it possible she’d lived in denial for longer than she guessed? Could she be further along than even her own suspicions? Couldn’t be, he tried to convince himself. A woman would know her own body, of course.
Never the less, it is a sacred life, Ambrose, his father’s voice rang inside his head, one you must protect at all costs.
Ambrose lay awake for what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t want her to be in so much pain. He didn’t want her to cry herself to sleep. He wanted to see her smile, see her happy, hear her delighted laugh. The voice of his father was right, he would protect her, even if it meant with his life.
He knew then he could never leave her, even if she was searching this desolate plain for someone else. He thought he knew what love was before, but now knew he was just a fool.
A fool in love.
Chapter Four
The next morning was no less awkward than the one before it, except this time they awoke with even less clothes. Vicki was up before the sunrise, sitting in front of the embers of the fire, running her fingers through her hair to tame the wild snarls. Her ey
es closed, remembering last night, and she sighed. She felt for the edge of guilt, but it wasn’t there. Being with Ambrose the night before had been amazing. He had filled her in more ways than one—she finally found in him what she was missing. Had missed for two years.
Someone who loved her.
Ah, there it was, finally: the guilt. Did she feel the same? Was her heart big enough to love two people? Or would she never find Will and make do with Ambrose, instead?
No, he didn’t deserve that. She had to make a decision—and soon. As soon as Ambrose found his plane, would they take off into the sunset and forget all this, try to find safety? Or would she run back to Will, have his child, and try to eke out a living among the desolation of what was once America?
For all she knew, Ambrose was right: Will was dead, and this man in front of her was all she had left. Would he even want to raise another man’s child? She shook her head. She could never ask him to do such a thing.
But as she heard Ambrose stirring, with the faint light of dawn stretched out beyond the tops of the trees, she entertained the idea. Her eyes finally opened, and before them she could almost make out a vision of Ambrose with a baby boy in his arms, smiling and cooing to it. She could barely make out the tiny head of dark hair, just like Will’s. Like Ambrose’s.
The tent flap fell behind her and she felt his arms around her as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. The vision faded as sharply as it had wavered across her eyesight.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
The memories of last night, of their fight, the cat attack, seducing him, and crying in his arms was burned through her memory. Guilt, shame, and bliss hit her then, ripping through her core at what she—they—had done. She turned, a frown on her face, her bottom lip trembling. “I’m sorry about last night,” she admitted. “Everything just happened so…”
“Fast,” he finished, frowning.
“Yeah.” She smiled at him, hoping to ease his feelings. “Are you okay?”
“More than okay…” He pulled her hair away from her neck and kissed her there, too.
Lavender Dreams: Life After Us: Book Two Page 4
