Bound to Happen

by Mary Kay McComas

  “Are you sure?” She nodded reassuringly. Joe frowned as if he wasn’t at all certain. Finally he sighed and agreed. “Okay. It shouldn’t take long. A couple of hours tops.”

  Joe left, and the cabin began to creek and groan loudly as if it missed his presence. Leslie, of course, didn’t miss him a bit. It was only natural for her to feel a little skittish, out in the middle of nowhere, in an unfamiliar cabin, sitting in a strange little bathtub, with all kinds of vicious animals slinking around outside the door. She felt just as fidgety when Joe was around. In a slightly different way, naturally. But what it boiled down to was six of one and half a dozen of the other.

  Amazingly enough, it wasn’t long before the warm water took effect and began to soothe her aching muscles and jangled nerves. She submerged herself totally in an effort to cleanse herself of the dirt of the last two days. Joe’s soap on a rope smelled manly, as if it just had sailed in from one of the seven seas, but Leslie didn’t care. The lather felt wonderful, so wonderful, she washed her hair twice with it.

  Feeling fresh and uplifted, she got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a large yellow towel. She felt like a new woman. Well, not exactly like a new woman, more like the old Leslie with a few new insights. She didn’t have the answers she’d been looking for, and there was still the matter of the mountain to come to terms with, but there was something else too. A strength that comes from inside when you least expect it. A desire to go on when things look hopeless. A knowledge that for every question or problem there is a suitable solution, if one kept searching for it. And looking for answers is what Leslie did best.

  Wistfully she wished Joe were back. She wanted to share her good feelings with him, show him that she wasn’t always the woebegone fool he’d picked up in the woods two days ago. Leslie sighed. Boldly she opened the front door and looked out at the new day. Ponderosa pines towered over her, the aspen fluttered in the breeze, even the little blue flowers that trailed along the ground seemed bigger and brighter and more beautiful than they had the day before. Vaguely she wondered just where she was. Would the construction of her company’s project extend this far into the mountains? She couldn’t remember, but it was most certainly going to be the first thing she looked up when she got home. Joe would hunt her down and draw blood if she were responsible for destroying his hideaway. Unless … Was there still a way to put a stop to the project? Some way to right her wrong?

  Leslie was in her problem-solving mode when she reentered the cabin. First things first, she decided, dropping her towel on the floor. She couldn’t save a mountain if she wasn’t dressed for it.

  Leslie felt she could claim a thorough and intimate knowledge of Joe’s entire wardrobe. She could attest to the fact that he’d had no women visitors, or if he had, he let them all go home with their underwear on. Having to choose from among the huge selection of white T-shirts and jeans she found had been tough. So she chose the ones on top and turned her attention to the flannel shirts. She picked a red one because it was that sort of day. Joe’s jeans were quite big in the waist, and he apparently had only one belt—the one he had on. Feeling that perhaps it was being put to its best use in keeping Joe’s pants in place, she opted to use one of his ties. Consciously, she picked out the ugliest one she could find. It was red with weird little emblems dotted all over it. It was also on the bottom, closest to the nail on which the ties hung, which lead her to believe Joe seldom wore it and that he wouldn’t object to her using it for a belt.

  Coffee was next on her list. She definitely was going to miss her coffee maker in the next two weeks, but the little tin pot and the wood-burning stove would have to do for now. It was while she was waiting for the coffee to brew that she found the pistol Joe had left on one of the wooden crates.

  It was an evil-looking instrument. Cold, black, metallic, just looking at it sent a shiver up her spine. Still, she disliked admitting that she was afraid of it. Grudgingly she had to concede it had a useful purpose—scaring off large animals. What if Joe ran into some fierce wild beast on his way back from the outhouse some night, and she couldn’t lift a finger to help him, she wondered. She owed it to him, after all he’d done for her, to at least be able to shoot the gun if an emergency arose, she concluded.

  She reached out and picked up the pistol by its handle then laid it back down again. If she was going to shoot a gun, she was going to shoot the loudest one. She walked over to the cabinet Joe had opened before, and with great care and trepidation, removed the double-barreled shotgun. Assuming it to be loaded, as the pistol had been when Joe checked it, she was careful to keep it aimed at the floor until she got it out of the cabin.

  Leslie was surprised that it was heavier than it looked. Why anyone would choose to use it in a bank robbery puzzled her, because it was very awkward to handle. Joe had said that her best targets would be the sky and the ground, and taking into consideration the weight of the thing, she felt the ground to be her best bet.

  Careful to move her feet out of the way, she put the butt of the rifle under her right arm. Supporting the gun with her left hand, she extended her right index finger to the trigger. She paused to take several deep breaths, telling herself this was something she had to learn for Joe’s sake. Then she closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. It didn’t move. She tried it again with the same results. It didn’t make sense to her. Joe wouldn’t keep a gun that didn’t work in his cabin.

  Upon closer inspection, it didn’t take her long to find the little safety lock and release it. Repeating her previous steps, she regathered her courage and pulled the trigger again. The sound was not only deafening, it was terrifying. But it was the force of the shot being put to the ground that was so powerful; it knocked Leslie clean off her feet, throwing her backward to land flat on her back, winded and stunned.

  For several long minutes she lay there sucking in air, aware of the throbbing ache in her right arm and shoulder and wondering what good she would be in the event of an emergency if she couldn’t stand and shoot a gun at the same time. She was just about to get back on her feet and try it again, when she heard Joe’s panic-stricken voice calling out to her.

  Six

  LESLIE KNEW SHE should have gotten up and made it clear that she was unharmed. She wanted to get up, but she was curious to see what Joe would do. Was his alarm due to the fact that someone was hurt? Or due to the fact that he thought she was hurt? Playfully, she kept her eyes closed and didn’t twitch a muscle.

  First she heard and then she felt the rhythm of Joe’s steps as they raced toward her. He called her name twice before he reached her side.

  “Dammit to hell! I knew it. I should never have left you here alone. Leslie? Leslie, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice unsteady and full of fear. “Les?”

  She could feel his hands on her shoulders as they gently moved up to examine her neck and the back of her head. They came down again, over her arms and ribs, then quickly to her legs.

  “Where are you hurt? Oh, wake up and tell me where you hurt,” he pleaded, growing more distressed by the second.

  Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all, Leslie pondered, while she relished the feel of his hand on her cheek as he gently pushed her hair away from her face. She got the distinct impression that if she suddenly came to life right now, Joe would surely kill her for deceiving him. She opened her right eye just a smidgen to get a look at the expression on his face. Even though her vision was hazy, she could tell he was extremely upset.

  “Hmm, I don’t see any bleeding,” he said, passing his hands over her shoulders again. “I hope you’re not bleeding internally.” He sounded horrified by the very idea.

  His hands moved down along her ribs and more intimately across her pelvis to the juncture of her legs. Slowly, they traveled upward palpating her abdomen and still higher until they curved around her breasts. Her unbuttoned outer shirt had fallen away, leaving only the thin T-shirt as a barrier between her and Joe’s searching hands. Her heart beat painfully in h
er throat when his fingers lingered to fondle and caress. He teased the hardening peaks with his thumbs, and air caught in her lungs. She began to feel truly faint as he continued to arouse every nerve ending in her body until it stood up and screamed with need.

  “Ah …” she groaned loudly as she struggled to sit up and end the game. Fortunately, her right shoulder really did hurt, or she’d have come up too quickly and blown the whole act. She’d have to be more careful, she reminded herself. “Where am I?”

  “Where you belong, sweetheart. Flat on your back,” Joe said in a saccharine voice, his anxiety subdued too rapidly, much to Leslie’s dismay. Brave enough to open only one eye, she saw that he had leaned back on his legs and was watching her, undeceived. So much for the great new day, she thought fatalistically.

  With both eyes open, she hung her head in shame, unable to look him in the eye, until she remembered what he’d done. “You were pawing me! You knew all along I wasn’t hurt, and you took advantage of me,” she blurted out, incensed.

  Joe’s mouth dropped open at her brazen outburst. “You’ve got a nerve,” he shouted right back. “After what you did to me? Scaring me like that? You’re lucky that’s all I did. I ought to roll you over and spank you.”

  Leslie’s eyes narrowed as her rage grew out of control. “You try it, and I’ll kill you,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the shotgun that still lay beneath her right hand. It barely was an inch off the ground when Joe’s eyes lowered to the gun wrapped tightly in her fist. His gaze returned to meet and hold hers with a penetrating stare. Joe didn’t move a muscle. He sat there watching her calmly as if he knew she wouldn’t take aim and couldn’t pull the trigger.

  He was right. Leslie’s mind took a step forward, and she saw herself holding a deadly weapon, aimed straight at another human being. The sight was nauseating, her body convulsed at the horror of it. She laid the rifle back down on the ground. “I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice, this time she was truly ashamed.

  “So am I.” Joe’s deep, harsh voice was so understanding and sincere that she couldn’t help looking up at him. He smiled at her. “You scared me. I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

  “It was a bad joke on my part. I’ve learned my lesson.” She laughed softly at herself, and said, “Actually, I should have known better. I never was very good at pretending. Even when I was a little girl.”

  Joe was smiling at her. His expression took on a wistfulness as his gaze roamed over her face. “I’ll bet you were a cute little girl.”

  Under his intense scrutiny and unaccustomed to his softhearted words, Leslie felt selfconscious and warm all over. Their gazes locked. In that instant, there was a vague connection made between them. He stated a fact, and she accepted it and agreed with it. But neither of them would acknowledge it as they looked away in denial.

  Joe cleared his throat loudly, then addressed her point blank. “What the hell were you shooting at anyway? I told you to use the handgun if you needed to. You idiot. You’re lucky you didn’t break your arm with that shotgun.”

  She wanted to tell him about a pack of wolves in an effort to maintain his caring attitude, but it wasn’t exactly her style. Try as she might to follow her mother’s advice, lying just never seemed to work for her. “I wasn’t shooting at anything. I thought I should at least try to shoot a gun in case of an emergency. I thought this gun would be louder.”

  “Bigger is better, huh?”

  “Well, that’s what I was hoping.”

  “Can you stand up? Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right then, come here.”

  Leslie got to her feet as she watched Joe pick up the shotgun and check to see if the second round was still in place. He motioned for her to come to him, and when she was within touching distance, he took her arm and pulled her even closer.

  “Now,” he said, drawing her into his arms so that she was facing away from him. “I’ll show you the correct way to do it, if you really want to learn how.” He put the gun to her shoulder, making a point of telling her that it didn’t go in her armpit. He used a lot of technical talk to tell her, in essence, that if she planned to shoot a gun bigger than the size of her foot, not to aim it directly into the ground, to angle it more, or the backlash would knock her down every time.

  Leslie didn’t particularly want and wasn’t at all interested in this lesson on how to handle a shotgun. She had no intention of ever touching a gun again as long as she lived. If an emergency arose, she’d think of something else to do. But, she wasn’t about to tell Joe. She liked the feel of his arms around her as he held her close, the way they brushed against her when he moved. She liked watching his big, rough hands as they took hers and showed her where to put them on the rifle. And there was no denying the warm, tingling sensation she felt when his legs pressed against the back of hers and his chest adjusted itself to conform to her back.

  She almost giggled with delight when he put his cheek to hers and tried to show her how the sight worked. He could have repeated that specific part of the lesson several times, and she wouldn’t have minded.

  “Now then, all you have to do is keep that branch lined up with the sight on the end of the barrel, and pull the trigger. And don’t close your eyes, or you’ll lose your aim. Ready?” Leslie nodded. “Keep your legs spread apart, or you’ll be back on your fanny again.”

  There was a laughing quality in his voice that she took instant exception to and very naturally turned her head to glare at him. Her nose brushed his cheek, and their eyes met and held for a long tense moment of appraisal.

  “Would you like to make a wager on your hitting that branch?” he asked, leaving no doubt as to what the stakes would be.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Afraid you’ll lose again?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s bound to happen eventually,” he said, almost like a warning in her ear. “Wouldn’t you just as soon get it over with than have to live with the anticipation that much longer?”

  “What anticipation?” she asked, looking away, making an elaborate gesture of squaring her shoulders and bracing her legs as she took careful aim at the branch.

  “The anticipation of knowing that eventually you and I are going to make love. And don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

  “I haven’t thought about it.” Well, not in so many words, she added mentally. Her hands grew moist, and her heart was racing as he continued to talk softly, intimately in her ear.

  “I know you have. Look, Leslie. See how well our bodies fit together? I noticed it the other night when you spent the whole night in my arms. We’ll do that again soon. Only this time you won’t be sleeping.” Leslie’s muscles grew taut, and her nerves became excited. She flexed and extended her trigger finger, trying to keep her concentration focused on the tree limb. “It’ll be glorious, Leslie. I’m already looking forward to touching your soft, smooth skin again. To kissing you again. To finding softer places to touch and secret places to kiss, that—”

  The shotgun went off with a resounding clap that seemed to go on forever. When Leslie opened her eyes, she was amazed to find the branch gone. Triumphantly she turned on Joe. “There. Happy now?”

  “Are you? You’re the one who wouldn’t bet.” His green eyes were sparkling proudly. He’d been goading her, she realized instantly. Saying all those horrible things so she’d try harder to make the shot. She began to seethe.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t get mad now. If you’re a very good girl, it may just happen yet,” he said, tapping her nose lightly with his index finger. “And next time you decide to play dead, don’t try to peek. It makes your eyelashes flutter.”

  Leslie gasped. He released his instructor’s hold on her and took the rifle from her hands. “Since you’re feeling so spunky today, you can help me carry all that food up to the cabin. I dumped it about a hundred yards back when I heard your shot. If the eggs are broken, it’s all your fault.”

 
; Wasn’t it always her fault, Leslie asked herself. She knew better than to give into her impulses. She wasn’t a spontaneous person. Her life was much less stressful when she kept it simple and logical. As for Joe Bonner and his trickery, well, she’d have to find another way to deal with him.

  Trying to make amends for her misdeed, Leslie volunteered to cook the scrambled eggs for their brunch. When Joe asked if she could cook eggs better than she made coffee, which she’d forgotten and left to boil over, she assured him she could. However, there was no omelette pan or cheese grater, no electric toaster or juice maker. Under such primitive conditions she was forced to tax her ingenuity.

  “This is good,” Joe said, bobbing his head in approval over what Leslie had dubbed “eggs hors concours.” “I usually don’t eat this fancy stuff. It’s a nice change. What are these green things?”

  “Don’t you know?” she asked, growing worried that she had committed yet another error. She had returned to the near empty garden, hoping for inspiration when her meal began to look as plain as eggs. A clump of chives and some of the vegetables Joe had bought were a help. She’d tasted one of the chives to be sure of what they were, but if Joe didn’t recognize his own produce …

  “Where’d it come from?”

  “Your garden.”

  “My garden?” He was starting to look seriously concerned.

  “Didn’t you say that was a garden at the side of the house?”

  “Well, yes, but there isn’t anything planted in it yet. I haven’t had the time.”

  The longer he looked at her as if she might have poisoned him, the more resentful she became. She wasn’t totally stupid. She’d gone to college. She held down a good job. She could cook up a storm in a civilized kitchen. And she knew a chive when she saw one. “Well, you got yourself a great little crop of chives out there now, Mr. Bonner. Believe you me,” she told him as she slapped her hand down on the table and looked him straight in the eye, daring him to argue with her.