Fall (Roam Series, Book Two)

by Kimberly Adams

  “I don’t know.” He exhaled deeply, stretching his legs out beneath the dash. “All I know is that this… all of this… is coming to an end. I can feel it.”

  “A good end?” I asked hopefully, glancing toward the store.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, his fingers curling over the back of his neck. “Violet won’t stop until she finds her mother. You know that.”

  “She wants answers from Troy. I know that’s why she’s here.”

  “How far do you think she’d go to get those answers?” Logan prodded, turning to look at me.

  I stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

  He lowered his voice, watching the window. “West loves you. He’d never betray you. I love you,” he added, his eyes meeting mine. “But Violet? She only wants to find her mother.”

  Shaking my head, I glanced at the store. “She wouldn’t betray us. West is her father.”

  “Something tells me she hasn’t adjusted to that information yet.”

  I leaned back into the seat, resting my hands on my massive belly. Logan stared at my fingers while I made small circles with my palms. “Please don’t tell West this, but I’m terrified of giving birth. At least I was at home, in 2012, but this is 1955.” I took a deep breath before bursting into frightened tears. “Logan, women were tortured during labor. Strapped down, unable to move…” My chin began to tremble, a characteristic that I was unfamiliar with in my own body.

  He shook his head, arching one eyebrow sardonically. “Tied down? Come on, Cam. I wouldn’t let that happen to you. Neither would West.”

  “It wasn’t that long ago, but it was so barbaric… I need more information. I need to prepare myself.” I took a deep breath, tears dripping down my cheeks. Logan moved to the back of the van, gathering me into his arms.

  “Knock it off,” he warned. “If he comes out here and sees you sobbing, I lose man points,” he teased, pulling my head to his shoulder and plaiting my hair with his fingers.

  I sniffed, trying to calm myself. “It’s just so much. Everything. And is it wrong that I feel sick every time he snaps Troy’s neck? Even though I know that Troy’s a murderer? And to chop off his… his arm…”

  I broke into sobs, no longer able to articulate words without gasping.

  He held me silently for long minutes. Finally, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “I’ve talked to veterans who were over there. Overseas. They talk about guilt, and stress. They do what they’re told, and that’s the commitment that they make to each other. Act now, feel later.” He gripped me tightly to his chest. “Roam, we’re just kids. We don’t know anything. What’s that philosopher guy you like say about it? All we know is our ignorance.”

  I smiled through my tears, sniffing. “Socrates. Glad to hear that you pay attention when I talk to you.”

  He offered me a small grin. “Troy and West have been fighting this war for centuries. We’ve been kids for eighteen years.”

  I closed my eyes, exhaustion taking over. “I’m afraid to die, Logan.”

  His hand brushed over my cheek. “Most of us are.”

  The van door slid open at that moment, and Violet and West returned with several shopping bags. I opened my eyes, brushing the tears away quickly as Violet glanced down at the bag in her hand. “Okay, I didn’t have much to work with, but… why are you crying?” she asked.

  “What happened?” West demanded, glaring at Logan.

  Logan held his hands up defensively. “Calm down. She’s just tired and scared. Let her sleep.”

  “I need to change first,” I managed, rummaging through the bags at my feet. I couldn’t bear to sit another minute in the too-tight, bloodied clothing. “Cover me, please,” I asked Violet.

  “Okay,” she replied. Her eyes, the same blue as West’s, were filled with compassion, an emotion I had never seen her show until that moment.

  I changed into a long-sleeved, cotton chemise. The dress was cherry red with a scooped neck and wide lapel. The tie was meant for a bow to fit right under my breasts, and the skirt fell softly over my stomach. My breasts were twice as big, but not nearly as large as in 1977.

  West passed jeans to Logan, and only then did I realize that his jeans from 2012 were unbuttoned, barely fitting over Logan’s muscled waist. His shirt, also stretched, was replaced by a basic, brown and white, button-down bowling shirt.

  I watched West pull off his coat, removing his own white polo that was splattered with blood. He peeled it over his shoulders and grabbed another white shirt from the shopping bag. His muscles, taut as he stretched into the polo, caught me off-guard.

  Had I really forgotten how incredibly handsome he is?

  He lifted his eyes and caught me staring at him. “We’ll eat in an hour. Roam, can you wait that long?”

  “I…yes, that’s fine.”

  His face softened, and he reached for me. “Come here, baby. Logan, can you take over? You can drive a manual, right?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, moving into the driver’s seat.

  “Violet, you take shotgun,” Logan ordered.

  “Wish I had a shotgun,” she muttered, climbing into the passenger’s seat. Logan caught the keys as West tossed them to him.

  “And what exactly would you do with a shotgun?” he drawled sarcastically, giving her a once-over. “They don’t work the same as mascara.”

  “Mascara, huh? You seem to know an awful lot about makeup.”

  “Flirt quietly, please,” West called, tucking me into his arms after checking on Troy.

  Violet stiffened, and Logan shot him an irritated glare.

  “I missed you,” I whispered against the rough, new fabric of his shirt. He tucked his coat over me, pressing his lips to mine. Logan pulled out of the parking lot, carefully checking for oncoming traffic.

  “God, I missed you,” he answered, the sentiment clear in the way he cradled me in his arms. “Sleep. You’re safe now, Roam.”

  I closed my eyes at his calming words, warm in his arms.

  . . .

  Disoriented, I woke three hours later with West’s arms still around me. I leaned forward, cupping his face in my hands and pressing my lips to his. He responded immediately to my kiss, his arms tightening on my back. I exhaled softly, my thoughts becoming warm summer breezes as my tumultuous heartbeat quickened. His lips urged mine apart, and his tongue dove. Breathless, I tried for a breath as his hands moved to hold my face steady.

  “Get a room. Jesus.”

  Violet’s disgusted forced me to pull away, and I covered my lips, my face reddening. Her knees were bent against the dashboard, and she massaged the bridge of her nose with irritation.

  Logan glanced at us through the rearview mirror. “We’re almost there. Could you maybe wait?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  Violet sighed. “So, this island… is an actual island? We have to take a boat?”

  West sat up at her curt words, focused on the windshield. “Yes. There’s no road yet. Ferry service won’t be available for another five years.”

  “How are we going to get a boat?” she asked, pulling her hair off her neck and fanning her skin with her hand. “It’s, like, fifty degrees outside. In December. It’s about a hundred degrees in here.”

  West nodded. “I have a boat. It was the way we’d travel to the mainland. We have to wait until tonight, though.” He stretched his long legs out, glancing back at Troy before lowering his mouth to my ear. “I have to take care of him again. Roam,” his voice was coarse, affected by our kisses. “Close your eyes, baby.”

  I did. I knew it was necessary but couldn’t bear to see him snap his neck again.

  In minutes Logan was pulling into another gas station. “We need cash, and food,” he murmured, turning the wheel of the van and easing up to a pump. I swayed as the tires ran over the bell hose. A teenage boy hurried out to greet us, obviously eager to get the gasoline pumping so he could wash the windows.

  Violet fiddled with
the dial on the radio to finally get a clear station, and smooth, baritone voices crooned about coins in a fountain. I stared at the numbers on the radio display, deciding they looked very much like the coordinates that had been on my arm.

  “Need a map?” The boy asked, his red-freckled face creating a postcard-worthy picture of the midcentury.

  “No, but a restroom?” West responded. The boy began checking the fluids in the van, nodding.

  “Of course, sir, right in the back,” he replied, watching me climb awkwardly out of the van.

  I walked with West, and he stood outside the door waiting for me the entire time. Shuffling into the small space, I closed the door before recoiling at the grimy knob. The floors screamed for a mop, and the thin soles of my boots threatened to leak if I walked into any one of the standing puddles of yellowed water.

  I hope that’s water.

  “Okay in there?” West called through the door.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, hurrying to finish. When I emerged from the restroom, West stepped back for second, his eyes raking over me before taking my hand. “What?”

  “I’m still not completely awake, I guess. I’m still getting used to your body,” he said from under his breath, tilting his head slightly at the owner as we passed through the tiny store. I looked around, finding no amenities like travel-packs of medication, candy, or bottled beverages. I thought about our drive, realizing that there were no convenience stores were in sight, and not a single grocery store, fast-food restaurant, or rest-stop lined the highway.

  “I’m huge,” I complained, moving slowly toward the van. He stopped me in the middle of the warm, sunny parking lot, turning me to face him.

  “You’re beautiful. And alive,” he added, marveling at my face. “Annie… didn’t live past yesterday.”

  I searched his eyes, my chest tightening at the sadness in his tone. “You loved her very much,” I said, reaching for his arms. He nodded, taking my left hand in his.

  “We were married. At this moment in time, you are my wife,” he said, brushing his thumb and forefinger over my ring finger. “Your fingers were swollen, and you couldn’t wear your ring. It’s at home, in our bedroom.”

  An excited smile edged over my lips, and no amount of effort could keep it at bay. “I’m… your wife?”

  He bent to kiss my lips, his breath so warm and familiar. “Yes. And when we go home, I will make you my wife, Roam. If you’ll have me.”

  I chuckled into his mouth, grinning. “That’s funny, Mr. Perry. If I’ll have you.”

  “Mrs. Perry, I’ll require an official yes.”

  “Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” I laughed, balancing on my toes to loop my arms around his neck. He kissed me soundly, almost making me forget that we had Logan, Violet, and half-dead Troy in the back of our stolen van.

  “I would have preferred to ask you somewhere other than a parking lot, but this will have to do.”

  Parking lot marriage proposals… I thought of Logan in the lot of our high school. I knew at that moment that it didn’t matter where the proposal was, it mattered who was asking.

  “I would have said yes, any place, any… year.” I flinched at a low cramp in my back, wondering if maybe I wasn’t finished in the restroom. He gathered me in his arms, grinning broadly. His dark, blond beard had grown on me, and I decided that I preferred him with facial hair.

  “You think so,” he said with a laughing scoff, smiling down at me, “but remind me to tell you about 1790.”

  I grinned, walking with him hand-in-hand to the van.

  The distant cramp came back again twenty minutes later.

  Chapter Eleven

  We ate at a diner in Swansboro, North Carolina, minutes from where our boat was docked. The waitress served us hamburgers after I adamantly protested the array of seafood offered on the menu and begged everyone to pass.

  The waitress gestured to the menu. “There’s a new speedy restaurant in California, serves hamburgers through a window, I heard. Like White Castle. Another one opening in Illinois. Just a matter of time ‘fore they’re all over the place.”

  I realized that she meant McDonalds. West grinned at her. “Thanks, Martha,” he said, glancing at her nametag once before lifting his eyes to hers. She beamed, blushing before scurrying behind the counter.

  “Really? In front of your pregnant wife,” Violet said, tossing the menu to the table disgustedly.

  His eyes shifted to hers and narrowed. “What?”

  “He doesn’t even realize that he’s doing it,” I defended West, nodding at the waitress. “Flirting,” I added, shrugging.

  “D-bag,” Violet snapped.

  West rolled his eyes. “Violet, there’s a difference between flirting and being polite,” he defended in irritation, looking to Logan for help.

  Logan gave him a look that read you’re on your own.

  “No wonder my mom fell for you,” Violet added, taking an enormous bite of her hamburger and scowling at her father. “Waitresses are your specialty.”

  “Your mother was just as friendly to me,” he said, glancing my way.

  I lowered my eyes to my food, thinking about Laurel.

  She’s alive, somewhere… and only Troy knows where to find her.

  “You poor, manipulated man,” she said with her mouth full.

  Logan winced her way. “Could you possibly swallow before speaking?”

  She gulped animatedly, reaching for her sugary soda. “Stop looking at my mouth.”

  Their immaturity made me feel three times my age. I tried to take small bites but had no appetite. West allowed me to pick at my plate, saying very little as they finished their meals. I glanced out the window of the diner, following the late afternoon sun as it beat down on the parking lot. The persistent cramp that had bothered me since the gas station had suddenly become a pain, and I doubled over in my seat.

  “Oh,” I breathed, gripping my side and lifting my eyes to Logan’s.

  West leaned into me, wrapping his arm around my back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just… I think I need the restroom,” I managed, struggling to ease my way out of the booth.

  “Are you sick?” He asked, rising to his feet and waling with me.

  “No… I have to…” I stopped suddenly as warm moisture tricked down my leg. “I… did I just pee myself?”

  West looked down at my legs, his grip on my back tightening. “Christ,” he hissed, looking back at the booth. Logan and Violet were already on their feet, and Logan dropped cash to the table as West scooped me into his arms.

  “Don’t carry me, I’m so heavy, and… and wet-”

  “Amniotic fluid,” he said quickly, securing me in his strong arms as though I was weightless. “Are you in pain?”

  Logan was behind the wheel in seconds, and West carefully lowered me to the seat in the back of the van. “How much time do we have?”

  “No hospitals!” I screamed, jolting when I realized Troy was directly behind me.

  “I’ve never delivered a baby, Roam,” West said as Logan pulled out onto the main road. “I think I could do it, but if there’s a complication, I can’t-”

  “Please, West,” I cried. The pain returned, and this time I had no problem distinguishing it from a cramp. It began in my back, pulsing fingers that crept along my sides and erupted into my abdomen. Shadows billowed in my vision, darkening West’s face.

  He held my chin firmly in his hands. “Breathe!” he shouted, shaking me slightly. “In through your nose, out through your mouth baby-”

  “Don’t you know Lamaze?” Violet demanded, holding the seat tightly as Logan flew around a curve. “Isn’t that a mandatory class or something?”

  “Violet, shut up,” Logan growled.

  West took charge of the situation with his authoritative tone. “We can’t bring Troy across in the daylight. I’ll take Roam to the cottage. You and Violet stay here with Troy until I can come back for you. Logan, do you think you can kill him when it’s
time?”

  “He didn’t have any problems killing me,” Violet muttered from under her breath.

  “Yes,” Logan snapped, pulling into a gravel lot near the water. “This is the place?”

  “Yeah, I see the boat. Annie,” West whispered, gathering me into his arms, “are you sure that you trust me to do this? I can take you to a hospital.”

  I stared at him, relishing in the fact that my muscles had stopped contracting inside me. “Just tell me that you can,” I begged, tears brimming. I ignored the name that he called me, understanding that his emotions were running just as rampant as mine were.

  “I can,” he promised, nodding confidently at me as his thumbs brushed over my cheeks. His expression turned stern, and I met his eyes, desperately seeking his commanding control. “Roam. I’m putting you in the boat and taking you across. When the pain starts, breathe. Focus on breathing.”

  “Okay,” I acknowledged. He squeezed my hands once before hurrying to the small office at the dock, and I assumed that he was paying a fee for parking the boat.

  “Hey, Cam,” Logan called, turning to me as I panted. I held my stomach as another pain hinted in my lower back. “I’ll be there tonight.” He reached for my hand, holding it tightly. “I love you. I’ll be there tonight,” he repeated, nervously watching West approach the van again.

  The wooden motorboat traveled over the smooth waves of the sound easily, but through two more contractions, the half-mile ride felt endless. The cottage was another half-mile from the dock on the island. West reached for me to lift me into his arms, but I protested weakly.

  “No, I’ll walk,” I assured him, gritting my teeth. My eyes watered and burned. “I’ll attract too much attention if you carry me.”

  He held me tightly against his side, half-carrying me as we walked toward one of the only cottages in sight. I marveled at the emptiness of the island; few people, no development, and nothing but glorious ocean that stretched for miles.

  “You chose this place so we’d be isolated,” I realized, lifting my eyes to his. “I was killed on the mainland, at a gas station, wasn’t I?”

  He stiffened, opening the unlocked door of the cottage.