by JoAnn Ross
“I don’t have any intention of becoming gator bait,” she said. “If we stop, we’re sure to fall asleep.”
“We can take turns.”
“You might be willing to trust me with your life, Roxanne. But I have to tell you, I’m not that generous. Especially after you set me up for that fall off your staircase. No, it’s too great a risk. We’re going to keep walking because I don’t have any intention of dying in this godforsaken place.”
Chelsea thought of all the things she had left to do in her life. Like marrying Cash. And having his baby. A baby she could be carrying even now.
She thought about how she wanted to explore the fledgling peace she seemed to have forged with her mother. And, despite the gravity of her situation, she smiled at the idea of breaking the news to Deidre Lowell that she was going to be a grandmother.
No, Chelsea vowed. There would be no dying here tonight.
Like Roxanne, she’d already fallen down too many times to count. Each time, she thought about the deadly water moccasins undoubtedly hiding in the grass, remembered the gators, and instructed her wobbly legs to keep on moving.
Behind her, Roxanne was quietly sobbing again. A few minutes earlier, she’d become hysterical when a raccoon had run in front of her. Chelsea had had to slap her—hard—to quiet her screeching and prevent her from running away.
The flashlight’s white beam had faded to yellow. The circle had narrowed considerably, and now the light was beginning to flicker. If it weren’t for the moonlight streaming in through the tree branches, they’d be in total darkness.
Although she’d tried to remain optimistic, Chelsea felt her confidence sagging considerably. She was reminding herself that she’d never been a quitter, when she suddenly heard a familiar sound.
“Shut up!” she shouted at Roxanne. “Do you hear that?”
The other woman drew in a deep, gulping breath and managed to stop weeping. They both stood statue still, listening.
“It sounds like a motor,” Roxanne said. “Maybe a boat?”
“Not a boat.” Chelsea concentrated. “Oh, God, it’s a helicopter!” She began looking up at the midnight black sky, waving her miserable excuse for a flashlight like a beacon.
Cash was the first to see the dim pinpoint of light. “Look at that,” he said, pointing down into the blackness, through the slanting rain.
“Could be St. Elmo’s fire,” the sheriff said.
“It’s too concentrated. It’s a flashlight.” Relief rushed over him in blessed cooling waves as the pilot focused the spotlight downward. “It’s them.”
“Seems to be,” Joe Burke drawled laconically. But Cash could hear the repressed excitement in the sheriff’s voice. “Got some place we can set this bird down, Danny?”
The pilot swept the spotlight around the area. “That clearing looks pretty safe.”
“There you go.” The sheriff gave Cash a look that suggested he’d never expected any other outcome. But both men knew exactly how close they’d come to tragedy.
The spotlight from the hovering helicopter was blinding. Chelsea shaded her eyes with one hand, while continuing to wave the flashlight with her other.
“They didn’t see us,” Roxanne cried out as the copter rose again over the top of the trees. “They’re leaving!”
For a fleeting, terrifying moment, Chelsea thought Roxanne might be right. “No,” she said, viewing the copter’s descent, “they’re just finding someplace to land.”
When she heard the sound of the rotor whipping the leaves in the trees edging the clearing, Chelsea began running toward the sound.
Cash leaped out of the open doorway and began running toward the place where he’d last seen Chelsea.
He’d come! She’d known he would! Giddy with joy and relief, Chelsea held out her arms.
Feeling like a crazed guy in a shampoo commercial, he lifted her off her feet, covering her wet face with kisses.
She was laughing and crying at the same time. “What kept you?”
“It’s a long story.” Lord, she felt good! Cash wanted to hold on to her forever.
Oblivious to the others, they shared a long, heartfelt kiss that could have lasted minutes, hours or an eternity.
Heedless of the water streaming over them, Chelsea tilted her head back, smiling up into his wonderful, handsome face. “I do hope this doesn’t become a habit. Because I’ll be very annoyed if you’re late for our wedding.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be there on time. With bells on.”
“That’s not exactly the morning coat my mother would undoubtedly prefer the groom to wear,” she said. “But it definitely has possibilities.”
He kissed her again. Harder. Deeper. With all the pent-up emotion swelling in his heart. With all the love in his soul. She kissed him back as they gained strength from each other. Finally, Cash lifted his head.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?”
“Probably about as worried as I was about myself.”
“More.” He kissed her again.
“It was Jo,” Chelsea told him when them came back up for air.
“I know. We found her body.” Cash’s smile faded at the memory. “It looked like she stumbled into a nest of water moccasins not far from the cabin.”
When she wasn’t as shocked as she might have been, Chelsea realized she’d known that all along. Obviously Roxanne had been right about that night-piercing scream belonging to a human.
She shuddered. “That’s so sad.”
“Not as sad as what she probably would have done to you.” His arms tightened around her at the idea.
“She was Roxanne’s daughter.”
“I know. I saw your notes. I only skimmed the top page, but I got the gist from that.”
“It’s a terribly tragic story.” Chelsea sighed. “But at least I’ve found an ending for my novel.”
His laugh was rough and harsh with pure relief. “There you go.” Then he kissed her again because it had been too long. “Let’s go home.”
“Oh, I’d like that.”
As they walked together back toward the helicopter, Chelsea’s tangled nerves finally got the best of her. With a mental apology to her father, she put aside the false bravado that was just too heavy to carry any longer.
“Chelsea?” When she stopped walking, Cash felt another stab of panic. “What’s wrong? Are you sure you’re okay, darlin’?”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him yet again. “But I was so worried you wouldn’t find me in time,” she admitted.
He wasn’t about to confess how he’d feared exactly the same thing. “But I did.”
“Yes. You did.” She managed a wobbly smile and put a hand on his cheek. “And now it’s finally over.”
“As much as I hate to argue with you, after the lousy night you’ve had, Irish, you’re wrong.” Cash covered her hand with his and lowered his smiling lips to hers. “It’s just beginning.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8344-6
SOUTHERN COMFORTS
Copyright © 1996 by JoAnn Ross.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
Visit us at www.mirabooks.com
Joann Ross, Southern Comforts
