Jed's Sweet Revenge

by Deborah Smith

  “A month?” His voice was tragic.

  “I’ll call you lots.” She heard the incessant buzzing that signaled that another ham radio operator wanted to use the phone connection. “Jedidiah. I have to go now. Promise you won’t come here tomorrow. Swear it.”

  She thought for several seconds that he wouldn’t answer. Then his low, weary voice rumbled across the distance. “I swear.”

  “I love you, Jedidiah.”

  “Take care of yourself, take good care.”

  “You too, my love.”

  They hung on the line, dreading the good-bye. Another buzz interrupted them. Thena sobbed raggedly. “Good night, cowboy.”

  “Thena, dear God, Thena.”

  “Good night, my heart.” Then she quickly put her phone on its cradle by the radio. Thena stumbled to the bedroom window and sank to the floor by it. She stared out at the night sky. West.

  “Is he hurt bad?” Through a haze of pain, Jed heard Mac’s booming voice and heavy footsteps coming toward him across the training ring. “Damn crazy man, gettin’ on that colt a second time!” Jed felt Mac’s head trainer, Tony Redman, pressing cautious hands over his rib cage. He winced as a dull ache throbbed through his chest, but forced himself to sit up.

  “No, he’s not hurt bad,” Jed answered for himself. He ignored Tony’s protests to the contrary and squinted up at Mac’s broad, anxious face. “He’s fixin’ to get back on that feisty colt.” Across the ring, a huge gray quarter horse colt snorted derisively and shook his bridled head.

  “The hell you are,” Mac informed him. “If you want to stay here any longer as my guest, you’re gonna calm down and quit takin’ risks.”

  With Mac’s and Tony’s help, Jed stood up. He slapped a hand against his dusty leg. “I’ve been stomped by tougher colts than this one,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah, when you were a few years younger and a helluva lot smarter,” Mac retorted. “When you weren’t eaten up with loneliness and worry. These last two weeks since Thena left, you been worthless. Workin’ twenty hours a day, drinkin’ at night, bein’ careless—it’s not like you, friend. You gotta cut it out.”

  Jed shrugged Mac’s hand away from his shoulder. “You want me off the place, I’ll go,” he offered curtly.

  “Oh, yeah? Where? Back to Thena’s island? That’s the only place you’re gonna be happy. Stop foolin’ yourself, you hardheaded bull.”

  Jed grasped the older man’s hand and looked at him with a grimace of pain. “I apologize for bein’ a jerk.”

  “Go back to her, you dumb cowpoke. Go live on the island.”

  His chest heaving, Jed straightened wearily. “Can’t do it. The place is no good for me. It’s like”—he held out both hands as if searching for words—“I’m not wanted there—except by Thena.”

  Mac’s brow furrowed in consternation. “Just who doesn’t want you there? Who else lives there?”

  Jed shook his head and ended the discussion with a tired wave of one hand. If he told Mac that the island spirits didn’t want him there, Mac would give him a stiff drink and call the doctor. “I’m goin’ back in two weeks,” he said. “In the meantime, I’m gonna ride that colt.”

  He walked toward the arrogant gray, his ribs aching. Jed heard an ominous rattling sound and stopped, his boots frozen to the dusty earth as he scanned the immediate area.

  “There’s a rattler here,” he called over his shoulder. “I can hear it.”

  The unmistakable warning sound stopped abruptly, but he, Mac, and Tony carefully checked around the outskirts of the ring as well as the benches and water troughs beyond.

  “Sun’s gettin’ to you, man,” Mac told him jovially. “There isn’t a snake within a mile of this ranch. I didn’t hear a thing.” He looked at Tony, a short, grizzled man with graying blond hair. “Did you?”

  “Me neither, boss.” They both looked at Jed curiously.

  A little shaken, frowning, Jed passed a hand over his forehead. He’d heard the damn rattlesnake. There was no doubt in his mind. “I think I’ll go lie down awhile,” Jed said slowly. “I must be punchy.”

  He turned and walked toward the gate, his eyes dark with bewilderment. The rattling sound started again. This time Jed shivered. “There! Do you hear it now?” he demanded, pivoting around to gaze at the other two men. After a moment of embarrassment, they shook their heads. Jed felt nausea sweep over him. The rattling sound faded, then disappeared entirely. What the hell was going on?

  “Call the doc,” he told Mac with outward calm. “I must have landed harder than I thought.” He swung about and walked toward the gate, fighting an odd feeling of panic that came from nowhere. That wasn’t true, he decided after a stricken moment. It came from the horizon. The eastern one.

  Jed grabbed the gate with shaking hands. “I’m goin’ to the airport,” he informed Mac and Tony. “Something’s wrong with Thena.”

  Mac latched a strong grip on his shoulder. “Pardner, you’re hurt. Stop it now. Calm down. You’re just confused. I think we’ll take you on down to doc’s, right now.”

  Jed leaned his head on the gatepost and took several deep breaths. The bad, strange feelings began to fade. This was damn stupid of him, he decided. Mac was right. He was hurt, addled, worn out from lack of sleep and a series of hangovers.

  “I’m okay,” he promised Mac. “I’ll just go lie down. Whew.” He shook his head weakly as he raised it. “I must be gettin’ old.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Chuckling tensely, Mac guided him toward the main house.

  Cold perspiration misted Thena’s face and neck. She breathed in shallow, strained gulps as she leaned against the mossy base of a huge oak, studying her swollen right foot. It seemed oddly distant, separate from her body. Whining, Godiva and Rasputin sniffed at the ugly twin puncture marks just above the ankle. They had just finished making certain that the snake that was responsible for those wounds would never again surprise another traveler along this quiet path.

  Thena had performed the only immediate first aid possible. She’d torn a thick strip off the skirt of her cotton sundress and tied it tightly above the bite. She knew it was a pitiful excuse for a tourniquet, but perhaps it would keep the venom from weakening her before she could get back to the house and radio for help.

  Her head swam, and she touched it fearfully. Thena crawled to her feet, using the oak for support, but dizziness overwhelmed her and she slid down the rough tree trunk with a moan. Her house was on the other side of the island. She’d been taking a shortcut to the northern beach, the beach near SalHaven.

  Thena shivered violently. She closed her eyes, struggling to remain clearheaded. She might survive the rattler’s venom without medical help, but it was unlikely. She had to get to the house, the radio. She staggered to her feet again, swaying wildly. To her groggy mind, the trees seemed to be full of ethereal whispers. Suddenly Cendrillon trotted up, her eyes wide at the snake smell that still lingered on the balmy air.

  “Thank … you … spirits,” Thena murmured. She tried to climb onto Cendrillon, but a sickening blackness accompanied the effort. Thena managed to drape herself over the mare’s trembling back, but coherent thought deserted her and she lay immobile there, unable to direct Cendrillon’s actions. Unbidden, the mare started to walk, her movements careful and slow.

  Minutes, hours, perhaps years later, Thena dimly heard the crisp, hollow sound of Cendrillon’s hooves hitting rock. She opened her eyes and squinted down at the ground—no, not ground, marble—the smooth and dingy marble of SalHaven’s main hallway. Dull surprise mingled with Thena’s lethargic thoughts.

  “Why here?” she asked aloud. Her hands swung limply by Cendrillon’s front legs as the little mare walked on through the old mansion. A moment later Thena realized that the marble was now dappled with sunlight and the air no longer carried the cool, musty smell of indoors. The majestic, curving pavilion with its broken skylights and ornate ceiling—that’s where they were now.

  Thena cried out gratefully—
coming here was for the best. She’d never have stayed on Cendrillon’s back all the way to the house, and she wouldn’t have had the strength or reason to use the radio once she arrived there. Thena shoved herself off Cendrillon’s back and collapsed sideways on the cool, smooth floor of the pavilion. She barely knew when she turned to lay on her back, her arms limp by her sides.

  The whispers began again. Thena shook her head wearily. No such thing. Jedidiah was right. There were no spirits—why would they have let this awful thing happen if they truly existed outside her imagination? The caring, protective presence around her was part of her imagination, too, but it gave her comfort.

  If death is coming, she thought peacefully, this is a good place to meet it. But her face contracted with grief—she didn’t want to die, she wanted to hold Jedidiah again, desperately. She wanted to raise the children he would give her and grow old with him.

  “Jedidiah, I need you,” she begged aloud. Her voice echoed throughout the silent mansion, and she lost consciousness before the echo faded.

  It was the merest wisp, more like a memory than a sensation, but he smiled as the clean, flowered scent of Sancia’s forest air reached him. Lying on the Bullocks’ guest room bed—the same bed he’d shared with Thena two weeks ago—Jed woke quickly when he realized that he wasn’t dreaming the island fragrance.

  He jacknifed up in bed, wide awake, his eyes searching the room. Late morning sunlight angled through a window to his left, which told him that he’d been napping for at least an hour since the strange incident in the training ring. He inhaled raggedly, his heart thundering in a way that sent needles of fear down his spine. He wasn’t dreaming the scent of Sancia’s ancient forest. Horror spread through him like a dark cloud. Something was wrong with Thena, and nothing anyone could say would convince him otherwise.

  He leapt out of bed, ignoring the soreness in his ribs, grabbing his wallet and boots as he ran toward the door. Downstairs he raced past an archway that led to the home’s big den. He caught a glimpse of Barbara doing paperwork at a desk there.

  “Goin’ to the island!” he yelled, and kept running.

  “My lord, Jed, don’t. Wait!”

  But by the time she ran outside, he was already jerking his black Ferrari into gear. He swung it down the Circle Ten’s graveled driveway and had already exceeded the local speed limit by the time the car reached the main road.

  Thena was damp and cold with fever already, and she shivered even more as long evening shadows crept off the marshes into the pavilion. In a brief interlude of consciousness, she heard Cendrillon’s soft, close nicker. Godiva and Rasputin had pressed their big bodies on either side of Thena’s, and she vaguely felt their muzzles resting on her arms.

  She was alone, dying alone except for these dear old friends. Jedidiah … poor Jedidiah. She loved him so, and it hurt to think of the loneliness he’d suffer without her. She recreated his dear face deep in the last coherent recesses of her mind … and he was with her, she knew suddenly. There were no spirits. There was Jedidiah, and all the love between them. Even in the last minutes, she would cherish him. She turned her face toward the magenta shadows and was still.

  Jed didn’t wait for Farlo’s boat to reach Sancia’s dock. He jumped across the last four feet.

  “I’ll wait, just like you said to!” the old fisherman called after him. “But hurry, ’cause the sun’s about to set! I don’t like this place after dark!”

  Jed crossed the beach at a run and headed up the woods path toward Thena’s house, his stomach wrenching with fear. It was so damn far. No matter how fast he ran, it was so far.…

  Godiva and Rasputin’s deep barking reached him only seconds before the two giant dogs leapt across the trail. Jed slid to a halt, his chest heaving as he studied them. They whirled in circles, the barking growing louder and more forceful, then darted down a branch of the trail, stopped, and looked at him expectantly.

  “Oh, my God, where is she?” Jed rasped. “Go! Go find Thena!” They took off at a lope, and he sprinted after.

  When they broke from the woods and galloped headlong toward SalHaven, glowing in the sunset, Jed halted, uncertain. Here? Not here! If Thena wasn’t in this damn place, if he’d wasted precious time coming here to hunt for her when she needed him elsewhere, he’d come back later and tear the old mansion down with his bare hands, stone by stone.

  He ran forward through the tall weeds of young pine trees that marked the former lawns. When he reached the curving staircases at SalHaven’s entrance, the dogs appeared above him in the dark rectangle of the door. Then he heard the quick rattle of hooves on the marble. Jed gazed up in shock as Cendrillon appeared in the door also, her head tossing wildly.

  Thena was here, then. He stumbled up the steps, and the three animals pivoted back toward the mansion’s darkening interior. Jed walked swiftly through the shadowy hall.

  “Thena! Thena, where are you?” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  His heart, his life, stopped when he looked down the long hallway to the pavilion beyond and saw her lying there, absolutely, deathly still. He was hardly aware of the horrified, begging words that he groaned as he ran to her and collapsed on his knees.

  “Dear God, dear God, no,” he prayed, when he saw the awful, swollen ankle. One of his big hands grasped her wrist and searched frantically until the callused fingertips found a pulse. Tears of gratitude slid down his face as he gathered her in his arms and lurched to his feet.

  “Jedidiah.” Her eyes didn’t open, but the smile on her face and the sound of her faint voice wrenched a sob from him. “I love you … so. Stay with me … until I die.”

  “Sweetheart … if you die, I’ll go with you.” He turned and carried her into the towering hallway, toward Cendrillon, who would carry them both back to Farlo’s boat. As he walked, Jed lifted his ravaged face and gazed around the silent old mansion. “I’ll take care of her now,” he said hoarsely. “Thank you for keepin’ her alive for me. I heard you call.”

  Thena woke to the murmuring sound of Jed’s deep voice. She lifted her head and gazed past the tied-back netting at the foot of her bed, then smiled. He sat on the floor by the open window, dressed only in cutoffs, talking amicably to the wrens on the sill. Thena tilted her head in gentle wonder—in all the time he’d spent on Sancia, he’d never conversed with the wrens before. Something cynical and resistant had changed inside him during the past few days, and she didn’t understand why.

  “Jedidiah, you’re unusually appealing and sweet today, you know.”

  His head jerked around at the sound of her voice. He vaulted to his feet and came to her side of the bed, then bent over her and lovingly cupped her head in his hands. His dark eyes were as warm as the autumn afternoon. “Good nap?” he asked. She nodded. “How does it feel to be back home again?”

  Thena shifted her foot a little. It lay out from under the white bedspread, propped on a pillow. She sighed in contentment. “Except for being a little sore, I’m wonderful. Being back on Sancia with you makes me feel perfect.” She wrinkled her nose. “The hospital air tasted … white.”

  He chuckled, and her gaze meandered over the bare, taut expanse of his chest and stomach. She put her fingertips on his mouth, then trailed them down his body. His sharp inhalation held delight, but also concern.

  “Whoooa,” he urged. “You’re not well.”

  “I’m practically well.” Her eyes flared with desire. “I believe I’ll chase you, if you don’t cooperate.”

  His voice came out husky and very gentle. “I reckon I can’t have you doin’ that.” He slipped his cutoffs to the floor and stretched out, naked, beside her. “Let’s go real slow and careful, gal.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He slid the covers off her and eased her short white nightgown—her one concession to being sick—over her head. They nestled deep into each other’s arms, touching, kissing, murmuring endearments. The weeks of separation and the restraint demanded by her weak condition combined to charge th
e mood with tender passion.

  After an eternity of slow caresses, Jed settled slowly inside her welcoming body, bringing an ecstatic gleam to her silver eyes. They mesmerized him, and in the delicious, heated moments that followed, he gauged the way they changed, like clouds glowing brighter from the rays of an inner sun, glowing until she and he were both lost in their sheer, luminescent heaven.

  Afterwards, he put on his cutoffs again and wrapped her in a blanket, then carried her to the room’s big rocker. Jed cradled her in his lap, and they listened to the lazy drone of insects outside and the rustling of the wind in the oaks. Thena nuzzled his neck.

  “Jedidiah, you knew I needed you, and you came back. You were right, there aren’t any spirits on Sancia. There’s the bond between us, and that’s all that’s important. I think … I think I can go with you to Wyoming now. I was wrong to believe in spirits.”

  “Ssssh, no,” he crooned. “Do you want them to hear you and get their feelin’s hurt?”

  “What? Jedidiah?”

  He rested his cheek on her short, dark hair, his eyes thoughtful. It was time to explain what he’d felt the other day. He spoke slowly, his voice reverent, as he explained about the strange happenings that had sent him back to her so frantically. He ended by saying, “They called me back here, Thena. I still believe in the bond between us, but I believe in your spirits too. My … grandpa … was with them the other day, lookin’ out for you … and for me.”

  She leaned back and gave him a silent, richly awed look. Then she whispered, “You belong here. You know that now.”

  He nodded, looking perplexed. “Is it crazy? I feel welcome now. I feel at home.”

  She pointed excitedly to her old dresser, an arm’s reach away. He helped her up while she searched through the top drawer, and when she’d retrieved a faded, wrinkled photograph, he lifted her into his arms again and sat back in the rocker.