by Sharon Dunn
STAY OFF THE KING RANCH OR THE BIRDS IN THE CENTER WILL DIE, ONE BY ONE.
Keith lifted the cover off the painting he had been working on and dipped his brush in a shade of blue he thought would capture the intensity of the Montana sky. He clicked on a light and positioned it so it shone on the canvas. This attic room in Gramps’s house, which he had set up as his living space, was hardly an ideal artist’s studio. It had small windows. At this hour, there wasn’t any natural light at all. Lack of ventilation made the space hot in the evening. But even with all its flaws, he liked the place for the quiet it provided.
In the corner of the sparsely furnished space, a German shepherd rested on a bed. With only a little brown on his nose and at the ends of his paws, Jet was an appropriate name for the therapy dog the V.A. had provided.
Keith took in a deep breath. It had to be past midnight. He slept on an erratic schedule and when he couldn’t sleep, he painted. Originally, his physical therapist had prescribed painting as a way of getting his dexterity back, but the hobby had proven to be useful for working out emotions, as well.
Seeing Jenna again had stirred him up. Had it been a mistake to come back here? After the death of his mother, it had seemed as though God was leading him back to the ranch to heal things between him and his grandparents since they were his only living relatives. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Grandma and Gramps had long ago turned off the evening news and gone to bed. They had adjusted to their night owl in the attic. The arrangement seemed to be working out well. The attic had a separate entrance with outside stairs, so he could come and go without bothering them. He helped out as much as they would let him. In the two weeks since he had been here, he and Gramps had mended some fence and repaired the dilapidated barn. He had tiled an entryway for his grandmother and weeded her garden. It felt good to make amends for what had happened twelve years ago, and they had welcomed him back with open arms.
The summer he had his first drink, a fellow kayaker who had been like a father to him had drowned on a run that Keith had decided not to go on at the last minute. Keith had spent a week in turmoil wondering if he would have been able to save his friend if he’d been there. At seventeen, he hadn’t known why he’d started drinking. Only when he was in treatment did he realize the alcohol numbed the guilt and confusion. His brush swirled across the canvas. In the left-hand corner, he’d painted an eagle in flight. He’d done that before he had ever run into Jenna Murphy. Jenna with the bright brown eyes. Jenna who had been a skinny-legged ten-year-old the first time he had seen her sitting in the park reading a book. Jenna who had become a beautiful woman.
He angled away from the easel and massaged his chest where it had grown tight. He had kept all those memories behind some closed door. Whenever he allowed the good memories in, the bad ones were bound to follow.
The last time he had seen her, she had been fifteen, standing with her back pressed against the door of her house. The silence of the summer night had surrounded them as she looked up at him. That night, he’d come to her house for a reason. He hadn’t expected her cold response.
“Keith, I heard about what you have been doing…about the drinking.”
“I haven’t had anything to drink for a week.” She had refused to be a part of his drinking life, so they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks. The time apart made him realize how much she meant to him. His grandparents’ lectures hadn’t stopped his craving for alcohol, but he’d quit for Jenna…if she’d help him. He didn’t want to lose her.
“I know about all the bad things you did. Everyone is talking.” Her voice held a desperate pleading quality. “You’re my friend, but we—we can’t stay friends if you’re going to act this way.”
“I’m trying to change here, Jenna. I have changed.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “I know this summer has been a mistake.”
Her lips pressed together, disbelief evident in her features, like she didn’t have any faith in him. Didn’t she know who he really was?
“Jenna, I’ve realized something. That’s why I came here tonight. To talk to you. To tell you I don’t want to be just your friend.” He leaned toward her, close enough to be enveloped by her floral perfume. “Please.”
She studied him for a long moment. She turned her head away. “You need to go. You’re scaring me.” Her voice fused with fear.
He had seen his life as being at a crossroads that night. He was looking for a safe harbor to escape the destructive storm he had created. Her friendship had always been a stabilizing force in his life. After two weeks apart, he had thought maybe he knew what she meant to him. He had gone there with plans to kiss her for the first time, to let her see how important she was, how badly he needed her help. Apparently, the friendship had just been about fun to her. She hadn’t been willing to listen to him or weather the challenge he faced. Her rejection had propelled him back to his drinking buddies.
Though he had been angry at the time, he took responsibility for the arrest that had happened later that night. Looking back, he was glad it had happened. It had been a wake-up call. When his legal entanglements had been addressed, he enlisted. By the time he was finished with boot camp, he had gotten help and sobered up.
But the way Jenna had abruptly and completely cut him out of her life was what he could not get past. She hadn’t come to see him in jail and wouldn’t come to the phone when he’d called to say goodbye, as if all five summers together were washed away by one month of bad choices. She didn’t stick around long enough to see that he had changed.
The image of her turning her head to one side was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Keith clenched his jaw. He squeezed out more blue paint on the palette. His brush made broad, intense strokes across the canvas.
If Jenna hadn’t cut him out of her life, things would have been different. They would have stayed in touch. She would have known he’d gotten his act together shortly after that night.
Though the death of his friend had triggered his drinking, the emptiness of never having known his father had laid the foundation. If AA had taught him anything, he knew he couldn’t blame Jenna for his life choices. But still, he had been vulnerable with her, revealed his true feelings. And he had been rejected. He would never put himself in a place where she could hurt him like that again.
He had dated other women in the twelve years since he’d left Hope Creek in disgrace. Some had broken up with him and he had ended other relationships, but nothing had hurt as much as her turning away from him that night.
He flexed his fingers to try to work out the ache in them. Even though he had stripped down to his T-shirt, the attic space was still hot. He collapsed in a chair and stared at the work he had done so far. It was an okay landscape, but nothing that threatened Charlie Russell’s reputation.
Apparently sensing Keith’s distress, Jet rose from the bed and padded over to his owner. He rested his head on Keith’s leg, licked his chops and let out a sympathetic whine. Keith stroked Jet’s smooth, soft head, the movement drawing his attention to his wrist.
He ran his fingers along the braided scar that started there and moved up the inside of his arm to the crook of his elbow. He had an identical scar on the other arm, only not as far up. Scars on his chest, as well, showed where the power of the blast had embedded debris.
His life had changed in an instant by a roadside bomb. Both arms had been blown apart by the explosion. The speed at which they had moved him off the battlefield and a skillful surgeon had saved his life and his arms. He had lost some strength and dexterity and the scars would be there forever. But he thanked God every day that he was alive.
He didn’t realize it at the time, but God had brought a father replacement into his life in the form of a caring drill sergeant, who helped him find his sobriety while still in boot camp. But it wasn’t until his tour in Iraq and the accident that his understanding of God had changed. When he was in rehab staring at a hospital ceiling, he had found the fait
h that his grandparents had modeled summer after summer. Like his grandfather, he didn’t talk much about his faith, though he felt it deeply.
Keith wiped the sweat from his brow and stared at the eagle soaring in the immense painted sky. Despite his attempts to forget, he did remember Jenna; and now every detail of their summers together came at him like a flood. He hadn’t thought he would ever see her again. He had assumed she would leave for college and never come back. There was nothing to keep her in this dinky town. Her mom had died when she was two and though she’d been close to her father, the man had always encouraged her to follow her dreams.
He had come back to Hope Creek for two reasons: to make amends to his grandparents for the damage he had done when he was seventeen, and for the solitude. Iraq had been more than he had bargained for. He needed time to sort through his life and find his bearings again. Jenna hadn’t been on the agenda. How was it possible that with all that had happened, the dormant attraction could be revived just by seeing her?
Keith rose to his feet and picked up his brush. Maybe he should just paint over that eagle. He stood back to examine his work. No, the bird looked right flying up there in the huge sky. He dipped the tip of his brush in the blue and mixed it with white.
Someone rapped gently on the outside door. Who on earth would be knocking at this hour? Keith’s chest tightened. Maybe there had been an emergency with Gramps or Grandma.
He grabbed his long-sleeved shirt and raced over to the door.
When the door swung open, Keith’s jaw dropped, and he took a step back. “Jenna. What are you doing here?”
THREE
Keith’s reaction to the sight of her was a lot calmer than she had expected, considering the hour. He seemed surprised, but not displeased to see her. Even though he was barefoot, it didn’t look like he had been sleeping. Streaks of paint decorated the thighs of his faded jeans. His brow glistened with sweat, yet he wore a long-sleeved shirt.
“Someone broke into the center…and into my house. They left this note on the computer.” The trembling in her hands made the sheet waver.
Keith took the piece of paper she’d printed out.
“I know it’s late, but I thought you should see that.” Jenna’s legs were still wobbly, and her stomach had tied itself into knots. Right now, it didn’t feel like she would ever eat again.
Keith read the note. His expression hardened. “Did you tell the sheriff?”
“Both him and his deputy are over there right now. They let me go after I answered their questions. They could see I was upset, and they asked me if there was anyone who…”
He reached out and brushed a hand over her cheek. “You don’t look so good. Do you want to come inside?”
Like breath on a window, the warmth of Keith’s touch faded slowly. He was the first person she’d thought of when the fear over the vandalism had overwhelmed her. Even if the incident didn’t involve the King Ranch, she would have craved his calming influence. As though a day hadn’t passed, she had slipped into the old patterns of their relationship.
Though she was curious about where he lived, it was enough of an imposition to show up at this hour. “I don’t need to come inside. Sorry to bother you this late. I just thought you should know, since it concerns your grandparents’ place.”
He relaxed his posture and leaned against the door frame. “How did you know I was up here?”
“It was the only part of the house with lights on.” Her hand fluttered to her neck, where her pulse was racing. She hadn’t calmed down even after the drive over. Whoever had broken into the raptor center and her house had succeeded in their attempt to scare her by threatening to harm the birds at the center. She was furious at the threat, but she was also scared. Very, very scared.
Keith ran his hands through his wavy brown hair, then slapped the note with his hand. “Don’t tell my grandparents.” Strength returned to his voice, and he lifted his head. “Grandma and Gramps shouldn’t have to deal with something like this.”
“Good thing you are here to help.” The protective stance he had taken toward his grandparents was admirable. She found herself wishing he had been at the center earlier. He would have known what to do with the intruder. Maybe if Keith had stayed awhile to visit, there wouldn’t have been a break-in at all. Though she tried not to, mental images of birds fluttering wildly and the note on her laptop made her legs wobbly all over again.
Keith stepped toward her. “You look kind of pale. Are you sure you don’t want to come in and sit down?”
Jenna stepped across the threshold. “It’s kinda hot in here.”
“Not much ventilation,” he said.
She moved back outside and turned on the tiny landing. “I think the cool night air would be the best thing for me.” She was surprised that after all these years, he was still keenly tuned in to her emotional state. Surprised and flattered.
They had learned to read each other while rock climbing the last summer they were together. As climbers, they had always gone out in a group, but Jenna had proved to be his best climbing partner. Keith had been mentored by an older climber the year before. The next summer, their last summer together, he had taught Jenna. Because their lives depended on it, they had become adept at knowing not only what their climbing partner would do physically while hanging from a cliff face, but how their emotional states affected them. She wondered what he was reading from her now. She felt so anxious and confused, she didn’t know what to do. But his presence was making it better.
She stared up at the sky. Pulsating stars and wispy clouds accented the black dome above her. Strength returned to her limbs. She wasn’t shaking anymore.
Keith rested his back against the railing, lacing his hands together over his lean stomach. He looked up. “It is peaceful out here, isn’t it?”
“Always calms me down.” She took in a deep breath of fresh night air. “Better than therapy.” She bent her head, tracing the dark outline of the jagged mountains and flat buttes against the lighter shade of sky. Off in the distance, a light blipped and disappeared. She pushed herself off the railing. “What was that?”
Keith leaned toward her. “What?”
“Over there by those buttes. I think I saw a light.” She squinted and took a step toward the opposite railing, cupping her hands over the rough wood of the two-by-four. “I’m pretty sure I saw something. Do you have a pair of binoculars?”
“I can find some.” Keith stepped into the huge room, opened a couple of bureau drawers and lifted a coat and sweater as Jenna peered inside. Artificial light gave the space a warm glow. The place was free of clutter. Keith seemed to desire a bare bones existence. A black German shepherd settled in the corner.
She took a step inside. “I didn’t know you had a dog.” The shepherd lifted his head but remained in the bed.
Keith opened a cupboard. A dorm-size refrigerator and double burner resting on counter space indicated that the area functioned as a mini kitchen. “That’s my buddy, Jet.”
Jenna took another step inside. Two paintings, both landscapes, caught her eye. They were places she knew well, a river and a mountaintop no more than a few miles away. Was Keith aware that he was painting their childhood haunts?
“Found them.” Keith pulled a pair of binoculars from a lower cupboard.
She retreated to the balcony and turned her attention back to the area where she had spotted the light. Nothing caught her eye. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something or someone was out there.
Keith’s bare feet padded lightly on the wood floor. Once outside, he handed her the binoculars.
She leaned toward him and pulled the binoculars up to her face. She adjusted focus and scanned the landscape filled with shadows. “I saw what looked like a glowing light.”
Keith surveyed the tiny landing and then looked up. “Maybe if we get higher.” He tested the railing by shaking it. “I’ll climb first and then pull you up.”
He jumped on the railing and flipp
ed himself on the roof with the deftness of an Olympic gymnast. He turned and stared down at her. “Your turn.”
Already, her heart was racing. As a young girl she had had a fear of heights. Keith had helped her overcome that, but she was out of practice. The old fears were back. She handed him the binoculars first and then crawled on the railing. “This brings back some memories.”
“We never climbed houses.” There was something guarded about the statement.
“Just rock cliffs, right?” Her life would have gone on a completely different trajectory if she hadn’t met Keith when she was ten. Like her father, who was the town’s librarian, she’d spent most of her time with her face buried in a book. She had always loved nature, but Keith’s desire to teach her to kayak and climb had awakened her sense of adventure. If it hadn’t been for him, she probably would have ended up working in a lab somewhere instead of running the rescue center. And she definitely wouldn’t be here, about to climb on the roof of a house, looking for answers to a mystery.
“You’re going to have to stand on that railing,” he coaxed.
“I know.” Her hands were sweating.
Keith pushed himself to the edge of the roof. “My hand is right here.”
She eased to her feet, finding her balance by resting a hand on the wall. Whether showing her how to rock climb or build a campfire, he’d been a patient teacher. Jenna lifted her head and locked into Keith’s gaze. She reached for him. He gripped her wrist. The warmth of his touch permeated her skin to the marrow. “I’m dizzy.”
“I’m right here. Other hand. Let go of the wall, Jenna,” he soothed.
He pulled her up and into his arms in one easy movement. She scooted toward him and away from the edge of the roof. Her hand rested on his chest. Beneath the softness of the cotton shirt, his heart pounded out a raging beat. She bent her head, out of breath. “I never did learn to like heights.” The truth was that when she was hanging from a mountain, if it had been anyone else beside Keith holding the rope, she probably wouldn’t have been able to climb.
