The Return Of Cord Navarro

by Vella Munn

  “Go back inside,” he said as he came close. “There’s no reason for you to get wet.”

  “Isn’t there?” she retorted. She hadn’t known she was angry until the words burst from her, but maybe the truth was that anger had nothing to do with what was happening to her. Unable to meet his intense gaze, she held her hands out palms-up so she could catch some of the raindrops. “He’s out there, somewhere. Standing in this.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  He balanced the backpack effortlessly on his left shoulder. His free hand hung by his side and yet she felt herself being drawn to it. “Don’t do this to yourself, Shannon,” he said. “Worrying about him won’t change anything.”

  “What do you want me to do? Pretend he’s at a sleep-over with a friend? He isn’t.” She glared at him, felt his dark eyes begin to absorb her, forced herself to study what she could see of the horizon. “He might be lost. No matter how good he thinks he is, he might be lost.”

  “Don’t,” Cord repeated. Without asking, he grasped her wrist and led her back up the steps. Once they were on the porch, he set down his burden and pulled her around until she was forced to look up at him. “The night was hard for you. I’m sorry it had to be like that with nothing to think about except Matt.”

  She’d thought about a lot more than their son, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “The inactivity got to you, but it’s morning now. I’ll find him. He’ll be all right. I want you to believe that.”

  I want to believe in you, Cord. To trust completely. But it isn’t that simple. Life never is. “Is that what you tell everyone?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm. “That you’ll find whoever you’re looking for?”

  “No. Not always.”

  She should ask him to explain himself, but something in his tone warned her that this wasn’t ground she wanted to tread on this morning. Although she knew it wasn’t wise, she looked down at her trapped hands, her safe and secure hands. Cord Navarro, a man with a skill unrivaled by any other, had promised her that nothing bad would happen to her—their—son and she wanted to believe him.

  “It’s the rain,” she admitted after too long a silence. “If it wasn’t raining—”

  “It’ll make finding him harder.”

  Don’t say that, she thought even as she nodded to let him know she understood. Looking up, she struggled to find something brave and optimistic to say. But his midnight eyes were on her, reaching into her.

  Although it was the most dangerous thing she could do, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him. She expected, half hoped that he would push her away. Instead, he folded her into him and held her tight and safe against his wet but warm body. An unsteady breath brought her the scent of shampoo and soap and something else, some memory of smells hidden under seven years of separate living.

  Beyond all reason, she wrapped her arms around him and lay her cheek on his chest. Despite her heart’s unsteady and unwanted pounding, she heard his own heart beating—beating strong. This man, who’d given her two children, a roof over her head, a reason—once—for living, became her world again. It wouldn’t last; it was illusion and delusion, but she would grab it for what it was this stormy morning and take strength from him.

  He ran his hand up and down her back, pressing when he reached the base of her spine. He must have meant the gesture to be comforting; certainly he wasn’t interested in eliciting any other response from her. But she had no control over what was happening to her, no way of denying the deeply buried woman who, after all these years, wanted him.

  Wanted?

  No!

  Hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was shaking, she pushed away until he was no longer touching her. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “You’re right. I had too much time for thinking last night. It won’t happen again.”

  Chapter 4

  Shannon had gone inside ahead of him. By the time he’d placed his backpack on the office floor, she’d left the room. Forcing himself to concentrate on what was automatic and essential about his job, he inventoried his food supply, satisfying himself that he had enough of what could be eaten on the move. He gave the rest of his equipment a quick check. It wasn’t full daylight yet, but he should already be under way. He would be if he had only himself to consider.

  Standing, he cocked his head to one side and listened, but couldn’t determine where Shannon had gone. Maybe she was deliberately keeping quiet so she wouldn’t disturb him from what he needed to concentrate on. Or maybe she’d decided to distance herself as much as possible from him.

  He wouldn’t blame her. After all, she couldn’t have wanted that embrace any more than he had. Except, he admitted with customary frankness, he had wanted to feel her against him. Had needed to touch and be touched. If he’d taken anything from the years he’d spent married to Shannon, it was the knowledge that he wasn’t an island, a solitary human being, after all. He needed to belong to someone. Except for Matt, he hadn’t found anyone.

  There, a sound. Following it, he found himself standing at the entrance to Matt’s bedroom. Shannon was in there, her back to him as she stared into the jammed and jumbled closet. Some emotion had wrenched the moaning sound from her a few moments ago; he knew that instinctively.

  It was a boy’s room, complete with sports posters, cowboy boots, a mound of clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, a stack of nature magazines on a small desk under the window. Matt had told him that his mother had bought him the desk to do his schoolwork on but he preferred to work at the kitchen table closer to his mom. Now the desk held two footballs and a helmet, comic books, a hammer, screwdriver, and pliers. Cord saw something else—the compass he’d given him two years ago. Now Shannon was staring at it, too.

  “I’m trying to determine what he took with him,” she said, not looking at him. “The backpack frame you gave him is gone. So is his sleeping bag and ground cover.”

  He’d given Matt all of those things.

  “But not the compass,” she continued. “He didn’t understand why you’d sent it to him. After all, he said, you never use one.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  She spun toward him. In the shadowed room, he could barely make out her features and nothing of her thoughts. “He wants to be exactly like you, to find his way with the stars and sun. But he doesn’t have your...your instinct.”

  It wasn’t instinct. At Gray Cloud’s side he’d learned to be at home in the wilderness, something he hadn’t been able to teach his son yet because they weren’t together enough. Besides, maybe Matt would never need the skills that were vital to his career. Keeping his voice level, he told her that Matt might not need a compass depending on where he’d decided to go. He didn’t say that father’s instinct was telling him Matt wouldn’t stay on the beaten path.

  “What else did he take?” he asked. “Can you tell?”

  “Food, a lot of it. When he was getting ready to leave yesterday, I teased him about how much he was packing.” She blinked and he thought he detected a hint of moisture in her eyes. “Cord, he had more than enough food for two boys for a couple of days. Alone...”

  Alone he might be able to survive without hardship for the better part of a week, but Matt had told Kevin to let Shannon know he’d be gone only two nights. He reminded her of that now.

  Shannon stood next to Matt’s bed, her fingers resting lightly on the pillow. Now that he’d gotten used to the lamplight, he was able to make out much more of her, her practical jeans and boots, the loose cotton shirt that clung damply to her generous breasts and accented her slender waist.

  “I can feel him in here,” she said. “I know it shouldn’t make any difference, but it makes me feel better. He’s such a mix, part of him still my little boy, the rest trying to be a teenager.”

  “That’s what growing up is about.”

  “I know,” she said with something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “But if he was still a toddler, he wouldn�
��t be in this predicament.”

  And we wouldn’t be standing here talking. I’d be out of your hair, your life. “You like challenges yourself,” he observed.

  “Yes, I do. But I’m also disgustingly practical. A taxpaying member of the middle class. I’m not a rock-headed ten-year-old with more energy and dumb determination than sense.”

  “Rock-headed?”

  “Stubborn. Strong-willed. Whatever you want to call it. Anyway—” She looked around, as if trying to reorient herself. “That backpack frame is his most prized possession. I can’t remember how many times he’s had me watch him walk around with it on. He says the fit and balance is just right, that he...that he could hike all day with it on his back and not get tired.”

  He wanted to comfort her and again reassure her that everything was going to turn out all right, but he couldn’t concentrate on that with what she’d just told him making its impact. Something he’d sent Matt was his prize possession.

  “Cord, look.”

  She had gone back to the closet and was pulling out a tightly wrapped tent—the domed model he and Matt had picked out together the Christmas before last.

  “And he didn’t take his propane stove, either,” she continued. “No tent. No stove. What was he thinking?”

  Cord leaned against the doorjamb, easily imagining Matt sleeping in this room. “I bought him the tent and stove so he could go camping with his friends, but he knows I don’t use either of those things.”

  She seemed to sway a little. “In other words, he wants to do everything you do the way you do. Walk around without a compass. Sleep under the stars—or in the rain. Eat nothing but cold food. Damn you, Cord.”

  There was no anger behind Shannon’s words, and he didn’t take offense. Instead, he was glad she’d been able to discharge a little of the tension she must be feeling.

  “Shannon—”

  “Don’t tell me he’s going to be all right. I don’t want to hear that when neither of us has any idea what he’s doing. Or where he is.”

  He’d been about to ask if Matt had been wearing riding or hiking boots, but didn’t. Instead he studied her standing in their son’s room and knew he would never forget the sight. Then he turned and walked back down the dark hall. He didn’t want to leave her in there alone, but she’d lived without him for the past seven years and didn’t need him for anything anymore—except to return her son to her.

  When she came out of Matt’s room, Shannon was again struck by how silent Cord could be. She’d long known he wasn’t a man for words, but it seemed that he could walk around in hiking boots without making a sound. For all she knew, he’d left the house.

  A bolt of fear tore through her and she hurried outside, not taking time to close the door behind her. If Cord had left without her—

  He hadn’t; hadn’t she all but tripped over the pack he’d left on her office floor? Even Cord had enough social grace and compassion and understanding not to disappear without telling her where he was going.

  But he wasn’t going anywhere by himself!

  A new fear, laced through with heavy determination, settled inside her. They hadn’t discussed today’s agenda. Certainly he planned to resume last night’s search; what she hadn’t told him was that she was committed to going with him. She didn’t care how much resistance he might throw at her. She was not going to endure any more of this doing nothing.

  “Shannon.”

  Although Cord’s voice came to her from some distance away, she still jumped. He was out in the corral, and she started toward him. The rain showed no sign of slackening, and if anything, the wind was stronger than it had been a few minutes ago. Soon she was soaked to the skin. For some unexplainable reason, she embraced the pure, lilting sound and the wind. “What?” she asked when she was close enough that she didn’t have to raise her voice.

  “What horses do you want to take?”

  Horses. As soon as she pointed out the two geldings she had in mind, Cord went after them. She now felt chilled in her dripping, oversize shirt and berated herself for not grabbing a jacket. Cord, however, seemed impervious to the weather.

  “You knew, didn’t you?” she said as she led one of the horses into the barn to be saddled and bridled while Cord brought the other. “That I was going with you.”

  “Yeah, I knew.”

  Did he want her to come? It didn’t matter. “What are we going to do? I don’t know how you can possibly track him with these conditions.”

  “It’ll make it harder—I won’t deny that. But I’ve done it before.” Picking up a large old towel she kept for such purposes, he started wiping off one of the gelding’s backs prior to saddling him. His movements were so practiced that she had to remind herself that he hadn’t been part of her business. He didn’t belong in this shadowed, hay-smelling barn; he wouldn’t be content spending hours in it the way she did. Still, maybe he now understood a little more of her world.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he continued. His voice echoed in the high-ceilinged space. “I want to run this past you and get your reaction. Matt told Kevin that he wants to prove himself to me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If that’s his intention, then he wants to give himself as much of a challenge as possible.”

  “I...guess.”

  “Guess?”

  “All right!” When her horse shied, she forced herself to lower her voice. “Yes, I think you’re right. But where—”

  “You said he’s fascinated by Arapaho. Last night I didn’t have the chance to really explore it. I want to go back there, look at it through his eyes.”

  If it had been anyone else speaking, she would have laughed at the possibility of seeing a demanding ski area through the eyes of a ten-year-old boy, but this was a man who made his living getting into other people’s heads before the terrain, elements, or their own limitations and stupidity killed them. He was also that ten-year-old boy’s father.

  “How long do you think it’s going to take?” she made herself ask.

  “I can’t tell you that. No one can.”

  “But you’ve done this before. You must have some kind of idea.”

  He did. The way his eyes darkened told her that. But instead of telling her what she probably didn’t want to hear anyway, he shrugged his competent shoulders and asked if she’d told her parents yet.

  “No,” she admitted. “Last night, well, I kept hoping you’d come back with him and there wouldn’t be any need. It’s so early. They might still be asleep.”

  “They have a right. And they’d want to be part of this, to help.”

  “I know. It’s just—they love him so, Cord. I don’t want to scare them.”

  “They’re strong people.”

  Yes, they were. Although Cord had been somewhat distant around her parents, probably a combination of his natural reserve and the belief that they held him responsible for their daughter becoming a mother at eighteen, he understood them better than she thought possible.

  In the end, he was the one who made the phone call.

  “Elizabeth,” Cord said while she stood a few feet away, “it’s Cord. I’m at Shannon’s house. Matt didn’t come home last night. We’re going after him.”

  He stopped talking and she could hear the murmur of her mother’s voice. A few moments later he basically repeated what he’d already said and then asked if they could come over and handle her business while they were gone. Closing her eyes, Shannon marveled at his ability to think of that when she should have been the one to plan for her absence. She opened her eyes again when he spoke her name. Taking the phone from him, she managed to mouth the lie that she wasn’t worried, just determined to get Matt home and dry. After some brief reassurances, she finally hung up.

  “You’re sure you don’t want anyone else out there with you—with us?” Shannon asked Cord. “Every time I hear about searches, especially when children are missing, half the people in the county are involved.”

  He’d been s
tanding off to one side with his arms folded across his chest while she spoke to her parents. Now he fastened his fingers around her elbows and pulled her close. She looked up at him, seeing what the past seven years had done to his once boyish features. “This is different.”

  “How? Because it’s your son? If you’re worried that your reputation will be damaged if people learn that your son is the one they’re—”

  “It’s not that.”

  Of course it wasn’t. She had no business saying that. “Then, what is it? Cord, I don’t know how you run your business any more than you know how I handle mine. But I’m all too aware of how vast, how isolated this area is. I’d think you’d want as many eyes and ears out there as possible. Is it—you don’t want to waste time getting people together?”

  “Half the people in the county can’t do any more than I can alone.”

  “You’re that sure of yourself?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.

  “I know what I’m doing, Shannon. The question is, do you trust me?”

  His question was impossible; surely he understood that. Hadn’t she once trusted—expected—him to support her and Matt? But instead of keeping his factory job with its steady paycheck, he’d gone to the county sheriff, the state police, the forest service, anyone who might have a use for his skills. She’d been so afraid of the uncertainty facing them that she’d taken a part-time job in addition to her college courses. But he wasn’t asking her to step into the past. He needed to know whether she believed he would find their son.

  “If anyone can find Matt, it’s you.”

  He nodded at that and released her. Although she was now free to back away from him, she remained where she was and breathed in the smell of wet cotton and denim. She wanted him to tell her that her trust was well placed and he wouldn’t fail her. But he didn’t. Instead he told her what she needed to bring in the way of clothes, and because they couldn’t leave until she’d done that, she turned and started toward her room. Her back between her shoulder blades felt warm, as if they’d been touched by him. But then, maybe it was only because she needed the contact—a contact he couldn’t give her.