The Lost Tayamu (The Legends of Kiamada Book 1)

by Ben Cass

  They all offered greetings as Jen opened the door. She sniffed appreciatively, the smell of bacon and eggs hitting her nose first. The smells of pancakes, grits, and hot biscuits wafted over her, making her mouth water. She’d worked up an appetite from her jog.

  Jen glanced up at the bar and saw another guest there, one she hadn’t seen here before. She could only see his back, but that was enough. The tank top offered a good view of the chiseled frame and his height was obvious. Coach Doyle.

  Ellie was right: his body. He must live in the gym.

  Jen paused, debating whether to go sit next to him or find a spot in a booth somewhere. Finally, she shrugged. Suck it up, Jen. He’s just another guy. Yeah, just another hot guy, who happened to save your life yesterday. She walked over to the bar and sat down beside Doyle, on his right. “My usual, please, Kimmy,” she said to the proprietor, a graying woman who was always smiling. Doyle looked up, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “Miss Aston! What a pleasure to see you up and about.”

  “Please, call me Jen. I don’t like people my age calling me ‘Miss’.” She gave Doyle an arched eyebrow and an innocent smile, getting a soft chuckle in return. Jen accepted the tall glass of milk from Kimmy, raising it to Doyle. He raised his own glass of milk to her in salute, and they clinked glasses before drinking. Jen noticed a nasty-looking scar, probably seven inches long, running down his bicep. “That must have hurt,” she said, her fingers lightly brushing it, tracing the discolored skin along the muscle. She jerked her hand back when she realized what she had done, but Doyle just glanced at his arm and shrugged.

  “I don’t even remember getting it, to tell you the truth. I do remember looking down and seeing the bloody gash on my arm. I had no idea I was injured. Didn’t even feel it.”

  “Let me guess...climbed a tree when you were a boy and fell out, right?”

  Doyle shook his head.

  “No. Combat wound.” Jen raised an eyebrow and he elaborated. “Well, I wasn’t always a coach, you know. Up to a few years ago, I was in the...Special Forces, I guess you would call it here in the States. I got gashed open during a skirmish.” He finished his milk and wiped his mouth with the napkin.

  Jen was impressed. “A military man? No wonder the girls all like you.”

  Doyle waved it off. “None of them know. I haven’t told anybody about it. Well, except you, I mean.” He looked around, obviously noticing the expressions on faces in the small diner. The sheriff openly stared at him, a look of realization blossoming on Bellsley’s face. “And everybody else here, too, apparently. You’d think I’d remember my voice carries easily, but no.” He waved at the sheriff. “Answer your question, Sheriff?” Bellsley gave a slight nod and raised his mug of coffee in salute. Kimmy appeared from the back with Jen’s breakfast. She set down the plate and left, smiling at the younger woman.

  Jen dug into her scrambled eggs. “Why don’t you talk about it?”

  Doyle fingered the scar absentmindedly. “It raises too many memories I’d rather forget.”

  “Like what?” Jen instantly regretted the question. “Sorry. None of my business.” She wolfed down another bite of eggs, savoring the flavor. Kimmy made them with milk and shredded cheese, and they were always divine.

  Doyle smiled, but there was pain behind it. “I’ve already told you more than I’ve told anybody else before.” He raised his glass and examined it critically. “I don’t recall ordering truth serum. I’ll have to contact somebody about that. Is there a phone number for the FDA?”

  “No, no. That was rude of me. Forget it.” Jen had already finished off her eggs and was now turning her attention to the pancakes and bacon.

  Jen finished her breakfast in silence. Doyle seemed lost in his own thoughts, a small, almost sad smile playing at his lips. She sat back and sighed contentedly. “You’ve got to love the food here,” she declared. Kimmy smiled at her and took her plate. “Now for the long walk home.”

  “I doubt it’s that long,” replied Doyle. “From what I’ve seen, this town isn’t very big. Pretty sure you could fit its map onto a postage stamp and still have room.” Jen laughed and agreed with him. “Makes it easy for me to get around. I’ve gotten lost in every other city I’ve stayed here in the States.”

  “Where do you live?” asked Jen. Doyle looked at her curiously.

  “I thought every single woman in town knows where I live,” he answered. “This IS Groverton, isn’t it? Small place, everybody knows everything about everybody else, people walk down the streets with fishing poles and take turns whistling?” Jen rolled her eyes, but had to grin. He had a point.

  “I’m not like the other single women,” she replied—casually, she hoped. What is with me? she silently wondered. I’m NEVER like this!

  Doyle smiled. “Thank goodness for that. I like you the way you are. Anyway, I live over on Ebson Street.”

  Jen stared at the wall, placing the location in her mind. “All farmland out there. Only three or four houses, tops.” She looked up at him, eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me you’re a farmer, too.”

  Doyle held up his hands. “No way. I just live on a lot of land. I don’t work it. My family members back home actually are farmers, but I never got into the lifestyle.”

  Jen wanted more information now; something about this man fascinated her. She ventured to say, “So you must have come in here the same direction I did.”

  Doyle raised an eyebrow. “And how did you come in?”

  Jen threw some money on the counter. “Follow me and I’ll show you.” Getting bold, aren’t you? she thought to herself. Doyle also tossed some bills next to her and stood up, offering a hand to help her up. She hesitated but accepted it. Bidding goodbye to the other patrons, they exited the cabin.

  They strolled along the forest path, chatting. A cool, gentle breeze gently kissed her skin. Somewhere in the trees, birds chattered back and forth.

  “I just love walking through here,” she said, spinning in a circle. “It’s so calm and peaceful.”

  “As long as you remember the hidden threats,” Doyle said, his eyes looking around. “The most beautiful places or things are often the most hazardous.”

  “Oh, Doyle, what could be so dangerous here? Aaaaaay!” Jen gasped in surprise as she was suddenly swept into Doyle’s arms and he jumped back several feet, holding her effortlessly. She looked up at his face and found him staring at the ground. Following his gaze, she looked down, then shuddered and nestled further into his arms, practically climbing up his chest. A large rattlesnake coiled up on the ground where she had been about to step.

  Before Jen could say anything, the snake struck, trying to bite Doyle’s leg. Somehow, he got out of range. The snake drew back and struck again. Doyle’s foot, impossibly, moved faster than the snake, striking the side of its head and knocking it several feet away. It lay there, not moving.

  “You were saying?” Doyle asked dryly. Jen looked back up at him again; he didn’t seem scared or worried, she noticed. Just watchful. As they walked down the path, Doyle’s grip on her loosened some. She hadn’t realized how tightly he had been holding her.

  “Thank you,” Jen managed to say. Realizing her hand was pressed against his chest and she was enjoying it, she snatched her hand away as if his body was a hot iron.

  “Should I put you down, or would you rather I carry you a little further?” he asked. His tone was quite serious; he was not joking. Jen realized she still felt a little shaky.

  “I’m okay,” she said hesitantly. “I think I can walk.”

  Doyle studied her closely.

  “Now be honest with me.”

  She looked into his eyes and found herself mesmerized. Those brownish-green irises were filled with concern for her.

  “Maybe just a little further,” she admitted. Doyle smiled.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He walked on, effortlessly carrying her. After a hundred feet or so, Jen felt better.

  “I’m good,” she said, although she realize
d she really didn’t want him to put her down. She wanted him to keep touching her. Doyle set her on her feet, but left his hand on her elbow, helping to steady her. She didn’t need it, and she thought he knew that, so maybe...

  “Thank you again,” she said, her heart racing. His teeth flashed in a grin.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “How did you manage to kick that snake away?” she asked curiously.

  Doyle crossed his arms, some of his fingers folded down, forming some kind of crazy hand signal. "I guess I just have mad, crazy skills," he said, grinning.

  Jen rolled her eyes. What a goofball! She found it endearing, somehow. "You realize nobody says that anymore, right? Or does whatever-the-hell that was with their fingers?”

  He shrugged. "Sure, but it sounds better than saying I learned it in the military." They walked on in silence for a short while.

  “So why did you join the military?” Jen asked suddenly, now watching the path carefully. “To see the world and serve your country?”

  Doyle gave a half-hearted smile. “Sort of. In some ways, I joined because of a girl.”

  “What girl?” Jen again realized she was prying and lightly smacked her palm against her forehead. “Ugh. Sorry. I seem to keep trying to stick my nose into your business.”

  Doyle shrugged.

  “Human curiosity. I can’t blame you for that.” He glanced over and, seeing the river through the trees, stepped off the path and headed for it. Jen altered her course as well. There was a large rocky overhang about five feet over the water. Doyle sat on it, his long legs dangling down, shoes only a couple of feet above the water. Jen sat beside him. He seemed lost in thought again.

  “This is one of those painful memories, I guess?” she asked gently, crossing her legs. Doyle stared into the water, his gaze distant and far away.

  “The painful memory, actually.” He looked over at her and she was surprised to see him intently studying her. “Without getting all mopey, let’s just say I ruined a girl’s life and I couldn’t live with that. I tried to lose myself in the service, but it didn’t work.”

  “You? Ruin somebody’s life? I have trouble believing that.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Jen brushed some hair out of her face. “Tell me.” He just sat there, so she reached out and lightly touched his arm. “Our secret.”

  Doyle picked up a twig and twisted it around in his hand. “We were sixteen years old, the same age your sister is now. I’d been secretly dating my girlfriend for a while. Two years? Three? I don’t remember. It all blurred together for me.”

  Jen’s eyebrow shot up. “Secretly dating? Where did you grow up that you had to date secretly?”

  “I’m not American, you know. I’ve been away from home for less than ten years. I grew up on a remote island, which still has—well, had, at least, although I doubt much has changed—anyway, there were some antiquated beliefs about society and not marrying outside your social order, so it was nice to find out there are places where that is considered ridiculous.”

  Jen could guess what was coming next, but she was still stuck on the island. That partially explained his complexion. “You’re an islander? You don’t sound like one. Bahamas? Virgin Islands?”

  Doyle rolled his eyes. “I said remote, not well-known. Any accent I had has been washed away over my time here.”

  “Washed away? Ugh.” Jen playfully shoved his shoulder after the awful pun. “Okay, so you were seeing this girl and I’m guessing you two were on opposite ends of the social spectrum.”

  He nodded. “My family was part of the farming community. Her family...wasn’t. Neither side would have approved, so we had to date secretly.”

  “It’s like Romeo and Juliet,” said Jen, smiling. Doyle didn’t smile back.

  “Mm. Anyway, a couple of days after our sixteenth birthday...”

  Jen interrupted again. “Our?”

  “Oddly, we had the same birthday. From what I understand, we were born at the exact same moment,” Doyle explained. “Anyway, on that day, I told her I loved her and couldn’t imagine spending my life without her.”

  Jen slowly blew out her breath. “Oh. To a sixteen-year-old girl, that could be either the most romantic thing she’s ever heard, or the most terrifying.”

  “The latter, in this case. She ran away from me, crying. I, naturally, was crushed. First love and all that stuff, you know. My sister came out looking for me and found me on the ground, sobbing. She tried to comfort me, but it wasn’t much help.”

  “You have a sister too?” Jen leaned forward. “Is she anything like you?”

  Doyle snorted in amusement. “Depends on the angle you’re looking from.”

  Jen stared at him, bewildered by his response. He finally explained, smiling, “We’re twins.”

  Jen smiled back. “Got it. The angle you’re looking from.” She sighed. “Do you like bad jokes or something?”

  He held his hands up in a guilty gesture. “Busted. Anyway, she lives in Ohio with her husband now, so I don’t get the chance to see her as often as I would like.” His slightly frosty tone told Jen his opinion on the husband, although his eyes had sparkled when he mentioned his sister.

  She leaned back, bracing herself on the rock with her arms. “How weird... you have a twin sister and the girl you loved had the same birthday as you two. That must be some kind of cosmic sign or something.”

  “I definitely thought so. My sister tried to tell me my love would come to her senses.”

  “I’m guessing she didn’t.”

  He shook his head and tossed the twig into the river. The current caught it and spun it around, carrying it out of sight. “No one ever saw her again. That very night, she completely vanished. No note, no message, nothing was left behind.”

  “And this makes you think you ruined her life?”

  Doyle drummed his long fingers on the rock. “How else can you explain it? I scared her so badly I drove her away. For all I know, she died somewhere, although I hope and pray it didn’t come to that. The world would be a much darker place.” He stared down into the water, looking but not seeing.

  Jen pushed his shoulder, turning his torso to face her. Doyle pulled his right leg up, crossing it over his left knee and leaning back on his elbows. “May I give you a woman’s point of view?”

  He shrugged. “Please do.”

  Jen locked her eyes onto his. “Speaking as somebody who was a teenage girl...it sounds like she wasn’t mature enough yet to deal with the situation. Remember, Doyle, at that age, girls have a hell of a lot going on, emotionally and hormonally. You’re a coach; you deal with teens every day, so this shouldn’t be news to you. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way you did. She took the selfish way out and ran from her problems, instead of facing them directly.” She rested a hand on his thigh. “You can’t blame yourself!”

  Doyle’s eyes flicked to the side for a brief second; she thought a small smile crossed his lips, but it was gone before she could be certain. He let out a huge sigh. “I know it’s not my fault, rationally. It’s just hard to let go emotionally, you know? Besides, I learned a lot in the military, so it’s not all bad.” He lapsed into silence, again watching the water flow by. Jen found it very peaceful sitting there; she couldn’t recall ever feeling quite so relaxed before. After a few minutes, she heard her name being called down the path. She snatched her hand from his knee as though from a hot skillet.

  “Jen? Hey, Jen, are you out here?”

  Ellie.

  Doyle was definitely smiling now. There was no hint of sadness left in his face, although there was—in Jen’s opinion—a little too much amusement.

  “She’s going to drive you crazy about this for the rest of the day,” he said, flapping his hand like a chattering mouth. Jen groaned.

  “I know. I can’t wait.” Her sarcasm was not lost on Doyle. He chuckled and stood.

  “Let’s see if I can’t save you a little bit of questioning,” he said. “Thanks f
or the talk, by the way. It was...helpful.”

  “Any time,” Jen replied, meaning it. “It’s been nice.” Doyle winked at her and took off jogging. A few seconds later, Jen heard Ellie’s voice again.

  “Coach Doyle! Have you seen my sister?

  Doyle managed to sound surprised at the question. “Elowyn? Good to see you. I’m sorry, you asked about your sister. Yes, in fact, I just saw her. She’s sitting on that big rock by the river.”

  “Amore Rock?” Jen could hear Ellie’s puzzlement, which was quickly echoed by Doyle.

  “The rock has a name?” he asked, genuine bafflement in his voice. “Who names a rock?”

  “Did somebody call me?” Jen yelled out, standing up. She jogged off to the path to see Ellie and Doyle standing a few feet away. “Doyle! What a surprise to see you here! Ellie, how’d you get here?”

  “I drove the car. I am almost seventeen, remember?” The chilly tone of voice obviously amused Doyle even further; Ellie was clearly angry about something, but Jen merely ignored the tone and Doyle’s expression, which was bordering on outright glee. He reached a hand up, ostensibly to scratch his beard, but she saw him hiding a smile behind it.

  “How can I forget when you constantly remind me?” Jen asked, rolling her eyes.

  “Can we go back to this rock for a moment?” Doyle inquired, lifting his shirt slightly and scratching his stomach. “You said it’s called what?”

  Ellie seemed distracted by the sight of his hand on his muscled abdomen, which Jen suspected was his intention. She fought to not react the same way as her younger sister. “The whosawatchit is where? Oh. Yeah. It’s called Amore Rock. Well, that’s what we teenagers call it, at least. You know, like love? It’s where guys take girls to make out and stuff.”