by H. L. Wegley
“Wrong question, Jeff. How much do you like me? Are two measly little conditions even worth—”
“Okay. I'll marry you regardless of your conditions. Uh … what are they?”
She loosened her seatbelt and swiveled to face him. “First, you must marry me within a month. I don't want to wait any longer than that.”
He circled her neck with his arms. “No objection. We can make that happen.”
She smiled warmly. “This is the best part. We must spend the first part of our honeymoon in the Bolan Peak lookout tower.”
“Allie … there's no running water and only an outhouse forty yards down the trail. What if the place is booked for the rest of the summer?”
“Jeff, we were just attacked by a drug cartel up there. People died. It was a war zone. That's been in all the newspapers and on TV. Do you really think anyone is going to rent it this summer?”
“You're probably right. We're the only two who'd still want the place.”
“And there are lots of reasons for me to want it. It's spectacularly beautiful and so much happened up there. My life was changed forever. I fell in love. We stayed there once and survived.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I can guarantee you this time will be much, much nicer.”
All of the sweetness, the goodness, and the beauty of Allie she had offered to him. “You know, you are pretty convincing.”
Jeff pulled her gently toward him. “Mi amor, we need to seal this deal.”
“Alright.” Allie pressed her lips against his.
“Hey, you two.” Cliff's voice.
He ignored it for the moment.
“Mi amor.” Allie whispered.
“Cliff, you and Wes are both fired as chaperones. We don't need you anymore.”
“You two need three or four chaperones the way you carry on.”
“Not anymore.” Allie cut in. “We're getting married in two weeks.”
Chapter 30
Allie Jacobs studied the lookout above them as Jeff braked his truck to a stop on the small dirt road. “Jeff, something is different. I don't remember—”
“Allie, everything is different. You're my bride and I—”
“Don't say it again.” She was nervous enough on her wedding night without Jeff's remarks. He enjoyed watching her blush.
“Yeah. Something is different, alright.” Jeff studied the tower from the driver's side window.
Allie opened her door and stood on the door frame looking over the top of the cab. “The lookout looks like a rainbow.”
“Oh, man,” Jeff moaned. “We've been had. I told Wes and Cliff we were spending three nights up here so they could watch the road. Come on. Let's see what kind of damage they’ve done.”
She followed Jeff from the truck to the trail and began the short, steep walk to the pinnacle of Bolan Peak where the lookout tower sat like a crown on the mountain. “They wouldn't ruin our wedding night, would they?”
“Ruin it? No. Just make it a little inconvenient.” He stepped in front of her after they rounded a large rock. Jeff glanced toward the tower then back at her. “You didn't happen to bring a hat pin, did you?”
“What are you talking about, Jeff Jacobs?” She stepped past him and gasped. “The whole thing is filled with balloons.”
“Like I said. You didn't happen to bring a hat pin, did you?”
A surge of anger brought heat to her cheeks. “I'll kill Wes when I see him.”
“Allie…”
She looked up at Jeff.
“You're so beautiful. Even when you're angry.”
Her anger evaporated like water on the Sahara. She smiled and shook her head. “So what are you planning to do about this?”
His lips inched closer to hers. “Maybe I should really make you mad so you could look even more—”
She poked his ribs. “Teasing and torment. Is that what I have to look forward to for the next sixty years?”
He took her hand and pulled her toward the lookout. “Sixty years? We can’t worry about the next sixty years when we’ve got sixty minutes of hard work to do or we won't even have tonight to —”
“You're doing it again, Jeff.”
“Sorry. Wait here. I've got an idea.”
Jeff ran back to the truck then returned with one of their packs in his hand. He opened it, rummaged through it, and pulled out a paring knife. He shoved the handle toward her. “Take it. I'll use my pocket knife.” Jeff opened the door to the lookout. Balloons of various sizes and nearly every color of the rainbow flowed out the door.
“Clear to the ceiling.” He shook his head, opened his pocket knife, and stabbed several of the bright colored intruders. “When I clear an opening, you take the right and I'll take the left side. Race you around the room.”
The staccato popping of balloons sounded similar to the assault rifles the cartel gunmen shot at them on this mountain. Allie buried that thought, stepped into the room, and buried the paring knife to the hilt into a big blue balloon.
The balloon popped and died. The race was on.
Twenty minutes later, she was drenched in sweat from her stabbing spree in the late afternoon heat trapped inside a glass-enclosed room. She stopped jabbing when her blows came uncomfortably close to Jeff.
“Careful, Allie. Let's clean out the center of the room now.”
She turned and raised her arm high to kill a large gray balloon in the middle of the room.
Jeff's hand clamped like a vice around her wrist. “Hold it. Let me move some of these balloons.” His arm swept away a cluster of bouncing balloons.
She drew a sharp breath. “I almost killed a bed.…our bed?”
“Yeah. Underneath a year's worth of Goodyear's production, Wes and Cliff actually left us something nice. Beats sleeping on that old bed frame.”
Allie's cheeks felt warm. Her arms circled Jeff's waist while she avoided his gaze. “Very nice. A queen-size inflatable bed.”
Jeff kissed her forehead and bent over the bed. “I'm going to inspect this seemingly nice bed for booby-traps.”
“They wouldn't?” she huffed, hands on her hips.
“I wouldn't bet on that.” He finished poring over the bed, then sat on it. “Comfy. Care to try it out, Allie?” His deep blue eyes peered into hers.
“How could you suggest… Jeff, I'm all hot and—”
“Really?”
“I meant that I'm sweaty and gross.”
He stood and clasped his hands behind her neck. “Sweaty, yes. But you're never gross. Not to me. Let's drive down to the lake, take a dip, and come back to watch the sunset.”
She pressed her cheek into his chest. “That sounds nice, very nice.”
An hour later, the sun sat on the Western horizon painting the coastal mountains orange, while the peaks around them turned a golden yellow.
Allie spread a folded blanket across a flat rock and sat on it. It made a comfortable seat on top of the world. She pulled Jeff down beside her.
He curled his arms around her. “There it goes, Allie. It's down. Now watch the colors change.”
She looked up at the indigo sky above them, sprinkled with bright sparkles of light. The twilight deepened the blue in Jeff's eyes. The sun, now over the horizon, turned the moon into a golden disk hanging over the eastern mountains. “It's so peaceful here tonight. Not like when we first met.”
“When we met, you were being chased.”
She leaned her head onto his shoulder. “Chased right into your arms. Chased by thugs. But I think God was chasing me all the time.”
“There's a song about thousands of years of chasing. It's by a guy named Andrew Peterson. I think you'd like it.” He smiled at her. “But, you know, at some point, you turned and started chasing the truth.”
“I caught the Truth, and He set me free. My family came here chasing freedom.” She looked into his eyes. “When you first saw me, I was running, chasing freedom, too. And look what I found.”
He looked down into her eyes. “I caught
what I've been chasing, too. You.”
She kissed him softly for the first time giving in to all the feelings pent up inside. “It's time to finish watching the sunset fade. The stars feel so close from up here, and the moon is twice his normal size. Let's watch together, and then we can see what happens after the chase.”
“After the Chase, that's a Christian acoustic group. I know you'd really like them because—”
She pressed her fingers over Jeff’s lips. “Hush, Jeff. We can make our own music.” Allie looked up at the stars then let her gaze slide down to the brilliant western horizon. “It’s incredible what a person finds when they’re truly chasing freedom.”
EPILOGUE
Allie steered her big SUV into a parking spot at The Old Mill in Redmond. “And that's how Jeff and I met and married. Then, about a year later, after Mama and Papa had settled in, Jeff and I moved here.”
Itzy popped her seatbelt off and leaned against the back of Allie's seat. “And Uncle Jeff was the best decaf wheat in the world, huh, Aunt Allie?”
“He was, Itzy. In fact, after they sent him home, his old coach made him go through all ten decathlon events just like he was in competition. His coach scored Jeff. He would have easily won the gold.”
A vaguely familiar sounding melody came from behind her. Allie twisted in her seat and looked back at KC.
Julia pointed toward KC's cell. “A Beethoven sonata for your ring tone? Seriously?”
Now, an unmistakable male voice accompanied the instruments. “Beethoven and Billy Joel,” KC said. “It's Brock calling … it’s a long story. But the men have only been on the course for an hour. They can’t be done yet.” She pressed the touch screen on her cell. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Obviously, she had turned on the speakerphone. What was that about?
“Kace, I've got some news to tell you, but first … you know what just happened to me?”
“Now how would I know that? Suppose you tell me.” An impish grin twisted KC's lips and she turned up the volume on the speakerphone.
“We’re on number five,” Brock said.
“An hour out. On number five. You're right on pace, Brock. But what happened? You didn’t you try to drive across that big old canyon, did you?”
“Of course. Kace, I crossed the canyon and the ball dropped right onto the green. But those Juniper trees block your view from the tee. I could have sworn the ball landed right at the pin.”
“Did you end up in that nasty sand trap?” KC’s voice dripped with melodramatic sympathy.
“No. Well, I don't know. My golf ball disappeared.”
“Sweetheart, you weren’t swearing were you?”
“Come on, Kace. I don't talk like that. But this was my first chance to par this hole—maybe get a birdie or even an eagle.”
KC grinned and winked at Allie. “Brock, I hope you're not accusing me of throwing your ball into the canyon.”
“It’s that kid.” Jeff’s voice. “There he goes, Brock.”
“Yeah. A scrawny little redheaded kid.” Steve's voice, now.
“And he's got my golf ball. Stop him, Jeff.”
“Why me, Brock?”
“You’re the Olympian. Run that kid down and make him put my ball back on the green. Hold it, Jeff. The kid’s coming back with my golf ball. Wait a minute, kid! No, kid! Don't do that! Please!” A blast of static came through KC’s cell. “He did it.” Brock's voice trailed off in a pitiful whimper.
“Don't tell me he threw it into Crooked River Canyon, sweetheart.” KC paused. “Brock … Brock … What are you doing? Don’t hurt him.”
“Mister, it wasn't your ball. It wasn’t your ball.” The distant, pleading voice of a young boy came through the speakerphone. “See, here's your golf ball … the Noodle 3 you were playing.”
“If that's my ball, suppose you tell me where my drive ended up? I might have eagled that hole, but now it'll never be considered legitimate.”
“But, Mr. Daniels, I marked your ball. See the orange marker?”
“A foot from the hole? Kid are you—”
“He's telling the truth, Brock,” KC said. “What goes around comes around.” KC giggled. “I made Jimmy promise to mark your ball if you hit the green. And you’d better not hurt him. He’s the course marshal’s grandson.”
“You really did set me up. I'm going to kill you, Kace.”
“Can't you take a joke, sweetheart?”
Julia broke out in hysterical laughter.
Allie joined her.
Itzy sat wide-eyed with her mouth open.
“Now you know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of your childhood pranks.”
“But they were all your idea, KC. Evidently, they still are,” Brock growled.
How angry was Brock? Maybe Allie should try to defuse things. “Brock, didn't you tell KC you had some news for her?”
“Yeah.” A heavy sigh, accompanied by static, whistled from the speakerphone. “But now I'm not sure KC deserves to watch me pitch in Seattle tomorrow night.”
KC sat up in her seat. “They called you up from Tacoma, really?”
“Yep. Langford pulled a groin muscle in the All-Star game last night, so I'm their closer when we start up after the break. If I do well, this could last a while.”
“Do well? You've closed ten times for the Rainiers and your ERA is zero … nada. Only gave up a broken-bat single.”
“But this is a different level, Kace. Not Triple-A ball. And you know who's going to be there tomorrow night?”
“All of us, I hope.”
“Yeah. I got six tickets. But someone else will be there, too. Somebody who just got transferred to JBLM.”
“Captain Craig? Craig's really going to be there?”
“Yeah. Except it's Major Craig, now. And, get this, he's bringing his redheaded girlfriend with him. Kace, he—”
“Don't say it, Brock. I knew what he was really asking that night in the RV Park. But I was already taken. You just finish your round. We’ll shorten up our shopping so we can all get back to Julia's and pack for our trip to Seattle. Who are the Mariners playing?”
“The Rangers. We're right behind them in the standings. One game out of first place.”
“Brock, how much are they paying you for this?”
“Minimum wage, Kace. These days that’s about $3,000 a game. But if I can just—”
“You will, sweetheart. You were born to do this. We’ll be praying for a close game so the Mariners will need a closer. And major league baseball is about to see something it's never seen before.”
“What’s that, KC?” Julia opened the door and slid out with Itzy right behind her.
Itzy ran around to the passenger side of the SUV.
“A one-hundred-ten mile-per-hour fastball.” KC opened the passenger-side front door, still holding her cell.
Allie slid out of the driver’s seat. “We’re going to see baseball history in my first ever major league game.” She looked down the walkway in front of her SUV.
Three twenty-something guys walked their way, eyes roving all over Allie and Julia.
They were only looking at this point, but Allie couldn’t let it go further or this might become a very unpleasant shopping experience. She opened her mouth to address the leader of the three men, but closed it when KC spoke.
“Brock, three guys are walking our way and they seem overly interested in Allie and Julia.”
“Evidently, they can’t see you, Kace.”
“I’m on the other side of the car.”
The tall leader of the group spoke. “You ladies look like you need some company. How about joining us for the concert at the amphitheater?”
Julia looked at Allie, frowned, and shook her head.
Brock’s voice squawked through the speakerphone. “Kace, just walk around and stop beside Allie.”
“What is this? Payback for the golf ball prank?”
“Just do it.”
The leader of the three men too
k a step toward Allie. “Well, how about it, ladies?”
KC strode around the SUV, cell phone by her ear, and planted herself between the man and Allie.
As KC’s red curls blazed in the sun, one of the two men in back whistled.
The other man grabbed the whistler’s shoulder. “Do you know who she is?” He nodded toward KC.
“Oh, man. It’s KC Banning.”
“You mean KC Daniels. And I’ll bet it’s Brock Daniels she has on that cell phone. These three women and their men wiped two detachments of special forces, maybe more.”
The leader took a step backward. “Sorry to have bothered you ladies. Have a nice day.” They strode away pointing accusing fingers at one another.
Allie laughed. “You know something, we're probably the best-protected women in the U.S. Steve can kill you in at least four dozen different ways. Brock can stone a person to death with one rock, and Jeff can run a person down, jump on them or spear the bad guys with a javelin.”
Julia giggled. “Then there’s KC’s reputation.”
Allie rubbed her stomach which had gone queasy again. “I could puke on them.”
“Ebola puke,” Itzy said. “It’s real dangerous.”
“You got that right.” KC mussed Itzy’s hair and looked at Julia. “And you’ve got two notches on your gun.”
Allie scanned the faces of her two friends, friends who had grown as close as sisters. “After all we’ve been through together, and considering the men God brought into our lives, whether we’re being chased by a rogue president or we’re chasing freedom, I’d say we are safe against all enemies.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES
While reading Chasing Freedom, you may have noticed differences (from books 1 and 2) in my writing and the story structure. If so, it’s probably because Chasing Freedom was my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) story written four years ago—55,000 words penned in less than four weeks.
I’ve learned a lot about the craft of fiction since that time, but could only bend the story a certain amount without breaking it. Of my seven novels published so far, Chasing Freedom is my wife, Babe’s, favorite. However, I still see a slightly flawed story when I read it. But such stories can still be enjoyable and I hope you found it so.
