Winter's Destiny

by Nancy Allan

  Dallas grunted. “If you find him, let me know.” The nurse caught his tone of voice and raised an eyebrow.

  Dallas followed her to a curtained cubicle. She parted the curtain so he could step through and closed it behind him. He stood beside the stretcher. Amy was still, her eyes closed; an intravenous solution dripped into a vein in her hand, an oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose. Her arms and hands were lathered with a jelly-like substance. A reddish-purple lump grew from her forehead and one eye was swollen and purple. She must have heard him because her eyes opened immediately.

  Dallas shook his head. “You look terrible.”

  Amy pulled the oxygen mask away and tried to speak. “My grandfather?” Her voice was raw.

  “We don’t know yet, and we probably won’t for a while.”

  She closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she asked, “Pull back one curtain, please. I don’t like being closed in.”

  Surprised, Dallas reached around and opened the curtain. He looked back to find her staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably.

  Amy tried again to speak. “The paramedics told me you went into the burning house and got me out just as the roof caved in.” She swallowed. “Can’t believe you did that.”

  Dallas raised his brows meaningfully. “You going in there was a little crazy, you know that, right?”

  She cringed. “Somebody had to.”

  That Dallas understood.

  Her eyes never left his face. “But you didn’t have to.”

  He stepped away from the stretcher. “Get some rest. I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything.”

  “Sheriff?”

  He turned around to see her trying to get up. “Don’t get up—”

  “I can’t stay here. Please, I have to get back there.”

  He pushed her gently back onto the stretcher. “Come on now, you keep that up and they’ll hog-tie you to the damned thing. You know how they get in here when you don’t do what you’re told.”

  “I can’t stay here. Please.”

  “You’re in no shape to be released. Now, lie back. I’ll stop by tomorrow and see how you’re doing.” He dropped his cap back on his head and seeing her settle back down, he slid the oxygen mask back in place and headed off.

  He had driven most of the way back to Sanville when his cell phone rang. “Wayburne.”

  “Sheriff, it’s Sandra in Emergency. Sorry to call on your cell, I know you’re off duty, but it’s about Amy Johnson.”

  Worried, he asked, “What is it?”

  “She’s gone. We’ve checked most everywhere. A couple of people in the waiting room saw a woman who looked like Amy, slip out the front door.”

  Dallas cursed and yanked on the wheel, made a U-turn, and headed back toward the hospital.

  Sandra continued, “The thing is, we’re not sure how she can stand up, let alone walk, considering the amount of sedation and pain meds she’s been given. After you left, we increased the dosage.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Dallas was three blocks from the hospital when he spotted Amy walking unsteadily down the shoulder of the road. He pulled up beside her and lowered his window. “What do you think you’re doing? You have any idea how far it is back to Sanville?”

  “Can make it. Better ‘n the hospital.” Her words were slurred.

  Dallas jumped out, grabbed her arm, and steered her around to the passenger door.

  He helped her inside and headed to the US 101. “Where do you want to go? It’s not safe to be at your house. In fact, that’d be crazy. Do you have any friends you can stay with?”

  Amy shook her head. “No.” Dallas was thoughtful. “I have a cabin up in the mountains, about an hour from here. You’re welcome to use it. You’d be safe there.”

  “That’s—nice, but I have to go back—to my grandfather’s. I have to know.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for your grandfather.”

  Amy sighed. “Should get my Jeep.”

  “It’ll be fine where it is. You’re in no shape to drive anyway.”

  “Do I have any other—options?”

  “Guess not. Dallas turned south onto the US 101. They drove in silence and Amy dozed. A while later, Dallas turned inland, drove twenty-five minutes, then engaged the four-wheel drive, and worked the pickup up a steep incline to a level clearing. Dallas helped Amy out of the truck and guided her across the clearing. She shivered in the cold night air, so he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, before climbing an uneven path toward a dark structure nestled in the trees. Her feet kept slipping on the rocky path. “Oh, help, sorry, oops. Where are we? Dallas?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Where?”

  “Right here. Give me your hand.”

  “Whoops!”

  He reached down to help her up. “Hang on to my arm.”

  “Okay. Where’re we?”

  “Almost there.”

  “Where’s there?”

  “My cabin. Remember?”

  “No,” she said. “Don’t see anything.”

  “You will.” Dallas unlocked the front door and they went inside; the air was cold and smelled like cedar.

  Amy waited while Dallas lit the butane lamps. Yellow light filtered through the building and she looked around in a haze. Dallas saw her curiosity. “Hand-built,” he told her. “My dad and I. One and a half stories of rough-hewn, split lumber and timbers. It’s simple enough. The main level is just what you see: living area, a rustic eat-in kitchen, and you’ll be happy to know there’s even indoor plumbing. Bathroom’s over there,” he said, pointing to an open door off the kitchen.” He saw her look back at the narrow staircase off the living room. “Goes up to the loft,” he told her, pulling out a chair in the kitchen and helping Amy into it.

  “We built the place a few years ago,” he explained. “Dad thought of himself as a pioneer of sorts. Wanted to be self-sufficient, so there’s no electricity. The heat comes from the oil stove and the fireplace.” Dallas lit a long match and dropped it into the stove. He waited for the oil to ignite, then dropped the lid back down, filled a kettle with water, and placed it on the stovetop to eventually boil. “Dad might have taken the pioneer spirit too far because we originally didn’t have running water. Mom made him change that fast.” He saw that Amy was still shivering, so he went into the living room and reached into the woodbin for kindling. “Won’t take long for the stove and the fireplace to heat the place up,” he told her, placing slivers of wood in the fireplace and lighting them. He added small pieces of split wood until flames danced across the hearth. Finally he placed a few logs on the fire.

  Amy cringed and looked away. Dallas realized that a fire was probably the last thing she wanted to see right now. He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “How about some soup?”

  “Huh?”

  “Cures everything.”

  Amy was too tired to argue. Her mind was on Gramps. “Maybe he wasn’t in there,” she said.

  Dallas looked down at her. The hospital staff had cleaned her up, but her clothes were torn, scorched, and damp. He disappeared into the storage room behind the kitchen where he rummaged in a box of clothes and returned with a red jogging suit. “Here,” he offered it to Amy. “Looks like it’ll fit, but even if it doesn’t, it’s clean and dry.” He motioned to the bathroom. “Change in there, if you like,” he suggested, putting one of the butane lanterns on the bathroom vanity.

  Amy took the jogging suit, looked down at her jeans and shirt, then made her way toward the bathroom. Dallas waited for what seemed an eternity.

  “You done yet?” he called through the closed door.

  “Soon,” she told him.

  A few minutes later he inquired again. “You coming out of there tonight?”

  “Ah, maybe,” she mumbled. “It was here a minute ago--”

  There was a loud thump. He knocked on the door. “Everything okay?” When there was no response, he opened the door slightly and peered around it
. She was sitting on the floor, staring at the sweatshirt, naked from the waist up. She looked up at him, then tried to cover herself with her bare arms. Her ivory skin was flawless, her breasts firm and round. Dallas realized that he was gaping at her, so he grabbed the sweatshirt, and pulled it over her head. “Here. Stick your arms through here,” he said.

  Her arms landed around his neck. “You have nice blue eyes,” she told him matter-of-factly. Her eye met his and lingered. “Very handsome…too.”

  Dallas grinned. “Uh, I think we need to get you dressed. Here, try it again. Stick your arms through here.” This time they tangled in the sleeves. He worked the fleece down over her arms. Her skin was silky soft. She’s so beautiful. He lifted her off the floor. A vivid image of soft white skin and perfectly round breasts involuntarily flashed through his mind.

  Amy reached out to steady herself and ended up clutching his shirt. Confused, she looked up. “Sorry, Dallas, drugs do strange things—to me.” Her words slurred. “But you’ve been very…nice.” She kissed his cheek and laid her head on his shoulder. “And you’re very com-for-ble.” Then she stood up and stepped past him into the kitchen.

  He sat her down at the table, pushing the soup bowl toward her.

  She stared at it. “When will they…know?”

  “By morning.”

  Amy dropped her head into the palms of her hands and closed her eyes. She swayed and almost fell off the chair. He grabbed the flashlight off the fridge and scooped her up. Cursing his bad knee, he carried her up to the loft and laid her on the bed. Gently, he pulled the blankets over her and saw that she was already asleep.

  He tidied the kitchen and then stretched out on the big recliner by the fire. He hadn’t intended to stay at the cabin, but he couldn’t leave her in her current state either. He slept peacefully until a scream woke him hours later. Grabbing the flashlight, he dashed upstairs. Amy was thrashing in the bed, her breath coming in gasps. She called out again. “No! Help him. Help…him.” Tears streamed down her face and she struck out at the air around her.

  Dallas grasped her wrists and pushed her arms down onto the mattress. She fought him. “Amy, wake up.” He dug his thumbs into her shoulders and spoke loudly, “Amy, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

  Her eyes flew open and she sat up. “Oh Gramps, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She dropped her head onto his shoulder. Tears soaked his shirt. He stroked her hair. “It’s okay, Amy. It’s okay,” he said gently.

  Dallas held her until she drifted back to sleep, then covered her and went back downstairs. He picked up the poker and stoked the fire, anger burning in his gut. He knew the fire at old man Hadden’s was arson. Somewhere out there were two of the worst creatures known to man. Dallas swore aloud.

  He repositioned his chair and sat back down, too angry to sleep. Around dawn he drifted off, only to awaken a couple of hours later with a start. Amy stood over him, wrapped in a blanket, her long golden hair shimmering in the early morning sunlight. He sat up with a jolt, wondering how long she’d been there.

  CHAPTER 19

  Amy pulled the blanket around her and gazed down at Dallas. She had stood that way for some time, watching him sleep, sprawled out in the armchair. She didn’t know a man like this existed. He had saved her life at great risk to his own. The paramedics told her no one else would risk a rescue. It was too dangerous. Why did he do it? They told her the roof collapsed right after he entered the house, but he still carried her out. Did she thank him? She couldn’t remember.

  Dallas stirred and sat upright. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Amy nodded and sat gingerly on the edge of the armchair opposite him. “I’ve been trying to remember if I thanked you,” Amy paused, “They said I was crazy to have gone into that burning building, but my grandfather means everything to me.” Her voice broke and she took a breath before continuing, “What I don’t understand is, why you went in. You risked your life.”

  Dallas ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t see it that way. It was something that had to be done, that’s all. A man can’t get hung up thinking: if I go in there this could happen or that could happen. Hell, nothing would get done in this life, at that rate. You see a window of opportunity, you jump in.”

  Amy stared at him in amazement. “Well, your window of opportunity looked like a wall of flames to everyone else.”

  “Maybe.”

  She hesitated, “I appreciate what you did,” she said softly. “More than you can imagine. I can’t even fathom the kind of man who would do something like that, especially for someone you hardly know.”

  He waved her suggestion away.

  Still hugging the blanket Amy wiggled deeper into the armchair and tried to collect her thoughts. “I also want to apologize for last night. I think I was a disaster. You must be wondering what kind of weird person I am.”

  Seeing her discomfort, Dallas slid forward in his chair. “Hell no,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers as he searched for the right words. “Not at all. You’re a very special woman, Amy. I’ve seen you over the years and heard you at the town hall meetings. You’re a quiet, intelligent, self-possessed, woman. And you’ve got courage. Even though I think you were crazy going in that burning house, I respect why you did it. It took a lot of guts. Not many people, men or women, would have done that.”

  “I couldn’t leave Gramps in there.” Amy swallowed hard.

  Dallas nodded, getting up to stoke the fire. Soon flames danced and their warmth took away the night chill. “You know, the situation you’re in is tough. And I’ve got a feeling things will get a lot tougher.”

  Amy considered that. “If that’s true, I hope I’m up for it. Feels like I’ve been pushed to the brink these past days, and sometimes I’ve thought, ‘I can’t take anymore!’ but like it or not, I find that I can. I guess that’s how you grow as a person, but I don’t know whether it’s good or it’s bad. If it is for the better, it’s probably the only good coming out of this situation.” She saw his expression and added, “that is, besides meeting you.”

  The intensity of his look shook her. She had been living on the edge for days. Her world had tilted and she now resided in a dark and terrifying place. The only time in these past days that she had felt safe or saw light, was in this man’s presence. At those moments the world righted itself, and she wanted it to stay that way. She wanted to find Jamie, Gramps, and her twin, and end the violence.

  “You are such a good man, Dallas. You have incredible inner strength. What you did for me last night was beyond comprehension. It was astonishing. In this room, now, with you, I actually feel whole again.” He was strong and confident. A special warmth radiated from him and she wanted to move closer to it, and to him. She wanted that desperately. But something held her back.

  His pale blue eyes met hers and she felt her breath leave her, reminding her of the first time he had done that to her, and how uncomfortable it had made her feel.

  He reached over and touched her face, his thumb running along her cheekbone. She sat perfectly still. His touch was warm and gentle. He was so close. She wanted—no! He dropped his hand and leaned back, studying her. Then, abruptly he stood and walked over to the cabin door where he plucked his jacket from the coat hook. “We’re low on firewood. Water’s hot if you’d like a bath.”

  Amy stood up quickly, the blanket cascading to the plank floor around her feet. Picking it up, she swung it over the back of the chair, and hiked up the jogging pants. A bath sounded good.

  The water was warm and soothing and she sank down in the tub as low as she could without dousing the burns on her hands and arms. Tilting her head back, the water swirled around her scalp lifting the smoky odor from her hair. Shampoo and soap were on a shelf above the tub and she made use of them, using her fingertips. Finally she soaked, the warm water caressing her aching muscles.

  There was a tap on the door and it opened wide enough for a stack of clothes to make their way onto the bathroom coun
ter, before swinging shut again. She smiled and closed her eyes.

  Immediately, her thoughts flew to her grandfather’s burning house. How had the fire started? Was it the stove? An electrical short? Or…was it intentionally set? Then she remembered the threat she’d received. You made a big mistake calling the Sheriff. Amy sat up so fast water splashed over the lip of the tub. Her breath left her.

  Did he see me with the sheriff? Did he make Gramps pay for that? What have I done?

  By the time she was able to regain her composure enough to get out of the tub, the water was cold. She toweled off and inspected the stack of clean clothes: jeans, a blue plaid shirt similar to the one Dallas was wearing, cotton socks, soft bra and—she held them up—French cut panties. The fit was about two sizes too large, but the clothes were clean.

  When she opened the bathroom door, she found Sanville’s sheriff bent over the oven door, fork in hand, toasting bagels. He looked at her and frowned. “Too big, huh?”

  Amy tugged at the jeans, examining the fit. “I guess she’s a little shorter and bigger around.”

  “They belong to my ex. Ellen and I used the cabin a lot after my parents moved back to Texas, so we kept clothes here. When she left me, she was mad as hell. Never came back for her things, so I threw them in boxes and put them in the storage room.”

  He plucked the bagels from the oven, dropped them onto plates, and pushed them across the small table. Then, he reached around for the coffeepot. “Breakfast is served,” he announced, setting a pot of honey beside the toast. “Luckily, I had a bag of bagels in the truck. They were for the office. We each bring something, and donuts aren’t allowed.”

  Sitting at the plank table, Amy found herself eye level with a framed wall photo of a young girl about ten. Her long dark hair was knotted into a sporty ponytail; her cool blue eyes looked right at Amy, and a capricious smile played on her lips. “Your daughter?”