Chardy Walker Lieb

by The Saint

  "You know as well as I do, that place was nothing more than a glorified prison." She shuddered at the thought. "Associates, huh?"

  "That's why I want us to stay well within the cover of the woods. Jake helped her over a small ditch, surprised and pleased at how agile and athletic she was. The less he had to worry about her, the more he could concentrate on getting them to the nearest phone.

  "Sounds like a plan to me." Watching the early evening shadows lengthen, Courtney picked up her pace a bit. "Even though, as far as I'm concerned, getting lost in this thick timber isn't much better than being trapped in that cabin."

  "The hell it isn't." He grabbed her hand and gave her fingers a playful squeeze. "Granted, you may have taken some mail order electronics class–"

  "Hey, you're outside, aren't you?"

  "My point exactly." He ducked beneath a large tree limb. "You're on my turf now."

  "Don't tell me." She wagged her finger in his face, grateful for the banter. "You aced Survival Training 101 with…hmmm…a canteen, a compass and a monster pack of beef jerky."

  "You're close. When I was in the Navy and qualified for the S.E.A.L. training, they dropped me in the middle of a swamp, alone, and I had a week to find my way back to civilization."

  Courtney angled a sidelong glance, but he looked dead serious. "If that’s the truth then I'm impressed." The Navy S.E.A.L. documentary she’d seen followed the trainees on one mission. They were forced to sit waste deep in snake-infested waters for eight hours at a time and were never allowed to move. No wonder such a small percent make it through. And Jake had been one of them.

  "Scout’s honor," he swore, holding back a branch until she could pass.

  "Well now, I know that's a lie. You," she began, smacking his arm with her fist, "were never a Boy Scout."

  "S.C.O.U.T.S. honor," he repeated. "That stands for Strategic Combat Operative Undercover Task Squad."

  "Oh." She was quiet for a beat, then smiled. "Considering our surroundings, it looks like I turned my life over to the right man.

  "Well, your expertise got us this far." He gestured around. "I think mine can get us the rest of the way."

  When the leg of her linen slacks got caught, she stopped to unhook it and pick out the cocklebur. "I guess we make a pretty good team, after all."

  She looked so damned cute, balancing on one foot and smiling up at him, he couldn't resist razzing her, just a little more. "I've worked with worse."

  Unwilling to let his cocky comment pass, she countered, "Me, too." As they walked, she couldn’t help but ask, “What turned your life around?”

  “The service,” he answered without hesitation. “I went in with a huge chip on my shoulder and nothing to lose. It didn’t take me long to realize that nothing was exactly what I was going to get. The same thing I’d been getting all my life. And I was sick of it. Besides, thanks to a very smart commanding officer, I realized as good as I was at the physical challenges, I was even better at the mind games.”

  The pride in his voice tickled a long ago spot in her heart. “And you liked it a lot,” she added.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “Something just clicked for me.”

  “I’m so glad.” And she was. Everyone deserved to find his or her place in life. She had. And it was comforting to know Jake had, too. “So, why did you leave?”

  “I can’t explain it. I just knew it was time to move on.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve always gone with my instincts, so I didn’t re-up.”

  If there was more to his story, Jake didn’t offer to tell Courtney. And she didn’t push. Probably because she agreed in a person’s inner sense of timing—good and bad. And fate.

  As darkness settled around them, Jake pulled the flashlight from the backpack and used it to search for some sort of cover. Walking too much farther without sufficient light could be dangerous, and they still needed to stay parallel with the road, not wander deeper into the woods.

  Just as her easy flow of conversation had ebbed with the onset of darkness, Courtney noticed Jake's pace had slowed accordingly. Unable to see as well, she kept a vice-like grip on his hand and her eyes fixed on the single beam lighting their path. She trusted Jake to lead her to safety. Believed in him. That's what it boiled down to. Unfortunately for Courtney, the warmth and comfort of her newfound faith cooled as nighttime settled around them, and the wind restlessly stirred. The moment the sun went down, all the normal sounds that made walking through the woods pleasurable during the daylight underwent drastic, vampire-like transformations.

  Clouds drifted across the moon like a pall, momentarily blackening the sky. Sinister tree limbs creaked overhead, threatening to strike. Moaning evergreens whispered cryptic warnings. Courtney struggled to control her overzealous imagination, but like the darkness it seemed to have a mind of its own.

  The snapping of dry twigs under foot– was someone behind her?

  The breeze rustling through the tall, dried grass–a poisonous snake?

  The scampering sound of a raccoon–a rabid coyote?

  Spooked, but determined not to show it, she continued, putting one foot in front of the other. That is, until she saw it…

  Jake had seen it, too, because he immediately turned off the flashlight and stopped, positioning himself slightly in front of her. At first, neither of them said a word. Or took a breath.

  "Headlights," she whispered.

  "About a half mile down the road," Jake determined.

  Courtney pulled on Jake's arm. "Come on, let's go," she urged, anxious to stop the oncoming car and hitch a ride. "Hurry."

  Jake grabbed Courtney by the arm and hauled her up short. "We can't let them see us."

  "Are you crazy?" She yanked free of him. "All we need is a lift to the nearest phone."

  "Who's in the car, Courtney?" He grabbed her arm and waited for her to think. "What if it's Eddie and Sal?"

  Courtney sucked in her breath, horrified she hadn't thought of that.

  "We're dead." Voice hollow, he answered his own question.

  She glared at him. "What if it's not them?"

  "We lose some time, not our lives." Watching the lights approach, Jake quietly assured her, "We walked out of one another's lives six years ago, and I came damned close to losing you today. You and Janey. I won't take that chance again."

  "You're right." And she knew he was. His words could very well have been her words–had she said them first. "We'd better get down, so they can't see us," she urged wrapping her arms around his waist and tugging him to the ground.

  Hunkering behind a clump of evergreens, Jake followed the oncoming lights. "They're driving a helluva lot slower than the speed limit, Sweetness. It may be Templeton's men. It may not." "Bad vibes," Courtney murmured, shuddering as the car drove past them. "Definitely too slow, Jake. You were right about not taking a chance." "There's no way to know that for certain, but if we stay down, no one can find us tonight," he assured

  her.

  "I'm sorry–"

  "Forget it." He slipped his arm around her shoulder. "If that was Eddie and Sal, their only hope would be to catch us flagging down a ride. And if they continue to search for us tonight, all they can do is drive the surrounding roads. As long as we stick to our plan, we should be all right." The moment Jake saw the car's taillights, he stood. "Besides, they may have inadvertently given us something almost as good as a ride." He helped Courtney to her feet.

  "What?" Too shaken to stay behind Jake, Courtney stuck close by his side. She tripped over the end of log and landed on one knee. "Ouch."

  Jake hauled her up. "Look straight ahead, about three hundred yards," he began. "When I saw them coming, I thought their headlights outlined some sort of–I don't know–shed or something."

  She laughed. "An out house?"

  "Grow up," he teased, relieved Courtney hadn't lost her sense of humor. If she weren’t careful, he'd have to add resilience to her increasing list of not-so-hard-to-swallow traits. Reluctant to use the flashlight
, Jake made his way through the brush, leading Courtney to a small clearing where an abandoned farmhouse and barn stood. A huge limb had caved in the roof of the house, but the barn, for the most part, appeared to

  be in tact.

  Courtney never thought a shamble could look this good. "Way to go, Jake."

  Jake's smile faded as he approached the front porch. The withered remains of last summer's clematis wrapped possessively around the rail. Clumps of tall, dry grass nearly obscured the steps. The torn screen door hung slightly off its hinges. "It's a shame big business has made the family farm obsolete."

  "You think that's what happened here?" Courtney asked, joining him. The place looked so forlorn. So lonely.

  "Maybe." He pointed to the roof. "The tree falling could have clinched their decision."

  She shook her head and sighed. "No point in rebuilding what they were bound to lose in the long run." Her heart went out to the family who had called this farm their home.

  "I suppose." He shrugged. "It's sad, but it's happening all over the country. Like losing the corner grocer and the doctor who actually used to know you by name."

  "Broken windows and shattered dreams." Courtney sighed.

  "Exactly." Jake nodded. "And not that different from the inner cities, if you think about it."

  Courtney had to agree with his rather astute comparison. "Those graffiti tagged, abandoned buildings are just closer together, that's all." The night air became cooler with the concept. "Progress," she decided with a shiver, "is highly overrated, don't you think?"

  "Sometimes, it truly is." Jake took her hand and led her toward the barn. "Let's get inside before you get chilled."

  Jake hefted the iron latch and shoved open the creaky wooden door. Sensing her reluctance, he shined the flashlight around the interior, illuminating scattered straw and bales of hay. A rusty pitchfork hung on one wall. A horse's bridal on the other. A shovel lay discarded in the corner. Nothing lethal, Jake decided, deeming it safe and waving her in. "Come on."

  Courtney decided the smell was fragrant, almost sweet, and not at all as unpleasant as she'd expected.

  Directly overhead, the coo of barn swallows startled her as they fluttered, then settled again on the rafters. One filthy window, casting a square pane of moonlight on the dirt floor, was all that stood between them and total darkness.

  Jake discarded the backpack and used the pitchfork to gather the straw into a mattress-sized pile. He stacked the bales of hay around the makeshift bed and covered it with the clean, wool blanket and extra sheet he'd packed.

  Touched by his thoughtfulness and grateful for his ingenuity, Courtney helped him push the large door shut. She stepped aside while he improvised a lock, of sorts, by slipping the pitchfork handle through the latch. Leaning against the wooden barrier, Courtney realized, for the moment, she wanted nothing more than to keep the world out… and let Jake stay in just a little while longer.

  After tonight–who knew what would happen to them, much less between them? Certainly not Courtney, and she doubted if Jake had any clearer vision of their fate or their relationship than she did. Carpe diem, she thought wistfully. And that's exactly what she planned to do.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked, rifling through their supplies.

  "That depends." Suddenly weary, she sat down on the edge of the blanket, leaning her back against the wall. "What's on the menu?"

  He grabbed a package of Ritz crackers and a can of Cheese Whiz. "How about starting with hors d'oeuvres–kind of."

  "Sounds fabulous." The absurdity of their situation made her laugh, but this man's determination to make the most of it made her spirit smile. Biting into Jake's self-proclaimed appetizer, she played along. "Absolute perfection." Squirting the gooey cheese on a cracker and feeding it to him, she cooed, "My compliments to the chef."

  Jake opened his mouth for the bite and surprised Courtney by licking the excess cheese off her fingers. "I don't know which tastes better," he swore.

  Her smile was genuine.

  "Would the lady care for a glass of wine?" Pretending to check the label on the bottle of Welch's grape juice before pouring, he bragged, "An excellent year."

  She took a sip. "Unchilled, naturally."

  "Of course."

  All in all, thanks to Jake's health conscious effort, they wouldn't starve. In fact, compared to her usual eating habits, she'd probably pick up a few vitamins along the way.

  "I'm either awfully hungry, or this peanut butter is extra yummy." Courtney spread a second cracker and handed it to Jake.

  Before taking a bite, Jake asked, "Does Janey like peanut butter?"

  "Yes, she does." Courtney's heart fluttered against her ribs. "Peanut butter and grape jelly."

  Snagging the soft, leather wallet, from her purse along with the flashlight from his makeshift backpack, Courtney settled next to him.

  Jake clenched his jaw. Refusing to let his hands shake, he popped the snap but hesitated. Hell, he'd looked under sheets at the morgue with less anxiety. In one smooth motion he flipped open the billfold and willingly changed the rest of his life.

  Under the soft beam of light, Jake glanced at the first photo, then at Courtney. Her eyes had filled with tears, and she'd never looked more beautiful to him. He gave her a quick smile, then flipped through the rest of the pictures–twelve in all–several times without speaking. Not that he could have spoken a word if he had wanted to. The lump in his throat had pretty much nixed that.

  Janey…

  Mesmerized, Jake stared at her long, dark hair. Like mine. Her big, blue eyes. Like Courtney's. And that smile.

  "Five years old," he said, not asked.

  Courtney sighed, wondering where the years had gone. "Kindergarten this fall," she conceded with motherly reluctance.

  Jake thumbed through the snapshots one last time…

  Janey, sitting for a portrait, all ruffles and lace. "She's beautiful," he stated proudly.

  “Yes, she is,” Courtney agreed wholeheartedly.

  At the beach wearing tiny water wings. "Can she swim?" he asked, sorry that he didn't know.

  "We're working on it, but she's a little scared."

  "I can teach her," Jake offered immediately. He'd take Courtney's smile as a yes.

  On a small bicycle. "She's not a baby."

  "No," Courtney agreed, careful to screen any trace of melancholy from her voice. Time had passed so quickly, and Jake had already missed so much of Janey's life. And hers. "But she could sure use some fatherly help getting those training wheels off,” she offered, relinquishing that privilege to him.

  Jake nodded his appreciation.

  “And I have a baby book and several photo albums you're going to love."

  He handed back the billfold. "I missed her diapers."

  "Oh yeah, Ciora, that was fun," Courtney teased, trying to lessen the impact of his words. "Don't forget the ear infections and the teething."

  His eyes widened. "First tooth." Little by little, things began to dawn on Jake. Tumble through his mind and out his mouth. "First word. First step. First everything."

  "Not quite everything." Courtney laid her hand on his and laced her soft words with understanding. "Trust me. Kids don't remember being a baby, but from now on Janey will have the dad she's always wanted."

  Far from comforted, Jake bristled. "What about Barney?"

  "Barry," Courtney corrected with a sigh. "I married Barry about a year ago, for all the wrong reasons." When Jake's eyebrow raised a notch, Courtney's shot back, "Don't look at me like that. Barry's a nice guy. We work together, and we get along great. But,"–she met the question his dark gaze–"I was never in love with him."

  Jake's jaw unclenched–slightly–but that didn't stop him from pinning her down further. After all, Courtney had married another man. Barry had taken sacred vows with her. Slept with her. Loved her?

  "What exactly were your reasons?" His question was a simple one, and he needed to hear the answer.

  Courtney clicked
off the light, content to sit with Jake in the moonlight. "I thought, with school looming in her near future, Janey needed a dad more than ever. I know how cruel kids can be, because I went through that. Explaining why you don't have a dad–where yours is."

  Jake knew all too well about families and school kids. Except in his experience no Dad would have been better than the bastard he had. Either way, it stinks for the kid. But not his daughter, not anymore. "So things just didn't work out with Barney."

  "Barry," Courtney corrected, still unwilling to let the slur stand. She shook her head, wondering how damn stubborn one man could be. "We're divorced, but still friends, and from time to time he still tries to help out."

  Jake shrugged, then took a sip. What kind of idiot lets a great woman like Courtney go. This Barry must be a total loser–but it saved Jake from beating the holy crap out of him–so, what the hell! "Can't say I'm sorry about the no longer married part."

  "Me either." Grateful the murder had suddenly disappeared from Jake's eyes, she added, "Besides, Michael has always been there as a father figure for Janey and Uncle Brian has been like the grandpa she never knew."

  Jake decided Janey was grounds enough for mending fences with Michael–privately. "And I thought that old skin-flint of an Irishman had a cash register for a heart."

  Courtney laughed. "So, he's a tight wad on the job, too?" she asked, referring back to Jake's earlier comment.

  "So cheap the man squeaks when he walks." When she laughed, he added, "I've threatened to buy my own damn paper clips.”

  Easily picturing Brian and Jake butting heads over office supplies, Courtney swallowed before confiding, "When I was nine, I bet Uncle Brian my week's allowance I could beat him at hopscotch." Courtney leaned back against the overstuffed davenport and smiled at the memory.

  Jake polished off his hot dog. "Don't tell me he beat you?" He could picture it now. The overgrown Irishman determined to teach a lesson on the evils of gambling. And the dark-haired fourth grader who, even then, probably didn't know when to back off and cut her losses.

  "He not only won, but he made me pay up."

  The easy familiarity of her laughter nudged Jake's heart. "Sounds just like O’Shea." Finishing off his grape juice, he couldn't resist. "I've got to know one thing. How in the hell did you open those hand cuffs?"