The Garouls managed these woods. They were more than capable of dealing with any marauding animal in their valley.
Lunch with Jori and Elicia was a chatty, laughter-filled affair. They were obviously very much in love, and it warmed Amy to share in their glow.
When Elicia ducked inside to grab some napkins, Jori leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “What ya think, Amy? I’m going to ask Elicia to marry me.”
Amy gave him a big hug. “She’s a lovely person. You’re very lucky to have met her, Jori. I’m so happy for the both of you.”
“It’s kind of quick but I never met anyone who felt so right. We really understand each other—” He broke off as Elicia returned.
Amy decided it was time to go and leave them in peace. With a happy wave good-bye, she set off for home. She wondered about the pregnancy test kit she had seen in Elicia’s shopping and immediately dispelled it from her mind. Jori and Elicia were in love and going to be married, which was the best news Amy had heard all year. There would be some party when Jori made his announcement.
Thinking about Jori and Elicia’s happiness pulled her back into her own past, to a time when she too had been deliriously in love. She detoured past the creek and wandered along the riverbank until she came to a massive granite outcrop jutting over the water.
It was the first time she’d visited this place in over seven years. She didn’t know why she was here, but it seemed like the right time to come and say hello.
It used to be her magic place. Her sarsen stone. Now she sat perched on it, her feet dangling six feet above the gurgling river. It was wide enough for two to lie side by side after a swim on a hot summer’s day, and let the sun dry their naked bodies. She knew that for a fact. She smiled as she remembered a hundred lazy sunny afternoons spent just like that. And with that smile, the floodgates opened to her bottled-up memories of Leone and being in love with her.
On her first ever visit she had lost her sandal over the edge of this rock and cried big splashy tears as it swirled away. She could still recall the pink plastic shoe bobbing downstream and the fear that her mom would be mad and shout. Even at five years old, Amy was keenly attuned to her mother’s mood swings and erratic stress levels. Then Leone, ever the little otter, jumped in fully clothed from all the way up here, and swam out and rescued the sandal. She brought it back triumphantly, soaked through, tall and proud. For the rest of that summer, and many summers after, Amy’s awestruck eyes saw only her wonderful hero. Leone was older, taller, prettier, and much stronger than the boys, and so very protective of her, the little blond girl who came to stay for vacations and followed Leone everywhere.
On this magic rock Amy had chalked early masterpieces, cloud watched, stargazed, and years later finally kissed her hero. Her Leone. She had fallen in love here, lost her virginity—and her heart. They’d whispered plans for great adventures, for traveling the world over; silly teenage dreams of a wonderful future together.
The rock held bad memories, too. One summer, the body of a drowned man lazily swirled by, caught up in the current farther out. He wore a hunter’s vest. Amy had been horrified as he drifted past face down, and full of dismay and fear, she ran for a grown-up. The Garoul children had simply stood in a line along the bank, dark eyed and silent, watching him sail away.
That last magical summer, she had sat here for hours waiting for Leone. They always met here on those balmy summer nights to watch the stars sparkle and the moon break over the valley lip. The stone was their secret rendezvous, where they would meet and talk, and make love until dawn.
Leone never showed. Eventually, tired of waiting, cold and worried, Amy had wandered down to Marie’s cabin. It was empty.
Back home Connie gently broke it to her that Marie and Leone had left for the airport. Leone had a job at Garoul Print in Vancouver.
No time for good-byes, no farewells, no promises to wait forever. Leone had simply gone. In an angst-filled phone call the following night Leone had been cool and remote, explaining that her family came first, and that was why she had to take this opportunity in Vancouver. She and Amy had great fun that summer, but that’s all it was. Fun. And she wished Amy well for the future.
A week later Amy was in London, making that future happen. All belief in love and magic lost. She took their dreams of travel and adventure and lived them alone.
Now, Amy stood gazing into the rushing water and allowed the old hurt and confusion to wash over her again. It was diluted by time and by her own emotional maturity. The pain had numbed, the lessons had been learned. She and Leone had been young and foolish. Real life had always been waiting in the wings, and it still was. She would complete her work, see that Connie was okay, and then move on as she had before. As she always did.
The weather had brightened and she decided to collect another sketchbook and head out again, grabbing every opportunity she could to tick plants off her specimen list.
Dicentra fromosa, bleeding heart. Amy knew of a shady ravine where she was bound to catch this plant in fall flower. Bleeding heart had always graced the valley with both a spring and fall show of its delicate pink blossoms.
It took a lot of nerve for her to go out alone after the morning’s spookiness, but she had to do it. The work had to be done. Unless she wanted to beg Leone to escort her everywhere, she’d just have to steel herself and get on with it. She was not going to give in to Leone’s wishes. Especially now that she knew Leone was pining for another “summer of love” with all that love potion rubbish. No way was Amy walking into that trap. Leone might think it would be a fun way to pass the next few weeks, but Amy knew it would take her back to her old heartaches, wants, and needs. And for her that was a journey more frightening than any walk in the woods.
She found her bleeding heart exactly where she expected to, and spent the rest of the afternoon recording the shy, dainty plant. Content with her day’s work, she packed up and settled back against the trunk of a fir tree. Time for a snack bar and hot drink, she opened her thermos and—
“Phew.” Her nose wrinkled. Something stank. She sniffed her thermos but it wasn’t her coffee gone seriously off. Nope, not that.
She looked around her but saw nothing obvious. No skunks, no stinky flowers. A breeze blew up and the stench became stronger. It seemed to carry on the wind. She swung her head back and gazed up into the branches of the tree. Twenty feet directly above her dangled the head and shoulder of a large elk.
“Ew.” She leapt to her feet and moved away. Aghast, she examined her find from a safe distance. It was disgusting. Only half the animal’s carcass remained; the rest was torn away. Flies massed around its huge milky eyes; entrails dangled from the lower branches like Christmas streamers. From the look and smell of it, it was an old kill. Amy knew what she was looking at, a larder. She was just surprised to see one here. The last time she had witnessed this type behavior she was watching a leopard in the Serengeti.
She scooted around to the rear of the tree and examined the trunk. There were deep, ragged gouges where the predator had dug in its claws to drag its meal up into the branches. They reminded her of the savage scores she had seen earlier that day. Vicious, penetrating lacerations. It had probably suspended the heavy carcass in its jaws as it slowly climbed up to a safe spot to gorge on its kill.
Amy’s appetite was gone. She recapped her thermos and put away her chocolate bar, deciding to make tracks for home. Bad weather was coming in over the valley ridge. It would bring an early dusk, and she didn’t want to be caught out late. Especially not this close to the larder of something so big and menacing it could haul an adult elk up a tree.
It took Amy a couple of hours to make her way back down to the central compound. It was late and most of the cabins were in darkness when she finally arrived at her halfway point home. As she cut across the clearing, she noted the lights were out in Marie’s cabin. Was Leone asleep, too? It felt strange to have gone a full day and not have her pestering presence popping up somewhere. Maybe sh
e was too embarrassed after losing her cool on the porch yesterday? Head down, Amy doggedly trudged homeward.
Halfway along the home trail, with a crescent moon peeking out between the racing storm clouds, she passed a part of the Silverthread where the river pooled into a creek. This was a safe swimming hole, and tonight she heard the rhythmic splashing of a night swimmer.
Curious, she pushed through the trees, ducking under overhanging branches until she reached the shore. The moon crazed across the rippling water, and a lone swimmer cut through the liquid silver with strong, powerful strokes. It was Leone. Even from here Amy recognized the curve of her shoulders, the graceful arc of her arm, and the dark mesh of her hair clinging to head and neck. She cleaved through the water, animalistic and erotic, affecting Amy at a very base level. At least I’m honest enough to accept she is one hot mama. Even if I can’t trust her not to burn holes in my heart.
Amy sighed at the truth of it and turned to depart as silently as she’d arrived, until she saw Leone’s clothes heaped on the bank where she had stepped right out of them.
Would you look at that? Practically lying in a mud puddle. Inwardly scolding, Amy wandered over, her obsessive-compulsive gene demanding she at least fold the clothes on a rock, off the muddy ground. She bent over and grabbed a sweatshirt by the collar. The fabric was already soaked through and badly stained. Her hand felt sticky. The dampness was not the consistency of mud, but thin and viscous, and it smelled coppery. She raised her hand to her face and looked closely. Blood! Her hand was covered in blood! It was all over Leone’s shirt.
Anxiously she checked the jeans. They were also stained a dark red. All Leone’s clothes were soiled with blood. Amy clawed through the pile, sick with alarm—
“My wallet’s in my other pants.” The deep voice came from directly behind her, causing her to jump.
“Shit. Do you want to give me a heart attack sneaking up like that?” She spun around to face a very naked Leone, her body gleaming in the moonlight. Rivulets of water ran down her long frame. Amy’s eyes widened, momentarily overpowered with her gut-wrenching reflexes of alarm, attraction, and anger. She was worried at the blood on Leone’s clothes—and annoyed at her standing before her gloriously nude, obviously unharmed, and as cocky as ever.
Leone gave a small grin, noting the reaction to her nakedness. She enjoyed the sensation of cool air and cold water on her skin. Now she reveled in Amy Fortune’s gaze fixed on her body, despite Amy’s obvious internal struggle to break away and look elsewhere. She felt every small shift in Amy’s perception of her, and knew yesterday’s fight on the porch had left Amy feeling off balance around her. Leone had catapulted Amy out of her staid little comfort zone. Had broken her out of her safe cocoon. But Amy had to understand, this valley was not a cocoon, and neither was it safe. Amy needed her, if only she knew it.
It was a bonus to meet up with her tonight while she was still so off-tilt. Leone knew she simply needed time and favorable circumstances to sway the odds back in her favor and win Amy back. Standing naked before her was so natural and right; watching Amy’s befuddled reaction was a mischievous pleasure.
Finally, Amy managed to tear her eyes away and wildly scan the nearby skyline. Has the woman no shame?
“Your clothes? There’s blood everywhere. What the hell happened? Are you hurt somewhere I can’t possibly see?” she demanded, annoyed that her initial concern had been turned into something else by Leone’s brazen, knowing look.
“I went into town with Claude for a brew. We hit a deer on the way back. It was messy. I didn’t want to walk blood into Mom’s cabin so I jumped in the creek.” She shrugged as if it was an everyday occurrence, and mild inconvenience. “I’ll throw the clothes in the laundry later.”
“Here.” Amy pulled off her jacket and handed it over. “Marie’s gone to bed. She won’t want you running the laundry at this time of night. Put this on and come back to my cabin.” She nodded at the messy clothes in her hands. “I’ll run these through a quick wash before they’re ruined.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m doing it for Marie, not you.” Amy turned abruptly and headed back up the trail.
Leone caught up with her in an instant, hugging the warm coat around her, enveloped in its owner’s scent and delighted at this strange turn of events.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grab a quick shower to warm yourself up, and I’ll make some tea.”
No sooner had they entered the cabin than Amy was singing out orders, recovering her composure through brusque commands. She moved to the small kitchenette and dumped Leone’s clothes in the washing machine with a large scoop of detergent.
Leone disappeared into the bathroom as she was told while Amy flicked on the kettle for making tea. With the water bubbling slowly to a boil she went to dig out some old shorts and a T-shirt of Connie’s that might just make Leone’s walk home a little more respectable. She pulled the clothing from the dresser and dumped it on her bed. It was obvious she was not going to get much studio work done tonight, so she changed out of her own mud spattered clothes and grabbed her pj’s from under the pillow.
Amy almost didn’t see the small cotton sachet tucked away underneath it. She examined it cautiously. It was gathered at the neck with a thin green cord, tied with what looked like an intricate series of knots. It smelled of herbs. She sniffed the fabric. It was a pleasant enough smell. She hadn’t noticed it before so it must have been placed there after she made her bed that morning.
I bet if I were to look through the Wicca book I’d find this is one of Leone’s hocus-pocus wooing concoctions. She’s been in this valley too long. Has she never heard of dinner and dancing? She didn’t know what to make of this bizarre side to Leone. It was endearing, yet also very annoying. She shook her head and replaced the sachet under the pillow. There was no harm in it and it did smell nice— Amy blinked.
Did the quilt just move? Another lurch from under the bedcover and her eyes widened. A horrible feeling crawled over her. Carefully she reached out and pulled the cover back with a swift jerk—and let out an unholy scream. A coiled, brightly colored snake was nestling in the dip of her mattress. It bunched up tightly, timid at the sudden exposure to light and the horrendous screech that accompanied it.
Amy spun on her heel and flew down the ladder, her feet barely touching the rungs. No sooner had she landed on the living room floor than she began to sprint for the door at top speed.
Leone burst out of the bathroom. The scream had sent her rushing from her shower in alarm. Amy was charging straight for her in an effort to reach the door, terrified out of her wits.
“Steady, steady.” Leone grabbed Amy by the shoulders and just managing to stop her. They both nearly toppled to the floor. “What the hell’s happening?”
“There’s a snake in my bed. A snake. A big snake. It’s big.” Amy was seconds away from full-blown hysteria. Her eyes were wide and tear filled. She trembled all over, a victim of an inborn terror of snakes that common sense and woodland holidays had never quiet eradicated. Leone was well aware of this phobia and tried to calm her.
“Okay, okay. Keep calm. Let me take a look.” Leone wound her towel tighter around her waist, uncaring that her chest was bare. “What color was it? Can you remember?” The color would give her an indication as to what might be awaiting her at the top of the ladder.
“Yellow—with black blotches—no, brown. Black. Oh, I don’t know. Get rid of it, Leone. Please…please.” Amy was a little calmer now that she had a champion. Leone reckoned if Amy had been on her own she’d be in Massachusetts by now, her feet a blur.
“Sounds like a bull snake. Big, you said.”
“Enormous.”
“Well, a male can be over six feet—”
“It was bigger than that…”
Leone snorted and headed up the ladder. “I’ve heard your fishing stories, remember.”
Amy stood wringing her hands, anxiously watching her bare-breasted Amazon climb to the sl
eeping gallery. She had never been so grateful she’d brought Leone back to the cabin.
“Do you want a stick? Don’t let it bite you. Please be careful.” She tried to be helpful from a distance.
“It’s a bull snake all right,” the call floated down to her. “A young female. At least I think it’s a female; they’re usually a little bit chunkier, but this one’s—”
“Who cares! Get it out.”
Leone balanced carefully coming back down the ladder, both hands occupied with her hefty cargo.Approximately three to four feet of colorful coils wrapped around one wrist and forearm. Amy paled at the sight. The other hand grasped the snake just behind its head. It lay docile in her hands. As Leone passed her, Amy backed off until her shoulders hit the wall.
“Open the door for me, will you. My hands are kind of full.” Leone nodded at the obstacle.
Amy pounced on the door handle in her enthusiasm to expel her unwelcome visitor. The night air reactivated the snake’s senses and it gave a loud hiss as it passed her, making her scurry to the far end of the room. Leone moved off the porch and set the snake gently on the ground close to the tree line.
“There you go, gal. Go catch a big fat gopher for supper. Ain’t nothing but chickens in there.” She nodded back to the cabin.
“I heard that, and you’re not funny.”
Before returning to the cabin Leone stood and sampled the night air. The forest was lively, activity carrying on as usual. She could sense nothing strange or out of place. Far from content, she moved back to the porch. Hesitating on the top step, she sniffed the air again, accepting there was nothing out there waiting. At least not anymore.
By the time she entered the living room Amy was in the loft stripping the bed down with great gusto.
“How the hell did it get in here?” she cried as sheets, pillowcases, and a quilt cover parachuted to the room below. Leone gathered the various items together and took them into the kitchen, dumping them on the floor by the busy washing machine.
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