by Dana Mentink
He took a soggy flannel shirt from his pack and squeezed the water out as best he could before he handed it to Sage and she wrapped the baby, putting him gently on Barbara’s chest to join his sister.
Barbara’s eyes were closed, but she held the babies tight under her chin, tears flowing down onto their damp heads.
Sage made sure Barbara was as comfortable as possible and Trey checked her pulse, which was steady and strong.
He moved aside so Sage could kneel next to Barbara. She began to talk quietly to her cousin, telling her how beautiful the babies were, counting all their fingers and toes and reporting every detail to Barbara, who was too exhausted to answer.
Trey looked over the glimmering expanse of water and tried to piece together an exit plan. Barbara was not strong enough to go anywhere, and he could not risk taking the infants up the rope, the way they had come. He squinted into the darkness, feeling the brush of cool air from the rear of the cavern. It must lead to the same system of tunnels that Dallas used to enter the theater, hence there must be a way out, but he could not risk the lives of four people on a what-if.
He felt Sage’s hand on his lower back and as he turned, she fell into his embrace as if it were natural, as if they had not had a lifetime and a war between them. He kissed the top of her head.
“You did great,” he said.
“You did, too, but it wasn’t us.”
He smiled into the darkness and gathered her close. “No, it wasn’t.” He wanted to stay like that, to keep her pressed close forever, but he felt the time ticking away, so he pulled her to arm’s length.
“I need to go back. Get help.”
She chewed her lip. “I will stay here with Barbara.”
“I think you found that brave woman inside you,” he said, tipping her chin up and wishing there was enough light for him to see the incomparable beauty of those blue eyes.
“Thanks for helping me with that,” she said.
“Anytime.” He went over the route. “I don’t know how quickly I can get back here. I’ll leave the pack with you. There’s water and...”
“Candy,” she said with a laugh.
“That, too.” He did not give voice to his biggest concern, that Barbara might begin to hemorrhage or experience some other complication. “Keep her sipping water if you can, and stay put.”
She nodded. “I won’t even bother with ‘be careful.’”
He shrugged. “I’m always careful.” He should have walked right down the catwalk ladder then, instead he pulled her close one more time and whispered in her ear, “Be here when I get back. Promise.”
She leaned back to look in his eyes, a confused, half-panicked expression on her face, and he knew he’d blown it. He let go. Strange times, that’s all. She doesn’t share your feelings. And frankly, he didn’t blame her. Three days ago he’d struggled between anger, outrage and attraction toward Sage Harrington. Now he could hardly bear to let her out of his sight. Emotional whiplash.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She nodded solemnly and knelt again next to Barbara while he hurried down the ladder. Just before he ducked into the stone tunnel, he looked up again and saw them both silhouetted in the weak glow of the flashlight. He thought he might have heard the gurgling cry of one of the babies, or maybe both.
How could he stand the responsibility, when he had made such a mess of it with his own flesh-and-blood brother? His breath seemed to crystallize in his lungs. Four lives, completely dependent on him. The weight of it nearly choked him.
He’s already overcome the world, remember, Trey? All you have to do is overcome this labyrinth of cement and steel. Physical obstacles were something he could deal with. Move it, Black.
He jogged up the slope and into the stone tunnel, keeping his head low and avoiding uneven patches as best he could. The air grew warmer as he rose. Back in the lower level he knew the women and both babies would be cold and that spurred him to go even faster. He made it back across the spillway to the rope, splashing through the water without pause.
Seizing the rope, he looped it around his arm and tensed for the ascent until an odor assailed his nostrils. He stopped, peering upward toward the top of the rope. Mingled there along with the sprays of water was a wisp of smoke.
Acrid smoke that smelled of gasoline and burning wood.
NINETEEN
Sage still felt the surreal wash of feeling at all that the last few hours had stirred up. Barbara was alive and cradling two perfect babies. Below them, the lake rippled and gurgled as if it was composing a soothing lullaby for the infants born under such difficult circumstances. The divine nature of the miracle still sparked through her consciousness and she knew Trey had felt it, too.
Be here when I get back. Promise.
Had he meant something besides a stern warning for someone with a history of not following orders? She thought so, imagined she’d heard the throb of emotion in his words, but her senses were so muddled, she could not trust them.
“Sage?” Barbara whispered. “How are we going to get the babies out?”
Sage was encouraged that Barbara felt strong enough to talk. “We’re going to stay right here until Trey brings back help.” She waited a beat to see if Barbara’s eyes would remain open. They did and Barbara handed her the little girl. “I’m going to name her Sage.”
Sage’s eyes filled with tears. “That is the nicest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Barbara’s eyes clouded. “He put me in here. Chloroformed me and when I woke, I was locked up.” Tears spilled down her face. “Caged like an animal. He shoved food in through a door in the back, and then locked it again.”
“Who, Barbara?”
“Fred Tipley.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I thought he was going to ask Derick for ransom, for the safe return of his wife and babies, but day after day passed and he didn’t release me. Then there was that terrible earthquake and I thought...” She swallowed. “I thought no one would even know I was here. How did you figure out I was in the Imperial?”
“I didn’t for a long time.” She weighed her words carefully. “Derick told me you were in Santa Fe, but I thought it was so strange that you’d travel so close to the delivery date, so I was poking around when the earthquake hit.”
“Santa Fe?” She gaped. “Why would he say that?”
Sage took a breath. “I don’t know. I thought...I thought he’d done something to you.”
Barbara’s mouth fell open. “No, no. Derick loves me and the babies. He would never hurt us.”
Sage didn’t voice her inner thoughts. He was going to burn down your opera house. “We’ll straighten it all out later.” She kissed the feathery brows of the baby in her arms. “Why don’t you make Sage her middle name? You can name her Elizabeth after your mother. Elizabeth Sage sounds perfect.”
The distraction did not quite erase the worried crease on Barbara’s forehead. “I heard someone in the drain. Who was that?”
“Derick.”
Her face lightened. “You see? He came back to find me. He would never hurt me.”
Sage busied herself pulling the sweatshirt closer around the baby and handing Barbara the bottle of water. “Take a sip.”
Barbara shook her head. “I don’t want any.”
Sage spoke sternly. “You have to stay strong for these babies, so drink up.”
Barbara took a small swallow, but Sage knew she was readying another question about Derick, so she stepped away, jiggling the baby up and down as she surveyed the lake beneath them. A shadow danced along above them on the ceiling, which, she supposed, was actually the lowest floor of the opera house.
A bat, she thought at first. An insect of some kind?
No, she thought, swayi
ng her arms to comfort the child. It was a swirling shadow of smoke. Her stomach clenched. Smoke. All the wooden shelves, the broken beams and tattered canvases.
The Imperial Opera House, like those magnificent buildings in 1906, was on fire.
Panic rooted her to the spot. For several moments she did not realize that Barbara was talking to her.
“What is it? What?”
She could not lie to her cousin. “Smoke. I think there’s a fire in the Imperial, somewhere on the upper floors.”
Barbara let out an anguished cry and struggled to sit up. “We have to get the babies out.”
Sage knelt next to her. “Trey will be back with help in time.”
“You don’t know that.”
It was true. She didn’t. Her fear was a cold, heavy mass inside her. “You said there was a door, where was it?”
She blinked. “I was drugged, I don’t remember clearly.”
Sage handed the baby to Barbara. “I’ll be right back.” Her feet practically flew down the ladder. At the bottom she skirted the lake, picking a trail around rubble and soggy patches of foul-smelling ground. In the rear, concealed behind a massive cement block, she found what she was looking for, a square opening that led away into the darkness. It had been blocked at one time by a door, which now hung crookedly, easy to push aside on broken hinges. Finally, a helpful side effect from the earthquake.
But was it an escape? Or a dead end that would leave them farther away from the help that Trey was bringing?
She realized her hands were balled into fists, nails digging into the palms. Had Trey gotten trapped in the fire? The thought made her head spin.
Be here when I get back. Promise.
If he did make it back and found them gone...
Indecision cut at her insides, growing along with the volume of smoke that now undulated in eddies under the ceiling. She could not wait. They would die of smoke inhalation.
Praying her decision was the right one, she hurried back to Barbara.
“I think I found a way out. We’ve got to go.”
Barbara nodded, already offering the babies to Sage before she tried to stand. Face lined with pain, she could manage only a crawl.
Sage thought quickly. “Wait here. I’ll take the babies down and come back up and help you.”
First, she dropped Trey’s pack down the ladder. Then, pulse thwacking in her throat, she carried one infant down and placed her on the driest spot she could find before doing the same with the other. By the time she topped the ladder for Barbara, her legs were wobbly.
“I can’t stand,” Barbara said.
“I’ll carry you.”
“Sage...”
Sage cut her off. “Piggyback ride, just like when we were kids. Hold on to me as tight as you can.” Stuffing the flashlight into her pocket, she offered Barbara her back and Barbara cinched her arms tightly around Sage’s shoulders. Painstakingly, using reserves of strength she didn’t know she possessed, Sage got them to the bottom where they both collapsed in a heap, breathing hard.
Tears coursed over Barbara’s face as she surveyed the dank-smelling lake.
“Are you hurt?” Sage said, kneeling there next to her.
“No, I’m just realizing something.”
“What?”
She turned stricken eyes on Sage. “You can’t carry me out of here and the babies, too.”
Sage hadn’t allowed her mind to consider that fact. “I’ll carry them and then come back and carry you. We’ll keep alternating like that.”
Barbara’s voice was stronger now, certain. “You need to leave me.”
“No way,” Sage said.
Barbara clasped her hand so tightly Sage winced. “You cannot save us all. The babies have to get out. If there’s time, come back for me.”
“Barbara, I can’t.” She realized even as she said it that she had no choice. She could not save all three lives. The precious newborns would not last much longer in the cold and darkness with the addition of smoke-poisoned air. Pain lanced across her heart. “Trey might be back anytime,” she whispered brokenly.
Barbara nodded and crawled over to the babies, who wriggled in their makeshift blankets. She kissed them tenderly and whispered to them. “Mommy loves you. Always remember that.” Then she turned her face away. “Go now. Please, Sage.”
Fighting tears, Sage pressed a bottle of water into Barbara’s grasp. She tried to get her to keep the flashlight, too, but Barbara wouldn’t hear of it, so she picked up the babies, her eyes overflowing and grief surging through her so strongly she thought it would stop her heart. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” She looked once more toward the tunnel where Trey had gone. Where are you?
And then she clutched the babies as tightly as she dared and ran.
* * *
Trey sloshed back through the water, fighting down the fear. The smoke was thicker now, which meant the fire had caught somewhere at the upper levels. He made it back to the lake in record time, shouting as he entered the chamber.
“Sage?”
There was no answer. His worst nightmare. “Sage!” he thundered again, and this time there was a reply, a weak one, from the foot of the ladder to the catwalk. He found Barbara quickly. “What happened?”
“She couldn’t carry us all so I told her to take the children. She found an exit at the rear.”
“How long ago?”
“Just a few minutes.”
“Perfect. All right. Let’s go.”
“You can’t carry me,” Barbara said, eyes round.
“Please, ma’am. You’re talking to a guy who’s used to a rucksack and forty-pound body armor. You’re a feather.” He got what he’d aimed for—a ghost of a smile from Barbara.
“You’ll make someone a good husband,” she said.
God willing. He lifted her as gently as he could manage, and though it would have been far easier to drape her over his shoulder, he carried her in his arms, her hands encircling his neck. The smoke smelled strong, and she turned her face toward his chest to avoid the fumes.
He found the exit quickly, grateful that it allowed him enough headroom to stand. The air smelled cleaner than in the chamber, and the floor was mercifully dry, seeming to slope upward from the underground chamber.
Forced to move slowly since he had no light to reveal any stumbling points, he pressed on.
Barbara spoke in his ear. “Sage thinks Derick is the one who locked me in the basement.”
Trey was unsure how to respond, so he didn’t.
She pressed. “I just want you to know it wasn’t him, it was Fred Tipley. He probably did it for ransom.”
“Oh,” he managed to say.
“Fred will come clean when we find him.”
He kept silent, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without stumbling.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Barbara pressed.
“This isn’t the time to work through the details. Let’s just get you out of here, okay?”
She squirmed in his arms. “You’re keeping something back from me. I want to know right now.”
He sighed. Determined women certainly did populate the family tree. She wanted the bare facts, and he’d give them to her. No sugarcoating. “We found Fred Tipley dead. He was shot.”
Barbara went still in his arms. She sucked in several breaths before she answered. “It wasn’t Derick,” she whispered. “It wasn’t.”
Sage couldn’t have much of a lead on them with babies to manage. The tunnel split into two. He stopped and listened, trying to detect any clue about which route she’d taken until his eyes fell on a saltwater taffy lying on the floor. About three yards ahead was another. He followed the candy trail Sage had left, smiling to himself.
“
I heard a cry,” Barbara said. They stopped to listen.
Trey had heard it, too. “Picking up the pace. Hold on.”
He was almost jogging now, knowing the jolting was painful to her and half fearing it might cause her to bleed if there had been damage from the delivery. The baby’s cry was shrill now, followed by a second wail.
“We’re close,” she breathed.
The tunnel widened and a flicker of light danced out of view a few yards ahead.
“Sage,” he called out, panting with the effort. “Wait up.”
He came to a stop after another yard. Sage stood in the middle of the tunnel, a baby in each arm. She stood stiffly, and as they drew closer he saw her jaw was clamped shut, lips thinned...in pain? In fear?
“What’s wrong?” he said.
Another figure stepped from the shadows. “I think she’s not very happy to see me,” Rosalind said, the gun in her hand trained steadily on Sage and the babies.
TWENTY
Sage rocked the babies mechanically, her vision shifting from Rosalind to Trey and Barbara. Slowly, Trey released Barbara, who leaned shakily against the wall.
“Rosalind?” Barbara gasped. “What in the world are you doing?”
Rosalind shone the light on Barbara’s face, forcing her to raise a hand to shield her eyes. “Barbara, even though you are nothing but trouble, I see you’ve managed to have the babies.” Her face shone eagerly. “Boys or girls or both? Hopefully they favor Derick. Doesn’t matter. We’ll be happy with any combination.”
Sage tried to warn Barbara to be quiet with a stern look that had no effect.
“We? Why would you say such a thing?” Barbara said. “Have you lost your senses?”
“No, Derick lost his senses when he married you.”
Barbara jerked as if she’d been slapped.
“Rosalind was the one who had Fred lock you down here,” Sage said.
