by Nora Roberts
“I don’t ride.”
“I can teach you.”
She began to walk again. “Scenic guide, riding instructor.”
“That’s what I do, mostly, out of the Circle K. Guest ranch about twenty miles out. I can get the cook there to pack up a nice picnic, get you a gentle mount. Can promise you a day you’ll write home about.”
“I’m sure you would.” She’d like to hear the rocks clack, and see the moraines and meadows. And right now, with that spectacular moonlight, it was almost tempting to let him show her. “I’ll think about it. Here’s my stop.”
“I’ll walk you up.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m—”
“My mother taught me to walk a lady right to her door.”
He took her arm again, casually, and opened the door to the hotel. He smelled, she noticed, appealingly of leather and pine.
“Evening, Tom,” he called out to the clerk on night duty.
“Lo. Ma’am.”
And Reece saw the ghost of a smirk in the clerk’s eyes.
When Lo turned toward the elevator, Reece pulled back. “I’m just on the third floor. I’m going to walk up.”
“One of those exercise nuts, are you? Must be why you stay so slim.” But he changed direction smoothly, then pulled open the door to the stairs.
“I appreciate you going to all this trouble.” She ordered herself not to panic because the stairwell seemed so much smaller with him beside her. “I certainly dropped into a friendly town.”
“Wyoming’s a friendly state. May not be many of us here, but we’re congenial. I heard you were from Boston.”
“Yes.”
“First time out this way?”
“That’s right.” One more flight, then the door would open.
“Taking some time off to see the country?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s exactly right.”
“Brave thing to do, all by yourself.”
“Is it?”
“Shows a sense of adventure.”
She would have laughed, but she was too relieved when he held the door open for her and she stepped out into the hall on three. “I’m right here.” She dug out her key card, automatically glancing down to make sure the tape across the door was secured.
Before she could slide the key card into the slot, he took it from her, did the small chore himself. He opened the door, then handed the key back to her. “Left all your lights on,” he commented. “TV running.”
“Oh, I guess I did. Overanxious to start work. Thanks, Lo, for the escort.”
“My pleasure. We’re going to get you up on a horse right soon. You’ll see.”
She managed a smile. “I’ll think about it. Thanks again. Good night.”
She eased through the doorway, shut the door. Flipped the dead bolt, then hooked the safety chain. Moving to the far side of the bed, she sat where she could look out the window, at all that open space, until she no longer had to work to keep her breath even.
Steadier, she went back to check the peep to make sure the hallway was clear before she pushed a chair against the door. Once she’d checked the locks again, and the sturdiness of the dresser blocking the door to the adjoining room, she got ready for bed. She set the alarm on the clock radio for five, then used her own travel alarm as a backup.
She updated her journal, then bargained with herself over how many lights she could leave burning through the night. It was her first night in a new place; she was entitled to leave the light on the desk burning, and the one in the bathroom. The bathroom didn’t really count anyway. That was just for safety and convenience. She might have to get up in the middle of the night to pee.
She took her flashlight out of her knapsack, set it by the bed. There could be a power failure, caused by a fire. She wasn’t the only one in the hotel, after all. Someone could fall asleep smoking in bed, or some kid could be playing with matches.
God knew.
The whole building could go up in flames at threeA.M. for all she knew. Then she’d have to get out quickly. Having the flashlight close was just being prepared.
The little tickle in her chest made her think longingly of the sleeping pills in her bathroom kit. Those and the antidepressants, the antianxiety medications were just a security blanket, she reminded herself. It had been months since she’d taken a sleeping pill, and she was tired enough tonight to sleep without help. Besides, if therewas a fire and power failure, she’d be groggy and slow. End up burning to death or dying of smoke inhalation.
And the idea of that had her sitting on the side of the bed with her head in her hands cursing herself for having an overactive and foolish imagination.
“Just stop it, Reece. Stop it now and go to bed. You’ve got to get up early and perform basic functions like a normal human being.”
She made one more round with the locks before getting into bed. She lay very still, listening to her heart thud, listening for sounds from the next room, from the hallway, from outside the window.
Safe, she told herself. She was perfectly safe. There wasn’t going to be a fire. A bomb wasn’t going to explode. No one was going to break into her room to murder her in her sleep.
The sky was not going to fall.
But she kept the TV on low and used the old black-and-white melodrama to lull her to sleep.
THE PAIN WAS so shocking, so vicious, she couldn’t scream over it. The black, the anvil of black plummeted onto her chest to trap her. It crushed her lungs so she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The hammer beat on that anvil, pounding her head, her chest, slamming, slamming down on her. She tried to gasp for air, but the pain was too much, and the fear was beyond even the pain.
They were out there, outside in the dark. She could hear them, hear the glass shattering, the explosions. And worse, the screaming.
Worse than the screaming, the laughing.
Ginny? Ginny?
No, no, don’t cry out, don’t make a sound. Better to die here in the dark than for them to find her. But they were coming, they were coming for her, and she couldn’t hold back the whimpers, couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering.
The sudden light was blinding, and the wild screams that burst in her head came out as feral growls.
“We’ve got a live one.”
And she slapped and kicked weakly at hands that reached for her.
Woke in a sweat, with those growls in her throat as she grabbed for the flashlight and gripped it like a weapon.
Was someone there? Someone at the door? At the window?
She sat shivering, shaking, ears straining for any sound.
An hour later, when her alarms beeped, she was sitting up in bed, the flashlight still in her hand, and every light in the room burning.
3
AFTER THE GUT-SHOT of panic, it was hard to face the kitchen, the people, the pretense of being normal. But not only was she essentially broke, she’d given her word. Six o’clock sharp.
Her only other choice was to go back, retreat, and all the months she’d been inching forward would be wiped away. One phone call, she knew, and she’d be rescued.
And she’d be done.
She took it a step at a time. Getting dressed was a victory, leaving the room another. Stepping outside and aiming her feet toward the diner was a small personal triumph. The air was cold—winter still had a few bites left—so her breath puffed out visibly in the shimmer of predawn. The mountains were dark and sturdy silhouettes against the sky now that the night’s fat moon had sunk below the peaks. And she could see a long, low blanket of fog spread out at their feet. Fingers of mist rose from the lake and whisked around the leafless trees, thin as fairy wings.
In the chilly dark, it all looked so fanciful, so still, so perfectly balanced. Her heart jumped once as something slid out of those mists. Then settled again as she saw it was just an animal.
Moose, elk, deer, she couldn’t be sure at this distance. But whatever it was seemed to glide, and the mists tattered around
it as it moved closer to the lake.
As it bent its head to drink, Reece heard the first chorus of birdsong. Part of her wanted to just sit down, right on the sidewalk, and be quietly alone to watch the sun rise.
Soothed, she began to walk again. She’d have to face the kitchen, the people, the questions that always circled around the new face in any job. She couldn’t afford to be late, to be nervous, and God knew she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than absolutely necessary.
Stay calm, she ordered herself. Stay focused. To help her do just that she recited snatches of poetry in her head, concentrating on the rhythm of the words until she realized she was murmuring them out loud, and cringed. No one around to hear, she reminded herself, and the distraction got her to the door of Angel Food.
The lights burned bright inside, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She could see movement inside—Joanie, already in the kitchen. Did the woman ever sleep?
She had to knock on the door, Reece told herself. Knock, put a smile on her face, wave. Once she took this next step, once she pushed herself inside, she’d drown this anxiety in the work.
But her arm felt like lead and refused to move. Her fingers were too stiff, too cold to curl themselves into a fist. She stood where she was, feeling stupid, useless, helpless.
“Problem with the door?”
She jolted, swung around. And there was Linda-gail slamming the driver’s door of a sturdy little compact.
“No. No. I was just—”
“Zoning? You don’t look as if you got much sleep last night.”
“I guess I was. I guess I didn’t.”
The already cold air chilled with every step Linda-gail took toward her. The bright blue eyes, so friendly the day before, were aloof, dismissive. “Am I late?”
“Surprised you showed up at all with the night you must’ve put in.”
Reece thought of huddling in bed, gripping the flashlight, listening. Listening. “How do you—”
“Lo’s got a reputation for endurance.”
“Lo? I don’t—Oh!” Surprise laced with amusement jumped right over the nerves. “No, we didn’t—Ididn’t. God, Linda-gail, I met him for like ten minutes. I have to know a guy at least an hour before I test his endurance.”
Linda-gail lowered the hand she’d lifted to the door, narrowed her eyes at Reece. “You didn’t go to bed with Lo?”
“No.” This, at least, she could handle. “Did I break some secret town tradition? Am I going to be fired? Arrested? If being a skank is part of the job requirement, it should’ve been made clear up front and I should be making more than eight an hour.”
“That clause is voluntary. Sorry.” Through a flush, the dimples winked. “Really sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed and jumped on you just because you left together.”
“He walked me back to the hotel, suggested a drink, which I didn’t want, and shifted to showing me the area, which I can see for myself, then maybe a trail ride. I don’t ride, but I may give that part a try. He gets a ten on the cute-factor scale, and another ten on behavior and manners. I didn’t realize you two had a thing.”
“A thing? Me and Lo?” Linda-gail made a dismissive blowing sound. “We don’t. I’m probably the only single female under fifty in a hundred miles who hasn’t slept with him. A slut’s a slut in my book, whether they’re a man or a woman.”
She shrugged, then once again studied Reece’s face. “Anyway, you really do look worn out.”
“Didn’t sleep well, that’s all. First night in a new place, new job. Nerves.”
“Put them away,” Linda-gail ordered as she opened the door, and the warmth was back in her eyes. “We’re not scary around here.”
“Wondered if you two were going to stand out there and gab all day. I’m not paying you to gossip.”
“It’s five after six, for God’s sake, Joanie. Dock me. Oh, speaking of pay, here’s your share of last night’s tips, Reece.”
“My share? I didn’t wait any tables.”
Linda-gail pushed the envelope into Reece’s hands. “Shop policy, the cook gets ten percent of the tips. We get tipped for service, but if the food’s crap, we’re not going to make as much.”
“Thanks.” Not completely broke, Reece thought as she stuffed the envelope in her pocket.
“Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“If you’re finished passing the time now?” Joanie folded her arms at the counter. “Get those breakfast setups going, Linda-gail. Reece, you think you’re ready to get your skinny ass back here and work?”
“Yes, ma’am. Oh, and just to clear the air,” she added as she rounded the counter for an apron, “your son’s very charming, but I slept alone last night.”
“Boy must be slipping.”
“I couldn’t say. I intend to continue to sleep alone while I’m in Angel’s Fist.”
Joanie set aside a bowl of pancake batter. “Don’t like sex?”
“I like it fine.” Reece moved to the sink to wash her hands. “It’s just not on my to-do list at the moment.”
“Must be a pretty sad, short list then. Can you make huevos rancheros?”
“I can.”
“They’re popular on Sundays. So are flapjacks. You go on, start frying up bacon and sausage. Early crowd’ll be right along.”
Shortly before noon, Joanie pushed a plate holding a short stack, a scoop of scrambled eggs and a side of bacon into Reece’s hand. “Go on, take this into the back room. Sit down and eat.”
“There’s enough for two people here.”
“Yeah, if both of them are anorexic.”
“I’m not.” She forked up a bite of the eggs as if to prove it.
“Go take it back in my office and sit. You got twenty.”
She’d seen the office, androom was a very generous term. “Listen, I’ve got a problem with small spaces.”
“Afraid of the dark, and claustrophobic. You’re a bundle of phobias. Sit out at the counter, then. You’ve still got twenty.”
She did what she was told, sitting at the end of the counter. A moment later, Linda-gail put a cup of tea beside her, gave her a wink.
“Hey, Doc.” Linda-gail gave the counter a swipe, sent a good-morning smile to the man who slid onto the stool beside Reece. “Usual?”
“Sunday cholesterol special, Linda-gail. My day to walk on the wild side.”
“You got it. Joanie,” she called back without bothering with a ticket. “Doc’s here. Doc, this is Reece, our new cook. Reece, meet Doc Wallace. He’ll treat anything that ails you. But don’t let him pull you into a poker game. He’s a slick one.”
“Now, now, how am I going to fleece the newcomers if you talk like that?” He shifted on his stool, gave Reece a nod. “Heard Joanie got herself somebody knew what they were doing in the kitchen. How’s it going for you?”
“So far, so good.” She had to make an effort and remind herself it wasn’t as if he was wearing a lab coat and coming at her with needles. “I like the work.”
“Best Sunday breakfast in Wyoming at Joanie’s. Now the hotel, they put on a big buffet for the tourists, but the smart money’s right here.” He settled back with the coffee Linda-gail put in front of him. “You go right on and eat that while it’s hot.”
Instead of looking at it, he thought, like the food on the plate was a puzzle to be solved. He’d been the town doctor for nearly thirty years, and so he told her. He’d come as a young man, answering an ad the town council had placed in the Laramie paper. And so he told Reece as she played with her food.
“Looking for adventure,” he said in a voice with the barest hint of rural western twang. “Fell in love with the place, and a pretty brown-eyed girl named Susan. Raised three kids here. Oldest is a doctor himself—first-year intern—in Cheyenne. Middle one, our Annie, married a fella takes pictures for theNational Geographic magazine. They moved all the way out to Washington, D.C. Got a grandson there, too. Youngest is in California, working on a degree in p
hilosophy. Don’t know what the hell he’s going to philosophize about, but there you go. Lost my Susan two years back to breast cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s a hard, hard thing.” He glanced down at his wedding ring. “Still look for her beside me when I wake up in the morning. Expect I always will.”
“Here you go, Doc.” Linda-gail set a plate in front of him, and both of them laughed when Reece goggled at it. “He’ll eat every bite, too,” Linda-gail said before she headed off.
There was a stack of pancakes, an omelet, a thick slice of ham, a generous portion of home fries and a trio of link sausages.
“You really can’t eat all that.”
“Watch and learn, little girl. Watch and learn.”
He looked fit, Reece thought, in his plaid shirt and sensible cardigan. Like someone who ate healthy meals and got a reasonable amount of exercise. His face was ruddy and lean, with a pair of clear hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.
Yet he tucked into the enormous breakfast like a long-haul trucker.
“You got family back East?” he asked her.
“Yes, my grandmother in Boston.”
“That where you learned to cook?”
She couldn’t take her eyes off the way the food was disappearing. “Yes, where I started. I went to the New England Culinary Institute in Vermont, then a year in Paris at the Cordon Bleu.”
“Culinary Institute.” Doc wiggled his eyebrows. “And Paris. Fancy.”
“Sorry?” She realized abruptly she had said more about her background in two minutes than she normally did to anyone in two weeks. “More intense, actually. I’d better get back to work. It was nice meeting you.”
Reece worked through the lunch shift, and with the rest of the afternoon and evening stretched out in front of her decided to take a long walk. She could circle the lake, maybe explore some of the forests and streams. She could take pictures and e-mail them to her grandmother and, between the fresh air, the exercise, tire herself out.
She changed into her hiking boots, outfitted her backpack precisely as her guidebook recommended for hikes under ten miles. Outside again, she found a spot near the lake to sit and read over the handout brochures she’d gotten from the hotel.
