by Karen Leabo
“There could be,” Jenn argued. “We’re not far from Yellowstone Park. There could also be another Otis wandering around.”
Joe put his fists on his lean hips. “I have to go.”
“Maybe we should go with you,” Jenn suggested hopefully. An umpteen-mile hike wasn’t exactly her cup of tea, but it beat waiting around, wondering if anyone would ever rescue them.
Joe seemed to consider it, then shook his head. “I can cover a lot more ground alone.”
“Do you have a flashlight? There aren’t any streetlights out here, you know.”
He considered that, too. “I guess walking through the woods in pitch blackness might not be the smartest thing,” he conceded. “Tell you what. We’ll spend the night here, and I’ll start off at daylight tomorrow. That’ll give me plenty of time to reach a phone and get back.”
Cathy’s face lit up. “Oh, boy, a camp-out. Can we have a campfire and roast marshmallows?”
“I might be able to manage the fire,” he said, slamming the hood shut. “But I don’t have any marshmallows. How about roasting some hot dogs?”
Cathy nodded vigorously.
Jenn’s heart did a flip-flop. She knew her little girl had tried valiantly to dislike Joe. But bit by bit Joe had won Cathy over. Jenn would have resented that fact, except she could tell that Joe hadn’t set out to woo Cathy. He’d simply treated her decently, kindly, responding compassionately to her fears and insecurities. Jenn suspected that was just his way. She wondered why he’d never married or had kids. He’d be a natural.
And with that thought, Jenn was forced to admit that he’d won her over, too. It was sobering to realize that she no longer thought of him as the enemy, although his role in her life hadn’t changed.
Now, if only she could win him over....
And what? she asked herself contemptuously. He would fall in love with her and spirit her and Cathy off to some Mediterranean island, where they would never have to face Dennis or the criminal charges awaiting her in Rhymer? Where Cathy could grow up free from the shadow of fear and guilt that had plagued Jenn during her youth?
The fantasy had some appeal. It was also patently ridiculous. Anyway, she didn’t want to be a fugitive for the rest of her life. She wanted to be vindicated. She wanted Dennis put away.
Damn, she’d been over this. She couldn’t win against Dennis. She had no evidence against him except for her word, and he was too powerful, too esteemed in the community.
“Jenn? You with us?”
“Huh?” She’d spaced out there for a minute.
“I’m going to build a fire. If you and Cathy will collect some small branches for kindling, I’ll take care of the big stuff.”
“C’mon, Mama,” Cathy said, eagerly taking Jenn’s hand. “We got to find kindling.”
Resignedly, she trooped alongside Cathy into the woods. She supposed there was no way out of having a fire and roasting weenies. Next thing she knew, they’d be singing camp songs and telling ghost stories.
It wasn’t that she wouldn’t enjoy it. She was afraid she would like it too much. When the three of them were getting along, they seemed almost like a family. It was so easy to pretend that they were on a vacation, instead of headed back to Alabama to face jail time and the loss of her daughter.
That was dangerous thinking. Harsh reality would always reassert itself. Jenn preferred to keep her miserable situation firmly in mind. She didn’t like being reminded of the things she’d lost when Doug had died, the things she would never have.
Jenn wasn’t much of an outdoorswoman, as she’d already amply demonstrated. Backyards and flower beds were her limit. But she knew something about fires. She showed Cathy the kind of small, dry branches they would need, and the little girl gleefully began searching the forest floor for the proper twigs, as if it were an Easter egg hunt.
Within a few minutes Joe had a small, cheery blaze burning. Cathy, entranced with the novelty, made a game of throwing dry leaves and twigs into the flames under Joe’s watchful eye. Jenn didn’t worry. She knew, with a certainty that amazed her, that no harm would befall her baby while Joe was in charge.
If she could only convince him that her accusations against Dennis were true! That was the key. Then he would see the folly of trusting her precious child to an unsympathetic legal system.
Dusk fell as they made dinner preparations. Jenn was quiet while she cooked and ate her hot dog, allowing Joe and Cathy to carry all the conversation. If Joe noticed her unusual silence, he said nothing about it.
It was only when they were cleaning up and banking the fire that Jenn started thinking about where they would sleep. It was getting cold. She’d already zipped up her jacket and wrapped a scarf around her neck, and had helped Cathy do the same, but the chill still seeped through to her skin.
“How are we going to sleep?” she blurted.
Joe looked up from his task of emptying water out of the cooler, surprise and mild amusement reflected in his gaze. “Is that what you’ve been ruminating about for the past two hours?”
So, he’d noticed after all. “No, I only just thought of it,” she defended herself. “I’ve been quiet because I couldn’t think of anything to say. Isn’t that the excuse you gave me this morning? I’m not always real chatty, either.”
“Don’t get your dander up. I don’t mind your being quiet.” He opened the Monte Carlo’s trunk and put the cooler inside, then rummaged around among the other contents. “I’ve been thinking about the sleeping arrangements. I only have one sleeping bag, but there are a couple of blankets. You and Cathy can use them and sleep in the car, out of the wind. It’ll be cold, but you’ll survive it, I expect. I’ll take the sleeping bag and stretch out by the fire.”
Jenn nodded. The arrangements were actually less intimate than last night when he’d slept on the floor in her room. But for some reason it felt more intimate. Must be the fact that they were so alone out here in the woods, she thought with a shiver that wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.
A comfortable camaraderie enveloped the small camping party as they made final preparations for the night, using the car’s headlights and dome light to see by. Cathy was winding down, exhausted by the day’s excitement, her tummy full of hot dogs and graham crackers. Jenn wrapped her in an extra layer of clothing, then settled her in the back seat with the warmer of the two blankets, resigning herself to an uncomfortable night in the bucket seat in front.
Cathy fell asleep almost instantly.
Jean put on an extra pair of socks, brushed her teeth with water from the stream, and combed out her hair. All the while she was perfectly aware of Joe’s movements as he prepared for sleep.
First he wrapped up all of their trash and stowed it in the trunk, where it wouldn’t draw any unwanted nocturnal guests like raccoons or skunks. Next he shook out the orange nylon sleeping bag and laid it close to the dying fire. Then he sat on a log and pulled off his boots, then his belt. Illuminated only by the glow of the fire, he looked heart-stoppingly handsome. His posture was relaxed, his face solemn, gilded in orange.
“Can I turn off the lights?” Jenn called to him.
He looked up. “Uh, yeah, sure. I was just waiting for you to get done.”
“All right, then.” She felt suddenly awkward. “Good night.”
“’Night. I’m right here if you need anything.”
She shut and locked both car doors and turned out the light. From the security of the darkened car, Jenn peeked out the window at him, expecting to see him crawling into the sleeping bag. Instead he began unbuttoning his shirt.
Why in the heck was he taking off his clothes?
She told herself to look away and go to sleep, but she couldn’t seem to make herself. Entranced, she continued to stare as he pulled off the Western-style button-down, revealing a white sleeveless undershirt. With slow, economical movements he shucked his jeans, folded them and set them beside his boots.
“Handsome” was too mild a word to describe Joe, she th
ought, her breath catching in her throat. In another age, Michelangelo could have used him for a model. Clothed only in white briefs and the undershirt, the flames casting flickering glow and shadow across his tanned skin, he inspired in her a wanting so sharp it shocked her.
“Get in that damn sleeping bag,” she muttered, knowing she couldn’t put a stop to her voyeurism until there was nothing left to see.
Finally he hunkered down and crawled into the bag. With a sigh she turned and tried to get comfortable. But the image of his almost nude form was burned into her brain. She didn’t have the luxury of tossing and turning in her cramped confines. But she knew that even if she had a soft bed to sleep in, and even if she wasn’t freezing, she wouldn’t get much sleep this night.
Joe was surprisingly comfortable and warm. But his sleeping bag was an expensive one, suitable for subzero temperatures. He hoped it wouldn’t be put to the test. He could tell that the mercury was dropping quickly, though, and he worried about the ladies. Maybe he should have offered them the sleeping bag. They probably could have both squeezed into it. And the fire offered some warmth. In fact, maybe the three of them could have snuggled against the cold....
Good Lord, what was he thinking? He almost laughed out loud. Just because Jenn had been almost pleasant to him today didn’t mean she would tolerate anything remotely resembling snuggling, no matter what the weather.
He was really off base.
Go to sleep, he ordered himself. And for a time, he did. What woke him was the rain.
“Holy sh—” Instantly awake as his face was pelted by drops of cold water, he scrambled out of the bag, grabbed up his clothes, and ran in the general direction of the car, although it was so dark he couldn’t even see the vehicle’s vague outline. He crashed into the rear bumper, hissed out a curse, then felt his way to the driver’s door.
It was locked.
The keys, where were the damn keys? While he felt around for his jeans, and then the pocket, he was slowly getting soaked.
Oh, hang it. He banged on the window, which immediately produced a startled scream.
“Jenn? Jenn! Wake up, it’s me.”
A moment later he heard the electric door lock pop up. He jerked open the door, instantly throwing the interior into light, and dived inside. His movements were hampered by the bulky sleeping bag, and it took him several tries to get everything inside and shut the door again.
Jenn sputtered the entire time, though she spoke in a frantic whisper. “What—who—ohmigod, I thought you were a bear trying to get into the car. What are you doing in here in your...your...”
“Skivvies?” he offered, keeping his voice low in deference to Cathy, though she wasn’t stirring that he could tell.
“Something like that.” Jenn sounded breathless.
“You looked.”
“How could I help it?”
“You could have closed your eyes.”
She sighed in obvious exasperation. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here? There’s... not really a bear or anything, is there?”
He laughed. “Listen.”
“What?”
“Listen.” The rain, growing heavier, pattered against the roof.
“Oh. It’s raining.”
“Cold doesn’t bother me much. Cold and wet is another story. You don’t mind if I bunk here for a few hours, do you?”
“Would it matter if I did?”
“I might at least feel guilty.”
“Ha.” She yawned now that the excitement was over.
Joe wondered how he could wrap the sleeping bag around himself in the close confines of the car. His teeth were chattering. “Are you warm enough?”
“No. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Sure there was, Joe thought guiltily. “There’s always body heat.” The words popped out. When Jenn remained ominously silent, he added, “I’ll let you use the sleeping bag. It does a great job of holding in your body heat.”
“Oh.” She expelled a long breath. “I thought...I mean, um, never mind.”
“Jenn.” He tried to sound shocked. “Have I been anything less than a gentleman?”
“No,” she answered without hesitation.
“Not even for a moment?”
“No.”
“And have I ever come on to you?”
“No.” Was that a tinge of regret he heard in her voice? “I can’t imagine that you’d be interested in a penniless, jobless, possibly crazy widowed mom who’s headed for jail. It’s late, I’m punchy and I’m not sleeping very well.”
Joe immediately felt guilty for having toyed with her. “You imagine wrong, honey,” he said in a burst of honesty. “Under other circumstances, I’d be very interested. Here, take the sleeping bag.” He thrust it toward her.
“No, you keep it,” she said, an odd note in her voice. “I’m warm enough now, thanks.”
Those were the last words they exchanged for a long time. Joe knew he must have slept, because the next thing he was aware of, a tinge of pink was creeping into the eastern sky. And Cathy was screaming.
“No, no, no!” she cried, then whimpered. “Go away. I want Mama.”
Joe, his heart beating ninety-to-nothing, fumbled for the dome light switch. He craned his neck to see into the back seat, terrified of what he might find. But there was no blood, no fire. Cathy had kicked off her blanket and was flailing her arms and legs, obviously caught in the throes of a nightmare.
He’d never seen Jenn move so fast. She dived through the space between the bucket seats, instantly to her daughter’s rescue. “Cathy, punkin, wake up,” she said, loudly but somehow gently, too. “I’m here. Mama’s here.”
Cathy stilled and opened her eyes. She peered blearily at Jenn. “Mama?”
“I’m here. It was just a bad dream. You’re safe.” Jenn put her arms around her daughter, and the two of them hugged tightly. “Was it the same dream?”
“No.” Cathy looked around fearfully, as if she expected the monster that had plagued her dreams to materialize right there in the car.
“You want to tell me about it?”
She shook her head.
Joe looked away, focusing his gaze into the blackness on the other side of the windshield. He felt as if he was intruding on a very private moment, but there was nowhere for him to retreat.
“Talking about it might help you not to be afraid,” Jenn coaxed. “Dreams lose their power if you tell them out loud. Sometimes they sound so silly when you put them into words, that you just end up laughing about them.”
Cathy was quiet. Then she whispered, so softly that Joe barely caught the words, “It was about Grandpa.”
Joe’s skin tingled and his attention sharpened. He looked over his shoulder at the drama unfolding in the back seat.
“Uh-huh, and what did Grandpa do?” Jenn was obviously trying to sound matter-of-fact, but Joe could hear the thread of alarm in her voice.
“Nothin’, really. He just came into my room and looked at me.”
“Was he mad at you?”
“No.” Then she seemed to change her mind. “I’m not sure.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He, um, I think he said I should kiss him good-night, but I didn’t want to.”
All the air seemed to whoosh out of Joe’s lungs. “Why didn’t you want to?” Jenn asked, not even bothering to hide her distress anymore.
“Because his face is all bristly and he smells like the peat moss in Grandma’s garden shed.”
Jenn seemed to slump in relief. She gave Cathy another hug. “Oh, Cathy, all men have bristly cheeks at night. Someday you might even learn to like it.” Her gaze darted over her shoulder toward Joe.
He rubbed his chin. Bristly, all right. Would Jenn find it pleasant? He didn’t even bother to censor the thought, or chastise himself for his unprofessionalism. His growing desire for Jenn Montgomery was impossible to deny or ignore anymore. He allowed the raw ache of lust to wash over him, for
once not trying to squelch it.
Cathy wrinkled her nose. “Don’t think I’ll ever like it.”
Jenn laughed. “So what else happened in this dream?”
Cathy again appeared thoughtful. “I dunno. I don’t remember. I just know I was scared.”
Jenn grew serious. “Cathy, I know I’ve asked you this before, but I want you to think about it again, think about it real hard before you answer. Has Grandpa ever touched you? You know, under your clothes?”
The little girl shook her head without hesitation.
“What about when he gives you a bath?”
“He doesn’t do that, Grandma does.”
“Does he come into your room at night to read to you, or tuck you in, then lie down with you?”
Cathy seemed to think about this one. “He reads to me sometimes, but he sits in the rocking chair. I pretend like I go to sleep real fast so he’ll stop reading and leave.”
“Cathy.” Joe’s voice sounded harsh and very masculine, even to him.
Both ladies looked at him, surprised, as if they’d forgotten he was there.
“Why don’t you like your grandpa? Are you sure he hasn’t been mean to you?”
“No, he’s not mean,” Cathy answered, again without hesitation. She’d said the same thing when he’d asked her that question in their Seattle hotel room two days ago. Yet her big blue eyes registered definite discomfort. “But he still scares me.”
“Why?” Jenn asked, sounding desperate. It seemed to Joe that she feared hearing the worst. Yet, if Cathy could confirm Jenn’s accusations, he would be forced to believe in the danger. He would have to help them, and Jenn knew that. Certainly she understood by now that he would never knowingly allow anyone to hurt Cathy.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Joe heard himself saying. “No matter what you tell us, you won’t get in trouble.”
“Even if Grandpa told you not to tell,” Jenn added.
Cathy merely looked confused. She shrugged.
Jenn sighed and ruffled her daughter’s tousled blond curls. “Think you could go back to sleep now?”
Cathy yawned in response. “Uh-huh.”
“And the dream can’t hurt you, right?”
