“Emily Van Arsdale.” Matt stepped out of the resort office and strode toward her.
The use of her full name caused Emily to scan the area to see if anybody had overheard. In the window of the trailer where she’d heard the kids playing, a woman’s head popped up. Emily sent her a small smile before stepping into Matt’s embrace.
“Matthew Lake.” Emily returned his enthusiasm, feeling tall next to Tracen’s shortest brother after having gotten used to being in Tracen’s arms.
Matt stepped back. “So you want to fly in my little plane? For some reason, I thought you had an invisible jet.”
Emily forced herself to laugh at the Wonder Woman reference. Had he made the joke at the Fourth of July picnic, she would have found it hilarious. Now it only reminded her how much she was giving up. She really could have gotten used to four brothers-in-law.
“Invisible jets aren’t very practical. I forgot where I landed mine, and now I can’t find it.”
Matt chuckled, grabbing two of her suitcases and leading the way toward the dock. “So how are you doing?”
Emily swung her purse strap over her shoulder and trailed after him with her carry-on. She’d hoped to avoid this conversation. Her attempt at humor had been pathetic, but at least it was safe. Maybe she could pretend Matt was making small talk. She’d give the standard response. “I’m fine.” No need to get deep.
Matt’s slanted glance told her he didn’t buy it. “Well, I’m surprised Sam didn’t make a move on you now that Tracen is out of the picture.”
Their footsteps echoed on the wood planks floating over the sur-face of the water. Emily looked down, watching where she walked, avoiding eye contact. She couldn’t force herself to make jokes about the breakup yet. “Mmm.” Could that be considered a response?
Matt tucked her belongings into a storage compartment. He turned to face her, his narrow gray eyes studying her. “I’m sorry Tracen is such an idiot.”
A laugh burst from between her lips. She hadn’t expected Tracen’s family to be on her side. She didn’t know how much Matt had been told, but he’d assessed the situation correctly. She’d fallen for an idiot. Which made her a fool for love. They would have been a good pair.
“I knew he had issues going into the relationship. I shouldn’t have expected him to change for me.” No, she wasn’t responsible for the choices of others, but she was responsible for her choices.
“I shouldn’t have even considered making another movie after telling him I wanted to move back to Idaho.” Why couldn’t she have tried to see things from Tracen’s perspective?
“I don’t think you were wrong, Emily. Tracen needs to get over his obsession with staying in Sun Valley.” He crossed and uncrossed his arms. “But if you wish you’d chosen to stick with the idiot, then it’s not too late. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to fly you to California.”
Emily clasped her hands together. The offer pulled at her emotions like they were a wakeboarder on the end of a towrope. Picking up speed, cutting across the wake, pulling a 360… wiping out. Adrenaline diluted. “Tracen doesn’t need me anymore. Serena came home.”
Matt’s arms dropped to his sides. “You’re kidding. He’s taking her back?”
Emily shrugged and scuffed at an uneven plank with the toe of her flip-flop.
Matt blinked and shook his head. “No wonder he didn’t want to talk on the phone. I’ll be stopping back here on my return trip to Boise to kick his tushy. Or maybe I’ll get Sam to do it. Then I can watch.”
Matt’s reaction confirmed her fears. He certainly wasn’t trying to convince her to stay in Sun Valley anymore. She’d been replaced. No, worse. She’d been the other woman. Tracen had loved Serena all along.
Tracen’s brother stepped forward and gripped her shoulders, firm and hard. “Now I’m really sorry, Emily. You deserve so much better.”
Better. When Tracen sat her on the counter at her mom’s, he’d asked if it was better. And she’d replied that it was the best.
There was nobody better for her than Tracen. Her heart knew it, and that’s why it felt like a deflated balloon within her chest.
Matt’s muttering drew her attention back to him. What had he been talking about? “I’ve actually got to pick up my boss at LAX this afternoon, so flying you down is not out of my way at all. Let me do my preflight inspection before we take off. If you want to go get a soda in the office, it would probably be a more comfortable place to wait.”
Emily sighed. Prolonging her departure only intensified the longing to stay. “Okay, thanks.”
She trudged toward the office where, in a trance, she sipped a soda, signed autographs, and smiled for pictures. The mom from the trailer must have been watching for her chance to pounce. And the receptionist gave Emily so much attention that she didn’t even answer the phone when it rang. What would they all think if they knew she’d rather stay in Idaho and become their neighbors than make a sequel to her hit movie?
****
TRACEN STRODE TO HIS office and punched in Emily’s phone number. His Emily. He laughed. All by himself in his office he laughed.
He’d been such a moron. It took Honey proposing to Howie to snap him out of it. He wanted what they had. Why wait? He’d propose to Emily today if he could.
She’d be so shocked. She might even say no. But he still wouldn’t let her go. He’d follow her to Tinseltown. Maybe he could even be an extra in Wonder Woman II. He had the experience now. Ha! He should write a resume.
Emily’s voice mail. Not even a ring. Either the cell battery was dead, or she’d turned it off. That figured. “Hi, you’ve reached Emily Van Arsdale,” her clear voice practically bounced. If she wanted to keep acting after her movie career, maybe she could get a job reading audio books. He’d pay to listen to her. But he had to reach her first.
Shoot. He’d call his brother, but if Matt was in the air, he’d have his cell turned off. Hopefully he hadn’t picked Emily up already, and that’s why she wasn’t responding. He needed to catch them before they left.
Emily would still have to make her movie, but she could wait a little longer before she left Sun Valley — before they both left Sun Valley. Oh, it wasn’t going to be easy to leave. His dreams had finally fallen into place. But without Emily, his dreams felt more like nightmares.
Clicking to his Google app on his phone, he typed in marina. Where was his brother landing again? At Redfish Lake. The best dock would be at the lodge. He added “Redfish Lake Lodge.”
He held his breath and waited for his phone to dial the office. Four rings. Then the answering service.
He slammed down the receiver. Now what? Running both hands through his hair, he tugged on the roots in frustration. Could he get the airport to radio Matt’s plane? No, he didn’t know the call sign.
Tracen pushed to his feet and glanced at his watch. How much time did he have? Serena had come straight over after talking to Emily at the resort. It would have taken Emily longer to get to Redfish Lodge than it would have for Serena to get to The Point. After that Matt would have to load the plane and do his little safety routine before departing. Maybe, if Tracen hurried, he could chase her down in time.
Howie appeared in the doorway with a goofy grin. “How about a double wedding?”
A buzz of energy zapped through Tracen. He had to get his prospective bride back before any wedding talk. But when he did, he didn’t know if he could wait for a traditional ceremony. Wouldn’t an elopement create a sensation for the tabloids?
He slapped Howie on the shoulder before charging past. “Love ya, Howie. Congratulations. Gotta go.”
Howie grabbed his arm to stop him. “Wait.”
Tracen didn’t have time to wait. Every fraction of a second counted. His heart ticked them off as a reminder. “We’ll talk about the wedding later. Besides, dude, the women will be the ones planning it all anyway.”
“What?” Howie squinted in confusion. “I don’t want to talk about the wedding. I’m talking about
the future Mrs. Lake. Did you call her?”
Tracen huffed. If Emily got away today, he’d make Howie help bring her back from the L.A. area. They’d be the rafting version of the movie Urban Cowboys — calling for the taxi driver to row hard right and wearing a life vest to the beach.
“I tried calling her, but got her voice mail. I’m going to have to speed over to the marina.” And speed he would. He’d take Sam’s motorcycle and ride right onto the dock if he had to. He’d finally decided to go after the life he wanted, and he wasn’t going to stop now.
“Stop.”
Tracen turned to face Howie, balling his hands into fists. This was ridiculous. The whole restaurant ganged up on him to get him to give up everything for Emily, and then when he did, his best friend tried to sabotage their reunion. “This better be good, Howie.”
Howie simply pointed to a disgruntled crowd pushing through the entrance. “Highway 75 is closed for construction.”
Not good. Worse than not good. Bad.
Unless the road closed before Emily left. Then maybe she was a part of the crowd streaming in. His pulse throbbed, sending blood through his veins with the force of whitewater. In that case he might have her back within the minute.
Howie snapped his fingers in front of Tracen’s face. “It just happened.”
Tracen’s urgency subsided as the cloud of defeat threatened to rain down on him. He listened to what he could hear of Howie’s explanation over the internal windstorm that blew away his hope.
“Earlier they’d closed down one lane so that east and westbound traffic had to take turns.” Howie shrugged. “Then I guess a dump truck accidentally spilled its load across the open lane. It’ll be a little while before traffic can get through again, but I’m guessing it happened after Emily left.”
Tracen kicked a nearby barstool to keep from spewing negativity. The pressure of the connection jarred his big toe, bringing with it a burning sensation. The stool tilted in slow motion before clattering to the floor. The damage didn’t compare to the turmoil inside, and he stepped forward to kick something else.
Howie gripped his arms from behind and spun him towards the office before he could rip the breakfast bar apart. “Cool it, Trace.”
Tracen pulled away. Hands off. He already felt caged. He didn’t need to be held down as well.
“There’s nothing else I can do, Howie. I’m stuck. I took too long to act.”
Howie lifted an eyebrow. “All in God’s timing, my friend.”
Tracen threw his hands in the air. “God’s timing would have been days ago, but I wasn’t listening.” Now he was being punished. He wasn’t as good at spending time in The Word the way Emily was. He could learn so much from her — if he could ever get to her.
Her and her pink bible. And her study on water. Water…
Tracen looked out the window toward the river, barely hearing Howie’s latest sermon.
“So Samuel anointed David king, but he had to wait on God’s timing and trust that—”
“David did a lot of wise things.” Tracen interrupted, a plan forming in his head. David also did a lot of foolish things. And Tracen was going to follow David’s lead, though he didn’t know if it was a wise or foolish choice.
“Remember how David captured Jerusalem?” Tracen didn’t wait for a response. He took off for the stairs.
Howie trotted after him. “Yeah, he used a water tunnel to sneak into the…” Howie doubled his pace and caught up to Tracen on the landing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m using the water route, exactly like David did.” Tracen quickened his pace as he thundered down the stairs and out the back door.
Howie didn’t follow, thank goodness. Tracen knew he would try to talk some sense into him. Remind him where he got his scar.
Fear whispered in Tracen’s ear, but he didn’t have time to listen. He owed it to Emily. If she saw him arriving by raft, she would know he’d done it for her.
He ripped his life vest off the peg in the shed and donned a helmet before grabbing an oar. This was it. The ride of his life. If he survived.
“Tracen Lake!” Honey hollered from the balcony.
Howie hadn’t retreated. He’d merely called in reinforcements.
“I will not allow you to raft a class six. It’s not safe. Come back in.”
“Can’t, Honey.” Tracen pushed the top raft from the pile onto the hard-packed dirt. “If I’m conquering fears today, I might as well beat them all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EMILY ADJUSTED HER STIFF SEATBELT WHILE Matt slammed the flimsy plane door closed. This was it. The end.
She surveyed the confusing panel of dials, gauges, and levers for a moment before turning toward the window. The beauty of the nature around her made the cockpit seem even stuffier. If only it could suffocate her emotions.
Settling into her melancholy, Emily forced herself to acknowledge Matt’s presence as he climbed in and started the ignition. Vibrations thrummed through her in a way that she normally would have found thrilling. Now, however, she was just glad the noise from the engine would prevent conversation.
The sun glistened off the water, almost blinding in its intensity. Memories of her last visit to the lake flooded her thoughts. That had been the first time Tracen had allowed himself to enjoy being with her. He’d joked about Howie and opened up about Honey. Then his mood had changed, and he’d taken off unexpectedly. Why had she expected any more from him this time?
Sure, she was the one actually taking off, but he’d arranged it for her. Maybe she should be thankful. She needed to get away from him. Hiding herself in the Lord hadn’t really been working. As she continued her Bible study on water, the verses taunted her.
“Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away…”
Not quite a hopeful thought when she was trying to get over a broken heart. She never should have even considered opening to Song of Songs. But it wasn’t the worst verse. No, the quote from Isaiah that she’d always considered part of her favorite worship song now haunted her.
“Come, all who are thirsty, come to the waters…”
Of course, she shouldn’t have taken it so literally, but she couldn’t help thinking that she’d come to the waters, and now she had to leave before she drowned.
****
HE WAS GOING TO drown. Tracen’s nose burned as icy water surged up his nostrils. Every gasp for air only choked him with another mouthful of raging whitewater.
What had he been thinking rushing out all by himself? He hadn’t wanted to put anyone else in danger, but if he got thrown out of the raft, there would be nobody to pull him back in. If he got knocked unconscious, who would make sure his head stayed above water? If he got stranded on a rock with his chest sliced open again, nobody would know to call an ambulance. He could soon join statistics by becoming one of the fifty rafters to die every year.
The raft plunged deeper, jerking sideways in the roiling water. Tracen’s shoulder muscles screamed in anger as he forced them to push harder with the oar. He fought to see downstream over the wild waves that dwarfed him, though he would have barely been able to see through the water spots on his sunglasses had his view been unobstructed.
He realigned his raft moments before he could tell where he was headed, which resulted in a strainer sneaking up on him.
The current pinned him to the rock, pressing against his raft with a force greater than gravity. It was like a fire hose aimed at him, knocking him back, preventing movement, blasting him with a never-ending tsunami.
Memories of his last trip down a class six washed over him. He’d been stupid to attempt it as a fifteen-year-old. He was even stupider now.
How could he get out? Move forward? Emily would never forgive him if he killed himself in an attempt to stop her from leaving.
“Lord, save me,” he gurgled.
Where had he heard those words before? Who else had called for the Lord to save him? Whoever it was must have been at the brink of
death, trapped in a storm of his own making. Did that person get an answer from the Lord? Because Tracen still felt helpless and on his own.
At least the raft hadn’t capsized yet. And he had his oar. Squeezing the handle tighter with his left hand, he let go with his right, praying the water didn’t snatch the paddle from his grip. With his right hand, he resisted the river’s control long enough to reach down and grip the rope that encircled the raft through connected tabs. If he could hang on, he might be able to push his way to the side of the rock.
Rock. It was Peter, named after a rock, who had cried out to the Lord to save him. Peter had stepped out of the boat to walk on water.
Only last weekend, Tracen read the passage with Emily. He knew Jesus saved Peter. And Tracen had been like Peter in his relationship with Emily. He’d made the choice to step off the boat — to date her — but when the waves came, he got scared and sank.
No more. With renewed strength, Tracen shoved his raft parallel to the boulder. It would take another shove. And another. A slow, painful process. But he had hope. Yes, his hope had returned.
He might not feel God’s presence, but he had the words of Jesus to reassure himself. “You of little faith… why did you doubt?”
The raft bounced, rocked against the edge like a teeter-totter, then shot forward, bringing a rush of wind and a sense of soaring. Tracen held his oar overhead, lifting his hands to his Savior in worship.
The next drop jarred his teeth, and forced him to refocus on his surroundings. But he’d left his fear at the rock. He could do this.
****
EMILY SHADED HER EYES from the sun as the plane tilted upward in takeoff. Wobbling side to side like a toddler learning to walk, the craft made its way into the air.
Emily dropped her hand and gripped the seat, closing her eyes against the momentary brilliance. Sunglasses would have helped. At least she didn’t need them as much as Tracen did.
Finding Love in Sun Valley, Idaho (Resort to Love Book 1) Page 23
