In The Arms of a Stranger

by Kristen Robinette

Luke had taken on more responsibility with the baby, even changing another diaper at one point. They seemed to have silently agreed that caring for the little guy was neutral ground, one that occupied their hands and minds. Dana noticed that the baby had begun to recognize Luke and seemed delighted when he held him. Watching the two of them together touched her in places her heart normally guarded, and she carefully busied herself with chores rather than watch.

  Other than sharing in the baby’s care, Luke steered clear of Dana. He’d spent the last hours of daylight searching for kindling and hauling firewood into the cabin, stacking the logs against the den wall. For some reason the sight of the firewood made Dana uneasy. It was a confirmation that they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  And now night had fallen, dashing any hope for a rescue.

  Dana was determined to stand watch this evening. She’d obviously erred in Luke’s eyes for not doing so last night. Standing guard also eliminated the need to make sleeping arrangements, a problem they hadn’t yet faced.

  The first night Luke had guarded them as she slept. And the second night she’d slept in Luke’s arms. A chill ran the length of her body as she remembered the feel of his long, muscled body pressed against hers.

  Dana fought an illogical rush of desire. She was grateful to Luke, and grateful that he’d survived the fall. Anything beyond that was emotional suicide. With any luck they’d be out of here in another day or two, going their separate ways. And in all likelihood, they’d never see each other again.

  “We’re bound to lose power anytime now.”

  Luke’s deep voice was mere inches behind her, and she startled, whirling to face him. He frowned, his gaze intense as he examined her features then nodded toward the woods. He brushed particles of ice and snow from his jacket.

  “The branches are snapping like glass. It’s only a matter of time before one takes down the feeder line.”

  Dana hugged her arms a little tighter. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yes. Search the cabinets for anything that will hold water and fill it up.” He met her puzzled gaze. “The ranger’s station is served by a well. No power means no water pump. We’ll need water for ourselves and the baby, and I’d rather not haul in snow and have to sterilize it.”

  Dana nodded, feeling a fresh tremor of fear. She’d thought things couldn’t get worse, that they were surely nearing the end of this ordeal, but she’d been wrong.

  “Is the baby sleeping?” Luke asked.

  “Yes.” A smile touched her lips. “That evening bottle is like a sedative. He didn’t take it all, but if his pattern holds, he should sleep through the night.”

  Luke scowled and Dana wondered if she’d said something wrong.

  “We need to fill the sink with water. I’m afraid we’ll have to have to disrupt what you’ve done,” Luke commented as he removed the prepared bottles out of the sink and drained the icy water. “But you get points for ingenuity.” He hesitated as if weighing his next words. “You must have done your share of baby-sitting when you were growing up.”

  Dana considered the comment. It was innocent enough, but something in his tone put her on guard. In fact, it wasn’t a comment but a question—and a pointed one at that. She, of all people, could recognize an interview. “No, baby-sitting wasn’t something I did.”

  Take that, she thought, and turn it into another question.

  “Oh? I thought all girls did that, a kind of prep course.” Luke replaced the stopper in the drain and began filling the sink with water without looking up.

  Dana didn’t comment right away but began searching the cabinets, pulling out pots and buckets. She held each under the running water, filling it to the brim and placing them on the kitchen counter. Yes, she had been offered baby-sitting jobs as a teenager and had ached to accept. She’d viewed it as an opportunity to see how other families—real families—lived, a peek into a world that had been snatched away. But her aunt had only laughed at the absurdity of the idea and given Dana extra spending money.

  “I guess I missed my prep course, then.”

  “It sure doesn’t seem like it. In fact, you seem better equipped to deal with the baby’s needs than most new mothers.”

  Dana’s hands froze midtask. The words pierced her emotional armor like a knife. She wasn’t and never would be a mother. She’d first thought it a cruel twist of fate, but the more she thought of Michael’s death, the more justified it seemed.

  A loud crash followed the strained silence, and Dana stilled. Though she recognized the sound as falling trees, it seemed to go on forever, no doubt a chain reaction. This time the noise came frighteningly near the cabin. Luke had allowed them the luxury of switching on a single lightbulb in the kitchen’s overhead fixture, and it suddenly dimmed, then went out.

  Just as quickly Luke switched on the flashlight. Though Dana noticed the bulb was waning to an amber yellow, she was grateful for the light, grateful that the batteries were still functioning at all. Despite her anger, she took a step closer to Luke.

  He pressed his hand against her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, emotion clogging her throat.

  “Help me get a fire started,” he commanded, urging her toward the old stone fireplace.

  Dana followed. She found that she didn’t want to leave his side and just as desperately wanted the fire lit. Her mind spun. There were a million things to do and the responsibility of them all made her chest ache with panic.

  Dana mentally covered all that needed to be done: though the baby was thoroughly bundled, the space heater was no longer working so she would need to bring him nearer to the fireplace. But not so close that a spark might harm him. Luke had removed the bottles from the sink, so they would need to keep them chilled, away from the heat of the fire until she needed one…

  Panic clutched at her. She failed Michael but she wouldn’t fail this child.

  “Dana!” She looked up to find Luke frowning at her, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. “Take this firewood and stack it on the grate.”

  Dana blinked, realizing that he’d called her name more than once. She wondered at the armload of firewood Luke held and realized he must have retrieved it from the stack in the den while she’d been lost in panic. She pulled the logs one by one from his arms and began stacking them atop the old iron grate.

  “Open the fireplace flue,” he commanded. “It’s overhead. You’ll need to feel with your hand until you reach a handle. Push it up.”

  She did as he commanded and was met with a handful of soot and ash that fell into the fireplace and scattered around them. Dana coughed, meeting Luke’s eyes with an accusing glare.

  He grinned. “Don’t look at me like that. You need to know how to do this.”

  “No, I don’t,” she countered, taking in his meaning. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I may have to, Dana.” His voice was deep and smooth and Dana shivered, not knowing whether it was the tone of Luke’s voice or his words that stirred her. “If worse comes to worst, you need to be prepared.” He nudged her arm. “Here. Take the kindling and force it beneath the grate.”

  She did as Luke instructed, and Luke disappeared into the shadows of the room, returning with a few yellowed magazines that the rangers had, undoubtedly, left behind. He tore the pages into strips and then reached around her, stuffing the dry paper around the kindling.

  When the fireplace was loaded to capacity, he lit the paper with his lighter. The flames spread rapidly from the paper to the kindling and were soon licking at the underside of the firewood, filling the room with light and heat, surrounding them with a welcome glow.

  Dana felt the knot of tension in her chest loosen. She breathed deep and slow, the way Luke had instructed, inhaling the comforting scent of the wood and fire.

  “That was a compliment back there, you know.” Luke’s words came from beside her.

  She opened her eyes to find Luke sitting near her, his left knee bent and hi
s right leg stretched behind her. His handsome face was lit by the firelight and she could see the soft crinkles of laugh lines at the edge of his eyes. She suddenly longed to see Luke Sutherlin laugh, to see something other than the burden of responsibility in his face.

  Dana tried but couldn’t find words to answer him. The dam of emotion that held her tears was crumbling and she knew it.

  Don’t… she mentally begged. Please don’t say anything else, Luke.

  “When I said you were more prepared than most new mothers,” he continued, “that was meant as a compliment.”

  Dana closed her eyes. Not only did the words threaten her balance, she doubted they were true. There had been some strange tone of suspicion in his voice when he said it. He was fishing again, she realized, a tactic she’d used countless times in interviews. But for what? What confession did he want her to make?

  Then it hit her.

  She opened her eyes and met Luke’s gaze. Anger sizzled within her and she felt the burn of it in the form of tears. “You think I had something to do with—” She drew in a ragged breath, disbelieving the acceptance she saw in Luke’s eyes. “That I took the baby?”

  “It’s not like that Dana—”

  “No,” she interrupted, standing. “That’s exactly what you were thinking. You think I kidnapped him, that I had something to do with the accident—”

  Luke stood, towering over her, and she began walking backward. She felt the trail of tears cooling on her cheeks, belying the consuming anger she felt within.

  Luke grasped her arm, held it when she tried to pull away. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m asking you questions. It’s my job, Dana.”

  “I see.” An odd strength filled her and she straightened, staring up at Luke. “Then by all means let me help you out. I didn’t baby-sit because my aunt is a snob without a maternal bone in her body who thought it was beneath me.”

  “Dana—”

  She held up her hand. “No, let me finish. As for my competence with infants, you can credit chapters…let’s see—” she tapped her temple “—one through five of my favorite baby-care book. Of course, if you don’t like that one, I have a lot more books on infant care in my apartment to chose from.”

  A dark look crossed his face. “Why?”

  Dana stood at the threshold of the truth, hating that the moment had come. For the past two days she hadn’t been a barren fertility patient. She’d been a mother. For the last two days, she hadn’t been the woman who caused an innocent child’s death. She’d been a child’s rescuer.

  A steady stream of tears flowed down her cheeks. “Because I once thought I’d have a child of my own.” She wiped the tears away, hating her weakness. “But that was before Prince Charming left me for someone less barren and I learned to stop believing in fairy tales.”

  Luke pulled her forward, grasping both shoulders in his large hands. “I’m sorry. I never thought you capable—”

  “Of what?” she interrupted. “Of killing someone?” She laughed, the sound hollow and dead. “I did that, too.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  Dana was silent. She couldn’t tell him about Michael. Not Luke. Surely he, of all people, didn’t have to know.

  Luke shook her shoulders. “Tell me what you mean.”

  What difference did it really make? Luke was nothing more to her than a fantasy created by her imagination. But one thing was certain: as soon as he learned who she really was, she would be nothing to him. Her knees began to shake, and Luke supported her weight, easing her against him as she sank to the floor.

  “He was nothing but sweetness and innocence…” Dana cradled her head in her hands. “And it was my fault he died.”

  “Who?”

  “Michael,” she whispered. “Michael Gonzalez.”

  Luke stroked the back of her head. “Paul Gonzalez’s son?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me,” Luke urged.

  Tell me. Tell me what your father did to you, Michael…

  Dana cupped her hand over her mouth to contain a scream. “I knew it was wrong, knew he was too young to be asked a question like that during an interview.” Dana shook her head. “But I asked him, anyway.” Her eyes met Luke’s, imploring him to understand. “I asked Michael to tell me what his father had done to him.”

  “And he did?”

  “Yes. I was elated at first. He confessed that his father had hit him. Repeatedly. I thought the recorded testimony was all the proof we’d need that Paul Gonzalez had hurt his son. But the whole thing backfired.”

  Luke smoothed her hair, tracing the outline of her face until his fingers rested beneath her chin. He gently tilted her to face him. “How?”

  “I’d been working with the deputy director of foster care—of the Department of Child and Family Services. We’d been trying to locate Paul Gonzalez.” Dana drew her legs against her body, hugging them with her arms. “We had hoped he’d sign away guardianship rather than face prosecution.”

  “That sounds logical.”

  She shook her head. “To any sane person, yes. But not Gonzalez. What I didn’t know was that DCFS had located him in the meantime and had arranged for the final paperwork. He had agreed to sign Michael over to the state.” A sob caught in her throat. “I was that close to getting Michael away from him, and I blew it.”

  “You wanted to adopt him?”

  “Yes.” Dana lowered her head to her knees. “God, yes. But my husband refused. Robert wanted a child that was biologically his. And he was afraid. Michael’s mother died of hepatitis C. If I only had it to do over again…” Sobs shook her body. “I was a fool to give in to him.”

  “No, Dana, he was the fool.”

  She looked up, a look of gratitude on her face. “I did what I thought was the next best thing—I became certified as a foster parent.” She smiled. “Robert never even knew what I was doing.”

  “But you didn’t get the chance?”

  “No. I didn’t.” Tears threatened. “I was so close to getting foster custody of Michael.”

  “I don’t understand why Gonzalez would want to back out of the deal.”

  Dana met Luke’s gaze. “Because of me. The tape of Michael’s testimony was heart-wrenching. No, wait… Riveting was the word my station manager used.” She shook her head, disgusted by the memory of what happened next. “The ratings soared. They replayed the interview again and again. It was only a matter of time before Gonzalez saw it.”

  “And when he did?”

  “He was furious, claimed he’d been publicly humiliated. He did an about-face, saying that Michael was his ‘property’ and that he’d never give him up. I think he thought that if Michael was returned to him, his name—his pride—could be restored.”

  “But the interview—”

  “They said I coached him.” She balled her hands into fists. “Gonzalez’s lawyers painted me as an ambitious journalist who took advantage of a lonely child and sensationalized the story for my own gain. Maybe they were right about that part.”

  “Dana—”

  “The bottom line was that the judge bought it—at least to some degree. He was under a lot of pressure. The public was outraged by Michael’s testimony but the legal world was watching. I think he tried to split the difference between the two powers, make everyone happy. In the end he placed Michael with his father on a trial basis.”

  Luke cradled her against his side, his warm, large hands rubbing her shoulders. Dana leaned against him, craving his strength. To her surprise every muscle in his body was taut, and she felt him trembling. The realization made her breath catch. He was angry.

  “Less than a month later Michael was dead.” She felt drained of grief as she spoke the words, devoid of anything but a slow-burning inner rage. “Gonzalez claimed the fall from his two-story apartment window was an accident. It wasn’t. I know that in my heart. Michael’s father never wanted him. He just wanted to prove that he owned him.”
<
br />   “So you were scheduled to testify that you didn’t coach Michael?”

  “Yes, but the court date was postponed more than once. But I will testify. I’ll testify against that monster if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “He made threats against you?”

  “Yes.” Dana tensed at the memory. “It started with phone calls in the middle of the night. I would answer but the caller wouldn’t speak. It went on and on, night after night.”

  “The police didn’t do anything?”

  She shrugged. “You’re in law enforcement. You know how it is. There’s a protocol to these things, steps they wanted to take to document what was happening.”

  “There’s also a limit to protocol.” Luke’s voice vibrated with anger.

  “The police urged me to get a call identifier but by the time I had it installed, the calls stopped. But then he took the harassment up a notch, started showing up wherever I was—restaurants, city streets. You name it. I would glimpse his face—not long enough for anyone I was with to see him, of course.”

  “He was too smart for that,” Luke added.

  Luke’s understanding brought her closer to tears. In all the time she’d dealt with Gonzalez, it seemed no one had understood what he was capable of. She was made to feel as though her imagination was getting the better of her or that she was downright paranoid. “Right after that he ransacked my apartment.” She wiped a tear from her face. “That’s when I headed here.”

  Luke smiled. “And what a nice, relaxing vacation you’re having.”

  Dana almost laughed aloud with relief. She’d expected… What had she expected? At the very least she’d thought Luke would have the same controlled look of condemnation that everyone else wore when she spoke of Michael. Of course, none of her friends or co-workers had been callous enough to accuse her of causing Michael’s death. In fact, they’d gone to great lengths to reassure her that she’d only done her job, but the truth was always just beneath the surface. She could see it in their eyes.

  But not Luke’s.

  A piercing wail echoed through the cabin, and Dana and Luke both startled before they recognized the baby’s cries. Dana automatically started to go to him but hesitated. She’d just confessed her role in a child’s death. Things had changed. The trust she’d taken for granted was in question.