by Lee, Lia
I’m reluctant to let go of Mason, but I trust Levi. “The bags,” I whisper.
He lifts me by the waist to boost me out the window opening. I’m slim and able to fit through without a problem, but I have my doubts about him. I launch my torso across the sill and scramble out, dropping clumsily to the ground. I stand and reach for Mason as Levi passes the sleeping bundle across to me, then tosses the bags through. Thankfully he hasn’t woken. The leaves crunch beneath my feet as I move aside to make way for Levi. I’m pretty sure which direction the RV park is in, but I have no idea where he parked, and only vaguely know what the truck looked like. I’d only seen it once, shortly after he bought it for his trip.
Miraculously, Levi forces his broad body through the opening and slips to the ground. He snatches up the bags with one arm and scoops us up with the other as we race along the back of the building toward the RV park.
“Are you sure we need to do this?” I gasp. “You don’t know that’s him.”
“Not taking that chance,” he says, guiding me toward a dark, mud-splattered Chevy half-ton crew cab parked between an older SUV and a boat trailer. “I wasn’t planning on letting you stay the night here anyway.”
He opens the rear door of the vehicle and motions us in.
“There’s no safety seat,” I start to say, realizing the idiocy of my statement mid-sentence. “Never mind.” We were escaping, not going on a holiday.
As I climb in, Mason begins to wake, but his cries are cut off by the solid clunk of the door closing behind us. Levi slips into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. “Where were you thinking we’d stay?” I ask, staying down out of view and tending to Mason.
“I’m not letting either of you out of my sight ever again,” he grumbles, throwing the vehicle into gear. “We’re going where we won’t be found so easily. Where I can protect you and our baby.”
I didn’t really have to ask the question. I knew our destination without hearing him say it. We were about to disappear the same way he did all those months ago; become as invisible as him. I never thought I’d be a fugitive, but it’s better than being a captive. As we pull onto the 101 heading north, I watch the last vestiges of civilization, and my life as I knew it, fade away in the tail lights of a Chevy truck.
Chapter Nine
Levi
“Tell me everything that happened,” I say, pushing the accelerator as hard as I dare while keeping a sharp eye out for the highway patrol. “Are you sure you never saw that guy before today?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tell me what he said to you, exactly.”
Dallas exhales in a tired sigh. It’s been a long, tough day for her, and I just want her to feel rested and safe. So far, I haven’t been helping much, but that will change as soon as I get her and Mason safely to my cabin. The baby mewls a little as Dallas changes position to sit upright. “At the farmer’s market, before you got there, he said something like ‘Oh, isn’t he cute.’ Just small talk. I don’t remember his exact words, until he called me ‘pretty mama.’ It gave me the creeps; I thought he was hitting on me. I brushed him off, and that’s when he asked if I was a local, that he didn’t mean anything by calling me pretty mama, and could I tell him where to buy tools. Axes, ropes. And bullets.”
“Right. Then what?”
“I told him to try the Outfitters, like I said. Then he left.”
“But he didn’t leave. He hung around, watching you from a distance,” I say.
“Yeah. But maybe he was watching us. Or you…” Dallas suggests.
The thought sparks a burn in my belly, because I’m thinking along the same lines. But there was nothing to connect me with Dallas before I turned up to meet her. “What happened after you left me at the park?” I prompt.
“I was running late for our appointment, so I crossed back through the market. He must have seen me then and followed us from there.”
“And you said he was waiting for you outside the doctor’s?”
“I was getting ready to put Mason in the car seat, when he came up from behind. He said, ‘going somewhere, pretty mama?’ Then, ‘you and junior are gonna take a little ride with me,’ and something like, ‘he’s precious cargo.’”
“He was after the baby,” I say, thinking out loud.
“Why? For ransom? My family isn’t rich; they’re not celebrities or wealthy business owners like yours was.” She sighs again and clucks her tongue. “Maybe he’s just a pervert with a thing for single mothers.”
An alarm bell goes off in my head. Not rich like yours. Fuck. Is it possible this asshole is linked to the bank robbers? Or is one of them? If they got away, there’s only one reason why they’d still be anywhere near this area. To avenge their dead buddy. Maybe one of them remembered Dallas’s face, just happened to recognize her at the farmer’s market. Pure coincidence. Then saw her and me and Mason together like a happy little family.
It seems impossible they could make that connection, and more unlikely still they would know my background. No one witnessed me popping the guy, and in any case, I look completely different now. But the fact remains they still tried to abduct her. She and Mason are clearly at risk, and the farther away I can get all of us, the better.
“Could be just a crazy stalker,” I reply. “But I don’t think so. There has to be more to it than that. If he tried twice, he might try again. And he might not be alone the next time.”
Long moments of silence make me wonder if they’ve both fallen asleep. They’ve earned it for sure. “How much farther are we going?” Dallas asks suddenly.
“Almost there,” I say, having already turned onto the narrow cut-line dirt road that leads into the hills west of Lake Pleasant. I realize we haven’t eaten in a while. “Are you hungry? I don’t have much up at the cabin, but I’m sure I can fix you something.”
“I could eat just about anything right now. Mason’s okay. He’s asleep. I have food for him, but I…guess I wasn’t thinking about my own stomach in the last few hours.”
“That’s understandable,” I chuckle. Food was the last thing on my mind too, back at the motel. “We did get a little sidetracked.”
“Oh, is that what you call it? Sidetracked?”
“I believe you started it.”
“Hmm…I didn’t hear you protesting.”
I can hear the grin in her voice, a glimmer of the old Dallas, of the way we used to be. Can we ever get back to that with all that’s happened? With all the time that’s passed? I slow my speed as we reach the hidden lane that winds up to the cabin. My truck practically knows its own way home by now. My little abode appears pale and abandoned in the bright beam of my headlights. “Here we are,” I say, pulling into my usual place behind the small structure and cutting the engine.
“Charming,” Dallas says, a definite hint of sarcasm in her voice. “This is where you’ve been living? It looks more like a shed than a cabin.”
“It really looks bigger on the inside.”
She snickers. “You sound like a realtor. ‘For sale, cozy hidden gem.’”
“It’s the hidden part that’s the charm. C’mon. Let’s get you both inside.”
I grab her bags and lead Dallas, with a sleeping Mason in her arms, around to the front porch. My lock system consists of a keyed padlock borrowed from the toolbox in my truck. We step inside, the red glow from my wood stove casting the only light. I know where every item, every stick of furniture, every rug, every spoon and fork is placed, but she does not.
“Let me get the lamp first,” I say. In the dark, I reach for the antique kerosene lamp in the center of the table and light it, revealing the interior of the cabin in its low gleam.
“Holy shit,” Dallas whispers. “It’s like something out of Little House on the Prairie.”
“Yeah, well. I call it home.” I didn’t expect the place to have a wow factor, and it’s only out of necessity, but I feel a sudden twinge of embarrassment at her words. I chalk it up to exhaustion on her part
. Funny how you get used to things. I really had grown to love my little shack in the woods, despite its humbleness. “Hardly the Waldorf, I know.”
“Sorry. No insult intended. I guess I expected…oh forget it,” she sighs. “I’m not exactly in a position to demand five-star accommodations.” Her eyes scan the confines of the room. “It’s really no worse than the Hungry Bear.”
“Except the Hungry Bear had plumbing,” I say, reaching out to stroke Mason’s head. “We’ll be safe here, that’s the main thing. There’s nothing more important to me than the two of you, I want you to know that.”
Dallas flashes a small smile. “I know.”
She looks so beautiful, standing there with our baby in her arms, her face aglow in the warm flickering light of the lamp. I wish I had more to offer her than just safety. She and Mason deserve so much more. I think back to when we had our whole future mapped out in front of us. I would take the helm of Strongbow Enterprises. Dallas would be my CFO. We’d travel the world, support humanitarian causes, build a legacy for our children.
The crazy situation we find ourselves in now clearly outlines the epic failure of that plan. But that doesn’t mean it had to be the only plan. We’ve found each other again. Surely that’s a start. “Here. Let me find a place to lay this little guy down, and I’ll get you something to eat.”
I have very little furniture in the place, and certainly nothing resembling a crib.
“Somewhere he can’t roll off,” Dallas adds.
Hmm. The best I can do is slide the old sagging armchair up against one wall, seat first, creating a more or less enclosed space. I look to her for approval.
She chuckles softly. “That’ll work.”
She lays him down on the padded but threadbare seat cushion and tucks his blankets in all around him. He reminds me of a poached egg, his little pink face encircled in a nest of white fabric.
“Maybe I can build him a crib,” I say, turning toward the kitchen. My few forays to town allow me to stock up on some things, but those trips have been infrequent. I look around for what I can offer in the way of dinner.
“You? Build something? I’ll admit you were good with your hands, but not in a carpentry capacity,” Dallas teases.
“You’d be surprised what you can learn when you have to.”
“I suppose.” I add more wood to the stove to get the room warmed up as she walks the small circle of the room’s living area, taking in the décor, or lack thereof. She stops in front of the fireplace and gently touches one of the photos on the mantel. “You and your folks,” she says quietly, then picks up the photo next to that one. One of her and me. She fingers it for a moment, then sets it down again.
I put together a plate of cheese, homemade bread, and chunks of venison sausage I’d traded a bottle of wine for with a local farmer—the kind of bartering that didn’t require cash, credit, or identification. Life is very simple out here in the woods, and looking at Dallas, being reminded of my former life, I realize how much its charm has taken root in me. Could she ever come to appreciate this kind of environment, this way of existing? Taking things day by day; feeling joy in silence and solitude? Expecting nothing but what nature and the occasional kindness of a like-minded neighbor provide?
“Hey. Sit down and have something,” I say gently as I walk up behind her. She turns to look at me, then down at the plate in my hand.
“Thanks.” She stacks a selection of items together like a tiny sandwich and takes a small bite. The fare is a bit chewy, and after a few cycles of her jaw she manages a swallow.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“It’s…it’s good,” she says but doesn’t attempt a second bite. She lifts her face to meet mine, her eyes shining behind a watery veil of tears. Her lips begin to tremble. “Oh, Levi…how did everything come to this?” she sobs. “You…me…this place…”
I set the plate down and take her in my arms. “Hey, now, it’s alright. Everything’s going to be okay. Don’t cry.” I’m not sure if it’s my meager menu, or the surroundings, or just the harrowing events of the day, likely all three, that have finally caught up to her, but her cries still carve a hole in my insides. Despite my determination to help her, even after all I’ve learned, all I’ve taught myself in becoming self-sufficient and living off the land, I feel completely helpless in the wake of her tears. “Shhh,” I soothe, holding her to my chest and stroking the back of her head, my fingers catching in her tangled locks. “You need some rest. Let me help you up to the loft. It’s not a five-star hotel bed, but it’s soft and warm.”
“I can’t leave Mason. I…I never told you what the doctor said. He warned me to make sure he gets his medicine, and not take him outdoors too much. He has an ear infection that could turn into something more serious, and I’m to watch for certain symptoms. Oh, Levi, I’m scared. What if he takes a turn for the worse? What if he needs the doctor again? We’re miles away, and it could snow any day…”
“Slow down,” I say. “None of that’s happened yet. You’re both safe here, and Mason has the two of us now to watch over him. If we need a doctor, we’ll get a doctor. My truck can make it through any snowstorm the mountains can throw at us.” I tilt her chin upwards to gaze into those troubled blue eyes that I wish with all my soul I could drain every worry from. “Trust in me, Dally. Trust in us.”
She blinks back her tears and gives a weak nod. “I do trust you, Levi. I’m just not sure I can trust myself. To be strong enough.”
Chapter Ten
Dallas
I wake to the sight of an unfamiliar patchwork quilt partially covering my face. A moment of fuzzy disorientation follows, but gradually coalesces into consciousness. It’s daylight. I smell wood smoke and hear the lazy crackle of a fire near my head. Then I remember. I’m in Levi’s cabin, on an old couch I insisted on sleeping on to stay close to Mason. Mason!
I push aside the quilt with one hand and peer out. I’m greeted with the vision of Levi, awake and dressed, sitting in the beat-up armchair a few feet away. In his arms is a bundle of blankets, our son wrapped within. He gazes adoringly into Mason’s little face, wearing a smile that only a parent can pull off.
The baby makes little cooing noises, his tiny hands grasping at Levi’s beard. The scene is both comical and heartrending. I don’t want to spoil it by letting them know I’m awake. If I had any doubts about how Levi would react to being a father, they are all dispelled now. It’s plain to see he’s as in love with Mason as I am. But is he still in love with me? He said the words, his desire painfully obvious back at the motel, but people say and do lots of things under stressful circumstances. And I can’t deny things are stressful.
I let my eyes wander the room, noting details I couldn’t possibly have seen in the shadows of last night. The place is small, definitely having lacked the benefit of TLC for an extended period, but it has the cozy feel of a family cottage that was loved and enjoyed for many generations. I didn’t know much about Mrs. Strongbow, but feel a sudden kinship with her knowing her roots were as simple and local as mine.
The fireplace behind me has a stone front and hearth. The rugged wooden mantel that’s about six inches thick props up the photos I’d looked at, as well as an old-fashioned alarm clock with oversized bells on the top. It seems no one has wound it in some time; it’s not ticking.
Above the mantel hangs an ominous, long-barrelled firearm. I know nothing about guns or rifles, and wonder if it’s a working machine or simply there for show—an antique or flea market find. It doesn’t look modern, but I remember Levi said he had his dad’s rifle with him the day he disappeared. Could this be the same one? The murder weapon?
I’m lying on a sofa that seems to have more springs than it does padding. I can feel every lump and dip in its aging cushions, and my back may never be the same after this. I wonder if Levi actually got some sleep or spent the entire night sitting in that chair cuddling his newfound son. The thought makes me smile. Pale rays of sunlight reach into the room from
tall, mullioned window panes at the front of the room. It’s true what they say. No matter how dark things get, they always do seem brighter in the morning. Perhaps this will all blow over in a few days, and we’ll be back to our normal lives before we know it.
But even so, things will never be the same. With Levi in the picture, I can’t go back to being a single mother living off my parents. He has a responsibility, after all. All indications are that he plans to live up to it, to be the father figure. But how? Is he willing to leave this wilderness hideaway he’s entrenched himself in? Or does he expect me to embrace it along with him? Too many questions and too few answers.
“You two trading fish stories?” I ask, my voice rough with sleep and lingering flu symptoms.
Levi looks up and smiles. “Just getting to know each other a bit better. I think he likes me.”
“I think he’d like you to change his diaper,” I reply with a chuckle.
A look of alarm crosses Levi’s bearded features. “Oh. I’ve never done that before.”
“No time like the present to learn,” I say, rolling back the quilt and sitting up. I mourn the loss of cozy warmth beneath the covers but welcome the relief from rusted, spine-torturing coil springs. The pleasant heat radiating from the fireplace makes the room temperature comfortable enough. A smirk crosses my face at Levi’s panicked expression, but my eyes are drawn to the bulging muscles of his biceps revealed by the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing. He was always in shape, but somehow his time here in the woods has sculpted his body into rock hard perfection. I shouldn’t be surprised. Physical work is unavoidable when you are no longer attended by valets and personal assistants. The result is certainly rousing my hormones, but I will them into submission, just as I had when refusing Levi’s invitation to share his loft bed last night. Right now, we have unpleasant, but more important business to attend to.
