by Nana Malone
When the second chime of the doorbell went unanswered, Ryan cursed under his breath and stepped off the porch to return to his vehicle. He’d wait. Not only did he want to explain his absence from class, but he needed to know if she knew of her mother’s link to the Still Water legend. If she didn’t, something inside him insisted it was imperative she be made aware now.
His step faltered as the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. He spun around to see if Ali had appeared, but saw no figure silhouetted in the window by the closed door, or in the others on that side of the house.
The feeling of being watched persisted, and he lifted a hand to rub at the disturbing sensation while glancing over his shoulder. The only place that made sense was the main house. Backing toward her parents’ place, he did one more visual sweep of the guesthouse in the gathering dusk. Just past the corner of the brick structure, he caught a glimpse of the pond.
Without conscious thought, he reversed direction. Her fear of the water made it highly unlikely she was there, but it didn’t stop him from moving forward with an unexplainable urgency.
The uneven circle of water came into sight. Cat-o-nine tails bent to the will of the wind, and the pond’s surface rippled with each gust. Ice ringed the edge, but it was being eaten away by the constant movements of the disturbed water.
His heart rate picked up speed when thoughts of last night’s discoveries whirled through his mind. Snippets of countless dreams he’d recorded over the years coalesced into a common theme he’d never before recognized until this moment.
Water and death forever intertwined.
Like James and Alianna.
And Elizabeth.
He halted. He’d quit creative writing in a sleep-deprived, paranoid panic, and then spent the rest of the day second-guessing his decision. Common sense told him the Still Water ghost was nothing more than a well-preserved legend. Any similarities to happenings and tragedies over the past century and more were purely coincidence.
And yet…how did one overlook the repetition in the newspaper clippings of the drownings in the Rocky Mountain National Park? Including the original legend, the death count totaled eight. James and Alianna—the ill-fated hero and heroine of the story, and two of the men who’d persecuted Alianna. In the nineteen twenties a couple teenaged kids, William and Anna, had drowned Romeo and Juliet-style, and most recently, two more deaths, three years apart. Only this time, they were connected by both location, and by way of a common friend in one Professor Elizabeth Fielding.
Friend…or foe?
Another gust of wind sent a blast of cold air under the hem of his jacket and snuck under his shirt. The freeze seemed to clear his mind, and he saw the full scope of his thoughts. He glared toward the water, hugging his coat tighter while he acknowledged the sheer insanity of thinking the professor was an evil witch reincarnated.
Annoyance and determination carried him forward, onto the small, rectangle shaped dock. Right now, he’d prove to himself the whole damn fucking thing was nothing more than his overactive, paranoid imagination.
Staring down at the dark water, he took a deep breath, and spoke.
“Alianna.”
Something moved beneath the surface.
His heart thumped hard in his chest. Through the wind ripples, it was hard to tell if it was a fish, or weeds—or something else. He glanced around self-consciously, squatted down and squinted into the murky depths.
Weeds.
He breathed again and repeated, “Alianna.”
The wind continued to blow.
“Alianna.”
Reeds rustled on either side of him. Ice cracked between the swaying stalks, but as the seconds passed, that was the extent of anything out of the ordinary. His shoulders relaxed as he smiled in self-conscious relief. See? Nothing but a myth. Thank God he’d come to his senses before talking to Ali. Too bad he hadn’t done this before dropping his class.
All of a sudden the air stilled, as if the world had drawn a breath and held it. As the water calmed, a face rose up from the gloom below. Ryan fell back with a startled curse. In the next moment, horrified recognition registered.
“Ali.”
The force of his forward lunge threw off his balance. The smooth, weathered wood offered no purchase as momentum carried him over the edge. He thought he heard his name on the wind a split second before plunging into the pond. The ice-cold shock took his breath away. An instinctive gasp filled his mouth with water, and panic set in as he thrashed to reverse his downward descent.
His hands broke the surface a second before his head. He barely managed one lungful of oxygen before a yank on his leg sucked him back under. The shadowy outline of a figure hovered above, distorted by the water. Time froze as he recognized he’d lived this horror in another life. More than once. He’d die now, just like each time before.
Just like Alianna. The last thought squeezed his heart so hard he thought it would burst. Pain numbed his mind and paralyzed his struggles. Hopelessness dragged him down, into the darkness.
A hand plunged into the water from above and slim fingers wrapped around his wrist. Reawakened, he locked his grip on his savior and kicked hard. Again he surfaced. His rescuer’s weight dragged him close enough to the dock and he grappled for the edge. Desperate gulps of air were interspersed with choking coughs.
“It’s okay. I got you.”
The sound of Ali’s voice soothed the tattered edges of his terror. She was alive. Not submerged and lifeless somewhere beneath him.
With her help, he managed to pull himself onto the dock. Slimy green tendrils clung to his legs and he ripped them off, flinging them away as Ali urged him away from the water. After the frantic retreat, his strength vanished, and he collapsed onto the grass with her. Under the weight of his sodden clothes, uncontrollable tremors shook his body, and his teeth chattered.
“Get up.” She pushed at his shoulder for him to get off her, then gave a second harder shove. “Ryan. Come on, get up. You need to get inside and take off these wet clothes right away.”
She helped him to his feet, and then kept an arm around his waist on their way to the house. His boots squished with every step they took. At the patio doors, she slipped ahead of him and hurried inside, calling out instructions on the way.
“Take everything off. I’ll be right back with some towels and a blanket.”
One flick of a switch on her way past lit the dark interior of the fireplace with bluish-gold flames. He remained outside, staring at the polished hardwood floor while she disappeared around the corner into the hall. He’d never been so cold in his life, and the chill was not solely water induced.
As he struggled to focus and make sense of what he’d seen, he fumbled with his clothes. It took three attempts before his numb fingers were able to unzip his jacket. Shrugging out of the wet, heavy material proved near impossible and his stiffened, trembling muscles didn’t help.
He was trapped by the time Ali returned. She dropped her armload of blankets near the fireplace and rushed toward him with a frown. “What are you doing? I said to get inside.”
“I d-didn’t want to g-get your floor all w-wet,” he stuttered.
Though his clothes were still dripping, she didn’t hesitate to pull him into the house before slamming the door closed. “I can wipe up the water, you idiot. Now get that stuff off.”
“I’m t-trying.” He gave her a brief, weary grin. “I’m-m s-stuck.”
She moved behind him and tugged on his jacket. When that didn’t work, she knelt beside him and grabbed the hem of one arm. After a few jerks, his arm slid free. She reached around to pull the material from the other and then dropped the jacket on the floor with a loud thud. While he worked on removing his long-sleeved shirt, she lifted up the leg of his jeans and unlaced his boot.
“Why were you out by the water?” she asked.
“L-later.” It wasn’t a story he wanted to tell with his teeth still clicking together. Even clenching his jaw didn’
t hold back the chatter for more than a few seconds.
“I was at my parents’ house,” she said, filling the silence. “It’s a good thing I saw you drive past.”
He’d wondered about her timely appearance. Tried not to think what would’ve happened if she hadn’t shown up. Ali finished unlacing his second boot while he dropped his shirt on his jacket. His T-shirt followed. The warm air on his bare skin made him all the more anxious to remove the rest of his wet clothes.
“Hold on while I pull these off,” Ali ordered.
Ryan braced one hand against the doorframe while she tugged at his boots and then removed his socks. Which left just his jeans. The frozen numbness in his hands had begun to wear off, but the pins and needles that took its place further hampered his ability to manage the button and zipper.
Ali had set aside his boots and now stood in front of him. When he glanced up, he saw her gaze dip from his chest to where he fumbled with the fastening of his jeans. Color brightened her cheeks, and despite the cold, he felt a rise in the sensual awareness that hummed whenever she was near. Knowing who she was—who they were—sent an energizing heat through his body.
“A little help?” he encouraged.
Her swallow was audible, and the crimson in her face deepened. “Um, yeah, sure.”
Yet, she still hesitated in front of him, her hands clasped together, the corner of her lip caught between her teeth. Finally, she took that last step and reached out. The warmth of her hands brushing against his skin made him suck in a silent breath. His stomach muscles tightened while she worked at the button and then slid the zipper down.
With the task finished, she released her hold and took a step back. A glance up through her lashes sent his control over the edge. He grasped her arms and drew her back to him.
Her eyes widened and palms flattened on his chest a second before his mouth covered hers. The potent energy from the night before electrified the air and made his lips tingle.
The moment he angled his head to deepen the kiss, she suddenly stiffened and shoved free of his embrace.
* * * * *
Chapter 10
All the hurt from earlier rushed forward to squeeze Ali’s chest. She backed up while wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “Don’t.”
“Ali—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to even touch me after you’ve been with her, much less kiss me.”
Ryan frowned in confusion. “Been with who?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”
“I don’t.”
Again, she shook her head at his denial while sidestepping to gather his things off the floor. Water soaked into her clothes, creating an instant chill. “I don’t want to talk about it. Take your jeans off so I can dry your things and you can leave.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
Ignoring him, she hurried to make her exit, but he caught up by the fireplace and grasped her arm to spin her around.
“Who do you think I’ve been with?”
His fingers were still cold, but apparently any issues with strength had vanished because she wasn’t able to shake free of his grip. The determined glint in his eyes didn’t frighten her despite their history of dreams and dark clouds and possible violence. Instead, she realized he wasn’t giving up without an answer, and she was going to have to face her feelings with him as a spectator.
“Liz.”
Surprise registered on his face. When Ali felt his hold slacken, she pulled free. Clutching his wet clothes in front of her, she summoned her courage and met his gaze head on. He’d already admitted to moving to Boulder for Liz’s class. Or maybe it was just Liz.
“I haven’t been anywhere near her,” he insisted, brows drawn together once more.
“Last night, you never replied to my emails. And this morning after class, she told me all about you dropping the class because of a conflict of interest.”
“Yeah, so? Why would that make you think…” His gaze narrowed. “Wait…did she actually tell you we slept together?”
Ali shifted uneasily. “Not specifically, but it was pretty obvious.”
“In her dreams, maybe,” he scoffed.
She searched his eyes, searching for any indication he was covering his ass. He didn’t waver his gaze from hers once. Her stomach sank at the thought that she’d believed Liz’s inferences so easily.
“After I left here last night, I got caught up in some online research until late—I never even checked my emails,” Ryan insisted. “I wasn’t in class this morning because, after what I learned, I wasn’t comfortable being around her, even in a public setting.”
That made much more sense than her conclusions. When his words sank in, apprehension tingled along her neck. “What were you researching?”
“The Ghost of Still Waters.”
The low tone of his voice, added to her now wet clothes, chilled her to the bone. Even with the heat of the fire to her right, she was unable to suppress the shiver that shimmied her shoulders.
“And what’d you find out?” she forced herself to ask.
“A lot more than I want to talk about while we’re both standing here still soaking wet.” He reached to take his things from her. “Tell me where your dryer is, and then you go get changed. We’ll talk when we’re both warm again.”
“The laundry is through the kitchen and to the left. I’ll be right back.”
Ali paused one brief moment to take in the sight of his broad shoulders, trim hips, and low-riding jeans. Then she hurried to her room to change into a pair of fleece lounge pants and top. On her return to the kitchen with her damp clothes, she thought about his explanation. She’d trusted him to not hurt her physically, so she should be able to trust his words, too, right? She may have known Liz far longer, but gut instinct told her Ryan was the one to believe in this scenario.
Rounding the corner to the laundry room, Ali drew up short at the sight of his naked body as he stepped out of his boxer briefs. “Oh!”
She spun around, completely mortified, and yet at the same time, wishing she had the guts to turn back and look.
“I know you said right back, but I figured I had more than sixty seconds,” he said behind her.
The dryer door opened and closed.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. And you can turn around now.”
After a few seconds of hesitation, she slowly faced him. What could he possibly have put on with his underwear in the machine? Relief and disappointment warred when she saw one of the bath towels she’d brought out before secured around his waist. Then embarrassment flooded back when she realized her attention had focused south while he watched. She jerked her gaze up only as far as his chest and thrust her wet clothes at him.
“Here, put these in with yours. I’m going to make some coffee. And some vegetable soup my mom sent home with me. You didn’t eat yet, did you?”
His chuckle followed her into the kitchen, and she heard the dryer door again before the machine kicked on. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t think I could eat just yet.”
“Coffee then.”
She didn’t wait for an answer before reaching into the cupboard for the grounds. While she worked in the kitchen, he retreated to the living room, leaving her to deal with that strange combination of relief and disappointment. A brief backwards step from the sink allowed her to see into the other room and confirm he’d settled by the fireplace in one of two chairs he’d pulled up. The blanket he’d draped over his shoulders caught the radiating heat, its ends trailing on the floor as he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees.
She paused, taking in the stern line of his profile set against the flickering flames beyond. He looked lost in thought, and she wondered what he’d found out about the ghost. Another shiver shook her shoulders, even though she was already toasty warm and didn’t believe in ghosts.
When she joined him by the fire and hande
d over a mug with a couple teaspoons of sugar, he straightened and accepted it with a smile that was more automatic than appreciative. His first sip resulted in raised eyebrows and brought his attention direct to her as he cleared his throat.
“Brandy,” she supplied. “Figured we could both use it.”
He gave a silent toast of acknowledgement before taking a healthy drink.
She took a seat while sipping her own coffee. She’d been generous with the alcohol even though normally she wasn’t much of a drinker. “You know, this is becoming a habit.”
Ryan looked down at his towel, then raised his gaze to hers with a slight smirk twitching his lips.
“I mean the saving and the talking stuff.”
“Ah, I get it. Thank you.” His gaze flicked toward the French doors. “For earlier, I mean.”
“Just returning the favor.”
She sounded casual, and yet it amazed her that she’d charged forward without hesitation when she’d seen him fall in. Now that time had passed, it was finally sinking in with chilling clarity just how close she’d gotten to the edge of the pier. She’d actually leaned down and plunged her hand into the freezing water. In her mind’s eye, she saw him completely submerged, drifting down into the murky depths. If she hadn’t reacted so quickly, he might not be sitting across from her right now.
She suppressed a shudder with ruthless determination and motioned with her mug in the direction his gaze had taken, unable to bring herself to look at the pond. “You want to tell me what were you doing out there?”
Once more, he leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees, the mug clasped tight in his large hands. He stared down into the dark liquid. “I should probably start at the beginning.”
“Seems like a good place.”
He raised his gaze without lifting his head. “Do you believe me that I haven’t been with Fielding?”
“Yes,” she answered, and meant it. Her lack of hesitation sparked appreciation in his eyes.
“And will you promise to listen to everything I have to say before you decide I’m certifiable?”
