by Sherry Lewis
Midway across the bridge, she stopped walking and clutched a two-by-four cross beam for support. Leaning slightly forward, she searched the gathering shadows, but the ever-increasing snowfall made it almost impossible to see.
Fighting panic, she checked the river and the brush along its banks then crossed to the opposite side of the bridge and looked downriver. Still no sign of him.
She tried desperately to calm herself, but she knew that if he’d walked even half a mile in either direction, she wouldn’t be able to see him from here. Nor would she be able to see him from the highway—the forest was too dense.
The snow began to fall faster, thicker, rendering the world around her silent except for the too-rapid beating of her heart. She moved a few steps farther along the bridge, searching frantically and trying to decide what to do next.
Between the trees, a light flickered. Rick Dennehy’s cabin. In her panic, she’d almost forgotten about her father’s new neighbors. Maybe Rick or his wife had seen Cameron walking along the riverbank. Maybe they could help her decide where to look next.
Inching back to the car, she settled behind the wheel again and drove slowly across the bridge. Her windshield wipers slapped snow away, but thick, fresh flakes covered the glass again almost immediately. A few feet beyond the bridge, she turned into the tree-lined lane that led first to the main house, then to the other eight various-size and odd-shaped cabins that formed an open circle around a broad clearing.
She pulled in front of the main house and left the car running while she raced up the steps. Holding her breath, she knocked, waited a second, and knocked again. She told herself to remain calm. Nothing good would come of letting fear take over. But Cameron had been so angry when he stormed out of the house.
Muttering under her breath, she jerked open the heavy wood and mesh screen and pounded on the thick wooden door. “Come on. Open the damn door.”
Just as she uttered the last four words, the door opened and she found herself staring up into Rick Dennehy’s surprised face. He must have sensed her panic because the surprise vanished almost instantly and concern took its place. “Is something wrong?”
“My son is missing. Have you or your wife seen him? He might have been walking along the river, or crossing the bridge, or...”
Rick stepped back and gestured toward the room behind him. “Come on in.”
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “Thank you, but I don’t have time. The snow is coming down fast, I’m afraid he’ll become disoriented in the dark.”
“He’s here. In the house. He’s been helping me stack firewood, and I just fixed him a cup of cocoa so he could warm up.”
“Cameron’s been helping you?”
Rick pulled open the door a few inches farther. “We’re talking about the kid who was with you this afternoon, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the one. Come on in. You look like you could use something warm to drink, yourself.”
Relief made her weak. She hesitated for a second and glanced over her shoulder at the beam from her headlights slicing through the snowfall. “I need to turn off the engine—”
“Let me do it.” Rick took her keys and moved past her onto the porch, hunching his shoulders as he stepped into the storm. “Just go straight through to the kitchen. Cameron’s in there.”
Marti wiped her boots on the mat and walked through the living room into the cabin’s small kitchen. Peeling off her gloves, she unbuttoned her coat and stared at Cameron who sat at the thick pine table, holding a mug of steaming cocoa in both hands. He didn’t look up, but the surliness that had become so much a part of him had all but vanished.
She resisted the urge to rush across the room and hug him. “Cameron?”
At the sound of her voice, he glanced up and his expression went through a series of rapid changes and the hostility she’d grown to expect returned. “What?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.”
He sounded so angry, her heart broke all over again, but she struggled to hide her reaction. One of the counselors had warned her that if Cameron knew how easily he could hurt her, he’d use it against her. “Mr. Dennehy said you’d been helping him stack firewood.”
“Yeah? What of it?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t expect to find you here. I’ve been worried.”
Cameron glanced away and lowered his mug to the table, but he clamped his lips together and didn’t respond.
Marti’s frustration doubled. But before she could do or say anything, Rick came through the doorway, shaking snow from his thick dark hair.
He filled the room with his presence. His shoulders stretched wide under his plaid wool shirt, and the scent of wood and fresh air—and something she couldn’t identify—rushed her senses as he moved toward her and held out her keys. “It’s snowing like the devil out there.”
She took the keys, surprised by the warmth of his skin when their fingers brushed, and confused by her awareness of him.
He didn’t seem to notice. He turned away and crossed to the stove in two strides. “Sit down and warm up. Do you want cocoa? Or should I put coffee on?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Sorry, that’s not one of your options. You look half-frozen.”
“Have something,” Cameron snarled. “You don’t have to make such a production out of everything.”
Marti could feel the blood rushing to her face. But before she could respond, Rick turned to Cameron. He didn’t say a word, just cocked one eyebrow in an expression of disapproval.
Marti expected Cameron’s temper to flare, to hear him shout that this was none of Rick’s business and stomp out of the house in a fit of anger. Instead, he merely shrugged and looked away.
Rick turned his gaze in her direction again and waited for her decision.
“Cocoa’s fine,” she muttered, and sat across the table from her son. “I’d like to thank you and your wife for seeing that Cameron is safe and warm.”
Rick looked away quickly. “I’m here alone. My wife passed away two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Her words sounded weak and inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“Thanks.” He filled a mug and placed it on the table in front of her, then leaned one hip against the counter. “Cameron and I have been discussing business. He’s offered to work for me for a few days.”
“To work?” Marti looked from one to the other and tried not to sound stunned, but even she could hear the surprise in her voice.
Rick nodded. “The cabins are in horrible shape, and I’ve only got a month to get them fixed up.” He looked as if he might say something else, then apparently thought better of it. “Cameron seems to know his way around, and I could use the help. But I don’t want to accept his offer if you don’t approve.”
If she didn’t approve? Marti wondered if she’d heard him right. She’d been trying for three years to interest Cameron in something—anything—besides his self-destructive friends. She studied Cameron’s stony expression and tried to read the emotions there, but he’d closed himself off again. “When would you work?” she asked Cameron.
He lifted both shoulders in a lifeless shrug. “Whenever.”
“I thought you wanted to spend time with your dad.”
“I do. I won’t work if I’m with Dad, but I’m not going to sit around Grandpa’s every day and stare at the walls just to make you happy.”
His words pierced her, but again she tried not to show it. “I see. You want to avoid me.”
Cameron didn’t respond. He didn’t need to—the smirk on his face said it all. His expression chilled her.
Vaguely aware of Rick moving closer, Marti pushed away the mug of cocoa with trembling hands.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Rick said.
She shook her head and tried to smile, but her lips felt stiff and cold, and she could tell she had failed miserabl
y. “No. If that’s what he wants to do, I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” He kept his eyes riveted on hers for so long, she grew slightly uncomfortable. She managed a shaky laugh. “It’s fine for Cameron to work for you. Really.”
He smiled slowly, an infectious smile that drew an answering one from her. But when she turned toward Cameron, the icy look in his eyes made everything inside her grow numb. She could hear Rick’s voice as he said something to Cameron, but she couldn’t make out the words. Her hands trembled and her mind whirled. She watched Cameron respond to Rick and saw the hatred in the boy’s eyes vanish for a moment. And she gave in to sudden, overwhelming despair.
All this time, she’d believed Cameron was angry with the world in general. But tonight, looking into his cold eyes and seeing how different he was around this stranger, she realized the truth for the first time. Her son hated her.
Somehow, she managed to pull herself together, to keep her face from betraying her shock and heartache. When Cameron finished his cocoa, she stood and waited for him to get up. She couldn’t be certain her legs would hold her, but she forced herself to lead him back through Rick’s living room and out the door.
Still too shaken to speak, she drove slowly through the snow toward her father’s house and darted frequent glances at Cameron across the front seat of the car. Shoulders tense, he stared out his window just as he’d been doing from the moment they’d driven away from Rick’s cabin.
If she thought demands would get through to him, she’d create a list. If she believed for one moment that a motherly appeal would touch him, she’d beg. She was losing her son, and she felt powerless to stop it.
She turned through the gates to the Lazy M. Through the snowfall, she could see the dark outline of a vehicle that hadn’t been there when she left earlier. A moment later, she recognized her ex-husband’s Dodge truck and her heart dropped. Had her father called him to help look for Cameron?
She didn’t want to see Gil right now. She didn’t have the energy to explain the argument that had driven Cameron out into the storm. She didn’t want Gil to know Cameron detested her.
Gil had been angry when the court awarded her custody of their only son, and livid when she’d decided to move away. In spite of his claims that he wanted Cameron to live with him, he’d presented one excuse after another to prevent Cameron from visiting that first summer. After that, Cameron had started getting into trouble and had spent most of each summer in makeup classes.
Cameron leapt from the car the second she pulled to a stop, and covered the distance to the house before she could get her own door open. Making an effort to hide her nervousness, she followed him across the snow and up the back steps into the kitchen.
She walked in just as Gil pulled Cameron into a quick hug, then held him at arm’s length. “You’ve sprouted up, son. You look great.”
Marti took in Gil’s thick blond hair and rugged build, his hazel eyes and ready smile. She remembered when the sight of him had set her heart racing. But the two empty beer bottles and a third, half-empty on the table in front of him, brought back the other emotions she’d begun to feel shortly after their wedding.
He turned his gaze on her and whistled softly. “You look terrific, Marti. California must agree with you.”
Forcing a smile, she unzipped her coat and shrugged it off. If Gil could be pleasant, so could she. For Cameron’s sake. “I think it does.” She paused and let her smile relax. “You look good, too.”
Gil patted his stomach and grinned. “Yeah? I’ve lost a few pounds, I guess. I’ve been working hard.”
Cameron plopped down in a chair beside Gil’s and laced his fingers behind his head. “Are you going to stay for dinner?”
Gil glanced at Marti, obviously waiting for her to second the invitation. When she didn’t, he looked back at their son. “Not tonight. I’ve got to get on home. I just stopped by to talk to your grandpa for a minute and to say hello to you and your mom.”
The realization that her father hadn’t called him brought Marti a measure of relief, which she hid.
Pushing away his beer bottle, Gil leaned back in his seat. “Like I said, Henry, it seems to me there ought to be something you can do.”
Marti poured a cup of coffee and held it between her hands, grateful for its warmth. “Do about what?”
Her father studied his fingernails, then glanced at Gil, as if he needed to check with him before he answered.
Gil didn’t hesitate to tell her. “Your dad’s worried about Dennehy opening those cabins again.”
Marti glanced at Cameron for his reaction. He stared at her without blinking and she knew he didn’t want her to tell his father and grandfather about the job he’d just accepted. She looked at Henry. “Why are you worried?” she asked.
“Why?” Her father stared at her incredulously. “Having people wandering all over the place will ruin the Lazy M, that’s why.”
“I don’t think that will happen,” Marti said.
Gil rolled his eyes, exactly the way Cameron always did when she said something he didn’t like. “How do you know it won’t?”
She lowered herself into the chair beside her father’s. “How do you know it will?”
“He had them open for one summer before he left,” Henry argued, “and I had nothing but trouble. I’ll tell you, I thought I had trouble when those damn folks from Kansas City came through looking for a place to build their shop. But this—” He broke off and shook his head in despair. “This just might be worse.”
“What folks?” Marti asked. “What shop?”
Gil waved her question away with one hand. “Don’t-change the subject. We’re talking about Dennehy now.”
Marti’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she did her best to ignore him. “Why don’t you just talk to him, Dad? Tell him what your concerns are.”
Gil covered one of her hands with his. “Marti, honey, why don’t you leave this to your father and me? You can’t be expected to understand.”
She resented the endearment as much as she hated his condescending tone. “Why? Because I’m a woman?”
From across the table, Cameron sighed audibly.
Gil worked up a thin smile. “No, sweetheart. Because you’ve been away so long.”
Henry snorted softly in agreement.
Marti didn’t want Cameron to blame her for starting an argument, so she forced her voice to remain steady. “I haven’t been gone that long.”
“Things change,” her father said slowly. “Times change. Three years is a long time to be away. You can’t just step into a discussion as if you know what’s going on.”
She leaned an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “Then fill me in.”
“Some other time, maybe,” Gil said with a glance out the window. “I should go before the snow gets too deep. How about it, Cameron? Are you game for spending the weekend with me?”
Cameron’s expression fell, but none of the hostility he reserved for Marti surfaced. “I was hoping I could go home with you tonight.”
For half a second, Marti considered changing her mind and letting him go. Maybe that would make him a little less angry with her. But if she did, he’d find one excuse after another to stay with Gil, and she’d lose her only chance to mend things between them. “Not tonight, Cameron.”
Gil frowned at her. “Why not?”
“Because I think he should stay here tonight. I’ve already told him no. Besides, you have to work tomorrow, don’t you?”
Gil nodded reluctantly and scowled at Cameron. “Your mother already said no?”
Cameron nodded, but his eyes snapped with defiance. “Yeah, but it’s stupid. She thinks Grandpa will feel bad. But he doesn’t care if I go with you, do you, Grandpa?”
As she knew he would, her father shook his head. “No problem for me. I can see the boy later.”
“That’s not the point—”
But Gil cut Marti
off. “If your mother already said no, son, then it’s no. You’d better listen to her.”
Marti couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Gil was actually supporting her.
Not surprisingly, Cameron’s expression clouded. “But—”
“No buts.” Gil clamped one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your mother’s right. I have to work all week. But I want you to spend the weekend with me—okay?”
“I don’t mind being alone while you’re working,” Cameron argued. “I can find something to do.”
Again Gil shook his head. “I don’t think so, son. Let’s do what your mother wants.” Turning back to Marti, he lifted his eyebrows as if asking for her approval.
More than a little astonished, she smiled slowly.
Cameron sighed in disgust and pushed away from the table. “Fine.”
Gil acted as if he hadn’t heard the sarcasm in the boy’s tone. He smiled, patted Cameron’s shoulder once more and glanced again at Marti. “Do you mind stepping outside with me? I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”
Marti hesitated for an instant. She’d always hated talking about Cameron when he could hear, but Gil had never before shown any concern about it. She wondered what he had to say tonight that he didn’t want the others to hear, but he’d been acting so differently, it seemed only right to do as he asked.
Nodding quickly, she picked up her coat again. “Sure.” She slipped into the coat, tugged on her gloves and walked toward the door. Before she could open it, Gil reached in front of her and held it while she stepped through into the cold.
Outside, she moved away from the door and turned to face him. “What is it?”
Gil stepped out of the glare of the porch light, which put him a little too close for comfort. Before she could insert any distance between them, he placed both hands on her shoulders. “You really look great.”
