Shelter from the Storm

by Molly Wens

  Despite everything, I want you to know that my only wish for you is that you find happiness in your solitude, though I know your heart and know that you will be miserable. I will mourn for you and I will always love you, even if you don't care what happens to me or our child. You are a fool, Bryce, to throw away what we have, and I'm a fool for letting you get by with it. Take care of yourself and think of us from time to time.

  All my love,

  Cari

  Bryce read her words again; he had lost count of how many times. The fire in the grate was dying, dwindling away in the passage of time while he digested her words over and over. He was going to be a father; the idea was trying to sink in, to be recognized for its reality. He was going to be a father. He had impregnated Carissa and she was gone. She was gone and someone else would be father to his child.

  He knew her well enough to know that she meant what she had written. She would find somebody else to be a father to his child, someone who would be there no matter what life threw his way. Some other person would know the beauty of waking next to her every morning; feel her warmth and her strength. Another man would make her eyes sparkle and smile while he rotted in his mountain banishment.

  Anna popped into his mind, reminding him of the dreams that he had once shared with her, dreams of their future and the family they had planned to create. He had believed that he would never again have the opportunity to know that hope or that joy, and now the chance of a new future had been dropped in his lap. He had tossed it away with both hands, but he told himself it was for the best. His child would have better prospects, a better likelihood of a good life without him as a father. If the child was a son, that boy did not need to have his father's name to drag him down, to make him a subject of ridicule. If the child was a daughter, a girl with her mother's green eyes and dancing curls...

  Bryce had always wanted kids, had always wanted the chance to give his children the same happy childhood that he had known—a son to whom he could teach the ways of the mountains, a daughter to cherish and spoil and whose boyfriends he could frighten. Someone else would benefit from the life he had created with Carissa, someone else would teach these things to his child.

  The child was his, though. How could anyone else know what his child would need to be healthy and happy? How could Cari assume that some other man would be good enough to raise his son or his daughter? Did she honestly expect him to just sit back and allow it to happen, forget his responsibilities to his own baby?

  Anger began to build from deep within toward the beauty who had taken his heart—and his baby—to live without him, to bear his child and give it someone else's name. He would see her in hell first, he decided, as he tossed the book back to the floor. The bitch had better be prepared, he thought, because I'm going to claim what's mine.

  Skoll yelped and ran for cover as Bryce vaulted from the edge of the bed, stalked to the closet and jerked the door open. He rifled through the contents, searching for the extra equipment he would need to make the arduous climb down the mountain through the storm that still raged along the rocky slopes. Any article that was unfortunate enough to get in his way suffered a vicious pitch out into the middle of the room.

  His bedroll was still by the front door where he had dropped it after his return—when he had watched Carissa disappear with her arms wrapped around the park ranger's middle. He would need to carry shelter in the form of a small tent, food with extra rations for Skoll and a small lantern so that he could travel at night. He intended to get to her as fast as he could, to set her straight and make her understand that he would be keeping his child and she could be damned.

  He gathered his equipment and supplies and crammed everything haphazardly into his backpack, removed it all and packed it again, this time taking care to do it correctly. He struggled to get hold of his emotions, the fury in him raged like the howling wind outside. He had no plan, only knew that he had to get to her, stop her from giving his child to another man. Logic dictated that it would be impossible for her to find someone so soon but that did not matter. He was furious and he wanted to confront her now.

  * * * *

  The day was waning as the Claire-Smith company jet touched down at Abraham Lincoln Capital Airport in Springfield, Illinois. Carissa's heart had skipped a beat when she had seen the skyline of her hometown, her impatience to see her family causing her to wish she could jump out of the damned plane and land in her own yard. It seemed strange to look at the bare ground and not see a ceaseless blanket of snow covering everything.

  She pulled her second-hand jacket on over her arms, wishing that she could greet her family wearing something a little more appealing. Most of her things that were found in that evil van had been ruined, so she was forced to make do with the castoffs that had been donated after her rescue. She had her seatbelt off before the craft had stopped rolling along the tarmac, and was fidgeting at the door before the co-pilot could get it open. The man was hard-pressed to restrain her as he lowered the door, dropping the steps into place.

  A long, black limousine pulled close to the aircraft, stopping a few yards away. “Oh, hurry up,” Carissa hissed as the small staircase was locked in place. The back door of the limo opened and the first person that exited it was her mother, Alice, the older woman's face glowing radiantly as she smiled. Then both children burst from the vehicle, an explosion of exuberance and youthful enthusiasm. They were screaming excitedly, as only small children can do, with their cheeks glowing and their hair dancing on the December breeze.

  Carissa shoved the co-pilot out of her way and nearly sprouted wings on the way down the stairs. Both children hit her at once, knocking her to the ground as she bent to scoop them into her arms. All the hurt, all the sadness disappeared in the warm glow of being smothered with their hugs. Little Zane was trying to choke her with his arms from behind as baby Sheanna clutched the front of her sweater. Both crooned, “Mommy, mommy,” endlessly as Carissa's joyful tears fell.

  "Mommy's home,” she told them. “Mommy's home."

  "My baby's home,” a voice said from above her. Carissa looked up to see Alice, tears streaming down her face, smiling broadly at her.

  "Mom!” Carissa cried as she struggled to her feet while still clutching Sheanna and with Zane still holding fast around her neck. She shifted her diminutive daughter to one arm while circling her other around her mother's shoulders, sniffling softly, her entire body shaking. “I'm so sorry, Mama. You must've been worried sick. I'm sorry,” she sobbed into her mother's collar.

  "Shh, Baby. Don't you worry about a thing. You have nothing to be sorry for. You're back safe now,” Alice murmured, hugging her only child in return as she struggled against her own tears.

  Carissa pulled back to have another look at her mother's face and the two children that wriggled against her body. It was easy to see that the past two months had aged Alice—her tired face was pale and drawn, her hair was more gray than it had been. The two kids still clinging to Carissa appeared to have grown, but their faces had not changed, were still the cherub-like visages that she had held so desperately in her mind and heart.

  A sudden flurry of movement to the left drew her thoughts away from her family as she turned her head to see who was now exiting the long, black car. Her mouth clamped shut in disgust when she saw the two men, both of whom she had been planning to admonish for what her little family had been through. She watched as they approached, scathing words forming in her brain to be held in check as she decided which one to start on first. Her mother whispered urgently that they had insisted upon coming along, that she had wanted only family to greet her daughter. Carissa wondered how they could dare to invade her privacy and the homecoming she had so anxiously anticipated.

  Christopher Davidson was the first to reach her, his face beaming, his hand out when he got within range. “Carissa, damn, it's good to see you. I hope your trip home wasn't too..."

  "Who the hell do you think you are?” her demanding voice cut him off. She s
et Sheanna down and reached up to take Zane's arms from round her neck, lowering him to the pavement. “Mom, take the kids back to the car, please.” She waited a moment for her mother to do as she asked before turning to the two men beside her. She looked at Davidson, a man she had always considered a friend, her anger toward him visibly crackling over the surface of her skin.

  "Chris, I cannot believe that even you would stoop so low as to put the faces of my two children on national television. Have you lost your fucking mind? How many times did you ambush my mother and my babies after I disappeared? Do you have any idea how many freaks out there would use the kind of information you made so public to harm my kids? I could tear your goddamn head off, you stupid son of a bitch!"

  "Whoa, there. Slow down just a minute,” the other man said.

  Carissa turned from Davidson's startled face to look at his companion, a man she truly despised and the station manager, Tom Mavis. He had been hired by the corporate office only weeks before she had taken that trip to Wyoming but he had shown himself to be an unpleasant, uncaring person with no concept of how human beings should treat each other. The arrogant bastard glared at her, seemingly perturbed that she would have any opinion about how the station used her family to garner ratings. He stepped up to her, ready to do battle, his beady eyes sweeping her from head to toe.

  "I'm the one who told Chris to cover the story. Corporate wanted it for the news wire, and as our employee, we expect you to comply. It's only because Chris insisted upon giving you and yours a little privacy right now that there isn't a crew here to cover your homecoming. We're going to have a camera crew at your house tonight to interview you and your family for the Early News, we'd like you to be sitting down to dinner so we can get a good shot of the family together."

  Carissa was astounded, looking at each of their faces in turn. Davidson appeared embarrassed, if not a touch angry while Mavis was all but rubbing his hands together in avaricious glee. The look in the latter's eyes told her she would do as she was told if she knew what was good for her.

  "Chris,” she said, her voice tightly controlled. “You and I have been friends for a long time. I have always valued that friendship and respected your ability as a newsman. I was angry with you before because you always put the news first and friendship second, but I could understand that, it's the business you chose. But, know this; if you allowed this arrogant, greedy, slimy piece of shit to dictate what you put on as news, then you have lost my respect."

  Mavis, incensed at her insult, had just opened his mouth to offer a scathing retort when Carissa turned on him. She directed her next words at him, daring him to take offense.

  "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you engineered this whole fiasco just for the exclusive the station could get on the story, but that would require more cunning than you possess,” she sneered. “Don't even think for one minute that I'm going to allow you to disrupt my life and my privacy—and further endanger my kids or cause them one more moment of grief—because you are sadly mistaken. I will meet the fucking crew at the door with my father's shotgun. I will destroy the camera and fill their asses with buckshot if they come knocking, and then I'll take that gun to you. You want to fire me? Go right ahead.

  "I have enough on you and the entire Claire-Smith Corporation to sue you into the ground. And don't think I won't do it, either. I've had enough, do you hear me? My family has suffered enough because of you people."

  Carissa had begun to advance, each step toward him causing him to retreat slowly. She was daring him to take action, hoping that he would so she could really let him have it. “I'm spoiling for a fight, you asshole, so bring it on! I was sent off on a wild goose chase, kidnapped, viciously attacked, injured, scarred for life, nearly killed by the environment and disease, and trapped in a wilderness a million miles from nowhere for seven weeks.

  "My mother spent those weeks’ worried sick, not knowing if her only daughter was alive or dead. My children woke up screaming with nightmares every night. I suffered for not being able to let them know I was alive or hold them and tuck them in at night. To top it all off, my ex-husband is using my absence—that you caused—to try to take my kids away from me and abuse them. So don't even dare try to make me comply with your sick fantasy of having my family's misfortune boost your ratings. In short, Mr. Mavis, you can go straight to hell."

  Carissa charged between the two men just as her tirade ended, marching to the limousine and yanking the door open. She tossed her meager bag of belongings onto the seat before climbing in and slamming the door. Pressing the automatic door lock switch, she yelled to the driver to take them home, leaving the two men to stand on the tarmac in the tiny airport.

  Carissa's departure and arrival times had been kept strictly secret because of the media frenzy surrounding her rescue. Apparently, the word had gotten out, though, because several reporters stood on Carissa's lawn as the limo turned down her street. Most of them milled about aimlessly until they saw the sleek black car turn the corner, headed their way. Suddenly they banded together as a small group, ready to pounce on the occupants of the vehicle as soon as they pulled up.

  "Jesus,” Carissa hissed when she saw the throng.

  "Carissa Jane!” her mother admonished. “Mind your language."

  "Sorry, mother,” she replied dourly. “Driver, don't stop. Get us out of here."

  "Where to, ma'am?” the man behind the wheel asked.

  "Nowhere. Just drive and give me a chance to think."

  Carissa was livid, wondering why people would not just let her family be. Closing the partition between the driver and the passenger compartment and fixing her mother with a glum expression, she held out her hand.

  "Mom, do you have your cell phone? I got mine back but I think being exposed to the elements probably destroyed it."

  "Mommy, what's wrong?” Zane asked.

  Little Sheanna burrowed against her mother's side, whimpering softly, uncertainty evident in her enormous eyes. Carissa wrapped an arm around her, hugging her tightly before punching the digits on the keypad of the small phone.

  "Nothing, baby,” she told her son. “Just a change in plans, sweetie."

  "Cari, who are you calling?"

  "You remember my friend Melissa that used to be a reporter at the station?"

  "Yes, of course. The two of you have been friends for years. We talked on the phone several times since that awful day. She'll be tickled to hear your voice. Didn't she take a job in the governor's office?"

  "Yep. She's his PR person. I'm going to ask her to do me a fav...” Carissa stopped short as someone on the other end of the call answered. “Melissa? Thank you. It's good to hear your voice too ... Yes, I'm thrilled but I haven't been able to go home just yet ... Yeah, reporters, trampling my lawn. Can you help? I can't take the kids through that mess...” Carissa fell silent as she listened to her friend until a bright, devious smile spread across her face. “Yes, a black stretch job, like we hired for Amelia's bachelorette party ... You're an evil saint, Melissa!” Carissa laughed. “That's perfect. I knew you would come up with something. Did this number show on your caller ID? Okay, I'll wait for your call. Thank you so much ... You too. Take care."

  Carissa disconnected and handed the telephone back to Alice. She sat grinning at her mother, a wicked gleam in her green eyes. She hugged each of her children, tickling them until they giggled merrily.

  "Well?” demanded Alice. “What did you two hatch?"

  "Misdirection,” Carissa snickered. “The same type she uses whenever her boss wants a little private time away from the public eye,” she opened the partition and called out to the chauffeur. “Driver—I hate calling you that. What's your name?"

  "Greg Lyman, ma'am."

  "Greg, I'm Carissa, as I'm sure you know, and my mom's name is Alice. I have a big favor to ask of you. Would you mind taking us for a nice drive in the country for about an hour?"

  "Not at all, as long as the station people don't mind the extra charge.
"

  "Trust me, Greg; they'll pay if they know what's good for them. Here's the deal: my friend is sending out about a dozen cars just like this to distract the media. One will try to pull in the drive, then leave and try to get the reporters to follow. They'll be chasing phantoms all over town. Melissa is going to go wait at the house and give us the all-clear as soon as they're gone, so we probably don't want to go too far out."

  Greg chuckled as he answered, “I'll take you out to the lake and give the kids a chance to stretch their legs a bit. How does that sound?"

  "Perfect,” both women called in unison. Once they were at a small lakeside playground they all got out to allow the children to play on the swing set in the chilly twilight. Greg leaned against the vehicle and lit a cigarette while mother and daughter sat on a nearby picnic table to watch the kids. Alice took Carissa's hand and squeezed it affectionately.

  "I'm so happy to have you home, dear. I don't mind telling you that I was scared to death, not knowing where you were, but I knew you were alive. I have you right here.” Alice balled her free hand into a fist and pressed it to her breast, covering her heart. “I never gave up hope for even one minute."

  "That was one of the worst things about it, Mom, knowing that you would be so worried. I saw you and the kids in my dreams every night. I missed you all so much I felt like I was coming apart."

  "I know, baby. It was the same for me. Then when I found out that you had been holed up with a murderer...” Alice gave a little gasp. “It liked to scared the daylights out of me."

  "Mom, he's not a murderer. He's not a bad man, just a jackass."

  "The news reports said that he had killed his wife because she was about to leave him and he wanted her money. Did they get it wrong?"

  Carissa snorted. “He didn't murder anyone. She wasn't leaving him. They were planning a family, for crying out loud. It was an accident, Mom. He said that she was nearly cut in half. He was badly hurt, too."

  "So you're saying he didn't kill her?"

  Carissa stared across the gently rippling water, a sigh slipping from her lips. “You remember when grandma was so sick? When the cancer had nearly eaten her alive and the pain was so terrible?"