Jenny bent down the rearview mirror and looked at herself. The transformation was amazing, so much so that she did not recognize the stranger looking back at her. Literally, she did not recognize the face. It was an amazing, liberating feeling. All that was left to do was change her name. At that point she would be totally and absolutely disconnected from her past, as if the old Jenny Ashbury no longer existed. The metamorphosis would be complete.
Ivan would not find her in a million years…Or so she hoped.
* * * *
Late in the afternoon she crossed into the small province of Nova Scotia and eventually found herself heading south on a busy highway. Passing exits, she wondered at each one if this was the place that would become her new home. Then Ivan’s threats started echoing in her head, over and over again, like a broken record she could not turn off. Every nerve in her body was on edge, and she knew by now that the hunt was on in earnest. Big time. Ivan was going crazy, his mind racked with confusion and anxiety, his heart set on revenge of the most hideous kind. He would slay her, destroy her, strike her down with a furious vengeance—but only if he could find her.
On the spur of the moment Jenny left the highway and drove along an unpopulated country road. In time, like someone awakening from a restless sleep, she suddenly became conscious of her surroundings and noticed a sign that read “Newbridge 20 miles,” and, below it, the words “Nova Scotia’s Hidden Jewel.”
Newbridge, Jenny thought, liking the name. She was leaving one life and entering a new one, but she needed a bridge to cross. A new bridge. New challenges. New people. A new location. “Yes, Newbridge,” she mumbled. “That’s where I’m going.”
Just at dusk, a rusty station wagon whipped around the corner, veering over the center line. As it approached, Jenny saw two scruffy men wearing plaid shirts. They slowly corrected the steering and stared hard at her. A lump formed in her throat. She glanced into the mirror as they passed and noticed a single brake light come on, then the car pulled onto the shoulder. Were they turning around to come after her? Jenny again looked into the mirror and but lost sight of them as she rounded the corner. She sped up and fear welled up inside her.
By now her anxiety was peaking. In every man she saw trouble, in every woman, a spy. It was as if everyone knew that she was running for her life, as though a flashing billboard betrayed her secrets. They were laughing at her clumsy attempt at concealment, and absolutely everyone was aware she had cut and dyed her hair. At times she wanted to just come out and say it, to put all the subterfuge and lies behind her, but that would have been a disaster. Her life was now a lie, and only lies could save her.
Jenny bit her lip and knitted her brows, but though she kept checking the rearview mirror, she did not see the strangers following in the old car. If she had, she might have lost it. Suddenly, behind her in the distance, she saw headlights flash in her back trail. Those men! They were coming back for her, like ravenous wolves bearing down on a tender fawn stuck in deep snow. No, she would not be a victim any longer. She sped up.
She checked the mirror, her breathing shallow, her heart pounding. So strong was the apprehension that Jenny studied the mirror a moment too long. She drifted to the right and slipped off the pavement at a point where the shoulder was low and the edge jagged. The inside of the front tire instantly ripped.
Thump, thump, thump.
Though she swerved back onto the road and continued driving, it soon became apparent the car would literally travel no farther. She had to stop. Up ahead, to her left, was a small parking area overlooking the ocean. Jenny pulled into it. No one else was there and she felt a tremendous sense of loneliness. For a moment, just a moment, she almost—almost—wished she was back in Florida. At least there everything was familiar. But Ivan was there, too, and any sentimental value for her home was more than offset by memories of him.
A short time later the car behind her passed. It was a small, foreign-made car driven by a woman. Had she known that, she would have flagged her down. It started to sputter rain. Jenny realized she would either have to walk all the way to Newbridge in the rain, sit in the car the entire night, or entice someone to stop and help.
Ten minutes passed. No one came.
On this warm, rainy evening in mid-June, Jenny Ashbury had never felt more alone in her life. She felt a crushing, staggering sense of loneliness. Yet as darkness began to settle over the Atlantic, its vastness stretching further than the eye could see, a sense of calm suddenly started to pervade in her spirit. The ocean put everything into perspective. Its contempt for time made her realize how insignificant were the dramas of human life. We live, we die, but the ocean just keeps on rolling, oblivious to people with their hopes and dreams and fears. In an odd kind of way, her own insignificance made her feel strangely powerful. She was nothing but a speck in the universe, which made her problems an even smaller speck.
As the light faded into darkness, Jenny was jolted back to reality. She was stranded on a darkening road in a strange place. Her sense of power evaporated like morning dew in a parched desert. One moment she felt powerful, and the next she felt anything but powerful. Jenny Ashbury was a mess. Her life had crumbled around her and everything was chaos happening at lightning speed, as if she had been drawn up into a Kansas twister and was holding on for dear life. She had no job, no prospects, no home, no past…no anything. She didn’t even have a reason to exist. Really, if she disappeared, who would even notice? Only Ivan, she was sure, and that was only because he would be upset he did not have a chance to kill her himself.
The mere thought of him made her shudder. But what to do? Walk…Along this road? No, it was now raining harder. It was better to stay in the car. The car was at least familiar, comforting.
More time passed…
Jenny tried to remain composed, but it became more difficult by the second. Total darkness fell and not a single car passed in either direction. There really was no reason to feel any heightened sense of fear, but what had begun as a dull foreboding grew by degrees into accepted fact. Any moment those rough men who passed her earlier would round the corner. What then? No one would hear her screams. No one would rescue her.
She could stand it no longer. Jenny broke down and hot tears flowed, slowly at first, then in a torrent. It was as if she had restrained a great dam of emotions during a long storm. Now, able to be contained no longer, the dam burst in a gushing, headlong wave, her sobs fracturing the silence of the enveloping darkness.
She felt a stifling sense of vulnerability. She was tired of the world, the cold, anonymous world. Life was too difficult, much, much too difficult. In a way it would be a relief to just die and fade away. At least then there would be peace. And all she had ever asked for was a good and decent life, a man to love, a family someday. But nothing of the sort was to be hers. She was reduced to the life of a fugitive who always has to look over her shoulder. She would never find love, happiness, peace. At best she could hope to survive and exist.
By now it was raining hard and she was getting legitimately scared. Suddenly headlights flashed up the road. The thought crossed her mind that Ivan might have been tracking her somehow. He was into all the latest technology and just days earlier he had watched a television report on tracking cars with a GPS device. Jenny could tell he was fascinated with the concept. Given time, she was sure, he would have been monitoring her. Hopefully he had not gotten the device before she ran.
Jenny got out of her car and hurried to the road. The vehicle rounded the corner and came toward her, its wipers steadily swishing. Was this salvation? Or was it those men? Those men, who, like Ivan, wanted to hurt her? Was it, somehow, Ivan himself? Jenny’s heart raced, torn between hope and terror. If she had to, she would run into the woods. She would run so fast they would never catch her. But if they somehow did, they were not going to take her without a fight. This time she would not cower in fear from a man. She would kick and scratch and do whatever it took.
As the vehicle approached, part of
her wanted to flag it down and another part of her wanted to run. And what if it really was those men? Drunken, lawless men? This was worse than a Hitchcock movie. This was real. And in her mind she was about to become an innocent victim, a curiosity for some grizzled homicide detective.
Then, in a moment of glorious relief, as when a soul lost at sea is spotted by a search plane, she realized this vehicle was a pickup truck. A huge weight dissolved off her chest. Suddenly it didn’t seem so dark and isolated anymore. Her initial resolve returned and she was convinced she had made the right decision in fleeing to Nova Scotia.
Jenny wildly flailed her arms to attract the occupants’ attention— no way was she going to let them pass. Headlights flashed over her and the truck slowed. She could not make out who was inside, though it was obvious she had been seen. But the truck drove past without stopping. Jenny shouted and again waved her arms in near panic. Finally, forty yards down the road, the brake lights came on and the truck pulled over to the shoulder. Jenny frantically ran toward the truck and noticed a small lamb looking at her from the boxedin back.
The driver turned on the interior light, rolled down the window, and looked back at her. An immediate and undeniable jolt of electricity surged through her body. She visibly trembled. And so did he. Jenny saw it, plainly and unmistakably. The spark between them was so obvious that for a moment they both seemed embarrassed.
The man before Jenny was handsome. Brutally handsome. As fine-looking a man as she had ever seen. He opened the door and stepped out, highly surprised to have encountered a woman under these circumstances. Over six feet tall, with an engaging face, he was the type of man women immediately notice. Wearing only a T-shirt and blue jeans, he was much bigger and more muscular than anyone she had ever dated, but there was something powerfully elemental and sexy about him…But then again, he was a man. One of them.
It started to pour and the gorgeous man gazed at her, his eyes locked, almost as if caught in a magic spell. He was literally unable to look away from Jenny, and she could not turn away from him, even though the rain rolled down her cheeks and the wind tossed her hair.
“Thank heavens you stopped!” Jenny cried breathlessly. “For a moment I thought you didn’t see me.”
The man said nothing and Jenny studied his features. It was hard to guess his age, but she thought midthirties. His unshaven visage had a rough, sullen expression, and Jenny couldn’t help but think how differently a man like him would feel if his car broke down. He would be annoyed, but not afraid. And now that he was there, Jenny wasn’t afraid either. She didn’t know the man, but because he had arrived in her time of need, she was grateful to him. He had a presence, something special—maybe authority, or self-confidence—whatever it was, it was that thing some men possess, the ability to inspire confidence, to seize control of a situation in a way which calms and comforts others around them, especially women.
This man had that quality in spades.
She stepped forward and peeked into the truck cab, wanting to be reassured by the sight of another woman, but the man was alone. Some of his clothes were draped over the seat. His big, soft sweater particularly caught her eye. It was made of blue wool and was so huge that she could have used it for a blanket. Lying behind the seat was a gun case and, next to it, a box of bullets. Jenny’s mind instantly started playing tricks on her and she was suddenly overwhelmed with the notion that this man had been hired by Ivan to kill her.
“What’s the problem?” the man asked shortly, obviously not the least concerned with her, except that he wanted to be free of her as soon as possible.
Jenny, numb with fright, replied timidly, “I…I got a flat.”
He smirked at her as they walked to her car. “You shouldn’t be traveling this old road unless you can take care of yourself.” He motioned toward the trunk. “I need the jack and spare.”
Jenny turned on her interior light and pulled the lever to pop her trunk. Though she had developed a strong distaste for the arrogant man, she decided to be friendly, at least until he fixed the flat. Then she could drive away and never see him again.
“I was heading to Newbridge,” she said.
“There’s no sense in you standing out here and getting soaked. Go sit in my truck.”
She felt a powerful surge of pride. “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll stand right here.”
The man furrowed his brows. “Suit yourself, lady.”
“I will,” she replied instantly, and sharply.
He quickly changed the tire, tightened the lug nuts, and lowered the car. He glanced at her, then picked up the jack and flat tire.
“I can do that,” she said proudly.
He made a strange face as he relinquished the muddy jack and tire. Jenny found the tire heavy and awkward, but she carried it even though her clothes got smeared with mud. She put the tire down behind the car and took out her keys to open the trunk, but she dropped them. She glanced back and saw the man watching her, though he was futilely trying to turn away. Jenny knew her loose lime-green top, now soaked, lifted up and revealed her soft, pear-shaped bottom, accentuated by the black, stretchy pants that clung to her curves like a second skin. The man noticed. Really noticed. And she liked that. The man watched dispassionately as she bent over to pick them up.
His eyes were drawn to the soft contours of her bottom like a moth is drawn to light. Though he tried to turn away, his head snapped back like elastic. She was irresistible, impossibly sexy. He felt a stirring over which he had no control, as though a giant was awakening from prolonged sleep. It was uncomfortable. Unstoppable. He didn’t like it, but his eyes imprisoned him…and he was doing hard time.
Jenny drew the man with a language that has been unspoken for millennia, but a language that is universal and unending. Sex appeal, desire, fascination—call it what you will, it was happening right here, right now, and on a grand scale. Jenny had not even realized she was presenting herself to this stranger in such an erotic manner, but she could see by his eyes that he was drunk, drawn deep into dark, delicious realms. Normally she would have pulled away immediately, but she pretended not to notice his admiration. She deliberately took her time, moving her behind back and forth, its mystical properties as powerful to him as the hypnotic flute is to a cobra.
She finally straightened up, put away her things, and closed the trunk. When she turned to face him, he was weak and she knew she possessed great power with him.
“When you get to Newbridge,” the man said, almost angrily, “have that flat tire repaired or replaced. You can’t drive without a spare.” He turned to walk away. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” she said. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Good-bye,” he said in such a way that it seemed he never wanted to see her again.
The man returned to his truck. As Jenny got into her car, she caught herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Yes, kiss him! This surly fellow, this man who stopped only because his conscience would not allow him to pass, this cold fish—yes, she had thoughts of kissing him. And not just any run-of-the-mill kiss either. She thought of kissing him with heat, with passion, with no inhibitions.
Then she snapped out of it. “What are you thinking, girl?” she muttered, shaking her head with disgust. She pursed her lips. “You really are totally sex starved!”
Jenny pulled out onto the road. The man waited for her to go first. Why, she didn’t know. It seemed inconceivable that he was concerned for her well-being and was making sure she reached Newbridge, but he followed at a distance, always keeping her in sight. As she drove in the rain, the man following her like a reluctant guardian angel, Jenny felt an odd sensation of joy. This world was so different. An elemental kind of place, but really quite beautiful. She had never seen the North Atlantic Ocean before, never heard the Canadian sea smashing against the ancient granite shores. Maybe things would work out after all.
Feeling upbeat, Jenny entered Newbridge and pulled into a gas station. She asked directions f
or the nearest lodgings. As the attendant started to explain her options, the truck drove past and the man looked at her. He quickly turned away, but she could tell he was determined to make sure she arrived safely. He didn’t have to say it—she could see it in his eyes. They were two ships passing in the night, and never again would their paths cross, but they had connected for a moment in time, and she would never forget the smell of the ocean, the wind, the rain, and, most of all, the gorgeous, fascinating man who had helped her.
I’ll never see you again, she thought.
“I just moved here,” the attendant told her, “so I’m not too familiar with the town, but there’s an old-fashioned hotel up on Captain’s Lane.”
Jenny liked the sound of the place, so she searched it out. She pulled into an impressive but neglected hotel that stood on a large parcel of land in the center of town. It contained a sprawling main building and was flanked with identical east and west wings. Even in the dark, Jenny noticed the grounds were poorly kept and the building was in desperate need of paint. Behind the hotel was a shed with several smashed windows. Beside it, obscured by a wall of vines and branches, sat a quaint, two-story cottage. A sign reading The Captain’s House was nailed on the wall.
The dwelling was enveloped in melancholy darkness, but a solitary streetlight cast an eerie glow on the upper level window. Though Jenny had obviously never seen the house before, it seemed she had. In fact, the structure seemed intimately and unbelievably familiar to her. Struck by this thought, she suddenly noticed out of the corner of her eye that someone was holding aside a curtain and looking out from the upstairs window. To her utter astonishment, Jenny quickly realized it was a woman, and she was stark naked. Stark naked! Not a stitch on. The woman was her age, had long black hair and a very pretty face. Her figure was full and rounded. She had large, heavy breasts, the nipples clearly visible against her pale white skin, an hourglass shape, and, between her legs an unnaturally large shock of thick black hair.
Passions in the North Country (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 2
