Memory Whispers

by Angel Smits

Her heart hurt as she turned to leave, but she couldn’t leave. Kneeling again, she brushed the leaves and debris away. She wanted—no needed—to clean the lonely graves. A drop fell onto her hand. She looked up at the sky. Only the wispy clouds were visible. She was crying, not the sky.

  “Oh, Timmy. Rafe.”

  She cried Maria’s tears. She cried her own tears. She shed every mother’s tears. She let all the emotions of loss she’d kept bottled up inside wash over her as she shoved leaves and dirt away.

  Suddenly, her knuckles scraped something else hard, and she rocked back on her heels. No. She didn’t want to brush any more leaves away. She wanted to turn and run.

  Another drop of wetness hit her hand. This time it wasn’t a tear. The clouds had arrived. The leaves bounced with the force of the drops.

  Nature revealed what Faith had been too afraid to see. Maria Cumberland.

  Faith ran. She knew she’d gone the wrong direction as soon as the forest closed in around her. The trees were too thick, but which way was the trail to her car? She kept going, hoping she’d find the meadow. Her thoughts still spinning.

  Her own grave. Images filled her mind. Tim Gibson’s words, or her own memories, she wasn’t sure, but she remembered kneeling beside the two graves. She remembered the fervent prayers, the begging, and the pleading. She remembered warm hands helping her to her feet and comforting her. She’d made Tim Gibson promise right then and there to bring her here with them when her time came.

  He’d kept his promise.

  She stumbled. Her hip hit the ground hard. Her shoulders followed. The fabric of her jacket tore. Slick, wet dirt offered no purchase. Each bump bruised and jarred her bones.

  The camera strap snapped. Its familiar weight fell from her neck. The heartbreaking sound of cracking metal and plastic vaguely registered as she slid farther down the steep slope.

  CORD PUSHED THE play button on the machine again. Damn her. Couldn’t she just let him go? The sound of her voice filled his office. Soft and warm, she asked him to call her.

  And he had called. Twice. She hadn’t answered. He dialed the number again, slamming the receiver into the cradle when her machine picked up—again. Where the hell was she?

  Every muscle in Cord’s body ached. He’d driven himself and Johnny harder than he’d ever thought possible. Pausing for a moment, Cord leaned back in his chair, staring unseeingly at the view. Johnny was out back unloading the shipment that had just arrived. Gamblers filled the main hall, and there wasn’t a seat to be had at the bar. Business was good. He should be thrilled.

  Maybe she was out taking pictures. He envisioned her bending low, trying to get the right angle, the right light . . . he loved the way her jeans clung in all the right places when she did that.

  He could almost see her there in the woods. Suddenly Cord realized he was seeing her. The newly replaced window reflected an image. He stared. What the—?

  Frozen inside the glass, Faith screamed. He couldn’t hear her, but he saw her face. His heart heard her pain. She ran through branches and thick mounds of fallen leaves. Where was she going? Who was chasing her?

  Clenching his fists, he watched helplessly as she tumbled. He saw her fall farther down the side of the mountain. A nasty precipice appeared.

  “Faith!” he cried. The image vanished, and he found himself staring at his own white-faced reflection as it mingled with the view on the other side. Where the hell was she?

  “HELP!” FAITH TUMBLED farther down the slope. The hard trunk of a ponderosa pine stopped her fall. She laid there, her breath coming in quick panting breaths. The cold rain splashed onto her face. Every inch of her ached.

  Her feet dangled over an edge. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to know.

  “Hey. You okay?” Footfalls heralded the arrival of an old man, his hair whitened with age and the ebony of his skin creased with time. He knelt beside her and she immediately recognized him as the maintenance man from the museum, Ned. Where had he come from? What was he doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

  “Mercy, girl. You tryin’ to kill yerself?”

  “No. No. I tripped.” Faith shivered from the cold and his macabre words. She gingerly sat up, testing every joint. She’d be sore, but no permanent damage.

  “Goodness, you gave me a scare. These sudden storms can catch ya by surprise. Ground gets pretty slick.” The old timer moved back. His poncho shed the rain, creating a puddle at his feet.

  Faith’s heart pounded against her ribs. “I was trying to get back to my car.”

  “The main road’s clear over that a-way.” He pointed behind his back.

  “I figured that.” She hated admitting she’d gone the wrong direction. She didn’t want to explain what had scared her enough to confuse her. He’d think she was nuts.

  “Here, let me help you.” The old man reached down and with surprisingly strong arms, lifted her to her feet. Once she was standing steady, he took a step back. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he teased.

  She hadn’t been sure if he’d recognized her. She blushed. “Thank you.” She attempted to brush the mud off her jeans. It was hopeless. Her icy cold clothes were plastered to her skin. Now that she stood, her hair hung in her face. She pushed it back, feeling twigs and leaves caught in the mass. Yuck.

  She avoided looking at the ravine they stood so dangerously close to. Instead she peered at the man. She had to tilt her head back to look into his face.

  “I can show ya a short cut back to the main road.”

  “I’d really appreciate that.” She hoped it didn’t involve going past that old house, or past the graves. She shivered. At least she’d have company and that comforted her. There was something warm about him, something reassuring in his voice.

  “This way.”

  Ned moved surprisingly quick. He wasn’t soaked to the skin or wearing tennis shoes, she noted. He wore the slicker and heavy hiking boots. The steep incline she’d fallen down shifted to the left, and he followed a ridge that looked like natural stairs. When they reached a landing, he stopped. She nearly ran into him.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” he whispered. Faith followed his gaze and gasped.

  The entire valley lay at their feet. The summer greens and autumn golds blended into a breathtaking palate. Late afternoon sunlight shafted through the breaking clouds at the edge of the storm. On instinct, Faith reached for her camera. Pain shot through her heart.

  The old man continued the climb. “Wait. I lost my camera.”

  “You ain’t gonna find it now.”

  “I have to!” She heard the panic in her voice and turned to go back and look. The old man sighed and followed her down the hill.

  Despite the rain still pouring over them, they searched the field. Up and down the hill. She shivered violently, and her teeth chattered long before she was willing to admit the camera was gone.

  “I’ll see if I can find it later after this clears up,” Ned said.

  He came up beside her, and she jumped, startled. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms in a pathetic attempt to get warm. “I don’t want to bother you, but it’s really important to me.”

  “You need to get warm and dry.” He put a big, warm hand on her arm and she didn’t argue. Disappointment washed over her. They didn’t speak again, and in a few minutes they stepped out of an aspen stand where her feet met the paved highway. Her little car sat only a few yards away. Relief washed over her.

  Spinning around, she started to thank him. He was gone. “Ned, where did you go?” She looked around the road and trees. “Thank you,” she yelled, hoping he heard her. Only silence answered.

  Water dripped off her hair and clothes. She sneezed. “Damn. Now I’ll probably catch cold.” She struggled to pull her keys from her sodden jeans pocket. It took several minutes before her c
old fingers cooperated enough to turn the ignition.

  Her hands shook, but she convinced herself it was the cold. She slammed the door of her mind on the things she’d seen out there in the woods.

  CRIPPLE CREEK NEVER looked so welcoming, and the hotel was an oasis. After checking in, she hurried to her room and quickly stripped. She couldn’t get into the hot bath fast enough.

  She slid into the bubbles, soaking up the heat and the scent. Would she ever stop hurting? Several abrasions stung, and she made a mental note to get some ointment at the drugstore. This town was hazardous to her health. She laughed. Big shock there. It would be so easy to get hysterical at this point.

  Suddenly, someone pounded on the door of her room. She closed her eyes. Now what? She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see or hear or talk to anyone.

  “I’m busy right now,” she yelled, hoping they’d get the hint.

  They didn’t. The door nearly flew off its hinges. She ducked beneath the bubbles, but that did little to calm the racing of her heart.

  Cord stood in the open bathroom doorway, all broad shouldered and gorgeous . . . and totally angry. The little muscle in his cheek practically jumped to life. She could only stare.

  “What the hell are you doing back here?” he growled, the sound echoing around the room.

  She didn’t have the nerve to tell him she was taking a bath. That little bit of sass would probably have him going for her throat. She swallowed. Even the thought of his touch set her blood on fire.

  What could she say to him? Where did she begin? She leaned her head back on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. Laughter bubbled up from her throat. Laughter that would have sounded cool and uncaring if her eyes hadn’t betrayed her by filling with tears.

  “Damn it,” he growled, more softly this time. “Now what?”

  He stepped closer, his manly scent warring—and winning—with the soft bubble bath. The pictures she’d developed in her dark room leapt into her mind. He wasn’t dead. He was alive and well and here with her.

  He was safe. A tear slipped from beneath her closed lids and slid across her cheek.

  For now.

  Fifteen

  “YOU FELL, DIDN’T you? Halfway down a mountain.” Cord’s words were quiet but hard. He had to force them from his chest.

  Faith opened her eyes and stared. “Yes. How . . . how did you know?” Her teeth chattered.

  “I saw it.” The images flashed through his mind. Images of her legs dangling over a precipice. Similar images of Timmy’s tangled body at the bottom of a mineshaft.

  “How?”

  “In that damned window in my office. Like a movie or something.” Next week he fully intended to buy drapes—heavy drapes—for the cursed thing. “Hell, I’m going nuts.”

  Here he stood, a woman in front of him wearing nothing but soap bubbles, and he wasn’t even thinking about her body. Okay, now he was. Cord turned and stomped out of the room. He slammed the bathroom door between them.

  “Cord, wait!” she called.

  “I will. Out here.”

  Her suitcase sat on the luggage stand. She hadn’t even opened it. The room looked clean, old-fashioned, and serviceable. His gaze roamed to the large, iron double bed in the corner.

  The scent of soap bubbles teased him and his anger grew.

  What was she doing here? His livelihood depended on keeping his world on an even keel. He focused on that while he waited for her.

  The bathroom door opened, and Faith stepped out wearing a thick, fluffy white robe. He immediately thought of waking up in her white lace bedroom. Heat engulfed his body, and he fought against reaching out to her. He swallowed his desire. She’d washed the grime from her face and hair, and the mass of curls hung long and damp down her back. She looked so damned beautiful, her skin still dewy . . .

  “What are you doing in Cripple Creek?” He stepped back. Sadness and fear, and something else he couldn’t quite read, settled into her eyes. She looked away, hiding from him.

  “I had to come back. I have to re-shoot everything.” A frown creased her brow.

  “Why?”

  She shook her head and looked up at him. “Delta destroyed everything.” She clasped her hands together, from nerves or the cold he wasn’t sure.

  “What are you talking about?” he prompted when she didn’t elaborate. He’d probably be kicking himself for this later. Did he really want to know?

  “I started developing the pictures after you left. Oh, Cord, it was awful.”

  The pain in her voice tore at him, but he stood his ground. He reminded himself of their last meeting, when she’d called him Rafe. “Go on.”

  If she noticed his distance, she didn’t show it. “There were images I didn’t take on the film. Four total. The first was of Delta looking right at the camera. It was spooky. When I tried to show Clarissa the pictures, the images faded away. Clarissa said Delta only wants me to get the message.”

  “And what’s the message?” He took a deep breath and held it. Faith looked up at him, her chin lifting. He resisted the urge to smile at her attempt at defiance.

  “The second photo was of Rafe kissing Delta. The third was of Delta. She was dead and . . . Rafe held the gun.”

  “She’s showing you the history we already know. What’s the point?” He turned away, staring outside. The sky remained remarkably blue and clear. He relaxed, a little. “We know Rafe killed her.” He’d almost grown comfortable with that knowledge. Almost.

  “There was one more.”

  He heard her move and wasn’t surprised to feel her fingers lightly touching his arm. He closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy it for just a moment. He opened them again and turned to glare at her. She didn’t move away.

  “It was of you. Not Rafe.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she cleared it twice before speaking again. “You were wearing the clothes you wore that day when we were at the museum.” Tears sparkled in her eyes, and she hastily blinked them away.

  “You were the one shot this time. Oh, Cord, you were staring into the camera, but there was no life in your eyes.” Her voice broke on the last words. “We can’t let her win.”

  He’d spent several long minutes afraid he’d actually seen her die. Now she claimed to have stared into his lifeless eyes. His fear returned. This time he gave into his need to touch her, needing to feel something real. He pulled her into his arms, roughly finding her lips with his.

  She tasted sweet and so very much alive. Even with her here in his arms, the fear clung tight.

  She resisted his kiss for a moment, pushing against his chest. Then her touch shifted, and she melted into him.

  Where she’d shivered before, she was now heat. He knew he had to stop this. All those promises and tomorrows he’d fought so hard against loomed around him, and for the first time he wondered if he’d even get a chance at them. She leaned into him, alive and vibrant. The robe parted, and he knew he was lost.

  He lifted his head, gazing down at her, taking in every detail of her face.

  “What?” Faith whispered, looking hard into his face. Dark emotions clouded his eyes. His lips thinned as he stared at her.

  “When I saw you in the window . . . falling down that hill . . . Now this business with Delta.” He swallowed hard, and she watched the muscles of his throat work. “I . . . just . . . damn, I’m not good with words.” His brow puckered with a deeper frown.

  Faith reached up and pressed her palm to his cheek. His day’s growth of beard rubbed against her skin. She smiled, enjoying the feel of it, of him. For several long, silent seconds she met his gaze, nearly falling into his beautiful eyes.

  “Then show me.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “Show me,” she whispered.

  Cord’s lips held an urgency she’d neve
r felt before. His arms tightened, and she slipped hers around his neck.

  All the fear she’d lived through with Delta and then the fall bubbled to the surface. She tightened her arms, pulling him closer, but not close enough. Never close enough.

  “Damn, I want you,” Cord growled across her lips, lifting his head just enough to move them across her cheek. As he kissed a trail down her neck, she trembled so hard that she was sure she’d fall. Only his strong arms held her up.

  His hands moved. Up and then back down over her ribs. His long fingers curled around her waist. At the edge of the robe, he reached in. The rough calluses of his fingertips scraped across her belly. She moaned, letting her head fall back.

  “That’s it, honey.” His voice caressed her. His lips captured hers before she had time to react to his words. For someone who had trouble speaking his feelings, he sure managed to get his message across.

  Faith felt her entire body smile. Her lips were too busy tasting his. She leaned against him, letting him feel how he affected her. She relished his reaction, the way his body hardened in response.

  Time shattered and melted away. Nothing existed outside of him, outside of this embrace. Her breath came hard, and with each intake of air, her breasts rubbed against him. It almost hurt to touch him like this, through layers of clothing.

  “I need you.” Faith reached for the buttons on his shirt, pulling and tugging until they came open. The warmth of his skin against her hands soothed her. So solid and strong.

  As if reading her mind, Cord leaned closer, whispering in her ear. “I need to touch you. Feel you around me.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but pulled the robe all the way open and off her shoulders. She shivered, not from cold, but with anticipation of his touch.

  Skin to skin, the passion erupted. He lifted her and carried her to the bed, where he ripped back the covers. Gone was the patience, the little steps to discovery of the other night.

  His eyes roamed a path over her skin. She felt his gaze and her body’s reaction. “Cord,” she breathed his name, letting it fill the room.