Love Worth Finding

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Nathan stayed quiet for a long while. Finally, he said, “That was part of it, but not all of it. You asked God to have her let go of you. I don’t hear you asking God to have you let go of her.”

  “I don’t want to play this game.”

  “It’s not a game. You decide. Van and I felt called, but we can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. The offer’s there. You decide.”

  Brandon wouldn’t look down at the layout. He refused to.

  Nathan quoted a line the SEALs used during training. “Sweat today or bleed tomorrow.”

  Ouch. That hit home like nothing else would. Brandon stared down at the paper. A decision like this ought to be made with a lot of forethought. Corner lots had bigger yards. Inside streets were quieter. In the past, when things were still good between him and Della, he’d secretly decided on just which place would be theirs. Fist tight, he passed it over the layout and fully intended to rap his knuckles on that segment, only his hand wouldn’t go there. Instead, it veered to one side, and before he could figure out what he was doing, he’d decisively tapped a completely different lot.

  “Number seventy-four.” Nathan’s voice sounded strained.

  Brandon lifted his hand. “Don’t say it.”

  “I have to. That’s the one. It’s the one Van and I consecrated last night to the Lord’s will.”

  “Don’t mess with my mind,” Brandon rasped.

  “I’m not. Here. Open this.” Nathan took a small slip of paper from his pocket. “Van wrote a number on it.”

  Brandon’s fingers shook as he unfolded it. There, in black and white was the number 74. “I’m not doing a second fleece. This is it.” Brandon whooped. “She’s mine!”

  ❧

  Things fell apart fast. After the second night, half of the hikers decided they’d had enough adventure. Cold and weary, sore-muscled and blister-footed, they couldn’t imagine continuing into the rougher territory. The other guide led them back as Chet continued on with the rest of the group. Refusing to give up, Della stuck with those who would continue on.

  “Babies,” Chet muttered as they set out. “Soft. Why sign up for this if you want all the comforts of home? It’s supposed to be something different.”

  “It’s certainly been a challenge,” Della said.

  “Yeah. It’s supposed to be.” Chet looked pleased.

  Della wasn’t sure how he’d taken that as a compliment, but it didn’t much matter. It wouldn’t hurt for him to hear something nice after all of the complaints and criticism he’d heard over breakfast.

  By late afternoon, Della’s confidence in Chet’s ability hit an all-time low. She felt sure she’d seen this stretch of the trail already today. They’d gone in a complete circle over the last hour. “How about if we look at the map?”

  “Don’t need to.”

  One of the other men stepped up beside her. “Don’t growl at the girl. Seems to me, it was a reasonable request.”

  Della flashed him a smile of thanks.

  “You can just GPS us,” another hiker suggested.

  “Battery went dead,” Chet muttered.

  A quick survey had them all on edge—only two of them had cellular phones, and neither was able to connect. Their batteries were incompatible with Chet’s GPS.

  They all crowded around the map. Brandon hadn’t shown her how to read a map, but he’d taught her to gauge distance and direction. What the others decided made no sense to Della, but she held her tongue. Amongst them, they probably knew far more than she did about navigating.

  “Okay. We’ll need to set a good pace to reach the next site,” Chet announced. “It’ll probably be dark when we get there, but we managed just fine last night in the dark.”

  “We can do it,” Della declared.

  Two hours later, her confidence sank along with the sun. She’d refilled her canteen and followed Brandon’s survival tips, but her feet and calves ached, and her back protested the weight of the backpack. Clouds started to roll in. Dusk turned to near dark, and still, they didn’t stop.

  “It’s up here just a short ways. I know exactly where we are.” Chet’s declaration didn’t inspire her as it did the others. Della stopped for a moment to rest then tagged along at the back of the line. One minute, her footing was solid. The next minute, her boot landed in empty space. The weight of her pack sent her careening over the edge and into darkness.

  Eighteen

  Della groaned. Her leg hurt—not a little ache, but full-on, horrible pain. She couldn’t even see it. About five feet away, a small circle of light let her know where her flashlight landed. She needed that light.

  Gritting her teeth against the pain, she tried to stand. Impossible. Whimpers poured out of her as she worked her way to the flashlight. She stopped moving and caught her breath then yelled, “Hey! Somebody!”

  No one answered.

  Della figured they’d be back soon. In the meantime, she needed the flashlight. Once her hand curled around the plastic, she trained it on her knee to assess the damage.

  Air shivered out of her lungs. Her jeans were shredded, and what she could see of her leg scared her. She laid back and talked to herself. “Stay calm. They’ll come back. At least no bones are poking out. That’s good.”

  Good? That opinion didn’t last long. Within minutes, Della was cold. She shed her backpack and looked around. She couldn’t have been unconscious for very long. Her party would be back for her in a few minutes, once they realized she was missing.

  In the meantime, she needed to take care of herself. She had nothing to wrap her knee except her bandana. It would suffice for now. Surely, Chet carried an Ace bandage. Gritting her teeth, she poured water over the scraped mess and bound her knee as best she could. “Hey guys! I’m stuck over here. I could use some help.”

  Her voice shook with cold and pain. Tugging on her backpack, she shifted it so she could pull out a hooded sweat shirt.

  One thing at a time. Think ahead. Plan. Brandon’s words kept streaming through her mind. They kept her from panicking. Della couldn’t find the whistle she’d brought along. Brandon made everyone in their party wear a lanyard with a whistle in case they got lost. Just pucker up your lips and give me a whistle. I’ll come running, Babe.

  “Oh, Brandon. Why can’t you come get me now?” She raised her voice, “I’m hurt, guys. C’mon and find me, will you?”

  Only she heard no one.

  The place she’d landed had plenty of sticks and branches—but that was about as stupid of a place as possible for her to stay. She wouldn’t be spotted, and the danger of snakes. . .she cut off that line of thought. Della searched her surroundings and decided on where to go.

  Hug a tree. You get lost; you hug a tree. People wander all over and can’t be found because they don’t stay put.

  A tree about eight feet away looked like a good spot. She scrabbled toward it one painful inch at a time. About a yard from her goal, she felt something hit her hand. Then her face.

  Rain.

  Sobbing, Della pulled herself the last few feet and slumped against the tree. “Why, God? What did I do that’s so bad? Why are You punishing me?”

  ❧

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. Daylight. Surely they’d come looking and find her. They couldn’t be far away. Della groaned as she unwound the extra-large trash bag from around herself. It kept her warm and fairly dry last night—another one of Brandon’s little helpful hints. She popped two aspirin and washed them down with a big gulp of water. How did that commercial go? Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.

  “Me! Oh, me—eeee!” she shouted. “I took the aspirin. I did my part. Now come help me!”

  No one answered.

  After a few hours, Della’s hopes began to flag. At first, she’d thought maybe Chet and the others had a little trouble. Then she thought they couldn’t very well look for her during last night’s rain. But they should have come back by now.

  A galling fact glared at her: Chet couldn’t
punch his way out of a plastic garbage bag. He has no right to run a business when he doesn’t know anything. They’ve left me here. What am I going to do?

  As if she didn’t know what she’d packed, Della emptied her backpack entirely. Taking stock of her supplies now took on a whole new significance. The big bag of Brandon’s favorite beef jerky looked better than anything she’d ever eaten. A container of trail mix, two candy bars, a fruit leather, and a package of gum. Not a promising supply, but adequate for a day or two if she paced herself.

  Water, though. A slosh let her know her canteen stood about half-full. She’d need more water—soon. By midday, thirst and the understanding that no one was searching for her forced Della to decide to find a water source. Using a stick as a cane, she jump-hopped her way around. Each move sent spears of agony through her.

  She lost track of time. Lost track of where she was. Cried. Finally, Della found a creek. She sat down in the water and let the coolness surround her swollen knee. After drinking the last sip from her canteen, she refilled it. Then she wondered if she ought to skip using the purification tablets. One man said yes; the other said no. Who do I trust?

  She added the tablets.

  At first, getting wet felt good. Clean. Bracing and refreshing and helped lessen the pain. But then reality sank in. Her jeans wouldn’t dry before sunset. She couldn’t light a fire to signal for help or to use for heat. Though she had a lighter, she couldn’t collect enough wood to do the job and still set up a safe fire ring. The last thing she wanted to do was start a forest fire and be its first fatality.

  “Water. Warmth. Food.” She kept chanting the priorities. Della wished she’d been carrying a tent now. Her sleeping bag and garbage bag would have to suffice. Gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, she studied her surroundings. She needed a big, solid, friendly-looking tree. Then she’d get there, change her clothes, and wait.

  Someone would search for her. Brandon would.

  Only she’d told him to leave her alone.

  ❧

  “He left her alone up there?” Brandon’s bellow nearly shook the construction trailer.

  “Yes,” Della’s father answered in an anguished tone. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Listen. We told you to leave her be, but I’m asking—”

  “I’m going after her.”

  “Good.”

  Having been in the military set habits that he’d not broken yet. Brandon always kept a pack ready so he could roll out the minute he got a call. His pack sat at the ready in the bottom of his closet at home. As he went to claim it, he dialed Lurch. If the guys were on maneuvers, that was that—but if they were home, Brandon couldn’t come up with a better team of men to help him get his woman.

  Lurch’s phone kept ringing. No help from that quarter.

  Soon as he hung up, Nathan called. “I’m coming along. Jim Martinez, too.”

  “I’m heading out now.”

  “Pick me up at Jim’s.”

  “No way. I’m not wasting a minute.”

  “We’re on the way, Brandon.”

  “Be out front. If you’re not, I won’t stop.”

  Nathan and Jim stood on the curb. Katie and Van were there, too, with a crate and a duffel bag of junk. Brandon itched to gun the engine, and the women were gabbing about food and clothes and stupid inconsequentials.

  “Later,” he rumbled. “She’s been out there alone for two nights already. We can’t waste time.”

  “God go with you!” Van called.

  Brandon pulled out into traffic and growled, “The guys are out on maneuvers. We’re on short team.”

  Nathan grinned at him like a madman. “Did I ever tell you about a guy named Gideon?”

  “Yeah. Him and the fleece.”

  “There’s another story about him. He had a big army, but God only let him take the warriors who drank from their hands instead of burying their face in the water.”

  “Let me guess. His side still won.”

  “God always wins.” Nathan smacked the dashboard. “You can count on that.”

  ❧

  “Let’s see. . .” Della spoke aloud to herself all of the time now. She didn’t care if it was odd. It gave her a little comfort. “What next?”

  She’d calculated things as best she could. Chet would have spent time searching for her, but because of the rain, he wouldn’t have much luck with tracks. Sad truth was, even if it hadn’t rained, Della seriously doubted he would have been able to trace her footprints back to where she’d fallen, let alone to where she’d wandered from there to the creek. After a nominal effort, Chet would give up then head back with the others. Even at a full run, that meant they’d still have a day and a half to hike out; then help would take another day or two to come here. From that point, they’d have to look all over the forest to find her. Five days. Yes, five. That sounded about right.

  But the pain in her knee said she couldn’t wait for help that long.

  Della counted out how many aspirin she had and rationed them to last five days. She did the same with her food. By dumping the trail mix into the pocket of her sweat shirt, she was able to use that pint-sized container to hold more water.

  She’d hacked off her blue jeans and cut off the leg at thigh-level of the other pair before she pulled them on. Every move sent shards of pain through her.

  Don’t tense. Don’t fight the pain. Let it be there. Brandon’s words to her as he’d rubbed out a nasty charley horse she’d gotten during a morning beach run echoed in her mind. Blow like you’re blowing away the pain.

  She’d practically hyperventilated when she changed her clothes, but she got it done. Brandon was right—it worked. Sort of. Not that all the pain disappeared, but she’d coped.

  He was right about the tent stakes and gauging distance and. . . She stopped cold. “What if he’s right about God?”

  “No. It’s not like that,” she answered herself. “I’m going to stay busy. I don’t have to think about God and Jesus and all that religion stuff.”

  Lying on the hip pad with her head pillowed on a wadded up sleeping bag nearly drove her crazy. Thoughts of Brandon swirled around in her head. “I’m thinking of him because I’m in the wilderness. It’s just mental association. What I need to do is stay busy.” She sat up and pulled over her backpack. With all the supplies she stuffed in there, she could rig up some kind of a tent between the two shrubs with her garbage bag.

  ❧

  The others started to turn in for the night. They’d put in half of yesterday and all of today searching for Della, but to no avail. Chet couldn’t be specific about where he’d led his party that last night, let alone where he’d lost Della. Thick vegetation made it impossible for helicopters to give much assistance. Thermal imaging should help, but to Brandon’s frustration, it hadn’t yielded anything useful. Search dogs hadn’t picked up her scent either.

  “Rest up. We’ll start first thing in the morning,” Nathan urged.

  Brandon shook his head then dug through his gear and pulled out night vision goggles. “I’m heading out north by northwest.”

  “Alone?” Jim gawked at him. “We don’t need another—”

  Brandon’s glower silenced him. He bent, snagged his pack, and shrugged into it. “Grab me more water, will you?”

  Jim trotted off, and Nathan offered, “I’ll come with you.”

  “No can do. My NVGs will keep me from breaking my neck. Thanks, but no thanks.” He accepted the bottles Jim brought back, stuffed two into the pockets of his pack, and glugged down the third. He shoved the empty bottle back into Nathan’s hand. “Wanna know something weird? I was just reading about the shepherd leaving the flock to search for that one lost lamb.”

  His boss grinned. “And we all know He succeeds. God go with you.”

  Brandon set off at a steady pace and yanked on the NVGs. The band pulled at his hair—something it never did when he sported a near buzz cut. The greenish glow from the lenses felt good. Familiar. He was on a mission, and this o
ne—it had to be successful.

  ’Round about midnight, Brandon came upon a spot that showed excessive trampling. His pulse rose. The fire ring and divots in the ground showed a group camped here overnight very recently. At least now the search field could be focused. According to his GPS, they were miles off course—a massive distance in this terrain.

  “What would you do, Della?” he muttered as he unfolded a detailed satellite map of the area and flipped up the NVGs. The green tint on this map made it difficult to read. Training his flashlight on it, he looked for a water source. If she followed all of his teaching, she would have hugged a tree, but thirst would drive her toward water after a day.

  There. A small stream. It meandered off toward the east. He would locate it then search the full length along both sides. After taking a fix on his location, he set out. It didn’t take long before he heard the subtle trickling of water flow. Pine and fir trees blocked any distance vision.

  Ten thousand feet altitude. The temperature dipped to the low 40s. Brandon hoped Della brought the sleeping bag he’d selected for her instead of renting one of the cheap jobs Chet used. She had to be hungry. Hypothermia was all she needed. Poor woman had to be scared out of her mind.

  God, lead me to her. Help me find her. Let her be okay.

  Brandon tamped down his fears. That fleece thing—that meant he and Della had a future together. She’d make it through this. Once he got her out of here, though, he’d never let go of her.

  Methodically using trees as points of reference, Brandon searched both sides of the creek. No human footprints joined those of raccoons, mule deer, and coyotes. No signs of human habitation—no footprints or drag-and-scrap lines showed anyone had been here. Brandon knew he might miss signs that would stand out in daylight—a scrap of cloth, a food wrapper. I have to have faith. God will lead me.

  Coyotes howled. Crickets sang. Water bubbled. Wind soughed. He strained to detect anything out of the ordinary. By now, even if she’d rationed use of the flashlight, her batteries would be toast. Della, huddled alone in the dark—cold, hungry, and scared. The thought made him sick. He forged on.