Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3)

by Jennifer Bramseth

  She hastened after him.

  “I thought I already did that. I told you I loved you. Selena never did that, did she?”

  “No, she didn’t,” Drake said, stopping at the door with his hand on the knob. “And now, looking back, I have to wonder whether I was really even close to falling in love with her. Now that I know what that’s really like.”

  Instead of the expected kiss, he flung the door back and shut it behind him, leaving her stunned and alone in the foyer. She opened it, thinking to call after him, but words failed her and he drove away. Left alone on the porch, it took her several seconds before she realized how damn cold it was, and she closed the door once Drake’s Jeep was out of sight.

  In no mood to do anything, she trod back to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, her mind a whirl of thoughts. In that maelstrom, Drake’s words came back to her about getting out on the water to clear his mind.

  Despite the coldness of the day, Cara knew that’s where she wanted to be as well.

  On the water.

  With Drake.

  Before she could change her mind, she pushed off the couch, hurried to her room, and slipped into the dry suit and gear Drake had bought her. Then she poked her head in Nate’s room where she found her mother putting away some clean laundry.

  But no Nate.

  24

  “Drake’s gone?” her mother asked as Cara’s eyes scanned the room.

  “He left just now. Where’s Nate?”

  Vera continued to fold the laundry on top of Nate’s bed.

  “I thought he was with you.”

  “But I thought you were keeping him in here.”

  “Once he knew Drake was here, it was hard to keep him away. He said he had to go tell you two something.”

  “He didn’t.”

  Their eyes locked in mutual fear.

  Cara and Vera swept from the room, calling out Nate’s name but got no response. Within seconds, Cara was in full panic mode. As she stood where Drake had proposed to her again, she remembered how he thought he’d seen something during their tense conversation that had made him stop.

  “No…”

  She ran to the front door, flung it open, and bolted outside into the cold, screaming Nate’s name.

  Her mother was soon outside doing the same and caught up with Cara at the sidewalk.

  “But why do you think he’d be out here?”

  “The boy loves to run on me! Maybe now he’s advanced to sneaking out!”

  Cara trotted along the driveway, following the still-fresh tracks Drake’s Jeep had left on the concrete. Near Drake’s footprints in the snow were smaller prints, faint but detectable.

  “He’s with Drake.”

  “How can you be sure?” Vera asked.

  “He wanted to go to the creek, and I spotted his footprints on the driveway.”

  She ran back into the house to the kitchen, remembering her phone was on the counter. With trembling hands, she tapped Drake’s number.

  Nothing. It went to voice mail. She didn’t want to think he was ignoring her—she didn’t think he had time to get to the creek and get out on the water—but she also knew that Drake was very conscientious when it came to his phone and not using it while driving. He’d had a client once get convicted of homicide for texting while driving, and the case had made a lasting impression.

  But if he was already on the water, he probably wouldn’t answer it. Even though he carried it with him in case of emergencies, he couldn’t easily check it while kayaking.

  After sending him a quick text (I think Nate is in your Jeep!—on my way to preserve—pls call!), Cara announced her departure.

  “I’ve got to go out there.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Vera insisted.

  “No! Call the sheriff! Tell him what’s going on! And stay here and keep looking just in case I’m wrong!”

  Once on the road, she gave a fleeting thought to calling Drake again but ruled it out, fearing loss of time. Hopefully, if Drake did have a little stowaway, Nate could not keep his presence a secret for very long and he would be discovered.

  But what if he did keep quiet?

  What if he snuck away from that Jeep and toward the creek?

  And what was Nate wearing? Did he even have a coat? Did he have shoes?

  Every parental instinct and fear kicked in. Cara knew her boy wasn’t playing outside or inside, keeping his mommy and grandma wondering about him while he laughed out of sight. That boy was going straight to the water. Again.

  She sped to the nature preserve, disregarding most traffic laws until she got there in mere minutes. The high plateau above the confluence was cold, windy, and empty—except for that lone Jeep in the parking lot.

  Cara parked right behind Drake’s vehicle and could tell once he wasn’t around; one kayak was already gone from the top of the Jeep. After checking the interior and seeing nothing but his usual collection of gear, she turned to face the creeks.

  Drake was at the water. Perhaps with Nate nearby.

  She hastened down the embankment, toward the spot beyond the confluence where she knew Drake liked to put in. She saw him standing there, slipping out of one dry suit as he looked at another on the ground. Her shouts commanded his attention, and he left his equipment to meet her halfway.

  “Why are you in your dry suit? What’s the—”

  “Have you seen him?” she cried as Drake grasped her arms.

  “Who?”

  “Nate. We can’t find him! We missed him shortly after you left the house. Didn’t you get my message?”

  “No. My phone’s dead.”

  He asked whether she’d checked the Jeep, which she confirmed she’d done. He frowned.

  “I hate to say it, but I think he was in the back, Cara. When I was driving out here, I thought I heard something odd, like a little laugh. But I didn’t check it out. Thought it was my imagination or the Jeep making a funny noise.”

  “Oh, God… he’s out here… no coat… the water…” She nearly collapsed.

  He shook her until Cara was forced to look at his face. “We’ll find him.”

  Drake grabbed Cara’s hand and pulled her toward the water, into a search that was an eerie, frigid reflection of what had occurred in the summer along those same banks.

  They called Nate’s name to no avail until Drake suggested they break up to cover more ground. They headed in opposite directions, with Drake heading north and she south along Old Crow Creek.

  “Tell me again what he was wearing,” Drake asked after they had been apart for a few yards.

  “Red sweater,” she said, happy at that moment for the fit her son had thrown that morning. He’d refused to wear the black sweater she’d chosen, insisting on red since it was more like Christmas.

  As she ran along the bank, movement above her in the parking lot caught her eye. There was Kyle Sammons, scurrying to her.

  “Are you sure he’s here?” the sheriff asked.

  “As sure as he’s anywhere.”

  She repeated Drake’s information about what he’d heard in his Jeep as well as her glimpses of footprints in the snow back at her house.

  “EMTs are on their way here, and I’ve got a deputy looking around your neighborhood,” he explained.

  That was the moment she lost it. The mental images of Nate wandering lost in their own neighborhood, along with the visions of him falling into the water overwhelmed her, and Cara broke down in tears. Kyle caught her in his arms and, holding his one injured wrist gingerly to the side, tried to comfort her.

  “We need to move, Cara. No time for tears.”

  She nodded, and the two of them headed south toward the confluence. Kyle asked her a few questions, but she stopped perforce as she heard a faint yet distinct call upon the wind. Cara faced north and stood still for several seconds before she heard it again. The sound she’d know anywhere.

  The cry of her own child.

  She ran from Kyle, ignoring his pleas to stop.
Nothing was going to prevent her—not fear, not the cold day, not the law—from going to her boy.

  Within the next minute, she came upon them.

  Because Nate wasn’t alone.

  Nate had wandered out onto a log, which nearly spanned the stream. Drake likewise was on the log, coaxing the boy toward him. But Nate was petrified, shaking his head and crying, not wanting to move from his spot.

  Cara caught her son’s eye and waved to him as she headed down the bank toward the water.

  “Stay where you are!” Drake exhorted. “The log isn’t stable and this water’s deep!”

  Swallowing the terror, Cara fixed her eyes and thoughts on Nate.

  “Nate, go to Drake!”

  The child wailed, and Cara motioned for him to move. He wouldn’t.

  Drake acted.

  He inched toward the child and reached for him. Nate wouldn’t take his hand, so Drake had to bend and grab the boy around the waist, then whisk him into his arms, Nate crying the entire time.

  Drake edged back along the log, his eyes fixed downward on the old trunk as he took slow, small steps along its slimy surface.

  Then he slipped and Cara screamed.

  Drake hit the water yet held Nate above the surface like he had that summer’s day, his outdoorsman’s instincts kicking in at the crucial moment.

  At that point along the creek, debris clogged the banks and there was no easy way to move to dry land. Cara crept out onto a cluster of branches and waste, the pile moaning, creaking, and cracking under her weight.

  Behind her, Kyle kept yelling at her to stop.

  “You’re too heavy to do this! And your wrist!” she shouted over her shoulder.

  She lay prone upon the pile, and Drake, his face painted with pain and determination, handed her the squirming bundle as Cara could feel the branches crumpling under her.

  When Drake released Nate to his mother, the large log where Nate had been stranded cracked in the middle. The swift waters of the creek whisked it away as easily as a twig.

  The current altered, and Drake was rapidly sucked into the stream in the log’s wake. His head was pulled briefly beneath the surface as he flailed and then disappeared into the creek.

  Cara scrambled backward as best she could with Nate tucked against her. Kyle grabbed her arm and dragged her from the debris pile and the increasing danger.

  She fell onto the ground with Nate atop her.

  Nate was safe.

  The knowledge flooded her mind with relief but only for a second. Because Drake was out there in that icy water.

  Dying.

  She looked down and remembered what she was wearing. Her dry suit.

  There was no one else there to do this—not an injured Kyle, not some EMTs who’d take another ten minutes to get to the scene.

  She turned, gave Nate a kiss, and ran.

  With Kyle’s warnings echoing behind her, she ran along the banks of Old Crow Creek, peeking through spindly trees and crying Drake’s name. Tears stung her face, and she could feel time simultaneously running out yet standing still.

  What was their last argument about? Something about waiting, not yet, give it more time?

  Now there was no more time. She might never see him alive again.

  The trees thinned, and the sun broke through a gap in the clouds. A dark shadow passed over her in a sweeping motion, and her ears picked up the sharp cry of a crow.

  Looking up, she spied the bird and then returned her eyes to the ground. She followed the bird’s form across the stream and over the remnants of the old bridge at that deep and dangerous point in the creek.

  And there was Drake.

  He was clinging to splintered piece of wood from the old bridge, submerged up to his shoulders, the water swirling around him.

  How long had he been in that frigid water? How much more could he endure if he lost his grip and…

  She called to him, but Drake barely raised his head. Once he saw her, he shook his head in warning.

  She had two choices to make the rescue.

  Climb out along that old bridge or get in the water.

  Even though she was in her dry suit and gear, it wouldn’t be enough to keep her safe from being in the water very long under the circumstances.

  So the bridge it was.

  “Cara… no… go back…,” she heard him call weakly over the coursing water.

  Ignoring him, she proceeded, the wood creaking beneath her feet with every step. Below were the large boulders. If she should slip, there was nothing but hard rock and frigid water to catch her fall.

  From somewhere nearby she heard Kyle’s voice and silently cursed, hoping he hadn’t brought Nate to the water. Fighting the instinct to turn back to safety and her son, she continued.

  She reached the end of the bridge. The planks were broken and scattered in a jumbled heap against the boulders. As she had when she’d scooped Nate away from the water, Cara slowly and carefully moved out onto the tangle of broken boards, rock, and a few steel beams.

  It was slippery and sharp, impenetrable yet unsteady as she descended to Drake. He’d stopped trying to talk to her—his admonitions to go back had ceased—and she knew there wasn’t a second to spare.

  As wood and metal met water, she had to get down on her belly to crawl to him. She was now chilled to the core, her hands nearly numb. Drake looked absolutely gray, almost unrecognizable.

  Cara held out her right hand.

  “Give me one of your hands,” she ordered.

  “I can’t… I can’t… get safe…”

  His eyes shut as his grip on the log slipped, his fingers clawing at the wood. The water crept up his body as it began to consume him.

  “Give me your hand! You can do this!”

  “Cara…”

  She slid farther down the rubbish to grab one of his arms, then the other. She had prevented him from completely going under, but he was still in the water and without any strength to cling to her.

  Pulling with all her might, Cara labored to wrench Drake to safety. Yet as she moved, the wood, branches, and other debris beneath her gradually shifted until she was at a precarious angle to the water.

  And then it all collapsed in a shuddering, slow-motion avalanche.

  Having a few seconds to anticipate being tipped into icy water, Cara managed to keep her head above the water and hands on Drake’s arms.

  Trembling uncontrollably, Cara shifted Drake onto her back, holding his arms around her neck. Her feet barely touched the bottom of the creek. If they got swept into the current into the middle of the stream, the water would be too deep and motion too great to fight, along with the cold.

  But her eyes landed on a clear spot on the bank, and there she saw Kyle holding Nate, both of them yelling and waving. With those two as her polestar, she reached behind her to grab Drake’s legs to hoist him farther up her back.

  And she moved, somehow, through that barren coldness and closer to the bank until she could reach out and grab some of the other fallen branches and tree trunks. It was enough to anchor her, to give her hope that they could make it. She could barely feel her legs although her chest throbbed with such an ache she thought it would explode.

  At last she fell upon the muddy bank. Drake landed on top of her, then limply rolled away. She struggled to push herself up on hands and knees, coughing and wheezing, shivering and ready to retch.

  With his good hand, Kyle dragged Drake away from the water’s edge. Not to be outdone, Nate took Drake’s other hand and joined the sheriff’s efforts.

  Dripping wet and shuddering in the cold, Cara struggled to her feet. Gently nudging aside Nate, she clasped Drake’s hand and with Kyle, pulled him up the bank on his back away from the water.

  “Is he okay?” Nate asked, throwing his arms around his mother as she collapsed at Drake’s side.

  “God, let him be, please…,” Cara said.

  Kyle bent down, holding Drake’s head between his hands. “Talk to me, Drake,” he com
manded.

  There was no audible response although Drake was shivering.

  Kyle took off his jacket and draped it over Drake’s chest as he spoke to him. Drake’s eyes remained shut, and he gave no response.

  As the sheriff began to bark instructions into his radio, Cara draped herself across Drake to warm him, her head nestled against his neck.

  “Come back to me… come back to us…,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I love you, I’m sorry…”

  Sobs consumed her, rattling her body. She felt her little boy’s arm fall across her back, warming her. She knew it was his attempt to console his mommy.

  “Marry me, Drake,” she pleaded. “Come back to me. Marry me… today, tomorrow, as soon as you want… marry me…”

  His breathing changed, and Cara lifted her head to look at his bloodless face. She heard him grunt as though he were awakening.

  “Can’t… can’t…,” he groaned, eyes still closed.

  She grabbed his shoulders.

  “Yes, yes! You can! Stay with me!”

  He licked his lips and swallowed. His eyes finally opened.

  “Can’t do that… can’t… marry…”

  “What?”

  Was he saying that he no longer wanted to marry her? That he didn’t want to be with her?

  She openly wept as her head fell against his shoulder again.

  “We… can’t… today,” he said, then took a deep breath.

  Her head snapped up.

  Today? Why did he say today? Did he mean…

  His head turned, and his eyes opened a little wider. Blue eyes sparkled against the pallor.

  “What?”

  His weak smile made her heart sing. Drake took a few more breaths and answered.

  “Clerk’s office… isn’t open on weekends… no license… we’ll… we’ll have to wait at least until tomorrow.” Mouth open, all she could do was stare at him. “Aren’t… you going to… kiss me? I said yes,” he croaked as he tried to laugh. “Or… did you say yes to me at last?”

  Cara clutched his face and brought his pale lips to hers, kissing him and feeling the iciness of his cheeks against hers.

  “Cara!” she heard Kyle screaming. “Why are you giving him CPR?”