Always Look Twice

by Elizabeth Goddard

  Emily gently turned Harper and pointed. “Look.”

  Harper was afraid to look. She was afraid to hope. Finally, she glanced to the opening as Heath climbed out. Clanking and crumbling resounded as a plume of dust rose from what had been the stairwell. There must have been enough material left that Heath had been able to climb out. The building wasn’t done collapsing though.

  “Back. Everyone stand back!” Firefighters pushed Emily and Harper away from the building. Screams resounded.

  Harper didn’t want to leave Heath again. She turned to run toward the building. A cloud of dust rose to the sky like a miniature mushroom cloud.

  A man caught her up in his arms and carried her away.

  Heath!

  Once they stood at a safe distance, Harper spotted her sister and James. Everyone except her uncle was out now—and safe, though maybe not sound.

  She leaned into Heath. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  He hugged her long and hard. She never wanted to let go. “I’m so sorry, Harper.”

  But she did let go so she could face him. “What are you talking about? What are you sorry for?”

  His eyes glistened with pain. “I did this. Every time I try to fix things, I make them worse. I thought things could be different, but I see now that nothing has changed. I brought you here so we could get away from what had happened. But I brought you right into the thick of it. You almost died.”

  Oh, Heath. “You have it all wrong, Heath. First, you got me those tickets to see Emily—that meant everything to me. You listened to my heart. You knew what I wanted. It was . . . so romantic, even though I’m not sure you meant it that way.” Harper seriously wanted to kiss the guy, but she had to finish so he would understand. Harper knew his insecurities all went back to his mother—if he hadn’t begged her to come back, she wouldn’t have died in the fire. Or so Heath believed.

  “You brought me to the right place at the right time,” she said. “I was able to help Emily. To save her life and get her out. I wasn’t the only survivor. And something else. I was able to talk to my uncle and hear his last words. He was a sick man. Sick in the head and sick in his body. And then you came for me—you risked your life and came in search of me . . .” Tears choked her next words. “I told myself I was too broken to love. People die and leave loved ones behind to suffer with the loss. All I could think about when I thought I would die in that bomb was how much I wanted a chance with you, Heath McKade.”

  He lifted her face. Dirt and grime smudged his skin. She doubted she looked any different. Bright blue eyes stared out from behind his dirt-covered face.

  “What are you saying, Harper?”

  She couldn’t answer him. Why had she said any of it?

  He peered into her eyes like he would comb through her mind and heart until he found the answer.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I know you’re still afraid. I was wary too. But I’m not anymore. I’m done holding back. Harper, I don’t want to scare you off before we’ve even had a chance, but I could love you, if I don’t already. We can take it slow though—that is, if you want to take that chance with me.”

  She didn’t want her decision, her words, to be the result of the traumatic series of events that had brought them together. But as he said, they could take their time.

  “I already told you I want that chance, Heath, but how can we explore this? You live in Grayback. I live in Missouri.”

  “For now.” He eased her chin up and planted his lips against hers, gently, but with the promise of so much more. She had no physical or emotional energy left to fight what had grown between them, and that was probably a good thing.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

  Few places in this world are more dangerous than home. Fear not, therefore, to try the mountain passes. They will kill care, save you from deadly apathy, set you free, and call forth every faculty into vigorous, enthusiastic action.

  John Muir

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  EMERALD M GUEST RANCH

  Heath took in the newly finished cabin that replaced the one Jerry had bombed. Heath had lost too much time already to this bombing business. He was more than ready to move on with the next chapter of his life. Thank goodness guests were scheduled to start arriving again next week, though the season would soon be over.

  Leroy stood next to him, using a cane to support his injured leg. “It’s going to take time, Heath, but you’ll get back into the swing of things.”

  If a year hadn’t been enough for him to get over the pain of his gunshot wound, even psychologically, he had no idea how long recovering from the trauma of recent events was going to take. Maybe a lifetime. But Leroy was referring to the guest ranch business.

  Not Heath personally.

  Leroy had suffered much more. He’d finally recovered enough to join Heath back at the Emerald M a few days ago.

  Heath clapped him on the shoulder, but not too hard. “I’m glad to have you back.”

  “But you’re going to need someone to replace me. I can’t do for you what I did before.”

  “I’m not going to replace you, Leroy. You’re family now. You and Evelyn. Don’t ever forget that. I’ll pick up the slack. Liam’s here too. He can help with the horses. He’s gifted with them.”

  Liam was down by the barn in the corral working with Amber, Charlie’s favorite horse. She was making plans to bring Amber down to Texas. Heath looked forward to seeing her soon.

  As he watched Liam, Heath tried to wrap his thoughts around how much had changed over a few weeks’ time. Liam was back, and Harper Reynolds had come back into his life and left again. She was still in Missouri helping her sister sell her house and plan a big wedding. Yep. James had proposed a month ago. Heath figured the near-death experience had expedited the timeline for James and Emily’s relationship. They’d known each other long enough to know, Harper said.

  For his part, Heath struggled to hang on to the hope that he and Harper could spend enough time together that he could propose and she wouldn’t run scared. Granted, they hadn’t known each other that long—as adults—and they’d gone through a lot of turmoil, but Heath wasn’t the kind of man to waste time.

  He knew she was what he wanted.

  The daily texts, nightly phone calls, and weekly video chats would only work so long. It would only take them so far.

  He couldn’t seem to get the chance to convince her that he was the guy she wanted. He hoped, how he hoped, they could make a future together and put all this behind them. That was his heart turning the rational part of his brain to a bowl of soggy breakfast cereal.

  They might have too much baggage with everything that had happened. Harper wasn’t likely to forget. He couldn’t make her forget, but could he help her put it behind her and forge a new life and future?

  That might not be so easily done in Grayback.

  And Heath couldn’t exactly give up his ranch and horses, his lifeblood, his home . . . or could he?

  He hiked back to the main house and clomped up the porch in time to see Lori Somerall driving up in her Navigator. Oh, great. She smiled and waved. She had a passenger too.

  He crossed his arms and waited for her to get out. She’d stopped by a few times. Brought a meal now and then as if she didn’t have her own guest ranch to run. She stayed for the meals too. But this had to end.

  How could he let her down gently?

  Lori got out on her side, and another woman got out from the passenger side.

  Harper.

  Heath stumbled. Caught himself on the post. Harper’s grin stretched across her face, and Lori laughed as she walked with Harper to his porch.

  “She had me watch out for you, Heath. Make sure you and yours were okay. I don’t think she took your word for it.”

  Harper took a step up onto the porch, a question in her eyes. Do you want me here?

  “Come here, you.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. He never wanted to let her go, but he was afraid to hold her too close.<
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  When he released her, she laughed. “Lori can keep a secret. Actually, she was the one who convinced me to come. She said you were pining away for me.”

  He arched a brow. “Pining away?”

  “Her term, not mine. Well? Were you?”

  “I was pining away, yes.” Was that all she wanted from him?

  Lori smiled. “I’m heading out to get ready for my big date with Jud.”

  “Jud?” Heath knew that name.

  “Sheriff Taggart. You know him, right?” She waved and climbed into her vehicle.

  As Lori drove away, Heath pulled Harper close again. How did he keep her here this time?

  “Heath, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. It wasn’t on purpose, I promise.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation. The fact is, I live here. This is my home. I told you we would make it work.”

  “It can only work if I live in Jackson Hole too, Heath. I know you can’t move, and I would never ask you to do that. I had planned to stay before the bomb, but everything got messed up. I’m here now. In fact, I talked to Sheriff Taggart this week. His offer is still on the table if I want it. And . . . I do.”

  Heath wanted to hug her. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I’m sure about us, Heath. I already told him I’m interested, and Lori is letting me stay with her until I can find a place of my own.”

  He drew her close again and pressed his forehead against hers. Tucked her hands in his against his chest. “I missed you, Harper. I love you. I know all I need to know. Marry me.”

  He cringed inside. Had he scared her off?

  Harper lifted her face and kissed him, sending tendrils of warmth through him. “I’ve only known you for more than twenty years, Heath. I thought you’d never ask.”

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a novel requires not only an author but also a team of encouragers and experts, as well as the patience of family and friends.

  My heartfelt gratitude goes to Jeff and Tina Moyers, my brother and sister-in-law, for your encouragement through the years. And as RV campers and dwellers, thank you for offering your expertise and your ideas to make my scenes ring true.

  Richard Mabry, MD—I always appreciate your willingness to assist when I have a medical crisis in a book! You’re always eager to answer my questions and even rewrite scenes if necessary.

  Susan Sleeman—you’re such a treasure. A gem. A wealth of information. And you have so much patience with my many lengthy emails. You’ve been such a great friend to me personally, and to my writing career as a whole. I can’t thank you enough for being quick to answer my questions about technical issues, police procedures, or scenes in general.

  Retired Undersheriff Roger Harrison—for answering my many questions about police and crime scene procedures in rural areas. I appreciate your patience with my “crazy imagination,” as you put it!

  Wesley Harris (http://writecrimeright.blogspot.com)—for your input about every aspect of police procedures and crime scenes.

  Judy Melinek, MD, forensic pathologist—for the time you took to detail what happens to a body when a bullet of a certain caliber enters. It’s important to know what characters will truly see when someone is shot—as opposed to what television and movies might show us.

  Martin Roy Hill—once again, you’ve come to the rescue! Sure, a person can learn how to make a bomb on the internet, but it’s much more complicated than I could ever understand. Thank you for setting me on the right path.

  Crime scene writers’ group—to the many technical voices within the crime scene writers’ group for always stepping up to answer my countless questions.

  Tari Faris and Susan May Warren (Novel Academy)—for setting me straight on my characters and helping me understand the numerous layers of their dark-moment stories!

  Sharon Hinck—there are no adequate words to describe how much your help has meant to me. You have such a deep love for the Lord and encourage my heart so much. Your eye for great writing and storytelling is exceptional. Thank you for taking the time to read my story, for not being afraid to tell me when I missed the mark and where the story didn’t work for you, and for offering suggestions in countless brainstorming emails.

  Lynne Gentry—for your insights into the characters’ motivation. You have an eye for details no one else catches.

  Lisa Harris—what a journey this has been! I don’t know what I would have done on this writing road without your encouragement.

  Proofreader (and my amazing daughter) Rachel Goddard—for reading the manuscript for inconsistencies, weird sentence structures, and plot holes. I loved reading your comments that made me laugh so hard (freaky Leroy)! You have such a great sense of humor, which made working through your critique so much more fun. I love you!

  Ellen Tarver—once again, you’ve helped me strengthen the story and showed me where you weren’t “buying it”! Your expertise has been invaluable.

  The Revell team—Lonnie Hull DuPont, once again, thank you for believing in me. Amy Ballor, your patience with me and attention to details are exceptional. Karen Steele—you make my books sound so good. To the art department—thank you for the effort you put into the cover and interior designs. I love how you seem to get into an author’s head and know exactly the “look” that will convey the story best.

  My agent, Steve Laube—I’m so glad you saw something in me eight years ago when you signed me. It has been an amazing ride!

  My husband and children—Dan, I couldn’t have seen my dreams come true without your continued encouragement and patience with me as I traveled to conferences every year and wrote books instead of earning a decent income at a regular job. I love you! Rachel, Christopher, Jonathan, and Andrew—thank you for inspiring this crazy writing momma!

  Jesus—it’s all about YOU.

  Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves,

  for the rights of all who are destitute.

  Speak up and judge fairly;

  defend the rights of the poor and needy.

  Proverbs 31:8–9 NIV

  PROLOGUE

  Where there is much light, the shadows are deepest.

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  ROCKY MOUNTAINS

  NORTHWEST WYOMING

  Had we never met, you and I, then you never would have loved me. I never would have returned your love.

  And now look at us. I’ve caused you trouble. Brought you pain. All I wanted to do was protect you. Please forgive me.

  Please know that I love you.

  Loved you.

  Her identification stripped from her, she signed her full name and added her address for good measure. She tucked the note into her jeans, her last words—if it came to that—meant to give him closure.

  Her abductor thought that by hiding her here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by this frozen world, she would be trapped.

  For the average person, that was true.

  With no television or internet or communication, she couldn’t cause more trouble. In this rustic getaway cabin meant for the privileged, she’d been left with only what was required to sustain her life until he arrived. He knew from experience her capabilities and vowed he wouldn’t underestimate her again.

  But all the same, he’d miscalculated.

  Glancing through the small window, she took in the deep snow surrounding her and made her own calculations. He didn’t understand that she would rather face certain death—woman versus nature, as it were—than face him. She wouldn’t come out of that meeting alive, so her chances were better out there on the frozen lake surrounded by millions of acres of pristine snow-blanketed mountain wilderness.

  Considering how the cabin had been richly furnished, she was surprised work from local artists didn’t also grace the walls. Maybe the décor had been removed for her stay. Still, some things remained or had been overlooked. Like the vintage snowshoes used for the wall sconces, and that had given her hope.

  All I need is an ounce.
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  After removing the snowshoes from the wall, she layered old newspapers underneath her clothes for added warmth. Then she grabbed some wool blankets from the closet and the Nordic-style comforter from the bed. Travel would be cumbersome and slow. The longer she could last out there, the better. Nonetheless, she’d probably die from exposure.

  But at least her death would be on her own terms.

  She clenched her jaw. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let him win.

  Blowing out a long breath, she forced the tension from her muscles. Unfortunately, she’d had to wait until the two men who’d been tasked with guarding her had left on the snowmobiles—the only way to get in or out of the winter getaway. That meant darkness would drop on her world within the hour.

  Her watchers had considered her a “no flight risk,” as they called it. After all, without adequate protection, who would trek into the frozen mountain wilderness during the day, much less at night?

  That had been the minions’ first mistake. All she’d needed was one.

  She drew in a quick breath and opened the door. Bitter cold whipped around her, sending snow into the small dwelling and stinging her cheeks.

  Her throat constricted.

  For a moment, she reconsidered her decision. But life had given her no real options. She repositioned the wool blanket to cover her face, all except for her eyes, and pulled the comforter tighter around the other blankets. The layers would keep her warm but slow her down.

  At least the men had shoveled the snow away from the door so they could venture to their snowmobiles to fetch the man behind her abduction. Now she would use the cleared path for her escape, though no snow machine waited to carry her away to safety. She’d have to depend on her own two legs.

  She took a step. Then another. And another. The snowshoes held and, leaving the shoveled path, she hopped on top of the white crust and kept walking. The tears streaming from her eyes could be tears of joy or pure fear, she wasn’t sure.

  The wind pushed against her forward movement as if telling her to go back, whispering certain death in her ear.