Hush, Puppy

by Roxanne St Claire

  “She’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “We were in the middle of Hide ’n’ Bark, and somehow Mav must have run away, and she went after him without telling the counselor.”

  “And no one saw her leave?”

  “No. She wasn’t in her assigned hiding place when they went to get her, and we cannot find her anywhere. Or Mav.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Waterford. “Where was she?”

  “Way up by the northern border of the property, near the Wallaces’ ranch.”

  He didn’t know Waterford that well, not on foot anyway, but he thought he remembered the landscape from flying over. Some open fields, some very rough terrain, lots of dark, scary woods. “How did she get that far?” he asked, tamping down the most unfamiliar sense of helplessness.

  “They took the kids on four-wheelers. We have a dozen people, more, out there looking, but I have to reach Summer and let her know. Do you have any idea where she is? She’s not answering her phone.”

  Because it’s in her bag at Santorini’s, and she was…somewhere draped under Travis Shipley, the most persuasive man alive.

  A whole new wave of unwanted emotions roiled through him, but he forced himself to think of the layout of the Waterford land. He could only visualize that area the way he’d seen it last—from the cockpit of this plane, where he could…spot a squirrel in the backwoods, as Aidan liked to say. “That’s not an easy area to search on foot,” he said.

  “We’re doing our best. She’s only been gone a few minutes, and I need to find her mother.” He ground out the last words. “Help me.”

  Right now, finding Destiny was way more important than finding Summer. He glanced at the yoke, the throttle, and then the empty seat next to the one he’d been about to climb into. He could be over Waterford in fifteen minutes or less.

  “I’m going to help search,” he said, making the decision before his brain could talk him out of it.

  “Then get here when you can.”

  “I’ll be overhead in fifteen minutes.” He was already hoisting himself into the plane.

  “What? Where are you?”

  “Standing next to the Waterford Cessna.”

  “Damn good luck, then. Get up there and start looking, John. We’ll put out a full-court press to make sure Summer knows what’s going on. Meanwhile, we’ve already called in search and rescue, and all three Mahoneys are on duty right now.”

  “Good, but listen, I’m alone,” he said. “I’m not cleared for solo.”

  Shane was dead quiet. He had to know that flying solo before John had FAA clearance could jeopardize his chances of ever getting a pilot’s license. Ever.

  Like, why the hell not just give up every damn dream in one day?

  Because Destiny was lost.

  “But I’ll be there soon.”

  Shane blew out a low whistle. “Are you sure?”

  Was he kidding? He loved that kid almost as much as he loved her… “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, smashing the end button on the screen as he climbed into the pilot’s seat. He turned the key, and as the prop started spinning, he finally gave in to a single, unavoidable thought.

  Aidan said he was ready. But technically, legally? Well, the FAA might not agree. He could very well lose his pilot’s license, just like he could lose the restaurant, the franchise, and the woman he loved.

  But he would die before he let anything happen to Destiny, so the decision was a no-brainer, even for a man who was driven by his big old brain.

  Right now, he could take off, already cleared. ATC wouldn’t even ask if Aidan was here, since they’d flown so many times in and out of this airport. It was a risk, but he didn’t think about it for even five more seconds.

  A few minutes later, he was cleared for takeoff, his course set for Waterford Farm.

  * * *

  In the brief time it took to drive to John’s house, Summer relaxed. With very little effort, she and Travis talked, easily sliding back into a rhythm of friendship that had almost always been there from the very first time they’d communicated.

  When he pulled up to the house and rumbled his small truck down the drive to the back of the property, Travis let out a low, long whistle as he took in the view. “Nice digs.”

  “I was really lucky to get the place. It’s John’s house, but Destiny and I are living in a separate apartment upstairs.”

  “John, huh? Who drove you to town and gave you a job and…” He narrowed his eyes. “That’s your man?”

  “He’s my man,” she confirmed, a secret shiver of satisfaction slipping up her spine.

  He snorted. “Then he must think I’m an idiot for asking if he’s met Destiny.”

  “He adores her.”

  “Oh, man.” He threw her a look. “I guess I don’t have a snowball’s chance against tall, dark, and bearded?”

  “I’m afraid not.” She smiled and unlatched her seat belt, climbing out and meeting him at the front of the truck. He had that sadness around his eyes again, but she refused to feel guilty for being honest. The worst thing she could do now was give him any hope.

  “Travis,” she said, putting a hand on his forearm. “I never, ever meant to lead you on when we talked after Isaiah was killed. I leaned on you, quite hard, and I never meant to give you the impression I wanted more than a friend.”

  “It’s fine, Summer. I’m sorry for seeing you on that video and assuming you came here for a different reason.” He lifted a shoulder and turned, taking in the view. “I’d love to see that letter.”

  “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

  He nodded, walking toward one of the Adirondack chairs while Summer jogged up the stairs, feeling an incredible lightness around her heart. She had one less thing to feel guilty about, and for that reason alone, she was glad she came to Bitter Bark.

  But now she had to somehow persuade Travis not to take John’s business.

  She let herself in, found the letter, and headed back down, where he sat, still, staring out at the view.

  “Here you go.” She handed him the folded yellow pages. “This was in a package of his belongings that was lost in military shipment and showed up a long time after he died. To be honest, this letter was one of the reasons I broke off our friendship. Guilt kind of consumed me, considering how much he loved and trusted you.”

  He flinched at the words. “I know he did and…” With a sigh, he ran a finger along the edge of the legal paper. “I think I remember when he wrote this. It was two nights before he died. He went on and on about how much he loved writing you old-fashioned letters.”

  “And I loved getting them. Read it, Travis. How about I get us some iced tea?”

  “That’d be great.”

  She went back upstairs, thinking about the letter, the words nearly memorized she’d read it so many times. The second and third pages were tributes to Sergeant Travis Shipley, his talents for songwriting, his heart of gold, his nice family from North Carolina.

  In the last paragraph, Isaiah had written, Travis Shipley is going to be a big name in country music someday. I sure hope he never gives up his dreams.

  Would that be enough for Travis to reconsider ruining John’s dreams and continue pursuing his own? Holding two glasses of iced tea, she headed back down to find out. But when she reached the fire pit, she saw one of the pages rolled into a crumpled ball on the cold logs and ashes, while Travis sat back with tears streaming down his face.

  “Travis!” She dropped down next to him, setting the glasses on the table to put her hands on his arm. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to cry over that.”

  He turned away. “I can’t do this, Summer.”

  “Do what?”

  “Live a freaking lie.”

  “What…lie?”

  He pushed up with a grunt, letting the rest of the letter flutter from his hand to the ground. He didn’t talk right away, so Summer took the crinkled ball of paper and smoothed
it out, noticing it was the last page of Isaiah’s tribute to Travis. She slowly picked up the other pages, giving Travis time to say whatever he needed to say.

  “Have you ever carried around something for years that weighed you down so hard you couldn’t stand the strain of carrying it anymore?” he finally asked. “Of trying to forget or ignore it? Of hating that it’s always, always in the back of your mind, ready to swallow you whole?”

  She looked up at him. “Sometimes I felt that about the way I disappeared on you.”

  He snorted. “This is way bigger and badder, sister.”

  She stood slowly, frowning, watching him pace around the fire pit, his hands visibly shaking. “What is?”

  “The truth.” He dropped his head back and stabbed his fingers into his short hair. “You deserve to know the truth about what happened to your husband.”

  She stared at him, putting her hand on the back of the Adirondack chair for support because her legs suddenly felt wobbly. “What happened to Isaiah?”

  Crossing his arms, he bent over a little, like his stomach hurt, his face crushed into a look of ravaged pain. “He died saving me.” He practically whispered the words.

  “Excuse me?”

  He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. “He died to save my life.”

  She stared at him, processing this news. “That wasn’t in any of the reports about what happened,” she said softly.

  “Because no one on this earth knows it but me. And I never told anyone.”

  Her arms felt numb and her head light as the possibility that this was true settled on her heart. “What happened?”

  “A split-second decision made by a genuine hero,” he said. “It happened so fast, and he didn’t think, he just acted. We were on a patrol and climbed out of the Humvee, and just as my foot was about to hit the ground, he must have seen something. I don’t know what. He threw himself at me, shoving me out of the way, and…” His voice cracked. “The IED went off and killed him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “I don’t know. I was…ashamed. I felt like a coward for having to be saved, and he was a hero. No one saw. The others were inside the Humvee, and no one saw. But I knew.”

  “He deserved to be recognized for that,” she whispered. “He deserved to be remembered and honored.”

  “I know. And I live with that every damn day of my life.”

  Slowly, not trusting her legs, she let herself sit down in the chair, dropping the papers on the table.

  “Isaiah,” she whispered, clutching the armrests as if she could reach out and squeeze the arms of her late husband. “You really are Destiny’s hero daddy.”

  Travis sobbed silently.

  After a minute, he came around the fire pit and sat down next to her.

  “That’s why I first contacted you,” he admitted in a ragged whisper. “I wanted you to know. I felt you deserved to know. But I kept chickening out, and the more we talked…the harder I fell for you. And then I convinced myself that Isaiah died so that you and I could be together.”

  She gasped softly.

  “I know, stupid, right? But it’s how I rationalized it. And then, after I told you I loved you, I started dreaming about him every night. Every single night. Really, really…” He dragged his hands over his hair. “Bad dreams. Then I decided that cutting you out of my life was the only way I could handle the guilt.”

  She’d decided the same thing at the same time.

  “Oh, Travis. I’m just…I don’t know what to say.” Her head pounded with what-ifs and new doubts and the pain of reliving Isaiah’s death all over again. “You said you had survivor’s guilt.”

  “It was so much worse than that.” He held out his wrists and showed her the scars from what must have been an attempted suicide. “Drugs, booze, nothing can numb the guilt. Nothing.”

  She took a deep breath and tried to relate, but this made her guilt look like that of a student getting caught cheating on a test. Nothing compared to what he was carrying around.

  But what Isaiah had done had been his choice. And so like him.

  “So it’s pretty funny that you came here to apologize to me,” he said. “Because if I don’t apologize to you…” He tapped the scar on his left wrist. “I may finally succeed in this.”

  “Oh, Travis.” Tears welled, making him blur. “You need to forgive yourself.”

  He looked at her, doubt darkening his eyes. “I took him from you.”

  “He made the decision, not you.” She finally let go of the breath she was holding. “Of course he did,” she whispered. “Because he was amazing like that.”

  Travis dropped his head into his hands. “I should have let him get the honor he was due.”

  “That would have been nice. But it wouldn’t have brought him back.”

  “The world should know.”

  True. “His family should, and I’ll tell the people who matter. His parents, his sister. And his daughter.” She pressed her hand against her chest, thinking of the day when Destiny would be old enough to learn her father sacrificed his life for someone else’s. “I’ll tell them all. And you really need to tell someone in the Army.”

  “I know. I will. I can contact our commander and tell him everything.”

  After a moment, she reached out and touched his shoulder. “Travis, if you do that, now that you’ve told me? You can finally let go of the guilt, forgive yourself, and move on.”

  He shook his head, wiping a tear. “Summer, he loved you so much,” he whispered. “He never talked about anything else. Just Summer and Des. His girls. He felt really bad about how you guys fought before he left. I never told you that, either. He blamed himself.”

  “I felt bad about it, too.” She gave a soft laugh. “Guilt is an ugly thing, Travis. As long as it’s got you, you won’t be free.”

  “It’s got me good,” he said, looking down at his wrists again.

  “How do you think Isaiah would feel if you took your life after he gave up his for you?”

  His eyes shuttered. “He’d be pissed.”

  “Don’t let him down, Travis. Not like that and not with music. Don’t let his death be in vain. Forgive yourself, follow those dreams, and…”

  “Let your boyfriend keep his business,” he added on a dry laugh.

  “Yeah. Please.”

  “I can only—”

  A loud, long honk of a horn ripped both of their attention, making Summer jump as a car came screaming down the driveway toward them.

  “Summer!” Cassie hollered from the driver’s side window. “I found you!”

  Her heart leaping into her throat, Summer ran toward the car. “What’s wrong?”

  “Get in and come with me. We’ve been trying to track you down for forty-five minutes.”

  “Destiny?” she asked, the name strangled in her throat.

  “Yes.”

  “Is she okay?” Summer pressed her hands over her mouth, vaguely aware that Travis had come closer, but hung back a few yards.

  “Just get in. I’ll take you to Waterford Farm.”

  She whipped around to Travis as fear gripped her. “I have to go.”

  “Go. Go.” He nudged her toward the car. “And thank you, Summer. Thank you.”

  She started toward the passenger door and stopped, turning to him. “Don’t let Isaiah’s death be in vain,” she repeated. “Do good. Use your life to make the lives of others better. With music, with…whatever you can. Please.”

  He nodded.

  “And let go of the guilt!” She yanked the door open and dove into the passenger seat next to Cassie. “Just tell me she’s okay.”

  Cassie blew out a breath. “She’s missing, so I can’t say anything’s okay yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  As John’s plane approached the outskirts of Bitter Bark, landmarks became visible from his vantage point of ten thousand feet. He flew straight and steady, in perfect conditions with almost no wind, piloting on instinct. On
feeling, thank God. Although much of what he was feeling was…fear.

  What if something happened to Destiny?

  He pushed the thought out of his head as he saw the hills that surrounded his own property, then the distinctive dome in the middle of Vestal Valley College. He’d flown this pattern dozens of times with Aidan next to him, growing more confident in his piloting skills, certain that he’d done the right thing, even if it cost him a pilot’s license.

  He inched to the side and peered down at the giant square mile of emerald in the center of Bitter Bark. From here, he could make out trees and people and the bronze statue of Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod in the center across from the bitter bark tree that, according to more than one person, was really a hickory.

  He could see the playground and walkways and bleachers that were still in place for the next Dog Days of Summer event.

  Destiny’s tiny face and giant voice flashed in his head, her sweet little thank you without a stutter, her exuberance when she ran to collect her well-deserved trophy. Something clutched at his chest, squeezing the breath out of him.

  Something? Something like…what was he feeling? Protective? Hopeful? An ache to make sure that kid had everything she wanted and needed? Something. Something that made him break the rules, risk his dream, and take off, determined to help find her.

  He checked his gauges and crossed high above the winding residential streets and heavily wooded areas east of Bitter Bark, steadily and speedily making his way toward Waterford. In just a few moments, he spotted the road that formed most of the perimeter around the land and the arteries of dirt roads dotted with woods and ponds and fields.

  She could be anywhere. Lost, running after Mav…hurt.

  He swallowed hard and banked left, a wide curve taking him over Liam and Andi’s house way out on a hill, then closer in toward the big lake, then over the house and kennels. From here, he could see people spread out, the dogs in the pen, a few dozen cars and two fire and rescue trucks in the drive. Of course, the Mahoneys would be out in full rescuer force, thank God. And all of the Kilcannons would come together as they did, a force of nature to bend God’s will to theirs.