by Donna Fasano
She silently studied his handsome profile.
“From the second I was slapped with that lawsuit—” he kept his eyes trained on the roadway ahead “—I was overwhelmed. Meetings with lawyers. Running around gathering evidence. Sitting in the courthouse. It was a nightmare.”
His choice of words was ironic, seeing as how one nightmare had provoked another. Evidently he realized it, too—hence the grimace that furrowed his brow when he cast her a quick glance.
“But my men haven’t let me down for a minute,” he continued. “They’ve kept the contracted jobs going and have even bid on new ones.”
“You’ve been communicating with them?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. Then he chuckled again. “I may be living with few creature comforts at the cabin, but I’ve got my cell phone and laptop. I drive over to the library whenever I need a wifi connection.”
After that there was a lull in the conversation, and it gave her the chance to ask, “How have you been?”
She knew he would understand the question; that she was asking about the dreams. She studied his profile, remembered how earlier that morning he’d sipped from her coffee mug while her fingers had still been curled around the heated ceramic. The moment had felt deliciously intimate.
“The nightmares are coming less frequently,” he said. Then after a short, bewildered pause, he added, “They’ve changed.”
“Changed?” Curiosity had her chin tipping up.
Chay nodded. “I told you about the heat. And the loud, angry voices. The movement. The fear.” He moistened his lips. “Well, now everything is bathed in white light. I feel… I don’t know, really… separated from what’s taking place rather than being in the midst of it all. I’m no longer participating. I’m more a spectator.”
What had happened to alter his dream? She could plainly see the same question running through Chay’s thoughts.
“I don’t wake up feeling terrified any longer.”
“That’s a change for the better, I’d say.”
He nodded. “But I’m still no closer to discovering what it all means.”
Dakota Makwa’s words echoed through her mind. Urge Chay to come visit us. We’d like to see him.
If she were to mention his cousin, Chay would question her about their affiliation, and that could cause the conversation to get too close to Brenda and Scotty. But she and Chay had already discussed Grayson.
“Chay,” she began haltingly, but then boldly blurted, “you need to go see your grandfather.”
“No,” he said immediately. “That won’t help me.”
“How do you know?” Before he could answer, she tossed out, “Why have you not gone to see him before this? You’ve been home for weeks. Have the two of you argued? Did something happen—”
“Nothing happened.”
The tone of his voice warned her to probe no further.
Silence.
Chay sighed. “Believe me, Tori, I didn’t fight with my grandfather.”
Unable to stop herself, she softly queried, “So why have you not visited him? Why have you stayed away from the reservation? For years?”
Braking at the traffic light on the edge of town, he turned to look at her, long and steadily. Finally he said, “I don’t know.”
Confusion clouded his raven eyes.
“Go see him,” she urged, keeping her voice gentle. “He raised you. He loves you. He might be able to give you some clues about the past. About what the images in your dream mean. And besides all that, he’s a shaman, Chay. H-he’s very… astute.”
Had she said too much? Would Chay ask how she knew of Grayson’s perceptive nature?
But Chay seemed too wrapped up in his own problems to ask any questions. He looked out the window and muttered, “I just don’t know.”
Quickly Tori offered, “I’ll go with you.”
His gaze was like a laser beam on her face. He was obviously contemplating why she’d make such an offer.
“I mean it,” she said, before he had time to come up with excuses to reject her suggestion. “I’d be happy to go with you. Pick me up tomorrow morning and we’ll drive around the lake to the reservation.” Chay searched her face without saying a word. The car behind them honked its horn, alerting him that the light had turned green. He silently drove into the town of Mountview.
Finally impatience got the better of Tori. “Chay! What do you say? Will you go?”
He nodded slowly. “If you’ll go with me.”
Triumph ignited happy fireworks in her chest.
~oOo~
Chay dropped Tori off at Mountview’s town hall, where she spent twenty minutes or so filling out the paperwork for a building permit. The clerk told her the permit would be processed in about a week. Tori paid the fee with a credit card, and then walked up the block to the combination hardware store and lumberyard, where she’d arranged to meet Chay.
Sunshine warmed the golden, October day, and Tori tipped her face heavenward to soak up the bright rays. Soon winter would cloak New England in a blanket of snow, so she wanted to enjoy this nice weather while she could.
Winter offered many benefits—skiing down the mountainous slopes, snuggling by a roaring fire with a good book clutched in one hand and a cup of cocoa in the other, baking hearty bread on gray afternoons. But Tori had to admit that she favored any of the three other seasons over winter.
Passing the movie theater, she nodded hello to a stranger on the street.
She was so pleased with herself at the moment. Chay had agreed to visit his grandfather. She could just imagine how happy the elderly shaman would be for the opportunity to spend some time with his grandson.
Tori was only vaguely aware when she passed the teen who was taping a paper to the glass of the pharmacy’s storefront, but seeing Brenda’s image staring down at her from the next telephone pole stopped her in her tracks.
REWARD! Have you seen this woman?
Her mouth went dry as sand, and she glanced around her covertly before reaching up and snatching the poster off the pole. She turned and saw the teenager attach another poster to a big blue mailbox halfway down the block.
She hurried toward him. “Hey,” she called, and he looked up at her. “Can I talk to you a minute?” The boy nodded and shrugged at the same time, then loped toward her. When he got close enough, Tori gauged his age to be around thirteen or fourteen.
“What’s this?” she asked, pointing to the poster she’d retrieved from the telephone pole.
Again he shrugged. “Dunno. Guess some woman is missing.” He dug at the edge of his armpit. “This guy offered me fifty bucks and his autograph if I’d tape the posters up all over town. Said he was going to be famous and that his autograph was going to be worth big money.”
Tommie Boy.
The kid’s nose scrunched up dubiously. “I didn’t really want the guy’s autograph, just the money. But he was big as a gorilla, so I took it.” He grinned, his face beaming. “I’m going to use the fifty bucks to buy a new skateboard.”
“Sounds like fun,” Tori said. Then she asked, “How many posters did the man give you?”
“Not many. Fifteen or twenty, I think.”
Tori hesitated, then said, “C-could I help you?”
“Thanks, lady, but I only have three left.”
“I’ll take those,” she offered. “Then you can go pick out that skateboard you’re wanting.”
“Great! Thanks.”
The teen handed over the posters and then charged off down the street.
Three from the boy, one from the telephone pole, one on the pharmacy window and one on the mailbox. That meant there were nine to fourteen more posters to find and get rid of.
Tori hurried along the street, plucking a poster from the window of the hardware store as she passed. She attempted to be as nonchalant about the chore as she could. Getting noticed was the last thing she wanted. Tommie Boy would probably return to town before too many days passed. Maybe Tori should suggest
to Brenda that it would be safer for her and Scotty to leave the state.
The hunt took her three streets over from where she started before she was satisfied that she’d found all the posters that advertised Brenda’s image. Tori was shaking as she sat down on the bench. Taking a few of the papers at a time, she ripped them in half, then into quarters. When she’d destroyed all the posters, she twisted to toss them into the empty garbage receptacle behind the bench, then turned back around slowly and folded her hands in her lap.
She gulped cool air into her lungs and tried to calm the riot of images floating in her head. Scotty when he’d arrived on her doorstep, wide-eyed with fear. Brenda with her bruised and gashed face. Then the impressions pressing in on Tori changed. The woman’s battered face became Susan’s. Her sister’s pale blue eyes weeping. Her soft voice, bewildered, as she’d begged Tori for answers, again and again, as to why a husband who was supposed to love her would want to hurt her.
Tori closed her eyes, and she was drawn five years into the past.
The rosewood casket had a smooth, glossy finish. The brass handles and corner pieces reflected the sunlight from where it sat supported atop the hole in the ground awaiting it.
Grief ripped at Tori’s heart.
It could very well be that the only thing between Brenda and a demise similar to Susan’s was Tori.
What was she doing flirting with the idea of having Chay work on the carriage house while Brenda and Scotty were residing at the inn? Had she totally lost all semblance of her common sense? Hadn’t Chay said that he’d have a plumber install the pipes for the bathroom fixtures? Hadn’t he mentioned that an electrician would be needed to update the wiring? And hadn’t he said that an inspector would have to come for final approval of each stage of the project?
With workers coming and going at Freedom Trail, keeping Brenda’s presence a secret would be impossible. One of the workers might make an innocent remark to someone in town about Tori’s guests. What if she’d missed one of the reward posters? What if one of the posters got into the hands of someone who happened to see Brenda at the B&B? Being the root of all evil, cash was simply too much for some people to resist.
But what about Chay and the problems he was facing? The question whispered through her head.
Hadn’t she just this morning come to the conclusion that he was in need of understanding and sympathy, too? He’d said he needed something to focus his attention on, something to occupy him, something to deflect his vexing restlessness until he found the answers he sought.
“You, Tori Landing,” she murmured to herself firmly, “have allowed the desires of your heart to cloud your thinking.”
Chay Makwa was fully capable of solving his own problems. He didn’t need her help. Not to the extent that Brenda and Scotty did, anyway. He had family who cared about him and would be more than happy to be there for him. All he had to do was reach out to them. Brenda didn’t have a single soul to rely on but Tori.
He wasn’t in any physical danger. Brenda’s very life had been threatened by the man who was supposed to love, honor, and cherish her. And she feared the angry, out-of-control boxer enough that she had fled her home with her son despite the serious probability of violent behavior from Tommie Boy that her escape would incite.
Tori sighed, her shoulders rounding sadly. There was a reason she kept to herself. There was a clear and strong motivation for her solitary lifestyle.
The safety of the women she harbored.
How she had lost sight of that was beyond her.
Brilliant autumn days such as this one were meant to be savored. They were not meant for discovering that you’d completely lost your senses, that you’d acted like an utter fool due to something as impractical as raging hormones. Tori knew the right thing to do—the only thing to do—was to put Brenda and Scotty above her own paltry wants.
With a plan now firm in her mind, Tori scanned the clear skies, her fingers trailing absently down the length of her neck. But she’d already told Chay he could coordinate the renovation project. How would she ever rationalize her change of mind?
She could explain about her work with abused women. She could tell him about Brenda and Scotty, and the terrifying danger the two would face if their presence at Freedom Trail became known.
Don’t tell nobody. Brenda’s inflexible voice rolled into her mind, the woman’s huge, terrified eyes haunting her thoughts.
Tori had promised Brenda she wouldn’t expose her. To anyone. And Tori intended to honor that promise. She’d been working too hard to garner the woman’s trust to break it.
She didn’t have a doubt that Chay could be trusted with the knowledge—she just had to get Brenda’s permission first, that was all. But until she was able to convince Brenda that Chay was trustworthy, how was she going to explain to Chay that she couldn’t have anyone working on her property?
Tori’s neck muscles had become so tight that her head had begun to ache at the temples.
She’d just have to find a way. That’s all there was to it.
Chapter Five
“So…”
Even though Chay’s tone was soft, it made Tori start with a slight jerk.
“You going to tell me what happened?”
“What happened?” Realizing she sounded like some idiot parrot, she attempted to look as if she were fully cognizant, fully in the moment. But the truth of the matter was, she was preoccupied and had been during the entire drive home.
They were unloading the last of their purchases from the bed of his truck. He carried two gallons of paint into the carriage house. She followed him inside with two more.
Chay set down the paint cans and turned to face her. “Come on, Tori. It’s pretty obvious that something happened between the time I let you off at the town hall and when you met up with me at the store. You’ve been awfully quiet. Like something is worrying you. Did they give you a hard time at the building department over the permit?”
Of course! The permit. It was the perfect excuse. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
“The permit won’t be issued until next week,” she told him. “We’ll have to put off starting any work until then.”
“Is that what’s bothering you? I may not be able to call in the plumber and the electrician until we have a permit number to offer them, but that shouldn’t stop me from coming—”
“I’d really rather wait until we have a permit. We’re supposed to display it where it can be seen. That’s what the clerk told me, anyway.”
“Yes, but—”
“I want to wait,” she repeated in a rush.
He just stood there, clearly confused by her sudden brusqueness.
The urge to squirm under his scrutiny became more than she could bear. “I have a thousand things I need to do,” she blurted out. “If we put off starting the job until next week then… I’ll be able to help you.” Amazingly, she found her chin dipping toward her chest as she glanced up through raised lashes. “I’m eager to learn some things about… well, you know, about carpentry and painting and hammering… and all that.”
Had that sultry voice come from her throat?
Well, she couldn’t have him thinking she was a complete lunatic, could she? She’d accepted his help with the renovation just hours ago and now she was trying to put him off. An excuse to start at a time when she’d be free to help was plausible enough. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, not after he’d gone to all this trouble for her.
But even as she made the silent excuses, she wanted to kick herself for using that coy, please-rescue-me tone. What was she thinking? Hadn’t she just decided that she couldn’t afford to toy with this flirtation with Chay? That she’d made a choice to dedicate her life to helping women who could not help themselves? That the lives she touched, made better—even saved, in some instances—were worth the isolation she was forced to endure?
It was obvious that he wasn’t quite sure what to think of her change of mind. The crease on his brow mi
ght have made her confess all had she not been in such turmoil.
“You want to learn all about hammering?”
His dark eyes glittered suddenly. He was making fun of her.
“Okay, Tori,” he said finally. “We’ll do things your way.”
He pulled a business card from his back pocket and offered it to her. “This has my cell phone number on it. Call me when you’re ready to start the job.”
They walked across the lawn to his truck.
“You’re not angry, are you?” she felt compelled to ask. “That I want to wait?”
He pulled opened his driver-side door. “Of course not. But you should know that, as long you’ve applied for the permit, it’s perfectly acceptable that we can begin work. It’s not like federal agents are going to show up at your door, or something.”
“I do understand,” she said. “And I’ll clear my calendar just as quick as I can.” Without offering any more, she promised, “I’ll call you.”
The combination nod and shrug he offered her was clear indication that he was acquiescing only because she was giving him no other choice. The engine roared to life.
A sudden thought had her calling out his name after he’d backed several feet down her drive. He braked.
Tori jogged to the truck. “Are we still visiting Grayson tomorrow?”
He hesitated. Then he asked, “Is ten o’clock good for you?”
“Ten is great,” she told him. “I’ll be ready.”
~oOo~
The elderly shaman’s dark eyes lit with joy when he looked upon Chay, and Tori knew that every second of awkwardness she’d suffered during the drive over to the reservation had been worth it.
“Chay.”
“Grandfather.”
The men embraced. Grayson’s weathered face nearly crumpled with the deep emotion, but he held himself together, his eyes glittering with moisture as he smiled over Chay’s shoulder at Tori. However, the poignant moment didn’t last long. Chay’s back stiffened. He planted his hands on his grandfather’s shoulders and drew away. Tori could tell he was having a hard time meeting Grayson’s gaze.
