A Chance Mistake (7 page)

As he reached down to pick them up, he couldn’t help but see the trodden down grass as their steps took them away from the path and up a hill. He shouldn’t risk following them, but his curiosity wouldn’t let him pass it by.

He stepped up the hill, alert for any sound or clue of their presence. When he reached the hilltop, he knew without a doubt they were long gone. Down below about three football fields away was a paved road. He was almost tempted to go the road but had no idea which direction to take. At least the bike trail led to a village. If he went the wrong way on the road, no telling how long it would take to get to civilization.

Retracing his steps, and running at an easy jog, he made his way back to where the castle trail met up with the main path. The clouds had built up again, dousing the surroundings in ominous darkness. He stood at the conjunction and took a deep breath. Since his bike was stolen, Dafina wouldn’t have to worry about him riding over a cliff.

He slipped off his backpack, grabbed his water bottle and took a couple of long drinks while turning around to look at the paths. He stashed the bottle in his backpack. Funny how the three trails were so equidistant from each other. It would be easy to get turned around, nothing stood out as any sort of landmark. But he knew he needed to head to the right to go the village. And he knew which path he came from. A cold sensation coursed down his back. He was pretty sure which one he came from.

Taking in another deep breath, he set off down the dark shadowy trail as heavy clouds converged, blocking out any bit of light. He strode at a quick pace and wished the sun would re-appear. Traveling in the dreary gloom didn’t give him much confidence that he’d end up in a nice, safe place for the night. Hard telling how long it would take to get there by foot. And hard telling if he was on the right path. Why did he let his mind wander at such a crucial point? The surroundings looked much like the path he’d come from, but he could barely see the trail.

All he could do was continue on. He’d find out soon enough if he’d taken the wrong way by ending up at the castle again. He only hoped that it wouldn’t get too dark to see the path. Then he’d be in a pack of trouble.

After hiking up and down hills and going around a turn, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The burnt trees. The same patch of trees that he saw on the way to the castle. Blast! He had gone the wrong way by somehow heading back on the same trail. He made a quick about-face and jogged to help make up for lost time. His leg muscles complained big time. He zoned out and tried to think of something pleasant.

Hmm. Something pleasant that he liked. What could it be besides hunkering down with his laptop and getting lost in a story that built itself in front of him? Something wonderful—beautiful. His writing come to life. The platinum princess.
God help me.

Dafina. What was she doing now? Conjuring up a new look for Pops? Talking to a Greek god about his goat eating her flowers?

She didn’t go for Hoover because of his body-builder physique. Kory snorted and gave a short laugh. Well, his muscles weren’t as big as Hoover’s, maybe Kory would have a chance. What if she went for the creative, intellectual type? Ah…help.

Help. Help. Help.

Dafina stirred something up in him that only few women did. She intrigued him, attracted him, took him off guard. There was definitely something about her, and he was probably making the biggest mistake of his life by not finding a way to get to know her.

He could easily imagine living his life with her. Buying their own pet goat to butt the neighbor’s goat away.

All he had to do was explain from his heart. “Dafina, have you ever felt that you were destined to be with someone? I’ve never in my life felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”
Then she’d say, “Are you having me on? That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard. You must think me a fool.” She’d give him a big frown and cross her arms over her chest. Griff would growl and bite his ankle.

He stopped jogging and dropped to his knees before he reached the center of the intersecting paths. To the right was the village he’d never seen. Left—Dafina.

Taking time to get a quick drink, he pondered. Sadly, he turned right and the heavens let loose with another round of rain.

He walked briskly on autopilot and comforted himself. It was perfectly normal to think about nothing. He needed to do it more often. His internal cruise control got out of hand a couple of times, trying to make up for lost time. His foot smacked into a hard, rigid bump in the path, and before he knew it, he went airborne, half imagining dark shapes ready to grab him as he landed in wet, slippery mud. He wiped his chin with a water-logged sleeve, rain still zinging down. He righted himself and set off again, forcing his imagination away.

Just minutes after chiding himself to be more careful, he slipped going downhill and ended up in the mud once more, this time covering his backside. He stifled a growl of complaint and was more than ready to call it quits. But there was no quitting. No apartment to head to with a hot shower and warm bed. Would a hotel even accept him? Probably not.

The rain abruptly stopped. So much for any chance of the dirt being washed away.

He kept a good pace for what seemed like hours. The clouds parted in places to show a night sky with stars. As he wondered how much longer he’d have to travel before arriving at his destination, the surroundings seemed familiar. How could it be? It looked like Hoover’s house in the distance. Had to be coincidence.

Several minutes later, the path widened into a dirt road. Dafina’s house stood within sight. So—that had to mean the first path he’d taken at the conjunction was right. It had only looked like the other path with the blackened tree trunks. Or more than likely the fire had spread to the other trail to give it the same appearance as the other. He wiped a tired, dirty hand over his face.

The lights were on in her house—she was still awake. Certainly she’d be okay with letting him stay another night in the stone cottage.

He stumbled by a black car parked behind hers. Oh, no. She had company. He hated to interrupt, but what else could he do? Way too exhausted to try to walk to town, he heaved his tired body up the steps and knocked on her door.

Footfalls sounded by the other side of the door and the curtain moved. She probably wondered who was stupid enough to be on her porch at this time of night. The door opened, blinding him with light for a second. Through squinted eyes, he made out her smiling face and a rather stunned face of an older woman.

“Darling! There you are! We were worried about you.” Dafina took hold of his arm, pulling him in and gave him a warm lovely kiss on his dirty lips.

Chapter 8

There was something about Dafina, and it included her kiss. A few seconds longer and Kory would’ve seen fireworks. Dafina pulled him through the door while the older lady looked him up and down.

“What ‘appened to you?” The chubby lady with graying hair interrupted.

All he wanted was to focus on Dafina. “Uh—”

“He’s been on a survey.” Dafina kept her eyes on his.

Kory smiled. She seemed quite on her own study. Did his expression betray his emotions?

“A
survey
?” The older woman spat the word like it was the most absurd thing.

“Aye, a survey. My ‘usband is a writer.”

Kory choked and coughed.
Husband!
Dafina’s stern expression told him not to blow it and go with the flow.

“I didn’t know George was an author. Why don’t you tell me these things?” The woman’s thick hand smoothed down her shirt collar and patted her hair.

“Oh, and don’t call him George either. He goes by his middle name, Kory.”

“Ah.” The older woman nodded.

“And this is your—” Kory looked for any readable hint on Dafina’s face.

“Aunt. Aunt Nesta.” Dafina’s eyes begged him. For what he wasn’t sure. His mind still whirled at being her husband.

“That’s right.” He said it like he knew all along. Yes, totally expecting the family member…aunt.

Dafina’s gaze slid down his wet muddy shirt to his equally dirty pants.

“I—ah—fell down a couple of times. When it was raining—slipped in the mud. Sorry, honey.” He smiled, all but sure his face had turned lopsided with a crooked grin by using an endearment for his new wife. Lying wasn’t one of his strong-suits. He looked off to his left to see the warrior angel painting staring at him. Really he hadn’t lied, but playing along was—

“Let’s take care of you right away. Have a seat, Nesta. We’ll be right back.” Dafina grabbed his arm and took him down the hall by the restroom. “What happened? Are you okay,” she hissed.

“Dear wife, why are you angry?” A complete one-eighty from the sweet kiss and the shortest honeymoon in history.

“I’m not angry at you,” she hissed again. “Quite a jolt to see you all mucky and bruised. Tell me what ‘appened.” Dafina pulled him into her bedroom.

“The two darrens, as you call them—”

“What did they do? Please tell me they are in worse shape than you.”

“Uh—”

“Kooory.” Her eyes implored a good answer.

“They bound me up at gunpoint and stole my wallet—well the money I had in it. They ditched the wallet, and I found it. They took the bike.”

She sighed. “They didn’t hurt you?”

“No. At least they’re gone for good this time. I don’t have anything else they’d want.”

Dafina turned away and bent down, reaching in her closet. She mumbled something.

“What?”

She pulled out a headless body from her closet and unbuttoned the shirt. The fodder for his writing career was endless here.

“You’re going to need some clean, dry clothes. I don’t suppose you have trousers and a shirt in your backpack?”

Whoa. This was worse than fessing up to his mother that he hadn’t planned his vacation well.
Keep it short, Kory.
“No.”

She rolled her eyes. “Americans.”

“I wanted to travel light. Is that a sin, dear wife?”

“Ah, bogies. Quit calling me that. You can take these clothes, and I’ll get you a towel. You’ll surely need more than a swill in the bosh.”

“A what?”
Love her.

“You’ll need more than a wash in the sink. Agreed?”

“Yes. A swill in the shower and then put on Pop’s clothes?” He chuckled.

“More than a swill—and yes. I’m afraid it’s the only manly things I ‘ave.”

After she took the pillows and papers out of the shirt and jeans that made up the dummy, she handed the clothes to him along with a towel and washcloth.

Before disappearing into the bathroom, he leaned close to her. “And how is it now that I’m your husband?”

“Please pretend…for now,” she whispered, and batted her eyelashes. “And hurry, Aunt Nesta is waiting.”

Dafina lingered and watched the bathroom door shut. A dull thud sounded as Kory must’ve clunked his elbow against the door. She took in a breath of relief and stress slipped away. Just having him here gave her hope that she could deal with her aunt. Kory didn’t seem too put out about helping and acting the part of her husband.

Reluctantly, she headed back to the lounge and sat in a chair by Nesta who immediately started a dissertation on all of her lovely, brainy daughter’s accomplishments and travels. Dafina thought she was either going to fall asleep or lose her dinner. Clearly her cousin Ruby’s life was as near to perfect as one’s could be—along with her rich, successful fiancé who, of course, was madly in love with her and bestowed her gifts of jewels, expensive chocolates, and exotic flowers.
Gag!

Dafina did her best to smile and nod, but felt a nasty frown coming on. Footfalls in the hallway alerted her that Kory was done with his shower and headed their way. He wore the flannel shirt over the jeans, both too big on him. He gave her an endearing smile and sat on the sofa.

She moved to sit next to him and held his warm, squeaky clean hand. His hair was a shade darker from still being wet, making him even more striking, if that were possible. A spicy woods scent emanated from him. Her ex never smelled that good.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve lost some weight and apparently all my other clothes are in the dirty laundry,” he said in a charming manner to Nesta.

She waved it away and almost blushed. “I don’t think anyone ever mentioned that Geor—Kory is American.”

“Yes. But I guess you can see why he’s me ‘usband. Can’t you?” She leaned toward him and gripped his bicep, immediately losing her breath at the sensation as the muscle sprang to life and flexed. She took in a shaky breath. “Have you ever met a more kindhearted, sweet man?”