As Darkness Gathers (Dark Betrayals Book 2) (32 page)

When I came back down into the den, she handed me a down jacket. “It is my son’s, so it will be much too large for you, but you will need it.”

She was right, the jacket swallowed my frame, but it was warmer than my own and more durable. I wrapped my scarf around my neck and accepted the knit cap, waterproof mittens, and prepared knapsack she offered me.
 

Honoré stayed in the cabin and stared at us with a dejected expression on his bearlike face as we headed toward the door then he ambled toward the hearth to flop down before the fire.
 

Simone led me to a shed behind the cabin and dragged aside the sliding door to reveal fishing equipment on the walls, several canoes and kayaks hung from the ceiling, four all-terrain vehicles, and two snowmobiles.

“I just checked these yesterday,” she said. “We will take the snowmobiles. Are you comfortable driving one?”

I pulled the knit cap low over my ears and donned the mittens while eyeing the vehicle. It looked intimidating and cumbersome. “I never have before.”

“We will only take one, then.”

I rode on the long seat behind Simone. There was no trail and the terrain was rough, so it took almost an hour. My face, hands, and feet were numb from the wind.

Simone slowed and gestured in the direction of where she said the mine and several vacation cabins were located. I imagined one of the cabins was Daniel and Timothy’s.

We wound through another thick copse of spruces, and then the trees thinned and the blanket of snow rolled smoothly until it tapered into the river. Simone eased back on the throttle until the engine rumbled and died and the snowmobile slid to a stop.

I clambered off the vehicle and stared.
 

The river was a ribbon of black set in a veil of white. On the other side was a dense stand of trees angling uphill and, beyond that, the steep bluff.

“The trail will be icy,” Simone said, pulling the bag from the storage compartment on the back of the snowmobile. She retrieved the rectangular, clawed snowshoes she’d packed and handed them to me. “Strap these on.”

I knelt and buckled the restraints securely around my boots.

“I have packed food and water and additional layers of clothes for you. It is about two miles from the river to the top.”

I listened to what she said, but my attention was riveted on the landscape.
 

This was the very spot where Timothy, Clay, and I had come upon the river. But, where we had arrived at an impassible stretch of turbulent water, there was now a bridge spanning the distance between the banks.

I straightened from my crouched position, unable to look away. “The bridge . . .” My voice was faint. “It wasn’t there.”

“No, the construction is recent.” Simone’s tone was gentle. “I recognize you, you know.”

I turned away from the bridge and hoped the stinging moisture in my eyes would be attributed to the cold wind. “You do? From where?”

She was watching me steadily. “Where the river widens and slows is less than five miles from the inn. Honoré heard the boy calling for help before I did. My brother owns the mine and the only helicopter for hundreds of miles. After we found you, I was on the search and rescue team that was sent out for the others.”

I swallowed and glanced at the river. “I don’t . . . I didn’t know.”

“It was a brave thing you did.”

My laugh hurt. “Everyone says that, but I didn’t feel brave. And now I know . . .”

“Know what?” she prompted when I let the sound of the wind and water drown out my voice.

“That I’m responsible for all of it to begin with.”

She was quiet for so long that I risked turning back to face her.

“Responsibility. It can be a heavy burden, yes? And often a misplaced one.” She handed me a two-way radio and backpack. “Channel three on the radio. Go on. I will wait for you here.”

I stood in the center of the bridge, staring down into the swiftly moving water for several long minutes before I could force myself the rest of the way across and onto the opposite bank.

The snow was crisp and untouched, and it whispered and groaned under my snowshoes. Threading my way through the trees, I caught sight of a hare disappearing into a hollow beneath a pine.
 

A movement of russet snared my gaze, and I turned to watch a fox pad through the snow less than twenty feet away. And slowly, beneath the tumultuous roil of emotions, a feeling of wonderment was growing within me in the face of such stark beauty.

The steepness of the trail up the bluff was only slightly relieved by the switchbacks. I paused often to catch my breath and to guzzle water from one of the three canteens Simone had filled.

My lungs were burning and my legs felt shaky by the time I made it to the top. My knee throbbed, and I canted my hips to take some of my weight off it. Dragging the knit cap from my head, I shoved a hand through my flattened hair before propping my fists on my waist and sucking in burning lungfuls of air. My breath turned to vapor before my face, and I fit the cap back over my head so I wouldn’t grow cold.

I faced away from the overlook and studied the forest with no desire to venture further. My eyes could find no discernible trail that Timothy, Clay, and I would have made. Looking at it now only reinforced the knowledge that the wilderness could easily have swallowed and overcome us. And for the first time, instead of feeling fear, I felt strength.

I turned slowly toward the view. The trees below hid the river, but in the distance I could see the dark plain of the reservoir. There were multiple wisps of smoke rising into the winter-gray sky, and even from this distance I thought I could detect their faint smell.

I brushed snow from a rock, dropped my pack to the ground, and took a seat. Simone had packed an apple and an orange, a hunk of bread and cheese, and a couple of tough ropes of jerky.

I pulled off my mittens and peeled the orange. As soon as I broke the skin, the tangy aroma of citrus filled the air, and I bit into a sweet and succulent wedge.

Staring out over the wide, pure expanse below, I drew in a deep, clean breath of air. I held it in for a moment, and then let it go on a drawn-out sigh. With it, some of the ache that had taken up residence in my chest lessened.
 

When I finished the orange, I buried the curled, fragrant peeling in the snow beside the rock, took one last glance around, and hiked back down the bluff.
 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said the next morning then I stooped to hug Honoré. “Either of you,” I whispered into his dense fur.
 

He wiped his drool-coated muzzle on my shoulder.

“You don’t need to,” Simone said, handing me a thermos of her coffee. “But if you will return in the summer, I will be able to offer you one of my cabins.”

“I would like that. Very much,” I said, and she smiled.

I glanced in my rearview mirror until she and Honoré disappeared from sight as I traversed the gravel road. When it came to its end, I turned east on the highway and headed for home.

I stopped in Buffalo for the night and was on the road again early the next morning. I arrived in Cleveland just before noon, bypassed my apartment, and drove straight to Julia’s bakery. Weekends were always busy for her, but I managed to get there between the morning and afternoon crowds.
 

I paused outside, surprised by the help wanted sign hanging in the window, before pushing through the door to find Timothy behind the counter. “Well, hello. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Finch!” He hooked his thumbs into the apron bib and grinned at me. “Dad and I are helping Julia out today, and then later we’re all going to the movies.”

I leaned a hip against the counter. “Going to see anything good?”

“That new action movie that just came out. I thought Julia would pick some girly movie since we gave her the choice, but she didn’t. Pretty cool, huh?”

I smiled, unsure who adored my friend more—the man she was dating, or his son. “Way cool.”

“Where have you been? You want to see Julia?”

I went with the second question, since it was easier. “Only if she’s not too busy.”

“I bet she’s not when she knows it’s you.” He turned and yelled over his shoulder, “Julia! There’s someone here to see you!”

She backed through the swinging door that led into the kitchen. “Don’t touch those cupcakes, Daniel, except to fill them with ganache. I know how many I made, and I’ll know if you even look at one lustfully.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face.
 

She turned, wiping her hands on her apron. “What’s up, bud? Who—” She caught sight of me, and I felt my own smile slip away when she simply stared.

I straightened from leaning against the counter and knotted my hands. “Hi, Ju.”
 

Her hair was lavender now, and there was chocolate frosting in it as well as a streak across her cheek.
 

I cleared my throat. “I know why we’re friends. You’re the sister I never had.”
 

She stepped around the counter but remained silent.
 

“I admire and respect you. And that
is
enough. It always was. I hope I—”

“Stop,” she said. “Just stop.” She stared at me a moment, and then she closed the distance between us and hugged me.

I returned her embrace just as tightly, and my eyes stung when I was enveloped in the scent of sugar and flour. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“You should be.” She pushed back to peer into my face. Her smile was watery. “But I understand. I do.”

I nodded. “Forgive me?”

“Of course. Always.”

We hugged again, and then I whispered, “Do . . . do you know where Clay is?”

She held me at arm’s length and her smile dimmed. “He left, Finch.”

It felt as if the air had been knocked from my lungs. “Left?”

“Right after you did. Said there were some things he needed to do until you were ready.”

“Ready?”
 

“To come home. He wanted us to let him know when you were back. Unless you already have.”

“Not yet.” I shook my head and turned to Daniel, who was standing with Timothy behind the counter. “Daniel, do you mind holding off on that phone call?”

He studied me. “If you’re sure.”

I smiled. “I am,” I said then turned back to Julia. “I need to go see my parents, but first . . .” I walked to the window, pulled down the help wanted sign, and returned to her side. “I seem to be out of work for the time being, and I see you need help.”

She stared at the sign and then at me. A slow smile lit her features. “Do you have any experience that you believe qualifies you for the job?”

“Well . . .” I tapped my chin. “I have a few years of customer service experience, I know a good cupcake when I taste it, and my best friend happens to own a bakery.”

She folded the sign and tucked it into her apron pocket. “I’m still going to want to see a résumé,” she said. And then she laughed.