Down the Hidden Path (5 page)

The breeze was a constant companion for their silence as she and
Miah walked. Wind blew first at their sides, then into their faces after only
a nominal pause at the car. Gray’s hands came up and cupped her elbows.

Miah moved closer. “You cold?”

“A little chilly.” She cast a glance over the slip of her dress. “Thin material.”

“I don’t have a jacket, but you can take my shirt if you want.”

One brow cocked. “That’s okay.”

They ducked under the section of wrought iron fence and the cemetery opened up before them. Gray’s attention moved over the moonlit tombstones. They seemed to glow with unnatural light, their long shadows cast beside them opposite a full moon that peeked from the gathering clouds, brightening the area.

“Why do you like graveyards?” Miah leaned into the wind. It was steady now, sending stray leaves and debris along the dirt paths of the cemetery.

She turned to face him. “I don’t know.”

His golden eyes searched her.

“I guess a cemetery is a place of honor. It marks life and life is precious. I think cemeteries don’t get the honor they deserve.”

Miah chuckled. “So, you probably don’t appreciate the fact that the production company of the movie built a set right at the edge.” He nodded toward the wooden cottage that had been constructed.

Gray’s shoulder tipped up. “They said it would be suitable for a caretaker. Since they made it look old, part of the property, I guess I don’t mind it. In their own way, they’ve improved the area. That building will be there long after we’re dead and gone.”

They walked on, taking the dirt path that would lead them beyond the cottage and out to the street. Just as they reached the corner, the sky crackled and lit up with jagged strips of lightning.

“Come on.” Miah took Gray’s hand and pulled her beneath the small awning at the front door of the movie-set cottage.

Gray scanned the sky. “I didn’t see that coming.” Of course, that’s how it was in the Ozark Mountains. Storms rose without warning.

When the wind shifted and caused giant drops of water to pelt their sides, Miah used his body as a shield. Warmth rose from where he stood, his back to the storm, his chest facing Gray. And for the longest time, she stood right there, thinking about the future, how she knew in her heart Miah and she were on vastly different paths. She knew this might be one of the last nights they spent together like this. Best friends, but just a little bit more. When rain began to run in rivulets down his arms, she reached out and dragged him closer.

Miah planted his hands on the wall behind her, closing her into a safe half circle. She let her hands trail down his arms to remove some of the rain.

She shook off the excess and watched as the water speckled the last bits of dryness on the porch floor at her feet. When her eyes came up to Miah with an apology on her lips, she halted. His gaze had changed to molten lava. His breathing, ragged. A new kind of heat flew off him in waves and before Gray could stop herself, she was trapped in it. The heat rose, swirling around them, and now her breathing matched his.

Miah licked his lips and somewhere deep inside, she knew a war was going on. But she didn’t care. She’d loved Miah since junior high, when he’d seen the invisible girl who everyone called Gray.

In an instant, all their time together rushed into her mind. It was like people who say their life flashes before their eyes right before death. Swimming in the river, long walks in the woods, late-night study sessions when she fell asleep with her head against his chest. And quite suddenly, a new sensation skated through Gray’s being. A territorial sensation.

Miah was hers.

So many times, she’d hoped he’d ditch the friendship card and play the boyfriend card, but he never had. And she’d certainly never go there if he didn’t. Except. Except right now, Miah was looking at her with eyes filled with desire, and suddenly Gray realized for the first time ever, she was in control of the relationship.

Her hands, still wet, came up to rest against his chest.
Tell me what you want
, her gaze said to him, and when her hands fisted into the cloth of his shirt, Miah’s groan answered her question.

It fueled her. Gray reached up behind her and gripped one of his hands. When she placed it on her hip, another groan slipped from Miah’s lips. Gray captured the other hand. He came willingly now, putty in her grasp. Fire rose around them and they might as well have been standing in an inferno. Gripping his wrist tighter, she used his fingertips to trace the line of her breastbone, down, down, over her flat stomach and finally rested them on her other hip.

And then the world became a blur. He dragged her closer, so close they touched everywhere from chest to thighs. Miah had never kissed her. But she knew, she knew he was going to, and it would likely ruin her, devastate her, but it didn’t matter. Right now, Miah McKinley was hers, and she wouldn’t feel anything but joy.

His lips came down on hers hard, as if the whole of their relationship needed to be summed up in that one deep kiss. Or maybe it was to wreck the relationship they’d had and build a new one. Nothing was ever gained without loss. Gray had saved up her whole life for this kiss, and as his moist lips and tongue danced over her, she realized it was all worth the wait. He crowded around her more tightly, fitting her into him as if she’d always been there. As if it was her home. Miah couldn’t seem to get enough of her, and as his mouth trailed to the edge of her jaw and he whispered, “What are we doing?” into her ear, maybe it should have stopped her. Reminded her she was a practical kind of girl and Miah was a guy who’d had a lot of girlfriends. He was schooled at all this. She was new, and yet that wasn’t how it felt at all. She felt in control of her destiny for the first time. It was good and reckless and perfect.

Lightning struck just above the building, causing Miah to jolt. It broke the moment. He blew out a breath and started to take a step back. But she trapped him, her hands clasping around his neck, her eyes staring deep into him.

“Is this door unlocked?” she whispered.

A quick frown, then understanding lit his gaze. “Gray.” It was an answer and a question all rolled into one.

“Tell me you don’t want this and we’ll walk away.” Her touch became a caress. His body instantly responded. “Tell me you don’t want me, Jeremiah.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled several breaths. “I . . . I don’t . . .” Then, his eyes popped open and he was touching her everywhere. Lips on her mouth, fingers sliding over her bare shoulders. He
growled into her ear, “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Then stop pushing me away and take me inside.”

CHAPTER 3

Jeremiah woke with a start and sat straight up in bed. He tried to shake the grogginess from his being, but in the short months he’d been out of the army, he’d gone soft. He scanned the room with his powerful night vision. There was nothing there. He closed his eyes and quieted his breathing, listening, tuning in to the most acutely trained of his five senses. A light wind outside, the hum of his clock, a ceiling fan, no other sounds penetrated his mind. And that’s when he knew he hadn’t heard anything. He’d sensed something. At the realization, Miah threw off the covers, his feet hitting the hardwood floor. Without the help of a light, he grabbed the jeans he’d shrugged out of just before dropping into bed and tugged them on over his hips. He wasn’t cold, but that didn’t stop the gooseflesh from rising along his neck and shoulders. Miah made his way downstairs, a curse and a prayer vying for dominance on his mouth.

Something was wrong. Tragically wrong, and if he had to guess, it involved one of his brothers. He clutched his cell phone and paced the floor while trying to make contact. It took him two hours to get any information at all, but once he did, he went straight to Charlee’s house.

He pounded on the door until Charlee answered. Her curly hair was a fright and she tugged a robe around her midsection and blinked away the sleep while flipping on the porch light. It was the middle of the night and as soon as she saw him, she sucked a deep breath. Instantly, she knew something was wrong, just like he’d known.

A desperate look crossed her face and he could tell her teeth were clinched together as if the motion could shore her up for what Miah was about to say.

And how exactly was he supposed to explain? His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Worry had stolen the color from her face and he knew he had to tell her
something
. But for a man who’d dealt with his fair share of pain, words failed him.

The tension in the air was stealing the oxygen, making everything worse, and it was at that moment Miah remembered Ian was out of town. He needed to get a grip. Needed to be strong for her.

“Miah,
what
has happened?”

His eyes blinked and then filled with tears.

Charlee grabbed the doorframe, her thin fingers locking on the wood to help hold her upright. “Miah! What?”

“It’s . . .” He started to take a step in, but stopped. “It’s Caleb. He’s been in an accident. Charlee, they said he might not make it through the night.”

He watched as she absorbed the words. She paled, a black veil appearing to float over her eyes. Charlee was about to faint. He grabbed her up just as her knees buckled.

The motion helped clear Miah’s addled mind. He had to hold it together for her. She was lax in his arms, and he led her to the couch where she could sit.

Without invitation, a vision of a younger Caleb entered Miah’s mind. His baby brother was seven and had found a mud hole where he’d proceeded to slather himself. It was Sunday morning and they were supposed to be going to church when a mud-covered Caleb rounded the edge of the house, his white eyes and bright smile the only things that distinguished him as a human.

More memories of baby Caleb rushed into his thoughts. Miah’d been at his side when he took off his training wheels, when he’d skinned his knee climbing the off-limits cherry tree in Farmer Roger’s yard. Six years younger than him and a year younger than Charlee, Caleb was the baby. And now . . . now he was . . .

“What happened?”

Miah clutched his cell phone. “I don’t know exactly. He was in a caravan. Not sure if it was an IED or if they were attacked.” His hands threaded together and released around the device that would bring news of their brother. “Anyway, he’s in transit right now. I don’t know where he’ll end up.”

“We need to be there. We can fly—”

“Charlee, we could be chasing him for days before we’d catch up. As much as I hate to say it, we have to wait until they let us know what’s going on.” He’d run the scenarios in his mind already. Waiting. That’s what they had to do. Neither of them was good at it.

She tugged him down on the couch beside her. “But Miah, he’s all alone. What if . . . what if—”

He shook his head. “He won’t. Okay? Don’t even think that. He’s going to pull through. He’s a fighter.” But as he gave her his strongest, most stern look, he hoped she couldn’t see the doubt. Sometimes soldiers died. And there was nothing they could do to change that.

She made tea while they waited for word on Caleb. Neither of them talked. Charlee had dragged a throw blanket over her legs and Miah sat soldier straight on the edge of her couch. The tea finally got cold sitting on the coffee table between them. Miah’d been there over an hour, clutching his phone and staring at it, willing information about their little brother. “When will Ian be back?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good.” Miah rubbed his hands through his hair. “He needs to be here.”

“How do you know someone will call tonight?”

Miah sat the phone on the table. “Called in some favors from some of the higher-ups.”

Charlee nodded. “They’re doing this because of Dad, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Dad’s still taking care of all of us, even though he’s gone.” Miah choked a little on the last word because they’d lost enough already. First their mom, then their dad. It wouldn’t be fair . . . couldn’t be right to lose Caleb, too. Surely the two of them wouldn’t have to plan their baby brother’s funeral.

When he could take the quiet no more, Miah went out front and got an armload of firewood. Fall was still in full swing in the Ozarks, meaning comfortable days and chilly nights. The leaves were turning brown and falling from the trees and it really wasn’t cold enough for a fire, but he chose to make one anyway. Charlee followed him, grabbing up the smaller pieces of timber and opening the front door.

It wasn’t long until the fire was blazing and Charlee was opening the windows to balance the warmth of the cabin. Two hours later, the call came in. Caleb was alive. And that’s all the good news they were given.

Eighty-seven days after Caleb’s accident, Miah was informed he could make preparations to bring Caleb home. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but what in life ever was? Miah focused his attention on the lake, fog rolling off the water, low clouds surrounding the top of McKinley Mountain. He’d hiked it multiple times. All the McKinley boys had, including Caleb. At the hospital in Tampa where Caleb had spent the last three months, they’d talked about hiking it again one day. Miah had no idea if Caleb would ever be able to do it, and that thought alone brought the tears he’d kept at bay until now. He swiped the back of his hand over his eyes and looked down at the letter in his grasp. Clearing his throat, he began to read.

Dear Dad,

I should have been keeping you up to date on what’s going on here. Caleb is doing better, but still not a hundred percent. Christmas came and went and Charlee and I spent more time in hospital waiting rooms than we did at home. Caleb’s still at Tampa. He has therapy daily. Multiple times throughout the day, in fact. And for being in a hospital, they sure keep him occupied.

He’s had a brain injury, Dad. The first time I saw him, I felt my chest caving in on me. And it made me realize how hard it must be to be a father and watch your child hurting. But don’t worry, Dad. I’m going to take care of Caleb. No matter what. I’m splitting my time between Tampa and the lodge right now. When I’m there, I sit for long hours and think about all the things that need to be done at the lodge. When I’m home, I work around the clock making a safe place for Caleb. We’ll be okay, Dad. I swear.

Love, Jeremiah

Miah folded the page and dropped it onto the fire. He could feel the gravel in his eyes from a late night after too little sleep and a long drive from Tampa. But in a week, he’d bring Caleb home. The edge of his letter caught after a billow of smoke slithered over the page. Miah rubbed his hands on his face, trying to wake up. In a couple hours, he had an important meeting.

The hospital in River Rock was a small facility compared to the center in Tampa. Jeremiah’d come here after a shower and shot of coffee. A fresh wave of anxiety hit as he waited for the nurse. He’d scheduled an appointment with her once he knew he could bring Caleb home. Between his fingers, he rolled the pamphlet on traumatic brain injuries, nerves—a constant companion for him these days—getting the better of him. He’d read a thousand of these little leaflets and could probably write one himself now. After three months, he’d have thought he’d be used to this. But one never really got used to planning and executing things one should never have to for his baby brother. He thought back over the months. Seeing Caleb for the first time, head half shaved, swollen, bruised. Miah choked back the tightness in his throat and curled the paper a little tighter.

The woman sitting across from him was a kind head nurse named Jamille. She ran the physical and occupational therapy departments of the facility. Smiles, looks of sympathy and sorrow crossed her face at specific times as he’d explained Caleb’s situation to her and the reason for his visit.

She spoke. “I think at-home care would be in order. The problem will be finding someone qualified for the therapy he’ll need.”

There was someone qualified, and he’d learned that little tidbit of information from his sister. “I was hoping maybe an occupational therapist working here might be interested in picking up some extra work.”

She leaned her forearms on the desk, her left getting stuck on a manila folder. There were a few dozen more like it littering her desk. She shook loose from the file. “They told us automated was the way to go for our records. All on computer, it’ll be so much easier, they said. Now I have twice the paperwork and none of the help doing it.”

Miah offered as much of a smile as he could muster. “Has anyone asked about extra work?”

Gray worked part time here, from what Charlee had told him, so his inquiry wasn’t completely without some foreknowledge. He even felt a little bad about not going directly to the source, but the way Gray had acted when they’d run into one another didn’t really suggest a desire to reconnect. But things were different now. He needed her. He needed someone. She fit the bill and whether she wanted to admit it or not, making a living on a part-time wage couldn’t be easy.

Jamille shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone here at the hospital who’s looking for more work. Have you tried an agency in Laver?”

“No, ma’am. I was really hoping you might know of someone local.” He leaned forward in the stiff chair and shot her his best smile. “Please. If you can think of anyone. Anyone at all.” One blink. Two.

The older woman stopped breathing, brows rising, eyes widening just a slight bit.

Oh yeah. He had her.

Then all the air left her lungs and she leaned out of his trajectory and shrugged. “Wish to heaven I could help you, but . . .” The shrug again.

Huh. He must be losing his touch. “Sorry for wasting your time.” Miah stood and even he could sense the desperation he oozed. He stepped to the door, fighting that sense of hopelessness that continually threatened to take him. He dropped his head. “It’s just that it’s my baby brother.” He practically whispered the words because even now, it was hard, no, nearly impossible, to talk about this stuff.

“How long has he been at Tampa?”

She came around the desk and took hold of Miah’s arm as he was pre
paring to open the door to leave. This had been a mistake. “Three months.”

She motioned for him to sit back down. When he did, she propped her weight on the edge of her desk, a half grin on her face. “I’ve got one girl.”

Miah’s gaze shot up from the pamphlet about therapy to meet her eyes.

“She’s PRN, meaning she works here as needed, which sadly hasn’t been that much. But I’m fairly certain she won’t be interested. She’s putting her house up for sale and . . .”

Her house? Nana’s house? Charlee had told him she’d been working on it and he’d driven by several times when he’d stuck his head up out of his own renovation project, but for sale? “She’s leaving?”

“Seems like. Said she’d planned to stay, but things hadn’t gone too well. There are OT jobs in every bigger city around here, just not here.”

“Would it be okay to contact her?”

She moved around the desk. “I can’t give you any information, but . . .” She looked him up and down. “Let me see what I can do.”

Within moments she’d clicked away on the computer and had the desk phone at her ear.

This was even better than he’d hoped. He knew he needed a professional recommendation to get past whatever roadblock Gray was hauling around with her.

“I have a gentleman in my office who needs to hire an OT. Wondered if you may be interested?”

She winked at Miah and nodded.

“It’s local. No, it wouldn’t affect your PRN status. He’s assured me he will work with your hospital schedule.” Her brows rose high on her head in question.

Miah nodded with vigor and mouthed, “Absolutely.”