Love Me: The Complete Series (80 page)

The road to the cabin was easy to miss. The simple dirt path that cut through the trees could easily be mistaken for a cattle trail, except for the gate and mailbox. She wondered how long it had been since that gate was closed. Vines had covered its rusted hinges and anchored it against the trees behind. Not much use for preventing access.

She bumped over the trail and stopped in front of the cabin. How long had it been since she’d seen the inside? Three years? No, five? She wasn’t sure.

Caroline prayed her father didn’t have any Internet access inside and hadn’t used his phone. How many men his age actually used social media anyway? She’d just explain what happened, and they’d laugh it off and forget. The last thing she wanted was to piss him off and make him leave. Again.

She creaked the door on her vehicle shut and stepped carefully toward the door, avoiding roots and weeds. “Dad?”

Bam.
The wind gushed from her stomach in one burst as she was body-slammed to the dust.

“Found you. Found you. Found you,” a gleeful voice shouted against the back of her head. Huh? She wasn’t exactly hiding. The taste of dirt filled her mouth and gritted against her teeth and lips. What the hell?

A heavy weight covered her body. She couldn’t move—couldn’t even see. Her face was crushed into the ground. This man accosting her was big, but boney and ... shaking.

Caroline kicked her feet and tried to dislodge him. She gained a little ground and turned to get a glimpse.

The man continued to chant.
Found you, found you, found you.
Gray hair, blue eyes that glinted in a not-completely-
Deliverance
way, and a camouflage shirt. Hmmm. Okay, the shirt was a little scary, but otherwise he was just an old man. Of course, even old men could be dangerous. In fact, if she thought about it, a lot of criminals actually turned out to
be
old men.

What should she do? She was alone. Her father hadn’t answered her call, and it was doubtful anyone else could hear her. She stared at the face for a couple beats. She had two choices, fight or surrender. Flight was out of the question with his bulk cementing her to the ground. The chanting grated; it was beyond annoying. She shoved her fear away and yelled, “STOP.”

His craggy hands fell to his sides, and the man’s eyes shuttered with calm. Like a child who had just been chastised for messing the kitchen while baking cookies for his mother, he pouted. In a hushed voice, he said the words once more. “Found you.”

Had she hurt her captor’s feelings? Seriously? Who cared? “Okay, okay—you found me. Now what?”

Her lungs were exploding from his weight on top of her. He appeared to be seventy if not older, his skin craggy from sun and age. He had her pinned, but the look on his face showed little triumph. Her skin crawled as the sticks underneath her poked and scratched. If he tried anything further, curled up his fists, or even hinted at a weapon—she was pretty confident she could take him.

His eyes fluttered. “Love me?”

“Pops, get off her. You’ll crush the poor girl.” Caroline swiveled her head, knowing a mass of twigs and leaves were lodged within her tresses. Finally, a voice she recognized. That was ...

“Dad?”

“What brings you here in the middle of the day, sweetheart?” Her father seemed unconcerned with Rambo Senior straddling her midsection.

Oomph. Oomph. Her wind gushed as the man hopped on her stomach. Up. And. Down. With what little breath she had left, she shouted, “Can’t. Breathe!”

“Pops, get off! I’m sorry, honey, it’s a game he likes to play. It used to help him find his way home.”

The order was heeded immediately, and Caroline sucked in as much air as she could. She rolled to her knees and lifted herself upright. Still on her knees, she peered at her father’s shadow towering over them. “Mind introducing me to your kamikaze friend here first? Just in case I need to call the police or something. Or maybe an ambulance.”

Bob shrugged. “Pops, this is Caroline.”

The elderly man took her hand and pumped it almost as many times as he had chanted those monotonous words. She smiled weakly and worked her way back to full height. She twitched a leg in an attempt to remove the debris from her pants. Was that grass in her panties? Great. “Hi, Pops. Nice to meet you. What are you doing here? Are you a neighbor?”

Bob guffawed. “Not hardly. Come on, Caroline. You read my book, right? Look harder. Don’t you recognize him?”

She plopped curled fists on hips in challenge. “Excuse me, but it’s kind of hard to see when your eyes and nose are plastered in the dirt and you have a two-hundred pound chanting weight on your back.” Caroline turned to the old man and pulled herself back into politeness mode. She did recognize him now: he was the old man at the art show the other night. “I’m Caroline. Your name, sir?”

He wiped his hand on his pants and rocked to his toes. “R—R—Rick.” Clarity hit her like a brick. He was the man in her father’s book—Patient R. A war hero and decorated veteran with no memory of his past. Her mouth fell open, and she bounced her eyes between the two men. “It’s him? I mean—he’s him? He’s the patient you wrote about?”

Bob grinned in satisfaction. Was that because she actually
had
read the book, or something else? “Yep. There’s more, too.”

“You mean more than he likes to tackle complete strangers wherever he goes? Don’t think for a minute I’ve forgotten about the dog pile at the art sale.”

Her father bobbled his head like a ten-year-old with a secret. What could possibly top the fact that his father brought his research subject home? “He’s your grandfather.”

Roger was skeptical as he bopped down the trail. It was rustic, remote, and bumpy as hell. He prayed he didn’t tear up the bottom of his Land Rover. Was it a place to retreat or hide? Abby had referred to the area as a climber and hiker’s paradise, and looking through the thicket of trees, it made sense. Periodically a trailhead opened, and he’d get a glimpse of the ruggedness surrounding the cabin he was sure to find—eventually.

He rolled down the windows and breathed in the earthy scent of the forest. Voices reached him over the sound of the engine’s soft purr. Yelling. He surged forward and saw her car.

Then he saw her.

Caroline stood between her father and an older man, covered in dirt, leaves, and—was that a twig sticking out the back of her hair? What had happened?

Once he parked behind her car, he rushed to the group. She held out a hand to him, palm up. “I’m fine. So, grandfather? Really, Dad?”

Roger volleyed a look between the two. “Caroline, I saw—”

She lowered a brow and barked. “Haven’t gotten to that part yet, because apparently Pops here is my
grandfather.
Did you know that? Am I the only one who was clueless?”

Roger watched the old man’s face drain of color. Her expression could wilt a redwood.
Sucks to be you, old man.
“Nope, I wasn’t aware either. Nice to meet you, sir.”

The elderly gentleman responded eagerly to the handshake. His grip was solid but aggressive, and lingered more than was comfortable, pumping up and down repeatedly. “Nice to meet you.”

Odd. Not scary, but odd in the way one sees when they know the person isn’t necessarily as expected.

Introductions were made, and Bob ushered them all into the cabin. As Roger followed, he couldn’t help but pick sticks and leaves from Caroline’s hair and back. She shot him a frown, but he simply shrugged and continued. “You’re kind of growing back there.”

“You would be, too, if you’d been tackled by a two-hundred pound geriatric.”

Bob didn’t care for the insult. “Hey, watch it. You’re talking about a decorated war veteran. Mind your tongue and be respectful.”

The old man repeated, “Be respectful,” as he shuffled behind them. It became obvious that he was strong, yet aged and somewhat handicapped. An
injured
war veteran perhaps?

Roger was more clueless than her apparently. At least
she
knew the man’s story. “Really?”

Bob nodded. “Jacob Rickert, otherwise known as Patient R in my book, was lost after returning from Korea. My wife, Carol, had searched for him a few times, but it wasn’t until she was diagnosed with her first bout of cancer that we really took it seriously. I spent two years over there trying to figure out what had happened to him, only to find out he was
here
. He had sustained a head injury and was shipped home, but his dog tags were misplaced during all the surgeries. We located records that showed he’d been discharged to a mental hospital four hours away.

“We were relieved and went to get him, but he’d recently escaped and no one had any idea where he was. My Carol was fit to be tied. Her dad, a war hero, wandering around in the streets alone with no one to care for him. We didn’t sleep for days. She called every police station within five hours of the hospital. Oklahoma. Texas. She even called a couple in Louisiana, but the old bugger wasn’t any less a hero with half his mental capacities. He walked his ass all the way from that mental hospital to this damned cabin in the woods. Can you believe that? The man can’t remember a damn thing about his family or the war, but he found this house.
His
house.”

Roger felt his mouth fall. “Wow, that’s amazing. Was this his childhood home or something? I’ve heard sometimes we block out bad memories; maybe the war was too painful for him to remember.”

Bob’s eyes glittered. “Nope. I’d rather look at it a bit more romantically. He and his wife, my mother-in-law, lived here when first married. Actually, they didn’t really live here—they spent their honeymoon here. It was all they could afford; it was free. She bought the place years later and held onto it all this time. We put a lot of great memories into this place since then, haven’t we sweetheart?” He smiled Caroline’s way.

She nodded. Roger took in the glassy sheen of her eyes. What do you know? She was finally speechless and not because she was angry.

Roger nodded. “Like I said, that’s
amazing
.” He patted Mr. Rickert on the back. “Well done, soldier.”

The old man lifted a shaky hand and saluted Roger, then dropped into a chair by the window and watched the trees. He nodded and mumbled. “Yes, sir. Well done.”

Caroline finally spoke. “So that’s why you’ve stayed here since Mother died? You’re taking care of him?”

Bob measured her words carefully before responding. “Honey, I left to do my job when you were a kid, and it kept me away. Your mom was strong, and we managed well enough for the short run. We always knew it was temporary. But when your mother was sick, I chucked it all and came home. She had to find him. I wanted to be here but knew it was important, too. For some reason, I know this is crazy, but I thought if I could find her father I’d save her. She’d somehow find the will or strength to fight off the disease.”

Caroline put a hand to her hair and plucked another twig from the depths. “It was a disease of the body, not the heart.”

“I know, but hell, a man will do anything to save his own heart.” Bob followed Jacob’s eyes to the trees.

Caroline played with the hem of her shirt. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Bob focused on her movements. “Yes, I’m taking care of him, but I
stayed
to be with my family.”

“You mean him.”

“No, I mean you, kid. Put that in your damn blog.” His shoulders sagged.

As he watched this family reunion, Roger realized something that had never occurred to him before: Life’s passions and purposes are insignificant without people around you to share them. People live and die for that one elusive need. He watched Caroline’s face as she struggled to come to grip with her father’s announcement, and his heart burned.

Caroline drove home in a dust storm of confusion. She’d always envied what Roger had—a big family. Not necessarily
his
family, but any at all. Her mother had been the steady force in her life. She’d encouraged Caroline to go after her journalism career with gusto, and there’d never been an inkling of doubt that there’d be a home to visit should a problem arise.

Then she’d died, and all of Caroline’s certainty evaporated in a few months. Her father had appeared from the outside edges of the earth, and now she had a grandfather who was a war hero with a disability? She sat in the car with the engine off and stared at her place, her fingers clutching the wheel. What a strange world.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She turned and stared blindly through the glass. Roger? She rolled down the window. “You followed me home?”

He nodded, not one of those silly nods with his dimples in full bloom either. His eyes were filled with concern, wary of what she’d do or say. An incredible feeling of appreciation filled her—gladness that he was there. Not home or at work where he should be—but right there, staring at her and making her feel like she mattered. “Yeah, you’ve had a rough day, and I thought we might talk for a bit.”

“I really don’t want to discuss today.”

He pulled on her door and wiggled his fingers for her to take them. “Neither do I—so let’s talk photography. I have some pictures to show you.”

“Of what? Some woman’s toes or belly button?” She couldn’t help but make at least one jab.

He half-grinned to acknowledge her bravado then sobered. “Nope, let’s look at the ones from our park outing, okay?”

“You mean the day we nearly fell to our death from a tree?”

He shoved the door shut behind her and drew her fingers into his. “That’s the one.”

She wasn’t really in the mood for company but looking at a bunch of pictures sounded harmless. Plus her curiosity wouldn’t let her say no, so she shrugged and opened the door. “You should know I’m not the kind of person who likes to air dirty laundry, so don’t expect me to spill my guts to you. Again.”

He dropped her fingers and held up both hands. “No worries. I figure you spilled enough to the rest of the world on that blog of yours. You met your quota for the day. I might just hang around and watch the fallout, if that’s all right.”

Great. She rolled her shoulders and sighed. “This one’s going to stay with me for a while, isn’t it?”