Riding the Thunder (27 page)

“Me? I'm new at this cat business.” He laughed. “Silly beast. He must've crawled in there when Liam and I were carrying on the food and beer and gassing up the boat.”

Asha shook her head. “Well, hie yourself off and go help gather wood. I'm sure your cat is as hungry as I am. He hasn't eaten anything in a couple hours.”

Going down into the small, but luxurious cabin, Asha headed to the built-in refrigerator for a can of Pepsi. Popping the top, she took a deep drink to kill her thirst. Prickles tickling the back of her neck, she knew Jago had followed her. Even so, her heart skipped a beat when she
turned and saw he blocked the doorway. He had that hungry tiger grin on his face again.

“This damn boat is a male's wet dream,” he said. “You have the entertainment center, refrigerator, and head within arm's reach of the bed. You and I are going to have to gag your brother and kidnap this boat. ‘Counting' on a boat could be a lot of fun,” he kidded.

“Could be, but if your nameless cat sprays anything, Liam will have a hissy fit.”

Jago tilted his head in playful calculation. “Hmm . . . but maybe if my cat damages his precious toy, he'll sell it to me.”

“There you go. Of course, you could buy your own boat. Crownline does make more.”

“Oh yeah, that's the ticket—one longer and with three times the bells and whistles.” Ducking, he came down the steps. “It wouldn't be half the fun if it didn't make Liam pea green with envy.”

She sniggered and lifted her soda in salute. “Want a Pepsi or a beer? One-up-manship is thirsty work.”

Removing the can from her hand, he sat it in the sink. He then reached out and took her waist, pulling her against him. “What I want is
you
. I can't stop craving you.”

Jago's mouth covered hers, taking it with the same raw passion that had pushed them this morning. All the desire, all the grinding sensations came roaring back one hundredfold. Pure agony. Pure rapture. And Asha couldn't get enough. Her hands clung to his back, digging her fingers into the strong muscles, tasting him, yearning for him until it was sheer madness.

The boat rocked as heavy-footed Liam landed on the deck. “Hey, Puss, didn't know you came along,” they heard him say.

Jago broke the kiss, but still held her tightly to him. “Can we bolt the door and do a
one-two-three . . . cha cha cha
? It might save my sanity.”

“Hey, down there. You guys coming?” Liam called.

Jago groaned, then laughter rumbled in his chest. “
This
guy sure the hell is trying.”

A last kiss to his neck, Asha sighed and stepped back. Picking up the Pepsi, she took a big drink and then pressed the cold can to her forehead. “Suck it up, Sexy Lips. Let's go feed me lunch, and then we can see about drowning him in the lock.”

Asha moaned, eating her third marshmallow. It was slightly charred, just the way she loved them. She didn't really have room for another, but it had been a long time since she'd had marshmallows toasted over an open flame. “I'm not sure, but I think food tastes better cooked over a fire the way our ancestors used to do it.”

They'd roasted large chunks of steak in the kebobs, and eaten the delicious meat with potato salad, slaw and baked beans they'd brought. Now as the afternoon slipped away, they toasted the treats and just enjoyed the soothing sound of the falls.

Jago took the other marshmallow off his skewer. “I didn't know anyone liked theirs incinerated like I do.”

“Yeppers, toasty is not nearly enough.”

Liam handed one—not charred—to Netta. “Someone needs to nudge that cat and see if he's still alive.”

What's His Name had romped in the sand while they fixed lunch, and then he'd eaten his share of the steak before passing out on the edge of the blanket. Jago reached over and ruffled his fur, but the silly thing didn't move. “Guess I'll have to get him a kitty life jacket if he wants to keep riding in the boat. They do make them.”

“Oh, he'll love that . . .
not!
” Asha laughed, taking his hand and rising. “Come on. There's just enough time to go see the lock before we have to leave.”

Netta reached for another marshmallow. “You sugarplums run along and go see the dam. I'm staying here and sticking my tootsies in the sand. I'm as close as I want to be to that scary thing.”

Asha suddenly felt strange, that odd time slippage pushing in on her thoughts again. She now recalled a fragment
of Laura Valmont's memory of coming to the beach with Tommy for a group cookout, how they'd shared their first kiss under the old bell tower. The image of Laura—so pretty, in bright pink pedal pushers and a white cotton blouse—seemed so vivid, and for an instant the vision of Tommy was nearly as sharp as Jago. The two images blended and separated within her mind, and she saw how much Tommy's eyes were like Jago's. His were darker, but both pairs were very green and held the same incisive intelligence.

Auld souls
. Jago had said that to her in The Windmill as they slow-danced to Dionne Warwick.

Holding hands, they climbed the path up the small hill to what once had been picnic grounds near the lockmaster's house. Over to one side there was still a dilapidated table. The falls were even more deafening up here. Asha looked down on the flattened area of concrete, which ran the length of the immense structure. Once it had been solid: now it was breaking into sections, cracking badly. The mortar wasn't even gray any longer, but a dirty brown from the last two floods that had gotten up over the whole area. A notice painted on the concrete warning to stay off the complex, no trespassing, was now faded and mostly covered in silt. She pondered what the state would do, when and if the dam gave way. Lexington and the surrounding towns drew millions of gallons of water from the river. It didn't take an engineer to see that the locks really needed replacing. The past summer already saw water rationing hitting the larger towns. What if the locks weren't repaired or replaced? Would another big flood wash away the weir? Endless questions arose as she stood with Jago watching the water churn.

Jago gave her a contemplative smile as he stared at the concrete structure. “I have to admit Netta is right. It's crumbling and not very attractive.” He almost had to yell to be heard over the falls. “Yet there's something unique, special about this place.”

Asha nodded. “I'm glad you like it. I always have. I don't
come often, but I have pleasant childhood memories of my brothers and sisters, my parents, back before their divorce.”

The falls kicked up a thick spray, the breeze picking up the moisture and swirling it about them. Droplets clung to Jago's black curls. In a brilliant shard of time, the sun crested just over the tree line of the ridge, refracting through the mist to create a rainbow to arch just behind him. She didn't need that bit of Elfin magic to know how precious Jago was to her. She was glad of the mist for it hid the tears that came to her eyes.

She bit back words yearning to be set free, to let him know how deeply he touched her heart, how quickly he'd become a part of her life, her soul. Only, she was still too unsure how he would accept the words . . . if he would accept them. Would he believe her? People said I love you too frequently, devalued its importance.

Foolishly, she'd once thought she loved Justin. Now she saw she had loved the idea of being in love. Her pride had been stung over the breakup, and ridiculously she'd permitted the incident to cause her ego and self-confidence to suffer. As she stared at the handsome man, sharing the simple pleasure of the lock, she knew beyond doubt, she'd never experienced what he brought her.

“What's that?” He pointed to the tall A-frame structure at the pinnacle of the hill behind them.

“The bell tower.” She tugged on his hand leading him toward it, aware that was the spot Tommy had first kissed Laura, the recollection strong in her consciousness.

Sadly, the fifteen-foot tower was now neglected, same as all the support and maintenance areas of the whole complex. Benches had been built into either side of the open A-frame, where people could sit and wait for the lockmaster. She explained, “Anyone wanting to be locked through, landed and rang the bell, and eventually the lockmaster came and would start the locking process. People going downriver would pull in, then the water would lower and the gates opened on that level. Those coming upriver entered
and had to wait while the lock filled. I can recall swimming here and having to get out while the barges were passing through, how dangerous the water was rushing from—”

Asha caught herself. She realized she'd never seen a barge locking through.
But Laura had
. Jago never said a word. Even so, she saw comprehension in his eyes. She wondered if he felt any of the past that swirled about them like the mist conjured by the falls. The air was so laden with moisture; it beat down upon them like rain, mixing with the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

He pulled her to him, kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead and each eyelid in turn, in a quiet desperation that touched her soul. Then his mouth claimed hers again, this time with searing passion, and something gentler: the rare, elusive power of love—their love and Tommy and Laura's. He backed her against a rounded column of the tower and kissed her.

The beauty, the poignancy lanced her heart.

Suddenly the bell rang out, causing them to break apart. Curious, they glanced up, wondering what had set the old metal clapper to sounding. The pull-rope had long ago broken off, dry-rotted with age and exposure; someone would have to stand on the bench to reach it. Looking at the wooden planks, it was doubtful they would hold weight. The breeze was not strong enough to move the heavy bell.

Shaking his head in perplexity, Jago turned her to face the waterfall. He locked his arms about her, flexed his strong muscles and pulled her back tightly against his chest. For several minutes they just stood like that, him rubbing his cheek against the side of her head. Swaying slightly, they soaked up the contentment of being with each other, and just enjoyed the sound of the falls.

“What's on the other side?” He leaned his head, his mouth next to her ear and nodded toward the cliffs of the far bank. “Up there?” His tone was casual, but she picked up a sense of quiet purpose within the words.

“Just the cliffs. Men often get dropped there, so they can fish from the ledges. Others tie up where we did and then walk across the waterfall.”

“You're kidding. What madness is that?”

“Crossing as you see it now, you'd be swept over. It'd be a miracle if you didn't die. However, during summer the water often gets so low you see the riverbed on the upper pool. I've seen it where the bottom is showing about a third of the way from this shore. When it gets like that, there's no flow over the weir. No falls. There's a service path, a lip along the front of it; you can easily cross then. Sometimes, men are foolish enough to walk that with the water running high. But with the force of that water—millions of gallons a day—you don't play with it.”

“What's behind the cliffs?”

“A forest.”

“And beyond the forest?”

“Farmland along Highway 27. I should imagine that's near the Buena Vista turnoff.”

“Bue-nah viztah? Don't you mean bwe-nah vees-tah,” he teased about the way the locals pronounced names.

She smiled. “I was here visiting mum once at the lodge, and they had tornado warnings on the radio. The announcer was new to the area, and he gave the alarm for Garrod County, with the normal French pronunciation. The DJ came on and said to tell them it was Gar-rod County, with the hard G sound, or they wouldn't know it was for them.”

“Okay, so what does being near Bue-nah Vista have to do with what I asked?”

“We followed the river coming to the lock. It snakes around and around, miles to ride down, but not that far as the crow flies. That's one of the highest peaks in the area, hence the name. You can see the river in the distance from the highway, right there at the turn off. If I recall correctly, farms are there.”

“Then you wouldn't have much trouble getting up there on that last knoll before the cliffs?”

“You'd have to walk through the woods.” Asha turned to look over her shoulder at him. “Why? You're thinking of buying that, too?”

“Now, be nice.” He shrugged. “I noticed a reflection up there. A flash. I wondered what was up there, how easily you can access it.”

“A reflection?”

He nodded faintly. He stayed, holding her in the embrace, watching the river. After a couple minutes, he said, “There.”

Asha had to blink the tears from her eyes to spot it—a hard glare, like off a glass or a mirror, right at the crest of the woods. Since the afternoon sun was setting behind the cliffs, she started to use her hand to block the harsh light to see better. Jago caught her hand, preventing her from lifting it.

“Don't.” His quiet tone was making her uneasy.

It could be anyone—a hiker, a farmer, even someone camping. With the woods and river undeveloped, it drew people hiking or canoeing. As she followed Jago down the path to the beach to pack up and leave, she pondered why she had the feeling whoever was up there was none of those things.

As Asha walked down the center isle between the booths of the restaurant, Melvin Johnson called to her over the Wednesday breakfast clatter.

“Hey, Asha, what the hell
is
that?” Using his fork he pointed at Sam who fed the fat cat on the glassed-in porch. “Did you get Sam a new combination garbage disposal and dishwasher?” Everyone joined Melvin in a good laugh.

“I think the thing has declared himself The Windmill's official mascot, though he's really Jago's cat,” she answered, pulling a small strip of clear tape from the dispenser she carried.