Small-Town Dreams (12 page)

Today, in fact.

And this time she’d make him listen to her. If she had to tie him up and gag him, he’d listen!

By the time Mountain View came into sight, Cassie’s mood had ebbed and flowed from negative to positive more than a dozen times. The somber gray sky of Philadelphia had followed her. But she kept going. As her grandfather said when she’d called him to tell him she was leaving, she had nothing to lose.

She pulled into the parking lot in front of the café and got out before she could change her mind again. With so many emotions bombarding her, it surprised Cassie that a feeling of coming home won out over all the rest, as soon as she opened the door and saw Irma behind the counter.

She sighed. She was home.

Irma looked up and squealed. “Cassie! Oh, I can’t believe you’re here.”

Cassie barreled ahead and plopped herself down at the counter in front of Irma. “Neither can I. But I had to come. I have to make him see reason. Where is he? I’d better see him before I lose my nerve again.”

“He’s not here. He went up to Henry’s retreat cabin, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go up there. It takes Joshua well over two hours to get up there, and he’s an experienced hiker.”

“Irma, I don’t care if it takes me six. I have to do something. I can’t stand this anymore.”

“You can stand anything if you lean on the Lord. You know I don’t agree with what Joshua’s doing, but he believes he’s doing what God would have him do.”

“Believe me, I have been relying on Him. And until this morning He was sustaining me, but today it’s as if He’s not talking to me. I’d even started painting again. But this morning I did a painting and it had Josh’s eyes. They were so sad and in so much pain. I have to make him see reason. I know I can do it.”

“Even if you could follow the trail and hike in that far, by the time you get there you’d have to stay the night. It just wouldn’t be right. Why not stay with us tonight and start out in the morning?”

“First of all, it would probably take me all night just to get him to see my perspective on this. Irma, I have to see him. Please, just tell me how to get there.”

“Cassie, it feels like snow. They’re only calling for flurries, and we don’t usually get more than a few inches at most this early on, but it could make for slippery trails.”

Snow. Until Joshua had told her there was no hope for them, she’d thought nothing could strike fear into her heart the way that white menace could. Cassie sucked up her courage. “If I slip, I’ll just get up. I’m going. I know where the trail starts, but it would make it easier if I had some idea where I’m going and where to look for his markers.”

“And I thought
he
was stubborn. You two are a pair.” Irma shook her head and grabbed a paper place mat. She slapped it on the counter, blank side up, then pinned Cassie with a sharp look. “You make him listen to reason. You hear me?”

Cassie smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Then Irma started to draw a crude map.

Twenty minutes later, wearing a bright orange vest, a pair of warmer socks and Irma’s hiking boots, Cassie was off. She moved upward following the meandering trail that wound left, then right, and occasionally even backtracked to avoid a deep section of a stream or steep-sided gully.

For the first hour, she managed to enjoy nature in its most stark season, while she rehearsed what she hoped were the right words to say to Josh. She prayed for those words, as well.

Then the flurries started, and in minutes the trail did get slippery. Cassie was surprised and a little frightened by the density of the flurries. In Philadelphia, snow of this magnitude would have been called a snowstorm.

She thought she’d gone about a mile or two farther when the wind picked up, blowing the wet snowflakes against the trees. Half an hour later, Cassie stopped short and dusted off an arrow-shaped sign that she’d almost missed because it was obscured by the thick coating of white.

Then the unthinkable happened. A wind gust tore the map from her hand, and the paper disappeared into a sea of white. She tried to find it off the trail, but it was gone.

Her heart began to pound with fear rather than exertion, and Cassie stopped, took a deep breath and sought strength in her newly found faith.
Dear Lord, keep me safe and show me the way. Hold me in the palm of Your hand and give me Your peace.

Cassie felt that peace even as she looked around and realized that, if anything, the snow was coming down harder. She found the trail again and pushed on, picking up her pace even though she slipped more often. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the forecasted flurries had gone from storm to blizzard.

She was in the middle of her worst nightmare. It had been snowing steadily for nearly two hours, and if she didn’t hurry, the next signpost could be totally obscured.

When she came to a deep ravine some time later, she realized she must, indeed, have missed a marker. So she backtracked, praying all the while for guidance, and found the sign she’d missed. The nearly obliterated trail lead straight up from there.

It was rough going, but she grabbed for branches and shrubs and scrambled upward. The steep trail lead to a meadow, but there was no cabin in sight. Cassie looked around again, trying to peer through the snow and dense woodlands for any evidence of a structure. A gust of wind almost knocked her over, but then the wind calmed. She was near the cabin. She had to be.

“Joshua!” she called out, hoping against hope that he’d hear her. But only the howling wind called back. She called Josh’s name several more times, then stopped to listen. She thought she heard the deep
woof
of a dog. “Bear? Bear! Come on, boy! Where are you?”

Cassie shielded her eyes, trying to peer through the blowing snow. Suddenly she saw a huge black animal wearing what looked like an orange saddle burst into the clearing. He was running toward her at full clip, and she was so glad to see him that she didn’t care if he knocked her down when he reached her.

But instead, he jerked to a stop almost immediately and yelped. Cassie ran for him, realizing that his bright green leash had caught on a stump at the edge of the woods. The fear that came over her made no sense. She had to be close to the cabin—so she was safe, right? But Bear’s frantic barking as he strained against his confining tether only cranked up her feeling of dread.

Where was Josh?

“Hey there, boy, what are you doing running around in the woods like this?” she asked as she bent down and freed the leash from its anchor on a small stump. A second later Cassie was glad she hadn’t simply taken the leash off him—he immediately took off into the woods with her in tow.

It was tough going since Bear didn’t bother with a trail, and Cassie’s sense of urgency grew with the dog’s. They were at the rustic cabin in minutes. And still, for all Bear’s noise, Josh didn’t emerge from the open door of the cabin.

She dropped the leash, and Bear exploded across the clearing and into the cabin. Then he came tearing back out and ran toward her. Cassie knew for sure then that something was wrong.

She found the trail of blood as she crossed the porch. But still, she never thought she’d find what she did. She thought that at worst he’d cut himself on a knife or an ax. She never thought she’d find him crumpled just inside the door in a pool of blood.

“Josh,” Cassie gasped, and dropped to the floor next to him. She bit her lip. He was so still. He lay on his side, his hair falling over his eyes. There was so much blood, she couldn’t tell where he was injured. Afraid to touch him—afraid not to—she reached a shaking hand out and gently pushed the thick wave of black hair off his forehead. “Josh. Can you hear me? Come on. Wake up. Please,” she begged.

J
osh heard the miracle of Cassie’s voice and felt the pain of her tears—tears he’d caused her to shed by letting her fall in love with him. Then the meaning of her words crystallized, but still made no sense.

Through an ocean of pain, questions bombarded him. Why was he sleeping? Why was the bed so hard? Why was he so cold? He couldn’t come up with any answers without forcing his eyelids open.

It took a few seconds to focus on the wooden floor inches from his nose. Then reality crashed in on him. The sound of the gunshot. Crawling across the clearing. Pain. Bear all but dragging him up the steps and across the porch. Now he was on the floor of the cabin, lying on his side, using his arm and shoulder as a pillow.

He looked up and saw Cassie bent over him. Josh blinked—but she was still there. He hadn’t been dreaming this time. How could Cassie be here? “Cassie? Is that really you?”

She nodded. “It’s me, Josh.”

“How?”

“Never mind about that now. Where’s all the blood coming from? I haven’t had the courage to look.”

“Left leg.” He reached out and gripped the hand she caressed his shoulder with. He was as weak as a kitten. He forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, praying for strength and deliverance from the torture in his leg. He didn’t want to pass out when Cassie already looked so frightened and he had an even scarier truth to tell her. “It’s a gunshot wound, sweetheart.”

She went positively pale. “Who would shoot you?”

A gust of wind blew cold and snow into the cabin before he could answer. Josh shivered and his muscles tightened. Pain sliced through him and left him gasping for breath and grasping at consciousness. His mind began to dim, and he squeezed her hand. Forcing his breathing to stay even, he stared up at her beloved features. Bear pushed by Cassie then and tried to lick his face, but with surprising strength she pushed the huge dog back and sharply ordered him to sit. He whimpered but obeyed.

Josh didn’t even realize he’d betrayed the agony that blast of cold had caused until her soft fingertips tried to smooth the grimace from his face.

“I know you’re in terrible pain, but you have to move so we can get that door closed,” she told him, and he could hear the fear in her voice.

“I crawled here from the edge of the woods. I don’t think I can get any farther,” he explained, then shivered again. “I’m so cold.”

Cassie took his chin in her hand, her gaze strong and determined. He could see that the smile she tried to give him was forced, but it was also incredibly brave.

“We’ll figure it out.” She looked around, then pushed herself to her feet.

Josh lay there, his back to the room, listening to a lot of rustling and scuffing. He tried to look over his shoulder, but the hot jolt of pain even that small movement caused in his leg wasn’t worth it. He lay his spinning head back down on his arm and prayed for help. And he wasn’t fussy. He’d take any kind the good Lord wanted to send. Somehow He’d already sent Cassie.

A few minutes later, she dragged the big braided rug from in front of the fireplace over next to him. His clouded brain just couldn’t figure out what she planned to do with it, but he didn’t need to wonder long.

“I need you to help me get you onto the rug,” she told him. “Just far enough so I can drag you over in front of the fireplace.”

Move again? He really didn’t think so. Not and stay conscious. “Uh, Cassie…I left out one small problem with moving. I think the bullet broke my thigh bone.”

“Then I’d better find a way to splint it, hadn’t I?” Her smile was gentle, but again he saw anxiety in her eyes.

Josh nodded.

She was back with a pair of old ski poles that had been crossed over the bedroom door and some strips of material. She worked fast, first measuring the poles against his leg. “I hope these aren’t antiques,” she said, then anchored one end under her boot and snapped it off before he could muster the strength to answer.

He knew the way she felt about antiques after giving her the tour of the Swenson place. He actually felt a smile tip his lips. He loved teasing her. After she broke the second one, he said with what he considered impeccable timing, “Bamboo poles are probably considered antiques.”

“Now he tells me,” she muttered as she worked. First she wrapped adhesive tape around the splintered ends, then she carefully lashed the poles to his calf and ankle. “I’m going to have to move your leg to straighten your knee a little. I’m sorry.”

The last thought he had before waking in front of a crackling fire was that he’d been wrong while pulling himself across the porch. The pain actually could get worse!

Cassie was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

“Hi,” she said. Her eyes were the color the sky had been that morning—an almost smoky blue-gray.

He glanced at the fire. “You had to get me here all on your own? I was no help at all, was I?”

“My back may never be the same,” she joked, then she sobered and squeezed his hand.

He hadn’t even realized she was holding it. “The leg
is
broken. I think badly. It looks awful. I tried to clean the wound and I managed somehow to get the bleeding stopped, but you need real medical attention. They don’t show the kind of damage a bullet does on the news or in movies.” Her hand tightened in his. “I’m scared for you, Josh.”

“I’m fine. It isn’t so bad,” he lied. The pain had subsided a little, and he fought to control the rest. It was nothing he couldn’t handle—with the help of the Lord.

“No, you aren’t fine. And we’re miles from help. I’m going to have to leave you alone with Bear and walk down the mountain.”

Josh listened to the wind howling and the snow hitting against the windowpanes. The thought of her out there battling nature—and her fear—was more than he could stand. “Not till morning. It’s too dangerous now.” He reached up and touched her cheek. “After being in that avalanche with your parents when they were killed, you must have been terrified coming up here.”

“I thought I was. Then I walked into this cabin and found you bleeding all over the floor. That was true terror.”

“Whatever possessed you to hike up here in this kind of snow?”

“This, my dear man, is only supposed to be flurries. And
snow
is too tame a word for horizontal snow. Where I come from this is a
blizzard.
”

“It’s a blizzard here, too. Too bad it didn’t start an hour sooner. You’d have been safe at Irma’s, and I might not have been shot.”

Her gaze flicked to his leg, then back to his face. “Who shot you, Josh?”

“A hunter named Buck.” He took a deep breath. “That’s all I know.” He told her about the man whose voice he’d heard. “So I assume he thought the dog was a bear. It’s not the first time some over-anxious idiot has taken a shot at Bear. I was standing next to him, or he’d probably be dead.” He shivered and glanced at the roaring fire she’d built. How could he still be so cold? “Could you get me another blanket from the chest at the bottom of the bed?”

Cassie frowned and put her hand on his forehead. It felt soft and cool. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize the feel of her, the smell of her so close. He knew it was wrong, but he loved her. And right then he was just too weak to fight her and his feelings.

“Why, Cassie?” he asked, needing to know she was there because of him. “Why are you here?”

“I came here to convince you that you were wrong about us. We belong together, Josh.”

He frowned and opened his eyes. “I tried to explain.”

“And I say your explanation is off. Your thinking is off.” She wiped his face with a cool, damp cloth, her gentle touch belying the intensity of her voice.

“I never meant to hurt you, but I have to do what’s right.”

“But you’re wrong about what’s right, Josh. Your exact situation might not be in the Bible, but the spirit of it is. If you took a vow to that woman, it was till death do you part. You were right about that. But what you don’t seem to grasp is that the man you once were died on that road where Irma and Henry found you. You’ve as much as said that yourself. You were born the day you woke up in the hospital. Your mind was almost a clean slate, just like a baby’s. You were a new person.”

“I—” He stopped. Looking into her beloved face, he couldn’t seem to come up with a rebuttal. His mind had been nearly blank. Maybe he
had
been wrong, or maybe he was just tired of the loneliness. All he knew was that if he never saw another day, he’d die happy because Cassie was with him now.

He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. All I know is that I love you so much it hurts. And that I’m confused. That’s why I came up here. To think. Henry and Irma think my past was taken by God to give me a new life. I don’t know. Maybe that woman in the photo was killed. Losing any memory of her would take away my grief.”

“That makes sense.”

“But what if she’s not dead? And we make a life together. She could find me. Or I could remember her. Someone would be hurt. Maybe both of you.”

Cassie shook her head. “Okay. Suppose she did find you but you still don’t remember her. Do you think she’d want you back? I can tell you, I’d never continue living with a man who had no clue who I was. Who was a completely different person from the one I married. Frankly, I’d find living under those conditions impossible.”

He had no comment at first. He wasn’t a woman so he couldn’t begin to address how a woman would feel. But then he considered how
he’d
feel. And then all he could do was stare at her—this wise woman he loved. He couldn’t give her much, but he could give her the truth. “Truth be told, I’d find it pretty uncomfortable, too.”

She looked away, twisting her hands the way he’d seen her do once before when they talked about this—when she’d brought up a theory she thought might hurt him. He reached over and covered those anxious hands, hoping to reassure her. “Say anything you think needs saying. I love you. Just you. That hasn’t changed. I don’t think it ever will.”

Cassie nodded and bit her lip. “Josh, she hasn’t looked for you. To me that means that there was something wrong between you before you disappeared from her life. What makes you think she’d even talk to you if you found her, let alone pick up the marriage—if there was one—where it left off?”

“Yeah. There is that.” He wondered what she’d make of his other worry. The one he hadn’t shared with anyone. “Suppose I did something unforgivable, and He took away my life as punishment?”

“That doesn’t sound like the God you introduced to me at all.”

He wondered how she’d come to understand so much about the nature of God so quickly. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

“Then we have to go on the supposition that Irma and Henry are right. You’re no longer bound by your old life. You can spend this life with whomever you choose. I’d like that person to be me.”

“Me, too,” Josh agreed. Then exhaustion seemed to descend upon him like a blanket. He shook, cold again in spite of the extra quilt Cassie had gotten him. “Cold,” he said, and was surprised at how weak his voice sounded.

His whole body suddenly felt like lead.

Cassie was afraid. Not of the wind that had not stopped, nor of the snow that continued to fall as day became night. She was terrified of losing Josh. She’d come to realize that he was right. It would be suicide to try reaching town in the storm. But that didn’t change the fact that he needed help.

Losing him to principles—misguided or not—had been one thing. She’d have known he was out there somewhere with his quick smile and big brown eyes, living a life of service to God. But she didn’t think she’d survive if he died in her arms before morning.

At first he’d been suffering hypothermia, his temperature shockingly low, but she’d managed to get him warm. Now, however, she fought a foe she couldn’t conquer with warm fires and blankets. She fought infection, and she was powerless against it. So she battled the symptom—a fever that raged in his body. But it was a fever that all her cool cloths didn’t calm and that aspirin didn’t lower.

“You should get some sleep,” Josh said, awake again, his throat dry, his voice scratchy and weak.

In the past several hours, he’d drifted in and out, sometimes making sense and other times rambling about his early days in a hospital where everything and everyone was frightening and strange. She decided, in the few moments when the present did not consume her thoughts, that this above all else proved his past had been erased forever by God’s hand.

The Lord in his infinite wisdom had given Josh a new life. Now all she had to do was convince him to live it to its fullest, because she refused to consider the possibility that his new life was at an end.

“Sleep?” she asked as she bathed his handsome face. “That would waste this opportunity to get in practice.”

“Practice for what?”

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his parched lips. “For all those nights when I won’t be able to sleep later on.”

“What nights?” he asked.

He looked so endearingly confused that she almost relented, wondering briefly if it was fair to outthink a man whose brain was on fire. What was the old saying?
All’s fair in love and war.
Well, she was at war for their love. “The nights when our babies keep us awake. Little Throckmorton with his colic. Tiny Upsadelia when she’s teething.”