The Lost and Found (27 page)

“I think it’d be sexy as heck. But, why… what made you decide you wanted to get one?”

Crimson blushed again, deeper this time. She looked down, not meeting his eyes. Josiah reached across the table, took her hand in his. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, then across her palm.

“Crimson,” he growled, gentle and smooth. “Why?”

Crimson Sage

JOSIAH’S LARGE, WORKED-ROUGHENED
hands held mine. I watched in fascination as he smoothed the surface of my skin with his.

“Why do you want to get a tattoo, Crimson?”

I looked up at him and was caught. Clearing my throat, which suddenly felt all raspy and dry, I shrugged lightly and shook my head. I wasn’t sure why it was hard for me to tell him. It wasn’t that big of a deal really. Finally I whispered, “You really think it would be sexy?”

“I do. But you don’t have to do that for me. You don’t. You’re perfect right now the way you are. Perfect.”

“I’m not doing it
for
you. But, maybe in a way, because of you.”

Josiah shook his head, his blue eyes trying to read my mind, to understand. I grinned at him and took a deep breath.

“You make me feel strong. I feel strong when I’m with you. Like I can face…
anything
. As long as you’re there.”

“So, this is about fear, then?”

“In part. More it’s about not letting fear control me.” I chuckled dryly. “I
hate
needles — I’m terrified of them. I want to face my fear. You give me the strength to do that.”

“You
are
strong. You don’t get that from me.”

“But I’m not. It’s you. You’ve taught me so much. You taught me how to survive. How to live. How to drive a stick. How to ride a horse. I couldn’t have done those things without you.”

“You did those things. And you’re a lot stronger than you think.”

“Maybe. I don’t know…”

“I know.”

“Okay, if you say so. But, I only feel strong when you’re with me.”

“Crimson… I’m not anything. Just a guy who survived. A guy who goes on each day. Living. A guy who… loves you.”

I took a deep breath and blinked the tears from my eyes. “Don’t you see? That is what gives me strength.” I stopped and took a deep breath again. “Do you not want me to do this?”

“I want you to do it for you. Not for me. I’m not worth it.”

“I disagree. You are worth it. To me. And, I am doing this for me.”

“Okay then. We’ll take you to get some ink.” He chuckled sexily. “My girl’s getting a tattoo — you’re one tough chick.”

“I’m
your
tough chick.”

“I like that.”

Ginny came back then, asked if we wanted some dessert. Josiah told her we’d just take the check. “I’ve got something in mind — it’s a surprise.”

We stood then, preparing to leave. Josiah came around the table and helped me with my jacket. He slid his arms around my waist, under the leather, and pulled me against his chest. His lips settled gently over mine. Tasting and claiming. We heard someone clear their throat just off to the left. I grinned as I heard his light growl.

Pulling myself out of his grasp I saw a woman standing there. She had to be about Billy’s age, and had pale blonde hair, just a little darker than mine, laced with grey. I smiled at her, not sure what she wanted, or if she was about to scold us for being so public in our display of affection.

“Excuse me,” she said. Her gaze flashed to Josiah before coming back to me. The look in her eyes was unsettling. It was a searching gaze. “I’m sorry, this is going to sound forward, and I don’t mean to be. It’s just… you look so much like my son, when he was your age. So much like him.”

My heart thudded heavily in my chest and I felt my throat close up tightly. At first I couldn’t figure why her words were bothering me as much as they were.

“He had that same shade of pale blonde hair. Same pale brown, almost golden eyes. He even had a mole, similar to yours, in that exact same place.”

I just stared at her, unsure as to what to say. Unsure as to what she was telling me.

“He died. About five years ago, I guess. You just remind me so much of him — it stopped my heart for a minute is all. We’d tried to raise him right, but he — well he was always a wild one I guess. Always flirting with danger. It caught up with him. He ran with the wrong crowd. He was killed, shot. Still don’t know who did it. I miss him.” She seemed to be rambling. Her eyes moved over my face, my hair, my mole.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Are you from around here?” Josiah asked. I couldn’t seem to find my voice. He kept his arm firmly around me, holding me tight to him.

“We, my sister and I, live here now. My husband died four years ago. Just couldn’t take the loss. Lance was our only child. After he, my husband, passed I moved down from near Salmon. You ever heard of Salmon? It’s little. Just a tiny dot on the map. Not much to draw folks up there. Unless you’re the fishing sort.”

“We’re from Salmon, ma’am.” Josiah nodded at her and pulled me after him, leading me away.

“You’re from Salmon? Maybe I know your folks?” she asked again, stopping us. She looked at me expectantly.

“My parents were Theresa and Dean Smyth,” I whispered my throat still tight.

“I didn’t know any Smyth’s… there was Theresa Newell, Terri we called her.”

“My mother,” I whispered again.

“You don’t say. She and Lance were great friends. Well, Lance always had a crush on her. Most everyone did then. But, she had eyes only for Jon. He was Lance’s best friend. They were tight, the three of them. And then your momma, she moved away. Just up and left. Jon and Lance were so heartbroken. Billy, your granddaddy, was too. Couldn’t ever figure out what had happened.”

By now I knew what had happened. Had pieced it together and was quite certain. Lance had raped my mom. Lance was my biological father. I stared at her, trying to find my voice again. I wanted to scream at her, tell her what her son had done, but the words wouldn’t come. My throat was entirely closed up. Josiah knew though. He could sense the turmoil, the rage and the pain that were thrashing inside me.

“We’re sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he told her as he pulled me out the door.

Blindly I let him lead me outside. I didn’t even notice the brisk, cold wind that was blowing. I was shivering, but not from the cold. Josiah turned me to face him, he held me close, in the shelter of his arms. He held me together.

“Breathe, Crimson. Just breathe.”

“She… he’s…”

“I know. I know.”

“There are so many things I wanted to say…”

“What good would it have done? She’s already shattered. Would you do that to her? Hurt her more? He’s dead. There is nothing that can be done, now.”

“It hurts,” I whispered against his neck.

“I know it does. But you’re strong. So strong. This will not defeat you.”

“No, I’m not defeated. And neither was she. But it does hurt. So much.”

“I know it does. I wish I could take it from you. I wish I could take all the pain away.”

Josiah was quiet for a minute. My head rested against his chest and I listened to the soothing sound of his heart. After a few minutes he pulled away from me and opened the door, helped me into the car. He got it started, got the heater going. I was shivering from the cold now.

“This changes nothing. Not about your mom, not about you. You’re still perfect. Still strong. Still amazing. This was an old demon, and you fought him and won.”

I smiled a little, liking the idea that I’d battled a demon and won. The news about Lance — learning that about him, about Mom, about me — it didn’t crush me. I was strong. Because Josiah was strong. I rolled my head to the side and looked at him. I loved him. He gave me strength and I loved him.

“You said you had a surprise for me. Do I still get it?”

“Do you still want it?” he asked, looking over at me as he stopped at the red light. I nodded. “All right, then. Hold on.”

When the light turned green Josiah quickly flipped a U-turn and headed in the other direction. We drove in silence for about ten minutes before pulling up to the curb at a cute little coffee house. There were outdoor seats scattered around in comfortable groupings. At the center of each grouping was a burner giving off heat for those brave enough to endure the night air. Most of the seats were full, I noticed. Patio lights twinkled from where they were hung, giving off a soft, almost dreamy glow.

“It’s not much, but I remembered this café is known for having the best hot chocolate and espresso in the state. I thought we’d get some.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

We placed our orders and then waited near one of the burners. There was only one seat available; Josiah pulled me down on his lap as we waited for our drinks. “Are you all right?” he asked me.

“I am. More than I thought I’d be. Thank you.”

They called our number; Josiah asked if I wanted to stay, or take it on the road. “Let’s take it to go,” I told him.

He stood up, me in his arms, then carefully set me down and took my hand as he led me to retrieve our hot chocolate. As we walked back to his car, he leaned over and kissed my head. “You’re perfect, Crimson. Just perfect.”

Fault Line

Crimson Sage

I DEBATED WITH MYSELF
on whether or not to tell Billy what I’d learned in Boise. Josiah thought I should tell him. At the least give this story some sort of period. Make it final. So I did. I told him. And granted, we didn’t have a confession, or proof that might have stood up court, but in my mind, I knew it to be true. And Billy agreed; he’d suspected Lance, especially after he saw me grow up. Billy mentioned a blood test. It would confirm if my DNA matched Lance’s. But Josiah and I agreed there was no point in it. We’d only cause further pain and suffering to his mother — and she was damaged enough. I was a legal adult now, so there was no need to prove it for custody or child-support purposes. And besides he was dead; there was nothing that could be done about it. There was nothing he or they had that I wanted. My mom had already given me the best gift — life.

We decided not to tell Ethan, though. At least not right now. Maybe when he was a little older. Our lives just continued on. I felt a definite lift in my shoulders, having that mystery solved, that chapter ended. I was able to breathe easier. Spring was coming. Promise seemed to shine on the horizon.

I got a part-time job at the Java Shack in Salmon — just a few hours a week, no more than twenty — but it got me out of the house and allowed me to earn an income, which made me feel good. One day about three weeks after I started, I’d just left town — my shift was over — when my car suddenly gave a sharp jerk to the right. Gripping the wheel tightly, I pulled over to the side and stopped. I sat still for a minute, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. Then I got out to take a look. My right front tire was flat. I heaved a deep sigh and thought about Josiah teaching me how to change a flat. I really didn’t want to have to change it, but I needed to get home.

Gritting my teeth, I popped the trunk and began assembling the needed items. I worked for about five minutes getting things set up, when I heard a vehicle coming up. The vehicle slowed down; I looked up and my eyes collided with Rob’s. He had a grin on his face; it wasn’t friendly. He wasn’t alone. Two others were with him — a guy, maybe a little older than me, around Josiah’s age, and a girl with dark brown hair. Rob sat in the passenger seat; the girl sat between him and the driver. He rolled the window down. “Looks like you need some help.”

“No, I’m good.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Josiah’s already on his way. He should be here shortly. Thanks though,” I lied.

Rob gave me a speculative look then scratched his chin and said, “Suit yourself. I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah, later.” I watched them as they slowly drove off. Rob stared at me in the mirror until they were out of sight.

I climbed into my car as quickly as I could and locked the door. Then I called Josiah. Which is what I should have done to begin with, but I figured he’d taught me how to do this for a reason.

“I need you,” I said as soon as he answered.