Wild Flower (28 page)

No one wanted to let us go home; Mom was adamant that we sleep in her house, Dodge wanted to stand guard over the bed. But in the end I wanted my own room, my husband beside me, and so Justin carried me to the truck after hugs all around, and drove us along the gravel road that curved through the woods and led back to our lot.

“Will you carry me to bed?” I asked softly as he parked in the driveway, so exhausted I could hardly stand.

“I will do anything for you,” Justin said. He cradled me to his chest as he carried me to our room. There, he placed me carefully upon the bed, bending over me, cupping my belly and pressing his face there, shaking with the depth of his emotion. I put my hands in his hair, holding his head against me as he whispered hoarsely, “If anything had…happened to you…oh God, Jilly, my Jillian, I would die.” He shifted and took my face in his hands, so gently, his eyes ravaged, speaking around a choking lump in his throat, “Can you forgive me for not being here? For not protecting you from him?”

Of course he would feel that way; I knew he would torture himself with it, and I could not let him. I looked intently into his dark eyes and whispered, “This is not your fault.”

“Jilly,” he whispered, and tears sparked in his eyes. With utmost tenderness, soft as cottonseed alighting on the lake, he kissed my lips. He smoothed hair back from my forehead, whispering, “I'm so sorry. Oh God, you can say you don't blame me, but I blame myself.” Tears spilled over his cheeks as he studied me, his hands framing my face. He whispered, “It's my responsibility to protect you, to protect our family.”

“Justin,” I said, reaching to get my arms around his neck. I held tightly to him. “Please don't do this to yourself. It's no one's fault. Please, never say it's your fault, not ever again.”

He drew a shuddering breath and pressed his lips to my forehead. His tears wet my face; my own streaked hotly over my temples, as I was lying on my back. He moved carefully and curled his arms under me, cupping my shoulders from beneath, holding me fiercely to him. I clung back, burying my face in his neck, breathing in his scent. I whispered, “I need you so much, Justin. I need you in my arms.” He made a sound deep in his throat, and I told him honestly, “It's all right now, I feel it. I really do.”

His mouth was against my right temple. He whispered achingly, “I'll never let you from my arms again. I couldn't go on without you, Jillian, not for a minute. Oh God, not for a minute.”

“Sweetheart,” I whispered, tasting the salt of tears. “Oh, Justin.”

He shifted us to the side, curling protectively around me. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, and I pressed my palm upon his chest. Justin took my hand into his and kissed my knuckles. His voice was harsh with emotion as he said, “I'll hold you while you sleep. I want to feel your heart against me.”

Gran and Great-Aunt Minnie came to me in a dream, appearing as the versions of themselves that I recalled from my high school days, back when I helped Minnie dye her hair its original blonde every few weeks. They came to me with their faces somber, and smoothed their hands over my cheek as I lay against my husband, touching the bruising left there.

Jillian, it was too close
, Gran said.
He would have killed you.

His hatred is too deep to comprehend. Even he can't understand it
, Great-Aunt Minnie said.
It's in his very blood.

Look at the boy
, Gran said tenderly, casting her eyes upon Justin's sleeping form.
The boy has always been for you, Jilly. You just needed to realize it. You belong to him and he belongs to you.

We'll take care of this, doll,
Great-Aunt Minnie assured me.
You rest now. Let us finish this.

Saturday morning dawned clear and golden, though we were still in bed as the clock edged past noon. We had two more days of vacation before heading home. We were no closer to any answers about Malcolm and Cora than we'd been a week ago in Minnesota, but we had been meant to meet the Rawleys, I was certain. Maybe that was the true purpose of our trip.

“Morning, honey,” Mathias said, kissing my temple. He was still half-asleep, lazy and content after a very late night, first performing at the Roadhouse, and then, back here in bed, fulfilling my every request, as promised. I felt a blush bloom all the way to my hairline, just recalling. I hoped we hadn't been too loud. He spread a hand against my belly, warm beneath my t-shirt, and drew me closer. “Well, afternoon, really.”

“Morning,” I murmured. “Thank you for last night.”

“Oh holy shit, it was my pleasure,” he said back. “My very great pleasure.”

I buried a giggle in the pillow. I supposed we'd have to get up and get moving; according to the little bedside clock it was going for one.

“Clark let us sleep right through breakfast,” Mathias explained.

“I can't believe we slept this late. Jeez…”

“It's all right, honey, we're on vacation.”

“I'm going to shower quick,” I whispered, softly kissing his lips before moving.

“I'll be here,” he told me, snuggling into the sheets. He looked so tempting I almost dove back into the bed.

After my shower I found Mathias already dressed, sitting on the edge of the mattress and dialing his voicemail. His eyes lit with a smile at the sight of me and he said, “I love the sight of you all damp and steamy from the shower.”

I blew him a kiss and then found my bag, rooting around for my own cell phone; finding it, I saw that it needed charging, of course. I moved to plug it into the wall as Mathias listened to his messages. I busied myself packing our things and didn't at first realize that he had gone stone-still and that something was very much wrong.

“Camille,” he said then, in such a strange tone of voice that I dropped the clothes I was holding and went to him at once.

“What is it?” I asked, more than alarmed. He was holding the phone to his shoulder as though he couldn't bear to hear any more of the message. My heart ratcheted up to about a hundred miles an hour. I could hardly speak as I whispered one word, “Millie…”

Mathias shook his head at once and then drew a deep breath. He said, “No, no, she's fine. That was your mom. I don't even know…”

“What is it?” I gasped, and Mathias tossed his phone to the side and took my shoulders in his hands.

He said quietly, as though he couldn't quite believe it either, “Last night your aunt Jilly was attacked by a man named Zack Dixon –”

“Oh God,” I uttered. “Is she – oh God – is she all right?”

“He hit her, but she's all right. Noah saved her.”

“What?” I asked faintly.

Mathias's voice was low with concern, but steady, as though he was determined to tell me everything he knew. He said, “Noah was out at Shore Leave last night because he was going to shoot himself on the dock. He had a gun. He saved your aunt by showing up. Zack was choking her and Noah shot the gun and scared him away.”

It was too much. On top of everything else it was too much. I put both hands over my eyes and pressed hard for a second, willing away these mental images.

“Honey, come here,” he said, drawing me to his chest, where I pressed my face and clung.

“Oh God, Aunt Jilly,” I moaned. “Oh God, she was scared of Zack, I could tell, and I didn't even do anything…”

“Who is he? Who the hell is this guy?”

“Remember the guy whose canoe you helped load up a few weeks ago?” My voice was shaking and I tried to draw a breath to control it; Mathias nodded. I went on, “He kept stopping out at Shore Leave to sit in her section. He was such a rude asshole, I had to wait on him a few times, but I didn't realize he was crazy…that he would hurt her…oh God…”

“The college student?” Mathias asked. He sounded stunned.

“Where is he now? Did they catch him? I'll kill him myself,” I raged, angry tears spilling over my face at the thought of anyone harming Aunt Jilly, my pixie auntie, who I loved so much.

“I don't know, your mom didn't say,” he said. “Everyone is with her right now. Millie is with your mom. I guess Blythe and Justin had taken the kids camping at Itasca, and weren't there last night.”

“We've got to go home,” I said at once, standing up, in a flurry now. “We can't stay here a second longer.”

It was just my imagination; surely I couldn't really hear the wailing cry somewhere in the back of my mind.

Malcolm, Cora, forgive me
, I thought.
Oh God, forgive me
.

And then my thoughts came back to something else that Mathias had mentioned, and I faltered. I said quietly, “Noah was going to…shoot himself?”

He swallowed and his eyebrows drew together in discomfort. He said, just as quietly, “That's what your mom said. Camille, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say.”

“He wouldn't have gone through with it,” I said then, maybe to protect myself from any guilt that I was harboring. I couldn't blame myself for Noah's actions. I would not feel responsible. But I did feel pity, and deep regret that he would even consider such a thing. He was my child's father, whether I liked it or not, and he felt terrible enough last night that he had planned to take himself from her life permanently. I shuddered a little. I said, “I better call Mom. Oh God…”

Mathias stood and sheltered me against his chest for one more minute. He felt so good, so warm and solid. He kissed the top of my head and whispered, “Let's get loaded up, love, and we'll get going, all right? I'll call Harry and Meg too. We'll tell them there's an emergency back home.”

***

“We'll miss you something fierce
around here,” Clark said, hugging the both of us. The boys were all lined up like stair-steps, waiting for hugs of their own. “Kindred spirits need each other, so you come back soon, promise?”

“We will,” I assured him, hugging everyone in turn.

“Tell your sister that I can't wait to meet her,” Case teased me, but his eyes were serious.

“We'll see you in October for the wedding,” Garth said.

“Don't stop looking,” Wy told me, as I bent down to collect him close.

“I won't,” I promised, brushing hair from his eyes.

“We'll miss you too,” I told Clark, back to him, hugging him once more.

“You always have a place to stay here,” he said.

“And you guys, in Landon,” Mathias said.

The mood was so momentarily low that it was a relief when Case said, “Shit, it's not like we have to ride horseback to see each other. This is the modern age. It's just a day or so, by car, right?”

Mathias held the door for me and I climbed into the truck. He rounded the hood and climbed beside me and linked our fingers as we drove east.

***

We stopped in Miles City
for supper, as we hadn't eaten yet today. I called Mom again afterwards, sitting outside of the little restaurant on a wooden bench, watching as a line of pewter-gray thunderclouds moved from the west, as though tailing us. Mathias was talking with Tina, no more than a foot from me.

“Sweetie, there's no need to race home,” Mom said. “Drive safe. Camp somewhere tonight if you're too tired.”

“Mom, I'm just so upset,” I said, and then asked again, still sick with worry, “Is Aunt Jilly all right?”

“She's been resting today,” Mom said. “Justin is at her side, don't you worry.”

“Any news on…” I could hardly bear to say his name.

“No,” Mom said softly. I could tell she was keeping her voice steady with effort. “But they'll find him. He can't hide forever. Apparently he was a suspect in conjunction with the disappearance of a girl in St. Louis, two years ago.”

“Oh God,” I said. Mom hadn't mentioned this when we'd spoken earlier.

“Hey,” Mom said then, changing tone abruptly. “It's all right, baby girl. Millie is here with me, and Bly and the kids are home, and it's going to be all right. You and Mathias drive safe, okay? Don't rush. We're just fine here. Grandma sends her love.”

“Okay,” I agreed. She hadn't brought up Noah this time, so I hadn't either; she'd told me before we left the Rawleys' that he was home with his parents and that they weren't planning to leave him alone anytime soon.

“I love you,” Mom said.

“Love you too,” I told her, and hung up. Beside me, Mathias ended the call with Tina at almost the same moment. He looked over at me and wrapped me into his arms.

“We've had such beautiful sunny days, I guess we deserve a little soaking,” he said softly, nodding in the direction of the approaching storm.

“It is gorgeous here, there's no denying,” I said, resting my head on his chest. “But I am so glad to be going home. I miss Millie Jo, and I miss our little cabin.”

“I wish we were sitting on our porch there right now,” he agreed. “What did your mom say?”

“She said not to rush,” I told him. I realized something then and said, “Shit, I forgot to get that picture back from Case. The one of Tish and the girls.”

“I'm sure he'll take good care of it,” Mathias said, smiling at my concern. “But all the same, maybe don't tell your sister.”

“Yeah, she probably wouldn't find that romantic,” I agreed.

“We can drive straight through if you want,” he said. “That's what I was thinking.”

“Me too,” I said. “I'll take a turn driving, so you don't get too tired.”

“Don't you worry about me,” he said.

“I don't mind,” I insisted. “You drove the whole way here.”

Mathias surrendered the wheel and despite his words, was dozing within a half hour of leaving Miles City. It was July and the evening was long, but the rain moved in, overtaking us, and at after eight it was close to darkness. I turned on the windshield wipers and dropped our speed a little; we seemed to be the only traffic on the road, but still. The highway had always worked to mesmerize me a little, and my thoughts were so jumbled, tangling together as I thought of Aunt Jilly, and Cora, and Malcolm…

The truck rolled past a little road sign announcing
Terry, population 605
. It was just as l looked at this that I knew I needed to turn left. I
knew
it. I slowed, clicking on the blinker, and took the next turn, not allowing myself to question this action. This road led us back almost the way we'd come, vaguely northwest, but I had been overtaken by an intensity that I could not explain. I looked over at Mathias, sleeping peacefully against one of our bed pillows from home, and I decided I would let him rest. For now. The first road sign I saw indicated I was driving over Highway 253. The countryside was rugged out the windows, though somewhat obscured by a misting rain. My eyes roved frantically for any indication at what could help me make sense of what the hell I was doing.

Camille, this is so stupid
, I told myself. Turn around.
It's getting late and you're doing no good.

But there's something…

Something's here…

A fist seemed to curl its fingers around my heart. When a small animal darted in front of the truck, I shrieked and braked hard, startling Mathias awake. He jolted straight and his left arm came across my chest at once, as though to hold me back from some sort of danger.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, fearful.

I was clutching the steering wheel, holding the brake with my foot, and we were still in the middle of the road. Rain trickled over the truck exactly as though the sky was weeping in long, continuous sobs. It was dark as midnight out the window. Mathias unbuckled and slid across the bench seat to me.

“Honey, pull over,” he said, and I did. He asked, “Where are we?”

“I'm sorry,” I told him. “I took a left back near a town called Terry.”

“I know the town,” he said, studying me in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. He said, “What's going on?”

But I could feel it all around me now, the intensity of the pulling. A line along the skin over my left ribcage seemed to burn. I said, “She's here, she's somewhere close. Oh my God…”

Mathias drew a breath and clutched my face. He didn't question how I knew this. He said intently, “Where?”

I held his wrists and said, “She's pulling me. Oh God, I can feel her pulling me. I have to go out there.”

Before he could say otherwise, I opened the driver's side door and stepped out into the rain. The air was rife with the scent of soaking earth, rich and loamy and overwhelming. The sky was low and sullen above me, dripping rain audibly into the scrubby brush that started up immediately where the road ended. Mathias was right behind me and he caught me around the waist with one arm.

“You need different shoes!” he half-yelled, over the sound of the breeze.

He hauled me back into the truck, where I traded my flip-flops for tennis shoes. My hands were shaking.

“Come on,” I said.

“Wait!” he said, keeping me from forward movement with both hands around my waist. He said, “This is country I don't know. We should wait until morning.”

“We can't wait!” I said, desperate, my side burning. “She's so close, Thias, I can feel her. Oh God…”

“Which way?” he asked, studying my eyes. I knew he believed me, that he knew this was real. He considered another moment, his eyes moving back out the window. Reaching a decision, he fished the flashlight from the glove compartment. He said, “We'll look, but you stay close to me. Stay right behind me.”