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Authors: Nicole Hamlett

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BOOK: Huntress
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Scowling, I slipped my wedding bands off my finger and dropped them into the cup of a homeless man lounging outside the door.  My SUV was waiting nearby with an overnight bag packed for the trip to a cabin up in Woodland Park stowed in the back.

Remembering that I was actually getting hell out of this town settled some of the turmoil.  A thin layer of peace surrounded me.  The fact is - sometimes when life is the shits, just being out in the forest makes
everything
so much better.

The drive from Colorado Springs isn't a long one, but once you get into the mountains it certainly is beautiful.  After you pass through Manitou Springs, red walled cliffs rise up on either side - winding through a canyon before exiting into this amazing vista of peaks and evergreens.  The view leaves me breathless every time.

I turned up the volume on the stereo and rolled down the window, letting the fresh air fill the interior while I argued with myself.  My fingers beat a nervous staccato on the steering wheel while an internal debate waged with a ferocity that would have made the devil cry.

I hadn’t had a cigarette in over six months. It was part of the new Single Me plan.  I would go to the gym, shed the 60 pounds I’d put on and (most importantly) I’d quit smoking.  Men would flock to me in droves because I was sparkling, charismatic, skinny, and of course, I didn’t smoke.

I’d quit smoking but hadn’t gone to the gym once.

Screw that! I didn’t need to be charismatic and sparkling. What I needed was a smoke.  Digging around in the glove box, my hand pulled out the pack of cigarettes I’d hidden for one of those ‘Just in case’ moments.  My fingers shook as I lit the end and inhaled.  The first drag burned my lungs and left me sputtering.  Oh my God this was so nasty. Why? Why did I think this was a good idea? 

The second drag reminded me - Oh
that
was why. The nicotine entered my system and I felt my body relax.  I’d never done hard drugs, but I imagined that this was what a heroin addict felt like after that first hit. Everything seemed to slow down, becoming lazy.   The truth is that I would have smoked that entire pack, but after the third drag, the guilt overcame the pleasure and I dumped it into an old glass bottle saved specifically for the occasion.  The taste left in my mouth (like a cat had taken a crap in it) was another reminder of why I’d quit. Where was my gum?

Finally finding it and popping a piece into my mouth, I let my fingers resume their staccato on the steering wheel. The scenery was pretty and the radio was finally playing some choice songs, but my brain wasn’t really hearing the music anymore.

It occurred to me that I’d passed Woodland Park about ten minutes ago. At this point, a normal woman would have turned around but some inner compass was directing me, leaving me with a restless feeling that I couldn’t pinpoint.  That feeling wouldn’t allow me to stop. It kept driving me further along, maybe hoping for a bit of danger or adventure. I didn’t know what it was. I really didn’t care, if we were being honest.   My foot pressed a bit harder on the gas and trees and rock flew by as my car ate up the miles, the compass directing every turn.

Ahead, a small inlet snaked into a cluster of trees.  Not thinking about it, only acting, I slowed down and pulled onto the rutted dirt road.  Branches scraped the sides of my SUV as it crawled forward, like they were trying to warn me to turn away now. “No hope lies ahead Grace,” they said.  I ignored them and looked for a place to park.  In the next life, I’m listening to the damn branches.

Spying a small dirt-packed area, I pulled over and parked before unfolding myself out of the driver’s seat. Wind ruffled my hair as I stretched my cramped legs. Ugh, I was completely out of shape.  I thanked my lucky stars that I’d had the foresight to pack a sweatshirt, because the temperature was starting to drop.  None of that white stuff covered the ground yet, but you could smell the frost in the air. It wouldn’t be long before we had our first snow.

Not surprised to find no signal for my cell, I shoved it into my pocket, put on the sweatshirt and pulled out a flashlight. This area wasn’t familiar and I wanted to make sure I was prepared before starting along the small but obvious path.

I’m not a hiker. Rose and I had laughed at all of the single Men on the internet who claimed that they liked to hike, back when I was still thinking about dating.  Really? Wouldn’t they rather sit in front of a big screen TV and watch an action flick? I know I would.  We’d finally realized that it was some new dating jargon. The 80s had the walks along the beach - these days it was hiking. I’d like to say that my loathing of hiking stems from some environmental crusade but the truth is - I’m lazy and not the biggest fan of snakes.  Contrary to what anyone here will tell you, there are snakes at this altitude and they will bite you.  So why was I walking haphazardly down this strange path, snakes be damned?

 

Fate.

 

Fate is an ugly bitch who will screw with your life every single chance she gets.  Life going along even keeled? Well you should expect Fate to show up at your door, knocking with an evil grin and a bottle of cyanide for the appetizer drinks. 

I know better now, but at the time, my mind chalked this trek into the wilderness as depression and shock with a self-pity chaser. All the while my subconscious was screaming, “What the fuck are you doing?” Obviously, ignoring my subconscious mind is something I excel at.

A maelstrom of thoughts swirled around my brain with a tumultuous disdain for any semblance of logic and order. What was next? I didn’t know. I just couldn’t pinpoint that next step right now, which scared the bejesus out of me because I always had goals and ‘next steps.’  Six months ago I had no idea I’d be divorced right now.  I should have realized that I wasn’t the only girl in Brandon’s life when he started working the late nights.
 
But as a writer, you have a tendency to forget about the outside world when you’re on a deadline.

Speaking of deadlines, my agent Marisol was nagging me about my latest book. God knows without her support and understanding, this entire business would have been much harder to take.  Focusing on work was good.  My mind grasped at that deadline like flotsam in a hurricane - hoping for the lifeline of sanity to pull us back onto the boat. Finishing this latest book was important. There were savings, but the lawyer, the mortgage company and the grocery store all wanted their piece. By trade I was a romance writer.  Don’t judge. It paid the bills and had given me the resources necessary to separate from Brandon when I’d discovered him accidently falling dick forward into his receptionist.

The few friends I had didn’t really know what I did for a living. As far as they knew, I was a Researcher for a SciFi novelist.   It seemed like a cooler job to have and was certainly more respectable than writing trashy bodice rippers.  Thankfully they didn’t question how a newly single mother could afford the house I lived in, or how I survived without my husb… ex-husband’s dual income.
 
The information wasn’t volunteered.  

Sometimes, I feel bad about those lies - but the fact that nobody had figured this out was a huge surprise, since no one with any intelligence could call me a very good liar.  But believe it or not, the only person other than my agent, editor and publisher that knew what I really did for a living was my best friend Rose.  She heckled me all the time about it. Conversations often ended with her parting shot of “Go write your porn!”

I scowled with annoyance.  I would have called her over this recent angst, but she and her husband were celebrating their thirteenth anniversary by cruising the Mediterranean on one of the new luxury ocean liners. A stab of self pity overwhelmed me.
I
should be on a cruise, sipping fruity drinks and lounging on the deck of a mammoth ship reading the latest from my favorite author.

But no, here I was walking in the woods, freezing my ass off and dwelling on the sad shape of my love life.  It was obvious to me that I’d be spending the rest of my life alone. How could I possibly write about true love and dashing men who swept the heroine off of their feet when my perception of true love had just kicked my ass and stolen my wallet? There were no roguish, tall, oh-my-god-I-want-him men in my life and my self-pity was assuring me that there never would be. 

The last time I’d had any semblance of “a good time” was the night Dylan was conceived. I’m not going into those details.  This isn’t one of
those
stories. Did I say stab of self pity? No, I was trekking through the Swamp of Self Pity at this point, waist deep in my own stinking shit.

Being so wrapped up in a whirlwind of wretchedness does nothing for your outer perception, so of course I didn’t notice the woman kneeling on the trail in front of me.  Oh, my world and then some for a bit of grace and composure. It would have come in so handy when she called, “Hey there sunshine!”

That imagined grace and composure may have even prevented me from yelping, slipping on the loose pebbles littering the trail and barreling straight over her. Frantically my arms wind-milled around, trying to stay upright, as I was slipping and sliding around like some kind of bad Scooby Doo scene.

The Universe isn’t so kind because neither my mediocre grace nor Scooby Doo helped me.

After flying in an undignified heap over the mystery woman, my ass hit first, then my back, shoulders and so on. A shock of pain shot up through my tailbone and ended at the tip of my tongue, which I had bitten. “Gah!”

“Little jumpy ‘aintya?” she laughed as she picked herself up off of the ground.

Sharp rocks dug into my palms as I struggled to push myself off of the ground. “Listen, I’m really sorry I didn’t see you there.  Is this private land? I have no idea how I even got here” Cue me chuckling nervously. Oh God I was such a dork. “I apologize if I’m trespassing – well and for knocking you down.” I wavered between annoyance and shame that I had been so self-absorbed that I hadn’t even realized she had been there.

“Oh that little bump was nothing,” she smiled and held out her hand. “Diana, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I took her hand hesitantly and replied, “The pleasure is mine. Again, I’m so-.”

“Stop,” she interrupted. “It’s fine really. I’ve suffered worse. Besides Gracie, you are exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Had I told her who I was?  Looking back over the entire debacle, I tried to determine if I'd yelled out my name at some point.  Maybe a psychotic snap was imminent and I'd begun referring to myself in the third person.  "Grace is gonna fall!"  It took everything I had not to laugh at myself.  Right, back to the point.  Starting with - Who was this woman and how did she know me?  My brow furrowed and I opened and closed my mouth a few times.  Fish-out-of-water impressions, they're kind of my specialty.  "I'm sorry - have we met?"

Frantically, my brain tried to recall if my picture was on any of the flaps of my books.  I’d asked the publisher to create a digital image of some nondescript woman so that I could retain my anonymity.  But who knew. In the beginning you aren’t so picky as long as the thing sells.

“I first met you about thirty-four years ago actually,” she smiled and stood back and stretched to her full height.  She wasn’t very tall but she had this presence that made her seem bigger.  Her grey hair fell in waves around her face and the collar of an old duster that covered her frame like a favored blanket, worn around the cuffs and hem. Even her jeans were faded and battered.  Despite her disheveled appearance, she exuded grace and calm.  A speculative gleam lit her eyes as she took me in.

One of the many drawbacks of my personality is my contrary nature.  As soon as I thought she was judging me, I got defensive. Nobody likes to feel like they are left wanting and she definitely gave me the impression that I was lacking in something.

“So you’re…” I trailed the sentence, giving her the opportunity to elaborate on that strange sentence. Just because I was defensive didn’t mean that I had to come out swinging. I learned that in therapy.  See, all of that money hadn’t gone to waste.

She smiled at me. “When you were little, you were always getting into things. Your curiosity is just insatiable. I suppose that there is still hope for you yet.”

“Oh, are you friends with my adoptive parents?” Great, years spent trying to pretend that I didn’t belong to them wasted in a moment of clumsiness. Making small talk and eventually having to deal with them because news of me had reached them wasn’t at the top of my list of things to look forward to.

She snorted and shook her head. “Like I’d have anything to do with those two idiots,” she scoffed. “I knew it was a bad idea but I did it anyway. Wish I hadn’t now.”

“Ooookay,” I brushed my hands on my jeans, and turned to leave. “So, I’m kinda all full up on crazy right now.  I’m just gonna go. Again, really sorry to have knocked you over.”

She stopped me in my tracks with one sentence. “Hmm, I hadn’t thought you’d grow into a coward. What happened to you Grace?”

“Could be the multiple beatings that life gave me. I don’t know. It has a way of stripping the wonder out of you.” I responded nonchalantly as I forced my feet to start moving.

“Aren’t you wondering how you ended up here?” She called.

“Nope,” I replied shortly and continued walking. “Get lost all of the time. It’s part of my charm.”

Her frustrated growl reached my ears and it left the spot between my shoulder blades tingling with something akin to fear. I had to force myself to continue walking and not start running. That wasn’t easy. Fear is a great motivator.

BOOK: Huntress
10.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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