Twilight (31 page)

He kept seeing the wedding picture and their smiling faces. He did believe Brian had run him off the road and had a whack at him with the bat. But Brian was dead, and someone had pulled the trigger. The ruined face was imbedded in his thoughts as well. Could Laurie have done that? Could she?

His feelings were a mess. Rage and yearning and resentment. But then he thought of the fear he’d seen in her the night he learned she wasn’t divorced. If he hadn’t been so hurt and angry, he might have gotten some answers. If he hadn’t cared more about his pride and loss, he might have learned why she’d run from her husband.
Left
him, as Marjorie had said.

Maybe he could have stopped this.
“Laurie brought this trouble with her.”
Mildred had seen it. Laurie was in trouble, and if it wasn’t Brian, she was still in danger. That was the thought he kept avoiding. It was easier, much easier to imagine her guilty, even of murder, than helpless and in danger.

“Where are we going?” The little voice broke through his confusion.

He tipped the mir ror to see Maddie’s wor r ied f ace. “My grandpa’s cabin.”

“Why?”

What could he tell her? That he was eluding the law? Hiding them at their mother’s request, yet leaving her to face … Again the fear surged through him. He had to do this. Whatever Laurie had gotten into, he had to keep the kids out of it.

“I want Mommy.”

“I know Maddie.”
I want her too
. He tried to still it, to ignore it. But there it was, the persistent, not to be ignored, wanting. And it wasn’t just physical; it was a longing of the soul, a need to know she was safe, a need to care, to love her. He was a fool.

Cal looked into the mirror again, and his eyes shifted from Maddie’s clouding face to Luke, who was fingering the leather rifle that hung behind his seat. “Leave it alone, Luke. It’s loaded.”

Luke dropped his hand without speaking. Cal yanked the ridiculous bonnet from his head and tossed it to the seat. They were past the point of discovery. Twenty minutes more on this highway, then a quick jaunt along the dirt road that would bring them to the cabin.

“Say, Luke. What do you call …” He told a series of jokes just silly enough to catch their interest. Even Maddie laughed. Of course, they had no idea what was happening. He doubted Laurie had said anything more than she had to.

Rounding the bend, the cabin came into sight. Cal took a good, unbiased look at it. Mildred had a point. The porch sagged, the front window was boarded, and the flap on the chimney pipe coughed rust in the wind. He smiled. “Here we are.”

Neither child spoke. He pulled to a stop and climbed out, then lifted Maddie down while Luke got out with Annie behind. Maddie curled her fingers into his and pressed close to his leg. Luke planted his feet and stared.

Cal thought fast. “Just like Davy Crockett’s house.”

Luke looked up. “Who’s Davy Crockett?”

Cal put his hands on his hips and sang, “Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.” Luke grinned, and Cal rubbed his head. “I’ll tell you all about him, but first let’s check out the cabin for coons.”

Maddie’s fingers tightened as they mounted the stairs. He pushed open the door. Like his grandfather before him, Cal didn’t lock up the place. He figured if someone in the area needed shelter, they might as well make use of it. It didn’t smell as though anyone had, not for a long time anyway. “You two have a look around, while I get us unloaded.”

Luke and Maddie circled the room. There wasn’t much to see. The single space held a bed, a dry sink, a stretch of countertop, and a wood-burning stove. A wooden table and chairs Cal’s grandfather had built from the woods out back were the only furnishings. The floorboards were warped and uneven, but solid, and Cal had, as he told Mildred, plugged the largest gaps in the log walls.

He went to haul in their gear, thankful Cissy had fed the children lunch before they left. It took nearly two hours to get everything wiped down and fit for habitation. The bed on the wall would work for the kids, feet to feet, and he made up a bedroll on the floor for himself. The stove was in good condition, and he’d brought enough water for several days. Now if the roof didn’t leak and …

“I have to tinkle.”

He looked down at Maddie, then out the back window to the outhouse. “Okay. That’s the bathroom out there.”

“You take me?”

“Uh … sure.” He took her by the hand and walked out, Luke tagging along beside them. For all his bravado, Cal could tell Luke was none too sure about any of this. Cal pulled open the door and ushered Maddie in, then closed the door behind her.

“It’s dawk.”

He noted her exaggerated baby talk. It had started in the car. A sign of distress? Rita would know.

He slid open the panel on the door. “That better?”

“It’s still dawk.”

He glanced down at Luke, then pulled open the door a hand’s width, painting a stripe of light across one tiny knee and shoulder. “How’s that?

“Okay.”

“Next time we’ll bring a flashlight.” He gazed around at the edge of the woods while she took care of business. It had warmed enough that Luke stood comfortably in only a sweat shirt.

He nudged the boy’s shoulder. “If you’re American when you go into the bathroom, and American when you come out, what are you inside?”

Luke started to grin and shrugged again. “American?”

“Nope. European.”

Luke stared a minute, then finished his grin and laughed. “European.”

“Don’t tell that one to your mother.” Cal felt a pang. Would Luke have the chance? Would any of them have the chance to tell her anything again? Adrenaline surged. What was he doing in the woods? How could he do anything for her if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with her children?

With her children.
“You can’t imagine how holding your newborn son for the first time can wipe away all the false notions of what matters most.”
Wasn’t he doing exactly what she wanted? She’d entrusted her most precious gifts to him.

Maddie pushed open the door. “How do you fwush?”

“You don’t.”

“Yucky.”

“Yeah.” He took her hand again. What if he were buying Laurie time? Time to what? Run away? Would she leave Luke and Maddie for good? She’d left Brian, but that was different.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”
She’d meant that.

He tightened his grip on Maddie’s soft fingers and called, “Luke! Let’s take a walk, scout out the lie of the land.” Maybe they shouldn’t leave the cabin, but if he didn’t walk he’d explode.

Luke jumped off the rock he’d climbed, laughing when Annie frisked around them and then bounded ahead. “Will she get lost?”

“Nope. She’ll keep us in sight.” Cal straddled the narrow stream bed and lifted Maddie across, then handed Luke over. His shoulder hurt enough to remind him he should have had it looked at. He scanned the woods, wary. The sunshine was deceptively bright, glancing off the brown grasses and shiny branches of the bracken. Across the rise a blue jay called and flitted to a higher branch. Annie rushed back, licked his hand, and ran ahead again. He relaxed.

Luke ran after the dog. “I’m the scout!”

“Not so fast. I want you to stay close.” Cal might have been talking to the dog for all the response he got. Luke’s pumping legs carried him into the trees. Well, Annie would keep him tracked.

They hadn’t gone too far when Maddie stopped, put up her arms, and said, “Carry me?”

Cal hoisted her to his shoulders, wincing, and she planted her palms against his forehead. “Watch your head.” He ducked down under the branches, and her hands slipped over his eyes. “I can’t see, Maddie.”

She slid them back to his forehead, and holding her small calves, he pressed on. He could just make out Luke’s brown hair through the trunks ahead. Annie traversed the path, and Luke cavorted behind her. Cal smiled. Luke reminded him of himself, the same carefree abandon, the sense of adventure any woods gave him. He could almost imagine they were there for a holiday. The only thing missing was Laurie.

His diaphragm convulsed. What was he going to do? He pondered her note again.
The children shouldn’t pay for my mistakes
. Mistakes. The murder of her husband?
Keep the children safe. Take them somewhere they won’t be found
. Found by whom? Not Brian. The authorities? Or someone else? Someone who trashed her place and threatened her now? A finger of fear found his spine.

Maddie squirmed on the back of his neck. “Put me down. I want to chase the doggie.”

Cal stooped to lower her to the ground, and she bounced away with tiny springy steps. He rubbed his shoulder, willing the pain and the fear to subside. Mildred was right. The children were his first concern. At the moment, it was the only way he could help Laurie.

They spent as much time in the woods as circumstances would allow. Some of the time they walked. Some of the time they sat and Cal told them about the woods, about Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone, about his job and fires he’d fought, about anything he thought might keep the kid’s minds—and his own—from Laurie. But then the meager heat fled behind wintry storm clouds. He brought the kids back to the cabin, stoked the fire in the stove, and cooked some hot dogs. Maddie wrinkled her nose as he doused his with mustard.

He pressed the bun shut with a frown. “You eat yours your way, and I’ll eat mine my way. Ketchup on a hot dog is sacrilegious.”

“What’s that mean?” Luke’s eyes were wide and curious.

“It means the real way to eat a hot dog is with mustard.” He slid the mustard bottle toward Luke, who still shook his head. Cal grinned. “Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Though it was just past sundown, Maddie was already yawning when they finished eating. The walk had worn them all out. He shouldn’t have gone so far, but he had needed it. Staking out his territory, maybe. Feeling out the land. Some primal need to secure his space. No one would take him by surprise out here.

He put the paper plates into the trash bag he’d hung from the edge of the table, and nodded to the children. “Pull that curtain across the corner and get into your pajamas.”

They walked like automatons, first to the suitcase that held their clothes, then to the curtained corner. A few minutes later Maddie reappeared in a flannel nightgown with the tag sticking up under her chin. As far as Cal could tell it didn’t matter, so he left it alone.

She patted his arm. “I have to brush my teeth.”

“Here at the sink.”

“There’s no water.”

“No running water, but there’s a drain. We’ll use the bottled water to rinse and wash it down.”

Maddie ran the foaming brush over her teeth, then he helped her pour the water over the bristles and into the sink basin. Luke followed on his own. His fresh silence bothered Cal, but he wasn’t sure how to broach it. “You all right, buddy?” He rubbed the boy’s shoulder.

Luke nodded, laid his toothbrush on the sink, and looked up. “Is Mommy coming here?”

Cal considered carefully. “I don’t think so, not tonight.” In the morning he’d figure out what to do next. He couldn’t leave the children alone. He’d been charged with their safety, something he’d made his credo this last year: Keep children safe and they won’t need to be rescued. Laurie trusted him to do that. But they could hardly stay holed up forever. Even if Danson didn’t want him for murder, he wasn’t the sort to change identities and whisk the kids’ faces onto a milk carton.

He got them tucked into the bed, and turned off the Coleman lantern. In the darkness, he climbed out of his jeans and slipped into his thermal long johns. The stove glowed, putting out enough heat for the small room. There wasn’t much chance he’d sleep deeply enough to let it go out, but, just in case, he tossed another blanket over the children and slid into the covers on the floor. He was just about gone when he felt Maddie’s palm on his cheek. Not the outhouse again …

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?” His gruffness was pure exhaustion.

“Mommy lets me in when I’m scared.”

He studied her standing like a waif in the darkness. “You’ll be more comfortable in the bed.”

She shook her head, and, sighing, he raised the cover. She burrowed in next to him, her back, soft and pliant against his chest. Gently, he curled an arm around, and she rested her cheek on his opposite bicep. He couldn’t remember ever feeling anything quite like it.

“What is it you’re afraid of?” he asked softly.

“The noises.”

He listened. “That’s just the wind in the cracks.”

“It’s scary.”

“Nah. It’s only air moving around. Did you ever have a birthday cake with candles?” Her head nodded against his shoulder. “And you blew them out?”

She nodded again.

“That was wind. The air you blew. That’s all it is, only bigger.”

She tucked a hand between his arm and her cheek and wiggled closer. It gave him a warmth deeper than her body heat.

“Still scared?” he whispered into her hair.

“No.”

“Good.” As her breathing slowed and deepened, he closed his eyes against the softness of her hair and sank into sleep.

Her skin was hot, and his breath was tight. Smoke filled the room. It began to glow. Chair legs separated him from the child. He reached, his breath echoing in his ears. The glow turned orange, burnt orange. Her screams split the silence. “No!” Cal jolted awake.

His chest had drenched Maddie’s back where she lay, undisturbed by his jolt. Dropping his face into his hand, he sucked air into his lungs and smelled smoke. Looking up, he saw the stove was out. Had that and the child’s body heat conjured the dream from hell? It didn’t take much these days.

In the dimness of the coming dawn, he looked at Maddie’s sleeping face. She might have been his little girl. The thought felt strange and unfamiliar. Why not? If Laurie had given him a chance … He stroked a finger over Maddie’s hair, then looked across at Luke. He was burrowed down into the covers, but his breath misted in the chilled air.

Slipping out, Cal crept to the stove, balled up some newspaper, crossed a handful of sticks over it, then laid a log on the top. His hand shook as he struck the match on the box. Flame licked up, golden white, warming his fingertips. He held it to the paper, and it took hold, growing and engulfing. He watched it spread like a live thing to the edge of kindling and curl the skin of bark from a stick. Sitting back, he closed his eyes and absorbed the heat.