Brave (5 page)

He
abruptly slid out of the chair, and my fingers caressed his warm skin
as his hand slipped out from beneath mine.

“You
need to sit so you can read the description. I’ll get you some
coffee. Would you like something to go with that? I can make some
waffles, or I have eggs.”

“Mmmm,
waffles sound really good.” I glanced at him and he turned
quickly away, as if in some kind of pain.

He
set a cup of coffee down in front of me. “I hope it’s up
to your standards. Cream? Sugar?”

“Just
cream, please.” I noticed a tool on the table and picked it up.
Turning it over in my hand it looked like some kind of…carving
tool. I noticed small flecks of wood on the table. “You carved
the walking stick last night?”

He
looked over his shoulder at me as he stirred the batter, but didn’t
speak.

It
was my turn to huff. “Dakota, we’re going to be together
for a while until this blizzard blows over. Trapped together in this
cabin. Are we really not going to get to know each other? Is that
what you really want?”

He
stopped stirring the batter, his shoulders and back rigid. “I
don’t want you here. I know that’s rude.”

“That’s
supposed to be the big news of the day? I’m aware that you
don’t want me here, and that saying it is rude.”

That
made his shoulders tighten.

“But
this is your place and I did trespass,” I continued. “I’m
sorry about that. There wasn’t a cabin here the last time I
visited.”

“We’ve
owned the land since the fifties,” he said, going back to
making waffles. “My grandfather bought it when he got out of
the army after the Korean War. We built the cabin two years ago. What
were you doing all the way up here?”

“I
was exploring. I always sent a picture to Charlie of the places I
discovered. We had a pact. He couldn’t travel much.”

After
a moment he turned around and leaned back against the counter while
one of the waffles cooked. He looked down, his thick lashes covering
that piercing gaze. When he looked at me, his clear gray eyes were
troubled. “Oh, so you hiked here the first time?’ He
removed that waffle and poured the batter for another.

“We
have a cabin in Aspen, but closer to the city. I usually skied a lot
when we were there, and never really ventured far. That time, though,
I was looking for something to photograph for Charlie, and it was my
last day here. So, I drove through the pass, then parked and hiked.
When I found this place—the view—man, I had to send it to
him. He was blown away.”

My
throat got tight and my chest compressed. “Charlie had prints
made and put them up on his walls.” I paused remembering how
happy he’d looked. “I’ve sent him pictures of the
Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty. I’ve been to the Great
Wall and the glaciers of Alaska. I’ve seen the bulls in Spain
and gone swimming in the Caribbean. But Charlie loved the pictures of
this place more than any other. He wanted so desperately to come
here.” I could feel tears tracking down my face as my heart
squeezed over the pain Charlie had to endure, not only physically,
but mentally, living his life shackled, imprisoned by his disease and
the anguish of his parents’ apathy.

After
removing the last waffle, Dakota saw my tears. He rushed over and
squatted down. He didn’t touch me, but it felt exactly as if he
had due to the deep compassion in his eyes. “I’m sorry
about your friend, Alissa.”

The
ache in my throat intensified, and I tried to swallow again, to
unblock the agony of emotion clogging my chest. The light and the
dark of Dakota drew me, the nuances in his eyes played over me like
the soft strains of some music I couldn’t quite hear. I knew
the chords and the melody, but identifying them was beyond me, the
name wouldn’t come to me. I desperately wanted to know that
song, to not only let the beauty of it mesh with me, flesh and bone,
but let it into the depths of my very soul. What was it about him
that always made me feel like I knew him as I knew myself?

He
almost reached out, but drew his hand back. “When the snow
melts and it’s easier to get up here, you can bring him here if
you want.”

His
generous offer only made my throat tighter and more tears fall. I
knew what that had cost him. I just stared at him. A half-forgotten
memory of a razor blade and blood jarred me. I had put it behind me,
but sometimes I needed a jolt to understand that I was alive. Even in
Dakota’s isolation, he couldn’t help making the offer. It
was in his nature. I knew courage when I saw it, and I wanted to draw
from its source. I needed it so desperately right now.

“You’re
looking at me like that again, Alissa.”

He
was so darned
attractive
,
but not just in the way he looked…it was all that stuff I saw
in his eyes that I wanted to explore. I wiped at my tears and leaned
forward. “Stop being a hero, and I’ll glare and scowl at
you all you want.”

He
rose, snorted, and shook his head. Heading back to the counter, he
started fixing the waffles. “You’re pretty feisty for a
lightweight.”

His
words were grudging, and I thought then that maybe he saw what
Charlie had seen in me. Charlie who had put all his hope and trust in
me. “Hey, being tiny doesn’t make me a lightweight.”
My voice wobbled a bit as I brushed at my tears and sniffed, totally
ruining my bravado.

“Okay,
killer, here are your waffles.”

It
was my turn to snort.

“So
does this mean there’s a truce?” I tried a smile. “We
can talk without you giving me those silent and deadly looks?”

“If
you promise not to use your pixie magic on me, I’ll concede,”
he said, still grumpy. “Just be aware, I may not want to answer
all your questions.” He then began cleaning the counter and
putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

“Fair
enough. Wait. Pixie?”

He
leaned against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand. Took a
sip. “You look like a woodland creature who crawled out of a
hollow log.”

“Well,
you look like a gorgeous knight of old who knows how to take down the
fearsome and ferocious black knight with one hand tied behind his
back.”

“Gorgeous?”
His voice was filled with genuine shock.

I
flushed. I hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but it was the truth
about what I felt. “Yeah, the drop-dead kind.”

“Sounds
like pixie magic to me. Eat your waffles. You’re going to need
the strength for all your probing questions.”

I
laughed at his disgruntled, wry tone. I looked down at my plate.
“Strawberries and blueberries? Where did you find strawberries
in the middle of a snowstorm?”

He
gave me a secret smile and the ghosts lifted for a moment. “I
have knight magic gardening skills.”

“Oh,
haha. Thank you for carving the walking stick for me. Why did you add
the flowers, they weren’t functional?”

“I
thought you would like them. Girls always like flowers.”

“I
do. Thank you for taking the extra time to make it so pretty.”

He
nodded, looking away.

“So
where did you learn to carve like that?”

He
didn’t respond.

“This
is the mission, should you choose to accept it, Mr. Grey” I
said in a singsong monotone voice. “This tape will
self-destruct in five seconds.”

He
threw his hands up in surrender. “My family owns a construction
company in Portland, and I got interested in working with wood. My
grandfather and father own the business.”

“But
you didn’t go into the business with them?” I took a bite
of the delicious waffles, the fruit and baked goodness of the
crunchy, spongy treat bursting on my tongue.

“No.
They were disappointed when I choose a different path.”

“I
know what you mean.”

“Damn,”
he said, looking as intrigued by me as I was by him. “You’re
father wants you to join the family business?”

I
wished I hadn’t started this line of questioning now, but trust
began with opening up, and I didn’t really have anything to
hide…except for what was in my Winnie the Pooh backpack.

“Yes.
Law firm. My father’s a big-time L.A. lawyer.”

“I
couldn’t imagine anything more boring. No offense.”

“None
taken. I had no intention of going into law. In his arrogant and
egotistical mind, he believes that I’m an extension of him, I
think. But it will be a cold day in hell before I follow in those
footsteps.”

He
drifted over to the table and cleared his laptop away, then sat down.
“That sounds interesting.”

“My
father talks past me, as if I don’t exist until he acknowledges
me. Then at the moment that he speaks, I materialize, although I’m
not exactly supposed to have my own thoughts. My mother barely
acknowledges me. She’s more interested in her own life and her
friends than she ever was in me. I was raised by nannies mostly, and
at least they cared for me.

“Charlie’s
parents, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, aren’t really much different
than my parents. They were disappointed in their inability to produce
a normal son. Charlie’s disease to them is nothing but a flaw,
but Charlie is worth ten times a normal person. Mr. Jenkins is my
father’s partner in the law firm. They practically do
everything together, golf, go to the club, fleece their clients.”

That
compassion of his deepened, and I needed to take a quick breath to
stay calm with his intense attention so focused on me. It was strange
and wonderful.

“I’m
just Winnie the Pooh. I smile and comply and nod and never complain.
I pledged my mother’s sorority and went to their alma mater.”

“But?”

I
bit my lip. “I didn’t exactly major in political science
like it was suggested.”

“You
made up your own mind about your life. Nothing wrong with that.”

I
laughed. “No, I don’t think so either. He never said I
had to major in political science. So I didn’t. The sad part is
I tried to tell them that I wasn’t cut out to be a lawyer. But
they didn’t listen to me, and it was the same when I had no
interest in their alma mater, or even in pledging a sorority. I had
nothing in common with those girls. Nothing I could find, anyway.”

“Not
even boys?”

I
giggled. “Okay, I’m a rebel of sorts, but I’m not
dead. I noticed the boys.”

He
took another sip and smiled softly. “I bet they noticed you.”

The
look he gave me made my heart skip a beat. “Boys will be boys,
after all.”

He
nodded. “What did you major in?”

“History.
I’m going to be an environmental historian.”

“What
exactly does an environmental historian do?”

“Well,
to keep environmental restoration projects from failing, it’s
all about analyzing historical impacts and changes in the ecosystem
structure and function. Developing a site’s environmental
history is not difficult or costly. So, hiring someone like me can
help biologists and environmental scientists understand what types of
disturbances to look for, reveal historical or archeological sites
that should be protected, and identify special problem areas where
ecosystem structure and function have been dramatically altered.”

“You’re
going to be like a female Indiana Jones.”

I
laughed again. “Well, he was an archeologist, but he protected
artifacts. So, yeah, something like that, only on a bigger scale
without the snakes and the woo-woo stuff.”

He
stood and started to clear the table, but I snatched at the plate
first. “You gave me this great walking stick, and I’m
dying to use it.” I carried my plate to the sink.

“Let
me take a look at your ankle.”

I
followed him into the living room where he unwrapped the poorly
wrapped ace bandage, my sorry attempt at binding my ankle after my
shower, his touch sure and professional. I didn’t want
professional.

Again
his hands were so gentle as he manipulated the area. The pain was
minimal.

“It’s
black and blue, but, believe it or not, it looks good. The swelling
is going down. Keep it elevated today.”

I
had an overwhelming urge to touch him, but knowing he didn’t
want that, I kept myself under control, but the pressure of it
swelled inside me.

“Make
yourself at home. There’s the TV, or you could listen to music
if you like.”

“I
have a senior project that I have to present at the end of February.
So, if you wouldn’t mind getting my laptop, I’ll work on
that.”

He
left. I settled comfortably on the couch, propping my ankle on the
rustic, beat-up coffee table.

He
returned with my laptop and handed it to me. After plugging in the
cord, he jerked his chin toward my ankle. “Keep it elevated.”
He tucked a pillow under me while my pulse raced and I melted some
more. He was impervious. “Call me if you need anything.”

I
nodded. “Thank you, Dakota, for breakfast, and for taking me
in.”

He
disappeared down the hall. Everything that had happened, that I had
felt, in the last few days jumbled up inside me. How I got here and
why I came. Dakota’s terrible episode, my deception. I thought
of Charlie and his warmth and his friendship, and looked down at the
backpack. I was determined to do what it took to make him proud of
me.
Please
don’t let me fail him.

I
started the computer and concentrated on my work. Time passed so
quickly that before I knew it, it was noon, and Dakota was looming in
the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

“Lunch?”

He
looked even more beat than he had at the table this morning. He
needed to get some sleep, but it wasn’t my place to tell him
what to do. He didn’t want me here as it was. “Yes,
please. I’m starving.”

At
the table he asked, “Where do you live in L.A.?”

“Bel
Air.”