Creighton's Hideaway (10 page)

Shana stared off into the distance, her mood matching the mist that now blanketed the land. “But when I got into college, I saw how much he'd sheltered me. I had a talk with myself about finding my own job and doing things on my own.”

Encouraged by Valerie's smile, Shana paused and decided to continue. “I didn't have to make a lot of choices that other kids do while growing up. Even when I started classes at the university, Dad set up advisor appointments and took care of a lot of paperwork I should have done for myself.”

“Nothing wrong with learning independence,” Valerie commented.

Shana shook her head. “I have no idea why I'm even saying this! Maybe it's the gloomy weather. I've been going over my notes. People in recovery grew up in environments hard for me to imagine. For some reason I feel guilty because I had it so easy and was oblivious to the home life other kids may have had growing up.”

“God watches over all His children.”

“I've faced my own shallowness.” Shana tapped her drying teabag against the saucer, ignoring Valerie's comment about God. “Now I need to stop beating myself up and figure out how to make a difference once I have degree in hand.”

“You know, Shana, we can only go so far on our own. I reach the end of myself on a daily basis and then have to rely on a strength far beyond my own.”

“If you're talking about God, or the Lord according to Creighton…I don't want to go there.” Shana focused on the soft blues and browns of the quilt hanging on the opposite wall. She could almost hear the tick, tick, of passing time.

“Are you musical?”

Shana blinked at the change of subject, and admired Valerie's flexibility as she rose up on a knee and reached over the sofa back to the table. Settling a black hymnal on her lap, she opened it and looked back at Shana.

“Did I imagine that I heard you humming soprano this morning?”

“No, you didn't imagine it. Beethoven. I had never heard the words before.” Shana stood up to stretch the kinks out. “I sang in choral groups when I was in high school and college.”

“Then you read music. Creighton has placed a hymnal in all the cabins. When your heart is heavy, turn to the index for a list of titles under worship.” Valerie's smile reflected the serenity of the quilt. “You might be surprised how many lyrics refer to nature. I'll bet your heart will be lifted. Do you enjoy singing?”

“Oh, I do. I haven't taken the time lately.” Shana nodded at the book where Valerie's sun-freckled hands rested.

Valerie opened the hymnal and scanned a page. “Here's one. The lyrics include nature words—rocks and trees, skies, birds, morning light. These hills heal the spirit. I am so thankful to come and reap the benefits of this place.” The older woman turned the book so both could see the score. Valerie began to sing.

Shana joined in on the second verse. By the time the song was finished, a lovely alto/soprano duet, Shana felt less burdened. She reached over and gave Valerie a long hug, then took her leave. The newly forged friendship filled a lonely spot in her heart.

Later from her deck, she perused the landscape from all four directions. She chose the west side, content to lose herself in the activity of the creek. Clouds that had lingered throughout the day covered the horizon. However, the bottom half of the sun burst through the clouds with the orange-red glow of molten lava before it disappeared behind the cloud cover. She detected electricity in the air and rubbed her arms at the sudden chill of the wind.

No wonder Creighton chose to stay near his creek way out here in the boonies. A person could get lost in the beauty of nature, ignoring the ugliness of reality.

 

****

 

Creighton shut off the radio. A storm was imminent. Had he shown Shana the blanket drawer underneath the bed? If the storm hit, she would need the extra heavy-duty sleeping bag stored there.

He ambled through the common room, pleased as he remembered word play over their game of Scrabble. Since Shana had been here the night before, the ranch house rooms resonated with emptiness. He built a fire and hoped she'd be warm enough this night. Creighton reclined where he had sat twenty-four hours earlier, and brooded, staring into the red and yellow flames.

When he detected blue flame, Creighton broke his contemplation of the fire. He couldn't believe his own imagination when he pictured Shana nursing a baby, their baby, in the armchair near the fireplace. The beautiful image of Shana, not to mention a little someone, had barged in on his comfort zone. He scrubbed his hands down his face, trying to erase the vision. The telephone rang.

Two more rings jangled as he crossed the room to the kitchen counter.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Bro. What kind of answer is that?”

Creighton shook his head once again. Was he hearing things? “Tom?”

“That's me. Thomas James Rice through the air to your landline. Watching the weather channel. You're in for it, looks like.”

This was crazy. How long since they had talked? Three years?

“Wow, Tom, you took me by surprise. Yeah, I was just thinking I need to get some candles handy and make sure the batteries are up for the flashlight. Not to mention there's a new tenant, and she's kind of a city slicker.”

“I won't keep you, then.”

Silence on the line. Creighton had nothing to say. Seemed all their lives what he said had grated on his younger brother's nerves.

“Got a letter from Rita awhile back,” Tom said. “Can you imagine us being uncles?”

“It's gonna be something all right. Maybe we'll see you for the big event?” Since Tom had been on the East Coast for seven years, he'd only traveled back to Nebraska a couple times.

“I might just surprise you before that. Maybe even come to Nebraska for the holidays. My fiancée has never seen a ranch except in the movies.”

“What's that? You're getting married?”

“Can you believe it? I'm taking the plunge before my big brother.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“That's terrific, Tom. I'm happy for you.” At least, he tried to sound happy. But a lifetime of rubbing each other the wrong way stood between them.

“Thanks. The line's getting some static so I'll let you go do what you gotta do.”

“Hey, thanks for calling!” Creighton said before hanging up.

Lightning flashed. He headed for the pantry door. He set candles out on the kitchen counter and placed three large ones in a box. Vanilla and spice, thanks to Rita. He hoped Shana would approve, instead of preferring floral scents. The candles went into a plastic sack with an extra flashlight. He grabbed a slicker and ventured into the electrically charged night.

 

****

 

A strobe-like flash of lightning brightened the dark cabin.

Shana shivered. She wore layered shirts and two pairs of pants.
There has to be a way to heat this place.

Her next thought was of Valerie. She pictured her new friend in long woolen underwear underneath two skirts; and one of those knit caps with braided ties. That produced a giggle that at least tickled her insides.

Shana grabbed the quilt from the bed and curled back into the corner of the sofa to watch nature's display through the wide windows.

Lightning zigzagged across her view. Thunder clapped. A tree limb snapped. Rain hammered the metal roof. The door exploded with sound. She jumped at the noise behind her and the quilt slid to the floor. At the sound of Creighton's muffled voice, Shana scrambled from the couch. She opened the door and stepped back so he could enter.

He pushed a plastic sack at her from underneath his slicker, freed himself of his rain gear, then pulled the door closed behind him. “Whew! That came up fast.” His eyes glistened with excitement with the next streak of light.

“You like storms, I take it?”

“Can't help myself.”

They grinned like kids in the rousing atmosphere.

“Candles,” he said, pointing at the sack she held close. “Flashlight.”

“I haven't even turned the lights on. We don't have electricity?”

He flipped a switch, light glowed for an instant. But the next burst of lightning came within seconds, and then the room plunged into deeper darkness.

“No lights now.” Creighton chuckled. “Good thing I came when I did.”

He pushed the button on the flashlight in his hand, and switched the ceiling light off. He handed the flashlight to Shana and crossed to kneel at the side of her bed. “I think I forgot to show you this the other day.”

She felt rooted in place on the braid rug, mesmerized by the intriguing sight of Creighton as he pulled open a wide drawer that she had no idea existed.

He stood, displaying a black nylon sack held in both hands. “Sub-zero sleeping bag.”

Creighton tossed the roll on his shoulder and shoved the drawer closed with a booted foot. Then, with a flick of both wrists, he unfurled his cargo across her bed.

The room seemed extra small all of a sudden, filled with him, as he touched her bed. He then stood so close to her, the rattling of her insides was enough to compete with the clacking branches outside.

He reached for the plastic sack she gripped.

Her breath came out in a rush as she let go.

“Mercy, your hands are like ice.” He set the sack on the table, and then removed another flashlight and three candles in jars with handles.

Lightning brightened the room again.

Creighton blocked her view of the table and took her hands in his. He wrapped her cold fingers within his grasp. She held her breath yet again when he placed them on his chest underneath the open plaid shirt. Her fingers heated in rapid succession where they rested against the ridged nap of his dark turtleneck.

A crack and crash from the elements swooshed the air from her lungs.

Creighton dropped her hands. “Ouch, that was close.” He gave a head shake and strode away from Shana. He yanked open the kitchen drawer that held matches in a tin and proceeded to light the candles.

What was close?
Shana tracked Creighton's movements.
Their mounting awareness of one another, or the turbulence outside?

Flames flickered above the lit candles. Shana wrapped her arms around her middle. She realized she was crying when the candlelight wavered through the moisture from her eyes.

Creighton stood rigid as a post where his hands gripped the sofa back. When he finally turned, she lifted shaky fingers to brush the tears from her cheeks.

“What's wrong?” His voice was gruff.

“I, I, don't know.” She sniffed and fought her inner chill. “I've been ill at ease ever since I interviewed those patients for my thesis. All of a sudden, I feel guilty and I don't know why. I've been trying hard to ignore this skin-crawling notion that something is really wrong.” Tears streamed faster. “And somehow I feel that my life is threatened. I can't explain it. I know it sounds crazy.”

Creighton stepped closer.

She sucked in a breath.

He groaned and held her close.

“So much has hit me! This glorious land where you live. Valerie's kindness.” Her words came out muffled against his broad chest. Her eyes drifted shut. “The wildness of the storm. Your nearness, churning me up inside. I like being near you, but I never know if you'll be decent and almost kiss me, or if you'll be moody and act like you don't want me around.”

He tightened his hold. “I'm trying to sort out my own feelings here, Shana. You've got me mixed up, to say the least. You don't know my background. If you did, you'd run. I will say, that whatever you're feeling about me, I probably feel the same way about you. I sure do like to hold you like this.”

“But I'm a mess right now!” She choked on a sob. “All emotional. I have a job to do. Young people depend on me. I'm used to making plans and doing things in order.” She drew a shaky breath and pulled back. “Maybe I've had too much time to think. Wishing I was there to help Rita. She's doing both our jobs.” She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. “I need to stay here and finish writing. I think this place is growing on me. But after the call from Rita, I'm torn. I feel I'm needed back at The Pines.”

They clung to one another while the storm raged around the cabin.

One of Creighton's hands caressed Shana's hair and the other rubbed circles up and down her back.

Bit by bit, muscle by muscle, she relaxed in his warmth. When she let out a ragged breath and started to move back, Creighton released her. She held on to his corded forearms, and he cupped her elbows.

“Sorry to lose it.” She let out on a quivery breath. “And thanks.”

Absorbed by his touch, she valued his appreciation of the life and land around him. Heat stirred and spread through her like the lava-colored sky she had witnessed at the end of the day. Had she gone through her busy, career-oriented world half asleep? He made her feel safe in his strong arms, yet stirred her up inside.

Creighton looked away and released her, creating physical distance between them, but they had bonded on some intrinsic level.

“It'll be chilly in here tomorrow if the rain keeps up. I've stored an electric heater under the bottom pantry shelf.” He indicated the candles. “Course, it only works if the power's back on.”

“And if it isn't?”

“You, and Valerie, have an open invitation to come to the house. She's made herself at home there before. She just ignores me while she types away at her laptop.”

“And what do you do on chilly, wet days?” She shot him an impish half smile.

“Cook. Catch up on laundry. Try a poem, or two. Read.”

“I could always beat you at Scrabble again.”

He groaned, pulling a laugh from her. “On that note I'll head back,” he said. Creighton shrugged into his rain slicker, and then tousled her hair as he passed.