Hummingbird Lake (20 page)

She told him how in midafternoon, the Zaraguinas rode in looking for her. She told him about Peter and how he’d attempted to protect her and how they’d shot him.

“Your fiancé,” he repeated, the rounding of his eyes betraying his surprise at that bit of news. “They killed him?”

“No.” She shook her head.
Not that day
. “He recovered, but he couldn’t stop them from taking me that day.”
And I couldn’t save him later
.

She remembered Peter, tall and lean and blond. So smart, so dedicated. Such passion for the mission. And for her.

She closed her eyes and when Colt moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace, she found the strength to continue. “They took me to another village, their stronghold. My reputation had preceded me because their leader, Colonel Ban Ntaganda, wanted me.”

His voice tight and pained, Colt said, “Aw, Sage.”

She realized then that he hadn’t believed her before. Typical male. Although that wasn’t fair. Peter had thought the same thing because, after all, they’d been living in the rape capital of the world. “Not rape. That’s not what he wanted. They were kidnappers and—”

“You were a hostage? Held for ransom?”

“Not me.” She shook her head. “The children. See, the people in the area were nomads, cattle keepers, and the bandits targeted their children because parents could sell their livestock to raise ransom money.”

“That’s evil.” Colt’s eyes glittered with anger and disgust. “Those poor kids.”

“What happened that time was that a father had already sold his cows when Ntaganda kidnapped his children. The poor man had no way to pay the ransom and Ntaganda killed the kids. Right in front of their father.”

Colt blew out a heavy, heavy sigh. “You saw this?”

“No. But it affected me. You see, the father went crazy. He somehow managed to get hold of a gun and he shot Ntaganda.”

“And you were a surgeon,” Colt said, finally getting it right.

She turned in his arms. Staring up at him, she confessed her horror. “I saved his life, Colt. He was an evil, evil man. I saved him. I never thought twice about it. I didn’t think about those children or their father. I operated on the man, removed the bullet, cleaned the wound, gave him antibiotics, and told him how to avoid infection. I saved him, Colt.”

“Ah, baby.” He brushed the hair away from her face. “Of course you saved him. You’re a doctor. That’s what you did. You treated the sick and the injured. You took an oath. You’d have saved anyone who was bleeding to death.”

Her throat tight, she murmured, “He was evil.”

“Yeah, and he’d have killed you, too, had you refused to treat him.” He met her gaze, his smile sad. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so, so sorry. I know that has to be a heavy burden for you to bear.”

And I’ve only told you part of it
.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. So I came here. To paint. To try to pick up the pieces.”

“I understand. I do.” He closed his eyes and held her tight, resting his chin atop her head. “I’ve seen some terrible things in my work. I deal with the aftermath of horror. You lived it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.
Even more than you know
.

He did understand, Sage realized, at least a little bit. That’s why he listened and didn’t judge. Didn’t tell her to forget. He simply let her talk. It was a connection she’d been able to make with him alone.

“You know, honey, even before I got to know you, I knew I’d like you. You’re beautiful, talented, smart, witty, so sexy that you make my teeth ache. What I didn’t realize was how much I’d come to respect and admire you.”

She shrank from the praise. “Why? I quit medicine.”

“You didn’t quit anything. I suspect Nic Callahan and her babies would agree. Look, you channeled your talents in a new direction. You are still contributing to people’s lives and the greater good.”

She laughed bitterly. “With butterfly paintings?”

“By bringing beauty into the world. That’s nothing to dismiss, Cinnamon.”

She burrowed her head against him. “I began painting as therapy. Light and bright and happy—that’s what I needed to combat all the darkness inside me. Those paintings started out as my anchors so that I wouldn’t get lost in the ugliness. Then, well, people liked them and they became my job.”

Sighing, she added, “They’ve lost their mojo. Painting
butterflies and fairies and rainbows no longer holds off the black-and-red storm.”

He hugged her tight. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes, baby, a storm needs to run its course. You just hang on and weather it as best you can and know that someday it’ll pass. You’ll know it in your bones. In the meantime …”

He waited until she looked up at him. “Throw in a unicorn amongst the fairies and the butterflies. He can use that horn of his to slay your dragons.”

Now her laugh was genuine. Somehow, telling him had made her feel better. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Actually, I’m cold. You ready to head home?”

“Yes.”

“Can I drive going back?”

“No.”

He held her hand as they hiked back toward the car. About halfway between the falls and the car, he stopped and pointed into the forest. “Look. There, on the ground beside that rock. There’s a flower coming up from the snow. It’s freezing and that’s a flower.”

Sage looked where he indicated. “That’s a snowdrop. They do bloom in February, they’re the first flower of the year, but I’ve never seen one outside of a garden. Wow. It’s kind of amazing to find one out here like this.” She paused, then shook her head. “Are you familiar with the snowdrop legend?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled wistfully as she recited the tale. “The legend says that after Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, Eve was about to give up hope that winter would ever end. An angel appeared and consoled her, saying that even though the land was snowy and barren, spring would indeed follow winter. Then, as a token of his promise, he blew on the falling snowflakes. When the snowflakes touched the ground,
they transformed into flowers. Snowdrops. Ever since then, snowdrops have appeared during the bleakest weeks of winter as a sign of the better times to come. They’re a symbol of hope.”

When she finished, Colt drew back. He gave her a doubting look. “You’re kidding me.”

“No, why would I do that?”

“That’s just … wow.” He shook his head. “Talk about symbolism.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Sage. It’s almost like that angel has been watching over you, and she’s planted that flower to make a point.”

Sage opened her mouth to protest, then shut it without speaking. Turned out she didn’t have a response to that.

They said no more as they completed the trek to the car, and once there, despite her earlier denial, she tossed him the keys. She was suddenly tired, borderline exhausted. She dozed the entire way back to Hummingbird Lake and woke only when he pulled into her drive. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“Wow. I can’t believe I conked out like that.”

“You needed the sleep.” He stopped the Jeep and shifted into park. “Listen, I need to run an errand in town and do a few chores at the Landrys’ place, but it shouldn’t take me more than an hour. I have to leave Eternity Springs by six tomorrow morning to catch my plane. I want to spend the time I have left here with you. All right?”

He’s leaving
. That little fact had slipped her mind for a bit. Sage tried to ignore the little pang in her heart as she nodded and said, “I’d like that, too.”

During the hour he was gone, she tackled some chores of her own, and while she worked, she once again realized that the solitude she’d prized out here on Reflection
Point now had a lonely feel to it. These past two weeks had changed her world, mostly for the better, but not entirely. She would miss Colt Rafferty when he was gone. However, after thinking it through while she mopped her kitchen floor, she decided that she still was glad he was leaving.

The man was like a dog with a bone, always pushing, always prodding, always wanting to discover a fact, solve a mystery, and piece together a puzzle. He did it in a nice way. Most of the time you didn’t even notice he was doing it. Still, she’d had enough of it.

Sage would only be pushed and prodded so far.

With today’s revelation, she’d pretty much reached her limit. Were he not already on his way out of town, she suspected she might have been forced to give him his walking papers. Because Colt Rafferty might push, but Sage Anderson planted. When she absolutely, positively, established a boundary or claimed a position, she sank her roots as deep as Murphy Mountain was tall.

She’d learned that she had to do it that way. It was how she managed to survive.

Her phone rang. It was Colt. “I’m at the Trading Post. Thought I’d pick up something to cook for dinner. Is pasta okay with you? In addition to killer chili, I make an amazing red sauce.”

“Sounds great. While you’re there, would you pick me up a gallon of skim milk, too, please?”

“Skim?”

She rolled her eyes at the pain in his tone. “Skim.”

“Okay, see you in ten.”

His red sauce lived up to his claims, but the meatballs she provided took the meal from excellent to sublime. She told him as much as she sipped a lovely Chianti. He fired back that he saved sublime for the bedroom.

She couldn’t argue with that.

Especially after he insisted on proving his point,
which he did with delicious inventiveness, spectacular enthusiasm, and amazing stamina throughout the long winter night. She finally fell into an exhausted sleep an hour before dawn and she stirred only to half wakefulness when, sometime later, he kissed her and told her good-bye.

She awoke midmorning, and before she even opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong.

I’m not alone
.

Her muscles tensed. Her pulse began to race. Colt was gone. She knew that. The bed beside her was empty, and yet … it wasn’t.

Slowly, silently, Sage cracked open her eyes and peered through her lashes.

A wicker basket lay in the space Colt had previously occupied. Something was inside the basket.

He didn’t
. Her eyes flew open wide. “He did.”

The gift he’d left was no stuffed animal or hockey stick or flavored lip balm. This wasn’t a basket in her bed. It was a bed in her bed. A dog bed.

This time, his gift had a heartbeat.

Colt Rafferty had left her a puppy. A puppy! A little white puffball wearing a red collar tied with a big red bow, curled up and asleep on a purple pillow.

A folded gift card hung from a ribbon threaded through the wicker. In a state of shock, Sage reached for it and read his bold handwriting.

She’s a bichon frise and she’s lonely. She’s had all her shots and Nic says she’s healthy and ready to be loved. I left dog food, bowls, a leash, some toys, and a silly dog sweater Celeste pushed on me in a sack in your kitchen. (Please, though, don’t humiliate the poor dog by dressing her up.
)

She’s ready for you, Sage, and you’re ready for her. You bring smiles to the lives of others through your
work. Let this little furball bring smiles to your life through play
.

—Colt

“I can’t believe he did this,” she murmured as the puppy opened her round black eyes and blinked. “Of all the nerve.”

She spoke to the empty room as if he were still there, as if he could hear her. “Rafferty, didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s wrong to give pets as gifts? Adopting a pet is a big commitment. It’s not something to do on a whim. Certainly not something to force on someone else.”

She could almost hear him answering back.
This wasn’t a whim, Cinnamon, but a well-considered, deliberate decision. She needs you. You need her
.

“No one is going to force me into keeping this puppy. I know where you got her. This is one of the Prentice family’s pups. Little Josh Prentice has been trying to find them homes for a month. I’ll load her up and take her back to them.”

No, you won’t. Look at her. Pick her up and hold her. She’s meant to be yours. You know it’s true
.

The puppy rose to her little puppy paws, and her little puppy nub of a tail began to wag. Warmth flooded Sage’s heart. “It’s a good thing you’re already gone, Rafferty, because I’d kill you otherwise.”

She picked up the puppy and cuddled her close. When the dog lifted her little puppy face and licked Sage’s chin with her little puppy tongue, Sage laughed and said, “I think I’ll call you Snowdrop.”

TWELVE

April
Tyson’s Corner, Virginia

Colt leaned against his car on the suburban cul-de-sac as he waited for the realtor to arrive to show the house he’d made an appointment to see. While he waited, he pulled out his phone to check his email. Seeing another message from Sage, he grinned and clicked on the picture. He sighed and shook his head. “Of course. I should have expected this.”

With tomorrow being Easter Sunday, she’d sent him a picture of the dog wearing bunny ears. This followed pictures of a little green leprechaun hat on St. Patrick’s Day, a green sash in honor of the anniversary of the Girl Scouts’ founding, a quilted sweater for National Quilting Day, and unfortunately, for the first day of spring, a green cape with a pink petal collar and a headpiece of pink and green antennae.