The Wall (5 page)

good, and letting her eyes roam over the rather craggy features, she

wondered at ever thinking him unhandsome. He was in his own way

very good-looking. His dark hair was long at the back, curling over

the collar of his shirt with a slight wave, and was shorter around the

ears and forehead. It swept back with a natural curl. Sara averted her

eyes.

His dark eyes had been trained on her and he had seen her turn away

hastily. What must he think of me? she asked silently, questioning

her own reaction. In those eyes she had seen for a few minutes a

friendly gleam that had dispelled the hard quality from the afternoon.

He had laughed, too, and although it had provoked her, she had to.

acknowledge that the sound had been good. With that laughter, a

smile had curved the corners of his well shaped lips, and it had not

been a cynical twist but a genuine smile.

These thoughts made her peep back at him with a tentative smile of

her own. He was still regarding her, this time with a thoughtful

expression on his lean features. 'Do you have the time to perhaps go

for a walk down the beach with me?' she invited diffidently.

One corner of his mouth quirked as she watched. 'So I can protect

you from the big black doggy?'

Laughing at him, she replied, 'Is that such a bad idea? No, I just

thought a walk would be nice.' Greg shot another one of those

piercing glances her way and instead of answering, turned and started

to stroll towards the water.

Sara stood with the camera bag dangling from one slim hand and felt

bereft as she watched him move away. He turned, saw her standing in

an undecided attitude with dark hair blowing around her small face,

and her large hazel eyes looking rather uncertain. A flash of white

streaked across his face quickly, startling her with its attractive

gleam, then was gone. 'You can leave your camera bag over in the

ferns while we walk,' he told her. 'It'll be quite safe there.'

Her eyes lit up, and she ran back to the treeline quickly, depositing

her bag and then running back. She didn't stop at his waiting figure

but continued past until she reached the water's edge. Prompted by

impulse, she bent and untied her shoes, stripping them and her socks

off quickly, rolling her jeans up to her knees.

Two long legs joined her as she stooped and she sent a quick smile

slanting up at Greg's watching eyes. 'I haven't been wading in the

water yet, and I've been here for a week,' she remarked in

explanation, and straightened. 'You could wade if you wanted to, and

it wouldn't hurt those nice slacks if you roll them up enough so that

they don't get wet.'

She didn't wait to see what he did but went into the cool water

without hesitation. The hard wet sand gave way to soft, silky, shifting

coolness, and she dug in her toes in appreciation. A wave crept up

and licked delicately around her feet, receding almost immediately.

Another came and lapped gently at her toes, and then another. She

chuckled with pleasure and walked farther into the water until she

was in up to her shins in a continuous push and pull from the ever-

continuing waves that swirled about. She walked back to the shallow

water, kicking over some stones, with her head bent to watch in the

fading light for pretty flashes of colour. When she reached the sandy

part of the wetness, past the row of small stones thrown up by waves,

she stooped suddenly and dug in with both hands into the sand.

Water crept up and touched her feet. She shot a sideways glance at

the bare, dark brown shins that joined her in the water, then squatted

back so that she could look up at Greg.

Her dark hair was falling like rain about her shoulders and over her

forehead, and she used one arm to try and push it back, still clutching

a handful of wet sand. He squatted with her and reached out one hand

to push the hair away from her face gently. She smiled a thanks and

dropped the sand, rinsing her hands quickly. 'Look,' she said softly,

as a wave curled again about their feet, barely reaching them as it

spent itself. She dug in again under the few inches of water and

squeezed the wet sand through her fingers. It oozed delightfully,

smooth and cool and very soft. 'Under the water everything's so

magical and wonderful. It's just like silk, so soft and smooth. It's as

fascinating as the bright glints of colour from the stones that flash

under the water in the sunlight. They never look half as good dry and

at home, did you ever notice? You take them away from the beach

and you take all the magic away, all the fresh air and the crying birds

and the cold clear water. When you pick up all this wonderful silk,

this magical mess, it's just—mud.' She lifted up her two clenched

hands again and let the brown sand plop into the shallow water.

Turning her head, she was strangely touched to see him reach out and

dig his hand into the wet sand as if to see what she meant, his sombre

expression lightening at the coolness of the water and the sensation

she had so aptly described. He looked at his handful with something

akin to fascination, then submerged the handful to clench his fist

tight, squirting the sand and water.

Sara swished her hands around, the action like a small child playing

in mud, then stood wiping her clean wet fingers on her jeans. One leg

had fallen down and she rolled it up again before it could hit the

water. Some distance away Beowulf was charging into the water and

galloping back again, chasing waves and snapping jaws at the foamy

water. She laughed and pointed him out to Greg.

'He's having almost as much fun as I am,' she told the silent man at

her side with a chuckle. 'How silly we must look, playing in the

water! I'd almost forgotten how much fun it could be. It seems like

I've forgotten a lot lately, and only just came to my senses before

plunging forever into a black darkness. Or better than that, I've

escaped from a dark fortress and found sunlight for the first time in

years. I've been such a fool! I wish I'd known how special my

childhood was when I lived it! How wise children are, to enjoy the

simple things.'

He hadn't said anything in reply, but merely watched her face

intently, with a curious urgency. Sara gestured as she talked and

looked around her, providing him with several different angles to

observe her by. He watched the lively eyes and the slight tilt to her

nose, and the smiling lips that were a darker shade of the rose that

tinted her cheeks. In her eyes there shone a clear and peaceful

expression, interspersed with amusement and sometimes mischief.

She felt good as Greg tucked her hand under his arm and directed her

to walking parallel with the shore, water shooting up and swirling

around them constantly. 'Our shoes?'

He looked back briefly. 'They'll be okay. They're past the waterline

and won't get wet.'

She commented easily, 'Do you know, you're a total stranger to me? I

don't even know your last name, and I didn't even know of your

existence before this morning. Isn't that a funny thought? I've been

talking to you with an appalling abandonment!'

The sun hung low over the water, she noticed. Its bottom curve

nearly touched the horizon. The light was greying to her left and the

treeline showed almost black. The dark head of the man beside her

was tall and she looked up at the profile lit with the red of the fading

light. A quick, neat turn of the head and he was staring down into her

eyes and the shock of nearness, of his awareness cut through her like

a knifing wind. 'My last name is Pierson,' he murmured quietly. 'But

does it really matter?'

Those eyes, those warm, self-contained, lonely eyes. Sara shook her

head slightly and his arm tightened on her hand. Is intuition ever

correct? she wondered, shaken. If so, then I've known this man for

ever, and everything else has been irrelevant. Their steps slowed.

'What I'm wondering,' he said thoughtfully, 'is why you look so

curiously familiar to me.'

Realisation and sanity hit her like a blow and she jerked away on

reflex. 'No reason.' It was only a whisper; for some reason she

couldn't get out anything stronger. I don't know him, he doesn't know

me. He really doesn't know me. Please, don't let him find out who I

am. She started to hang back and took a few steps in the other

direction. 'I'd better go.'

His hand whipped out. 'No, not yet,' he began. 'I'd like to ...'

Far ahead, the black figure of the dancing dog suddenly stiffened,

and a furious barking reached their ears. Greg also stiffened, in an

attitude that seemed very reminiscent of his dog's, and he started

forward to run swiftly down the beach. The dog shot to the treeline

with a low menacing growl and Sara heard Greg shout directions at

him, pointing up to the trees, and the dog changed direction, his great

body leaping forcefully. Soon she heard sounds of yelling, and Greg

too disappeared into the trees.

Feeling deeply alarmed, she ran forward too, straining to see what

was going on under the shadow of the trees. She thought she saw a

shorter dark figure dart forward and attach itself to a taller figure.

The swiftly moving man she knew was Greg. Beowulf was attacking

someone, a trespasser. She shouted sharply, 'Don't let him bite!'

A harsh order had Beowulf slinking back from the tall figure, and the

strange man who had been attacked straightened, his breathing

audible even from where she was. She faltered to a stop just behind

Greg's shoulder, puzzled at his tenseness and very much frightened

by the danger waves she was picking up from both him and the dog.

'What are you doing here?' The words came from Greg like the crack

of a whip, and she jumped.

The other figure hesitated. 'Just taking a walk,' came from the

unknown other man. He was shorter than Greg.

'Where from?' Greg shot back.

'Up north,' the man told him, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

'That's private property too. What were you doing there?' Sara had

never heard such an ugly tone of voice from Greg and she was

growing more and more afraid without knowing why. The realisation

that he truly was a stranger was brought home again forcibly when

she heard him talk like this.

'Just exploring. I didn't mean any harm by it.' The tone from the other

man was apologetic, placating.

Greg didn't appear to be mollified. 'I want you off the property in ten

minutes,' he said evenly. Why was he in such a towering rage? He

was standing very still and very stiff, Sara could feel it from where

she stood. It impelled her to move, to place a tentative, soothing hand

on the stiff shoulder just ahead. He shook it off impatiently, and she

was so deeply hurt that she fell back. Wrong, she thought, wrong for

me to feel this way. He's nothing but a stranger. Forget it. 'If you

aren't off the property in ten minutes, I'll loose my dog after you. He

knows how to search the grounds. Got that?'

'Look, mister, I didn't mean anything by -' The man was taking

careful steps backwards.

'Get!' The word whipped the man into a faster pace, and he soon

disappeared down the beach.

Greg stood watching him go, but Sara didn't wait to find out what

happened. She turned and started running back the way they had

come, moving as fast as she could. It shouldn't hurt this way, she

thought dazedly, such disappointment in a stranger after all. I

shouldn't care.

After a minute, Greg turned and saw the fleeing slight figure in the

gathering darkness. 'Sara?' he called. 'Sara! Wait a moment, will you?

Sara!'

She increased her pace until she was running as fast as she could, her

breath coming heavily now from ploughing through the sand. She

didn't seem to be going anywhere. It was like a nightmare that she

had once had, of being chased and not being able to get anywhere

though she tried and tried.

'Don't run so fast!' The words were shouted at her, and she heard

pounding feet behind her. She knew he had to catch up with her soon.

He was so much bigger and stronger for this kind of running and she