Winter's Destiny (12 page)

He sat her down at the table, pushing the soup bowl toward her.

She stared at it. “When will they…know?”

“By morning.”

Amy dropped her head into the palms of her hands and closed her eyes. She swayed and almost fell off the chair. He grabbed the flashlight off the fridge and scooped her up. Cursing his bad knee, he carried her up to the loft and laid her on the bed. Gently, he pulled the blankets over her and saw that she was already asleep.

He tidied the kitchen and then stretched out on the big recliner by the fire. He hadn’t intended to stay at the cabin, but he couldn’t leave her in her current state either. He slept peacefully until a scream woke him hours later. Grabbing the flashlight, he dashed upstairs. Amy was thrashing in the bed, her breath coming in gasps. She called out again. “No! Help him. Help…him.” Tears streamed down her face and she struck out at the air around her.

Dallas grasped her wrists and pushed her arms down onto the mattress. She fought him. “Amy, wake up.” He dug his thumbs into her shoulders and spoke loudly, “Amy, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

Her eyes flew open and she sat up. “Oh Gramps, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She dropped her head onto his shoulder. Tears soaked his shirt. He stroked her hair. “It’s okay, Amy. It’s okay,” he said gently.

Dallas held her until she drifted back to sleep, then covered her and went back downstairs. He picked up the poker and stoked the fire, anger burning in his gut. He knew the fire at old man Hadden’s was arson. Somewhere out there were two of the worst creatures known to man. Dallas swore aloud.

He repositioned his chair and sat back down, too angry to sleep. Around dawn he drifted off, only to awaken a couple of hours later with a start. Amy stood over him, wrapped in a blanket, her long golden hair shimmering in the early morning sunlight. He sat up with a jolt, wondering how long she’d been there.

Amy pulled the blanket around her and gazed down at Dallas. She had stood that way for some time, watching him sleep, sprawled out in the armchair. She didn’t know a man like this existed. He had saved her life at great risk to his own. The paramedics told her no one else would risk a rescue. It was too dangerous. Why did he do it?
 
They told her the roof collapsed right after he entered the house, but he still carried her out. Did she thank him? She couldn’t remember.

Dallas stirred and sat upright. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Amy nodded and sat gingerly on the edge of the armchair opposite him. “I’ve been trying to remember if I thanked you,” Amy paused, “They said I was crazy to have gone into that burning building, but my grandfather means everything to me.” Her voice broke and she took a breath before continuing, “What I don’t understand is, why you went in. You risked your life.”

Dallas ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in the chair. “I don’t see it that way. It was something that had to be done, that’s all. A man can’t get hung up thinking:
if I go in there this could happen or that could happen.
Hell, nothing would get done in this life, at that rate. You see a window of opportunity, you jump in.”

Amy stared at him in amazement. “Well, your window of opportunity looked like a wall of flames to everyone else.”

“Maybe.”

She hesitated, “I appreciate what you did,” she said softly. “More than you can imagine. I can’t even fathom the kind of man who would do something like that, especially for someone you hardly know.”

He waved her suggestion away.

Still hugging the blanket Amy wiggled deeper into the armchair and tried to collect her thoughts. “I also want to apologize for last night. I think I was a disaster. You must be wondering what kind of weird person I am.”

Seeing her discomfort, Dallas slid forward in his chair. “Hell no,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers as he searched for the right words. “Not at all. You’re a very special woman, Amy. I’ve seen you over the years and heard you at the town hall meetings. You’re a quiet, intelligent, self-possessed, woman. And you’ve got courage. Even though I think you were crazy going in that burning house, I respect why you did it. It took a lot of guts. Not many people, men or women, would have done that.”

“I couldn’t leave Gramps in there.” Amy swallowed hard.

Dallas nodded, getting up to stoke the fire. Soon flames danced and their warmth took away the night chill. “You know, the situation you’re in is tough. And I’ve got a feeling things will get a lot tougher.”

Amy considered that. “If that’s true, I hope I’m up for it. Feels like I’ve been pushed to the brink these past days, and sometimes I’ve thought, ‘I can’t take anymore!’ but like it or not, I find that I can. I guess that’s how you grow as a person, but I don’t know whether it’s good or it’s bad. If it is for the better, it’s probably the only good coming out of this situation.” She saw his expression and added, “that is, besides meeting you.”

The intensity of his look shook her. She had been living on the edge for days. Her world had tilted and she now resided in a dark and terrifying place. The only time in these past days that she had felt safe or saw light, was in this man’s presence. At those moments the world righted itself, and she wanted it to stay that way. She wanted to find Jamie, Gramps, and her twin, and end the violence.

“You are such a good man, Dallas. You have incredible inner strength. What you did for me last night was beyond comprehension. It was astonishing. In this room, now, with you, I actually feel
whole
again.” He was strong and confident. A special warmth radiated from him and she wanted to move closer to it, and to him. She wanted that desperately. But something held her back.

His pale blue eyes met hers and she felt her breath leave her, reminding her of the first time he had done that to her, and how uncomfortable it had made her feel.

He reached over and touched her face, his thumb running along her cheekbone. She sat perfectly still. His touch was warm and gentle. He was so close. She wanted—no! He dropped his hand and leaned back, studying her. Then, abruptly he stood and walked over to the cabin door where he plucked his jacket from the coat hook. “We’re low on firewood. Water’s hot if you’d like a bath.”

Amy stood up quickly, the blanket cascading to the plank floor around her feet. Picking it up, she swung it over the back of the chair, and hiked up the jogging pants. A bath sounded good.

The water was warm and soothing and she sank down in the tub as low as she could without dousing the burns on her hands and arms. Tilting her head back, the water swirled around her scalp lifting the smoky odor from her hair. Shampoo and soap were on a shelf above the tub and she made use of them, using her fingertips. Finally she soaked, the warm water caressing her aching muscles.

There was a tap on the door and it opened wide enough for a stack of clothes to make their way onto the bathroom counter, before swinging shut again. She smiled and closed her eyes.

Immediately, her thoughts flew to her grandfather’s burning house. How had the fire started? Was it the stove? An electrical short? Or…was it intentionally set? Then she remembered the threat she’d received.
You made a big mistake calling the Sheriff.
Amy sat up so fast water splashed over the lip of the tub. Her breath left her.

Did he see me with the sheriff? Did he make Gramps pay for that? What have I done?

By the time she was able to regain her composure enough to get out of the tub, the water was cold. She toweled off and inspected the stack of clean clothes: jeans, a blue plaid shirt similar to the one Dallas was wearing, cotton socks, soft bra and—she held them up—French cut panties. The fit was about two sizes too large, but the clothes were clean.

When she opened the bathroom door, she found Sanville’s sheriff bent over the oven door, fork in hand, toasting bagels. He looked at her and frowned. “Too big, huh?”

Amy tugged at the jeans, examining the fit. “I guess she’s a little shorter and bigger around.”

“They belong to my ex. Ellen and I used the cabin a lot after my parents moved back to Texas, so we kept clothes here. When she left me, she was mad as hell. Never came back for her things, so I threw them in boxes and put them in the storage room.”

He plucked the bagels from the oven, dropped them onto plates, and pushed them across the small table. Then, he reached around for the coffeepot. “Breakfast is served,” he announced, setting a pot of honey beside the toast. “Luckily, I had a bag of bagels in the truck. They were for the office. We each bring something, and donuts aren’t allowed.”

Sitting at the plank table, Amy found herself eye level with a framed wall photo of a young girl about ten. Her long dark hair was knotted into a sporty ponytail; her cool blue eyes looked right at Amy, and a capricious smile played on her lips. “Your daughter?”

Dallas looked up. “Maya. My ten-year-old. That picture was taken last summer, right after she creamed me at tennis,” he said with a grin. “She wants to be a lawyer, or rather, a prosecutor. She says there’s a distinct difference. She’s fed up seeing criminals go free, so
she’s
going to change all that.”

Amy smiled. “She sounds like her dad. She must be fun to have around.”

“She is, when I get to see her. Ellen doesn’t want me interfering in their busy lives. I guess that’s my ex’s way of retaliating for all the years that I was too busy for them. They have a new lives now, or so Ellen says.” Dallas smeared honey over his toast. “Two months after we were divorced, she married a retired English professor. Dr. Do Little. Or Do Nothing. He’s now acting father to my daughter.”

Amy could hear the sarcasm and hurt in his voice. “You miss them?”

He applied another layer of honey to the toast. “More than you can imagine. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think about Ellen or Maya and the life that we had. Problem was, I put the job ahead of my family for fifteen years. Thought it was the right thing at the time. But it’s too late to change that now.”

Amy could see pain in his eyes. “Sounds like you still love your wife.”

Dallas took a deep breath. “Never was any other woman. Just Ellen. Guess I’m a one-woman-man,” he paused, “Or was.”

Amy watched him. “Must have been lonely after they left.” Amy fidgeted with her plate. “Have you ever gone out—you know—with anyone?”

Dallas shook his head. “Nope, never thought of it.” He put down his bagel. “That is, ’till just recently.”

Another hot flush gave Amy away. “I don’t mean—I mean—that’s not what I mean.”

Dallas laughed at her discomfort. “I know what you mean, Amy,” he said reaching over for her hand.

His touch sparked an emotion so intense that it left Amy speechless. She gaped at him then turned away quickly. What was happening to her? As they cleaned away the breakfast dishes, Amy asked, “Were you born in Dallas, Texas by any chance?”

“That’s exactly where I was born. Mom’s hometown. Grew up there.”

Amy smiled, “And that’s where the slight drawl comes from.” She ran water into the sink and was about to immerse her fingers when Dallas stopped her.

“I’ll wash.” He told her. “You don’t need those burns in the dishwater.” They changed places. “I don’t hear a southern drawl. Do
y’all
?” he asked, emphasizing it.

Amy laughed and reached for a towel. When they were finished she turned to him. “I hate to keep bugging you about this, but I was wondering if there’s any news about Jamie?”

Dallas shook his head. “Nothing. I called in and talked to Debbie while you were in the tub.”

Disappointed, Amy looked down. “If I don’t find Jamie soon, I’m going to go insane. I’m so worried about him that I can barely function, let alone think straight.”

Dallas pulled the plug on the soapy water. “We contacted Jamie’s teacher. She says that Dan called her to say he was taking Jamie on vacation and that they’d be gone a couple of weeks. Same story right across the board. We’re keeping an eye on your sister-in-law’s house, the clinic, the hospital, and Dan’s apartment. The man seems to have temporarily vanished. We checked the outbound flights from Portland airport and we broadcast the tags statewide. No one’s seen his Mercedes or his sister’s Camry.”

Amy gaped at him. “Can we back up a bit? What did you say about Dan having an apartment?”

Seeing Amy’s expression, Dallas dropped the washcloth and dried his hands. “You didn’t know.”

Amy began running her towel back and forth over the same square of countertop. “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know.”

He reached over and put his hand over hers to stop the repetitive motion, and then put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to him. “Listen to me, Amy. You’re well respected in Sanville, something your husband isn’t. Your designs are outstanding; people rave about them. You’re a good mother; I’ve seen you with Jamie at the rink in the winter, at parades in the summer, at McDonald’s, at the park, at the fair, heck I’ve seen you a lot over the last few years. And I’ve seen the doc too. God knows, there must be something wrong with that man.”

His hands felt strong on her shoulders, and in some way they seemed to transmit his inner strength to her. She put her forehead against his shoulder and he pulled her into him, his arms closing around her, his warmth wrapping her protectively like a cocoon. Dallas stroked her hair and she closed her eyes, his masculine scent filling her nostrils. She tilted her head and looked up. His lips brushed her forehead. Then he pulled back.

Amy stood there, her heart racing. That had felt so good. It had been years since she’d been held like that. But was this right? With Dan’s years of infidelities and his walking out on her, was she free to be with another man? She glanced up at Dallas. He was a calm, courageous, dedicated man—a good person in every respect. Any woman in her right mind would consider themselves lucky to be in her shoes. Amy wanted to be with him, but she turned away. She needed air and she needed it now. Stuffing her feet into her sneakers, she said shakily, “Think I’ll go for a walk,” and she bolted for the door, yanking her jacket off the wall hook on the way by. She jogged down the path and into the clearing where she burst into a full-blown run, her feet flying down the dirt trail.