At the Edge of a Dark Forest Page 9

  The God who’d brought Cole into her father’s life. And hers.

  She stepped into the dining room, wobbling on the low heels. Cole sat filling his mouth using a fork while reading a book. He looked up and choked, dribbles of food spilling over his lips.

  She scanned the front of her outfit. “Is something wrong?”

  He cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “You’re wearing a dress.”

  Why did he look like he’d seen an aberration? Carly wanted to flee.

  He waved her in. “Don’t just stand there. Mrs. Rivera’s keeping your dinner warm.” His features softened with a crooked smile, his eyes warming as he observed every inch of her. “I guess now we know what took you so long.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. She sat at the table and shook out the linen napkin.

  Mrs. Rivera came through the swinging door carrying her dinner plate. “Oh, Carly, you look lovely tonight. Is that a new dress?”

  “No. The only dresses I own are sundresses. The weather’s warming.”

  “You should wear them more often.” She shot a look toward Cole. “Don’t you think, Mr. Cole?”

  His gaze had not wavered from her. “Yes.”

  Carly looked into her plate as Mrs. Rivera exited. The heat of Cole’s eyes singed and chilled her at the same time. She shivered.

  “Should I turn down the air conditioning, Beauty?” The moniker held a tenderness she’d never heard before.

  She studied her meal—pork chops, twice-baked potato and broccoli.

  He lifted his myo-electric arm. It buzzed into a pointing position. “I can practice pushing the thermostat buttons. It’d be no problem. Like therapy.”

  Carly spied the grin on his face and mirrored it back to him. He’d become so accustomed to his new limbs and seemed to really appreciate the difference they made in his life, drawing her into his accomplishments.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  He forked a broccoli spear and chewed, still watching her.

  She needed to talk to him about her father, not sure how Cole would take her request. After tasting each part of her meal, she put her fork in her plate, her hands in her lap and plunged ahead. “I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news, lately.”

  “Yes.”

  “The trial against my father’s company starts in a couple weeks.”

  “Yes, I saw that.”

  “There are murmurs he might be brought up on criminal neglect charges in the case of the Marine who died.”

  “That’s just bluster.” Cole shook his head. “Lawyers threaten to drag as many names through the mud as they can to make the public see how wronged the victim is.”

  Carly’s nose tingled. It wasn’t just bluster to her and she knew it wasn’t bluster to her father, either. His reputation was on the line.

  “They’ll give up on pursuing criminal charges, making the monetary raping by the plaintiff look as though it were forgiving.”

  How could he be so cold to a family who lost their dad? “My father feels for these people.” Which is what made the situation more tenuous for him.

  Cole tilted his head.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “But he does not deserve to be held criminally responsible for something he had no part of.”

  Cole took a sip from his milk. “I sense you’re telling me this for a reason.”

  She reached for the cross at her neck. “I need to be with my father through the trial.”

  IT HIT COLE LIKE AN RPG, exploding the carefully constructed shelter he’d built around himself. “You’re leaving?”

  “Not leaving. Just taking some time off. I’ve—”

  “Is this because of what happened this afternoon? On the hike?” How could he have been so stupid?

  Carly’s fingers rubbed at the cross like a charm. “No. No. I just need to be with my father right now.”

  Would she tell her father about Cole’s suggestion of a kiss? Would she ask his advice on whether or not to allow a relationship with him? What was he thinking? Carly was looking for a reason to escape, and not a temporary one. She wanted to jump the train and never look back. Here, he’d hoped she’d dressed up for him—stupid.

  Could he keep her at the manor? “What about rehab? We were going to work on the fine motor skills for the hand.”

  “I’ve already spoken to Sam.”

  “Yes, I saw you having lunch with him on the patio yesterday.” Why did his voice sound so bitter, so jealous? He had to keep up his guard.

  “We were discussing him taking over your rehab in addition to the hippotherapy.”

  “Without consulting me first?”

  “I wanted to put the pieces together before I considered going.”

  “I see.” Cole worked the muscles in his face not to show disappointment.

  Her gaze rummaged it like she planned to memorize every turn of his expression. “I don’t think you do.”

  “You need a real break. More than an escape into a book.”

  Carly’s eyes remained locked with his. “Why do you assume people want to leave you? Do you have any idea how much you are loved?”

  Was she saying she—?

  “Your staff would crawl over broken glass for you.”

  His staff. That statement hurt more than the severing of limbs. “They’re paid well to do so.”

  Her chuckle fled a twisted grin. “They’re not paid that well.”

  Cole didn’t know whether to seethe or sneer. He did both.

  “They’re here because they love you. I’ve never seen a family love their children as much as your staff loves you. There’s a fondness between you and them that is so warm I can feel the heat whenever I’m in the room. I see it in their eyes when they speak of you.”

  “And what do their eyes say?” Pity.

  “They speak of the boy within the man. The generosity buried beneath bitterness and self-absorption.”

  “Self-absorption?” How dare they?

  “Actually, I added that part myself.” Such cockiness in those brown eyes tonight. He could no longer allow himself to be captured by them.

  “Cole, you have so much empty junk in your life you can’t see over it to the happiness others have with so much less.”

  Cole threw his napkin on the table and hoisted himself out of the chair.

  “That’s right. Leave when you don’t like the truth.”

  He turned. “If I’m so awful, then why do all these people supposedly love me so much?”

  “I never said you were awful.”

  Cole plopped back into the upholstered dining chair.

  “In fact, it’s those little teeny,” she emphasized the last word through bare teeth, “glimpses of the man underneath, that draws us all to hope for more.”

  Why did his pulse race at the word “us?” “You’re saying they hope one day I’ll be nice to them?”

  “No, Cole.” Her eyes melted into him. “Their hope is for you to be nice to yourself.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Accept the love they give you. And allow yourself to love them in return.”

  What did that even mean? Cole had no clue.

  “And accept God’s love.”

  “So He can punish me for hating Him?” Where did that come from? He didn’t even believe in God.

  Pain seemed to course through Carly’s expression before her lids lowered and rose. Her eyes searched his in a way that made him feel raw. Her lips parted on a breath. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” She whispered the words as if she’d said this phrase a thousand times. As if it was engraved on her soul.

  Died for us. He’d seen that type of sacrifice up close. It was the thorn he could never remove. The life he did not deserve. And yet Carly placed herself as the recipient of the same kind of sacrifice. What did she know about being responsible for someone else’s death?

  Died for us.

  A tear slid down her face. “Are you goi
ng to allow me to be with my father?”

  He’d let his anger get out of control again. Would he always regret his words? “You are not a prisoner here. You can come and go as you please.”

  “But our agreement? Will you still honor—?”

  “Of course.”

  She flinched at his sharp tone.

  Carly was right. He was self-absorbed. “Your father needs you. Go to him.” Cole lifted himself from the seat. “As long as necessary. Sam is a good occupational therapist. He’ll take care of me. In fact, if you feel you can’t come back—don’t bother.” He strode out the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  AT THE EDGE OF A DARK FOREST

  by Connie Almony

  “Why are you saddling my father’s horse?” Cole’s tone came out more accusatory than he’d meant it to.

  Joe Sakamoto turned. “You know I like to work them out daily.”

  “You’re going to ride him?”

  Joe adjusted the stirrups on the chestnut gelding. “No, Sam is.”

  Cole noticed the empty stall. “And where’s Miss Gray?”

  “Carly’s riding her.”

  “What?” That, he couldn’t believe.

  Joe swatted the dust from his hands. “Sam’s taking Carly around the field on Miss Gray to prepare her for a ride through the woods.” Joe’s eyes didn’t leave Cole’s, as if he was gauging Cole’s reaction.

  “How’d he get her on a horse?” Cole couldn’t imagine the woman extracting her arms from around her body long enough to climb in the saddle, let alone not yelp when it moved.

  “You’ll have to ask Sam that question.” Amusement sparked Joe’s eyes. “He can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”

  Yeah. Cole bet he could, and that made him all the more uneasy. He headed out to the field where Sam was leading Miss Gray and Carly toward the stable. Sam talked incessantly as Carly chuckled between bouts of stiffness when the animal stepped into a small hole, unsettling her in the saddle. She occasionally even giggled at herself.

  The look of intensity whenever Carly clutched the horn tighter would have entertained Cole had it not been interrupted by the jovial banter of the occupational therapist.

  She smiled at something Sam said, then looked up to see Cole.

  The smile vanished.

  Cole strode toward them, his prosthetic toe catching the edge of a hole, locking his knee. Sam stepped as if to catch him, but Cole recovered. “I hear you two are riding today.”

  Sam patted the horse, his ever-present grin larger than usual. It grated on Cole’s nerves. “Carly agreed to ride if I took over your rehab while she’s gone.”

  Cole looked between the two. Carly stared at her whitened knuckles around the horn.

  “That’s a big price to pay, Beauty, so you can get outta Dodge.”

  Sam’s face sobered. “Or so your therapy won’t be interrupted.”

  Cole smirked. “You get more like your father every day, Sam.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you don’t want us to ride …” Carly turned to slide from the horse.

  “Oh, no. Don’t use me as an excuse to get off that horse. You made your agreement with the man. Now you should ride with him.”

  “She’s not riding with me.” Sam nodded toward the stable.

  Lightning whinnied as Joe led her to join them.

  “She’s riding with you.”

  “But—” Was that panic in Carly’s eyes? “You said you’d take me through the trails.”

  “I said you’d have an expert rider with you the whole time.” By the look on the faces of father and son, it was clear they were cooking up trouble. “And you will.”

  CARLY COULDN’T READ Cole. Would he ride with her or walk away? He seemed to speak a curse to each Sakamoto with his eyes before he took Lightning’s reins.

  He stepped his right foot into the stirrup, held the horn in his left hand and swung the prosthesis over the horse. Carly marveled at the way he’d balanced the leg in the air so it would bend and straighten with the force of gravity to make the move so fluid. The muscles in his arm and shoulders flexed and relaxed under his gray t-shirt.

  The tension in the air between them seemed to sizzle and zap as Joe and Sam sauntered toward the stable apparently sharing a joke.

  “Let’s go.” Cole clucked and nudged his horse to move.

  Carly clucked and nudged, but Miss Gray stood still.

  Cole turned back. “What’s wrong?”

  “She won’t budge.”

  “Didn’t Sam teach you what to do?”

  “Yeah, but she won’t listen to me.”

  Cole led his horse back as if it were an extension of his natural limbs. “What did you do?”

  “I did this.” Carly shifted forward.

  “Use your knees more. Give a little kick.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her.”

  Cole sighed deep. “I didn’t mean kick her hard. Just a thump. “He demonstrated on Lightning. “Like this.” The horse stepped around her.

  Carly imitated as best she could. Miss Gray jerked forward, startling her. “Whoa.”

  Miss Gray halted.

  “I didn’t mean stop-whoa.”

  Cole’s face broke into a smile. He turned away, but Carly could still hear him snicker.

  He faced her again, lips seeming to fight a twitch. “Nudge her again so we can be on our way. And don’t say—uh—that word again.”

  Carly nudged and thumped and clucked, and even gave the reins a little shake. The horse moved and they were on their way.

  Cole turned Lightning to the trail, his body moving in an easy lope with the horse. “Don’t forget to lean with the hills and guide the horse away from the trees. Otherwise you’ll hit your knees.”

  Carly pulled the reins just in time for her leg to miss a trunk. She released a breath.

  “Remember, Miss Gray will go where you lead her. If that’s scraping a tree with your leg, that’s what she’ll do.”

  “Great.” She maneuvered past another close one. “Could you find a wider path, then?”

  “This is the one that takes us where I want to go.”

  And where would that be? She scanned the innards of the forest, growing denser. The lair of a beast?

  Cole led them up an incline. Carly leaned forward as Miss Gray took the hill, her heart pounding at the way the horse jerked with the climb. Why was she doing this?

  The forest was close with early summer growth. The breeze hissed through the leaves, fluttering like millions of tiny serpent’s tongues, branches reaching out as if to steal her from the horse. She almost wished they would, and save her from this ride.

  A faint trickle of water sounded from far away. It calmed her.

  Cole turned into another path then down a slight hill. Carly leaned back trying not to slide forward in the saddle and pulled the reins for Miss Gray to follow him. Could she trust this animal to get her to their destination unscathed?

  They turned again. The sound of water stronger as they mounted a small hill and came over the rise. There it was. A crystal clear stream cutting a meandering path through the forest floor, tripping over rocks and carrying fallen foliage downstream. A frog croaked, a squirrel scurried and a bird sang.

  Cole swung off his horse and led it to the water. He walked around Miss Gray and held her still as Carly dismounted, glad to be on solid ground again. Cole’s lip twitched at the deep sigh she’d released before she’d thought to hide it.

  He sat at the edge of the brook. Carly scrambled beside him. He picked up a stone and threw it in. It splashed. Would he speak to her after all she’d said to him the night before?

  “I’m sorry about how I reacted at dinner.” Cole threw another stone into the stream. A frog jumped from the mud.

  “I’m sorry about what I said. I had no right.” Carly tossed a stone in herself.

  The music of the water filled the silence. Carly let it run over her, giving her a moment of peace and contentment
. But there was something unfinished between them.

  “You never told me what happened to Beckett.” She wanted Cole to know she was still there for him. She still cared.

  He remained silent.

  Carly turned to watch him stare into the water as if it would speak answers for him.

  “I don’t know if I can.” The words were barely audible.

  “Try.”

  COLE’S GAZE MET Carly’s for a good long while before he rested it back on the stream. “You might as well know.”

  Her words last night had convicted him. She spoke truth about his self-absorption, but there was no goodness underneath.

  “I’m not the generous dragon-slayer you think my staff believes me to be.” Each breath unlocked a treasure of pain, unearthed by his words. “Beckett died because of my recklessness.”

  “Cole, men die in war. It comes with the territory.”

  She didn’t understand.

  “No.” His face burned with internal rage. “He didn’t die because we were outmaneuvered or undermanned.” His jaw grew ridged, his breath in long, drawn-out heaves.

  The concern on Carly’s face pulled him in, made him want to tell her. He’d lose her for sure when she found out, but maybe that was for the best.

  “We were directed to a house by an informant. Insurgents were suspected to have gathered there.” He swallowed the bile rising from his gut. “I checked the perimeter before we entered, in case it was a set up—a booby trap.” Cole’s head ached as if he were still hung over from that day. “I could barely complete a clear thought that morning. I’d been drinking the night before and was still feeling its effects.”

  Carly stared. Confusion, pity or censure, he couldn’t tell.

  “I lumbered around, not scanning the terrain as I normally would. This informant was a good one, so I counted on his information being solid, that no one was there. Not a smart strategy in war, and not one I would have followed sober.” He licked his parched lips. “In the hospital, when I woke, minus two limbs, I’d been told Beckett had seen a man with a cell phone on the roof across the street, and before he could yell for me to run, he threw himself on the backpack IED, effectively absorbing the blow saving all the Marines around him.”