Facing the Fire. Gail Barrett
if we can get through.”
“And if we can’t?”
“We’ll figure something out.”
That remark was so typical of Cade that, despite her fear, the corner of her mouth curved up. “How many times have I heard that line?”
He lifted his uninjured shoulder, and she marveled again at his calm. He never worried or panicked, even with a forest fire licking his heels. He excelled when things got tough.
His confidence impressed her, though, and always had. And his strength. Her gaze slid down his corded neck and broad shoulders to those big, callused hands and muscled thighs. He was a tough, capable man, all right, and it had been easy to let him take charge.
But after he’d left, none of that strength had helped her. Not during the endless nights she’d spent alone. Not when she’d discovered she was pregnant. And especially not on the desperate drive to the hospital or in that cold, white hospital bed.
Or during the grief-stricken days that followed, when loss turned to desolation.
A hollow feeling filled her chest. She’d never told Cade about the baby. When he hadn’t returned, she’d simply packed a bag and left, the same as he’d done to her.
A sliver of guilt pierced her throat. She knew she’d handled that badly. Instead of fleeing Missoula, she should have stayed and told him the truth. But she’d been nineteen years old, in an agony of pain, and so shattered she couldn’t think straight.
And what did it matter now? The past was gone. And at least she’d learned her lesson. After suffering through a childhood with a wandering father and then that lonely marriage to Cade, she wanted a man who stayed home. And she’d have one, as soon as she got them out of the forest.
Her mind safely back on track, she drove quickly along the dusty road, past the spot where they’d rescued the dog. Minutes later, their old cabin came into view. Despite her neglect, it hadn’t changed much over the years. Dead branches littered the rooftop, but the weathered logs framing the one-room structure still lent it a sturdy look.
“You still have that chain saw?”
Startled, she glanced at Cade. “You think the road’s that bad?”
“It could be.”
She sucked in a breath. If trees blocked the road, it would take forever to cross the mountain. And what if the fire came their way?
Determined not to panic, she hissed her breath back out. “It’s in the toolshed.” She parked between the trees behind the cabin and cut the engine.
Cade climbed down, and she opened her door to follow. Then she paused. She’d had a hard time cleaning that cabin, surrounded by impressions of Cade. Every chipped plate, every battered utensil had flooded her with memories, reminding her of those tender days. And the bed….
Her face flamed. No wonder she’d ignored the cabin all these years. It had been far easier to let it go than relive those delirious times. And how could she stand to be here with him now?
She had no choice. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath of pine-tinged air and stepped down. “We’ll be right back,” she told the dog and closed the door.
Fir needles cushioned her steps as she trailed Cade to the wooden toolshed behind the cabin. She tried not to walk too close, to keep some distance between them. She didn’t want to feel his heat, his power, that mesmerizing tick of desire that consumed her whenever he was in sight.
He stopped at the door and waited for her to unlock it. She stepped beside him and that smoky scent reached her nostrils, along with the essence of Cade. Her head felt light, and her pulse quickened at the vivid memories. How many times had they done this together, coming home to the cabin? But back then, they’d be laughing. Cade would pull her close and nuzzle her neck….
Her hands shaking, her face burning, she fumbled to unlock the rusty padlock securing the door. She didn’t dare look at Cade.
She finally unhooked the lock and stepped back. Cade moved forward and she braved a glance at his face. His jaw was rigid, the muscles along his cheeks tense.
Without warning, his gaze met hers. And for an instant, she saw that old fire in his eyes, the urgency and passion.
And then, just as fast, it was gone.
Unable to breathe, she yanked her gaze to the ground. And suddenly, an ache swelled in her heart, along with a deep sense of loss, as if something special had disappeared from her life, something unique. A connection, a sense of destiny she’d never felt with anyone since. And maybe never would again.
Her throat cramped as Cade shoved the creaking door open and stepped past her into the shed. His boots tramped hard on the wooden floor, and his wide shoulders filled the narrow doorway. She blinked back the blur in her eyes.
Seconds later, he turned and handed her a coil of nylon line with an old wooden clothespin stuck to it. Somehow the rope made her feel even worse, and the wedge in her throat grew thicker. It shouldn’t have been fun washing their clothes by hand, stringing that line across the cabin in the winter, letting the clothes dry by the heat of the woodstove while they made love on the bed. But dear God, she’d adored this man.
She looked at his unyielding face and just then, it struck her. The deep bitterness he felt, the resentment. The fierce anger he’d fostered for years.
He blamed the collapse of their marriage on her.
But that was crazy! He was the one who had left. He’d chosen his job over her.
But he didn’t see it that way. A sick feeling spiraled through her stomach. Oh, God. “Cade, I…” Her voice shook, and her heart battered hard against her rib cage. “Back there, when we were catching the dog, you said, you thought I’d…that I’d abandoned you.”
He stilled, and the muscles along his jaw tensed. “You’re trying to tell me you didn’t?”
“Yes. I mean no, I didn’t, I never…”
“Right.” Bitterness seeped through his voice. “Well, you sure as hell fooled me.” He made a sound of disgust and turned away.
And her heart balled even tighter. She never would have abandoned Cade. She’d loved him back then, truly loved him, with a passion bordering on desperation. He’d been the center of her world, the hero of her childhood dreams—or so she’d thought.
But even when he’d crushed those dreams, she’d never intended to hurt him. She’d just been too wrapped up in her own misery to do anything more than flee.
She gazed at his rigid back and her heart wrenched. She had to tell him that. Even if it didn’t change how he felt, he needed to know the truth. He probably wouldn’t listen to her now, and with the fire at their backs, this wasn’t the time. But somehow, before they reached Missoula, she would explain.
He lifted a plastic fuel container with his left hand, shook it, and handed it back. Then he pulled the chain saw from the shelf. “When was the last time you used this?”
“I never have.”
“Hell. The damn thing probably won’t run.” He set it on the ground outside the shed, turned back and grabbed an ax. He set that down next to the chain saw.
“That’s it,” he said, still sounding angry. “Let’s go.”
Her heart weighted, she tucked the clothesline under her arm, picked up the chain saw, and headed toward the Jeep. She heard Cade close the shed door behind her.
He helped load the tools through the rear window, and every jerk of his arm, every twist of his head tightened her nerves, reminding her of the unfinished business between them. Still, she was thankful for his silence. With her emotions so raw, she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“The trail starts just past that boulder,” he said when they’d climbed back into the