Читать книгу Last Resort - Hannah Alexander - Страница 9

Ihave to think…have to get control! Where did she go? What if she knows it’s me? She could beat me to the house, she could tell the others that I tried to kill her!

But I didn’t kill her. I stopped myself. I can stop this if I try hard enough. I can keep the fear from controlling me.

She’s just lost in the cave somewhere, scared and alone. I need to go back and find her and take her home. Maybe if I stay with the others when this thing hits…when this slow, shifting spiral into terror strikes me…their presence might force me to control my actions.

Yes. I’ll have to find her. Everything will be okay.

Carissa won’t be able to find her way back without my help. I’m in control.

I can stay in control.

Nathan took a bypass around Branson’s busiest highway, increasingly aware that Noelle’s silent observation of the passing roadside was a sign that he’d struck a nerve. This new road had very little traffic, but he waited to speak, respecting her wish for silence, until they were on the far side of Branson.

“I wish you’d at least talk to me about it,” he said at last.

She cleared her throat but didn’t answer. A few moments later, she sighed, but still didn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” he said at last. “I understand. It’s difficult. The kind of gift that you’ve been given can’t be an easy thing to live with.”

She gave a soft snort. “Gift? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“That’s what I’d call it.”

“Do you remember where I found the kitten?”

“At my grandmother’s, up the road, in the milk barn.”

“Big surprise,” she said dryly. “Cats love milk.”

“I’d just finished looking everywhere in that barn before you led me to her.”

“So I got lucky.”

“I can’t count the number of times you’ve practically told me what I was feeling without my having to say a word.”

“That happens with friends,” she said.

Nathan drove in silence for a few more moments while Noelle returned to her study of the passing hills and hayfields. She wasn’t fooling him. He knew her too well. She couldn’t deny something they had grown up knowing—she had been blessed with an unusual amount of empathy.

No, not just empathy. Intuition, too, and more…

They’d never talked about it, when they were children, because then it hadn’t seemed like such an unusual thing to them. He suspected that for the past ten or twenty years she had even tried to deny the gift completely. Or maybe she hadn’t experienced it. Noelle’s lifestyle in her late teens and twenties had not given her much of an opening for guidance by the Holy Spirit.

He couldn’t remember when she’d first shown signs of this special sense about other people. She was right, she did have a logical thought process and a natural gift for reading body language. She also had a genuine affection for people.

But there was something extra, besides all that, and the best definition he could find was to call it “a discernment.” Some might say it was unnatural, but if anything it was supernatural, a spiritual gift from God, because, somehow Nathan was sure, Noelle had never attempted to “conjure” this gift.

He couldn’t help wondering about last night, but for now he wouldn’t push it.

“Be gentle with Jill when you see her,” he said, knowing Noelle would appreciate the change of subject, even if it did mean talking about another uncomfortable issue.

“Fine. I’ll just tenderly punch her in the nose.”

He grinned as he negotiated a sharp curve past Reeds Spring. “I think she feels partly responsible for Carissa’s disappearance. Carissa was bringing back a ledger from the office for Jill to look at. You knew Jill and Cecil formed a business partnership for Cooper’s Sawmill?”

“Yes, she told me. Sounds like Aunt Pearl’s not crazy about the idea.”

“Pearl doesn’t like losing authority, but Cecil and Jill finally managed to convince her that they need to modernize if they’re going to retain their edge in the market.”

“Meaning computers,” Noelle said. “Jill told me two weeks ago that they’d already purchased two. Also that Melva’s tackling the job of entering data for the whole year, and Jill’s learning the system with her. Aunt Pearl must be fit to be tied.”

Nathan chuckled. “She hates anything she can’t understand.”

Noelle glanced at him. “But Jill has her nursing job at the clinic. How does she have time for both?”

“Maybe you should talk to her about that.”

“I did, but Jill wouldn’t listen. Remember, I’m the baby sister without a brain in my head.”

Nathan heard the frustration in her voice. Noelle and Jill loved each other very much, but they never quite overcame the clash of wills that should have been settled between them long ago—Jill’s fierce need to nurture versus Noelle’s equally fierce need for independence. Jill nurtured not only her sister, but her extended family, the patients she worked with at the clinic and the clinic staff, as well. Consequently, she had little time to nurture herself. She was often irritable and stressed.

Nathan braked for a slow moving car in front of him. “Jill’s working a lot these days, and the clinic is still desperately searching for medical personnel willing to relocate to Hideaway.”

“I know. She’s asked me at least ten times in the past month if I’d consider a position.”

“And your reply?” Nathan resisted the urge to check out Noelle’s expression.

“I told her it shouldn’t be hard to find someone,” she said. “The town caters to tourists, including medical personnel, and surely some of them could be enticed to stay permanently.”

“It hasn’t happened yet. Jill isn’t the only one who would like to see you back home in Hideaway.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance at him. “Really?” she asked softly.

“Bertie Meyer talks about you all the time. So does Carissa.”

“Oh.”

Was that disappointment in her voice? And if so, who else had she hoped would want her back in Hideaway?

He suppressed a smile. “They’ll need several new staff members if Dr. Cheyenne Gideon manages to convince the city board of directors to support a hospital designation for the clinic.” He glanced at Noelle. “You’re still a nurse. Why ignore the skills you worked so hard to learn?”

“Don’t start with me. I’ve had enough of that from Jill.”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that she’s right once in a while?”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that you’re a nag?” Noelle teased. “Besides, you’re the one who can’t settle on a career. From preacher to pharmacist in four years. You never told me why you made that giant leap.”

He gave up. She wouldn’t be pinned down, and if he tried, she’d just change the subject again. “Not much of a leap. After Natalie died, I felt overwhelmed by the pastorate, so I gave the church my resignation and went back to school to follow in my mom’s footsteps.” It was an oversimplification of a very complicated and painful time in his life, and her prolonged silence told him she knew it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Your wife was so young to be taken like that. It must have been awful for both of you.”

“I tried to be there for her as much as I could, while still trying to shoulder all the responsibilities of the church myself.” And Hideaway Community Church had become his undoing, especially after the aggressive ovarian cancer took Natalie in such a short time. “It became too much for me during her illness. I couldn’t cope with the needs of so many, and even though the church was supportive, I guess I felt like a failure.” As always, he had an uncomfortable tendency to spill his guts to Noelle.

“I was so caught up in my own problems at the time, I wasn’t there for you,” she said.

“I brought it on myself, with my inability to delegate responsibility in the church. I had the erroneous attitude, thinking of myself as God’s anointed, who should be able to do it all. I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“I knew what a rough time you were having then, with Joel,” Nathan said. “I’ve heard the comment that a divorce is more painful than a death. In a way, not only is divorce the announcement of the death of a relationship, but it’s also, in the eyes of many, a sign of rejection.”

“For me it was a sign of failure,” she said quietly. “By the time the judge pronounced us no longer husband and wife, I felt as though I’d been released from prison.”

He gave her a quick glance.

She shrugged. “The drugs, the abuse.” She pressed a forefinger against the small scar beside her left eye. “This is just the most visible scar he gave me. I kept thinking I could hold out and see him through all of it, that I was the one person who could rescue him from himself.” She gave a bitter snort. “I discovered I wasn’t so special, after all.”

“Then I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, either.” Nathan risked another glance at her; she was staring out the window again. “And so you changed professions because of the experience, just as I did.”

“I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t find a job after I was dismissed from the clinic. No one wanted to take a chance on a proven drug abuser.”

Nathan’s foot involuntarily eased from the accelerator and the truck slowed. He couldn’t keep the shock from his expression.

“I did offer to drive if you need me to,” she said dryly.

“That’s okay.” He regained his composure. “I guess there are some things I still don’t know about you.”

“There are some things you won’t want to know. Let’s just say I made a mess of things once too often, and I’ve been paying for it ever since.”

“But you shouldn’t have to keep paying for it for the rest of your life.”

“Maybe I should. Get over it, Nathan. I have.”

“But you always wanted to be a nurse.”

She returned to her brooding.

Time for yet another subject change. Amazing how they’d once been able to discuss anything together, and now they had to tiptoe around so many areas of their lives.

She pointed to the first outlying buildings of the town of Hideaway, the breathtaking view of the lake to their right and the picturesque town square to their left—a square on which the brick storefronts faced the street that encircled it on all four sides.

Nathan drove past the clinic, general store, feed store, bakery and bank, then followed the curve in the road through a charming residential district, lush with trees and shrubbery and lined with a variety of homes, from colorfully painted Victorian houses to neat brick Colonials and ranches and small lake cabins. This early in the morning, all was quiet. Nathan and Noelle passed Jill’s two-story Victorian on their way out of town.

“Nothing stirring in town yet,” Noelle said.

“Which means everyone’s probably still out at Cedar Hollow.”

“Which means they haven’t found Carissa yet.”

Nathan returned his attention to the road as he picked up speed.

The first sight to greet Noelle as Nathan sped along the paved country lane toward Cooper land was the trees—lush, green and tall, except for a narrow swath of twisted and stunted growth to the right of the lane for about a quarter of a mile that followed the curve downhill into Cedar Hollow. It was the only remaining evidence of the tornado that had torn through the hollow two years earlier. This was the Coopers’ very own tornado alley—with the tops of the trees ripped off and scattered for miles, along with the roof of the old barn behind Cecil Cooper’s house.

Turning in her seat, away from the window, Noelle watched Nathan drive. His muscles rippled in his bare forearms as he steered to miss a pothole. Due to the number of logging trucks that came this way, the county road crew had to struggle to keep this road repaired.

Nathan’s face seemed to brood in the flickering shades of light and shadow as he drove under an arching tunnel of trees.

Noelle’s gaze returned to the road. A few hundred feet ahead, she saw the sturdy cedar stand that supported four mailboxes, belonging to Cecil and Melva, Great-Aunt Pearl, the Cooper Sawmill and the last in the line to Nathan. Forever a country boy at heart, he had returned to his roots when he moved back to the farm where he’d grown up, in the house that was hidden from view to their right, behind a thick stand of lodgepole pine.

Nathan turned left into the paved driveway on Cooper land. The sawmill was a quarter of a mile along this wooded lane.

“Did you hear Harvey Sand died?” Nathan asked.

“Jill told me.” Harvey had done the monthly and annual accounting for Cooper Sawmill for the past fifteen years. His secretary had found him unconscious at the bottom of his staircase at home last Friday morning. “Did he ever regain consciousness?”

“Not that I heard.”

“So they still don’t know what happened for sure. Is the sheriff continuing to investigate?”

“Probably. You know Greg, always suspicious.”

Noelle peered around at the growing gloom as the clouds seemed to congregate over Cooper land. How appropriate today, with Carissa missing. Obviously, some rain had already fallen, judging by the dripping leaves on the trees and the damp pavement. “Nathan, Jill said you were still doing some counseling for the family.”

“She did?”

He sounded hesitant, and Noelle glanced at him. Once more, his posture was perfectly correct, his grip on the steering wheel precise, his gaze straight ahead at the road. Interesting.

“Are you trying to get to the bottom of the Cooper family psyche?” She was only half joking.

He looked away. “You know I’m not a counselor.”

“I know you’re not a psychologist, but once a pastor always a pastor.”

“Just because someone’s a pastor doesn’t mean he’s a good counselor.”

“You have a knack. Don’t be so modest.” She’d heard enough local gossip to know that his solid common sense had helped to heal more than one fragile marriage in Hideaway.

“Okay,” she said. “I understand all about confidentiality.”

“Right. I’m liable.”

“Even if it is family.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” She was dying of curiosity, but that had landed her in trouble before. She studied Nathan’s closed expression. Okay. For now, she’d drop the subject and focus on finding Carissa.

Nathan glanced sideways to see Noelle’s dark brows drawn together, her blue eyes narrowed in concentration. What was she thinking? He knew she wasn’t sulking over his refusal to disclose confidential information to her.

Again, he glanced at the scar beside her left eye. He’d noticed her rubbing her finger over the indentation several times, an automatic gesture that revealed more about her than she probably wanted anyone to know. What did that man do to her? When Nathan and Noelle were younger, she’d had an impulsive sense of fun, an almost constant light of humor in her eyes. She’d often poked fun at herself, but not at others. Her face had always been in motion, expressing her thoughts and feelings without words. In repose, her facial features gave the appearance of exquisite elegance—her nose almost too delicate and straight, her cheekbones almost too high, her dimpled chin too perfect. When they were growing up, it was that beauty that people had seen in her, often missing the sharp intelligence behind the radiance of her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes.

Nathan blamed Noelle’s beauty for the end of their friendship. When they entered high school, she’d become a focus of attention for the guys, and Nathan, a nerd, had faded into the background of her life to watch her flit from one relationship to the next in rapid succession. It was then that he’d painfully realized he no longer had a best friend. It was then, with the sense of sadness, that he’d discovered Whom his real best friend had always been.

From that time, the focus of his life had changed. His final interaction with Noelle—the one that had broken their friendship for several years—happened the day he’d overheard some guys in gym class comparing notes about her, shocking notes that had sickened him.

When he’d confronted her, right there in the busy main corridor at Hideaway High, there had been an ugly shouting match between them that had been talked about for weeks afterward.

Funny, until her divorce, Nathan hadn’t realized—hadn’t allowed himself to realize—how deeply Noelle had been a part of his life during their formative years. Lately, the more he saw her, the more he wanted to see her, aside from any question of romance. In fact, he’d reminded himself over and over again that a romance could put their friendship at risk, and he wanted to keep her friendship.

Nathan’s truck topped a wooded knoll and the gray-brown angles of the sawmill came into view. Several cars and pickup trucks were parked in the lot—more than usual. All the employees were beating the brush in search of Carissa.

Nathan’s truck bounced down the steep lane into the valley and over the low-water bridge that was already under at least five inches of water from the recent rains.

Noelle gave a sudden, soft gasp, and Nathan glanced at her.

“What’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath and blinked.

“Is it happening again?” he demanded.

She nodded and closed her eyes.