Читать книгу Indigo Lake - Jodi Thomas - Страница 15

CHAPTER SIX

BLADE HAMILTON WORKED half the night trying to pull his bike out of the Texas mud. Indigo Lake seemed determined to keep it. Finally, with the help of an old rusty winch from the shack of a barn on his land, he managed to drag the Harley out of the lake and get it on solid ground.

The night seemed to fight him as well, first with a chilling mist against his already wet clothes, and finally with shadows from the low clouds moving over the midnight land like creatures crawling toward him. Once, he looked up and swore he saw a figure, round as he was tall, glaring at him from behind a bare elm as if the intruder thought invisible leaves might hide him.

Blade thought he could make out white teeth smiling. Then the wind whipped up and the stout body turned, as if rolling into the night. Blade kept glancing toward the lone elm, but the figure didn’t appear again. After cussing and yelling at it a few times, Blade calmed down and examined the damage to his bike.

Forget the round figure. If he didn’t get this bike fixed he’d be here forever, and tonight it was far too dark to even predict how many hours or days it would take him. The way his luck was running, he’d probably have plenty of time to visit with the ghost.

Exhausted, he climbed into the pickup he’d borrowed and drove back to Dakota’s place. Her house wasn’t far; he’d seen the lights there go out hours ago. But, thanks to the lake, the road circled around, making it seem miles away.

When he crossed onto her property, he noticed a few buildings besides the main house scattered over the rocky, uneven land. Barns, sheds, a short house that looked like it might have been the original dugout when the place was homesteaded.

Like she told him to, he parked the pickup at the beginning of the drive. Maybe she didn’t want it getting stuck in the mud, or maybe she’d planned to park it in one of the little barns scattered around the house. Only, he’d kept it so long she must have gone on to bed. He was too tired to care as he cut the engine and climbed out.

If he had a pen, he would have left a thank-you note. He’d probably run her battery down using the headlights as his only light source, and the driver’s seat was muddy, not to mention the bed where he’d climbed in and out of the truck several times.

Half the papers she had scattered across her front seat were now floating on the lake. He’d tried to collect them, but his efforts looked more like a first-grade art project than anything she might want to read.

He’d apologize for that also, he decided.

He was too tired to even bother trying to scrape off the mud tonight. He’d say he was sorry, or better yet offer to pay for a wash tomorrow, but tonight he’d promised to bring the old piece of junk back and he had. The ten minutes he’d said he wanted to borrow it had turned into three or four hours. She probably needed it in the morning to do whatever she did for a living.

From the way she was dressed he’d guess it wasn’t farming. Wool skirt six inches too long to be fashionable, navy blazer a bit too big for her tiny frame, and shoes practical but so ugly he wouldn’t suggest even giving them away. No clue what her job was, but one thing was obvious, she was making herself look older.

He grinned, thinking of how she’d ordered him to ride in the back. She could be the role model for the kind of woman he hated being around. Bossy, quick-tempered, superstitious, and short. But, he had to admit, she was kind of cute for an elf.

He decided to walk up to the house and leave the keys. No lights were on at her place or in the yard, but his eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

He’d just put the keys on the porch where she’d stacked the boxes.

Bad luck found him about the time he was within twenty feet of her house. The rain started again. The slow steady plopping around him sounded like a thousand tiny drummers. He’d been soaked for so long, Blade barely noticed he was dripping as he walked. Maybe this slow drizzle would wash the pickup off a little. If it didn’t, his only neighbor probably wouldn’t be speaking to him come dawn.

Ten feet from the house he saw the shadow of a woman appear on the porch. The watery moon didn’t show her clearly at first and he thought it was Dakota. Small build, hair tied back away from her face, a crochet shawl wrapped around her shoulders. He almost yelled a greeting, but something wasn’t right.

The woman let the shawl slip. She wore a white nightgown that gave the impression that she was floating.

Blade frowned. No wonder people around here believed in curses and spirits. He’d only been here one night and he’d already seen two.

He moved a few feet closer and the woman took shape. She was taller than he remembered Dakota being, and so thin she reminded him of a willow swaying in the night breeze. Only she was flesh and blood.

He studied her. She wasn’t Dakota. He could see that now, but the resemblance was there. A sister, maybe. This woman was a few years older and beautiful in a no-makeup, freshly scrubbed kind of way.

Six feet away. Five. The wet grass silenced his steps. She was looking right at him. Even in the night he couldn’t understand why he didn’t startle her.

Blade stopped. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want to frighten her, but if she hadn’t seen him yet, one word would surely do just that.

She closed her eyes and leaned her face out so the gentle rain could tap against her skin. Then she smiled and he knew...she was blind. She might not have seen him, but he had the feeling she observed more than most. She saw the night, the softness of the rain, the caress of the damp wind, the silent world after a storm. Tapping her fingers along the porch railing, she moved inside and disappeared as though she’d been nothing more than a vision, a will-o’-the-wisp, impossible to catch.

Blade couldn’t move. He felt like he’d seen a ghost, though his life had always been ordered by reason and logic. This whole part of the country made him feel like he’d stepped into another world, or maybe another dimension. He was the outsider here, and yet he didn’t feel as out of place as he thought he would. Somehow, deep down, a part of him belonged here. Blade dropped the pickup keys on the porch.

There was a kind of magic in the air. Dakota had spoken of a curse. In an isolated place like this, he could almost feel the past whispering as he walked around the house that looked like its walls were a foot thick. Before he reached the open field between his land and Dakota’s house, he passed a small place built low, almost into the earth. Smoke circled from the chimney, but no light shone from the windows. An old, white rocker on the porch moved gently in time to the wind.

He slowed his steps, not wanting to wake whoever lived in the little cabin. Twenty feet later he passed a huge winter garden now sleeping. Further on he spotted a shed made of roughly cut boards near a stand of low trees.

When he turned the corner to the barn’s side door, he caught a flicker of light.

Slowly, drawn like a moth, he moved toward the light and slipped through the opening into silent, warm air.

From the looks of it, most of the barn was used for storage. Farm tools, an old wagon, a tractor, all looked abandoned. Leftovers, too valuable to toss, too worthless to sell.

One corner near the back reminded him of a mad scientist’s study. Drawings of houses and floor plans were nailed to the wall—some old and curling at the edges, some new and more detailed than the originals.

Blade was so interested in the plans, he almost didn’t notice a woman sleeping in a multicolored blanket between the sides of an old wingback chair. She looked tiny, with only her face left uncovered and the rope of a dark braid spilling over the blanket. The old leather office chair seemed to be holding her, cuddling her in its arms.

Obviously, she’d been working at the bench of a desk. These were her plans, her drawings on the wall. He’d studied enough blueprints in his investigations to know what he was looking at. Not office buildings or compounds, but homes. Big beautiful homes where every inch of space was put to use, every detail refined.

He clicked Save on the laptop and powered her computer down. He’d bet Dakota had to be at work in a few hours and guessed she’d sleep better somewhere else.

Another brightly colored blanket was spread out on a mound of hay near the door. He was too tired to worry about what might be wrong with picking up a sleeping woman he barely knew. For once, Blade didn’t weigh his actions. He simply lifted her in his arms and carried her to the makeshift bed.

A big yellow cat complained when Blade shoved him off the blanket and knelt as he carefully laid her down. Dakota wiggled slightly, settling back into sleep.

He knew he should leave, but he didn’t have the energy to stand. He’d been up for two days and had spent most of the night digging in the mud. Exhausted, he almost didn’t notice that he was also wet and muddy. He wasn’t sure he had enough energy left to walk the mile back to his place. Not in the dark. Not in the rain.

Blade leaned back. He’d just rest a few minutes. It was warm and dry in here. He’d be long gone by dawn.

His head gently bumped her shoulder as he closed his eyes and breathed in. Before he exhaled, he was sound asleep.