Chapter Seventeen

“Come.” Loath as he was to let her out of his arms, David lowered Adaleigh to the middle bench beside the picnic basket, which he moved out of the way to sit next to her.

“David?”

“Focus on me for a minute.” He pulled her chin back toward him so he could see into her hazel eyes. He needed her to hear him. “Never apologize for telling your story, especially to me. I always want to hear it. I wish I knew how to change things for you, but you have people who want to help. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Adaleigh nodded, though he couldn’t be sure his words soaked in. She looked so vulnerable it reached into his heart. This woman needed someone to care about her. Unconditionally. No ulterior motives. David brushed her cheek with his thumb, then shook his head. He may want to kiss her right this moment, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, take advantage of her vulnerability. He’d find another time to tell her how he felt. Right now, this was about her.

David used the oar on his side to adjust their course, keeping the boat close to the shoreline despite the relatively calm water. “Let’s pull out Grandma’s soup. I spotted a whole bowl of strawberries in there too.”

Adaleigh opened the basket, her straw hat shading the heaviness lingering from the tale she’d just told him. She handed him a thermos, and he winked, hoping to lighten her mood.

“Tell me.” He unscrewed the cap of the thermos and poured soup into it. “What is it that you enjoy doing on a quiet day?”

“Where did that question come from?” The gentle breeze played with wisps of hair that danced across her face. She brushed them away.

David looked to the hazy horizon so she couldn’t see the depth of the emotion still churning underneath his skin. “I’ve told you all about my fishing, even convinced you to join me, but I want to hear more about you. Tell me what you’d be doing right now if you weren’t on a boat with me.”

Adaleigh fidgeted with the cover of her thermos, drawing his attention back to her. Was she afraid of what he might think of her answer? She needn’t be. A blush crept into her cheeks. “I’d be reading.”

“You enjoy books, do you?” David let a teasing tone infuse his words. “I should have guessed, you being college-educated and all.”

“Oh, it started way before that.” She perked up like a flower when given a cup of water after a drought. Success! “Ever since I was a schoolgirl, whenever I saw a bookshop, I had the insatiable desire to go inside. They are like a land flowing with milk and honey.”

“The Promised Land, eh?” He hid a grin behind a spoonful of soup. It warmed him as much as Adaleigh’s presence did.

“Absolutely. But without the giants and walled cities. Except in the stories …”

“And what do you buy in these bookstores?” He asked before she distracted herself into a daydream all her own, a habit of hers he was beginning to recognize.

“Books, of course.” Adaleigh tossed a strawberry at him.

He caught it with a laugh. “Books, cooks. I need specifics.” He wagged the strawberry at her. “Do you buy dime novels or great mythical tomes?”

“All and sundry. David Copperfield is one of my current favorites. I probably have seven different editions in the study back … home.“ Tears jumped to her eyes again, but she sniffed them back in place as a particularly strong wave slapped the hull and she grabbed his arm for stability. “My family had a huge library that I cataloged and kept in order.”

“Seven editions of the same book?” David scrambled for a way to keep the conversation lighthearted as he tried to ignore the feel of her hand on his arm. “For heaven’s sake, why?”

A teasing glint flashed his way. “Sometimes I get two of the same title so I have the original language and an English translation. Like Alexandre Dumas’ Three Musketeers or The Count of Monte Cristo.”

He whistled softly. He knew Adaleigh to be an incredibly intelligent woman, but … wow. “There’s one bookstore in Crow’s Nest. It’d be an honor to take you there.”

“I’d like that.” Adaleigh grew quiet, ran her spoon through her soup. David missed her touch, but the afternoon sun made the water sparkle behind her, as if she were a queen sitting on a wooden throne surrounded by glistening jewels and he the captivated peasant.

“I’ve never been a book guy. Love me a good story, though—and you should hear some of the old captains tell stories!—but reading them in a book was never something I enjoyed.” David dipped his oar in the water, inordinately nervous about sharing a part of himself. “I did what I had to in order to get through school, but I prefer the real world. I like feeling the wind and sand and—”

The quick bend of the fishing pole beside him caused David to leap out of his seat. He grabbed the rod and let the silk line go until he gave a little yank, effectively setting the hook. He warmed under Adaleigh’s study. This next bit was his favorite part of fishing. It was like a dance—reel a little, give a little, always drawing the fish closer to the boat until he could net it.

“Come here.” David used his chin to beckon her to his side.

Adaleigh stumbled forward as the boat rocked. David stepped partially in front of her so she could use his shoulder for support.

“Hold this.” He placed the rod in her right hand, the crank of the reel in her left. She hadn’t worn gloves on their adventure, and he loved the feel of her hands in his. “Keep it taut. Just like that.”

She bit her lower lip, feet planted against the pull of the line.

“Yup. Now keep turning the reel. Once around, then pause. That’s it.”

“I’m doing it!” Excitement laced her words.

He grinned at her, then grabbed a large net and leaned over the side of the boat. “When I say, take a step back. We want to keep the line nice and tight.”

Adaleigh nodded.

David gave the signal. Adaleigh stepped back, turning the reel, as David swept the net into the water.

“Here we go!” He laid the net on the deck. Inside, a fish just under two feet long flopped. He held it up by the gills. “A ten-pound King! A salmon. Always feels good to know we won’t go home empty-handed. Want to hold your first fish?”

“Hold it?” She stared at him, then her chin jutted up. “It’s all part of the experience, isn’t it?”

“You betcha.”

She cringed, but held out her hand. Carefully, he set the fish on her fingers.

“Look at you! A right fisherwoman.” David grinned.

“Okay, okay. You can take it back.” She gave a little shimmy.

When he took it from her, he instructed her to close her eyes. Adaleigh sat primly on the boat bench in the stern and obeyed. Some parts of fishing were ugly, and he wanted to spare her that side today. Taking care of business, he stowed the fish before her eyes could pop open. Then he reset the rod and retook his seat across from her.

“We’ll have fish for dinner tonight, thanks to you,” he said. Once again, he felt her study. Tried to relax under the scrutiny and let the contentment he always felt after a catch settle like the gentle rocking of the boat.

“Tell me more about you?” Adaleigh cocked her head.

“You’re much more interesting, I’m sure.”

That received a smile. “Then tell me about younger David. What were you like as a child?”

Good question. “Let’s see, ever since I can remember, I loved the water.” He grabbed a handful of strawberries. “I’d try to chase the waves, and I always succeeded in getting wet.”

“You haven’t grown out of your mischievousness, I see.”

“Not a bit. Though as I got older, I’d follow Uncle Mike everywhere, trying to walk and talk just like him.”

“Did you ever consider joining the police force like him?”

“Nah.” David stretched out a leg, his foot nearly reaching her bench. “I just liked Uncle Mike’s swagger. It worked great with the ladies.”

Adaleigh laughed. He loved that sound.

“In fact, my friends would send me to talk to their moms if they really wanted something. Dessert before dinner. The latest toy. A date with a girl.”

“Cheeky.”

David’s turn to laugh. “I figured it never hurt to ask because nothing was ever lost by at least trying.”

“Mindy has a lot of respect for you.”

“Yeah.” He drew out the word, not quite knowing what to do with her statement. Wait. “Do I detect a bit of jealousy?”

Her face reddened. “Don’t you need to check the line or something?” She waved a hand at the pole leaning out over the water.

“Nuh-uh.” Could she possibly return the feelings he felt for her?

“You’re incorrigible!”

David grinned, then took a chance. In an instant, he’d crossed the space between them and taken the space beside her. “I’m guessing that means you left no fiancé or heartbroken beaux behind?”

“Back home, definitely not.” She fiddled with the food containers, repacking his grandmother’s basket.

David took a deep breath, as if ready to dive into the water. “Then you like someone here in Crow’s Nest.”

Adaleigh gave a subtle nod as she tucked the basket under their seat. When she straightened, it seemed she’d moved a mite closer.

His heart thumped. Could that someone she liked be him?

David wanted to take her hand but feared pushing her. “Losing Mom and my dad leaving us with Grandma, it derailed me more than I realize sometimes. I’ve grown up before my time, so I’ve heard. The friends I had growing up, the girls I dated—none of them experienced what I did. They couldn’t understand how hard life can be.”

”’To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,’“ she whispered. “’Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death …’”

“That’s Shakespeare, if I’m not mistaken.” He remembered a few of the classics he’d been forced to read in school.

“Macbeth.“ Adaleigh turned back to him. “I’ve become a fan of Shakespeare.”

“You make it sound beautiful.” Just like you.

Adaleigh’s eyes swung back to the horizon. “‘… Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.’”

David kept his eyes on her, a smile softly curving up the edges of his mouth as her words floated between them. This woman, who’d suffered more than any person should, shone like gold after being put through the refiner’s fire. Never had he met a woman with her mix of strength and gentleness. Never had he felt this way about anyone, either.

Her words faded as her gaze returned to his, pink coloring her cheeks. How long they sat like that, David didn’t know.

He reached for her hand. “You’ve been like a reviving wind picking up tired wings. I know you think leaving is in the best interest of all of us, but, Adaleigh?” He leaned closer. His heart beat faster. “I hope you’ll consider staying in Crow’s Nest. It’s a peaceful, quiet little town that lacks something important.” He ran his free hand along the braid that hung over her shoulder. “A beautiful booklover—”

The zip of the fishing line stopped him. For the first time, it didn’t send a thrill through him. He searched her eyes a moment longer. She’d have let him kiss her. Stupid fish.

Adaleigh watched as David caught two more small fish—rainbow trout, he explained—in rapid succession. While he reeled them in and tossed them back, darker clouds blew in, and the water grew choppier. It ended their fishing excursion and their conversation. They rowed back in silence until David moored at the dock.

Adaleigh tried not to read too much into her suspicion that he had wanted to kiss her. She would have let him—no, that was too passive a thought. She would have kissed him back, which was even more startling to her.

David leapt out of the boat and offered a hand. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Amazingly.”

His eyes brightened with a mix of relief and joy. He squeezed her hand before he let it go. “This is my uncle’s land. There’s a spot up a ways where we can build a campfire and roast the fish you caught.” He rubbed his neck. “Or we could just go for a walk.”

Adaleigh bit her lip. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let her eat. “A walk sounds lovely.”

David set the icebox by the wheel of his grandma’s car and held out his arm for her to take. Strolling beside him, lake on one side, towering pines on the other, was like entering a fairytale. One she had no interest in ever leaving.

Adaleigh ran a finger along the bruise that hid beneath her high collar. She needed to tell David about Mark Hitchens, and Joe Spelding. However, the more she thought about Mr. Spelding’s warning, the more she remembered Mark Hitchens’s threat, and the warmer she became.

The cloying pine scent choked her and the lake breeze chilled her. She tightened her grip on David’s arm. Why did her memories assault her at the worst possible time? Why couldn’t she enjoy a walk without flashing back to horrible circumstances?

“Adaleigh?” David’s voice cut through. She focused on the warmth of his hand resting on hers. “What’s wrong?”

She could tell him about Spelding, then they could return to their date. She was not going to ruin it. Simply start by giving information about him. It was just a chance meeting with someone who might have been the last person to see Amy alive.

“Who may have been the last person to see Amy alive?” David stopped them near the trunk of a giant evergreen. His brows pressed together.

Adaleigh blinked. How much had she just said aloud?

David’s arm brushed her shoulder. “Talk to me, Adaleigh. Please?”

Adaleigh swallowed. “It was Mr. Spelding.”

“What was?” David’s voice coaxed and calmed.

“This afternoon.” And that’s when Adaleigh realized her mistake.

In an instant, she was there as Spelding grabbed her arm, invading her space. Now David’s touch was like fire and she stumbled blindly away from him. Toward where, she didn’t know, she just had to get away. The muggy air closed around her mouth like a hand and all her demons flooded back. All the doubts. All the fears.

She sagged onto a fallen log, hidden in the shadows. The quiet of the trees surrounded her in an insulating bubble. However, instead of creating a safe atmosphere, the piney stickiness clung to her throat, threatening to suffocate her. Humidity soaked her clothes, trapping her in stifling bands. The more Adaleigh struggled, the tighter they held her.

“Adaleigh?”

David hadn’t deserted her. The concern in his voice tugged at her. She hugged her knees. She’d never shown this weakness to anyone, but David hadn’t been scared off. Instead, he claimed she lifted his tired wings. How could that be when he had given hers the strength to beat again? To hope again.

She raised her chin, gathering her courage to meet David’s gaze. She could feel him standing beside her. Waiting.

God had not given her a spirit of fear, but of a sound mind. She might not see a way to untangle her mess, her sister might not ever stop coming after her. The chief may not want to listen, but she’d had enough. She wanted to shed the worry, the fear, and fly free. God gifted her a chance to start over. He brought her to a town that slowed down enough to live, to a family who welcomed her into their home, to a kind-hearted man who treated her with a mix of care and respect she’d never experienced before.

Yet even that scared her. It had all happened so fast.

David touched her arm and she leapt to her feet. Restlessness charged her limbs and she paced away, then back again. Regardless of her feelings for David or his for her, how could she start over without settling old scores? She’d forever be looking over her shoulder for her sister, for Hitchens, for Spelding. That wasn’t fair to David, and Adaleigh wouldn’t hurt him. Running away wouldn’t solve anything, but how could she bring the threats to an end?

She rubbed her forehead, turning the question into a prayer. When she’d paced the same section for the third time with no answer, she swung around to find herself staring up at David.

“Are you okay?” He studied her with compassion. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Adaleigh folded her arms. As if they could keep her feelings from tumbling out.

“Adaleigh, you can trust me.”

“I do.” The words came out as a whisper, a longing whimper. She pulled her arms tighter. The thing about trust was how small and defenseless it made her feel. She survived on her bravado, her independence, her ability to read another human. When it came to David, he could read her just as well as she could read him. He got behind her defenses—and he actually liked what he saw.

“Then what is this about?” He didn’t move, didn’t reach for her, just waited. Again.

Adaleigh leaned against the nearest tree. “I want to stop running.”

“Then we’ll figure—” His roughened finger traced the bruise Mr. Spelding had left on her arm, visible where her sleeve had ridden up. “What happened?”

She cringed, waiting for the scolding.

“Adaleigh, what really happened with Joe today? Why do you have a bruise?” Sadness seeped through David’s words.

No scolding? No anger? Adaleigh blinked.

“Why didn’t I see this before?” His voice trailed away as his fingers moved to her neck.

She jerked away, bumped against a tree branch, and flashed to Mark Hitchens squeezing the life out of her. Fear gripped her lungs, taking away her breath. Adaleigh gasped the wet air and sank against the tree trunk. David knelt with her, concern showing in his rapid assessment.

She tried to tell herself David was safe, tried to pray, but all she could feel was Hitchens’s hand around her neck. Adaleigh heaved in air, but none came. She tried to inhale again. Nothing. A hand touched her shoulder, sending alarms through her body. She tried to scramble away, but her back hit a tree.

Oh God, help me.