Thirty-Two
Rough bark stung her palm as Charley caught her balance against a tree trunk. Cocoa danced around her feet. “Whoops.” Uneven ground. One more step and she’d be out of the pool of light shining from Kayla’s house. Into the inky dusk beyond.
No longer a sun-soaked Renoir, this was Emily Carr’s Wood Interior, Old Trees at Dusk. Overlapping layers of grey-brown tree trunks crowded, towering. Looming. A space-consuming wall of chiseled shapes and heavy foliage. Swirling ropes of growth.
Crickets chirped. Somewhere, a branch snapped.
At least she had her flashlight. She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder, lighter now that she’d left the rest of the chips — the little that remained — at Kayla’s. Her hand skimmed the pouch of dog treats. A fine-tip pen. She rummaged, then yanked the bag off her shoulder to get a better look inside.
The flashlight wasn’t there.
Cocoa waited patiently, panting.
Did she leave the flashlight at Kayla’s? She must have.
Charley looked back, and the ground took a dive. She blinked, her vision swimming.
Cosmos seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, not so much.
Whip-poor-will. At the sing-song whistle of the bird, Cocoa whipped around, ears twitching with the last rising accent.
The canopy of branches and leaves hid the stars from view. The trees were a leaning presence. There were only a few cottages between Kayla’s and their own, not nearly enough to light the way. In the distance, an owl hooted.
Sweat slithered clammy down her back and Charley felt panic tickle at the back of her throat. Cocoa’s eyes glittered up at her.
One step in front of the other, that was all. “Let’s go. We’ll be fine.” If only she could convince herself as easily.
It was black as night. And she couldn’t see.
The thin soles of her sneakers crunched over gravel. She felt each stone beneath her shoes. Summer-warmed scents rose around her. Crushed grass, the sweet and spiced honey tones of phlox. The rustle of wild lilies, just a blur in the gloom.
The lands could not be seen, the animals could not be seen. Kayla’s grandmother’s voice echoed through her mind. Everything was in darkness. In the story, the magic words were made on a night just like this, when there was no light on earth.
A person could become an animal. A wolf, a bear, a fox. And an animal could become a human being. She gripped Cocoa’s leash tighter.
A lone, chattering howl filled the night. A coyote, though still far away, she hoped. But the answering group’s yips had the hairs on her arms rising, had her picking up her pace, even though the road wasn’t quite steady beneath her feet. Cocoa growled, low in her throat.
This was such a mistake. What was she thinking?
The story stayed with her, kept pace with them.
The fox loved the darkness because then he could steal from the humans. But the hare wanted the light so that he could find food.
Darkness, darkness, darkness, said the fox.
But the hare’s words were more powerful. Charley murmured them like a chant as she hurried down the road, “day, day, day.”
Close now. Just a little further. The weight of the darkness pressed against her back, urging her to go faster.
Sparks flew in the shadows. Rising like ghosts from the past, striking flint rocks in the night. A glimmer at first, then more and more flickered through the wildflowers lining the roadside. Drifting through clusters of Queen Anne’s lace, glowing between the tiny white flowers.
Fireflies.
Charley laughed in relief. Just fireflies. God, all those sleepless hours leading up to the opening must be catching up with her.
Then night turned into day.
Caught in the glare of headlights, her heart thudded.
Matt slammed on the brakes. He’d just barely caught the gleam of eyes, dead ahead.
Who the hell decided to stroll down the middle of the road in the dark? He scowled at the silhouette caught in his headlights. Then he spotted the dog and a jolt of recognition hit.
He frowned. What was she doing, walking the road late at night?
Never mind the cars. There were coyotes, wolves. Animals that didn’t shy away from picking a fight with a chocolate lab.
He pulled over to the side of the road. Gave the knob on the stereo a twist, taking the edge off the hard rock, and got out of the truck. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“What?” Charley shielded her eyes against the light, her shadow stretched out long behind her.
“Taking Cocoa for a walk this late at night. It’s not —” Smart, he almost said. But he caught himself in time, rephrased. “A good idea.”
In the low brush in the ditch, something rustled.
“We’re not ‘going for a walk’. We’re going home.” She waved an arm toward the cottage up ahead.
At the careful enunciation, he narrowed his eyes, moved closer. “Home from where?”
“Kayla’s. What is this, the incqui—incquisi—”
“Inquisition?” Amused now, he rocked back on his heels. Cocoa panted up at him.
“That’s what I said.”
“Uh huh.” Since he didn’t want to come back to a truck full of moths, Matt slammed the door. “I’ll walk you to the cottage.” Because it was the right thing to do. Not because he was chasing after her, tail wagging, damn it.
“Thanks. But we’re almost there.” She turned, stumbled on the pivot.
Catching a hand under her elbow to steady her, he asked, “So how much did you drink?”
She shot him a glance. “Not much.”
Enough though. “Celebrating?”
“And investigating.”
Another tricky word. “I thought you didn’t think Kayla did it.” He kept a hand on her arm as they walked, avoiding the ruts and tire tracks worn into the gravel as best he could in the dark.
“I don’t. It’s David I’m not so sure about. And Thomas. Thomas is —” She paused for a second, concentrating on her feet. “— very suspicious.”
Yeah, he was. What would she say to the blueprints he’d found?
She jostled against him, and the warmth of her body against his had other thoughts going through his mind.
“Sorry,” she said.
There were more loose pebbles up ahead and all those uneven fieldstones, too. “That’s it.” He reached for the leash, looped the leather twice around his wrist, and swept Charley off her feet. And ended up with an armful of outraged female.
“Put me down!”
Enjoying himself, he said, “When we get to the door.”
With a bark, Cocoa pounced around them, playfully tugging at the leash.
“Don’t you dare drop me.” Charley squirmed.
“Then stop fidgeting.” A frog leaped out of the grass near his feet.
When she linked her arms around his neck, his thoughts scattered. “You smell like maple syrup and powdered sugar,” she told him. It sounded like an accusation.
“That’s probably true.” He made his way carefully over the fieldstone slabs, trying not to focus on her heart beating against his chest.
“And you have a nice face.”
Was that a compliment or a complaint? “I like yours too.”
“Good, strong lines. Interesting angles.” Her fingers skimmed along his jaw, light as a feather, making his blood run faster. “Especially up close.”
“Don’t do that.” He stopped short and shifted the weight of her in his arms. “Keep doing that, and I’m going to drop you. Or kiss you.”
“No.” She shook her head, and her breath brushed his throat. “I’ve decided I’m not going to kiss you again.”
She sounded sure about that. He looked down at her. “And why’s that?”
“Because distractions are not allowed.” It would have been more convincing if she didn’t have her arms wrapped around his neck.
“I’m distracting?” He heard the grin in his own voice.
“I should be drawing you. Not kissing you.”
“I gotta admit, I prefer the second option.” At the door, he set her on her feet. Cocoa leaped between them, wagging her tail at the new game.
“My tongue is numb.”
He bit back a chuckle. “I’ll bet it is.” At least someone had left the porch light on for her. Moths batted around the bulb. “Keys?”
He figured she’d have to search for them, but she pulled them out of her pocket. “Got them.”
Taking them from her, he unlocked the door. “I’ll wait until you’re inside.”
She smiled. Hesitated and said, “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Matt watched as she let herself into the cottage, staying until he heard the latch fasten.
Heading back to his truck, he caught himself whistling a cheerful tune beneath his breath.