Lillo couldn’t get warm. Mac was going to be fine. Clancy had called from the ambulance, which had met the police car fifteen minutes out of town. Lillo had caught it in time. The bullet had nicked an artery. Mac was in surgery, but she’d be fine. She’d regained consciousness before she went in.
But Lillo just couldn’t get warm.
Ned had brought her back to the cottage. Made coffee while she showered. Threw out her bloodied clothes and cleaned the bathroom while she changed into jeans and a heavy sweatshirt. Was waiting for her now, a mug of hot coffee in hand.
She wanted to be annoyed at him. Tell him to stop micromanaging everything.
Except when she’d need him to. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her whole life than when Clancy and Ned knelt down beside her. But they wouldn’t take over. She pleaded with Ned, but he just squatted there like some deaf and dumb gargoyle while she fought for Mac’s life and hers.
She blinked back fresh tears. Why the hell couldn’t she get warm?
She sat on a stool, reached across the counter for her coffee. Their eyes met as he handed her the mug, and she thought how much it was like looking at a nurse or an attending surgeon over their masks. Everything communicated with a look.
“Drink,” he said. “I put in a lot of sugar. It should help with—”
“—shock,” she finished for him. “I’m not in shock.” The coffee splashed over the rim of the mug. She put it down.
Ned leaned on his elbows on the counter, moving him closer to her. “You were saying . . . ?”
“Why didn’t you help me?”
“You didn’t need me, and I didn’t want to screw up the procedure.”
“You could have helped.”
“I could have. Would have if I needed to. But I didn’t.”
He moved back, came around the counter, and sat on the stool next to her. Put his arm around her. “You did good.”
“I didn’t want to.” Damn, the tears were starting again.
“I know.”
“You thought you’d teach me a lesson. You always—”
He grabbed her so fast her teeth rattled. “Let’s get this straight. I’m not trying to interfere in your life. And if you think for a minute I would jeopardize Mac’s life, any life, to teach you a lesson, or even to give you a crutch, you are dead wrong. I saw a competent surgeon, doing the job that needed to be done, and didn’t interfere. That’s the beginning and the end of it. So deal with it.
“You don’t want to be a surgeon. Fine. But you’re not going to stop because you feel sorry for yourself, not so you can sit around here planting petunias and acting ‘poor me’ while people who need your help are going without.
“If you’re not willing to face death every day, don’t. It isn’t easy, as you’ve found out. No, I take that back, you only lost one and he wasn’t even your patient. I’ve lost count.”
“Liar.”
He smiled, almost. “You’re right. I remember every single one. So go be a nurse. Be a GP. Be a podiatrist, for Christ’s sake.”
Lillo’s lip twitched. “A podiatrist?”
“Nobody ever died of a hangnail.” He turned away. “Drink your coffee.”
“You think I’m a coward, don’t you?”
“I think I made that fairly clear. But I’m done trying to persuade you otherwise. If today didn’t convince you . . . well, I’m no competition.”
He walked into the other room, but he came back. “If you’ve finished your coffee, Jess and Allie are over at Mac’s, tending Mac’s brisket. And I, for one, am starving.”
He found a hoodie on the peg and held it while she put in on, turned her around, and zipped it up.
“Do you get how annoying you are?”
He smiled for the first time. “Only to you. Most women enjoy the attention.”
They went to Mac’s. Lillo wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t want any more confrontations with Ned. She thought if she hesitated he would just wash his hands of her and would leave her behind. She didn’t want to put either possibility to the test.
So they walked across the parking lot, side by side, not talking.
Down the path to the back of the gift shop. A ritual they’d almost lost today. Without Mac, there would be no gift shop, no lighthouse. No one else was interested in running it, keeping it up with practically no funding.
No one to talk to, listen to, to be a friend to. No reason for Lillo to even be here. The camp was gone. Her parents were in Florida.
Holy hell, it had been a long day. A long week, when she stopped to think about it. She’d had more fun than she’d had for a long time, and more heartbreak, too. It’s what happened, she guessed, when you let people into your life.
Ned opened the door for her. “Sorry, I can’t seem to help myself.”
She stopped on the step. Impulsively reached up and kissed his cheek. “You’re annoying as hell, but I appreciate it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“When I’m sane.”
“Ah.” He walked in behind her.
The kitchen smelled like Mac would be there greeting them, but it was just Jess, Allie, and Nando.
“Well, see you tomorrow, I hope.” Nando nodded as he passed them on his way out.
“We were making plans for that motorcycle ride tomorrow, providing Mac is okay,” Allie told them.
Jess lifted a roasting pan out of the oven. “I tried to get him to stay for dinner but he didn’t want to encroach.” She took the lid off the brisket. “There’s enough for a crowd. Doc, I hope you know how to carve this slab of meat.”
Ned gave Lillo a sardonic look and went to get the cutting board.
Diana didn’t really know what she was going to do once she got to Ian’s place. But she was used to thinking on her feet—not that that was actually where she wanted Ian Lachlan.
He was turning out to be a lot of trouble, and normally she would have taken the hint. But God, she just kept coming back for more. He was just so damn intriguing. Always surprising, and there was something about him that made her usual expectations go up in smoke.
This was not good. Or maybe it was. Besides, he had just accomplished two heroic acts. No one seemed surprised, hardly seemed to pay attention to him once Bobby was back on land. Didn’t even try to help him off the ground when he attacked Mac’s assailant. What the hell?
Is that why he had disappeared into the mist? Of which she noticed there was less and less. Thank God; she might never have found the way to the stables.
But she did find it and walked up the drive wondering what she was going to say to him. I came to see if you were all right. Of course, she could have called him. But it was too easy to get rid of someone on the phone or ignore their text. And Diana didn’t intend to be ignored.
Between Bobby’s rescue and Mac’s brush with a bullet, her adrenaline was still pumping strong. This was as good a time as any to . . . to do something. And see what happened.
The house was dark, lit only by one porch light. She wondered if this was to save money or just because Ian didn’t need to leave lights on. Was he sitting there in the dark? The man made her wonder about the dumbest things. She’d known him less than a week, only spent a few hours a day with him, mostly riding behind him or working at the other end of the stables. They’d barely talked, but something about him just spoke to her.
And she had to see what it was.
She didn’t stop at the house but walked straight around to the barn. She knew that’s where he would be. With his horses. With Loki. The lock was off the door to the barn. Still, she hesitated, suddenly feeling like a fool.
Well, hell, he’d been hit on the head. She’d just say she’d come to make sure he hadn’t passed out and died. She slid the door open the least amount possible and squeezed through. It was dark, but the smell of hay and horse calmed her.
There was a dim light at the far end, a work light maybe. She started to call out but something stopped her. As she walked along the stalls, Clara and Pete came out to snuffle her. And she gave them each a stroke as she passed.
Farther down, Loki’s stall door was open. Surely Ian hadn’t taken him out riding. She hesitated. Listened. And heard Loki’s snuffle. She moved silently toward them. Afraid to make a sound. Instinctively knowing that she was the intruder.
She lingered by the post then peeked inside. Loki was there, head bent down. Ian leaned against him, his arms spread along Loki’s side, his head resting on the horse’s shoulder. The two of them stood perfectly still.
Loki rolled his eye toward her but didn’t acknowledge her presence in any other way. Did Ian know she was standing behind him?
He didn’t seem to. Just stood there, his arms outstretched, his body pressed against the barrel chest of his horse. A communion. She’d seen him do something similar with the boys. Soothing, he’d said. Self-soothing, Lillo had called it.
So now what did she do? This was obviously something she shouldn’t be witnessing. Something too private and fragile for an audience. Like Spider-Man without his web, Iron Man without his suit.
Diana knew how to take things by storm, flummox a roomful of app geeks, demand parity from HR, write a kick-ass superhero. But she didn’t know what to do here. Her first instinct was to back away and quietly leave.
Like you walked away from those kids?
She couldn’t do it then and she wouldn’t do it now. So she stepped forward, softly, carefully, trying not to make a sound or disturb the newly laid hay with her bargain-store sneakers. She moved like a phantom she might create for a video game, until she was standing directly behind Ian. Slowly raised her hand, held her breath as she gently touched his back with a careful finger.
He didn’t flinch . . . she wasn’t even sure if he realized she was standing there. She carefully glided her hand down his arm, moving closer until her body was almost touching his. He was warm. Hot. As if he were burning from the inside out.
Loki snorted, shuddered, driving Ian and Diana closer. Until they were touching, body to body. Their arms spread along Loki’s body like acolytes in some ancient ritual. She rested her cheek between Ian’s shoulder blades, trying not to think about what would happen next.
Then Loki moved away. They both stumbled slightly. And Ian turned to face her.
“Why are you here?”
She didn’t have an answer.
She just looked at him, every glib retort, every snappy comeback, any clever one-liner she’d ever said fled, leaving her mind empty and blank. She just knew this was where she wanted to be.
She told him so.
He shook his head. “It’s no good. I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?”
“This.”
“What is this? Do you know? Because I’ll be damned if I do.”
He took her by the shoulders. Tried to move her away, but she stood her ground and thought, What the hell. She slipped her arms around his neck. Stepped into him.
He grasped her wrists. “I can’t.”
“Everything feels like you can,” she said, pressing her body into his.
“Jesus, you’re a stubborn woman.”
“Just tell me what we can’t do, can’t be, can’t whatever. I’m not even sure what we’re talking about.”
He pulled her arms away. “I’m not having this conversation standing in a horse stall.” He slid past her and out of the stall.
She followed him out. “Fine. Let’s have it somewhere else.”
His head dropped back—exasperation? prayer?—then he hooked the stall gate and started toward the barn door.
Diana followed right behind him. She should just walk out of the barn and down the drive. She was going home in a couple of days and she’d forget about him. He was just a blip on her vacation radar.
She didn’t know why she’d even gotten involved with him. They weren’t involved. The situation might be involved, but they weren’t. Much. Were they? Her need to know overrode her reason.
He stopped at the barn door. “God, please, just go away.”
“Why?”
He pushed the door wider, stepped through, waited for her. She reluctantly came out and he shut and locked the door.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“I’ll walk.”
He kept walking.
“Or I could stay.”
He stopped so abruptly she almost plowed into him.
“I’ve killed people.”
“You too?”
“What?”
“Lillo killed—to her mind—the most brilliant medical student who ever walked, and until today she was convinced she had no right to live in his world.”
“There’s a difference between not being able to save someone and what I did.”
“What did you do?”
“Diana, I can’t.”
“Do you know that’s the first time you’ve actually said my name?”
He glanced at her. “I’ve tried not to.”
“What? Say my name and I claim your soul?”
“You’re out of luck. Mine deserted me years ago.”
They reached the house and he started up the steps. She knew the best thing to do was to get the hell out, because this conversation was getting beyond weird. But she doggedly climbed the steps behind him.
He opened the front door.
Diana pushed him inside and followed before he could lock her out. “Aren’t you being just a little melodramatic?”
He walked across the wooden floor into a modern kitchen with a massive wooden table, and Diana lost her train of thought for a second. He opened a modern fridge and took out two beers. “Okay, I’ll give it to you, then will you leave?” He opened the beers and handed her one.
“Maybe.” She followed him into the living room.
“I don’t have a lot of furniture.”
An understatement. The room was huge, the ceilings were high. It had a beautiful stone fireplace and wood paneling, like an old lodge house. Then she remembered that Lillo had lived here when her parents owned the camp.
Diana couldn’t imagine it filled with overstuffed furniture and game tables, crowded with campers and their parents. Now there was one big couch, two stuffed chairs, and a couple of floor lamps.
She sat on the couch.
He stood at the fireplace. Took a long drink of beer. Pushed his fingers through his hair.
“How’s your head, by the way?”
“Huh? Fine.”
“Okay, you killed these people and . . .”
He put his beer on the mantel, scrubbed his face with both hands, picked up his beer again. “I was a part of this organization that worked with third-world villages to turn them into sustainable communities.”
“Like planting crops and stuff?”
“That. And irrigation. We helped them set up filtration sites so they had clean water to drink, taught them how to build structures, take care of livestock, start a school.”
“Got it. Sustainable. Hope for the future and everything.”
“So sometimes it worked out; sometimes shit happened.”
Diana decided not to ask.
“Some of these places are constantly at war. Tribal or terrorist. You either live in fear or live in hate. Or both. They hate anyone who has anything. Fear that what they have will be taken away. So they fight, tear down, destroy, kill.”
“But you were there to change all that.”
“Yeah. There were successes, but as often as not, when we left, some warring tribe would come in and attack and kill and destroy.” He laughed bitterly. “The circle of life.”
He drank some beer. Stared into the cold grate of the fireplace.
Diana braced herself.
“On my last project we were working in a little village in Somalia. These people were so enthusiastic, so ready to learn, could actually imagine their future. Then we got word that fighting was heading our way.
“We started evacuating as many as we could on the few vehicles we had. Trying to fortify as much of the village as possible. I released as many of the animals as I could get to, knowing they would all be slaughtered and they might have a chance of survival in the jungle.
“But they were on us before we could get everyone out. There was one jeep left and too many people. We were pushing as many children and women onto that jeep as we could, when the firing started. Those who were left tried to flee into the countryside; most of them didn’t make it. The jeep had to pull out.”
Diana held her breath. Please don’t be the story of the Titanic and you got on the jeep and left children behind. Please.
“I was lifting a toddler up to his mother as the jeep pulled away and they shot the kid right out of my hands. I just snapped. I turned around, picked up the heaviest thing I could find, and started to fight back.
“I killed men that day. Men. Hell, half of them were hardly more than boys. The same age as Tommy Clayton, maybe younger. I killed them willingly, with hatred. At first with whatever came to hand and then with rifles I stole off the attackers’ bodies.
“I’d sworn to do no harm. I was a committed pacifist, but I killed, out of sheer anger, all day long. I just kept killing. It was hopeless. And I just kept killing.”
“But you survived.”
He laughed bitterly, a heartbreaking sound even to Diana, who thought of herself as a hardened case.
“Did I?”
And there it was, and Diana’s heart broke for this man she barely knew, but loved.
“We held them off until reinforcements arrived from the fighting someplace else. They drove them away finally, but everything was destroyed—the irrigation system, the crops, the huts, the cistern, half the population lay dead or dying.
“We had one doctor on staff; I helped where I could. But we treated our own tribe first. Left whoever belonged to the attacking tribe for last. Some died while they lay there ignored, crying out for help.”
“Well, not to sound uncaring, but they should have thought of that before they attacked you.”
He tried to smile, shook his head. “It’s the way they live, always so close to the edge of extinction, natural, man-made, it’s what they do.”
He breathed, a painful rattling sound that made Diana’s own chest hurt.
“So now you know. So I want you to go, get away, leave me alone.”
But she couldn’t move; she just sat there forming words that wouldn’t be spoken. She knew she should step away, leave this man to his overwhelming guilt and disappointment in himself. At least give them both time; her to assimilate what he told her and try to make some sense of it, and him to find his way back to the place where he could live in peace.
Strangely, nothing he’d said had changed her feelings for him. She wasn’t repulsed, she wasn’t drawn any closer to him. Didn’t condemn or condone. She wasn’t really comfortable not taking a stand, whether it was for a just cause or against a bad app. She was a businesswoman first and foremost, but she knew how to care for people, and she cared for Ian Lachlan.
She stood, but she didn’t leave. She went to the fireplace, stood facing him, stood there until he was forced to look at her. “What happened to the village?”
He looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns.
“We returned, salvaged what we could, the higher-ups decided it was in too volatile an area to rebuild, so we said good-bye, left them with nothing, with less than they’d had before, and we were sent to the next project. That was the worst of all. I’d rather kill again than see those people’s faces in my dreams.”
“You gave them hope.”
“And it was killed.”
“Maybe this time they’ll have the tools to rebuild themselves.”
“You? An optimist?” He huffed out a painful laugh. “They were attacked again. This time both sides had automatic weapons supplied by some first-world nation—Russia, the U.S., maybe both. The village was totally destroyed. Those who managed to escape walked fifty miles to the refugee camp just across the border. Those who made it, I guess, are still there, will probably die there.”
She stepped closer, crowding his space, looking for an emotional opening into that defeated spirit.
He looked away. “For a moment they had a future. Hope. And then it was gone.” He turned back to her and the bleakness in his face made her want to cry. “Losing hope is worse than never having any hope at all. Now please, if you have any feelings for me at all, go away.”
She touched his cheek. “No.”
He flinched away. “I’m broken, Diana, I can’t be fixed.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Believe it; nobody can fix me, not even you. There just isn’t an app for that.”
Her hand slipped around his neck, pulled him closer. “That’s a challenge I can’t refuse.” And she kissed him.