Rescue Me(92)

“The van is completely flattened. No way they would have survived that fall if the tree hadn’t stopped them,” Jess said.

“Then apparently Willow and Sam got swept downstream. Then—get this. Dawson was drinking—”

“Dawson Moore? You’re kidding me. His dad works in the ER over at Kalispell Regional Medical Center.”

“I know.”

“Wow.” Jess had her hands in her pockets. She looked up at him then. “Hey, um, I wanted to tell you . . .”

He knew what was coming and wanted to make it easy for her, so he kept his tone light. “Listen, I think I figured it out. You and Ty dated, didn’t you? That’s what you didn’t want to tell me.”

Her mouth opened as if in surprise.

He gave her a grin. “I knew it. It was the way he looked at you.”

She frowned at him.

“Sort of possessive, maybe.”

“Oh,” she said.

The simmer inside ignited to a full, throat-scorching burn. “Wait, it’s over, right? I mean, the other day when I said Ty had a crush on you, I meant—well, I never thought that you might—”

“He’s my teammate,” she said.

That shut him down, along with a sudden hollow desperateness that made him swallow. Worse, he couldn’t stop himself from adding, pitifully, “Um, and . . . so am I?”

“Gotcha.”

He looked back, and when she grinned at him, the rush of relief almost left him light-headed.

Then, invincible.

The lingering hold Sam’s words had on him began to dissolve. Yes, he would find them. Would make it home.

Then he would show up on Jess’s doorstep, start building a life . . . or at least a house with her.

“Hey! I found something!”

Pete looked up, spotted Quinn holding a lime-green bandanna. “It was here, tied to a tree.”

“As if someone left it behind?” Pete ran up to him. Grabbed it.

“It’s Willow’s. I remember her wearing it,” Quinn said.

“Another confirmed PLS,” Pete said.

Jess took the bandanna out of Pete’s hands. “Is this blood?”

Quinn nodded. “She hit her head on the windshield.”

“How hard?”

“I don’t know—hard enough. Sam washed it off—but there was glass in it, I think.”

Jess looked at Pete. “Let’s hurry.”



Willow was calling herself a fool by the time they reached the back gardens of Ainihkiwa, with the tall cages that housed the now-harvested beds of pumpkin, corn, squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage, and row upon row of potato plants, the soil turned over and black, waiting for next year’s eyes.

She should have recognized the area, realized how close they were. She blamed it on the stress of the accident and the residual adrenaline of being swept down river.

Not to mention ending up in Sam’s arms.

“This is a commune?” Zena said. “It looks like a farm, with cabins.”

“It is. Everyone lives in the rustic cabins—they used to be youth hostels back in the day. There are three small barns for goats, chickens, cows, and a few pigs. They grow their own food and in the winter mostly live in the main lodge.”

She pointed to the log building, the one with the handmade rock chimney with smoke curling from it. “I’ll bet my mother is inside, making soup.”

Gus trudged up to her, carrying Vi. “I could eat some soup.”

She directed them down the path, toward the lodge, standing for a second on the ridge, looking back. She’d left her bandanna tied to a tree just outside camp, hoping Sam would figure out where they’d gone.

She hated herself for not keeping her promise. Josh’s words sat under her skin as they’d trudged through the woods. It could be that Sam needed her help.

As soon as they could get the Ainihkiwa truck, she’d drive to the ranger station, call in their location. No phones, no cell service at the commune.

“Willow? Is that you?”

The voice reached out through the drizzle, through the haze of the low-lying fog, and like a song fell upon her heart.

Her mother, her tawny brown hair tied up in an African-patterned duku and wearing an oversized knitted sweater and a pair of yoga pants, stood at the back door of the lodge.

Willow ran up and without a word fell into her arms.

“Oh my,” her mother said, the warm smell of nutmeg and cinnamon in her skin flushing through Willow.

Despite their differences, Willow always relished the embrace of her mother.

“What’s going on?” Her mother let her go and looked around at the crew. “You look like you’ve slept the night in the woods.”

“We have,” said Josh. He extended his hand. “Josh Blessing. I’m the youth pastor at Mercy Falls Community Church.”