Worth the Risk(50)

Wrapping her arms tighter around her knees, she rocked, imagined Stephen’s arms around her, protecting her. But he wasn’t and wouldn’t be, so instead she tried to count the colorful shapes of the quilt that lay in a heap on the floor. Her eyes made another pass around the room and the nightmare loosened its grip. She rose and dressed, knowing the thing that would calm her most was in the pasture.

The silver light of dawn illuminated the familiar path to the barn. This was the place that had drawn her out of the darkest corners of her mind until she’d decided she would live again. That she could and even wanted to. Now she would spend her life bringing other children out of the dark. Give them joy and purpose. She’d do it for them and for herself. Today was the day she’d make sure of it.

She reached the first turnout paddock and whistled. Winnie raised her head and trotted over. A sudden rush of love and emotion filled her eyes.

The palomino followed her along the rail and was waiting at the gate when Hannah came out the back of the barn. She saddled and rode, just the two of them in the quiet of early morning. A gift from her brothers on her eighteenth birthday, Winnie had been a symbol of her healing at a time when a normal girl would have been graduating and spreading her wings. Instead hers had been clipped years earlier and she hadn’t wanted to fly. Or feel or talk or eat. So deep inside herself she’d been numb.

Now she focused on the rhythm of Winnie’s footsteps, noted each type of tree she passed and the deer prints left in the dewy grass. She rocked in the saddle, desperate for comfort, and willed it all to crowd out the memories as it had so many times. Tried to forget what it felt like to have Stephen touch her, look at her with desire. Forgot what it had felt like to think Stephen might actually…what? Want her? Love her?

It was all too fresh to block out. Her past all sharp and new from the nightmare, memories of Stephen too strong. Even as she rode and talked to Winnie, she felt strangely disconnected from the world as if she weren’t really there.

The sun was fully up by the time she returned and Lexie was already busy mucking stalls. “Hey, girl. Early ride?”

“Yep.” Hannah turned with the saddle to hide her splotchy face and swollen eyes. “I have a meeting in the city. Should be back by lunch.”

“All right,” Lexie answered and went about her chores.

She felt a twinge of guilt at not telling Lexie what was going on, but decided against it. In a few hours, it would no longer be an issue. She hoped.

Exhausted instead of energized, she barely felt the hot water from the shower. Dressed and brushed her hair like she was in a fog. She had the deed to the property in the Bradleys’ name and the handwritten letter. Double-checking the downtown address one last time, she grabbed the envelope on the counter and started out.

Driving was a bad time for the mind to wander and analyze. She flipped through radio stations, but the more she tried to hold off the past, the harder the memories came, bombarding her until her head pounded with the old questions. How could she not have seen it? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t see the core of people? Had there been signs someone else would have seen? Would they have felt a warning of evil before it was too late?

A car honked and she brought her eyes up to the green light. Was she supposed to turn here? Keep going straight? With a line of cars behind her, she didn’t have time to sit and think about it.

Twenty-one hundred Central Avenue South. She repeated the address in her mind.

Her chest felt tight, squeezed. She turned right and right again, but instead of circling back, she hit a one-way street. The car was suddenly too small, closing in around her like a box. Were the numbers going up or down? A glance at the clock told her she had less than fifteen minutes. Still had to park, and walk.

She strained to read the street signs, but they passed in a blur. Buchannon? Buckman? She didn’t recognize either. Her upper lip grew damp and she cranked up the air. She couldn’t be late. She couldn’t lose this land.

But she saw his eyes, his hands. An ice pick. A blade. The smells. The pain. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!

She turned again and a sharp ringing split her ears. Tiny starbursts on black flashed in her vision. Her heart raced and she struggled to take a deep breath. No. She was fine, it was just anxiety. She could breathe.

Ten minutes. She shouldn’t be going over a river. Lost. She was lost. Never going to make it in time. She slowed, made a U-turn, and as she did the buildings on her right wavered in and out of focus, while the ones on the left were sharp, overly defined. Sweat dripped between her breasts at the same time she had the sensation of ice-cold liquid dripping through her veins.