managed to touch something inside her. “Relaxing,” she said heavily. It was hard to get the word out. But a tendril of panic began to penetrate her cave. She didn’t want to have to explain what was really going on. She didn’t know if she could. This guy probably wouldn’t even be able to understand.
“No,” he said after a moment.
She watched, still not caring, as he packed up her stuff. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Where?”
“Someplace quiet.”
She couldn’t even work up the energy to argue. The observer scolded her, but she didn’t care. It would pass on its own. It always did.
She didn’t resist as he led her to a forest service truck across the street and helped her in. He tossed her belongings in the back, then climbed in beside her and drove them out of town toward the forest.
“Why?” she managed to ask finally.
“Because I know a thousand-yard stare when I see it.”
Wow. That should have evoked a response, but it didn’t. She drew a breath, a deep one, trying to sync herself to reality again.
“There’s a cabin I’m taking you to,” he continued as if they were having an ordinary conversation. “It’s one we keep for foresters and researchers. I was going to stay there tonight. Got a hankering for a real meal and a real shower. There’s plenty of room, it’s peaceful and nobody will bother you.”
Except him. He’d walked into her cave. Oddly, she didn’t feel any irritation.
Nor did he try to draw her out. The rest of the long drive, he didn’t say a word. The shadows had grown lengthy by the time the truck bumped up to a small cabin in a clearing that was only slightly larger. She saw his horse in a small corral, grazing contentedly.
It wasn’t until he parked and came to help her out that things began to come together again. Chilly pine-scented air and the quiet of the forest reached her. She was coming back.
For the first time since that morning she felt something: a massive wave of relief. The world began to take on depth and reality again, no longer seeming like a colorless play she watched from a distance.
Inside the cabin, she sat in a rustic but well-padded chair while he built a fire in a woodstove. Soon the heat began to reach her, and she took another long breath.
She was back. Looking around, she took in the basic decor, evidence that this was a temporary dwelling used by those who didn’t demand conveniences. He had a lit a few oil lamps and was now heating some cast-iron cookware on top of the woodstove.
“I hope you like steak,” he said. “I’ve got some fresh broccoli I picked up today, but not enough to qualify as a meal.”
“I like steak.”
He turned from the stove. “You’re looking better.”
“Sorry.”
He shook his head. “No apologies.”
“This doesn’t happen anymore. At least not for years now.”
He pulled a bench over and studied her. “Buddy?”
“I guess. I thought I was fine. I went to the square to paint this morning, then...I don’t know. It’s been a long time.”
He nodded, seemed to hesitate as if not sure whether he should press her. Finally he rose again and went to cook dinner.
Delicious smells wafted around her.
“Sorry the mashed potatoes are instant. We have to make some sacrifices, and I wasn’t expecting company when I shopped.”
“That’s fine.” And it was fine. Everything was fine again, fine enough that she stood up. “What can I do to help?”
“You can help later. What I’d like to know is what’s going on with you.”
She supposed she owed him at least something since he’d cared enough to charge in like Lancelot on a white steed. Well, olive forest service truck. “I’m a veteran. It’s been a long time, but sometimes I just...go away inside myself.”
“And Buddy caused that?”
“I can’t say for sure. I haven’t...dissociated like that in years. Maybe it was talking to a veterans group the other night.”
“You did that?”
“I work in rehab with vets at home. Somebody told them I was coming up here and they got in touch with me. Although, it doesn’t bother me at home. I mean, I deal with vets and their problems five days a week. But the thing is, if it was Buddy yelling at me, I should have reacted when it happened.”
He didn’t answer for a minute as he turned the steak and stirred the broccoli. “Maybe it was thinking about coming back out here to paint that set it off.”
“Frankly, it shouldn’t have happened at all. It’s been years!”
“I believe you,” he said quietly. “I’m really sorry it happened. It must have felt like having a rug yanked out from under you.”
His understanding was nothing short of amazing. She said quietly, “It took me years to trust my own mind again.”
“I know.”
“How can you know?”
“I have a brother who never could.”
“Craig...”
“Sh.” He turned from the stove, smiling. “Let’s just enjoy dinner, shall we? You can tell me as little or as much as you want. Or we can talk about all the names of the wildflowers and plants.”
Just like that, reality zipped its seams back together and she laughed. Everything was okay now.
Except for the fear, long buried, that this might happen again.
Chapter 3
After dinner she helped him wash up in a kettle of water he had heated on the stove. The simple task was welcome, and it felt good to be focused again.
The thing was, she didn’t know what to talk to him about. He’d stepped in and rescued her, but he had also seen a weakness in her that embarrassed her.
Yes, she knew it was normal, given where she’d been. It hadn’t happened in a long, long time. There was no reason to think it might happen again anytime soon. But at the same time she had just cratered the trust in herself that she had worked so hard to regain.
He was right about one thing: she felt as if a rug had been pulled out from beneath her feet, and worse, he’d seen her take the pratfall. Not even Hector had ever been faced with that, and they’d lived together.
This guy was a stranger who was now more intimately knowledgeable about her than a guy she had thought
