Read [Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm Online

Authors: Janette Oke

[Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm (30 page)

Her back was to him as she fumbled with the lock of the door. He took a step toward her. “Amber.”
Her head swung around at the sound of her name.
“Look.” She looked, a little cry escaped her throat before she could muffle it with her hand.
“He’s fine. Just sleeping.” And then she was in his arms, weeping, clinging to his shirtfront, her head buried against his chest as all of the pent-up emotion of the long day poured out in a torrent of tears. He just held her.
CHAPTER
Twenty-Two
She did not cry for long. She was much too anxious to check Danny out for herself. She eased back from Henry and crossed to the child.
“Danny. Danny,” she whispered softly, gathering him into her arms.
He stirred and looked at her in confusion. Then he seemed to remember. She picked him up, holding him so tightly he squirmed.
“Where were you?” he asked. “I was worried.”
She laughed shakily. Henry wondered if she might become hysterical, but she kept her voice well in control.
“You
were worried? I was frightened half to death.”
He didn’t seem to understand her concern. He looked over at Henry. “I went fishing,” he said.
“Why? Why did you go off without asking?” she asked her son.
“I did ask,” he said simply. “I asked Papa Sam. You said he’s my boss when I’m at his house.”
“Papa Sam did not know that you meant to go fishing right now. Today.”
“He didn’t?”
“No... he just thought you meant... sometime.”
He seemed to think about that.
“I couldn’t fish anyway,” he finally said sadly. “The water was too big.”
“Well ... you’re here now ... safe and sound. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Can I have something to eat first?”
“Of course. Come on, I’ll get you some cereal and toast.”
“Should I take Papa Sam’s pole home first?”
“No. Papa Sam’s pole can wait for tomorrow. But we do need to call him right away and let him know you’re okay.”
“Was he worried too?”
“He was. The whole town was. We were all out looking for you,” she said with another squeeze.
The news seemed to surprise him.
Henry was waiting to be sure they were going to be okay. He was about to bid her a good-night when she turned back to him.
“You must be starved too. Won’t you come in? I don’t know what I’ve got that will cook up in a hurry, but we’ll find something.”
“How about some cereal?” He grinned.
“That might be it,” she answered with a wry smile.
She turned and led the way inside. “You may as well join us in the kitchen,” she said as they moved inside. “I need to get this boy fed, cleaned up, and into bed.”
She settled Danny into a chair at the table, the first time she let the boy out of her arms.
“Sit up there and I’ll get your cereal. Perhaps Sergeant Delaney will pop some bread in the toaster.”
They took turns washing their hands at the corner sink, and she wiped off Danny’s mud-streaked face and hands. Henry was handed the partial loaf of bread while she poured cereal into a yellow bowl and added the milk. She went to the phone to call her folks.
He thought she might start crying again, but she was able to maintain her composure. It was not a long conversation. Just a very excited one.
The smell of the toast reminded Henry of just how hungry he was. It had been hours since he’d had anything in his stomach.
While Danny ate, she put on the coffeepot and brought out some bacon and eggs.
Danny had finished about half of the cereal before his eyes began to droop. “I don’t think he’s going to make it,” Henry noted with a chuckle. “He’s about to fall asleep in his chow.”
She laughed. Such a different sound, he thought. Truly happy. Totally at ease.
“How about if I carry him off?” Henry suggested. “You just lead the way.”
The child’s head dropped onto Henry’s shoulder, and his small arms encircled his neck. Henry fought the urge to kiss his tousled head. He was a tough little guy.
She didn’t bother with pajamas, just slipped off his shoes and dusty socks and tucked him in. “I’ll finish cleaning him up tomorrow.” She stood by the bed, her face showing her wonder at having her son back. She touched his forehead and tucked the blankets around him one more time.
By the time they returned to the kitchen, the coffee was boiling. “Do you mind if I use your phone?” Henry asked. “I’ve got a couple of officers who will be mighty glad to hear the good news.”
While he made his calls, she fried up the bacon and eggs. His stomach rumbled as he hung up the receiver. It was his assignment to make more toast.
They sat down to the simple meal in her neat little blue-and-white kitchen. Henry felt he had never enjoyed a better feast in his entire life.
“I wonder how long he sat in that chair while we combed the creek bank in the dark?” she mused, cup in hand. “Pretty silly, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” he agreed. “Life can be a little silly at times.”
She was quiet for several minutes. He felt her thoughts were far away, and he was not inclined to intrude upon them.
“You called me Amber,” she said at last.
He felt his face grow hot.
“How did you know my name?” she wondered.
How could he explain it ... yet how could he not? He couldn’t lie.
She put her coffee cup down and looked at him evenly, her head propped on one hand. “It was you ... wasn’t it? The Mountie who came?”
He nodded.
“And you knew who I was ... all this time?”
Another nod.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
She smiled, a bit tentatively. “It’s ironic. I always told myself that if I ever met that Mountie again, I would give him my thanks.”
“Thanks?” He was shocked.
“For being so kind. For trying to help ... in a terrible situation. For not deserting me.”
He could not speak.
“And when I did meet you, all I could do was snap—”
“Well, hardly snap. Although, maybe a little... but at least you didn’t bite.” His teasing lessened the tension of the moment.
She quickly became serious again. “I did appreciate it. Deeply. I still do.”
“Thanks,” he said simply, but he was stirred inside by this more than he could say.
She picked up her cup again and held it before her in both hands. “Do you suppose we ... we could sort of start over?”
“I’d like that.” He slid his hand across the table, palm upward. She did not hesitate but reached out to meet his hand. Her fingers curled around his. When she did not immediately let go, he put his other hand over hers.
“You’ve got a great little boy,” he said, meaning it with all his heart.
Her eyes shone with tears, but he knew she was not going to cry again. “I know,” she said, her voice a whisper. “And you know what? I think he’d love to go camping.”
“I’d like that too.” He grinned and she smiled in return.
He released her hand and stood to his feet. “Now I suggest some sleep. Unless I can help with washing up these dishes.”
“No dishes. Not tonight. Not for anyone. I’m exhausted.”
“Then I’d better get on home. Thanks for the supper. That was the best meal I’ve ever had.”
“You were half starved,” she laughed. “You would’ve eaten cold mashed potatoes.”
They both laughed. Then he said, “Even if I hadn’t been so hungry, it still would have been the best meal I’ve ever had.”
“We did have cause to celebrate, didn’t we?”
He looked into her face and nodded. He thought she understood.
She followed him to the door. He picked up his hat from the couch and bid her good-night. As she stood there in the wash of soft lamplight, holding the door and trying once again to express her thanks, he wondered just what it would be like to hold her when she wasn’t weeping. In his heart he dared hope that it wouldn’t be too long until he would know the answer.
A few days later he stopped by the barbershop on the way home. His heart was hammering in his chest. Had he read things wrong? Had she simply been an overwrought mother expressing her relief when she had talked about starting over? What did “starting over” mean to her? Had she really opened the door to friendship—maybe just a crack?
He would soon find out. But the very thought frightened him. Her response to his query would decide about any future relationship.
He fervently hoped there would not be a lineup for her barber chair.
A neighborhood farmer, tucking his billfold in his rear pocket, was just leaving the shop. They nodded a good-morning to one another, and Henry stepped through the door the man held for him.
She was folding the cape, her back to him. He removed his hat, took a deep breath, and said, “Good morning.”
She glanced up, catching his image reflected in the mirror, then turned slowly toward him, a smile lighting her lips and her eyes.
“Good morning. Need a haircut already?”
“No ... actually, I was passing by—” Henry began, then quickly amended his statement to, “No, that’s not right either. I had to make a detour to get here.”
Her smile deepened. She waited for him to go on.
“I was just wondering. I have Saturday off. Thought maybe we could take Danny on that fishing trip. To the lake—not the creek.”
He held his breath and waited, heart thumping so furiously he feared she might hear it.
“He’d love that,” she said, and there was not a moment’s hesitation.
“And you?”
“I’d like it too.”
She sounded as though she really meant it. She hadn’t said she’d love it, but her eyes told him she thought she might.
“I’ll fix us a lunch,” she continued. “What time should we be ready?”
“About ten?”
“Ten sounds great. Danny will be so excited.” She gave him another smile that sent a shot of adrenaline to his already overworked heart.
“See you then.” He tipped his Stetson and stepped out the door. It was all he could do to keep from shouting. It was going to be awfully hard to wait for Saturday.
They had a wonderful time. Danny was so excited they covered the first three miles of the trip before he could stop chattering. Henry laughed, remembering how it was when he’d been a boy on his way to the lake with a fishing pole. Of course, he’d been considerably older than Danny by the time he’d had his first opportunity, but the happiness was the same.
They spent the morning on the dock. Henry caught a couple of nice-sized jackfish, and Danny managed to land a smaller one. Even his mother tried her hand at fishing. Henry had to show her how to hold the pole. How to watch the bobber. She squealed with delight when a fish struck—but she lost it before she could bring it ashore.

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