“It’s my fault,” Kevin began as Fiona rushed after the dog. “It’s—”
“Don’t worry about that now. How far is she?”
“Just down there, by the water. I tried to move more into the open after last night. There was a storm.”
“Yeah.”
“We tried to stay covered. Jesus God. Where are we? Where the hell are we?”
Simon wasn’t entirely sure himself, but he saw Fiona and Bogart sitting beside a woman. “You’re found, Kevin. That’s what counts.”
He passed out candy bars, heated bouillon while Fiona checked and rebandaged the wound, elevated Ella’s swollen knee, treated the very nasty blisters on both her feet and Kevin’s.
“I’m such an idiot,” Kevin murmured.
“Yes, you are.” Huddled in a blanket, Ella managed a small smile. “He forgets to charge his phone battery. I’m so caught up in taking snapshots I talk him off the trail. Then
“Here.” Simon pressed the cup of bouillon on her. “Not as much fun as the Milky Way, but it should help.”
“It’s delicious,” Ella said after a small sip. “I thought we were going to die last night in that storm. I really did. When we were still alive this morning, I knew we’d make it. I knew somebody would find us.” When she turned to lay a hand on Bogart, the shine in her eyes shimmered with tears and relief. “He’s the most beautiful dog in the world.”
Bogart wagged his tail in agreement, then laid his head on Ella’s thigh.
“They’re sending an off-road.” Fiona hooked her radio back on her belt. “We can get you out in that. Your friends say you won the bet hands down, and they’re adding a magnum of champagne to drinks and dinner.”
Kevin dropped his head on his wife’s shoulder. As his shoulders shook, Bogart licked his hand in comfort.
“She’s not even pissed at him,” Simon observed as they bumped and rocked in a second off-road.
“Survival tops pissed off. They shared an intense, scary experience—and probably went off on each other a number of times during it. That’s done. They’re alive, and riding on euphoria. How about you?”
“Me? I had a hell of a time. It’s not what I expected,” he added after a moment.
“Oh?”
“I guess I thought you went out and tromped around, followed the dog, drank cowboy coffee and ate trail mix.”
“That’s not far off.”
“Yeah, it is. You’ve got one purpose out there, just like the dog. Find what’s lost, and find them as quickly as possible. You follow the dog, sure, but you handle the dog, and yourself while playing detective and psychologist and tracker.”
“Hmm.”
“All while being a team player—not just with the dog, but with the rest of the unit, the other searchers, the cops or whoever’s in authority. And when you find them, you’re paramedic, priest, best friend, mom and commander.”
“We wear many hats. Want to try some on?”
He shook his head. “You’ve already got my dog. He could do this. I get that now. Thank Christ,” he added when he saw the lodge through the trees. “I want a hot shower, a hot meal, a couple vats of coffee. Does that come with the package?”
“It will here.”
Chaos came first. Relief, tears, hugs, even as actual paramedics took over. Somebody slapped his back and shoved hot coffee into his hands. Nothing had ever tasted better.
“Good work.” Chuck tossed him a doughnut every bit as good as the coffee. “Helluva job. There’s a room for you inside if you want a hot shower.”
“Only as much as I want my next breath.”
“With you there. Ugly night, huh? But a damn good morning.”
He glanced over, as Chuck did, toward Ella and Kevin as the medics loaded Ella’s stretcher into an ambulance. “How’s she doing?”
“Knee’s banged up good, and she’ll need a few stitches. But they’re both better than they ought to be. They’ll fix her up. I guarantee this is a vacation they won’t forget.”
“Me either.”
“Nothing like a find,” Chuck said, and did another quick fist pump. “Well, go get that shower. Jill made up her spaghetti and meatballs, and you haven’t lived till you’ve eaten her meatballs. We’ll debrief over lunch.”
When he went inside, some motherly woman hugged him before pressing a room key in his hand. He turned toward the stairs, ran into Lori, got caught in another hug. Before he could get to the second floor, he had his hand shaken twice, his back slapped again. A little dazed, he found the room, closed himself inside.
Quiet, he thought. Silence—or nearly since the noise from downstairs and the corridors was nicely muffled by the door.
Solitude.
He dumped his pack in a chair, dug out the spare socks, boxers, shirt Fiona had instructed him to bring, the travel toothbrush she’d supplied.
On the way to the bathroom he glanced out the window. People continued to mill around. The dogs, obviously too juiced up from the game, trotted after humans or one another.
He didn’t find Fiona. He’d lost sight of her minutes after they’d gotten back to base.
He stripped, turned the shower on full and hot. And the instant the spray hit him every cell in his body wept with gratitude.
He might not be an urbanite, Simon thought as he just braced his palms on the tile and let the hot water pound over him, but Mother of God, he worshipped indoor plumbing.
He heard the tap-tap on the bathroom door and would’ve snarled if Fiona’s voice hadn’t followed it. “It’s me. Want company or do you want to ride solo?”
“Will the company be naked?”
His lips curved as he heard her laugh.
There was solitude, he thought, and solitude. And when she opened the shower door, tall, slim, naked, he decided he much preferred her kind.
“Come on in. The water’s fine.”
“Oh God.” As he had, she closed her eyes and wallowed. “It’s not fine. It’s bliss.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Oh. I needed to feed and water Bogart, touch base with the sergeant, set up the debriefing. We’re doing it over food, glorious food.”
“I heard. I haven’t lived till I eat the meatballs.”
“Solid truth.” She dunked her head, tipped it back so the water rained on her hair. Then just stood with her eyes closed and a
“I called Syl, told her we’d pick up the boys on our way back.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Things that must be done.”
“I’ve got another one.” He turned her to face him.
“Everyone celebrates in their own way.”
She sighed her way into the kiss. “I like yours.”
Twenty-Two
