“You did great, Chelsey. But we can’t stay long,” he warned. “Did you find anything useful?”
She lifted her head and forced herself to step out of his arms. She gathered herself and nodded. “Two cans of soup and two cans of beef stew but nothing to cook them in. Oh, and no cell phone service here, either. I tried.” She offered him the phone back.
“Clothes?” he asked, setting the phone aside.
She glanced back at the bedroom. “I’ll look, but it smells really musty in there.”
“Better musty than visible from a hundred yards away.” Duncan smiled and slipped past her. She followed, wondering if they’d find anything useful.
Duncan ripped aside the brown drapes over the window so they could see better. There was a quilt on the bed that may have been a bit moth-eaten, but he tugged it off the bed and handed it to her. “Be careful, but I need you to go outside and shake this out. We can use it for warmth.”
“Okay.” Beggars couldn’t be choosers, right? She eased out the door, staying well hidden behind the tress, and shook the quilt trying not to imagine bed bugs or other creepy crawlies falling to the ground.
When she was satisfied, she crept back inside to find Duncan standing near the kitchen table. “Look what I found.” He held up an army-green boxy thing.
“What is it?”
“A canteen. We’ll be able to carry water with us as we hike.”
It didn’t look like a canteen, not that she was an expert on camping equipment.
“I also found a couple of T-shirts, jeans, socks and one pair of hiking shoes.” He displayed them proudly as if they were better than gold, which was true. “The shoes are for you. I know they’ll be too big, but probably safer than the ballet slippers that are falling apart.”
She eyed them warily. “The clothes will be too big, too.”
“We’ll make a belt from what’s left of your dress.” He gestured at her filthy, torn and tattered gown that she still wore.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” She swept the shoes, socks, shirt and jeans into her arms and returned to the bedroom.
She had to admit that getting out of the dress made her feel light and free. It had been weighing her down more than she’d realized. Not just the fabric itself, but the entire incident.
The wedding that shouldn’t have happened. The groom that should have been safe but was now dead.
Tossing the dress aside, she thought of Brett. Her good friend who had supported her in the aftermath of losing her mother. He’d been so sweet and so kind.
And all she’d done was gotten him killed.
Well, not her personally, but the situation.
She closed her eyes for a moment and sent up a silent apology to him.
I’m so sorry, Brett. Please forgive me.
The tightness eased and she picked up the T-shirt and slipped it over her head. It was large, hanging down to midthigh, but not bad. She removed the ballet slippers, the fabric falling away as the seams finally gave up the fight. Resigned, she pulled the socks on next, which were also large, and then the jeans.
The denim was stiff and scratchy, and the waistband gaped at her waist by a good couple of inches. She took a moment to search the room for a belt, but didn’t find one. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled on the hiking boots, which were also too big.
Glancing at the remains of the ballet slippers, she decided that hiking boots that were too big had to be better than nothing which was her only alternative at the moment.
“You decent?” Duncan asked from the main room.
“Yes.” She stood and held the jeans in place with one hand. “I’ll need you to help me make a belt.”
“Happy to do that.” He entered the bedroom, wearing borrowed clothes as well that fit him far better than hers. The only difference was that he still wore his rented dress shoes so that she could have the hiking boots. He grinned. “You look great.”
“Wow, thanks.” She shook her head wryly. “Who would have thought wearing borrowed and wrong-sized clothing would feel so good?”
“We’ll be able to move through the woods easier now, which is exactly what we need.” After making her a belt from her wedding dress, he then balled up some extra fabric and knelt at her feet. He unlaced the hiking boot, then stuffed the fabric into the wide toe area. He glanced up at her. “Place your foot in and see what you think. Hopefully this will prevent your feet from sliding around too much.”
“It feels much better than what I had before,” she admitted.
He repeated the process with the other boot, then rose to his feet and offered his hand. “Ready?”
She placed her hand in his, took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”
He gently squeezed her fingers and drew her from the bedroom. On the table he had the canteen and the canned goods, along with a sack fashioned out of his filthy dress shirt.
Duncan slung the makeshift pack over his shoulder then tucked the moth-eaten quilt under his arm, before heading to the door, clearly expecting her to follow.
She hesitated, glancing once more around the cabin.
Leaving the shelter they’d found was more difficult than she’d imagined.
But she forced herself to move, putting her faith and trust in Duncan.
And in God.
Duncan hesitated in the narrow opening of the doorway, searching for any sign of danger. He had no idea if the gunman had gotten a glimpse of Chelsey as she’d made her way toward the cabin or not.
The last two rocks he’d thrown had not drawn gunfire. The lack of response confirmed his fear that the shooter was onto him. He’d moved swiftly after that, blending into the foliage with skills he’d learned in Afghanistan eating up the distance to the cabin in order to catch up with Chelsey.
As much as he’d hoped to stay at the cabin, starting a fire and maybe
