took that picture of her, the one you carry. Why didn’t you show it to me before?”
“Shannon, you were locked up inside yourself. I didn’t know how to reach you, didn’t even know how to begin. I was afraid that no matter what I did or said, it would be the wrong thing.”
“I held you when she died,” he told her in a tone that sounded as hollow as the wind racing across a barren plain. “It was the only thing I could think to do.”
“I cried. You didn’t.”
“I didn’t need to.”
“Didn’t need…”
“I tried to tell you that. Tried and failed. I know that now. Through Gray Cloud, I found peace, something I was unable to give you. I wish it could have been different, that your grief hadn’t scared me.”
“Scared? Peace?”
“Shannon, I went into the woods right after she died because I needed answers, a way to deal with what had happened. I asked Gray Cloud to take care of our daughter. He told me she was in the air, the earth, water. She would always be in those places, always be safe and happy.”
It hurt to speak. “You told me Summer was with him and I shouldn’t be sad. Cord, I didn’t have your belief in Gray Cloud and his world. I needed more than words about her being with her great-grandfather. I needed you.”
He looked as if she’d slapped him. Still, he didn’t lean away. “I had-”
“I know. You had to work so you could pay the bills. I understand that much better now than I did then. But-”
“But I shouldn’t have let it take me away from you. I wanted to talk to you, wanted to help you start talking, but I was afraid that whatever I said, it would be the wrong thing.”
“You did?”
“I knew how you felt about my being gone. I thought I knew how much you hurt. I didn’t want us to dwell on that. I thought-I wanted to avoid causing you any more pain. Only, that was the wrong thing to do. I know that now.”
“Cord, I just saw you with that man. You aren’t afraid of anything.”
“Back then I was afraid of your emotions, your grief. My inability to give you the sense of peace I’d found.” He continued slowly, his voice rough. “I can’t be anything except who I am. I was shaped, to a large extent, by my grandfather.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Really?”
Not sure what he wanted from her, she waited.
“Gray Cloud came to the hospital just before my mother died. He found me in an empty room where I’d gone to hide and told me I was going to live with him. Then he took me to see my mother. She opened her eyes and looked at him and he looked back, but they didn’t say anything. After she died, he held me, but he didn’t say a word. I don’t think he ever spoke her name again.”
“Why… not?”
“It was too hard for him. I knew that, in my heart. He’d be watching me and I’d see something in his eyes that told me he was thinking of her. Mourning lost years. He’d touch me or we’d go off into the mountains together and I’d know that was his way of being close to her. And of bringing us together without having to talk about it.”
As she stood listening to the breeze and unseen birds with Cord beside her but not touching, she felt exhaustion seep into her very being. He’d told her something important, something that might, finally, allow her to understand him. But searching for and finding their son had stripped away her ability to think. To feel.
“Cord, we need to get off this mountain. Maybe then…”
He gazed at her for long seconds, then let his attention shift to Matt’s huddled form. Looking at him, she was once again filled with an urgent need to put distance between them. She’d nearly died when their marriage collapsed around her; she couldn’t handle any more emotion. Couldn’t handle anything.
Without telling Cord what she was doing, she walked over to where he and Chuck had fought. She wasn’t sure whether she could see his blood or not; it didn’t matter. What did was facing the fact that Cord had risked his life and now she felt nothing, absolutely nothing. Their marriage had ended seven years ago. It
When a full minute passed without Cord having said or done anything, she turned back around. He wasn’t where she’d left him. Where-
A sound so light she couldn’t be sure she’d heard it pulled her attention toward Matt. Cord was standing over him, looking so much a part of his surroundings that she wasn’t sure whether he was real. He stared down at his son.
She heard the sound again, a human being in pain. Matt? No. Matt was dead to the world.
Cord. The sound came from him.
She began to tremble but forced herself to remain a silent observer. Slowly, shoulders heaving, he lifted a band to his face and pressed it against his forehead. Then he dropped to his knees, his body hunched over his son’s sleeping form.
Grabbing blindly for something to hold on to, she snagged her palm on a branch but ignored the pain. Cord’s entire body shook, deep spasms wrenched from his soul. She felt heat in her eyes and had no desire to try to stem her own emotion.
Cord, crying for his son.
Alone.
As she closed the distance between them, her left foot brushed against a rotting branch. She kicked it aside, blinked to clear her vision, and kept going. Then when she was only a few inches from him, she stopped. Maybe he didn’t want to share this moment with anyone. If she’d been the one in his place, she’d want and need privacy.
But the two of them already shared the child responsible for his tears.
“Cord?” Feeling as if she’d never touched him before, she laid her right hand along the side of his neck. “He’s all right.”
Silence. Only this one she understood as clearly as she understood the beating of her own heart.
“You found him. No one-no one but you could have done that. He’s alive. Thank God, he’s alive.”
Cord’s body quieted a little. Still, his every breath took incredible effort. Acting instinctively, she leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. He placed a hand on Matt’s cheek; his fingers began a restless, aimless movement over smooth young flesh.
“He’s fine, safe.”
Cord still did nothing to acknowledge her presence. Or rather, if she hadn’t known him-known him in a way she hadn’t comprehended until this moment-she wouldn’t have been aware of the change in him. But although he continued to struggle to control the emotion that had him in its grip, she felt him begin to relax. To find peace within himself.
“Why didn’t you tell me how scared you were?”
“Scared? It wasn’t…that.”
No. It wasn’t. He’d been terrified when he heard the rifle and undoubtedly uneasy from the moment he knew who shared Copper Mountain with them. But his tears had been born of emotion far deeper than fear-love for his son.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”
She felt the effort it took for him to push himself to his feet, half saw, half felt him turn toward her, and wondered if he cared that she could see his tears. As soon as he touched her cheek, the question evaporated.
“There’s nothing else in life like it.” His unsteady fingers slid under her chin, found the side of her neck and covered the vein there. “No feeling in the world like what we feel for our children, is there?”
“No, Cord. There isn’t.”
“Love. There aren’t any words.”
