„Richard is old news.“ She never even paused before adding, „Now about this assignment…“
Her editor heard the finality in her tone. This wasn’t the first time Grace had chosen career over romance.
He held out a two-page document. „Here it is. Pilots and fishermen swear they see a light dancing across the water of Spirit Lake. Dozens of them have responded, thinking it was a boater in trouble. The closer they get, the more the light begins to take on the shape of a woman. By the time they guide their plane or boat to the spot, the light, or whatever, is gone. Now I figure it’s the play of moonlight or starlight on the water, but you know how these things turn into folklore.“
Grace met his smile with one of her own.
„I see you agree with me. If you’re up for it, you’ll leave tomorrow. You’ll go in by supply seaplane and be picked up in three days, weather permitting. In, out, and a four-page spread in the next issue, depending on what you find. Even without solving the mystery, you ought to get some fabulous autumn shots of a lake that has all the curiosity factor of the Bermuda Triangle. Maybe you can play up the dark spirits angle.“
„Done.“ She took the information from his hand and sauntered to the door of his office. „I’m betting this mystery light-woman is the long-suffering wife of one of the fishermen, who just got tired of staying home while he was off having all the fun.“
Her editor chuckled. „You get a picture of that, we’ll have her on all the talk shows. See you the end of the week. And Grace, thanks for volunteering.“
„No problem. This one’s easy. No fuss, no bother, just me and my trusty camera.“
Her words came back to haunt her as she sat, deep in thought. If the mystery light never appeared, what was she going to use to fill four pages of one of the most popular news magazines in the world?
She gave a soft laugh. What did it matter? She would have the next few days to spend all by herself.
All by herself.
Didn’t that define her life? If she felt a little twinge at the realization that her future was looking as empty as her past, she shrugged it aside. She was very good at being alone. She’d had plenty of practice.
With her feet dangling inches above the water, she stared at the endless stretch of water. What would it feel like to slip beneath the waves? Was it possible to embrace death without a fight? Or would her subconscious take over and force her to swim? Not that she was actually contemplating doing such a thing. But the sight of all that dark water, the ancient trees surrounding it like a fiery fortress, was hypnotic. She couldn’t ignore the nagging little thought inside her head that kept asking if anybody would miss her. Oh, there were a few friends and acquaintances, but for the most part, she’d lived her entire life isolated from the world, trying to please just one person – her stern, unyielding father. When she’d chosen a career that would take her far from him, they’d had a terrible row. And now, like everyone else in her life, he was gone, and there was no chance to make it up to him.
At first Grace was so deep in thought, she wasn’t aware of the drone of the plane’s engines overhead. When the sound finally penetrated her consciousness, she looked up absently, wondering if the supply plane had doubled back on its route.
The drone of the engines grew louder, and she lifted a hand to her forehead to shield the sun from her eyes. What she saw had her leaping to her feet. It wasn’t the supply plane that had brought her here. It was another plane, smaller and flying much too low. If the pilot wasn’t careful, his craft was going to clip the tops of those trees. Even as the thought formed, the plane began spinning end over end. Just as it disappeared from view there was a tremendous explosion, followed by a fireball of smoke and flame that billowed up from the forest.
Heart pounding, Grace started running toward the site. It would be impossible for anyone to survive such a crash.
The acrid smell of smoke assaulted Grace as she picked her way through the woods. She could feel the waves of heat even before she pushed through the brush and into the very heart of the crash site. Small trees had been leveled, deep grooves cut into the earth where the plane had skidded before coming to rest against a solid wall of forest. All that was left of the airplane was twisted metal and charred rubble. If there were any bodies inside, they were beyond rescuing now.
With a sigh she backed away from the intense heat of the fire. As she turned she saw a blur of color against the drab landscape. Stepping closer she caught sight of a man’s body.
Was he dead?
Grace knelt and touched a hand to his throat, searching for a pulse. There it was. Faint. Thready.
Alive. Relief poured through her. But there was blood. So much of it. Grace reached into her pockets. Where was a clean tissue when she needed one? Whipping off her hooded sweatshirt, she unbuttoned her cotton shirt underneath and used it to mop at the blood that spilled from a cut on his arm, and another on his leg that had soaked through his pants.
She tore away his shirtsleeve and pants leg and examined the wounds. Despite the amount of blood, the cuts appeared to be fairly superficial. With a sigh of resignation, she tore her shirt from top to bottom, tying the torn fabric firmly around each cut to stem any further flow.
The fact that the stranger remained unconscious led her to probe the back of his head, but she could find no evidence of swelling or trauma. While she examined him, she thought he stirred. But when she looked down, his eyes were closed.
She debated the wisdom of moving him. If there were internal injuries, any movement could make matters worse.
Coming to a decision she wrapped her hooded sweatshirt around him for warmth. „You may be in shock. If so, you’ll need blankets and…“ She knew she was babbling to someone who couldn’t possibly hear her, but she felt the need to say something comforting. „Don’t worry. You’re not alone now. I’ll be back soon with some supplies. Just… hang in there.“
She patted his arm before turning away and racing back to the cabin.
Josh felt gentle hands probing, and the warmth of breath against his temple. Angels, he concluded. After what he’d gone through, there was no other logical explanation.
He’d always known, of course, that the risks he took in the lifestyle he’d chosen carried the strong possibility of an early death.
Like his father.
He took in a long, deep breath, expecting it to be his last. Now, finally, he would see the face of the man who, though he had died far too young, had left an indelible imprint on his son’s life.
Ignoring the occasional twinges of pain, he gave himself up to whatever fate awaited him in the afterlife.
Grace struggled to wheel the heavy cart over roots and rocks and mounds of earth. The forest was not only dense, but unforgiving. A backpack would have been more efficient, but since she had no idea how long she might have to survive without shelter, she’d brought all she could pack into the cart, and had replaced her bloody shirt wim a warm sweater, and over that a heavy parka.
At the crash site she worked as efficiently as possible unzipping a down sleeping bag and struggling to get the unconscious man into it.
Draping his arm around her shoulder she gently eased him into a sitting position. „Come on now, work with me.“
Though she coaxed and cajoled, the unresponsive man was a dead weight. Finally, through sheer effort, she managed to roll him into the sleeping bag and zip it closed.
Then she set about collecting wood for a bonfire. Getting the fire started was simple, since the remains of the plane were still smoldering. Holding a stick to the rubble until it flamed, she crossed to the logs and waited for the kindling to catch fire.
Draping a blanket around her shoulders, Grace sat cross-legged beside the unconscious man and touched a hand to his forehead. There seemed to be no fever. He made not a sound, so she couldn’t determine whether or not he was suffering.