Page 1 of Emma's Element

Chapter one

Whentheearthgaveway under Marcus Rayne’s feet, a very unmanly shriek escaped from his lips before he felt himself drop. He tumbled and slid with dirt and rocks until coming to an abrupt and jarring stop. He lay on his back, stunned and staring up into the bright blue sky. Blinking, he tried to wrap his brain around what had just happened.

He’d been standing on the top of a cliff overlooking Lake Superior, breathing in the pure Michigan air, hoping to filter out the toxicity from LA, both environmental and professional. The sweet scent of cedar and other pines infused the surrounding environment. The breeze through the trees, the occasional chirp of birds, and the waves breaking against the bottom of the cliff the only sounds penetrating the solitude. It had been quiet and peaceful . . . until it wasn’t.

Excruciating pain radiating from his left shoulder had him gasping for breath. He sat up to look at the offending shoulder, causing himself so much agony that he howled with pain. Gingerly, fighting off the black dots that hovered at the edges of his vision, he turned his head; the joint did not look right.

Shit.He’d dislocated his shoulder. Closing his eyes, he took stock of the rest of his body. Things felt sore and bruised, but there was a sharper pain making itself known in his left leg.

Opening his eyes, he gritted his teeth and lifted his head to assess the damage. The leg was lying at an unnatural angle, broken just below the knee.This is going to do wonders for my career.

Marcus had always enjoyed hiking . . . alone. It gave him time to decompress. To think. To purge the sludge that clogged his soul. He hadneededthe open air to rejuvenate; it was his sanctuary. Spending most of his days indoors on a sound stage, he had craved the great outdoors and couldn’t wait for a break in his schedule so that he could escape. Since achieving success in Hollywood, his greatest desire was to escape . . . alone . . . as often as he could.

His life as an acclaimed movie star meant there were always people . . . everywhere. People who told him how to act. People who told him what to wear. What to say. Where to stand. People who wanted things from him. Autographs. Pictures. Interviews. Fake people who only wanted to be his friend because of who he was. Family members who only wanted to leech off his success. He was tired of it all.

In between press junkets for his latest Titan superhero movie, he’d decided to do some hiking in Presque Isle, Michigan, on a sunny May day. He wore his favorite beat-up Penn State hat pulled low over his forehead and aviator sunglasses to hide his features. He was alone. Alone and content to commune with nature.

Perhaps that decision had not been very wise, but there was nobody in his life who understood his desire . . . his need . . . to escape to the great outdoors.

Jaw aching from clenching his teeth through the stabbing agony, he looked down at his leg. Not spotting any blood, he didn’t think the bone had broken through the skin. His head dropped back to the rock, and he looked up to the spot he’d fallen from. It was forty or fifty feet back to the top. Giving himself a few minutes to come to grips with his situation and the discomfort, he rolled to his uninjured side and pushed himself up.

Black dots swirled in his vision, and he breathed through his mouth, which helped offset the pain. Once the worst of the dizziness had passed, he slid away from the edge of the rock he had landed on, dragging his broken leg until his back was against the cliff wall. Looking around him and realizing what he was sitting on, he figured the outcropping of rock was no bigger than the extra-large beanbag chair he’d had as a kid. That thing could fit two or three people easily. He’d spent many hours lounging in it, watching the movies that had fascinated him so much. He’d loved that thing until the day his little brother jumped on it and a seam burst. Styrofoam beads exploded everywhere. To protect his brother, he’d endured the beating from his father that accompanied the incident, before cleaning up the mess regardless of the pain he was experiencing.

Shaking off the memory, Marcus peered over the edge from where he sat. He guessed it was another twenty feet to the rocky shoreline. Too high to jump down, especially with a broken leg. Squinting, he examined the side of the cliff to gauge how easy it would be for him to climb up. He’d done some climbing?in a gym?but with a shoulder and a leg out of commission, climbing would not be possible.

Well, shit! This was just great. He’d wanted to greet the great outdoors head-on, but this was not exactly what he’d had in mind.

Berating himself for not thinking of it immediately, he pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket. The screen was cracked, but it still worked and he scowled at the readout.

Shit!No signal.

He tried that ridiculous thing humans do when attempting to find a signal on their cell; he held it higher, waving it back and forth. Still nothing. No problem, someone would spot him and call for help. But with the sun setting, most hikers would have made their way back to their cars. Still, he called out for help. After a few tries with no response, he gave it a rest.

Closing his eyes again, he rested his head against the cliff wall. He needed to figure out a plan of action, but the throb in his limbs made it difficult to think. To remedy that, he slid his right arm out of the strap for the pack he carried. Leaning forward, he pulled the pack to his left and gingerly slid the strap down his injured arm, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out in pain. Using just one hand, he rummaged through it until he found his pain relievers, popping four into his mouth and swallowing with a few sips from his water bottle. Even through his haze of pain, he knew he would need to ration his food and water.

Marcus resigned himself to the very real possibility of having to stay the night on the cliff. It’d been a long time since he’d camped out under the stars. His lifestyle in LA wasn’t very conducive to a life outdoors. He’d be lucky if he could even see any stars from his place in the City of Angels. But camping in a tent was entirely different from the situation he was in currently. Between his injuries and his precarious position on the outcropping of rock, he didn’t delude himself into thinking this would be a relaxing night with only the stars for company.

He stared out across Lake Superior, the setting sun lighting a distant island’s foliage aglow. It was a beautiful sight, although he wished he could enjoy it from the safety of the hiking trail. Hell, he’d even settle for the overlook he knew was not too far from his current location. He usually avoided places like that since tourists flocked to them, preferring to hike incognito; hence the hat and sunglasses which had disappeared sometime during his fall.

As time wore on and the light dwindled, his mind drifted to the people in his life. His mom, who had died years ago, had been his hero, taking the brunt of the abuse his father doled out in an effort to protect him and his brother, Charlie. He’d finally been able to defend her when he’d turned twelve. He’d hit a growth spurt and soon matched his father in height. After working hard to gain strength, he’d felt confident in standing up to the bastard. The man disappeared soon after.

Charlie, who only came out of the woodwork when he needed something from Marcus, seemed to have followed in his deadbeat father’s stellar footsteps. He’d been a quiet kid, and Marcus did his best to shield him from their father’s rages. But as he grew, he’d become bitter, believing the world owed him something. He bounced from job to job, hitting Marcus up for money every couple of months. He’d never seen any evidence of drug use or other vices, just pure laziness. It may be time for him to cut his brother off, make him stand up and take responsibility for his own life choices.

Then there were the friends?or people he thought had been his friends. But they had used him as well. Some to further their own careers. His one-time best friend, who’d embezzled from a charity they’d set up together, was the most detestable of the bunch.

The girls he’d dated were no better. Most just wanted to sleep with him so they could add the famous Marcus Rayne to their list. His notoriety became their catnip, luring them in as if they needed him to live?to further their career.

Then came the agents, publicists, bodyguards. People he paid hefty sums to do what he needed them to. But instead of listening to him, they used him like a marionette, pulling the strings on every aspect of his life. He’d grown tired of it and had given serious consideration to leaving it all behind, buying a cabin deep in the woods somewhere, distancing himself from everyone and everything.

And that was the crux of his angst?his loneliness. If he died here on this rock, he’d have no one who’d mourn him. Sure, millions of fans adored him, but none of them knew the real him. None of them knew his secret passions. But he had only himself to blame for most of it. He hadn’t wanted them to know too much about his personal life, needing to keep some things private. No matter how controlling all the people around him were, they would never control his true self.

Which was why he was in his current situation, alone. No one could understand his need for fresh air and nature. He’d never met another person who was as comfortable in this element as he when he explored the great outdoors. But just once, it would be nice to have someone to share it with, a dream that haunted him as he succumbed to the pain and drifted off to sleep.

Marcus woke up several times throughout the night. Mostly to pop a few more pain pills and eat a handful or two of trail-mix. Finally, when he opened his eyes, the first rays of the sun were making an appearance on the horizon of the lake. Since he was on the east side, he would get a spectacular view.

As the sun lit his perch, a bit of color poured through a crack in the rock. A small purple flower sprouted from the sandstone, offering itself to the light. It was alone, like him, but still reaching for life. Its tenacity in adversity was inspiring.

The loneliness he’d felt last night eased as his open-air lodging was bathed in a golden glow. He would persevere like that flower, grateful for all that he did have. Because of the success of the Titan movies, he could pick and choose any project he wanted. And yet, he fantasized giving it all up. But if he did, if he was no longer an actor, then who was he? All he’d ever done was act. In his thirty-four years, he’d never wanted to do anything else. His teenage self had never imagined how lonely the life of an actor could be.

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