Page 32 of Chasing Dreams
Shaine made sandwiches for Tommy and Tricia, and by the time the rangers arrived with a paramedic, the sun hung low in the sky.
* *
Having caught his second wind, Austin watched the mud-encrusted Blazer leave, bent to pick up the split wood and carried it into the house. “Shaine?”
He didn’t get a reply. He got the fire going, popped some popcorn and finally, checked the bathroom and the downstairs, looking for her. “Shaine?”
Concerned, he climbed the stairs to the loft. She lay on his king-size bed, still wearing her jeans, jacket and hiking boots.
“Hey.” He touched her arm, but she didn’t rouse. Unlacing her boots, he tugged them off, still not disturbing her. Sure that nothing would disturb her now, he rolled her from one side to the other, removing her jacket, then took the side of the comforter and tucked it around her.
On its own, his hand reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face. It was like touching silk. He ran his fingers through the strands, wondering at his impulsive inclination to touch her.
He’d thought he was safe up here away from people. Away from the hurts of victims, away from the warped appetites of criminals, away from feelings. Away. Period.
But this woman had shown him he’d only been deluding himself. He couldn’t live the rest of his life without feeling something.
And right now he was feeling pretty confused. What had happened today was a one-in-a-million chance. He didn’t have much to measure it to, and he’d had some wild experiences. Rarely had he tuned in to anyone he could actually help. Oh, the victim’s families were often grateful to have a body to bury and to set their minds at ease. The police and the FBI knew he had done them a service. But bringing peace to a family was a threadbare reward.
Reaching a victim in time to prevent a tragedy wasn’t the norm.
Shaine had done just that. She’d been lucky.
Hadn’t she?
Or could she do it again?
With every fiber of his being, he’d discouraged her belief that her nephew was alive. He knew the pain and disappointment and guilt that accompanied being too late, and he didn’t want that for her.
But what if...?
What if there was an iota of a possibility that the child really was alive? He thought back over all the information she’d given him and her reasons for her belief. If there was a chance, even the smallest chance in the world, didn’t he owe that to her?
Austin combed his fingers through her hair one last time, lingered over the soft skin of her cheek and tenderly drew a line across her parted lips.
He thought it over carefully, making very sure he wasn’t doing this because he was undeniably attracted to her. He was doing this because she deserved her chance.
And so did her nephew. If he was still alive.
“Okay, pretty lady,” he said aloud. “We’re going to do it your way.”
He adjusted the coverlet one last time and left her to her sleep.
* *
“What you have to learn,” he said, with a startling new intensity behind his eyes, “is how your own intuitive sense works.”
Still fighting the groggy effects of the day before, Shaine concentrated on absorbing his words. Her morning cup of coffee had chugged life through her veins, and she’d stepped out on the porch for some fresh air. That’s where Austin had found her. “Okay,” she said. “I learn how my intuitive sense works.”
He leaned a hip against the porch rail and nodded, raising his own cup to his lips.
“And you’re going to tell me how to do this?” she asked.
“Give the sense your own definition,” he explained. “Not a label someone else calls it. Not even a label I call it. Give it a name and a color and credibility and whatever else it takes to know it. You have to acknowledge that you have this capability.”
“I have the ability,” she said with some assurance in her voice. “And Tom taught me to give my dreams names. That’s how he taught me to differentiate between them.”
“Good. So you understand what I’m saying.”
