Page 42 of Silent Threat
She simply held out her hand.
He held her amber gaze. He didn’t want the help. Everything he was pushed him to stand on his own. But then there was this other impulse, this sudden need to take her hand, to touch her.
He reached for her before he could think about it. She smiled. And then he was standing.
He didn’t want to let her go, but she pulled away, walking off the path and into the woods. He followed her.
Why? He wasn’t a follower. He’d always been a leader. Yet he didn’t question where she was going or why he should go with her.
She walked only fifty feet or so, to a giant tree, the trunk close to four feet wide. Pine boards were nailed to the trunk at foot-high intervals leading up. Cole looked at the tree house above them.
Annie went first, climbing easily.
He climbed after her, left hand up, then when his feet were steady on the next board, his right hand worked well enough to keep him from falling back as he reached over his head with his left again. He came out in a six-foot-by-six-foot little room that had only a floor, a roof, and half walls around it.
She sat in the far corner, cross-legged. “It’s a deer blind. People used to hunt in these woods, but the area was posted after the rehab center went up. The buildings are too close. Nobody uses the blind anymore. I come here sometimes when it rains.”
He sat in the opposite corner and crossed his own legs on the roughly hewn floorboards, mirroring her. Because the space was small, there was only about a foot or two of distance between their knees.
She glanced at his right cheek, then glanced away quickly.
Was he still bleeding? He wiped at the spot with his sleeve. Nothing but a few dark spots—just a shallow cut.
The rain drew a curtain around them, making their hiding spot intimate. He took another look around before returning his gaze to her. “What do you do here?”
“Meditate.” She drew a slow breath that made her chest rise. “I listen to nature. It—”
She caught herself and flinched, then shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry. You’re not here for a session.”
“What does the rain sound like?” He remembered, but he wanted to know how she experienced it, because it was obvious that rain didn’t mean the same thing to them.
While he didn’t mind being wet, to him, rain had always been a nuisance. The sound ofneed to wait for a better shot. Diminished visibility. Diminished hearing, which meant someone might sneak up on them.
Annie’s blissful expression said she enjoyed the rain. Her shoulders relaxed. She rested her head on the post behind her and closed her eyes. Cole’s gaze skimmed her earth-mother figure, then settled on her generous lips.
“The rain on the roof is soft, steady, almost like music. Then there is a background chorus, fainter, the sound of the rain on the leaves. It’s almost the same feeling as when you’re listening to someone’s heartbeat. Like you’re listening to life itself.”
Yeah. Cole was pretty sure he’d never had those thoughts about rain.
Her words made him want to lean over and press his ear against her chest, listen to her heartbeat, which of course he couldn’t, even if she let him.
But even if he couldn’t listen to her heart, couldn’t listen to the rain, a peace descended on him from watching the quiet pleasure on her face. She wasn’t a striking beauty, but her serenity enthralled him. He couldn’t look away. She had reservoirs of inner peace and kindness that reflected on the outside, and both qualities drew him.
He felt the peace she brought almost like a physical presence. He’d felt it during their first session, at the clearing when he’d actually fallen asleep, then when he’d watched her snuggled up with her baby skunks, and now here in the rain. He hadn’t felt peace for so long, and these moments of tranquility were a precious gift. The fresh scent of rain and forest filled him and made him light-headed for a moment.
Not ten minutes ago, in that puddle, he’d been drowning in bitterness and rage. And now ...
The contrast was pretty stunning.
He understood that he was looking at another world, a world to which Annie was the doorway. Did he dare enter?
He wanted to tell her that he was glad they’d met ... without sounding like a sap. He cleared his throat.
She opened her eyes and immediately smiled, as if smiling like that was nothing, as if it was as natural as breathing. “Are you feeling better?”
He was, but something inside him wouldn’t let him concede that easily. “I’m not feeling worse.”
Her smile widened, as if she could see right through him. “Did you hurt your shoulder?”
