Page 11 of Wandering Souls

Chapter Three

In the grassy fieldnear the cottage, Abi reclined on a wicker chair, using another one to elevate and rest her aching leg. The sun had come out again, warming her with a gentle heat. A light breeze rustled the tall wild grasses around her and as the afternoon waned, crickets began chirp. It seemed her morning adventure served to over-tax her injured muscles and no amount of icing helped. Spending the afternoon lazing in the spring sunshine was a good start.

Her thoughts drifted back to her meeting with the detective. The very tall, very red-headed man’s commanding presence softened when he saw his dog. The way he’d looked on Bruce with kind eyes stirred a desire of homecoming that resonated deep within her soul, a yearning she didn’t think could never be reconciled.

She had no doubt the dog’s disappearance had caused a great deal of worry but rather than chastise the animal, Ray Wells used humor and care to welcome him back. Remembering the gratitude in his expression sent a flutter through her belly and even now, she felt her pulse quicken.

Abi gave a shake to dislodge the spark of attraction. It was stupid really, and completely inconvenient. Her stay in the Crossing would be temporary at most, and getting attached to anyone here was impractical. Besides, she’d come to learn as much about her father as she could, though how she’d raise the topic with Hollywood was anyone’s guess. She couldn’t think of a seamless way to slip into conversation that he’d served under her father’s command and, oh, by the way, what kind of man was he?

She sighed and adjusted her sunglasses as the sound of footsteps approached. Her eyes blinked open to see a silhouette against the sun. A flashback to the moments after the crash in January struck her blind. Like an exact repeat, the uncanny collision of the past and the present jolted her out of her rest.

Her body jerked, knocking her off the chair and onto the ground, the impact reverberating up her spine. Her hand went to her calf, searching for the familiar shape and safety of her KA-BAR, but it wasn’t there. Abi scrambled to her feet, both chairs tumbling over in her haste to escape. Standing crouched, ready to flee, her heart raced and her thigh screamed at the sudden movement.

“Whoa there!” The shadow stopped moving, hands raised in a show of peace.

Abi swallowed and took off her sunglasses. Fighting the images flashing through her mind, she blinked against the glare of the sun and used her hand to shield her eyes. She assessed the muscular man for signs of threat. Older, perhaps in his thirties, he sported a graying beard and a head of hair that was more salt than pepper. He removed his sunglasses to reveal warm, startled brown eyes.

“Sorry about that.” He lowered his hands. “My name is Colt. I’m staying in the cottage over there.” He pointed, his upper body twisting away from her. Dressed in khaki cargo pants and white shirt, his relaxed body language assured her he wasn’t here to attack. “I hope you don’t mind, but Hollywood mentioned you might like some company.”

In a bid to control the adrenaline rushing through her system, Abi took a long, slow breath. She noticed he stared down at her leg where she rubbed the achy muscles. “You took me by surprise,” she said, forcing a laugh.

“Yeah.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “This probably isn’t the place to sneak up on people. My bad.”

His apology and contrite expression settled her nerves. Wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, she held out a hand. “Abigail.”

With a smile, he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Abigail. Hollywood tells me you were in Kandahar?”

“Affirmative.”

His eyes widened. “And you’re a pilot?”

Abi nodded.

Colt motioned to the overturned chairs. “May we?”

He didn’t wait for a response, simply bent and righted both wicker chairs before she could move. She watched as he settled himself and debated whether an explain was needed. She wanted to think the past was in the past, but it wasn’t and her reaction to his approach proved it. Abi closed her eyes for a moment.

You’re home.

You’re safe.

The chant almost worked. Calmer, she opened her eyes, repositioned her shades and took a seat. Whether on purpose or not, the chairs didn’t directly face each other. Offset by a small margin, their placement felt neutral and relaxed, and gave her edgy nerves another reason to settle.

“You don’t need to apologize for being startled. We get so used to being hyper-vigilant that we forget it’s okay to relax.”

“Hollywood said you served in Afghanistan, too.”

He nodded. “My team and I were returning from a day of rebuilding a small village when IEDs took out both our vehicles.”

Her stomach clenched. “How many men did you lose?”

An eyebrow twitched. “All of them.”

---