Page 35 of The Daddy She Needed

Her lungs burned. Her calves screamed. She wasn’t used to running on such steep terrain. She’d rolled an ankle slightly about a kilometre further back, but it hadn’t slowed her down much; pain was just part of running marathons.

The land was pretty rugged up here but the view was gorgeous. Below her, the valley stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the river meandered peacefully along the valley floor. Through the willow trees. Sheep grazed along the banks. In the distance, snow still graced the mountain tops. Did it ever melt completely, this high up? She was right in the heart of the Southern Alps, the mountain range that ran the length of the South Island of New Zealand. A far cry from the city streets she used to run on.

On this part of the mountain, the shingle was loose under her feet and she had to concentrate to keep herself from falling. The animal track she ran on steepened sharply, winding upward around the side of the hill. Stones clattered downward beneath her shoes, bouncing off rocks as they fell. She had to place each foot carefully with every step she took because the loose stones meant she slid backwards and she had to grab at the tussocks to steady herself. But still, she kept going.

I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!She repeated the mantra in time with her steps, but a little tiny part of her didn’t believe it.

You’re a psycho, Catherine. You should be locked up.Steve’s voice mixed with her own, confusing her.

She pushed herself harder. She had to outrun the voices.

* * *

One hour turned into two. And still Catherine wasn’t back.

Jason was beside himself with worry. He walked for a few minutes in one direction, then the other, but there was no sign of her. Not that he could see very far in the distance with the hills, but still… She wasn’t anywhere close. He called her name, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling as loud as he could, his voice echoing back at him, but she didn’t reply.

He could call for help—Josh had left a walkie-talkie with a direct channel to the station homestead in case they needed anything—but what was he going to say? That two hours ago Catherine had gone for a run and hadn’t yet come back? He knew that by the time they got a search party organised and up here, that she would likely have returned and then he’d feel stupid. Two hours wasn’t an unreasonable length of time for her to go on a run, he reassured himself.

* * *

Around the next corner, the tree slope Catherine was running on gave way beneath her feet. She grabbed frantically for scrub, tussocks, anything—but they were all falling too. They went plummeting down. Down. Down.

Catherine screamed. Stones, dirt, weeds all flew up around her, blinding her. She reached out desperately for a handhold to stop her furious descent, but there was nothing to grab. Everything was sliding along with her.

“Help!” she screamed, but there was nobody to help her.

Her mouth filled up with dust and little stones. Her arm crashed against something hard. A rock, maybe? She couldn’t see—the dust was too thick.

She didn’t know how far she fell but when she opened her eyes, she was at the bottom of a steep ravine and her knee was twisted uncomfortably beneath her. She tried to scramble to her feet, but sharp pain shot up her leg the second she put the slightest bit of weight on it and she slumped back down. The arm she’d banged in the fall throbbed dully.

Sitting up as best she could, Catherine looked around, trying to get her bearings. She was surrounded on all sides by sheer cliff faces—she’d fallen into some kind of a hole. Even if she had full use of her limbs, it would be near impossible for her to climb out. And hurt as she was, with a throbbing arm and a useless leg, it was pointless for her to even try. All she could do was wait. Either for rescue, which would probably be hours away, or for the pain to fade enough for her to figure a way out.

Scooting backwards, using her good leg to propel her along, Catherine propped herself up against a rock, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible. She wasn’t afraid, not yet. She’d never minded her own company, and the sun was quite pleasant. She would just wait.

There was plenty for her to think about. Jason. What he’d done to her last night and what she’d done to him in return, and what they’d done together, exploring each other’s bodies. They still knew each other so well, even after so much time had passed, and their bodies still fit together so perfectly it was like they’d been made for each other. His fingers were magical and his mouth was even more so. The stars shining brightly in the clear sky above them had been nothing compared to the stars Jason had made her see. And afterwards, sitting there in front of the fire, Jason’s arm around her shoulders, Catherine had been truly content.

She’d still been contented at breakfast time. She’d cooked them bacon and eggs and they’d sat together in bed, feeding each other, and nothing else in the whole world mattered. Not this hut. Not her dreams. Not the man calling her mournfully that confused and frightened her. Just her and Jason. Together.

And then he’d gone and ruined it.

She beat her fists on the ground in frustration as hopelessness overwhelmed her. “I’m not crazy!” she threw her head back and screamed, listening as her protest echoed in the small ravine and bounced back to torment her. “I’m not!”

She didn’t know how much time passed; she’d left her watch behind, back at the hut. But she guessed it to be two hours at least—the shadows had lengthened beside her as the sun tracked its way across the sky. Her tummy rumbled hungrily and her throat was dry. She’d worked up a thirst, running so hard, and she had no water with her. And although breakfast had been late, leisurely and substantial, she’d had nothing since and all that exercise had taken it out of her. She’d always liked to eat after a run. Chocolate, usually. Even running marathons hadn’t taken away her sweet tooth, particularly her penchant for chocolate.

Knowing there was nothing to eat or drink and there was nothing she could do about it, Catherine lay back against the rock and shut her eyes. She may as well relax the best she could.

Except she couldn’t relax. Her anger over Jason’s words had dissipated now and instead of fury, she only felt guilt. What must he be thinking, all alone back at the hut, not knowing where she was and whether or not she was hurt? She remembered what he’d told her about Louise, getting killed in New York when she ran away after an argument. And now here she was, doing the same thing.Except I’m not dying,her inner mind pointed out. But that small fact did nothing to comfort her, because she knew Jason would be beside himself with worry.

You can’t run from me, Catherine. Don’t run from me. Ever.

There had been tears in his eyes when he’d said it and Jason never cried. In all the years she’d known him—a lifetime—she’d never known him to cry. But he’d cried as he’d begged her, remembering, and she’d promised him. And now she’d broken that promise.

“I’m sorry, Jason!” she cried. “I’m so sorry.” She closed her eyes and repeated the words silently, hoping that somehow, he would hear her, and he would know.

When she opened them again the sun was high above her, almost blinding her. What was that? Was it…?

She looked closer, raising her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun, trying to get a better view. It was a man! Looking directly at her!

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