A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (17 page)

He scanned the overgrown and forested area, taking pleasure in this perfect hideaway. A slow smile curled his lips. Knowing Amy would soon be his made the years of waiting well-worth the wait.

Chapter Fifteen

S
omething wet and floppy hit Dakota in the face, eliciting a sleepy groan. Was she dreaming? She rolled over in bed and squinted at the clock. 6:30 a.m.? Ugh. Thanks to her late writing night trying to catch up from all the time she'd spent with Chance, she'd managed to snatch a whole two hours of sleep. Two hours!

The wet, soggy something hit her again. Groggily she moved to swat it away, her hand now covered with a translucent and slimy, glue-like substance. Eeewww! Shuddering, Dakota sprung to a sitting position and used the bed sheet to wipe dog slobber from her face and hands.

The guilty culprit sat obediently at the side of the bed--looking at her in eager expectation--a doggy grin plastered across her black snoot.

"You are in so much trouble, you stupid dog." At least, she would be as soon as the room stopped spinning. Dakota collapsed back onto the bed.

The headache exploding inside her skull coursed down to her toenails, which then picked up the pulsing throb, her whole body in mutiny. She closed her eyes as her muscles relaxed against the soft mattress Chance had picked up and set up over the weekend. Sleep. Just a few more minutes of...

...whining dog. Daisy was back on all fours, her long pink drippy tongue coming perilously close. She whined. She whimpered. She danced. She pranced, her toenails clicking out a staccato rhythm against the wood floors like a vaudeville tap-dancer.

Dakota yawned, willing her body to wake up. Whining dog at six-thirty a.m. meant only one thing--a dog who needed to go to the bathroom. And Daisy had already proved she wasn't afraid to do her business indoors if warnings went unheeded.

"Oh, all right." Dakota threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, searching with her toes to find the warmth of her slippers. Squish! She looked down with a grimace, her right house shoe shredded and soggy. "Dai-syyyy." The low guttural growl she released hit its target.

At least Daisy had the brains to know she was in trouble. She sat and laid her ears back, her big brown eyes avoiding Dakota's grumpy glare. But in the next second, she was back on her feet as if to say, "I really have to go."

Dakota did a rapid tiptoe to the closet across ice-cold floors, stuck the front of her feet in her tennies, and shrugged on her housecoat. "All right, all right, I'm coming."

But once outside, Daisy acted as though nothing were wrong. Not only did she not go to the bathroom, but she sat down and peered out toward the creek as though enjoying the morning breeze and fresh air. A cold breeze blasted beneath Dakota's bathrobe setting off her own dance. "You lied to me, you dumb dog."

Now her head felt as though someone had taken an ice-pick to her skull. Coffee. That would help. She lugged Daisy back inside, nabbed the coffee can from the makeshift shelf in the dining room, and gave it a shake.

"No. Please, no." With quick fingers she pried off the plastic lid. Empty. Chance had used up in two days what would've lasted her another week. She raised shaky fingers to her throbbing temples. Well, she'd just have to get ready and run errands this morning. That way she could nab a cup of coffee at B&B, pick up the joint compound and tape she needed to finish up some drywall work in the kitchen, and stop by the grocery store for coffee and headache medicine. And while she was at it, she'd grab some groceries for her and Chance to let him know she could cook. The thought momentarily froze her in her tracks as she climbed the stairs. Wait, no. This couldn't be happening.

A full-blown battle ensued inside her achy head as she made her way down the upstairs' hallway. How had she allowed herself back into this position of falling for him again? True, she and Chance had done so well together over the past few days. They'd laughed and actually had fun. Whether working on the house or playing in the mud, it was as though their relationship had turned the corner to a brighter horizon. Into a beautiful spring day. With birds singing and the fragrance of flowers wafting on the breeze. And Disney princesses swirling about.

"Just stop it right now, Dakota!" She growled the words into the bathroom mirror, much the same as she'd growled at Daisy earlier. Beside her, the dog sagged to the floor, groaning like a bored teenager, as though to protest that she hadn't done anything wrong.

"I'm talking to myself, not you." The words groused out of her mouth, and her thoughts returned to the situation with Chance. Good grief. What was worse--fighting with him constantly over his judgmental attitudes, or this new and improved Chance, who treated her better than she'd ever been treated her entire life?

Dakota piled her disobedient red curls on top of her head, and quickly secured them with a scrunchee. Her recent time with Chance had been full of lively chatter and laughter, like two old friends trying to catch up after years apart. Every problem uncovered in the demo of the house had been solved equitably and mutually. He'd even picked her up for small group and worship on Sunday, by her side the entire time.

Even with her head bonging, she planted her forehead into her palm with a disgruntled grunt. What was she doing? This was getting her nowhere, and fast. Not to mention that it broke a very important vow she'd made to herself the day she left Kane's clutches for good. Never. Again. Nope. Nada. End of discussion.

She moved to the bedroom and changed clothes. A few minutes later, with her newfound snippet of questionable determination in tow, she grabbed her small back pack from the sofa, her grocery list from the table, and headed out the door, making sure it closed well behind her so Daisy wouldn't escape.

Dakota hadn't been on the road long when her traitorous thoughts shifted back to Chance. She immediately rebuked herself and continued all the way to Miller's Creek, speaking out loud, hoping that actually hearing the word 'no' would get through her pounding, thick skull. "This just won't work. You've got to keep your wits about you before you do something really stupid." Really stupid, like telling him the truth.

The thought slammed into the inside of her head with hurricane force, unleashing fears and doubts and old hurts. She entered the outskirts of town, her shoulders sagging. There was no use in even having an ounce of hope for her and Chance. Even if they were to continue with the same sort of camaraderie throughout the renovation, once he knew the complete truth there would be no forgiveness or effort to get past the hurt, grudges, and bitterness.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away with years of practice and parked the truck in front of B&B Hardware/Convenience Store. A musty odor reached her nose, and the old wooden floors creaked as she entered the door, the bell overhead announcing her entrance.

First things first. She headed straight for the group of men crowded around the coffee pot near the counter. In unison they shuffled off to one side to let her pass, then shuffled back into position as she carried the steaming hot liquid to the counter.

"You Levi's granddaughter?" The elderly man behind the counter held a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek, which leaked what appeared to be beetle juice onto his teeth.

She tried not to stare at the man's mouth, especially since her stomach had decided to join forces with her head. "Yeah."

"So you're the one Chance is always griping about?" He grinned over at his men friends, revealing more bug juice. "I bet with that red hair of yours you can hold your own."

Now the smell from his mouth toyed with her pounding head and nauseous stomach. Part of her wanted to blast him through the plate glass window with a piece of her pounding mind, but the other part needed food. Why hadn't she at least thought to grab a granola bar on the way out of the house? "I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling well. Is there a place I could sit? Maybe a cracker or cookie or something?"

The men all jumped to action at once. One procured a folding chair from a table behind the counter, another grabbed a sleeve of crackers from the shelf, and a third whipped out his cell phone.

Cell phone? Why on earth did he need his cell phone?

He rapidly punched buttons, proof that this guy was a closet gamer. "Hello. Can I speak to Chance? It's an emergency."

She tried to shake her head, but the room began to spin.

Another man she didn't know--this one with a pot belly that would put any State Fair champion pig to shame--handed her a wet cloth, his ample belly bookended on either side with neon orange suspenders that teased her rumbling tummy. "You're lookin' mighty pale there, young lady." He trumpeted the words like the people five counties over needed to hear.

Okay, had he spoken in a normal voice, she would've made it just fine. Instead the effect was the same as using a gigantic gong to pound her over the head.

Meanwhile Mr. Cell Phone Guy continued to reveal his diagnostic prowess. "Yeah, Chance. That Dakota lady you've been telling us about?"

Oh, Chance was gonna pay big time for his little gossip sessions with the guys from Hee-Haw.

"Yeah, well, she's sittin' in the store lookin' three sheets to the wind."

Drunk? He thought she was drunk? She opened her mouth to protest, but one of the other guys popped open a can of ginger ale and stuck it in front of her face.

"Yeah, we won't let 'er leave 'til you git here." He pocketed the phone and stared at her.

Come to think of it, all of them were staring. And quiet. "I'm feeling better. Thank you, gentlemen. Now if you'll let me pick up some joint compound and tape and pay for my things, I'll be out of your hair." Not that they had much.

"Sorry, little lady," bellowed the big guy, his thumbs hooked beneath the neon strips of orange, "but we can't let you go anywhere in your condition."

Her jaw slackened. In her condition? They really
did
think she was drunk. She groaned. Man, this would be all over the county before she had a chance to even spit on the sidewalk.

Big man opened his equally big mouth again. This time Dakota prepared herself for the blast. "Your grandpa and J.C. were my two best buddies, and I think it's mighty nice what y'all are doin' to fix up the farm and house. I'd like to bring you a present, something to express my appreciation."

Well, she couldn't exactly refuse when he put it that way. Images of the stereotypical country doctor handed a freshly-plucked chicken for his services skittered into her thoughts. She somehow managed to make her lips behave.

The bell above the door clanged out an arrival. Dakota glanced up to see Chance striding toward her, his face awash with concern. He knelt in front of her, one hand going to her forehead, the other to her wrist. "You okay?"

"I'm not drunk, if that's what you mean." She whispered the words between pinched lips.

He peered up at the guys encircling them and nodded, a knowing look on his face that screamed 'she's-drunk-as-a-skunk.'

"Why you, dirty devil!" All of Miller's Creek would be talking, their tongues wagging faster than Daisy's tail first thing in the morning. She planted the toe of her boot in his thigh.

Immediately his hands left her and landed on his newly-acquired injury. "Ouch!"

"That's what you get for making them think something that is absolutely not true."

Now Chance rested back on his heels, a bemused smirk at play on his face. "Cured."

"What?"

"I pronounce you cured of whatever ailed you." Almost as if he suspected she was play-acting the whole time.

The elderly codgers fencing them in snickered and giggled, whispering to each other behind wrinkled and calloused hands.

She tried to focus all the pain in her head into a laser beam to shoot out her eyes for the purpose of obliterating Chance Johnson from the face of the planet, but over her left shoulder she heard the comments of two men.

"Boy, he's got it bad, don't he?"

"Yep, he's a goner."

A plan clicked in her brain, bringing a sense of mischievous delight. Dakota leaned forward, lips pooched out, and patted Chance on the head. "Sugar booger, thank you for coming after me, and I'm so sorry for giving you an owie on your leg." She used her syrup-iest baby voice on the last four words for added emphasis.

The snickers turned to barely-controlled bursts of laughter and snorts.

"Huh?" Chance's jaw gaped open, eyes horrified and his face flushed.

"Do you forgive me, honey bunny?"

There was no stopping the laughter now, no holding back the old codgers' guffaws. They held their sides, their faces purple, moisture seeping from their eyes, all while Chance scowled.

Dakota stood, moved around him to the hardware aisle, procured her joint compound and tape, snagged a package of powdered-sugar donuts on her way back to the counter, and sat it all down with a thump.

The laughter had abated somewhat, now interspersed with gasps and 'whew-ee's.' Bug Juice Man rang up the items with an unabashed grin, the evidence of his vice all over his teeth. "That'll be twelve-fifteen."

She collected her items and used her head to gesture over her left shoulder toward Chance. "Put it on his bill."