A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (31 page)

The familiar ache took up residence in Dakota's heart, as his current concern and future unforgiveness waged war inside.

"And those are just the nights we know about." Gracie's lips flat-lined momentarily. "Well, I just came back to pick up this file. Talk to you later." Without another word, Gracie let herself out the front door.

Dakota let the news sink in. Yeah, it was flattering that Chance was so concerned, but she couldn't let it stand in the way of all she had to do. With each passing day, Chance grew more attached, something she couldn't let continue any longer than necessary. Not to mention the peril her own heart faced.

Her backbone stiffened, and she headed for the stairs. Time to pack up her things and follow through with her plans. Plans, that no matter how difficult, were best for everyone involved.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

D
akota sped down the dirt road to the farmhouse later that morning, her newly-purchased paint sprayer and exterior-grade paint in the truck beside her. Thank goodness B&B Hardware--thanks to Chance--allowed her to put the items on a tab. She pulled up outside the farmhouse and threw the gearshift into park. Daisy bounded from the back of the pickup, obviously as glad to be back on the farm as she was.

A smile flew to Dakota's lips as the sunny day warmed her skin and the slight southerly breeze tossed her hair. A high pressure front had stalled over the area, bringing uncharacteristic warmth to the Texas winter. And though the weatherman had announced the possibility of a major winter storm, nothing about this beautiful day gave any credence to his report.

A few minutes later, Dakota limped to the barn for the extension ladder, Daisy on her heels. A sudden uneasiness deposited chill bumps down Dakota's back and arms. She peered around for signs of someone watching. Nothing. Still uneasy, she rejoined her trek to the barn, hoisted the aluminum ladder over one shoulder, and moved back to the house.

The uneasiness stuck with her throughout the rest of the day. Several times she turned around, half-expecting someone to be standing beneath her as she covered the windows, shutters and trim with plastic to protect them from the paint.

"What time I am afraid, I will trust in you."
Dakota spoke the verse out loud, mainly to hear something besides the sounds her paranoid brain heard with every gust of wind or creak of the old house. The verse did the trick, and familiar peace settled over her like a blanket of bluebonnets in spring.

Careful not to put too much weight on her bum ankle, Dakota descended the ladder one step at a time, always leading with her left foot. Once at the bottom, she read the instructions for the paint sprayer and set up the bucket of paint to accept the plastic tubing from the sprayer. Dakota lightly sprayed a swash of the tan paint against the weathered gray siding of the house. Immediately the house took on a hint of newness, like a woman with a new spring dress.

She climbed the ladder once more to start at the top and work her way down, careful to keep the tubing in the paint bucket. Just a minute after she arrived at the top of the ladder and sprayed the first section, a sporty-looking car pulled around the tree-lined curve of the road leading to the farmhouse.

A burst of fear tensed her legs, as one name drilled through her head. Kane. It was just the sort of car he would drive. Just the sort of image he wanted to project to all his friends and acquaintances who worshipped the ground he walked on, unaware of the monster that lurked within.

As quickly as possible with her sore ankle, she scooted down the ladder, every muscle in her body tensing in preparation for a possible fight.

But as car doors opened, and the people inside climbed out, Dakota relaxed. Andy Tyler and Gracie. A relieved smile spread across her face. "Hi, y'all."

Gracie's eyes held censure, but she didn't speak.

"Hey, Dakota." Andy Tyler took off his suit jacket and tossed it into the back seat. "We have some news for you."

Her throat tightened, and the smile slid off her face. Words wouldn't come.

"Your ex has dropped the charges. No court case."

Dakota's knees attempted to buckle at the news, but she caught herself, hurried toward Andy and Gracie, and hugged them both. "Thank you so much. I needed some good news." How was it possible that Kane had let her off so easy?

Andy grinned, his dimples pronounced and his blond curls whipped about by the wind. "Happy for you. We stopped by Gracie's house first, but when we couldn't find you there, she though you might be out here." He peered down at her foot, still encased in the lovely boot Chance had provided and insisted she wear. "Sure it's a good idea for you to be up on that ladder?" His eyes shifted to the top of the ladder, which rested against the second story of the house.

"I'm fine." Dakota's gaze flitted to Gracie, whose lips were pressed into a pencil-thin line. She still hadn't spoken a word. "Gracie, what do you think of the new house color?"

"Very pretty." Gracie faced Andy. "I know you need to get back into town, Andy, but do we have time for me to talk to Dakota for a quick second?"

"Oh, sure. I'll wait in the car. See you around, Dakota."

Once Andy was back in the car, Gracie turned back to her. "Does Chance know you're out here by yourself?"

"I called him earlier."

"And?"

"And I told him."

Gracie's stiff body language relaxed a bit. "Okay. Just wanted to make sure, even though I do not like the thought of you up on that ladder with no one else here. Especially with your hurt ankle."

"It's okay, Gracie. I'm a big girl."

Her friend didn't look convinced. "Okay, but please promise to be careful."

"I will."

Dakota watched them drive away, then climbed the ladder again, her heart happy and light. Never in a million years had she expected this outcome. She sprayed the next section, the house quickly morphing from tired gray to a warm tan color, a perfect metaphor of the new lease on life Kane's change of heart had provided.

Suddenly a rogue thought almost pushed her from the ladder, and she released the trigger to bring a hand to her cheek. Of course. How had she not figured this out at Andy's first mention? Kane didn't want her prosecuted. He just wanted to know where she was. He had no reason to spend the money on a court case when his objective had already been met.

Heart pounding uncontrollably, Dakota fumbled in her back pocket until her fingers latched onto the verse cards. She yanked them free.
"For God has not given us a spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and a sound mind."
She read the words out loud several times, gaining strength with each repetition.

Fear didn't come from God, which meant it came from the enemy. Instead, God granted power, love, and a sound mind, all things she needed to battle fear and the objects of her fear. She inhaled deeply, willing her fast-paced pulse to slow its stampede.

Finally the panic attack subsided. Determined to finish in spite of her fears, Dakota tackled the upper section of the house and then moved down and sprayed the lower floor. She finished the front of the house and started toward the ground when Chance's pickup sped around the corner, throwing up a cloud of dust and gravel.

The truck came to a screeching halt. Chance killed the engine and flew from the pickup, his face dark and foreboding. Never had she seen him so angry. He strode toward her in long, furious steps, his fists clenched.

Dakota flinched out of habit born at the punishing hands of Kane. Her left shoulder rose in defense, and she turned away to ward off a coming blow.

The movement stopped Chance in his tracks, and the anger immediately dissolved from his face. He stood there several seconds, his eyes soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry, Dakota. I hope you know I'd never hit you." He advanced slowly and held out his right hand. "Please forgive me."

She gave her head a shake. "It's okay. I'm sorry for making you so angry." In an effort to diffuse the tense situation, Dakota motioned toward the house. "What do you think?"

He faced the house, both hands on his hips. "Not sure you want to hear what I think."

How was she supposed to respond to that comment?

"The house looks beautiful, but the thought of you out here by yourself on that rickety old ladder with a bad ankle terrifies me." His weary words accentuated the fatigue on his face. Then in the blink of an eye, he side-stepped to where she stood and took her in his arms.

* * *

Chance breathed a prayer of gratitude as he pulled Dakota close, comforted by simply being able to put an arm around her shoulders and feel her next to him. His fear had exploded in shards that embedded themselves into every part of his body when he'd arrived at Matt and Gracie's to find her not there. He'd broken every speed limit between here and town to make sure she was okay.

A sudden round of deep weariness threatened to pull him under, and he clung to her more tightly.

"Gracie told me."

Her soft voice trickled through him, bringing forth another round of gratitude. He opened his eyes to Dakota's beautiful upturned face. "Told you what?"

"That you've been camping out in your pickup to make sure I'm okay." She placed a hand on his upper arm. "I appreciate your concern, but you don't have to go that far."

Yes, he did. "Someone has to look out for you." His voice had gone all mellow on him. Obviously his lack of sleep over the past week was affecting him in ways he hadn't expected.

"I'm a big girl, Chance. I hereby relieve you of your duties." Dakota wriggled free from his grasp and hobbled toward the front door. She grabbed a paint sprayer as she passed and hauled them up the porch and into the house.

The front door slammed shut. Chance raked a hand across the top of his head and down the back of his neck. How could he explain his feelings of protectiveness to her? Would any of his reasons make sense to her? Cause they sure didn't make sense to him.

Chance marched into the house. He found her at the kitchen sink cleaning the sprayer. "You buy that today?"

"Yep." She didn't look up from her work.

"The house looks great, inside and out."

"Thanks, but when I look at it, I see at least one project in every room, not to mention the one million plus projects outdoors." Her voice held despondency.

Must be her writer's attention to detail, because everywhere he looked he saw perfection, from the crown molding to the floors. He crossed his arms and feet and leaned back against the newly-installed quartz countertop. "How is Matt's suggestion about the Bible verse cards going? You doing okay today?" She'd opened up to him a lot the past couple of days as they'd sat next to a crackling fire at Matt and Gracie's outdoor fireplace, though he still got the impression there was much she kept locked inside.

"Seems to me that you're the one with fears. I'm not spending my nights in the cab of a pickup."

Touché.

"But since you asked, I have moments when I do just fine, followed by overwhelming panic attacks."

He frowned. "About what?"

She continued to scour the various pieces of the paint sprayer. "Well, here's an example. Andy and Gracie came out with good news. Kane's not pressing charges, so the judge dropped the case."

Her voice held an unidentifiable quality. Like she was happy about the news, but still unsure. "That's wonderful news, but you don't look so happy about it."

In a flurry of movement, she cut off the water and tossed the last part down to dry, then faced him. "I was until I realized why Kane dropped the charges. He's not after my incarceration. He's after me. Now he knows where I am. I have to finish this house and sell it so I can move on." Her voice cracked.

Chance latched onto her as she whizzed past, then stood her in front of him, his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay, Dakota. You don't have to run anymore. I'm here. I'll take care of you."

Her gaze drifted from his face to his shirt, practically boring a hole through him as she considered the words. Something had her troubled, but in typical fashion, she wasn't about to clue him in.

"Besides, it's been three years since you've seen Kane. Maybe he's changed. People do that you know. Just look at you and me if you don't believe me."

Her troubled expression remained, her eyes dark and stormy.

Obviously she didn't believe him, and that set off a wave of fear in his own heart. The way she'd flinched earlier and the troubled expression she now wore all bore testimony to past suffering. This Kane guy must be some piece of work.

As the evening wore on, Dakota morphed into a crazed woman, working from one room to the next, completing a host of little projects. In his fatigue, it was all Chance could do to keep up with her. They secured and caulked baseboards, repaired a few places in the floor, hung curtains, cleaned, and touched up paint.

Chance managed to get Dakota to stop for a little food, but she said very little, finished the meal quickly, and set straight back to work. By the time he left at nine o'clock, Dakota had him convinced more than ever that Kane was indeed a threat to watch out for.

Though tired beyond description, Chance decided not to return to Miller's Creek. Instead, he drove down the road a little ways and turned into a pull-out. He stepped from his truck in the darkness, fumbled with the gate latch, then moved the pickup into the pasture, through the wild grass that had sprung up from years of no plowing, planting, or harvesting, and didn't stop until he saw the lights from the farmhouse.