Heart Of Gold (32 page)

The pills.

How could
Carter have forgotten the pills?

On her
last visit home before her mother's death, Carter had gone into the master
bath, looking for something to calm her stomach. Opening the medicine cabinet,
she'd stared in shock at the vials of prescription pills that lined the
shelves, precisely arranged so that the labels faced outward. The names of the
medications were alphabetized. One by one, she'd read the little black print on
the bottles until her back hurt from leaning forward for so long. From codeine
to Valium, they represented efforts to control anxiety and were a testament to
the turmoil her mother struggled with. Instead of relief, however, they
appeared only to have created a rousing chemical dependency.

An image
of her mother in death's cold hands blinded Carter. She saw beautiful skin,
pale and flawless from years spent inside. Those stunning features, unmarred by
time's passage. The long brunette hair, lying against the hospital bed's coarse
white pillow.

She'd
known bitter anger at that moment and, in the hours that followed, the emotion
congealed into hatred for her father. As soon as he had arrived, she had hurled
terrible words at him and he'd taken the onslaught with a silence that had
enraged her further. When she'd stormed off, she'd taken his lack of response
as confirmation of his heartlessness.

She
contrasted his blank face then with the aching pain she'd seen earlier in the
day, and she was struck by the difference. Had he changed in the intervening
years? Or was he only now showing her what he was feeling?

Carter's
eyes drifted to the trail that led down the mountain. She thought of Nick and a
stinging pain lanced through her chest. An image of him as they'd pulled up to
his house the previous day came to mind. It had been just before her father had
come out of the house. Nick had turned to her and smiled, his eyes warm and
contented.

She
realized that she missed him and pushed the feeling aside. What she missed, she
told herself, was an illusion. Nothing more.

With a
light touch, the first drop of rain fell on her hand and, when she looked up,
others hit her cheeks. Getting off the rock, she took a last glance down at the
lake and thought that tragedies were a lot like storms. They blew through
people's lives and sometimes, if they were bad enough, nothing ever looked the
same again.

A gust of
wind pushed at her and she turned away.

But
things grew back, didn't they, she mused. There was always some kind of
healing.

By the
time she got back to camp, the rain had stepped up its tempo and, after
rechecking the tents and tarps, she went into hers and zipped up the flaps.
Outside her shelter, the wind began to rage, and the thin nylon keeping her dry
trembled in the gusts. She took off her wet fleece and lay down on her cot,
feeling tired but restless. There was nothing to do except wait the storm out,
and she was wondering whether she could get some sleep when she heard the first
crack of lightning.

It hit
somewhere close by. She knew because she heard the thunder immediately and
could smell the sting of the hit in the air. The first fingers of fear tickled
her spine.

The bolt
had hit somewhere very close by.

Lightning
flared again, turning the dark green of the tent into neon lime, and another
snap and roll of thunder drowned out the sound of the rain. Great gusts of wind
pushed against the mountain.

Suddenly,
with a mighty crack, she heard a whole tree fall.

It hit
the ground right beside her tent.

Carter
leapt off the cot, shaking from fright at the near miss, and put on her
windbreaker. As soon as she got outside, the hood she'd pulled up was ripped
from her head by the wind. Rain, cold and invasive, trickled down her neck as
she surveyed the damage. A massive pine had been struck by lightning, and the
impact had cracked the trunk in half. The magnificent tree was laying on its
side.

Its
resting place: Papercut Central.

Carter
groaned.

Fighting
her way through the wind, she hoped the newest skeleton hadn't been crushed.
Her next worry was that the tarp, which had insulated the work area from the
elements, could be a real danger. The heavy cloth, with its metal rings, was
flapping around violently. Catching an edge without getting injured took
several tries, but she managed to tie the loose end to the doomed tree. With it
secured, she went searching through the damage.

When she
found the skeleton's container, she was partially relieved. It was dented badly
but not crushed. Unfortunately, the seal had been broken and water was already
beginning to get inside. Reaching between the branches, with rain dripping into
her eyes, she grabbed one of the handles and pulled hard, but the container
didn't move. Trying again, she threw her whole weight into the effort but got
nowhere.

Another
lightning strike brought Carter's head up in alarm. She thought for a moment
about retreating back to her tent but the flimsy shelter offered only dryness,
not any real protection. Anyway, the idea of sitting inside the nylon bubble
while the world raged around her seemed more terrifying than being out in the
storm. At least outside, she could see what was happening.

And she
also had to keep the skeleton from drowning, she thought-with gallows humor.

Heading
over to the mess tent, she rifled through the supplies until she found a
handsaw. Back at the tree, she put the blade against the smooth bark and pumped
her arm until the branch she was working on fell even closer to the earth. She
stretched her back and went to work on another one that was blocking the way.

Carter
was drawing back the blade when the saw slipped and streaked across her left
hand, which she'd been using to leverage her strength. Pulling back with a
curse, she let the tool fall to the ground as she cradled the wound close to
her chest.

It didn't
so much hurt as it burned and, at first, she thought she'd gotten away with a
minor scratch. Then she noticed a dark trail snaking its way into her sleeve
and knew she'd done more serious damage. Abandoning the skeleton project
temporarily, she retrieved the first-aid kit from the mess area and returned to
her tent.

What she
saw in the dim light of her gas lamp made her stomach sink. The cut was deep
and long, running through the valley between her thumb and forefinger.
Tentatively, she wiggled the fingers and was relieved to find there didn't
appear to be any tendon damage. Still, it seemed far more serious than what a
Band-Aid could handle.

Picking
up some bottled water, she leaned out of the tent to clean the wound and then
doused the gaping cut with hydrogen peroxide, swearing as it stung. As soon as
she wrapped her hand, she found a ski mitten to keep the bandages dry and went
back out for the skeleton.

This time
working with the saw was harder. Without a counterforce to pull and push
against, the job was next to impossible, but she persevered until the limb was
severed. She was bending down to try and pull out the container when she heard
a new noise cut through the wind and rain. Busy with her work, she ignored the
sound and continued struggling to free the skeleton from its trap.

When a
hand grabbed her arm from behind, she screamed.

“What
the hell are you doing!” Nick yelled over the din of the storm. As
lightning sliced through the sky, she saw his face was tight with rage.

Carter
was momentarily stunned that he'd come all the way up the mountain in the
lashing rain and wind. And then the hurt and anger returned.

“Let
go of me!” She wrenched her arm free.

“We're
getting off this mountain—now!”

“I'm
not going anywhere with you!” she hollered back.

She
reached down for the container but he grabbed her arm again, his eyes focusing
on the ski mitten. To distract him, she gave him an order. “Can you pull this
out?"

“What?”
he shouted.

She
pointed at the container. “Pull! It needs to go under cover.”

Scowling,
he wrenched the skeleton's case free and gave her a pointed look.

Carter
glowered but started walking. When they got to her tent, she held back the flap
as he stepped in. She hesitated before following him, trying to think of the
fastest way to get him off the mountain. She peered inside and saw a determined
look on his face.

This was
going to be a long argument, she thought.

As soon
as she stepped out of the rain and started zipping up the flap, he began
shouting again.

“Don't
bother closing this thing up! We're not staying!”

“You
mean, you're not staying!” She shrugged off her coat.

“Do
you want to get killed up here?”

“I'm
just fine,” she yelled. “And I sure don't need you to try and take
care of me.”

Her
defiant answer seemed to infuriate him even more. His jaw muscles clenched.
“You know that tree over there? The one lying on the ground? That could
have landed on you!”

“Well,
it didn't. Now leave me the hell alone!”

“You're
coming with me!”

“No,
I'm not!” She didn't care if she was in the path of a tornado.

“Yes,
you are!”

Carter crossed
her arms and stuck out her chin. “What are you going to do, carry me down?
Because that's the only way I'm going anywhere with you.”

Nick
seemed ready to launch another offensive when he suddenly calmed down.

“What
did you do to your hand?” He was looking back and forth between the open
medical box and the ski mitten.

“It's
nothing.” She put her arm behind her back.

“Let
me see it.”

“No.”
Carter took a step away before remembering there was nowhere to go.

Nick
reached forward, clamping a hold on her free arm.

“Stop
manhandling me.” She yanked back hard. His grip was like iron.

“If
there's nothing wrong then show me,” he said darkly.

She
wanted to fight him off but she was beginning to worry about the cut herself.
It had started to throb badly. She also had the sense she was fighting a losing
battle. His face held the kind of determination that had no doubt
crushed any opposition he'd ever faced.

When she
reluctantly removed the glove, she saw that a red spot had come through the
bandage.

Nick's
eyes became grim. “What happened?”

“I
cut it with the saw,” she admitted.

“How
badly?”

“Not
bad.”

“Then
why is it still bleeding?” She didn't have a good answer for that one.
"Let me see it.”

Gingerly,
she removed the bandages. When the wound was exposed, more lightning flooded
the sky. As the flash of light hit his face, she saw real concern mixed in with
his frustration.

“We
need to get you to a doctor.”

“I
don't want your opinion,” she countered, desperate to push him away. His
anger she could handle but his concern threatened to overwhelm her.

“Carter,
let me help you.”

“No
thanks.” She began wrapping the bandages back up. “Knowing my luck
with you, they'd end up amputating the whole damn arm if you're involved. Now,
if you'll just get out of my way, I can start rescuing all of the things
getting soaked out there.”

“You're
behaving like a child.”

“So
maybe you should just teach me a lesson and make me fend for myself. How's that
sound?”

Nick
swore loudly. “Why can't you let me take care of you?”

Eyes
clashing with his, she could barely speak through her clenched teeth.
“There is nothing wrong with protecting yourself from people who hurt you.
Sensible folks would see that as a sign of healthy self-preservation.”

“You've
got all the answers, haven't you?” he said bitterly. “You know just
what everyone is thinking and feeling and all of their motivations.”

“No,
I just know a bastard when I see one.”

Nick
stared at her for a long time and she waited for him to toss some scathing
comment back.

Instead,
he just calmly opened the flap and left without a word. As he zipped her in,
she felt something surprisingly close to contrition.

Which was
nuts.

How dare
he make her feel guilty, she thought, starting to pace in the cramped space. He
was the one who'd hurt her, not the other way around. The man had no right
to make her feel like he was in some way injured.

She went
back and forth a couple more times.

Cursing a
blue streak, she wrenched open the flap, intent on catching up to him on the
trail and telling him how unfair it was for him—

Carter
halted as soon as she stepped outside.

In the
midst of the storm's fury, Nick was in the middle of Papercut Central, hip deep
in the debris, picking up her printer. When he turned and saw her, he showed no
surprise. He marched by without a word and went over to Buddy's tent. He came
out empty-handed and went back to the fallen tree.

Carter's
righteous anger disappeared. His hair was plastered against his skull, he must
have been soaking wet under his thin windbreaker, and yet he just continued
working.

As he
returned to the ruins, she stepped in to help him. Her hand rendered her all
but useless so she acted as a scout, searching out things that needed rescuing,
which he would then remove to safety.

When the
work was done, Carter didn't know how to thank him, wasn't sure what to do
next.

Their
eyes met through the sheets of rain and rushing wind.

When
there was another crack of lightning close by, he grabbed her arm and they
hustled into her tent.

Once they
were inside, she forced herself to look him in the eye and say, “Thank
you.”