Montana Wild

MONTANA WILD

RONI HALL

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

MONTANA WILD

Copyright©2016

RONI HALL

Cover Design by Leah Kaye-Suttle

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.  The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-68291-020-7

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

To my husband, Ken.

My one, my only, my everything.

Acknowledgements

My first novel has been a journey and I couldn’t have done it without the endless encouragement and love from my family. Thank you Ken, Genna, and Evan.

Thank you, Debby Gilbert, at Soul Mate Publishing for believing. I can only imagine the hard work involved with editing and publishing, and I appreciate all you do.

Also a special thanks to the Greater Detroit RWA chapter. The members are the most unselfish, giving, and inspiring group I have ever met. Each and every one of the talented writers shares constant encouragement and honest critiquing to help the experienced and novice writer grow and succeed.

As a nurse, I encountered numerous memorable patients but there were a few that forever settled into my heart.
Montana Wild
is fiction, but Jacob, the patient in the story, was real. In the span of a human lifetime, I knew him a very short time, but his spirit had a lasting effect on me. Jacob died decades ago but he stays with me and inspired me to write. In all walks of life, it is so easy to superficially evaluate others, judging them as too old, immature, uncool, or different . . . but underneath it all, there is a story . . . their story. What lies beneath the surface of each of us is amazing and we should all take time to listen. Thank you, Jacob.

Chapter 1

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Jamie cringed at the sharp tone in the caller’s voice. She’d barely plugged the phone back in when it rang.

“Who is this?”

The voice on the other end softened. “It’s me, Kevin. I’ve been worried about you. I’ve been calling for days. Are you okay?”

“Oh, Kevin. Yeah, I’m fine.” She had no more tears, but still her voice faltered. Looking in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the disheveled, pale image staring back. Her normally silky chestnut hair lay in matted knots around her shoulders, and her eyes were bloodshot and empty. Scaring herself, she turned away from the pathetic stranger in the glass.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m okay. It’s just been a little rough lately.”

“I heard about your aunt. I’m sorry.”

Throwing her head back and exhaling deeply, Jamie closed her eyes, reluctant to talk about Aunt Jenny. The wound was too raw. “She was my second mom. Losing both her and Jacob kinda threw me.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, but thanks. I’ve taken some time off work and I’m going to get away for a while.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Don’t know yet. I was about to go online and check out some places.”

“I’ll call you right back.” He abruptly cut her off.

“Oh sure, I’ll be here. Bye.” Hurt by the suddenness to the end of his call, she didn’t expect him to call back. Forcing her body to move, she began to straighten the tiny studio apartment, picking up the remnants of her despair. As she opened the window to freshen the room, the sounds of New York City rushed in, stimulating her senses like only New York could. She loved the city.

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang, and the hint of excitement in Kevin’s voice surprised her. “Hear me out. Have an open mind. Please?”

“About what?” Rinsing the last of her dirty dishes, she shut the water off to hear him better.

“Remember that annual whitewater rafting trip I told you about? The one in Montana? After Uncle Jacob’s death, I thought about canceling, but Aunt Sarah blasted me and made me promise I’d go. Why don’t you come with me? I think you’d love it.”

“I don’t think so.” Taken by surprise, she wiped her hands on a dishtowel, shaking her head unconsciously from side to side.

“Think for a minute before you say no,” he said, the excitement in his voice waning.

“When is it?”

“In two days.”

“Two days! Oh no. There’s no way I can make arrangements by then.” Standing at her third-floor window, the hot breeze was flavored with the familiar stench of summer in the city.

“I booked your flight and your equipment is taken care of. All you need to do is pack your clothes.”

“Whaaat? I can’t go on such short notice!” Pacing the room in disbelief, she tried to run her fingers through her snarly hair.

“You said you’re off work. What else do you have to do?”

She stopped pacing.

“C’mon, Jamie. All those phone conversations we had? You helped me get through a really tough time with Uncle Jacob. Kiss life in the face! What’ve you got to lose?”

“Kiss life in the face?” She laughed. “I like excitement, but I live in New York City. I’ve never been whitewater rafting before.”

“All the more reason!”

He was so right
. Jamie felt her resolve weaken. “Now I know I’m nuts. What do I need to pack?”

After getting a few more details, she hung up the phone, then fell back onto her bed, staring at her cracked ceiling in utter amazement. “Holy crap, I can’t believe I just did that. I’m traveling across the country to spend four days in the wild with a man I’ve never met!”

Chapter 2

As a hospice nurse, Jamie constantly juggled her emotions. Sharing the final departure of a patient from their family proved to be a very intimate, draining event, and she purposely shielded herself from involvement for her own survival. She had succeeded, until one patient, Jacob, had slipped past her safeguards and settled deeply into her heart, making the loss personal. Sitting at his bedside, she had strained her eyes to register the shallow rise and fall of his frail chest as he had struggled to cling to life. She had studied his face, trying to imprint every character line and skin flaw into her memory. It was when he slept that the resemblance to her father tugged at her heart.

The phone rang, and she’d hurried to silence it.

“Hello, Agar residence.”

After a hesitant pause, the caller asked, “Hello, is Sarah there? Who is this?”

“I’m the nurse, Jamie Harcourt. May I help you?”

“This is Kevin Cunningham, Jacob’s nephew. Is Aunt Sarah there?”

And so, separated by two time zones and 2000 miles, her telephone relationship with the charismatic voice had begun. The conversations had started out about Jacob but then drifted to matters of the world and life in general, providing her with a distraction from a rewarding but often sad day at the office. His calls had become more frequent and Jamie had looked forward to them as a highlight of her uneventful days.

Swept up into the sea of travelers at the airport, she focused her attention back to the present as she followed the human current through check-in and security gates. It wasn’t until she was buckled into her seat that she registered the panic present in the far corner of her mind.
What am I doing?
A sickening wave of nausea rose in her throat as clammy beads of sweat trickled down her face.
What the hell am I doing?
G
et up. Get off the plane now. It’s not too late, go!

Dizzy with indecision, she reached for the buckle on her seatbelt as her alternate conscience spoke up.
No, stay. Do I really want to go back to my cramped little studio and spend more time alone?
Her fingers released the grip on her seatbelt and she closed her eyes, deliberately trying to relax the tense wires in every fiber of her body.

Uneasy thoughts lingered after her internal schizophrenic conversation and she tried to leave all doubts behind as the plane ascended. Finding it impossible to concentrate on reading, she tried to distract herself by striking up a conversation with the unlucky soul sitting next to her.

“Have you ever been to Montana?”

“Oh yes, my sister lives there and I try to visit her every few years. How about you?”

“No, I’ve never been. This’s my first time and I’m nervous,” Jamie admitted.

“It’s pretty enough, but it’s rough country. I couldn’t live there. What brings you?”

Well, I finally got enough backbone to break up with my abusive, criminal boyfriend Derrick three months ago, and then my best friend and only ally, Noah, left on tour. I have NO family since my father died an agonizing death from lung cancer ten years ago, resulting in my mother becoming depressed and committing suicide two years later. I was pathetic enough to attach myself to one of my patients and become a helpless spectator as death cruelly consumed him. Only days after his death, my only surviving relative and second mother died, leaving me a 31-year-old orphan. So you see, I’m a loser and terribly lonely. So when this man I’ve never met in person asked me to join him on an intriguing escape across the country, I accepted.

That was the whole enchilada she wanted to spew out to the sweet, unsuspecting gray-haired matron in seat 21A. Instead she answered succinctly, “Just visiting a friend.”

Perfect timing. The flight attendant approached with her drink cart.

“I’ll have a Bloody Mary, please.” Hoping it would calm her jitters, Jamie downed the zesty drink in three swallows as she ignored the disapproving look from her seatmate and focused her attention on the changing scenery outside her window.

Her eyes welled as she remembered the awful phone call informing her in a cold voice that Aunt Jenny had suffered a sudden stroke and was not expected to survive. Jacob’s time was also near and knowing she had to leave town immediately, she’d visited him and told him of her dilemma. The vivid memory of their last conversation haunted her.

“Go to your aunt. You’ve been wonderful to Sarah and me. Thank you for all you’ve done. I’ve come to love you like the daughter I never had, but you can do no more for me now.” Pausing as if to summon his strength, he had continued. “Go to her. Your presence will bring her peace. I have only one request of you, Jamie.”

“Anything, Jacob. Anything, name it,” she’d said, trying hard to swallow her sobs, soggy hankie in hand.

“Promise me you won’t waste it. Promise me you won’t throw it away. Recognize it, cherish it. Promise?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Don’t waste what?”

Jacob had looked her square in the eyes, smiled, and then lowered his lids. He’d looked so peaceful, she didn’t have the heart to ask again. Kissing him on his porcelain forehead, her tears had spilled onto his cheeks. She’d lingered, savoring the touch of his cool skin against her lips, inhaling his fresh-scrubbed scent one last time. “Good-bye, Jacob. I love you.”

Closing the apartment door, the finality of his impending death had hit her like a punch to the gut, and she doubled over. Panting for air, she had hurried down the hall out of earshot and released her sobs against the stark cold wall. Emotionally spent and exhausted, she’d summoned what little strength remained and started for the train station, transporting herself to another world of sorrow and sadness.

Returning to the present, the absurdity of her impulsive trip began to sink in. When she’d taken leave from work, this certainly wasn’t the getaway she had imagined, but it was too late to question her decision now.

Besides, she needed to leave town. Even though Derrick’s encounters had been less frequent recently, she always felt like she had to look over her shoulder. She wasn’t afraid, but she was pissed. Her simmering anger was directed only at herself, at her own stupidity for allowing herself to be swallowed up by one person. Never, never again, she vowed to herself.

Leaning her seat back, she tried to relax and finally dozed off, not realizing the depth of her exhaustion. She slept so deeply that when she woke she looked around to see if anyone was looking at her strangely.
I hope I didn’t snore or drool.
It took her a minute to gather her bearings. Once she did, she curled her slender fingers around the smooth armrests, straightened her posture and braced herself for the unknown.