More Than Words Can Say (20 page)

“Okay, then. Here we go.”

Chelsea watched Brandon turn the plane a bit more westerly, then he opened up the throttle. As the Cessna gathered speed, the noise from the engine became a deafening roar. Faster and faster they went until Brandon gently lifted the nose, and the floatplane finally slipped the watery bonds of Lake Evergreen.

As they climbed, Chelsea discovered that with the plane angled upward, there was nothing to see out of the windshield but clouds and sky. So she glanced out her side window as the earth and everything upon it grew progressively smaller. Brandon soon leveled off and then circled Lake Evergreen so that Chelsea could get her first bird’s-eye view of the lake. It was fairly circular and larger than she had imagined. Climbing the plane again, Brandon set a course for their destination.

Once he reached cruising altitude, Brandon throttled back and let the plane level out again. Now Chelsea could see not only the ground from her side window but also the land and sky stretching out before them. With the throttle reduced, the conditions inside the cockpit became a little quieter.

After making another small course correction, Brandon lifted a set of combination headphones and microphone dangling from a dashboard hook, and he told her to put them on. He also donned a pair.

After flipping a switch on the dashboard, he said, “How’s that?”

For the first time since getting into the plane, Chelsea smiled. Not only did the headphones shut out much of the engine noise, she could also hear Brandon much easier.

“Yes!” she answered. “This is better!” As she finally started to relax, she released her grip on the door handle. “So where are we going?” Chelsea asked.

“Toward a lake called Devil’s Pond,” Brandon answered. “Getting there won’t take long.”

As they continued toward their destination, Brandon took the opportunity to explain the dials, gauges, and switches. As he did, he found her to be a quick study. He momentarily thought about showing her how to use the controls, then decided that it might be best left for another time. Soon, Devil’s Pond loomed up ahead.

Brandon pointed at the lake. “There it is,” he said.

Like the time before, he buzzed Claire’s trailer to let her know he had arrived. Just as Claire had promised, Pug’s truck wasn’t in evidence. When Claire started walking toward the lakeshore, Brandon began setting up his landing. With the wind again in his favor, he put the plane into a descent and lined her up for the final approach. Almost before Chelsea knew it, the Cessna’s two floats hit the water once, then again, and the plane finally settled down.

As Brandon taxied toward the dock, he looked at Chelsea and asked, “That wasn’t so bad, right? It seems that we lived, after all!”

Chelsea couldn’t help but smile. “No,” she answered, “not bad at all. In fact, it was kind of fun.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Brandon answered as he cut the motor and they drifted nearer.

Chelsea unfastened her seat belt and removed her headphones. “So who are this woman and child we’ve come to see?” she asked casually.

“Claire Jennings and her daughter, Rachel,” Brandon answered. “Claire’s husband is called Pug.”

Chelsea’s heart skipped a beat.
Pug Jennings?
she thought.
That’s the man who caused the trouble in Beauregard’s! Oh, God . . . Plus, I never told Brandon about it, because I didn’t see any need. . .

As they coasted closer to the dock, Chelsea reached out and touched Brandon on one arm. He immediately recognized the troubled look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Worried about having to fly back home?” Then he laughed a little. “I could ask Claire to drive you back on Pug’s Harley, but I can pretty much guarantee that you’d find the experience even scarier than the plane ride.”

“No, no,” Chelsea answered urgently. “It isn’t that at all. But before we get out of the plane, there’s something you need to know.”

Chelsea quickly explained what had happened at Beauregard’s. As her story evolved, Brandon’s expression darkened.

“Well,” he said, “I certainly wish that you’d told me sooner. But don’t worry—Pug isn’t here. And besides, Claire isn’t like him. But to be on the safe side I’ll make this quick, and then we’ll get going again.”

Just then one of the floats gently bumped the dock, and Claire began securing the plane. Before opening his door, Brandon paused and gazed meaningfully into Chelsea’s eyes. His expression was stern but compassionate.

“I’m sorry about what happened back at Beauregard’s,” he said quietly. “Life up here can be hard, and it sometimes changes folks for the worse. But whenever I’m around, you’ll never have to suffer that kind of trouble again, I promise you.”

Chelsea found herself deeply affected by his words, his strength, his sudden display of intimacy. He had just promised to protect her, and the tug on her heart was the strongest ever.

Wow . . . ,
she found herself thinking.
No other man has ever spoken to me quite like that. . .

Moments later, Brandon and Chelsea were standing on Claire Jennings’s ramshackle dock. Chelsea wondered what kept it from collapsing into the lake. Claire’s hair had been put up in a scrunchie, and she wore an old housecoat and a pair of dingy Keds.

Brandon gestured first toward Claire, then Chelsea. “Claire Jennings . . . Chelsea Enright,” he said. “Chelsea inherited the cottage next to mine. She’s here for the summer.”

Claire smiled and held out one hand. “Pleased to meetcha,” she said.

“And you,” Chelsea answered.

While shaking Claire’s hand, Chelsea felt some rough calluses, doubtless earned from many hours of hard, physical work. By now, Chelsea realized that living in such an isolated spot presented its own set of unique challenges. Her sympathy for Claire’s plight only increased as Claire’s eyes enviously poured over Chelsea’s clothes and makeup.

Life has been hard for this woman,
Chelsea thought.
And I know why . . .

Eager to see Rachel, Brandon cleared his throat. “So how’s the baby?” he asked.

Suddenly jarred free of her reveries, Claire looked back at Brandon and shook her head. “She’s still feverish,” she answered, “and now she’s wheezing a bit. I’m getting scared for her, Brandon.”

Brandon nodded. “Let’s go, then,” he said.

As the three of them neared the trailer, Chelsea scanned the run-down property and became further saddened by what she saw. When she entered the trailer, her overall impression didn’t improve much.

“Is Rachel in her crib?” Brandon asked.

Worriedly gathering her worn robe around her, Claire nodded.

“While I go and check on her, why don’t you keep Chelsea company?” Brandon said to Claire. “If I need you, I’ll holler.”

“Okay,” Claire answered.

As Brandon walked down the lone hallway with his bag, Claire beckoned Chelsea toward the kitchen dinette set, where they sat down.

“Some coffee?” Claire asked her. “Or somethin’ stronger, mebbe?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Chelsea answered.

While Claire rifled through her cupboards, her embarrassment over not being able to produce two matching coffee cups became palpable. But they were clean, Chelsea realized as Claire poured two steaming cupfuls. Claire put the coffeepot back on the burner, then joined Chelsea at the table. An awkward silence reigned for a time as two women from vastly different worlds each searched for something to say.

“So you inherited the place next to Brandon’s,” Claire finally said.

“Yes. At first I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to keep it. But then I came up here, and I was hooked.”

“So where’re you from?” Claire asked.

Chelsea sipped her coffee. “Syracuse,” she answered. “Fayetteville, actually.”

“I’ve heard of Syracuse, o’ course,” Claire answered. “Can’t honestly say the same for Fayetteville.”

Chelsea gave Claire a little smile. “That’s understandable,” she said. “Until recently, I’d never heard of Serendipity.”

Claire produced a rumpled pack of cigarettes from her night coat. “You mind?” she asked.

Chelsea shook her head. Claire expertly lit a cigarette with an old Zippo, then she lifted her chin and gratefully blew some smoke toward the ceiling. Smoking seemed to calm her, Chelsea noticed. But then Claire’s worry over Rachel resurfaced, and she again stared down the hallway.

“Brandon’s a great guy,” she said absently. “Any woman would be happy to have him.”

Chelsea nodded, then took another sip of the strong coffee. “From what little I know of him,” she answered, “I think you’re right.”

As if trying to comfort herself, Claire absently rubbed one arm. “Not long ago,” she said, “one of the local girls nearly hooked him. But it ended badly. It wasn’t his fault, but he still thinks that it was. Has he told you about it?”

Chelsea very much wanted to hear Claire’s story about Brandon. But at the same time, she didn’t want to appear too eager. Before replying she took another sip of coffee, then sat back casually in her chair.

“No,” she said. “He hasn’t. From what I gather, he doesn’t talk about himself much.”

Claire snorted. “Understatement of the century,” she answered. “After what happened, I’m not sure that any woman will ever get that close again. He won’t let ’em, you see.”

Chelsea knew that she’d be pressing her luck to ask more, but her curiosity won out. “Would you mind telling me about it?” she asked innocently.

As she pondered things, Claire took another luxurious drag on her cigarette. She seemed to enjoy it so much that Chelsea began wondering if smoking was Claire’s only form of refuge.

“Well,” she said at last, “I don’t suppose that telling you’d hurt anything. It’s common knowledge, anyway. Ya see, it all started when—”

Just then they heard a horn blow and the telltale sound of tires crunching down upon the driveway gravel. To Chelsea’s horror, she looked out the window to see that Pug had come home. When he exited his battered old truck and saw Brandon’s floatplane, his face turned scarlet with rage. Claire’s hands immediately flew to her face.

“Oh, good Jesus . . . ,” she whispered. “He wasn’t supposed to be back so soon!” Then she started trembling all over. “This is gonna be bad . . . ,” she whispered. “Pug hates Brandon! Even swore to kill him once! The two of them ain’t been face-to-face for nearly three years! God only knows what will happen now!”

Wide-eyed, Claire hurried toward the hallway. “Brandon!” she shouted. “Brandon! Pug’s come back!”

When Brandon appeared he was cradling Rachel with one arm and holding his bag with his free hand. The baby was crying loudly, adding to the thick sense of tension. Pug would be inside in mere moments, Chelsea realized. Knowing that her place was beside Brandon, she rose from her chair and hurriedly joined him.

Just then the weathered front door blew open so violently that its lone window nearly shattered. On the other side of the landing stood Pug. He didn’t seem drunk, but he was clearly enraged. When he saw Brandon holding his daughter he pointed accusingly at him, and his face took on a twisted, hate-filled expression.

“You son of a bitch!” he shouted. “You just can’t stay out of my life, can you?”

He then glared at Claire, causing her to cringe noticeably and to gather her modest housecoat closer, as if it might somehow protect her from her husband’s fury.

“I suppose that
you
asked him to come out here!” he shouted at Claire. “Well, I’ll deal with you later. Now go and get my daughter back!”

Chelsea watched as Claire obeyed Pug without question. It was a sad thing to see, causing Chelsea to wonder how long Claire had been under this terrible man’s thumb. After Brandon handed Rachel over, Claire took her into the kitchen and put her in her high chair.

Pug walked menacingly closer to Brandon and Chelsea. As he neared, Brandon whispered to Chelsea, “Get behind me. Don’t question me, and do it right now.”

While Chelsea did as Brandon ordered, Pug took a few more steps. Then he stopped and smiled wickedly at her. As he did, Chelsea suddenly recalled how much he had repulsed her that morning at the diner. When Pug took yet another step, Brandon held his ground.

“Well, hello there, precious,” Pug said to Chelsea. “Nice to see you again. I guess that you just can’t stay away from me either, huh?”

“Leave her alone, Pug,” Brandon said. “I’ve done all I can here, and we’re going to go. But first, you need to know that Rachel should be admitted to the hospital. She’s got the beginnings of pneumonia, and in a child it can escalate very quickly. She needs antibiotics and professional care, neither of which she’ll get here.”

“Says who?” Pug asked nastily. “You, I suppose? And just why should I listen to you? You’re the medical genius who loses people on the table, right?” He then looked at Chelsea again. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t like to stay, girlie?” he asked. “After the doc leaves, you and me could have some fun.”

Chelsea was scared but also enraged. And although she was trying to control her temper, it was becoming a losing fight. As an idea occurred to her, she stepped to Brandon’s left, looked Pug straight in the eyes, and shook her head. She then lifted one hand up above her shoulder.

“You remember the height requirement, don’t you, Pug?” she asked. “Well, guess what? You still don’t qualify.”

His rage escalating sharply, Pug stepped closer yet. As he did, Chelsea sensed Brandon tense up.

“I’d like to pay you for your time,” Pug said to Brandon. “Seems only right, don’t you think?”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed warily. Not only did Pug have no intention of paying him, he knew, he probably didn’t have the money, anyway.
Stay alert,
he thought.
Something’s about to happen . . .

Pug took one more step, which finally brought him to within striking range. To Brandon, his intent was clear. Brandon dropped his bag to the floor and shook his head.

“Don’t do it, Pug,” he warned. “It won’t go well for you.”

“Bullshit!” Pug shouted. “I never did believe that crap about you being an army ranger! We both know that you ain’t got the stones for it!”