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~~Tuesday afternoon, Seacouver~~
Duncan MacLeod walked up the back stairs to his loft above the dojo, reading a note from Anne Lindsey. Seeing her handwriting still caused a tightening in his chest. She sounded happy with her new job in Indianapolis, and Jared, her lover, was busy with the Earth Reborn Foundation. The crayoned picture from Mary brought a smile; like a doting godparent, he attached it to the refrigerator with the pink "M" magnet she had given him before they left.
He re-read Anne's last lines. "I'm so pleased you'll be helping the Camp Wilderness project. It means a lot to us. Fixing up the old church camp in the mountains so inner city kids will have a chance to escape their gang fights and drive-bys is going to a big difference in so many lives."
*How did I let myself be talked into this one?* Duncan thought. Jared had asked him to be the site foreman and oversee the work, but he'd accepted the job out of his affection for Anne--kind of a going away present, showing he could accept her life with Jared. *Maybe it'll snow and I can get out of going.* Although there had been a stint of bad autumn rainstorms recently, the weather reports projected the remainder of the fall would be mild, and he knew that since he'd made the commitment, he'd do the job no matter what.
Duncan confirmed that he would arrive on Friday, his first work crew early Saturday morning. He looked over his temporary identification papers from the Foundation as well as the copies of the insurance forms he'd been required to fill out. He smiled as he looked at his signature promising not to sue if he suffered any injuries...no need to explain that chances of that were highly unlikely. At least, no injury that would last very long.
He verified that he should find a Kelly Carpenter at the camp building, and packed all the papers and forms into a canvas briefcase. He checked to see if he had enough clean clothes to last the ten days he'd be at the project site. The nearest town lay fifteen miles away over winding mountain roads, not convenient for clean underwear. *Better to err on the side of caution,* he thought as he gathered clothes from the hamper and started a load of wash.
***
~~That same afternoon, Wilderness Camp Headquarters~~
"Damn it, Uncle Phil, you know I need to work alone. Why can't you just postpone the work crews for a couple more weeks until I'm gone?" Kelly Carpenter paused to listen to the voice at the other end explain the circumstances. "Have to beat the winter weather," she repeated. I understand, but--" She sighed deeply. "Okay, his name is Duncan MacLeod. He's 'safe--a perfect gentleman.' He'd just better stay out of my way. But fax me his ID so I can be sure the right guy shows up." She hung up the phone, grumbling at the turn of events.
Bad weather had delayed her surveys, and now she would not only have to put up with the Saturday and Sunday volunteer crews, which she could easily avoid, but also with this MacLeod person. He'd oversee the volunteers on the weekends and work by himself during the week. He'd be a little harder to duck. Until the work crews finished repairing and restoring the guest cabins, the main house provided the only place to stay.
She had already commandeered the spare bedroom as her office, with a desk, her computer system, reference books and fax machine. He'd have to stay in the old infirmary. At least it lay at the opposite end of the house from her rooms. Some contact would be unavoidable, but she'd be out in the field most of the time anyway. She went to find sheets, blankets and some clean towels. She hoped this MacLeod fellow had been told to bring his own food. *Safe,* Phil had said--*a perfect gentleman. What is he, a priest, a monk? I haven't met a 'perfect gentleman' since David*--she broke the thought off there. No need to re-open that wound.
Kelly entered the infirmary, a stark room designed to keep campers from wanting to be there unless it was absolutely necessary. A small window high on one wall provided the only relief to the expanse of white. She forced it open to air out the room. Nobody could say she wasn't doing her part to be the gracious host. She dumped the sheets down on one of the cots, and then thought, *What the heck. Might as well go whole hog and make the bed while I'm at it.* She unwrapped a bar of soap and put it on the sink, and hung a clean white towel on the bar next to the tiny stall shower.
Working in the kitchen, she heard the fax machine ring. That's probably MacLeod's ID, she thought as she went to retrieve the document. The ID picture was dark but recognizable. *So that's what Phil meant by 'perfect gentleman.' Anyone this gorgeous has to be gay.* She smiled to herself as some of the anxiety left her gut, and went back to her computer, reviewing the notes she had taken earlier that week.
***
~~Friday afternoon~~
Kelly heard the crunch of tires coming up the winding gravel driveway. That must be Duncan MacLeod. She started to rise, then changed her mind and turned her attention back to her monitor. She didn't need to be waiting on the porch for him. A few moments later, a car door closed. Someone knocked on the front door. She tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach as she got up and headed out to the living area to greet her houseguest. His ID didn't do him justice. He was the epitome of "tall, dark, and handsome."
"I'm looking for Kelly Carpenter. I'm Duncan MacLeod." He held a small duffel bag and wore a long tan coat.
"You found her. Come inside, Mr. MacLeod. I'll show you where you can put your things."
"You can call me Mac." He smiled and extended his hand.
Kelly nodded and said, "Right. If you'll follow me," and she started walking down the hall to the infirmary. She turned and saw MacLeod still standing in the doorway. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he picked up his bag, shook his head, and followed.
"I hope you'll be comfortable in here. Bathroom's through there; there are clean towels." She waited for him to put his bag and coat down and then started back toward the kitchen. She heard his footsteps striding after her.
"I trust they told you you'd be responsible for your own food. I've cleared out this cabinet and there's an empty shelf in the fridge, some room in the freezer, and one compartment in the door you can have."
"I'm sure it will be fine. I have some groceries in the car. I'll just go get them."
"I'll be back in my office if you need anything else." Kelly walked briskly back into her office space, closed the door behind her, and took a calming breath. *That wasn't so bad, was it? You'll manage. Only ten days, and this one is half over already.* She picked up her notes on the native wildlife and began entering data into her computer.
***
As Duncan put away his food, he thought about Kelly's abrupt behavior. He had a job to do, but the time would pass more easily if they could talk to each other. He closed the door to the refrigerator and took stock of his surroundings. The building had a large central room with an open kitchen. A small oak dining table and four chairs sat to one side of the counter. The rest of the space served as a living room, with a green and brown plaid couch and two worn brown overstuffed chairs in front of a fireplace. A coffee table sat in front of the couch, with a narrow sofa table bearing a lamp and a small stack of books behind it. The front door opened to a wide covered porch with two weathered wooden chairs. At the back of the room, French doors overlooked a meadow, and the reflected glint of sunlight indicated a body of water of some sort not too far away.
He went out the glass doors and walked around the outside of the house. On the far end, near his room, a large concrete deck extended. He walked around the deck and tried a side door to the house. It opened, and he found himself in a large commercial kitchen. This must be where the campers' meals had been prepared. Finishing his circuit, he passed by Kelly's room. Green curtains obscured the windows, but he could see her silhouette cast by the light of her computer terminal. She appeared to be hard at work. *Maybe I just caught her at a bad time, interrupted her at a critical point,* he thought.
He walked down the drive to where he had seen the skeletal remains of camp cabins. There were eight of them; most needed new roofs and major repairs to the exterior walls. This would definitely keep work crews busy for the four full days, and he'd have plenty to do during the week in between. He decided that he would be clear the campfire circle tomorrow; it wasn't too overgrown and would give him the satisfaction of completing something. The plans called for a circle fifteen feet in diameter, ringed by logs for seating with a fire pit in the center. The recent storms had felled a good number of trees that could be cut to shorter lengths and dragged to the site.
He found the donated lumber off to the side of the cabins, secured under canvas tarps. Large plastic storage containers held hammers, nails, hand saws, planes and other assorted tools--but he found no power tools. Given that there wasn't any electricity in this part of the compound, he understood why. What he had first envisioned as a project in the Habitat for Humanity vein took on the look of an Amish barn raising.
Duncan stopped at his car and pulled out the briefcase with the Earth Reborn paperwork and went back into the house. He hoped he wouldn't upsetting Kelly too badly by spreading his papers out on the dining table, but he found nowhere else to work. His first work crew would be showing up early the next morning. He had lists of names with job skills and preferences for each; he set about organizing tasks and making the assignments.
He heard the bedroom door open and looked up as Kelly entered the room. He studied her more closely; her baggy sweats made it almost impossible to tell what her body looked like. He figured her age to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. Her close-cropped brown hair looked as if she cut it herself, with more concern for ease and comfort than style. Tessa would have called it a "hair don't." Kelly wore no make-up, no jewelry other than small gold studs in her ears. She reached for some keys on the hook by the front door and went outside. He heard the jeep start up and drive off.
He tried to ignore her personality quirks and started fixing himself something to eat. He finished his meal, washed his dishes, put them away, and still saw no sign of the woman. He picked up his papers from the table and returned them to the briefcase. Deciding that he hadn't been confined to his room, he brought his Grisham novel out to the living room.
Duncan heard the jeep returning, and watched as Kelly came back into the house, rubbing her hands together, her face ruddy from the chill air. "Would you like me to start a fire?" he asked. "It's getting cold."
"If you want one," she said, barely looking in his direction.
"If it's not being too nosy, may I ask what you've been doing?"
"Running a trap line. Part of what I do is determine what lives out here. I set a line of traps about three times a week. I'll check them in the morning. We have to account for any protected or endangered species that inhabit the area."
She seemed willing to talk about her work. Maybe he could get through to her that way. "Doesn't trapping an endangered animal kind of defeat the purpose?"
"These are Sherman live traps. Nothing to hurt the animal; I'll photograph and release anything I catch in the morning."
Well, that gave him more information than he'd gotten from her all day. Interesting work, too. "If you want some help or company, I'd be glad to go along some time."
"Thanks, but I can manage just fine on my own. I've been doing it for almost six months now."
"Okay, but if you change your mind, just let me know," he said.
"I'll probably be out while you're getting ready for your crew tomorrow. I take it you found your supplies?"
"Yes, thanks."
She disappeared into her room for a short while, then came out and started cooking. She answered his attempts at small talk with monosyllabic replies, so Duncan returned to his reading. Kelly ate, cleaned up, and went back to her room. After a few chapters, Duncan followed suit. The camp bed, with its metal springs and thin mattress, wasn't designed for someone his size, but he had endured far worse sleeping conditions. He poured himself a nightcap from the bottle of Scotch he had brought and read one more chapter before turning off the light.
The weekend passed quickly. His crews showed up promptly each morning, eager to work. He had tried to include someone with experience in each unit, but even so, his days were busy. He ministered to banged thumbs, made sure nobody hit anyone else with a two-by-four, and settled disputes about whose turn it was to use a cordless drill. Something about men and cordless drills; nearly half the volunteers had brought their own, but they didn't want to share. Those who lacked the requisite carpentry skills worked at clearing the nature trails that Kelly had marked. He made a mental note to put something out to identify the poison oak. There were a couple of people who would need more than just a little calamine lotion when they got home.
By the time the last volunteers left Sunday evening, all the cabins' exterior walls were repaired and ready for staining, and he had even managed to clear the grounds around the fire pit. If anything, they were ahead of schedule, but he was relieved he'd have a few days to himself before he had to deal with the next crews.
He finished the last of the clean-up in preparation for the next weekend and sank wearily into his narrow cot. After two days of physical labor in the fresh air, he barely noticed the lumpy mattress and squeaky springs. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep before he rose slowly from the depths of a dream about someone working in the kitchen. Someone really was in the kitchen. He looked at his watch. Three-thirty. He slipped into his sweats and walked quietly out to discover the cause of the noise. He found Kelly wiping down the cabinet shelves, their contents removed and lined up on the counter.
"Getting a head start on spring cleaning?"
She turned with a start at the sound of his voice. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I'm not used to having anyone else in the house. When I can't sleep, I just get up and do something."
Duncan noted the red-rimmed eyes, and the dark circles beneath them. "Well, as long as we're both up, shall I make us some tea? A friend of mine swears that there's nothing better than chamomile tea for insomnia."
Kelly lowered her head. "No, thanks," she said softly.
Keeping his tone light, he said, "I trust you won't mind if I fix some for myself?" He filled the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. Reaching for the canister of tea bags, he accidentally brushed against her arm. He heard the soft intake of her breath and felt her body stiffen as she quickly moved away from his touch. The girl was obviously distressed, but Duncan didn't want to press matters. Not yet.
"Won't you at least keep me company while I have my tea? I can even help you move things around if you'll tell me where you'd like them. I can be quite helpful if you'll give me a chance."
When she looked up, Duncan saw the blush rise in her face. The kettle whistled and he made two mugs of tea, setting one on the table near her. He stirred in some honey and went to the refrigerator for milk. "Humor me. You'll like it."
Kelly cupped the mug in her fingers, but didn't drink.
"I think we got a lot done this weekend, don't you?" asked Duncan, hoping to draw Kelly away from whatever haunted her.
She nodded, and took a sip of tea. "Yes. Thanks for all your hard work."
"I'm glad to help; I've been supporting the Foundation for years. It's nice to see that the money's actually going to produce some tangible results. How long have you been involved?"
"I guess about five years now." She looked back into her mug.
Duncan attempted some one-sided small talk about the day's work until they had finished their tea. He stood and took the mugs to the sink, but she didn't get up from the table. "Look, we've only just met, but there seems to be something bothering you. Sometimes talking to a stranger is easier than opening up to someone close to you."
"There's really nothing to talk about." Her voice quavered. Her head bowed, she pushed herself away from the table and nearly ran to her room.
Duncan let her go. He wasn't used to being rebuffed, especially by mortal women, but she obviously wanted to be alone. He vowed to try harder to see if he could help her overcome whatever troubled her so deeply.
***
Kelly sat trembling on the edge of her bed when she got to her room. Her nightmares, those whirlpools of unidentifiable terror, had returned with the anticipation of MacLeod's arrival, and she struggled to act normally in front of him. He seemed to be a nice enough guy; intellectually, she thought she could trust him. But her brain just couldn't convince her gut to relax. She stretched out on her back and did deep breathing exercises to help her calm down. She concentrated on the familiar sounds of leaves rustling in the breeze and insects humming. Maybe the tea would really work and she could get back to sleep.
She engrossed herself in her work for the next few days, and gave MacLeod as wide a berth as possible. She drove the fifteen miles to the general store in town and picked up some more food, the mail, and the package from the Foundation she'd been waiting for. When she got back to the house, she quickly put the groceries away and opened the box. Inside she found the engraved identification signs for many of the trees and shrubs around the property. She picked up a hammer, put the box in the back of the jeep, and drove to the head of the nature trail she had marked. The volunteers had done a good job of clearing it, she noticed.
Kelly positioned the signs, taking some satisfaction in knowing that people would be able to know they looked at. The signs would be even more meaningful in the spring, when the plants displayed their flowers. She had discovered that although most people could identify basic animals, very few knew the names of any of the plants. Kids learned dogs, cats, birds, cows, horses and so on at a very young age. But most of them were hard pressed to go much beyond "tree" "bush," or "flower." Well, maybe this would help. You couldn't really appreciate something if you didn't know what to call it.
***
She came out of her room Tuesday evening to find Duncan busy in the kitchen.
"I'm making pasta, and I think I just put in way too much. Won't you please join me?" he asked. "I make a pretty good marinara sauce."
*Okay, Kelly. You can do this. It's just dinner, and you'll be eating anyway; why not do it together?* "That sounds fine. Thank you." She was pleased to notice that her voice didn't quaver. She paused for a minute, then continued. "Can I help? I can make a salad or set the table."
"The salad's already made. But setting the table would be nice. And you could get me a glass of wine--it's chilling in the fridge--or at least find the corkscrew."
Kelly went to the drawer and got out the corkscrew. When she went to the refrigerator to get the wine, she saw that the salad bowl contained more than enough for two people. He'd planned this whole thing. *Relax. He's "perfectly safe." We're under the same roof; why not share meals?*
She set the table, poured his wine and offered him the glass. "Here."
"Thanks. And feel free to help yourself if you'd like."
She hesitated for a moment, then poured herself a glass and took it to the far side of the table.
"I finished priming the window frames on the first three cabins. I should get the rest done tomorrow. What have you been up to?" he asked.
She took a sip of her wine. "I'm trying to get some decent photos of the things that live here. That way, when the campers show up, we can show them what kind of wildlife to expect. Some of these kids freak out at the sound of an owl. Hard to believe they can sleep through drive-bys. The Foundation also needs records of everything for its fund raising."
"That sounds very interesting. I'd like to see them sometime. Maybe after dinner?"
"Maybe. But they're not really organized yet. That's tomorrow's job. I'm still downloading the latest images from the digital camera."
"I thought I saw you out taking pictures this afternoon. And now," he said as he deftly tossed the drained spaghetti with the sauce, "dinner is served."
As he had promised, the marinara sauce tasted pretty good. Actually, it was excellent, and Kelly found herself eating with more appetite than she'd had in weeks. Before she knew it, they had emptied the wine bottle as well. "That was delicious. Please, let me do the dishes," she said as Duncan began to fill the sink with soapy water.
"I'm going to be very un-gentlemanly and take you up on that offer so I can start a fire. Just be careful; I think the chef's knife is already in the sink. Don't cut yourself."
"You sound like you speak from experience."
"Definitely."
As she stood at the sink, Kelly, relaxed by the wine, considered the evening. Duncan was, she had to admit, a hard worker, and he always had a friendly smile for her when their paths crossed. She had managed to make some small talk during dinner. He had some funny stories to tell and seemed to know a lot about history. So far, he really had been the "perfect gentleman." She vowed to try harder to be civil, at the very least.
***
On Wednesday afternoon, Kelly sat in her office working on her PowerPoint presentation. Duncan was doing whatever he did outside all day, probably working on the cabins, or chopping down trees, or just sitting by the pond. Suddenly the front door burst open with a resounding slam. Startled, she got up to see what caused the noise. From her office doorway, she saw a tall slender man with a scraggly beard brandishing some kind of sword. She blinked. *A sword?*
"Where's MacLeod?" he shouted.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she blurted out, but she knew it didn't sound very convincing. She felt herself trembling, her palms sweating--actually her entire body breaking out in a cold sweat, and she could hear her own breathing start to rasp. *This can't be happening. Not happening. No No No!*
Before she could will her muscles to move, the stranger grabbed her and slapped her across the face. She struggled uselessly in his grip. He pulled one of the dining chairs to the middle of the room and shoved her into it.
"Don't move!" he commanded, holding the point of his sword at her chest.
"Please, please no! Don't hurt me!"
"Shut up!" snapped the man. "I said don't move!"
Using a cord cut from one of the lamps, he tied her securely in place. A blindfold turned everything dark; a nasty smelling cloth covered her mouth. Fighting her gag reflex, Kelly whimpered and retreated within herself to that safe place she had created years ago.
Time ceased to have meaning for Kelly. Eventually, claps of thunder began to force their way through her semi-conscious state, and the brightness of lightning shone through her blindfold. The storm seemed short-lived; the lightning flashes ceased. She heard footsteps on the gravel, then coming up the porch steps. No! Got to get away. She struggled against her bonds to no avail. Her heart pounded so hard her head throbbed. Then everything was black again.
***
Duncan staggered up the porch steps, still shaking off the effects of the Quickening. He had to find Kelly.
"After I finish with you, I'll have some fun with the girl," Crawford had said as they fought. "She's waiting for me, you know." One of Kuyler's students, hell bent on revenge. Duncan had never known of Crawford's existence. He had been more angry than skilled with a sword, and the fight had not lasted long, although Duncan had taken his share of blows. He had dragged the body out of sight into the woods for the time being, and then hurried back toward the house.
He yanked off his torn and bloodied sweatshirt and threw it behind one of the chairs. The front door was ajar. Duncan burst through and saw Kelly bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, her head lolled down on her chest.
For a fleeting moment, he saw Tessa, held captive by Pallin Wolf. *No, this isn't the same. Crawford is dead. Nobody will hurt Kelly. I'm not going away.* He crossed the room in two strides and felt for a pulse. Strong. Good. He carefully removed the gag from her mouth and the bindings from her wrists and ankles, murmuring soothing words of reassurance all the while. "You're fine. It's me, Mac. You're safe. Don't worry."
She remained unresponsive. He carried her to her room and laid her on the bed. Her breathing
was regular. He removed the blindfold and went quickly to his room to remove any remaining traces of blood and put on a clean shirt. He returned moments later with a bowl of cold water and a rag, and began to minister to the swelling on her face; she was still unconscious. He sat by her side, continuing to speak softly. She stirred, and her eyes opened. She immediately stiffened and tried to pull away.
"Shh. Relax. You're okay. It's over."
"Mac! You're ... you're all right?" He heard the confusion and terror in her voice.
"I'm fine. How about you?"
"Some big man. Had a sword. Wanted you."
"He found me, but I sent him away. He's gone now. He won't bother either of us again."
"Oh," she said. "That's good." She looked into his eyes, and he could see that she would rather accept that terse explanation than know what really happened. Then she passed out again.
He made sure her pulse and breathing were still normal; her color looked good, so he didn't think she was going into shock. She moved restlessly at his touch, opened her eyes briefly, then closed them and curled herself into a tight ball. He covered her with a blanket. Sleep was probably the best thing for her. He left the door open so he could hear her if she stirred and started a fire in the fireplace. He found a lamp in the storage closet and replaced the now cordless one on the sofa table. That finished, he poured himself a Glenmorangie and lay down on the couch with his Grisham. Before long, he too fell asleep.
The sounds of screaming from the bedroom awakened him. Shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, he rushed to the bedside and turned on the light. He found Kelly thrashing in her bed, bathed in sweat.
"No! Stop! Off ... get off of me! Dead dead dead." Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow.
"Shh. Wake up, Kelly. It's just a dream. You're fine." He continued to talk softly until she became coherent.
"I woke you again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, her breathing rapid and shallow.
"Nothing to apologize for. I've been there, too. Nightmares can be very real. But it does help to talk about them, no matter how difficult it seems right now."
She took a deep quavering breath, then released it. "I can't."
"I think you should. I promise nothing you say will leave this room. Tonight will be just between the two of us."
"It's not that. I really can't remember. I see bits and pieces, but they're gone when I wake up."
"This afternoon--something bad like that happened to you once before, didn't it?"
"I think so ... I mean, I know something awful happened, but it's buried too deep. Every now and then something triggers the nightmares, but I still don't remember what caused them."
"Let's just go out to the living room. We can sit and talk about anything you want until you feel better." He held out his hand.
Kelly swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring Duncan's outstretched hand. "I'm all right now," she said. She stood up slowly, her knees quivering. Duncan reached out to support her; she waved him away. He followed close behind her to the couch and reached to turn on the lamp.
"No!" she said sharply. Then softly, "Please. No light."
The faint light from the bedroom lamp combined with the moonlight provided shadowy visibility. Kelly watched as Duncan poured two brandies and offered her one. "Drink this. Slowly."
She took a sip and blinked back the tears as the fiery liquid burned her throat.
Duncan took his snifter to the hearth and sat by the dying remains of the fire. "I saw the signs you put out on the nature trail. They reminded me of an old friend. She knew the names of all the flowers and grasses."
Plants were familiar, comfortable. She could talk about plants. "Smart lady. Plants have names, too. Not just animals. People should know them; plants are as important a part of the ecosystem as spotted owls, snail darters and tigers."
"Tell me about yourself," he said. "What did you do before you started working for the Foundation?"
Kelly took a deep breath and spoke. "I used to live in DC; I worked for the government. I was married to a man I loved more than life; we had a beautiful three year old son. One day, I had a report to finish, and I felt like some ice cream. David volunteered to get it; he took Michael, our son, so I could work uninterrupted."
She stopped and took another sip of brandy, trying to prepare for the next part. When she did manage to compose herself, her voice was a whisper. "There was a drunk driver. He killed David and Michael. David was such a kind, gentle man. He was a botanist. And Michael never had a chance to become anything at all. The driver came through the accident without so much as a broken bone; he got six months in jail, with a suspended sentence. I should never have asked David to go. I didn't need the ice cream." She blinked back the tears.
"Nobody should die for ice cream," she said, not even sure she had spoken the words out loud.
She looked at Duncan. "Do you know how hard it is to lose the ones you love so soon, to have to go on living without them?" She saw his expression change, saw the pain cross his face. *He does know,* she thought. *He understands.*
"It wasn't your fault," Duncan said quietly. "It was an accident. You can't blame yourself. Trust me, I know. It hurts, but eventually you can move on."
The words came more easily. "I know. I did manage to put my life back together. I just built a wall around that part of my life. I quit the government job and went back to school. Got a degree in biology, as a matter of fact. One small tribute to David. My uncle's the CEO of the Foundation; he helped me get a job there, and I started feeling things again. I even fell in love with a man.
"He did all the right things: flowers, candy, impulsive picnics. He made me laugh again. He was strong when I needed him to be. I thought I could live with Robert for the rest of my life. What a mistake."
Kelly looked down into her glass, and swirled its contents, staring at the way the amber liquid reflected the tiniest glimmers of light in the room. The fire had gone out, but glints of moonlight remained. She could see Duncan sitting in shadow on the hearth, not moving. She felt numb, her mind separate from her emotions. She heard her words as if someone else spoke them.
"One day Robert came to take me on a picnic. I woke up in the hospital in a lot of pain, with no real memories of what happened. Ever since then, I don't handle being around people very well. The Foundation understands, and that's why I get these nice isolated job assignments."
She stood up and walked to the kitchen for some water, familiar enough with her surroundings to do so in the dark. She drank in long, deep draughts, setting the glass on the counter when she finished.
"The mind buries things we can't handle," she heard Duncan say. "When you're ready, the memories will probably come back."
"You sound like Sidney, my shrink."
"I knew a very good shrink once. I may even have picked up a few things. Do you remember what you were dreaming when you woke up tonight?"
"No."
"You said something about someone being dead. Does that help?"
"No, no. Please no. Don't make me go there." She stopped, and memories began to return, disjointed images at first, turning clearer until that horrendous day flooded through her consciousness.
"It can't be. Oh God, it can't be."
"Kelly!" Duncan crossed to the kitchen and took her hands, pulling her to face him. "What do you remember?"
"All of it. Oh my God, all of it." She squirmed from his grasp, covering her eyes against the visions in her head. The pain. The blood. "Blood everywhere. So much blood."
"Stop!" he said sharply. He held her shoulders. "You're safe. Just talk. Let it out."
He led her to one of the chairs in the living room. As soon as he released her, she got up and began pacing the room, running her hands through her hair. "No, no, no."
"Is there someone I can call? Your doctor? Your uncle? Someone who can help? Kelly! Answer me."
Some part of her heard Duncan calling her, asking her something. She forced herself to comprehend, then to answer. "No. Doctor's away."
"Won't he have a service, someone covering for him, or a way to get a message to him?"
"Speed dial two," she managed to whisper. She felt herself being guided back to the couch.
***
Duncan kept a watchful eye on Kelly as he picked up the cordless phone and punched the buttons. He insisted that the service put him through to the doctor. After four rings, he heard a female voice answer, "This is Sidney Meriwether."
"I'm sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night, Doctor. My name is Duncan MacLeod."
"No need to apologize, Mr. MacLeod. I'm in New York for a symposium, so it's morning here. What seems to be the problem?"
"I'm with Kelly Carpenter. It appears that she has just remembered whatever trauma she's been suppressing. I only met her a couple of days ago, and I'm a bit out of my league. She's quite agitated."
"Tell me what she's said, what she's doing," she said in a calm, professional tone.
Duncan relayed Kelly's behavior. She had resumed pacing, clenching and unclenching her fists, mumbling incoherently.
"Give her the phone; let me see if I can reach her."
Duncan extended the handset to Kelly, tried to put it in her hand, but she didn't seem to recognize it. She continued to pace, now clutching her arms tightly around her chest.
"I'm sorry, but she doesn't seem to be aware of her surroundings. I was lucky to get your number out of her."
"I'll be back in my Seacouver office on Friday; I can talk to her then. If she needs them, Kelly has some sedatives that I prescribed; just watch the dosage. But, the best thing is to keep her talking. Don't sedate her unless it's absolutely necessary. Don't let her retreat again. She needs to remember."
"I'll do what I can. Thank you." He put down the phone and went over Kelly, trying to calm her down. "Dr. Meriwether said for you to talk about it. She'll talk to you on Friday. It's almost Thursday morning already; you don't have too much longer to wait.
"What happened when Robert came to take you to the picnic?" he asked. "Kelly. Come back. Robert. The picnic. What happened? Kelly. Listen to me. Listen to me. The only way out of this is to talk about it."
She shook her head wildly. "I can't. I can't. It hurts too much."
"You can, Kelly. You can. I'll be right here. Take my hand." He took her hand; she didn't pull away this time. He led her back to the couch and placed her hand on top of his. "Trust me. You hold my hand; you can let go any time you need to."
***
Kelly felt the warmth of his large hand beneath hers. Her eyes met his unflinching gaze. He was right; she could do this. She had to do this. She wanted to trust him, to let him help her, but the memories swirled in her head, too terrifying to put into words.
"Start with something you know, with something you've said before. We can go together from there. We were talking about the picnic, remember?"
She took a deep breath and gathered herself. "It was a beautiful day. I thought Robert might even propose. We took a rowboat over to a small island. Two men were at the dock. They grabbed me. I looked at Robert, but he ... he didn't ... he just told them to take me upstairs ... he'd make the call."
"Why did he want you?"
"For money. He kidnapped me and wanted my uncle to get him a million dollars from the Foundation. He never wanted me, never loved me; he just wanted money." She stopped talking, fighting off the memories of Robert's duplicity, the feeling of shame at being used.
"Go on," Duncan urged gently.
"It's too hard. I can't."
"Yes, you can. We're doing this together."
She squeezed down on his hand as hard as she could, as if it would give her the strength to continue. It took all her energy to form the words, to speak them aloud at last. "They took me upstairs. They were crude, and smelly, and rough, and they ... they ..." Her voice grew louder as she spoke; she squeezed again, harder, digging in her nails.
"Shh. Slow down. Take it easy. I understand."
Now that she had started talking, she needed to finish. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and went on. "They'd each had a turn, and were getting ready for a second go-round. There was a glass by the bed; I don't know exactly how, but I broke it and slashed out at whoever was coming at me. I think I cut his carotid or jugular; there was blood everywhere. He collapsed on top of me, and ... and ... ohmygod, ohymygod, I killed him. I killed a man!"
She felt the nausea overwhelm her and bolted for the kitchen. Duncan was there, holding her forehead as she vomited violently into the sink. He wiped her face with a damp towel, gave her some water, and took her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest. Everything that had been inside her forced its way out in big, gulping, gut-wracking sobs. He held her until she finished, stroking her hair and patting her back. His touch gave her comfort; she relaxed into his strength.
Her tears finally spent, she started to turn toward the living room. Duncan didn't release her; he forced her to meet his eyes. Rays of light from the sunrise had begun to illuminate the house. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to be sorry for. You did exactly what you had to do. And, I meant what I said before. Nothing you said tonight will leave this room until you want it to."
She nodded, physically and emotionally drained.
"Your doctor said to remember as much as you could. Is there more?"
"Not much. I remember odds and ends--Uncle Phil showing up, the police, paramedics maybe, but I was unconscious when they took me to the hospital. I had to have surgery; I can't have children. I'm sure that at some level I must have known why, but I could never bring it to the surface.
"They caught Robert and his accomplice, who was his brother. The one I killed was a cousin. Uncle Phil made sure they got thrown in jail for a long, long time. Apparently I wasn't their first victim. I can't believe I fell in love with someone like that. How stupid could I be?"
"You fell in love with the person he allowed you to see, not the person he was."
She stood there, motionless, not sure if she was better off remembering, if she had just traded one pain for another. She lowered her gaze.
"It's just about morning," he continued. "Do you think you'd like to try to get some sleep, or should we just plunge into the day?"
She took a deep, shaky breath and raised her eyes to meet his once again. "I think I'm ready for a new day."
"I'll put on some water for coffee. Or would you prefer tea?"
"Coffee sounds good. But do you mind if I freshen up a bit first? I'm kind of gross."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"No, I'm not sure. But I think I can keep it together long enough for a shower."
"Promise you'll call if you need help."
"I'll try."
***
Duncan busied himself in the kitchen making coffee and toast, but he worked quietly, making sure he could hear any unusual sounds from the bathroom. Kelly was still very fragile. He heard the water run for a few minutes, then stop. "Kelly?" he called out.
"I'm still okay, Mac. I'll be out in a bit."
She returned to the kitchen, towel drying her hair, wearing baggy jeans and a bulky knit sweater. She sat at the table, where Duncan had arranged the coffee and accoutrements, as well as toast, butter, and honey. The two of them ate slowly, Duncan tentatively breaking the silence. "Would you like to walk along the nature trail? You can quiz me on the trees and flowers."
She didn't look up. "Yes. Thanks. I think I'd like that."
As they strolled along the trail, Kelly seemed to find strength among the familiar plants. "This one is called White Mandarin. When it blooms, there will be little white flowers that hang below the leaves." She showed him more of her favorites, her eyes lighting up as she pointed to the meadow. "It will be beautiful out there--like a giant patchwork quilt. There will be Indian paintbrush, bluebells, lupine, columbine, shooting stars--all sorts of wildflowers. You should come back and see it."
"I'd love to."
"Mac--I'm glad you were here." She met his eyes at last. "Thanks for everything."
Duncan smiled. "I'm sure you're going to do just fine. Be patient. These things take time. And Kelly, if you need anything, or just want to talk--please give me a call."
***
~~Three months later.~~
Duncan looked at the email message for the third time. "Can you do me a favor? I need some help Saturday the 28th, Pacifica Hotel, 6 pm to midnight. Call me. Kelly Carpenter."
What kind of help could she want from him? She had been talking to her doctor regularly and was beginning to make some progress during the rest of his time at the camp. After he had finished his work at the Wilderness Camp, they had parted company as friends. He knew she had left the site several weeks after he did, when the snows began.
They had exchanged a few emails at first, but nothing for some time. He hadn't pressed things; there was still that matter of an unexplained swordfight, which Kelly had never mentioned, and Duncan didn't want to pursue. Well, he'd never find out what she wanted if he didn't call; he checked his calendar and it was clear on the night in question, two weeks away.
***
~~February 28th ~~
Duncan arrived in the Pacifica's lobby at five-thirty and called her room from a house phone.
"Thanks for agreeing to come, Mac. I'm getting better, but I don't think I'm ready to solo at one of these fund raisers yet. Uncle Phil's out of town, and I really appreciate that you're here for me. Why don't you come up? You can help me carry my stuff downstairs. I'm in sixteen thirty-eight."
"I'll be right up."
Riding up in the elevator, he again wondered how Kelly would manage being in the spotlight. When he had met her, she could still barely keep from flinching when he brushed against her, and he had seen the effort it took for her to accept the platonic hug and kiss he'd offered when he left the camp. The elevator doors opened on the sixteenth floor; he followed the signs to her room, adjusted the jacket of his tuxedo, and knocked gently on the door.
The door opened and Duncan found himself unable to speak for a moment. The woman standing before him wore a long black gown with just enough décolletage to reveal a discrete hint of cleavage below a strand of pearls, and a not quite so discrete amount of shapely leg peeking out of a bold side slit.
Kelly grinned at him. "Come in. I'll take that goofy look on your face as a compliment. I used to run with the big kids, remember. Just because I choose not to wear the uniform and war paint doesn't mean I'm not good at it." She spun around, then looked at Duncan for approval.
"You're absolutely right. You look terrific. Better than terrific."
"It's part of the job. The Foundation supplies the dress, the session with the hairdresser--although Richard did say that repairing my kitchen scissors haircut was the biggest challenge he'd ever faced."
"It looks great. He did a wonderful job." Years with Tessa, Anne and Amanda had made him no stranger to the art of female beautification. The once straggly hair "don't" had been transformed into a stylish short curled "do," swept away from her face, revealing pearl earrings and high cheekbones touched with blush. Her formerly dull brown hair shone with red-gold highlights. A light touch of shadow and mascara accentuated her blue-gray eyes.
"You clean up pretty good yourself, Mac," she said with a broad grin.
Duncan felt himself begin to blush. "Thanks."
"Well, if you're ready, you can help me carry this stuff down to the ballroom and get it set up before they let the guests in," she said, forcing him back to practical matters. "I'll get my stuff."
"What? Oh, sure. I've got it," said Duncan as he picked up the computer case.
Kelly reappeared wearing a black velvet wrap and carrying a small beaded bag. They walked side by side to the elevator, Kelly obviously getting used to walking in high heels again. "Like riding a bicycle, they say. Hogwash! Promise me you won't let me break an ankle."
"Your wish is my command."
The elevator arrived and they got in. As the door closed, Kelly's expression turned serious. "Thanks. And let me tell you again how much I appreciate what you are doing. I've been spending lots of time talking with Sidney, but talking one on one to a shrink isn't anything at all like facing the crowds. I've been practicing "being somebody else" for the night, but I'm not sure I could pull it off if I didn't know I had someone to come to my rescue."
"You'll do fine. And I'll be by your side until you send me away." The elevator doors opened and they crossed the pre-function area where the tuxedoed wait staff worked to set up the bars. A security guard let them into the ballroom. Kelly took the case from Duncan and set her computer up on the table provided. She switched it on and as they waited for it to boot, Duncan looked around the room.
Typical of so many hotel functions, rounds of eight filled the room, each covered with pale green cloths and yellow napkins. A floral arrangement surrounded by votive candles atop a round mirror sat in the center of each. He noted at least twenty-five numbered tables. At the front of the room, below a large video screen, sat a head table set for ten. More than two hundred people. Quite a test for Kelly's newly recovering social skills.
"Are you at the head table, Kelly?"
"Afraid so. And so are you, by the way. I guess I didn't mention that, did I?"
"No, you didn't."
"That won't be a problem, will it? I seem to recall you have acceptable table manners."
"Thanks." Three months of therapy had made a big difference in Kelly's sense of humor.
"I think there are place cards up there. You can check for our seats while I make sure this thing is set to go."
Duncan found his name placed at the third seat from the end; with Kelly's name next to his, one seat closer to the center of the table. He perused the rest of the names, wondering if perhaps Jared would have come in from Indianapolis for the event, but his name wasn't there, nor did Duncan recognize any of the others. It looked like it would be a long, dull evening.
A bright light in his eyes startled him; he saw that Kelly had begun to run through the first few slides of her presentation.
"Everything seems to be working. We can go out to the bar and start drinking if that will make you feel better."
"Okay. Let's do it."
They walked back into the pre-function hallway and Duncan asked Kelly what she'd like to drink.
"I think I'll stick to club soda for now."
Duncan got her the requested drink and ordered a Scotch for himself. He saw a good number of prominent political and business figures in the crowd. It appeared that the Foundation had a strong support base. Kelly was handling herself well, chatting with VIPs, explaining the project to those who asked. She did seem to be trying to keep her personal space clear, and he did his best to pull her away when people crowded too closely.
The cocktail hour ended at last, the Foundation host announced dinner, and everyone streamed into the ballroom. He noticed that Kelly had switched from club soda to wine, but also that she was sipping it slowly. She moved the food around her plate more than she ate it. *No great loss,* thought Duncan. *Typical banquet food.*
When the server set a bowl of ice cream in front of Kelly for dessert, she waved it away, her eyes glistening. "No," she said abruptly. Then she managed a polite smile and said, "I mean, 'No, thanks. I'm stuffed.'"
Duncan reached over and patted her hand gently. "You're fine."
Dinner finished, the wait staff poured coffee, and after a couple of speeches to which Duncan paid little attention, the host introduced Kelly, and placed the microphone in front of her. She stood briefly, nodded to the room, then sat down again. Duncan looked at her questioningly, but she seemed calm. The lights dimmed and the screen behind her lit up with the pictures of Wilderness Camp. Of course; she had a remote for the computer and didn't have to leave her seat to speak.
She showed the "before" and "after" shots of the camp, including a few of Duncan hard at work. Slides identified the flora and fauna of the area, and progressed to proposed lands for future projects. She spoke confidently and comfortably; she had clearly done this many times and was slipping into a well rehearsed role.
When the lights came back up, and the applause diminished, the host announced that there would be dancing in the adjoining room, as well as ample opportunities to ask questions about the projects and, of course, tables set up with volunteers who would be happy to accept donations. Hotel staffers were already sliding back the airwall, and the sounds of the band playing old ballroom standards began to fill the room.
"We have to make an appearance in there, too, Mac," Kelly whispered before starting down to pack up her computer. "This is the hard part. I'm expected to be charming."
"You are charming."
Kelly handed the computer case to a security guard, giving some sort of instructions for returning it.
In the ballroom, the band played a mix of ballroom, salsa, and even some old fashioned rock and roll, catering to the age mix of the audience. They barely had a chance to enter the room before numerous people approached Kelly, asking questions, commenting on her talk, and asking her to dance. She fielded the questions, directed people to the area of the room where they could make donations and look more closely at photographs of the projects, but she grew even paler, her voice losing much of its confidence.
"I'm sorry," said Duncan, "but the lady has promised this dance to me," and he guided her to the dance floor. The band was playing a slow number, and he held out his arms.
"Thanks, white knight," she said as she slipped into the dance position. "I think my alter ego is deserting me."
"How long before you can make a gracious departure?"
"I'd say I have to be visible for at least another half hour or so. And I'm afraid I won't be able to hide behind you all the time. But if you'll rescue me the way you just did, I think I can get through this. Believe me, knowing you're here is a tremendous help."
The dance finished, and Kelly's color had improved. He gave her a questioning look, and she smiled and moved back to the VIPs. She seemed reasonably comfortable for the time being, and he enjoyed a dance or two with some of the other women at the party. Heading back to the bar, he found Kelly talking to a group of men, most of whom seemed to have been liberally partaking of the free drinks.
"Kelly. There you are. Here's that drink you wanted," he said, intruding himself into the middle of the group, offering her his Scotch.
"Excuse me," said one of the men, "but I was about to take this lovely lady to the dance floor."
"I'm sorry, but I think she was waiting for me," Duncan replied.
"No, I distinctly remember her promising me a dance, and it's time."
"I'll be fine, Mac," Kelly said. "Next one will be yours."
Duncan looked at her; she didn't look fine at all. But he knew she had something to prove to herself, so he nodded and stepped aside. Shortly into the dance, it became obvious that she was having trouble handling the boorish man. His hands reached for her buttocks; he held her far too close and spun her around with no apparent regard to the music. Duncan set down his drink, walked onto the dance floor and tapped the man on the shoulder.
"I think you're bothering the lady. Let me cut in and there won't be a scene," he whispered.
"Wait your turn, pretty boy."
"I said, let me cut in," as he squeezed down hard on the man's shoulder and whispered in his ear. "I'm sure you wouldn't want me to tell Louise how you're behaving, now, would you? Or about Suzette?"
The man released his hold on Kelly and stepped back, forcing a polite smile to his face. "She's all yours, sir."
Duncan slipped his hands around her waist. Kelly was trembling; she seemed barely aware that Duncan had cut in. He supported her as he walked her off the floor. "We're leaving now, protocol or no protocol." He grabbed Kelly's wrap and purse from the table where she had set them down, and guided her swiftly toward the elevator.
Duncan continued to support Kelly as they rode up to her suite on the sixteenth floor. She had withdrawn almost totally into herself again, and she looked as if she might pass out. He found the room key in her purse and unlocked the door, moving her quickly to the couch. "Sit. Put your head down," he directed, forcing her body to comply as she stared blankly at him. He went to the mini-bar, found some brandy and poured it into a glass. "One sip," he said, placing the glass to her lips.
She held the base of the glass, avoiding his hand. She swallowed, then coughed as the liquid burned her throat. Her eyes focused. "What happened? How did I get back here?"
"I think you withdrew into self defense mode when that jerk started pawing you. I got rid of him and brought you back here."
"Mac! That was Gerald Fletcher. He's one of the richest men around, and the Foundation has been buttering him up for ages. Oh my God. I probably blew it; Uncle Phil will kill me."
"Actually, I think you'll find that Mr. Fletcher has been quite generous."
"Why? What did you do to him?"
"Do to him? Nothing. I merely pointed out that he wouldn't want his wife to find out how he was behaving with another woman. I also might have hinted that I'd seen him at a bar with someone who wasn't his wife."
"You didn't!"
"Let's just say that I know his type. I think you're off the hook with Phil."
She grew quiet. "Before the "accident," I would have had that idiot eating out of my hand."
Duncan took her hands. She flinched slightly, but then relaxed and looked at him. "Kelly, you've made great progress. You did just fine in civilized social situations. You can't feel that you failed because some sleaze got through your defenses. You'll keep getting better. Just look how quickly you snapped out of it."
She nodded. "You're right. I feel almost normal again." She handed him the glass of brandy. "And not to change the subject, but can I ask you a personal question?"
"Go ahead." He braced himself for the question about Chapman.
"You're not gay, are you?"
Duncan nearly choked on his brandy. "What did you say?"
"Well, it's just that before they sent you to the camp, the Foundation said you were 'perfectly safe.' Then, when I saw the ID they faxed, I just assumed ... but you're not, are you. I mean, I did see the way you looked at the women tonight and ..."
"No, Kelly, I'm not gay. Is that a problem?"
"Not now. I think I felt better, safer, believing you were when we were at the camp. I guess it just never occurred to me that someone would be "safe" because he was a perfect gentleman. I'm just starting to believe that there is such a thing as a "gentleman."
"There are a few of us left."
"A throwback to the days of chivalry, eh?"
"Something like that."
"Can I have some more of that brandy?"
He poured a second glass and handed it to her.
She lifted her glass. "To chivalry."
"To chivalry."
"Mac?" she said softly.
"Yes?"
"Thanks again for being here tonight. And for being there for me at the camp. You've lost someone, too, haven't you? Does it ever stop hurting? Can you ever eat ice cream again, so to speak?"
He walked toward the window, looking over the lights of the city below. "Yes, I've lost someone, and the hurt never really goes away. It changes, moves deeper inside, but no, it's never really gone. For me, it was the smell of her perfume that triggered the pain." He paused, waiting until he knew his own pain was under control, then turned back to Kelly.
"Now it brings memories, even good memories." Some day you'll enjoy ice cream again. It might taste a little different, but it will bring you pleasure."
"Come sit down. Stay a little while longer, please."
Duncan sat down next to her. She smiled, not moving away when their bodies made contact. He felt her relax into the couch as they sat in the semi-darkness, enjoying the quiet comfort of friendship.
The End
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