Forget Me Not Page 13

  Alana clung to the rough face of the granite and closed her eyes, struggling to separate nightmare and memory and reality.

  The feeling of falling didn’t stop. The boom of water over rock became remembered thunder. Drifting spray became ice-tipped winds and her screams were lightning as memory and nightmare and reality became one.

  Cold.

  God, it was cold, cold all the way to the center of the earth. Jack with anger twisting his face. Jack cursing her, grabbing her, hitting her, and the storm breaking, trees bending and snapping like glass beneath the wind.

  Like her. She wasn’t strong enough. She would break and the pieces would be scattered over the cold rocks.

  Running.

  Scrambling.

  Breath like a knife in her side. Throat on fire with screams and the storm chasing her, catching her, yanking her backward while rocks like fists hit her, bruising her, and she screamed, clawing and fighting.

  But she was swept up, lifted high, helpless, nothing beneath her feet, and she was falling

  screaming

  and Rafe was calling her name.

  You’re safe, wildflower. I’ve come to take you home.

  Distantly Alana realized that she had heard the words before, over and over, Rafe’s voice reaching out to her, peeling away layers of nightmare until only reality remained.

  “You’re safe, wildflower. I’ve come to take you home.”

  Shaking like an aspen in a storm, Alana clung to the rock face. She sensed Rafe behind her, heard his voice, felt the warmth of his body along her back, Rafe standing between her and the drop-off at the end of the rocky ledge.

  “R-Rafe,” Alana said shakily.

  It was the only word she could say.

  “I’m here, wildflower. You’re safe,” he murmured, his words and the tone of his voice soothing her. “You’re safe.”

  Alana let out a breath that was more a sob.

  “Rafe? I’m so s-scared.”

  She couldn’t see the darkness of his eyes or his savage expression so at odds with the reassurance of his voice.

  “I know,” Rafe said. “You had a bad time up along the lakes, even if you don’t remember it. Or,” softly, “did you remember?”

  Alana shook her head.

  “Then why are you frightened?” he coaxed. “Is it because I’m close to you? Are you afraid of me?”

  She shook her head again. “No.”

  Though weak, her voice was positive. It wasn’t Rafe she feared.

  For an instant, Rafe closed his eyes. A strange mixture of emotions crossed his face. Then his eyes opened. Relief eased the tightness of his mouth and brought light to his eyes again.

  “What is it, then?” he asked. “Can you tell me?”

  “Height,” said Alana in a trembling voice. “I’m afraid of heights now and I never was before, not until Jack fell and I guess I fell, too.”

  The words tumbled over each other like water in the cascade. She made a ragged sound.

  “Rafe, I felt so good when I woke up a few minutes ago. All morning I hadn’t thought about Jack or Broken Mountain or the missing days. I hadn’t thought about anything since breakfast but fly-fishing and sunshine and you being so patient and gentle with me.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the morning,” Rafe said, his voice low and husky. “I know that I haven’t enjoyed anything so much in years.”

  “Do you mean that? Even though I ruined your line and scared every fish away?”

  Rafe’s lips brushed against Alana’s shoulder in a caress so light she didn’t feel it.

  “I’ll buy a hundred miles of leader,” he said, “and let you tie knots in every inch of it.”

  Alana let out her breath in a rush, then took another breath. She almost felt brave enough to open her eyes.

  Almost.

  “Don’t make any rash promises,” she said shakily, trying to make a joke even though her voice wouldn’t cooperate. “I’ll hold you to every one of them.”

  “Wildflower,” whispered Rafe, brushing his cheek against her glossy hair, “brave and beautiful. I’d carry away Broken Mountain stone by stone if that would let you come to me again with a smile on your lips.”

  The words were a warmth unfolding in the center of Alana’s icy fear. As fear melted away, some of her strength returned.

  She opened her eyes. The rough granite textures of rock were only inches from her face. On either side of her shoulders, close but not touching her, were Rafe’s arms. His hands were flattened on the rock as he stood behind her, his legs braced, his feet wide apart on the narrow ledge, his body between her and any danger of falling.

  Slowly Alana put one of her hands over his. The warmth of him was almost shocking.

  “But I’m not brave,” she said, her voice tight with anger at herself.

  Rafe’s laughter was as harsh as it was unexpected.

  “Bravery isn’t a square jaw and a thick head,” he said. “Bravery is standing toe-to-toe with fear every minute of every hour, never knowing if you’re going to get through this second, and afraid the next second might be one too many.”

  Alana’s breath stopped. It was as though Rafe were in her mind, reading her thoughts, putting into words what she had only sensed without understanding.

  “And the worst of it is that you’re strong,” Rafe said, “so you survive when others would have broken and gone free, crazy free, but you survive day after day no matter how bad it gets. And it gets very bad, doesn’t it?”

  Alana nodded, unable to speak.

  So Rafe spoke for her, and for himself.

  “Some of those days are endless,” he said, “and the nights . . . the nights are . . . unspeakable.”

  Alana’s grip on Rafe’s hand was so tight that her nails left marks on his skin.

  “How did you know?” she whispered.

  “I’ve been there, Alana. Like you, I’ve served my time in hell.”

  She whispered Rafe’s name as tears slid from her eyelashes down her cheeks, crying for him and for herself.

  His lips brushed her neck very lightly. She wouldn’t have felt it if she hadn’t been so sensitized to him, his emotions, his physical presence, Rafe like a fire burning between her and the freezing blackness that came to her in nightmares.

  Alana bent her head until her lips touched the back of Rafe’s hand. She kissed him gently, not withdrawing even when his hand turned over and cradled her cheek in his palm.

  Slowly Rafe leaned down, unable to resist the lure of Alana’s tears. He murmured her name as his lips touched her eyelashes, catching the silver drops. He expected her to stiffen at the caress, at the knowledge that she was trapped between his strength and the granite face of the mountain.

  She turned her cheek to his lips, leaning lightly against him, her eyes luminous with emotion. He kissed the corner of her mouth, delicately stealing the tears that gathered there, until finally there were no more tears.

  “Are you ready to climb down now?” Rafe asked softly.

  Alana took a ragged breath, then looked beneath Rafe’s arm to the rocks tumbling away to the lake.

  Everything spun for an instant. She closed her eyes and hung on to him, hard.

  Rafe saw the color leave Alana’s face even before he felt her nails digging into his arms and the shaking of her legs against his. Quickly he leaned inward, bracing Alana against the rock with his body so that she wouldn’t fall if her legs gave way.

  “Don’t be afraid,” said Rafe softly, urgently. “I’m not going to hold you or hurt you in any way.”

  There was an instant of stiffness before Alana sighed and nodded her head, unable to speak.

  When Alana accepted his presence, his reassurance, relief came in a wave that for an instant left Rafe almost as weak as she was.

  And with relief came hunger for Alana, the hunger that had haunted Rafe ever since he had come back to find the woman he loved married to another man . . . desire and rage burning Rafe like acid every time he saw a
picture of Alana with Jack, Country’s Perfect Couple, happiness condensed into two smiling faces on millions of album covers.

  Ruthlessly Rafe suppressed both desire and the corrosive memories of rage. He ignored the sweet warmth of Alana’s body pressed along his as he braced her against the cold granite.

  “I’ll support you until you aren’t dizzy,” he said, his voice even, calm. “Tell me when you can stand again.”

  Eyes closed, Alana savored the sound of Rafe’s deep voice, his warmth and reassurance, and his patience. If he didn’t condemn her for being foolish, for being afraid, she wouldn’t condemn herself, either.

  “Alana?” asked Rafe, unable to see her face. Concern made his voice almost harsh.

  “It’s all right,” Alana said.

  And as she spoke, she realized that it really was all right. When she stopped being disgusted with herself, when she stopped being afraid of fear, she was able to react more rationally.

  Rafe’s strength and closeness made Alana feel as she should, protected rather than threatened. She sighed and felt the shaking in her legs diminish.

  “You didn’t frighten me, Rafael. I looked down the mountain, that’s all.”

  He let out his breath with an explosive sigh. “That wasn’t a very bright thing to do, sweetheart.”

  Alana’s mouth formed a smile that was gone as swiftly as it had come.

  “I figured that out real fast,” she said. “Now maybe you can figure out how I’m going to climb off this damned ledge with my eyes closed.”

  “Gracefully, smoothly, and quickly,” murmured Rafe, brushing Alana’s neck with his lips, not caring if she felt the caress, “like you do everything else.”

  “Including tie knots in your leader,” retorted Alana.

  Her voice was almost steady, but her eyes were still tightly closed.

  “Most especially tying knots in my leader,” he answered, laughing softly against her hair. “Ready?”

  “To tie knots? I was born ready for that, obviously. No practice needed. Perfect tangle on the first try.”

  Then Alana took a deep breath.

  “Rafe,” she said softly, “I really don’t want to open my eyes.”

  “How else can you admire the gorgeous tangles you make?”

  “Braille,” she said succinctly.

  “Okay. Braille it is.” Rafe hesitated. “For that to work, I’ll have to be very close to you, Alana. Sometimes I’ll have to take your foot and place it, or hold you, or even lift you.”

  “No”

  Then she spoke quickly, desperately, wanting to be sure Rafe understood how important it was.

  “Don’t lift me, Rafe. Please. That’s my worst nightmare, my body being lifted high and then falling and falling and Jack— Oh, God,” she said, horrified. “Jack. He fell. He fell into the darkness and rocks, and the water was like thunder everywhere and he died and—”

  Alana’s throat closed around screams and her eyes opened dark and wild, dilated with terror and memories that faded in and out like a nightmare.

  Rafe ached to hold her, but he was nearly certain it would trigger the terror he sensed seething beneath her words, waiting to claim her.

  “Hush, wildflower,” Rafe murmured. “I won’t lift you. You’re safe with me.”

  Slowly Alana’s eyes focused on the strong hands braced on either side of her. She made a despairing sound.

  “Rafe, each time I come closer to remembering but never close enough. And each time I’m so afraid. Does it ever end?”

  “It will end,” Rafe said, his voice a curious mixture of reassurance and shared pain. “It will end. And you’ll survive. Like the wildflowers survive ice and darkness, sure of the summer to come”

  His lips brushed her nape

  “You’re strong, Alana. So strong. I know you don’t believe that now, but you are. If you didn’t go under before, you won’t go under now. Believe me. I know. I’ve been there, too. Remember?”

  Alana put her forehead against Rafe’s hand and fought, to control her breathing. After a few minutes, she succeeded.

  Only then did Rafe say quietly, “We’re going to climb down, now. You’ll have to help me, Alana.”

  “H-How?”

  “You’ll have to trust me,” he said simply. “If you don’t, you’ll panic and then I’ll have to knock you out and carry you down. I don’t want to do that, Alana, even though I could do it and never leave a bruise on your body. Your mind, though . . .”

  Alana shuddered, not noticing how intently Rafe was watching her.

  “Being knocked out and carried down the mountain would be your worst nightmare come true, wouldn’t it?” Rafe asked softly.

  The words went through Alana’s mind like a shock wave. Was that her nightmare? Being knocked out and carried?

  Slowly, hardly even realizing it, Alana shook her head.

  “No, that’s not my nightmare. My nightmare is being lifted and then thrown, something throwing me away and then I’m falling, falling forever, ice and darkness and death.”

  Rafe’s voice was calm, but his eyes were burning with the rage that came to him every time he thought of Alana hurt, frightened, screaming his name.

  But none of his emotions showed in his voice.

  “Then you won’t panic if I have to hold you?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “I don’t know,” said Alana starkly. “I guess we’ll just have to find out the hard way, won’t we?”

  “Yes, I guess we will.”

  When Alana felt Rafe move away, felt the cool wind on her back where his warmth had been, she wanted to cry out in protest. For a moment she simply stood, eyes closed, hands pressed against cold stone.

  “About one foot below and slightly to your left is a flat stone,” Rafe said.

  He watched while Alana crouched slightly and felt around with the toe of her walking shoe, trying to find the surface he had described.

  “Another inch down,” he said. “That’s it. Good.”

  Legs braced, arms outstretched but not touching her, Rafe followed Alana’s progress.

  “Now your right foot,” he said. “Straight down, more, just another few inches. There. Feel it?”

  Alana’s answer was a drawn-out sound of relief when she felt the rock take her weight. She thought of opening her eyes again, but she didn’t trust herself not to freeze.

  Rafe described the next step, then the next, his hands always hovering just above Alana without touching her. He talked constantly, encouraging her.

  Slowly Alana backed down the steepest part of the slope.

  “Now, use your left foot,” Rafe said. “This is a tricky one. “There are two rocks close together. You want the one on the left. No, not that one, the—Alana.”

  The rock turned beneath her foot, throwing her off balance. Rafe grabbed her and held her in a hard grip, but only for an instant. Carefully he put her back on her feet.

  Other than a choked cry when the stone first slid out from beneath her foot, Alana had. made no protest, even when Rafe’s hands closed around her arms. Yet she was very pale, and her hands shook noticeably as she searched for support among the tall boulders. Shudders rippled through her body.

  Rafe sensed that Alana had fallen into nightmare again. Gently he turned her until she was facing him. He kept his hands on her shoulders, more to give her contact with the world than to support her.

  “Alana, open your eyes. Look at me, not at the lake or the rocks. Just at me.”

  Slowly Alana’s black eyelashes parted.

  Rafe was only inches from her, his amber eyes narrowed and intent. His mustache was a deep, rich brown shot through with metallic highlights of bronze and gold. The pulse in his neck beat strongly, hinting at the heat and life beneath his tanned skin.

  “It’s daylight, not night,” Rafe said softly. “It’s warm, not icy. Jack is dead. You’re alive and safe with me.”

  Mutely Alana nodded. Then she sighed and leaned against him.

  Rafe wan
ted very much to put his arms around her, to hold her against his body and rock her until both of them felt only the other, knew only the other, comfort replacing fear.

  But, like Alana, Rafe was afraid if he held her, there would be only fear and no comfort at all.

  “I’m sorry you were frightened,” murmured Rafe, smoothing his cheek against her hair.

  “I was—but I wasn’t. Not really.” Alana took another long breath. “I knew after I called your name that you wouldn’t let me fall.”

  And Rafe knew that Alana hadn’t called his name. Not this time.

  If she thought she had, she was still caught between the past and the present, a hostage to fear. Yet she had trusted him not to let her fall.

  That, at least, hadn’t changed.

  After a few moments, Alana straightened and stood on her own.

  “Let’s finish it,” she said, her voice flat.

  “Aren’t you going to close your eyes?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s not as steep here, is it?”

  “No. If you’re going to take a look, though, do it now, when I’m close enough to catch you if you get dizzy.”

  Alana’s mouth relaxed into a tiny smile. “I can’t see through you, Rafe.”

  He turned partially, just enough to give her a brief view of the tumbled slope behind him. As he turned, he watched her face, ready to grab her if vertigo struck again.

  Other than a flattening of her mouth, Alana showed no reaction. Even so, Rafe stayed very close for the first few steps. She glanced at him and tried to smile.

  “I’m all right now,” she said.

  Rafe nodded, but he remained within reach of her. Together they worked their way down the last of the slope. When there was only lake in front of them, they stopped.

  With a sense of triumph, Alana turned and looked back. She shook her head as she realized that the slope, which had seemed so steep and deadly from above, didn’t look like much at all from the bottom.

  “Fear always looks like that from the other side,” Rafe said quietly.

  Alana looked from the mountainside to the man beside her. Rafe’s understanding of what she had been through, and his acceptance of her fear, untied knots deep inside her as surely as he had untied the snarls of fly line she had created. She put her palm against his cheek, savoring his warmth and the masculine texture of his skin.