Chapter 7
On her second day at the cabin, dressed in a down-filled snowsuit and snow boots, Kymbria stood on the edge of the bank above the lake and welcomed the sunrise, as her ancestors had done for generations. The golden orb inched up through brilliant magenta, dark violet and orange, and she murmured as much as she could recall of one of the Old Prayers that Keoman's father, Adam, had taught her. The Old Prayer that began each first day of the rest of one's life. Each day that would - hopefully - now offer true healing in her life.
Northwood sunrises and sunsets were unique times for her people. Though their beauty rivaled the infrequent Aurora Borealis, they were also one of the many bridges to the nature they honored and the spirit world they respected. After the gold winter sun fully broke the horizon, Kymbria finished her prayer and strode back to the cabin to retrieve Scarlet, then stopped at the garage/storage shed for her snowshoes.
"Let's go, sweetie," she said a moment later, snowshoes in place. "We're here to let the spirit world heal us, and we won't find that inside four walls or on the traveled roadways."
She took several preliminary steps to test her balance on the snowshoes, webbed circles she had actually made herself one year in summer camp.
Summer camp. Another memory I'll have to take out and brush off at some point...
Satisfied she recalled the right walking tempo to maintain her balance, she headed up the road in the opposite direction of the previous day's walks. New snow stretched ahead of her, not deep enough to hamper the setter's shorter legs, since at different points in time it had been plowed. Now, though, the flawlessness was unbroken by vehicle tire treads and, surprisingly, unmarred by any animal tracks like she had seen in the other direction. Weird, she acknowledged. She'd seen no sign of any other inhabitants on this side of the lake, so the animals shouldn't fear roaming close to the winterized cabins. Perhaps her wood smoke had given them pause and they'd return soon.
At first, Scarlet raced ahead, enjoying her own exercise, a flash of silky red fur in the pristine whiteness beneath black hardwood and gray-white birch tree trunks. They passed the next cabin up the lake, dark and lonely despite the picturesque, wavering drifts piled here and there. Kymbria knew the neighbor, and he also contracted with Len. The maintenance man wouldn't bother preparing the neighbor's cabin unless notified he was going to use it, so the untended driveway and walkway were explainable here. It didn't account for why he hadn't shown up at her cabin or answered her messages.
Moments later, Scarlet returned to Kymbria and trotted silently at her side.
"You can go on, sweetie," Kymbria urged, swinging a hand wide to indicate the woods around them as she left the snow-covered roadway and headed into the forest. "I'm right behind you."
Scarlet ignored her, ears on alert and her gaze ahead of them as she struggled through the deeper snow. Kymbria slowed her steps, then stopped. The setter stayed right beside her.
This wasn't like her dog. Scarlet pranced eagerly whenever she even heard the word walk. At times, Kymbria had to sternly order her to stand so she could get the leash snapped, if they were exercising in an inhabited area.
"Shit," she whispered. She'd come here to heal herself, not worsen her emotional problems. It was safe here, even with the isolation. Yet she couldn't ignore the two decades of training she'd had prior to deployment to erupting hotspots.
Maintain vigilance. Stay alert and focus on the essentials. Don't take anything at face value.
She'd asked the spirits this morning to take away this stress, this constant on-edge feeling. She'd been so sure that things were calming. Then....
...that feeling yesterday evening, the whispers....
The lack of animal sign during their walks....
Don't take anything at face value....
That rage that had surfaced last night....almost as though something triggered it.
"Well, maybe you're right." Kymbria laid a hand on Scarlet's head. "Maybe we should just go slow and listen to the silence."
Before she could take the next step, a low mutter of a growl rumbled in Scarlet's throat. Kymbria frowned, for a second wishing she'd at least grabbed one of the pistols from the gun cabinet. Then she chastised herself. This was the Northwood that she had come to for healing. Scarlet would get used to the wildlife as they took more long walks together.
The shadow that stepped out of the distant trees moved on two legs, not four. However, it was too far away to make out much more than that it was definitely tall and covered in the same shade of brown from head to toe. Had it not been December, Kymbria would have taken it for a bear, although brown bears were extremely scarce in this part of the Northwood. And bears were in hibernation.
She thought, anyway.
The figure shambled toward them. No bear. It would have dropped back to four legs. Probably wouldn't have approached her, either, especially with the dog at her side. Bears steered clear of humans, unless they were surprised without an expedient escape route...or sows with cubs in the spring.
Still, she didn't know who was out there, and it might behoove her to retreat. Too many years of dealing with danger and conflict had weakened her trust in her fellow man.
But was this feeling a true safety measure, or was she once again allowing her unstable emotions to take control?
Should she go back on her meds?
Don't take anything at face value.
She turned to head back to the roadway. "You're right, Scarlet. We'll go on back to the cabin. If that person wants to stop by, we can - "
She inadvertently brushed against a huge pine, and a heavy shelf of snow slid off the limb and landed on her boot and snowshoe. The unexpected weight staggered her, and she lost the tempo of her stride and stumbled. Luckily, her physical training allowed her to regain her balance immediately, and she strode onward.
The faint call that flashed past her ears could have been a shout from the distant figure, but it reminded her far too much of the indistinguishable words last night in the cabin. The words that accompanied Scarlet's fear. Words she had a hard time admitting she'd heard, since they might be a symptom of her PTSD.
"Kymbria! Hey, don't run off!"
Kymbria halted and glanced over her shoulder. The figure was closer, and it appeared he was on skis. The cross-county glide could explain what she had taken as that lumbering gait. Still, just because the person knew her name didn't mean it was someone she wanted to see. Besides, it was a male voice, not one she recognized, although his shouting from a distance could account for that.
"Kymbria!"
She bent and unsnapped her snowshoes. She could leave them here if she had to, come back for them later. Or use them for a weapon. He could move much faster than her on his skis, but she was near the road now. The going would be easier to the cabin. Plus if flight didn't work, she had her own arsenal of self-defense maneuvers the Army had taught her and which she practiced diligently, given the places to which they deployed her.
When she stood back up, the figure had halted in the distance, as though aware of her uneasiness. The man removed his heavy cap from his head, and his inky hair shone in the early morning sunlight.
"Keoman?" she whispered.
"Hey, it's me, Keoman," he confirmed. "Wait up!"
Elated, Kymbria ignored his words and stepped off the snowshoes into the drifts. Her legs, clad in polyethylene with a down lining, didn't feel the cold as she surged forward. She met him halfway between the distance that had separated them and flung herself into his arms before she remembered Scarlet's growls a moment ago.
"Oh." She pulled back, glancing around for the setter. Scarlet sat right behind her, head cocked to one side, not a hint of distrust for Kymbria's companion on her face.
"She won't attack me," Keoman confirmed. "You remember how it is with animals and me."
Instead of carrying on the conversation, Kymbria curled her arms around his neck and buried her face beneath his chin, breathing in his scent, allowing herself to enjoy a man's embrace for the first time in too many months. Keoman appeared to sense what she needed - he always had - and held her tight until she was ready to break the embrace and step back.
"How did you know I was here?" she asked.
"The moccasin telegraph," he said with a grin, the same grin she'd teased him about when they were in their teens, assuring him it was too sexy for his hard-planed face. His dark eyes sparkled with what she took as pleasure in seeing her. "Amber called me last night. You're here a couple days early."
"Uh huh. And Mom's not a bit happy that I left her and Risa behind."
Keoman chuckled. "You better expect a visit from her as soon as she can get here. How's that beautiful daughter of yours?"
"The most gorgeous, smartest, wonderful baby ever born on this earth. I've got pictures back at the cabin."
"Of course you do." Keoman's grin faded as he asked her, "And how are you accepting her now?"
She would never let anyone else besides Keoman, or perhaps Niona, question her feelings about Risa. But Keoman asked for reasons that pertained as much to their deep friendship and coming healing ceremonies as they were intrusive.
"I can honestly say," she replied fervently, "that the first time she looked at me and recognized me, she crawled so deep into my heart, I'll never let her go. And it just keeps growing and growing. I never think of her parentage these days. I just want to protect her with my life, even if it means protecting her from myself."
"We'll do our best," he assured her.
"I know you will. Now, back to you. What are you doing wandering around out here in the woods instead of driving over to see me?"
The dark pain in his eyes flew by so fast she would have missed it, had she not had training to spot those exact emotions.
"You're here so we can concentrate on healing you, not what's going on in my life," he began.
"Like hell," she replied. "We're friends, and that's a two-way relationship."
"Yeah, friends," he said. "Because that's what you wanted."
That grin was in place again, and Kymbria knew immediately what he referred to. When they had hit their teens, they'd both been driven by hormonal urges to experiment with their relationship. On her end, Keoman hadn't stirred her senses the ways she had seen in the movies or read about in books. She didn't swoon when he kissed her.
On his end....
Hmmmm. She didn't recall them ever discussing Keoman's end of that experiment after she fell into a fit of giggles one day when she pulled back from what should have been a soul-shattering kiss.
"You got anything to eat back at the cabin?" he asked. "Something for a man, not girly-girl food. Ham? Bacon - "
"Sausage and biscuits?" she interrupted. "With a half-dozen eggs fried in the sausage grease? And the coffee should still be hot."
"Let's go." He bent and removed his skis, then laid them over his shoulder before he wrapped his arm around her waist. They walked back through her tracks to retrieve her snowshoes, Scarlet trailing them. As they neared the cabin, all the while chattering about various friends and what they were doing, the sound of a snowmobile on the lake cut through the still air. Kymbria made a mental note to ask Keoman to check her machines before he left. Right now, amidst their inane conversation, she was searching for a way to get her friend to explain that burst of pain in his eyes.
Blackmail. I'll withhold breakfast until he tells me. I've got a feeling he needs someone to talk to as badly as I do. But Keoman's one of those men who holds onto his personal hurts until they fester.
Their talk would have to wait, she realized as they walked into the kitchen and shed their heavy garments. The noise from the snowmobile out on the lake abated right in front of her cabin. She and Keoman hung their jackets on hooks by the door, then walked through the cabin to the glassed-in deck. There was the machine, pulled up next to the bank. The bundled-up driver - could be male or female, no way to tell under the all-encompassing clothing - climbed the snow-deep steps toward them.
A neighbor also in residence this winter, she assumed as Scarlet growled low. Maybe the one from across the lake. Courtesy indicated she should greet the person. Caution demanded she hesitate.
So many harmless-appearing Afghanistan men and women, even children, carried destruction....
But Keoman was with her now. The other person was outnumbered.
The snowmobile driver knocked. Whoever it was could see them also through the bank of windows.
"Who is it?" she called.
"I'm renting a cabin across the lake." A man's voice, low-timbered, pleasant. "Ran out of coffee this morning and saw your lights on over here."
Yes, the cabin where she'd noticed smoke last night. She still didn't recall who owned it, but it was an even longer trip into town from that shore than hers. Hjak hadn't mentioned any problem residents up here, only the admonition for her to take heed in the lonely land.
The snowmobile driver removed his helmet and brushed at his flattened blond hair, hair that could use a good cut. Male, maybe forty, her age, six foot or so, green eyes. Even under the bulky clothing she could tell he was in shape.
"I know him," Keoman said. "It's all right."
Kymbria unlocked the door.
"Caleb McCoy," the man introduced himself as he removed a glove and extended a hand. Then he glanced over her shoulder and nodded at Keoman. "Morning, Keoman."
"Kymbria James," Kymbria replied with a short grip of greeting. "You can leave your boots on the rug here beside the door." She snapped her fingers at Scarlet and called her over. "Friend," she said. Caleb waited patiently as the setter sniffed his legs, then padded over to the rug in front of the fireplace.
"How do you take your coffee?" Kymbria asked Caleb.
"Black," he said in a tone of thanks. He kicked off as much loose snow as possible on the steps before he walked through the door. While he removed his boots, she went into the kitchen. Behind her, she could hear a murmur of conversation between the two men.
When she returned, Caleb stood with his back to the fire, padded snowsuit unzipped on top to expose his thermal shirt, heavy socks on his feet. Keoman was out on the glassed-in deck, one hand cupped in front of him as though holding something. When Kymbria said "Here," and handed Caleb his coffee, Keoman jerked as though startled and turned to stare at Caleb, one hand now hidden behind his back.
"Thanks," Caleb said as he accepted the cup. He glanced at Keoman, then quickly away. "I didn't expect service like this. A cup of ground beans would have been fine. But I won't turn it down."
He grinned at Kymbria, but when he hefted his cup to take a sip, his gaze once again quickly shifted to the other man, then back.
"Good coffee," Caleb said as he lowered the cup. "Special brand, or just the way you make it?"
He was trying to distract her, Kymbria realized. And when Keoman stuck his hand in his blue jean pocket and murmured something about getting himself a cup of coffee, his effort was blatantly obvious to her trained eye. Besides, she didn't distract easily. She stepped in front of Keoman to block his path.
"What's going on?" she asked. "I'll be damned if I let you two treat me like some bimbo who needs to be protected by macho men. I've deployed to both Iraq and Afghanistan. Probably seen more gore and guts than both of you combined."
When they continued to remain silent, she went on, "Either one of you ever seen the carnage left behind by an IED?"
"Not recently," Caleb replied. "When my Marine unit deployed during Desert Storm, those roadside bombs weren't common, like they are now. But we did run into one or two of them."
"I've not only seen what they can do," Kymbria said, "I've helped counsel the survivors."
The two of them still exchanged another cautionary glance before Keoman blew out a breath and pulled his hand out of his pocket. He kept his fist closed as he asked, "Did you hear anything out on the lake last night?"
A curl of trepidation spread through her stomach, up her back. Even this morning she recalled the sick feeling she'd had when those words whispered in her mind. And she couldn't forget the fear in Scarlet's body language as she curled up tail to nose in front of the fire. Something definitely had been out there, but she'd forced herself to believe it had only been a wild animal and Scarlet's reaction had been her lack of familiarity with them.
Wild animals don't talk...or whisper.
"I - " She cleared her clogged throat. "I assumed it was a wolf or something. It scared Scarlet."
Keoman opened his palm. When he extended it towards her, it held a small flat agate in the shape of a turtle. A fetish, she realized. Someone had polished a stone in the shape of his clan symbol and carried it with them.
"How on earth did you see this in the snow?" she asked Caleb as she started to reach for the fetish. But Keoman pulled it back.
"It was lying on the bottom step of the stairs leading up the bank," Caleb replied. "In plain sight. Someone had brushed off the snow on the step to make sure it was visible."
"There's a small hole in the back of the turtle," Keoman added. "Someone wore it around his neck."
"That explains it, then. Someone passing by - maybe a skier or someone on snowshoes - found it lying along the lake. My set of steps was the first one he passed, and he laid it there so I'd find it."
"There weren't any signs of a skier or snowshoes anywhere around those steps," Caleb assured her. "No snow on top of the fetish, and like I said, the step was bare. We didn't have any overnight snowfall."
Keoman stuck the fetish back in his pocket and walked past her. "Let's all get some coffee."
She allowed him his coffee, poured a cup for herself, then started a new pot before she joined the two silent men at the table. "Now, tell me the rest," she ordered Keoman, staring at him intently, her grip on her cup tight.
He thinned his mouth, then asked her a question instead. "I noticed your place wasn't plowed or shoveled. Don't your parents contract with Len Skinaway to make things ready when you come up here?"
Her rein on her temper threatened to snap; it had been fragile anyway since Afghanistan, another PTSD problem. She leaned across the table, her look so fierce it evidently even startled Keoman, who scooted his chair back a foot or so.
"Tell me what the hell is going on, Keoman Thunderwood, instead of avoiding the issue and only discussing it with menfolk!"
"That question did have something to do with...what you call the issue," Keoman spat back, rising to his feet, his anger a match for hers.
"Hey, hey." Caleb T-ed his hands. "Time out. I'm obviously the menfolk you're alluding to, and I'm not privy to everything Keoman's thinking either. All he told me was that he thought we better call the sheriff about that fetish."
"Hjak?" Kymbria swung her gaze to Caleb. "Just because you found a fetish on my step?"
"No," Keoman said, his eyes now dark and flat. "For two reasons. One, because Len Skinaway was reported missing by his daughter yesterday evening...and he's Turtle Clan. Two, because you heard something on the lake last night." He frowned. "Although...that might be a totally different situation."
The coffeepot gurgled its last drop into the pot as Caleb and Kymbria waited for Keoman to continue. Instead, he turned to walk out of the kitchen as he said, "I'm going to use your phone."