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"What brings you here?" Dawn asked Jonah softly, needing to make
conversation but not wanting to be too loud in case the hunters were close by.
"Probably the same as you: our good friend, the mountain lion." The bitter
sarcasm in his tone was nearly as hurtful as his ignoring her. "Have you figured out
where you're going to keep it? Maybe you can train it to leap on command -- right against
the bars of its cage."
"Jonah, please." Dawn nearly choked on the lump in her throat.
"Please what?" he snapped back. "Please help you catch it. Turn it into
a pet? Break its spirit?"
He put on a spurt of speed that left her behind. She watched his tall form for a
moment. He wore a blue denim jacket she'd seen before. But this time, it did not emphasize
the breadth of his wide shoulders. No, his posture was slumped. Defeated. Even his head
hung forward, though his tawny hair was long enough to ruffle in the mountain breeze.
Her heart went out to him. But how could she understand his agony? How could she even
begin to comprehend?
She couldn't. But there was a place near here she could share with him. A place she had
discovered years ago, where she still went when troubles bore down too hard on her. A
peaceful, majestic place where nature provided unfathomable solace.
She had spent a lot of time there after her fiancé's murder.
This time, it took her several minutes to catch up with Jonah, since, though he must
have heard her coming, he did not slow even a little.
Perhaps he even speeded up.
When she got to his side, she took his arm. "I want to show you something. Will
you come with me?"
He finally decreased his pace, though not by much. He looked down at her. The green in
his eyes seemed nearly washed away with gray pain, and his frown was an acid that etched
deep, horizontal lines into his tanned flesh. "Where?"
The syllable seemed fraught with suspicion, but there was also a hint of curiosity.
"You'll see," Dawn said.
* * *
It was her favorite spot on Eskaway, maybe anywhere: the natural rock quarry through
which a wide, bubbling stream galloped and gurgled downhill.
Trees surrounded the clearing. Some stretched into the cloudless blue sky. Others had
been pounded and displaced in earlier days of spring when the stream turned into a torrent
from melting snow; they leaned over the water, branches extended as though greeting
fellows equally bowed and disabled on the other side.
Dawn looked around, then smiled. She had not been certain this was the right time of
year -- but there it was, a carpet of spring flowers in the flat patch off to the east.
Bluebells and jack-in-the-pulpits grew in riotous display along with the beautiful
blush-pink blossoms of mountain laurel. Their aroma permeated the clearing, along with the
fresh moistness cast into the air by the rapid stream.
She still held Jonah's arm. It remained rigid, but he had not pulled it away.
"That," she said, "is what I wanted you to see."
He said nothing for a long while. He did not seem to move. Maybe he was too damaged
inside to appreciate this offering of some of the most beautiful nature had to offer.
But then he said, nearly too softly for her to hear, "It's beautiful, Dawn. Thank
you."
You're welcome," she replied. That darned lump was back in her throat, for she
heard the deep emotion in his voice. She took his arm and used it to lead him to one of
the mounds of boulders.
She removed her backpack and set it on the ground. Using the rubber soles of her
athletic shoes to help her climb, she scrambled up the rocks, then scooted her behind
around to find as comfortable a position a possible on an unyielding rock. There. She
looked around. From up here, they had a marvelous view of the stream, the surrounding
woods and the field of flowers.
Of beauty that symbolized the spirit of Eskaway.
"Come join me," she called. "It's incredible up here."
To her surprise, he obeyed, settling his substantial body unsettling close to her on
the rock. Their shoulders touched.
She closed her eyes, bathed suddenly in the memory, not so long ago, when more than
their shoulders touched. When he had touched her all over, had made such extraordinarily
tender and passionate love --
"We can't stay long," she said hurriedly, opening her eyes again. "We
need to be out there to save the mountain lion."
His smile was wry. "Both of us in our own ways."
She nodded, filled suddenly with a sense of frustration that had nothing to do with the
nearness of him. How could she get through to him? "I'm sorry they can't be the same,
Jonah," she said. "I really am."
"Me, too," he said simply.
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