Hummingbird Lake Part 6

"Why did you scream? What's wrong with you?"

"I'm okay."

"So you've said a dozen times, but I'm not believing it. I think we'd better get you to a doctor and-"

"I'm a police officer. Step away from the lady, sir," demanded a loud, forceful voice.

"Hey, I need help here," Colt replied.

"I said step away, sir."

Colt muttered a curse beneath his breath, then held up his hands and backed away.

"Ma'am? You screamed. Can you tell me what's wrong? Was this man attacking you?"

She'd screamed? Sage glanced to the right to see a uniformed officer walking toward them. "No, no. I'm fine. I'm sorry. He didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why the scream?"

Sage looked back toward Colt. His jaw was set, but beyond that, she couldn't read his expression. Clearing her throat, she offered the cop a shaky smile. "It was a rat. A rat ran across my foot. It scared me. I'm sorry for the commotion."

He continued to look suspiciously at Colt, who hadn't moved. Sage moved forward and slipped her arm through his, adding, "I've always been deathly afraid of rodents."

After a long moment, the cop nodded. "All right, then. We haven't had a rodent problem here, but I'll be sure the right people hear about this. You two enjoy your night."

"Thank you, we will," Sage said. Turning to Colt, she asked, "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely," he replied, his voice grim.

They headed for the nearest exit, a staircase across the pool from the one they'd descended, and they didn't speak again until they'd exited the Water Gardens and were back on the city street. There, Colt shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, "Do you want to explain what just happened?"

Sage opened her mouth to speak, but then exhaustion overcame her. Muscle-draining, bone deep, debilitating. She didn't think she could move another step. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Talk to me, Sage."

"I can't. I'm so tired. I need to go to bed. Could you help me get a cab?"

"Your hotel is two blocks away."

"I can't make it, Colt. Please? Just ... forget it. Forget me. I can't deal and I need to go to sleep."

Sage knew that cabs weren't all that easy to find in Fort Worth, but luckily, they were across from a high-rise hotel, complete with a cab queue. Colt set his jaw even harder, then nodded curtly. He whistled and waved over a cab, and when it arrived, he opened the door for her, then shut it behind her, not quite a slam, but close.

He gave the driver a twenty and her hotel's name, saying, "Keep the change but watch and make sure she gets inside, okay?"

"Sure, man. Thanks."

To Sage, he said, "This is my hotel, so I'll tell you good-bye here."

"Colt, I'm sorry, I'm just so tired."

"Doesn't matter. Goodnight."

Then he was gone.

SIX.

February Shortly before seven following yet another bad night, Sage washed red and black paint from her brushes and sighed. Maybe she should throw in the towel and go back on sleep meds. Maybe they wouldn't affect her so badly this time.

She tidied her studio, then dragged herself to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She'd make chamomile tea. Maybe break her rule about no daytime naps. Why the heck not? Staying awake wasn't helping at all.

She'd just flipped on the gas burner beneath her teakettle when her phone rang. Her stomach sank. n.o.body called this early-except for Rose. Her sister had called three more times since reaching out that first time when Sage had been in Texas. The calls all had been awkward, strained, and strange. Sage simply wasn't ready to tackle that relations.h.i.+p tiger, though she had made an effort herself by calling on Christmas.

Checking caller ID, she saw Celeste Blessing's name and number. Relieved, she lifted the receiver to her ear and forced a brisk, energetic tone. "Good morning, Celeste."

"Is it?" her friend answered. The comment caught Sage off guard, but before she could frame a response, Celeste continued, "We are on our way with yogurt, granola, fruit, and fresh bread still warm from the oven. Put on a pot of coffee, would you, please? We'll be at the door in ten minutes."

The phone clicked and the dial tone sounded in Sage's ear. Lowering the receiver, she scowled at it. What in the world was this all about? She hadn't forgotten a meeting, had she?

Ten minutes gave her just enough to time to take a speed shower, pull on jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt, get the coffee brewing, and fortify herself with half a cup of tea. She heard a car pull into the drive as she stored her latest painting out of sight. Sage grabbed a hairbrush and tried to tame the tangles in her hair as she headed to the front of the cottage, where through the plate gla.s.s window she spied not only Celeste Blessing but Nic Callahan, Sarah Reese, and Ali Timberlake, too.

Her core group of friends presenting themselves at her doorstep uninvited? And why was Ali in Eternity Springs on a snowy Tuesday morning? This couldn't be good.

Sage pasted on a smile as she flipped the lock and opened the door. Frigid air rushed in. "Isn't this a nice surprise?"

Sarah Reese took one look at Sage, then spoke to Celeste. "You were right. She looks terrible."

"Well," Sage said as the women filed through the door into the gallery. "Aren't you just full of friends.h.i.+p this morning?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." Sarah disdainfully wrinkled her little nose and held up a white paper sack. "In addition to the healthy stuff, I've brought cinnamon rolls."

Sage s.h.i.+fted her gaze to Nic, who was studying her worriedly. Ali Timberlake gave her a tentative smile and asked, "Shall we go to the kitchen?"

Officially out of sorts at this point, Sage murmured, "Can I stop you?"

"Nope." Sarah flashed a smile that had more teeth than was friendly. "This is an intervention."

An intervention? Sage closed her eyes. Wonderful. Just flippin' wonderful.

"Yeah, an intervention. Ali's made a special trip for it."

Ali smiled rea.s.suringly. Sage sighed and followed her friends to the kitchen. Celeste's brow knitted in a frown. "It's freezing in here."

"The heater can't keep up. I'm having a new system installed, but Jimmy Turnage is backed up. No telling when he'll get around to me." Since her table only seated four, Sage grabbed her work stool from her studio, placed it at the table, and snagged the first cinnamon roll out of the sack. She took a bite of the sinfully sweet roll, savored the taste for a moment, then faced the proverbial music. "So, dare I ask why you concluded that an interference-"

"Intervention," Sarah corrected.

"-was appropriate? What, you found out about my dark chocolate M&M habit?"

"Dark chocolate is good for you." Celeste smiled her thanks to Sarah as she served them all a mug of fresh, steaming coffee, then continued, "Actually, sweetheart, a guardian angel whispered in my ear that your light was on most of the night again. As your friends, we are concerned."

A guardian angel? More likely somebody up for a midnight snack. Although Sage's cottage was isolated from town, her lights shone like a lighthouse beacon across Hummingbird Lake, especially in the off-season, when hers was one of the few occupied lakeside residences.

"You've lost weight, and there's not a makeup on the market good enough to cover the dark circles beneath your eyes," Nic added, snagging a carton of strawberry yogurt and a spoon from the center of the table. She crossed her legs, gave her blond ponytail a toss, and settled back in her chair. "Believe me, I know. Since the twins were born, I've tried every combination of foundation and cover-up out there."

Ali selected a banana while gazing longingly at the cinnamon rolls. "The girls tell me you haven't come to quilt group since before Thanksgiving, Sage. That's not like you."

Even as Sage opened her mouth to defend herself, Sarah went in for the kill. "Most telling of all, you haven't said word one about your gallery showing in Texas. You've gone out of your way to change the subject or ignore the question when someone asks about it. Did you think we wouldn't notice?"

Nic touched her forearm and asked, "What happened in Texas, Sage?"

"It was a man, wasn't it?" Sarah asked. "Who was he? What did he do? Did he hurt you, Sage?"

Nic set down her yogurt. "Honey, are you pregnant?"

At that, a laugh burst from Sage's mouth. She understood why Nic's thoughts would go there. A year ago Nic had had her own Christmas season soiree and ended up the mother of twins. "I wasn't hurt or impregnated. Nothing bad happened."

"Then what happened, dear?" Celeste asked. "You haven't been yourself since you came back from your show. Is it career-related trouble?"

"No." Sage recognized that concern, not nosiness, lay behind her friends' questions. While she appreciated that they cared, she had no intention of sharing the full story. She'd never told anyone the entire nightmare-not her colleagues, not her therapist, not even her sister. She simply couldn't.

So she gave them what she could. "But you're right, I haven't been myself. My sleep cycle is all out of whack and I'm not sleeping well. When I do sleep I have horrible dreams, and that exacerbates the problem. I'll get back to normal eventually, but in the meantime ..." Sage shrugged. "I'm cranky."

"Can't you take pills to help you sleep?" Sarah asked.

"I could. I don't want to go down that road if I can avoid it. In the past, they've turned my nightmares into Nightmares."

"Is there anything we can do to help you?" Sarah reached across the table and touched Sage's arm. "We're worried about you."

As the others nodded their agreement, warmth washed through Sage. She loved these women. She truly did. "I'm okay. No need to worry. Just bear with me a bit. One of my sister's favorite sayings is 'This too shall pa.s.s,' and I know that it is applicable in this case. I've been down this road before. I know what to expect."

The others all shared a look, then Sarah asked Nic, "What do you think?"

Nic shrugged. "I'm a veterinarian, not a psychologist or a sleep specialist."

"Or a man," Celeste observed. "That's what Sage needs. A good man. A good marriage."

Amus.e.m.e.nt gleamed in Ali's eyes. "Now there's a thought, Celeste. Good s.e.x does make a girl sleep like a baby."

"True," Nic agreed, smiling smugly.

"Now, that's just rude." Sarah turned to Sage and said, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting tired of these giddily happy married women lording their s.e.x lives over us."

It was a running jest between them. Sage knew her friends were trying to lighten the mood.

"Yep. I don't like it either." Sage polished off her cinnamon roll, then licked her fingers while the others continued their banter. Just when she'd begun to hope that the intervention part of the morning was behind her, Sarah had to circle around to the topic once again. Darn her, the woman was a terrier.

"I hate that you're having trouble sleeping," Sarah said, "but I don't think it's a good excuse for you to go hermit on us. This isn't like your bouts of creativity, Sage." Gesturing toward the studio walls, she added, "I don't see new paintings stacked up."

That's because I keep them hidden away. Sage couldn't bring herself to destroy or paint over all of the nightmare canvases, but she couldn't bear to look at them, either. No way was she going to make their existence public.

Rather than address the topic of paintings, she tossed a proverbial bone. "You're right, Sarah. I'll make an effort to get out more. Okay?"

"You'll join us for the Patchwork Angels meeting next week?" Celeste asked. When Sage hesitated, she added, "Please, Sage. For me?"

Sage couldn't say no to Celeste. "I will."

"Promise?" Sarah folded her arms. "No convenient burst of I-must-paint-because-my-muse-demands-it?"

"I promise, Sarah. I'll come to quilt group."

After that, talk s.h.i.+fted to Nic's babies and Sage gratefully concluded that the intervention had now eased into a coffee klatch. Relaxing, she sat back, sipped her tea, and told herself she'd get through this rough patch. After all, she had the dearest, most caring friends in the world on her side, along with the haven that was called Eternity Springs.

Still, a little sleep wouldn't hurt.

Colt Rafferty held his breath as he reached the summit of Sinner's Prayer Pa.s.s during the third week of February. The road was well maintained, but the switchbacks in winter were a heart attack waiting to happen. He hoped his tires held. He really hoped his brakes didn't quit. When he hit an icy patch and skated toward the edge of the road-the edge of the mountain-he sent up a prayer and decided that whoever had named this pa.s.s certainly called it right.

Colt had made this drive dozens of times before, but never in the dead of winter. Never in ten-degree weather. Never with snow deep enough to swallow his rental SUV. This would be his first trip to Eternity Springs during the off-season. When his boss told him to go someplace to cool off, he couldn't think of a more fitting place to go. As his back tires fishtailed, he muttered, "Hope that wasn't my last fitting thought."

Colt was coming off the most difficult stretch of weeks he'd experienced since coming to the CSB. Two horrific accidents, eighteen deaths that could have and should have been prevented, and a bureaucratic wall of red tape and politics that made him see red and, unfortunately, lose his temper.

Well, sliding off the road here on Sinner's Prayer Pa.s.s would at least get him out of the lawsuit that was probably coming. He'd really screwed up when he threw that punch at the OSHA guy.

But dammit, he was sick to death of the agencies all working both sides against the middle, and he'd finally erupted. He'd just ended a phone call to Melody Slaughter in which he'd had to tell her that the chemical spill that had killed her husband and eleven others the previous week had been completely avoidable had the OSHA inspector done his job.

"I don't know why I even try," he muttered as he downs.h.i.+fted. What good were they doing, really? Only a small percentage of their recommendations ever made it into regulation. Only a percentage of those regulations were being followed in the field. "Why should they follow regulations when it's easier to bribe an inspector instead?"

That was the piece of news he'd received that had led to the meeting that led to his blowup. Were there no good, honest people in the world anymore?

Yes, there were. That's why he was headed to Eternity Springs.

Having been given two weeks of forced leave, he'd booked his flight to Colorado, and since his usual rental was closed for the winter, he'd called Celeste Blessing to arrange for a place to stay. He'd asked for one of the outlying cottages on the Angel's Rest property, but after Celeste explained that a church group from Kansas had rented the entire facility for a week, she suggested alternative lodging that she believed would suit his needs perfectly. She'd volunteered to make all the arrangements for him and instructed him to stop by Angel's Rest to pick up a key.

He couldn't wait to get there. He'd flown to Denver last night, then headed into the mountains this morning. He'd added at least an hour and a half to the trip by stopping to admire the snowy vistas at least half a dozen times since entering the mountains. He was hungry, craving a strong cup of coffee, and nursing a strong sense of antic.i.p.ation. He loved Eternity Springs, its people, and their small-town values.

Life wasn't gentle in the mountain valley-especially not this time of year, he imagined-but in many ways, life was kinder there than elsewhere. People didn't cut other people off in traffic in Eternity-there wasn't any traffic. They weren't rude to strangers, because the only strangers were tourists and tourists were the economic lifeblood of the area. And of special appeal to him, here people said what they meant and meant what they said. The only spinning done in Eternity Springs was done by skaters on Hummingbird Lake in winter. They d.a.m.n sure wouldn't take bribes and look the other way, putting lives at risk.

Finally he rounded the hairpin curve that offered the first sight of the little town nestled in the narrow valley. Once again he pulled to the side of the road and took a moment to soak in the view. "It's a postcard," he murmured. Gorgeous. Beautiful.

Special.

Mountains filled with evergreens and snow ringed the narrow valley with a small town nestled at its center. Unlike other times of year when nature painted a myriad of colors across the landscape, today white was the predominant color, with a spattering of blue, green, and yellow on the wood siding of the Victorian-era homes in the center of town. Smoke rose from redbrick chimneys, and he counted five snow-dusted church steeples reaching toward heaven. At the far end of town, Hummingbird Lake lay beneath a sheet of ice.