Free On Deadly Ground by Lauren Nichols Page A

seen Sunday night? Tears formed in his eyes. She’d tell. And life as he knew it would be over. Everything he’d worked for would be over!
    Suddenly his insides revolted, and with an anguished cry, he bent over the toilet and emptied his stomach. “God, help me,” he whispered gripping the bowl. But he doubted that God was listening anymore.
    Rachel swam toward consciousness in the shaded room, the world around her slowly taking shape. Two tall posters rose at the bottom of her cozy bed, and from somewhere to her left, a soft breeze touched her face. She smiled—stretched a little.
    Then reality swept away contentment, and a cold hard stone settled on her heart. She was at Jenna’s, in one of her rooms at the Blackberry. Her home and everything in it was gone.
    It all came back to her. She remembered the fire, remembered the fear … remembered Jake holding her and washing her feet.
    “Come on. Sit down and let me do this. Looks like you stepped on a piece of glass
—
probably when you broke into the store.”
    “I’m okay. I can do it.”
    “I know you can,”
he’d replied, the compassion in his eyes touching her.
“But let me.”
    She smiled sadly. Who would have thought a big man could be so gentle?
    Blinking back tears, she got out of bed, grimaced a little when her left foot touched the floor, then pulled Jenna’s robe over the nightgown she’d borrowed. She’dasked Jenna to wake her if she slept past twelve-thirty, and according to the clock beside the bed, it was nearly that now. She found her friend in the sunny little breakfast nook off the kitchen, setting the table with white china cups, saucers and plates ringed in tiny pink roses. It was a lovely, welcome sight after the horror of charred wood and broken dreams.
    “Good afternoon,” Jenna said, smiling and looking up. “Did you sleep well?”
    “Better than I can remember,” Rachel replied, returning her smile. She took a seat. “If all the beds in the Blackberry are as comfortable as mine, no wonder business is booming.”
    “I’m not sure it’s booming,” Jenna said, pouring coffee for the two of them. “But reservations are coming in. I’ll be full—except for your room—on Monday.”
    “How wonderful,” Rachel returned, then took in the table. Glazed cranberry-almond scones were piled on a footed crystal platter, and at each of their place settings, glasses of orange juice sat beside small bowls of chilled berries and fruit. Pale green rings held pink linen napkins.
    She wasn’t used to such lavishness. She loved nice things and enjoyed dressing up for special occasions. But for the most part, she was a hot dogs-and-mountains, pies-over-a-fire woman. It still felt wonderful to be pampered—if only for a day or two.
    Jenna was moving again, taking a bowl of whipped cream from the refrigerator, then adding a huge dollop of it to their fruit. “Now what else can I get you? An omelet? Cereal? Waffles?”
    Rachel had to laugh. “Nothing. This is almost more than I can handle.”
    “You’re sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble.”
    “I’m sure.”
    “Okay, then.” She took a seat across from Rachel and drew a deep breath. “What’s your plan today?”
    The hurt came back. “I guess I should contact my insurance company first. Then I’ll call Ben. He said the fire marshal would probably be investigating today. And I suppose I should drive down to the campground—see what I have to work with in the light of day.”
    Jenna’s look softened. “That should be a lot of fun. Need some company? I’m not busy today.”
    “Thanks, but I need to face this on my own. Besides, I’ll be there for a while. I need to have the glass replaced in my door, and call my guests—give them the option of bowing out. I’m afraid the smell of the fire could linger for a while.”
    “What about your parents?”
    “I know I should call them—at least let my mom know. But with Dad still recovering … Jenna, I just can’t. She’d want to