to dust.
Brian dragged his thoughts back to the present and focused on Joy as she limped toward him. Thus far she’d refused his help, but he could see she was tiring quickly. “Suppose you rest here for a little while. I’d like to scout that area off to the left,” he said and pointed to a small sunlit meadow on a parallel course to theirs. “This trail’s getting rocky and pretty steep. I thought maybe there might be an easier path leading down the mountain beyond that meadow.”
Joy nodded and Brian took off his pack. He untied the gurney pad and tossed it down for her to sit on. The vinyl-covered pad made the pack bulkier than he would’ve liked and at first he’d intended to leave it behind. It had already served its purpose of cushioning the bundle he’d dragged with him out of the plane. But leaving it had bothered him. His father had taught him and his brothers not to leave a mark on the wilderness with discarded things. Then, as if to cement his instincts, Joy had insisted she would carry it if necessary. Taking that as a sign that she was a lot more uncomfortable than she was willing to let on, he’d decided to bring it along. So he’d rearranged things and they’d gotten started for the plane.
As he tramped toward the meadow, Brian remembered their short exchange earlier in the day. His mother had been both right and wrong. Joy did hide hurt with anger, but she had never wanted or needed his protection within a relationship between them. He was beginning to think what she’d needed was for him to show he had confidence in her abilities. If that was the case, then he’d failed her.
Maybe that was why since Joy, he only dated petite brunettes—women as different from Joy as he could find. The thought gave him pause. So why, if they were her polar opposite, did those women always lose their fascination for him so quickly? None of them made his heart pound. His head spin. Or his heart ache with tenderness and admiration. And those were all the things he felt now as he watched Joy fight pain and fatigue with steadfast determination and courage.
No wonder just glancing at her across a room bothered him so deeply. He was tired of the animosity—he missed her friendship and he’d never been so attracted to any of his petite brunettes. Though they could never be more to each other than friends, it would be nice if they could at least have that again. He sighed. They could have been so happy if he had been what she’d needed and if she could have been what he wanted.
Brian was shocked to realize that he desperately wanted to be what Joy needed right now. Remembering the tired look on her face as she settled onto the mat, he wondered if that were possible, considering their history. He was nearly sure he couldn’t get her to rest for long, but at least he could find an easier route to the valley.
Rolling his sore shoulders and shaking a cramp out of one of his arms, Brian moved swiftly across the meadow. The pack he’d left with Joy was heavy and he was out of practice with this kind of exercise. He made himself promise—when they got back home, he’d begin taking more time for relaxation, for life.
Nearly at the far edge of the meadow, he’d just spotted a deer path when he heard Joy’s terrified scream. It had taken a full five minutes to get as far as he was, but Brian made it back in two minutes flat. He didn’t know what he expected to find but it wasn’t Joy cowering against the rock he used for a seat a short while ago. Or the adorable bear cub, sitting back on its haunches, sniffing the air then licking its paws. He was so relieved that she wasn’t in immediate danger, he chuckled.
“It isn’t funny,” Joy snapped.
He looked around, realizing she was right. It was easy to see why people got themselves into trouble with bears. “No. He’s cute but you’re right. It really isn’t funny. I’m guessing you didn’t see the mother.”
“No, thank the Lord. I woke up and it was
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland