Chapter 29 The Magic Word
the magic word
ROXANNE
I hastily finish scribbling some notes about what was said around Fire Circle while it’s fresh in my mind. Everyone’s stories were so moving. I had some idea that transitioning back to civilian life was hard, but it’s so much more meaningful hearing it from the veterans themselves.
When I finally set my notebook aside, I exhale and stretch out on my sleeping bag. Writing helps keep my mind off what’s going on outside the tent, but it only lasts so long. The storm is coming, and I have nowhere to hide.
I close my eyes, but every twig snap, every crunch of brush and whistle of wind wakes me and has my mind racing.
I pull the sleeping bag tighter around my neck.
To some it feels quiet and peaceful out here, but not for me.
The hills are alive and every bit of it sends a quake through me.
The screech of coyotes echoes through the clearing. They sound really close.
That’s it. That’s it!
I’ve been trying to keep it cool, but I don’t want to sleep in this flimsy piece of nylon while wild beasts stalk me outside.
I wrap the extra blanket around my shoulders, bolt from my tent and search around.
I’m sure Allie already snuck into Topper’s tent by now and in scanning the camp, I see Duke’s light is still on inside his.
What do I do? Do I knock?
“Mr. Faraday! Mr. Faraday!”
“Who is it?” he asks with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“You know who it is. Can I please come in?”
I’m not sure why I’m panicking, but I am, and with the storm building, I don’t want to be alone.
He shuffles around in the tent, his voice near the door. “Only people who call me Duke are allowed in here.”
“Mr. Faraday, please!”
“When you say the magic word, you’re more than welcome to come in,” he replies casually.
The coyotes screech again with increased excitement.
“Fine! Duke, can I please come in?”
He unzips the door wide enough so I can rush in. I flop down in the corner after he zips it back up. “Can’t believe it took the threat of coyotes for you to call me by my first name.”
I brush my hair out of my face. “Thank you.”
“Say it again,” he insists.
“What? Thank you?”
“No.” His full lips curve. “My name.”
I pause, not sure I really want to give him this moment, but then I catch that he’s been reading Dante’s Inferno. Damn, this man has layers.
“Thank you … Duke. How’s that?”
“Feels right,” he says, lying back on his sleeping bag and folding his arms behind his head.
“I, uh, don’t want to bother you …”
“You keep saying things like that, Roxanne, but I now know that’s not really your concern.”
“How do you mean?”
“I think when you say ‘I don’t want to bother you,’ you’re hoping that I’ll say that having you near me is a bother and that will give you an excuse to keep up this wall between us.
Let’s get one thing straight …” He pushes himself up.
“You are never bothering me. I told you, move into the guest room, for Christ’s sake. ”
“Got it.”
I shiver when I hear another sound outside that’s much worse than the coyotes.
Thunder. Distant, subtle, but still headed for us.
“Sheesh, they really got you riled up.” His hand touches my shoulder and it’s like a rush of comfort floods through me.
“I, um … it’s the sound of them yapping. It gets to me.”
“I can see that.” He lies back down and rests his head on his hand. “You’re safe in here tonight. I’ve got my rifle—” He puts his hand up when he sees me stiffen. “It’s tucked safely in my case. You’re good.”
I manage a smile and pull my blanket tighter around me.
“You can even lie down in here. I promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
I throw him a glance through narrowed eyes. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Faraday’s honor, I won’t even try to kiss you unless you ask me to.”
A small sizzle of want tickles the insides of my thighs. Part of me would love to lie down and have him kiss me until dawn, but that ever-approaching sound of thunder keeps yanking me from that dream.
“Hey, hey,” he weaves his hand in mine. “It’s not just the coyotes, it’s the storm, isn’t it?”
I nod and squeeze his hand.
“What happened, Roxanne?” He asks, inching closer to me. “Everyone has shared tonight. Might do you some good to do the same.”
I glance up at him and forget about the roll of thunder for a moment.
He shifts to face me, the lantern light skimming across the rumpled fabric of his shirt, hinting at the kind of strength you only notice when you’re close enough to touch it.
It’s wildly unfair that a man can look that solid and that soft all at once.
“C’mon. Go ahead,” he urges, gently tugging me.
I lie down at his side, and he wraps a blanket around me.
“You can tell me what happened unless …” He grabs Dante’s Inferno and holds it in front of him.
“Might I entice you with a reading of this story about a man being led through the nine circles of hell?”
I laugh. “Hmm, that’s a very tempting offer.”
I can feel myself leaning toward him. Like some part of me is cracking open, just wide enough to let his warmth in.
I want to tell him about the storm, the internal scars, the moment everything split open in that forest and the girl I was never quite came back.
I know he’d listen, and I feel the words rising in my throat.
CRACK.
The sky splits open with a vicious flash of white, and my body reacts before my mind can catch up. I flinch hard and let out a quick gasp. My heart’s in my throat. I’m not in the tent anymore, I’m in the woods on that night.
Lightning in the sky, mud on my hands, and no one coming back for me.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay, Roxanne, I’m here,” Duke says, his voice low and soothing. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
That’s it, I’m fucking done. I sink forward toward him. I bury my face into his strong chest and another dam bursts. I don’t even realize I’m clutching the front of his shirt until he exhales and rests his chin gently against the top of my head.
“Breathe, you’re okay. God, I’m so sorry.”
I roll onto my back. “No, I’m sorry, I hate crying in front of people. I never cry. Like never, and since I’ve been here—”
“You should cry. You need to. You can sob in here all night. It’s good for you.”
I sniff. “That’s what they tell me.”
Duke reaches behind him, rummages through his backpack, and hands me a Kleenex.
“Are you always this prepared?” I ask.
“Absolutely.”
I crumple the tissue after wiping my eyes and nose. He even takes it from me and puts it in a plastic bag. This man isn’t even bothered by my germs! I reach for another tissue and start talking.
“My ex, he … he insisted we go on this seven-day trek in the Lost Creek Wilderness.”
Duke doesn’t say anything, he just watches me like he’s absorbing every word.
“It started drizzling early on, and I wanted to turn back. The forecast called for storms, but he…” I shake my head. “He said I was being dramatic. Said I was ‘ruining the vibe.’”
His fingertips trace a slow line along my arm.
“He was high. I didn’t realize how high until we were hours in.
Weed. Mushrooms. Maybe something else. He kept saying he felt the Earth breathing.
And then it started.” My voice cracks. “The storm. Lightning. Thunder. Close. Loud. Too loud.” My chest tightens at the memory.
“I slipped and twisted my ankle. I pleaded with him to help me find cover, but he just … laughed. Said he’d be right back and that he was getting help.
I waited for almost an hour. Sitting there, soaking in the storm. ”
The tent is dead quiet. Even the wind outside has stilled for a moment.
“Eventually, I gave up and started to limp out of there. I didn’t know where I was going and I was shaking so bad I couldn’t tell whether it was from cold or panic or both. That’s when it hit.”
“The strike?”
“Yes.” I nod. “It struck me, and I was out. I don’t remember much after that. Two other hikers found me. I woke up covered in mud and pine needles, my arm numb, blood in my mouth.”
Duke breathes out, like he’s been holding it the whole time.
“He never came back.” My voice drops to a whisper. “He … he… left me.”