Chapter 23 Darcy
DARCY
It’s the coldest I’ve felt since we got here and the wind whips angrily at my hair. The flurries from earlier have turned into full blown snow and I can’t see anything past Derek, who is a few steps ahead of me.
I picture J.B. realizing the weather is changing, and innocently coming back to grab her scarf and gloves only to hear me say so plainly that the new family she’s been so excited about is fake.
“Why did we do this?” Derek asks himself.
But I can’t answer because I don’t really know.
I mean, I know why I did it. I did it because I would do anything Derek asks of me. I did it because I was already half in love with him. I did it because I could see the connection he has with his grandfather and how much the two of them needed a win.
But I also told myself that no one would get hurt.
And ever since that first day I’ve been letting myself hope that maybe this fantasy could come true after all.
But I’ll never be able to forgive myself for letting J.B. down. She deserves so much more than to feel like the grown-ups in her life don’t respect her enough to be honest with her.
And even if we think we were trying to make Michael happy, what kind of lesson are we teaching her about how to treat the older generation?
Seeing the situation from J.B.’s perspective has my blinders off, and I know that what her father and I did was unspeakably wrong and I’ll probably never stop being sorry for it. I just hope she’ll let me tell her so, even if she never forgives me.
The lodge appears out of the snow at last and Derek opens the front door for me, his chivalry so much a part of him even at a time like this.
But when we step inside, Michael is alone at his little table by the fire with the chess board set up and ready.
Though the lobby is relatively full of guests chatting and sipping cocoa, J.B. is nowhere to be seen.
“Where is she?” Derek demands.
Michael shakes his head mutely.
The other guests and staff have stopped what they’re doing to see what’s going on, and suddenly my heart is pounding harder than it was on the run here. I’m sweating but my blood is running cold.
If J.B. isn’t here, then where did she go?
“What’s happening?” Michael asks, getting to his feet.
“She said she had to think,” Derek says.
For a moment, I’m lost. But then it hits me. There is one place I know that J.B. likes best on Angel Mountain when she wants to think.
“The peak,” I yell, and Derek nods.
“What happened?” Michael asks. “Why did she need a place to think?”
But I’m already running for the door again.
“Stay here,” Derek tells his grandfather. “We’ll explain everything as soon as we’re back with J.B. safe and sound.”
The snow is coming down so hard outside that it’s work just to get around the side of the lodge. By the time I get to the barn I’m squinting against flakes that are slanting down in a sheet and clinging to my eyelashes.
We open the barn door, inhaling the sweet scent of hay and the relative warmth as I move past the stalls.
Nutmeg, the feisty mare J.B. rode this morning is here, so J.B. must have taken a different animal, which is odd.
But it’s also good because I’ve got the sense that Nutmeg is fast.
I watched the groom prepare the horses when we went for our ride this morning. So when I see that no one is here to attend us, I sprint for the tack room and grab Nutmeg’s saddle and bridle, saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving that each horse’s gear is clearly marked.
By the time I get back to the horses, Derek is heading to do the same thing.
I lead Nutmeg out of her stall and tack her up quickly. I hate taking her out cold like this, but it’s an emergency. In this weather on a trail alone J.B. could get into real trouble, especially when she’s distracted.
“We have to find J.B.,” I tell Nutmeg softly as I check her bit.
The mare seems eager. Her ears prick up like she’s trying to understand the mission and I can feel the coiled energy in her when I stroke her neck.
I tighten her saddle and leap on, urging her to move quickly before we’re even out of the barn.
“Whoa,” I hear Derek exclaim from behind us. “How did you do that?”
Right.
“I’ll tell you later,” I yell back to him, figuring my confession that I was a Wilderness Girl isn’t really a priority right now.
When we get outside, I wheel Nutmeg around to face Derek and Frankincense. The trail is a loop, and there’s no way to tell which way she took. The snow has erased any sign of tracks.
“I’ll go up this way,” I yell through the snow. “You go the other way, so we can’t miss her.”
He nods to me and I give Nutmeg’s belly a squeeze.
She doesn’t need the encouragement. In a second she’s moving up the trail fast enough that I worry I’m going to have to pull her back so she doesn’t slip and hurt herself.
The beautiful trail that went by in a heartbeat this morning seems much longer tonight. It’s dark, and the snow puts a hush over the hillside so that it feels like Nutmeg and I are alone on the edge of the world.
I would be scared for my own safety, except that the mare is swift and sure-footed, and she certainly knows the way.
Which leaves me free to be scared for J.B. instead.
It was clear this morning that she’s an experienced rider. But she’s also very upset, and she’s a teenager, which means her judgment may not be the best.
She’ll be okay, I tell myself. She has to be.
But when I get up to the peak and she’s not there, my heart is in my throat.
“J.B.,” I yell out at the top of my lungs. “Judi-Bloom, are you here?”
I hear hoofbeats and look up hopefully.
But it’s only Derek on Frankincense, arriving on the peak from the other side of the trail. There’s a haunted expression on his face as he joins me in the swirling snow at the top of the mountain.
I’ve seen Derek Lockwood look victorious over a business triumph, and furious when an employee makes a costly error.
I’ve seen him pensively gaze out the window, his mind on somber things.
And since coming to Angel Mountain with him, I’ve seen his eyes go soft with compassion and his handsome face light up with humor.
But I’ve never seen him look like this—his jaw is set and his eyes flashing with a mixture of determination and terror.
“She didn’t come this way. I was wrong,” I tell him, a strange sense of calm settling over me in spite of the frantic emotions that boil just beneath the surface of my mind. “Let’s head back down and call the police. They’ll know what to do.”
I don’t say out loud that they’ll probably call in the park rangers. But if she took a horse down one of the trails into the state park she could be anywhere.
He nods once, and I urge Nutmeg down the trail once more.
There’s nothing but the thunder of hoofbeats and the silent prayers in my head.
Please let her be okay…