Chapter Fifteen
Abby sat quietly by the fire while Whit fished into the sunset.
Luckily, she could see her from where she was, so she got the chance to study her uninterrupted for hours.
Whit was like a dark horse—lean, powerful, and mysterious.
Abby couldn’t help but be captivated, not only by her appearance, but her personality as well.
She was as quiet as she was protective. Beautiful, yet guarded.
And Abby couldn’t shake the sense that there was a lot more to Whit than she was letting on.
“Maybe she’s just a very private person.
” She lifted the shirt full of rocks off her leg and set it aside.
It was now warm and useless, but she had to admit, it had helped with her swelling and pain.
Whit definitely knew what she was doing, using the rocks as a replacement for ice.
Abby flexed her leg, bending her knee again and again.
It felt better already. Maybe she would be able to walk tomorrow after all.
She rolled down her pant leg and checked the time.
Whit should be coming back soon and she’d have to return the watch.
The black face of the stainless steel Seiko looked too large on her slim wrist, but she liked the watch regardless.
It was shiny and sleek, and appeared to be older, similar to the ones she’d seen some of her friends’ fathers wear when she was younger.
She wondered where Whit got it. Curious, she turned it over and found an inscription.
To Rick,
The best husband
And father.
Abby ran her thumb over the engraved words. She held the watch closer, confused as to why the words were darker than the rest of the stainless steel.
“Hmm. Must be dirt.”
She searched for a twig to try and dig it out. But Whit sneaked up on her.
“What are you doing?”
Abby startled and dropped the twig she’d found to palm her chest. “Oh, Jesus, you scared me.” Whit must’ve walked up while she was inspecting the watch. She hadn’t even heard her approach. “I was just going to try and clean the dirt out of the inscription on the back for you.”
Whit nearly threw the fish-riddled spear against the log. “You what?” She snatched the watch away from Abby and frantically turned it over.
“I was just going to try—”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, not yet I—”
“Don’t,” she said, sitting on the log. “Don’t you touch it.”
Abby stared at her in confusion. “Okay, I won’t.”
“That’s right, you won’t. I’m not giving it to you again.” She fastened the watch back onto her wrist and adjusted it with her fingers, as if she wanted to make sure it was resting in exactly the right spot.
“Whit, I’m sorry, I’ve obviously done something wrong, but I have no idea what.”
Whit wouldn’t look at her. “Just forget it.”
“The watch…” Abby said. “It obviously means something to you. Was it your father’s?”
Whit visibly swallowed as she focused on the woods behind them. “Yes.”
“And you want to keep the dirt on it. I understand. It’s sentimental.”
Whit’s gaze finally settled on hers and Abby saw a pain there so deep and so raw, it took her breath away.
“It’s not dirt.” She picked up a stick and stabbed at the burning logs between them, increasing the heat output significantly. Abby edged back a bit as Whit tossed the stick aside and began removing the fish fillets from the spear to place them in the smoker.
“What is it?” Abby asked softly, careful to tread lightly. “Rust?” She couldn’t figure out why Whit would get so upset over rust.
Whit knelt in front of the smoker, removed the rock pile for a door, and leaned inside to set the fish on the racks.
She could only place two, so she backed out and stood and peeled away the branches to place the remainder of the fillets inside.
As she reapplied the branches to the top tier, she spoke.
“It’s blood.” She then knelt once again to rebuild the smoker door.
Abby blinked, concerned and more confused than ever. She wanted to question her further, but her mouth had gone dry. Why would there be blood on her father’s watch? Had something bad happened? And why would Whit want to keep it on there?
Whit finished with the stones and rose to return to the log, where she began cooking their dinner.
Abby hadn’t gathered any more mushrooms, but she had collected some blueberries on her quest. She dug into her pockets and dropped handfuls into the pot.
She set the pot on the slab of stone next to the cooking fish.
“Did something happen, Whit?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer. “To your father?”
“Yes.” She closed her mouth and clenched her jaw. Abby could see it flexing as she maneuvered the fillet with her buck knife. Her face had lost all color and her eyes had glazed over as she stared endlessly into the fire.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Whit was silent for a long moment.
Abby spoke. “You don’t have to, of course. I just—I’m here to listen if you’d like to share. Sometimes talking about things—”
“He was murdered.”
“What?” Abby choked, having swallowed wrong.
Whit came around the fire for the water bottle. She drank heartily from it and then gave it to Abby without another word.
Abby took it slowly, trying to hold her gaze, but Whit was avoidant.
“Whit,” she said. “Are you okay?”
The vacant look remained in her eyes as she walked away. Abby watched as she disappeared into the woods, back where she’d disappeared once before.
“Great,” Abby said. “I’ve run her off again.
” She pushed herself to a stand and hobbled as best she could over to the tree line and followed Whit into the heavily wooded forest. Nightfall was seeping in, crawling in like an approaching spider, creepy and slow, causing anticipation to build.
She worried about getting lost again, but also worried about Whit.
Would she be able to find her way back in the dark like she did last time? Or was she too upset?
I have to go to her. She’s hurting. And if what she said is true, then she’s really hurting.
Abby began to yell for her, not bothering to stop to see if she could hear a reply. She just kept on plowing through the branches and bushes scraping her skin as she walked.
“Whit! Please come back. I promise I won’t ask any more questions.”
She closed her eyes and turned her head as she pushed through some heavy branches, and when she came out the other side, she saw Whit bent over, picking mushrooms, and dropping them into the bottom of her sweater.
“Whit,” Abby breathed, hobbling over to her. “What are you doing?”
“Getting some more mushrooms.”
She sounded so nonchalant that Abby did a double take. “You’re what?”
“Getting some more mushrooms.”
“But you—you just left. Without a word. I thought—”
“I’m fine.” She straightened and showed her the bundle of mushrooms she held in the basket she’d formed with her sweater. “I got a whole bunch.”
“So you did.”
Whit walked past her and headed for the trail back. Abby hurried to catch up.
“Wait for me,” she said as she lingered behind her. “I can’t walk that fast.”
Whit didn’t slow however, and Abby once again had to brave the branches and brush on her own. By the time they returned to camp, Abby’s face and hands were stinging with fresh cuts. She winced, wishing for some aloe vera to spread on them.
“Can you please not do that again?” she said, eyeing her cuts.
“Do what?” Whit poured the mushrooms into the sizzling pot of blueberries.
“Just take off.”
“I didn’t, did I? You knew I went for mushrooms.”
“No, I didn’t, Whit. I didn’t know what you were up to until I found you.”
Whit’s face dropped as if she were truly unnerved by the news.
“You didn’t say anything. You just left, like you did before.”
“Oh.” She flipped the fish with her knife.
“Oh?” Abby said. “That’s it? Just ‘oh’?”
Whit dropped onto the log and ran her hands through her hair as if exasperated. “I can’t promise anything,” she said.
“You can’t promise anything? How is that fair? You made me promise not to wander off again and I did and I intend to keep that promise. And yet, you won’t do the same? What gives, Whit?”
Whit held her head in her hands. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?”
She looked up. “Because I didn’t even realize I’d done it, okay?”
Abby stared at her, dumbfounded. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. But I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just please, leave it be for now.”
Her hands shook as she clasped them together and Abby decided to honor her request. The subject of her father had obviously stressed her considerably and Abby didn’t want to add to that.
Whatever had happened to her father must’ve been absolutely awful and it still greatly affected Whit, in more ways than she realized.
Abby spoke, her voice barely a whisper. “Okay, Whit. We won’t talk about it.”
Whit sighed. “Thank you.”
Abby could smell the cooking berries and mushrooms. “You might want to stir that pot.” She’d do it herself, but her knee was aching and she didn’t think it wise to move. Whit quickly stirred the pot and then gave Abby the once-over.
“You need more rocks,” she said. She sheathed her knife and retrieved her phone to switch on her flashlight. Then she turned toward the creek and started to walk away but stopped. She looked back at Abby. “I’m going to the creek,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
Abby smiled. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
A small grin lifted one corner of her mouth and then she was gone. Abby waited patiently for her to return and when she did, she eased the cold, wet bundle down onto her bare knee.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Whit settled down once again across the fire.
“So, do you think we’ll be able to leave tomorrow?” Abby asked, grimacing at the feel of the icy chill on her skin.
“I think we should. Don’t you?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m ready to go.”
“You sure? With your knee?”
“We can’t wait on my knee to feel better. As I’ve said before, we’d be here forever.”
“Okay then, we depart at first light.”
Abby smiled, though she felt anything but certain about the decision. She was worried about her ability to walk. Would she be able to keep up with Whit and if not, how much would she slow them down? Would it ruin their chances of finding help before they ran out of food?
Whit seemed to read her thoughts. “Try not to worry about it. We’ll just do the best we can, alright? You keep eating that fish and build up your strength.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Whit chuckled. “We’ll be okay, Abby. Mark my words.”
Abby hugged herself, freezing. “I hope so, Whit. But the nights are growing longer and the weather is getting colder.”
“Which is why we’re leaving. We would’ve left sooner if it hadn’t been for Boyd.”
“You think he’ll bother us again?”
“I doubt it. Like you said, winter is fast approaching and he needs shelter.”
“What if he has shelter and he just lied about it like you said?”
Whit’s jaw tensed. “He’s gone, Abby. Don’t worry.” She stood to serve Abby’s half of the fillet in the pot of berries and mushrooms. “Besides, if he were still around he’d have stolen more fish when I went off to search for you today.”
“That’s true.” Abby took the pot. “Don’t you want some?”
“You go ahead. I’ll just work on my fish until you’re done.”
She eased down on the stump and began forking herself some fillet with her knife.
They ate peacefully then, both staring into the fire, watching as the logs crackled and burned and broke apart into glowing orange embers.
Night fully fell, bringing with it a considerable chill and she couldn’t take the feel of the rocks anymore.
“I’m freaking freezing,” she said, trying to remove the bundle. But Whit stood and slid out of her jacket. “Don’t,” she said, resting it on Abby’s shoulders. “Just wear mine for a while.”
“But, Whit, it’s too cold for you to go without your coat.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s more important that we keep that knee cold.”
She returned to the stump and ate more fish.
Abby watched her closely, feeling cared for and protected. Something she hadn’t ever felt with a woman she was interested in.
She considered that as she watched Whit and recalled the way she’d run off without a word and didn’t even realize she’d done it. There was trauma there. Serious trauma. But she wasn’t the only one with deep-seated pain.
Little did Whit know, Abby had her own.