The Night Mark(72)

He took a step back and looked her up and down. With his index finger he made a little circle in the air, and Faye turned around with a heavy, put-upon sigh.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“They’re different.”

“Women will be wearing pants all the time everywhere eventually,” she said. In a decade or two or three, but definitely eventually. “I’m sure of it.”

“They’re very...” Carrick paused. “Revealing.”

“Revealing? These pants that cover me from waist to foot are revealing? You do remember the night you got me out of my wet clothes? All my wet clothes?”

“That’s different. That was a rescue. This is... I can see your shape in them. Your hips, and that sort of thing.”

“You already know what shape I am.”

“True, but it’s different seeing you like this. I think...”

“What?” she demanded sharply.

“I think I like them.”

Faye laughed, and Carrick kissed her. A quick kiss from a scared man who knew a big, bad storm was coming, and if they didn’t kiss now they might not ever get to kiss again. Faye returned the kiss with ardor, with hunger, forgetting, as she was wont to do, that she wasn’t supposed to kiss this man any more than he was supposed to kiss her.

Faye heard a sound. A loud gasp followed by a tiny, stricken cry. She turned her head and saw Dolly in the doorway staring at her and Carrick in horror.

“Shit,” Faye said.

“Faith!” Carrick said, aghast.

Dolly turned on her heel and ran out, horrified by what she’d thought she’d seen.

“I’ll go get her,” Faye said.

“What are you going to tell her?” Carrick grabbed a shirt out of his closet and pulled it on. He buttoned it up quickly and followed her out the door.

“I don’t know. But let me handle it.”

“Go. But hurry. This storm is kicking up fast.”

“We’ll be right back, I promise.” She kissed him one more time because she just had to, then ran out the front door. Carrick hadn’t been kidding. The sky darkened as she ran down the beach, and the wind blew hard enough to turn the water white. Thankfully Dolly had run down the beach instead of into the forest. Faye saw her ahead running pell-mell into the wind. Good thing Faye had her pants on. No way could she catch up with those long teenage legs otherwise. Faye reached out and grabbed Dolly’s arm. Dolly gasped and spun around, struggling against her.

“Please,” Faye mouthed, hoping Dolly could read that word on her lips. “Please...”

Dolly stopped trying to run away. She put her hands over her face and shook her head. A sound came from the back of her throat, a guttural moan of sorrow. Poor girl. What she must think of them...

Faye dropped to her knees, and Dolly looked at her, stunned. In the sand Faye wrote a single word with her finger.

Watch.

Dolly waved her hand, a dismissive “go ahead, see if I care” gesture.

Faye cut right to the chase. “Chief isn’t my father or my stepfather.”

Dolly’s eyes widened as she read the words.

“I ran away from home,” Faye wrote. She hoped that was close enough to the truth.

Dolly dropped down onto her knees in the sand.

“Why?”

“I’m hiding here.”

“He’s not your pa?”

“No.”

“You his wife?”

“Another man’s wife,” Faye wrote. “An evil man.”

Dolly shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes. “It’s not right.”

“I know.” Faye scribbled as quickly as she could. The wind picked up, blowing her words away. “I’m sorry.”

Dolly stuck her finger into the sand and wrote a question Faye didn’t think she could answer yet.

“You love Chief?”

Faye stared at the question. Before she could answer it, a wave hit the beach so hard it slammed into them both washing all their words away.

Lightning cracked the sky wide-open. Thunder exploded like an atom bomb in the air. Even Dolly felt it and jumped. Grabbing Dolly by the arm, Faye pulled her toward the house. The ocean was roiling now, bubbling as wildly as a pan of water on high boil. Again and again waves slammed the shore, climbing higher every second. Running on hard wet sand was faster and easier than trying to wade through loose dry sand, so they skirted the waves as they raced back toward the house. Easier wasn’t safer, however, and when the wind struck them again, Dolly was blown facedown into the sand. She came up howling and weeping, sand in her eyes, blood trickling out of her nose. In pain and unable to see or hear, she stumbled toward the water. Faye raced after her, pulling the terrified girl close and guiding her down the beach again. Sandy tears streamed out of Dolly’s eyes. Faye looked up and saw Carrick running toward them. Before he could reach them, another wave struck, and the ocean dragged Dolly into the water with greedy arms.

“Dolly!” Faye screamed, forgetting the girl couldn’t hear her. She ran into the water and tugged Dolly free from the grip of the current. Carrick arrived just in time to lift Dolly, sodden heavy skirts and all, out of the water. He set her down gently higher up on the dune before running back for Faye. He reached for her, and Faye reached for him. As their hands met, a current caught her by the legs and ripped her out of his grip, shoving her under the surface. She struggled against the waves, which tossed her like a chew toy in a dog’s mouth. Even under the water, she heard Carrick calling for her, screaming for her, and she wanted him. She wanted him so much, but she just couldn’t make her way to the surface.