Chapter 9 The Resting Place In quietness and confident trust is your strength…Isaiah 30:15
Mara stood over him, her heart softening at the sight of him. Studying his peaceful expression, she decided he looked even younger when he was sleeping. His face was relaxed, without the tension she'd noted when he frowned or pursed his lips. His hair hung over his forehead on one side and curled just below the back collar of his shirt. His head was tilted at an uncomfortable angle, and she guess that he'd fallen asleep waiting to take his shower. Feeling a little guilty for taking so long, she stared in fascination at him, secretly relishing the chance to really look at him, without him knowing.
She could hear the sound of his even breathing in the quietness of their room. Her eyes were drawn to the base of his throat where his shirt parted, revealing a glimpse of the sparse hair sprinkled over his tanned skin. His sleeves were rolled halfway up, revealing the newly healed scars beneath a light covering of hair. His lips were well sculpted, parted only enough to reveal a glimpse of his amazingly white teeth. She swallowed thickly, telling herself to turn and walk away. She couldn't afford to get too attached to him, even though part of her knew it was too late. She was intrigued by him, and wanted to know everything about him. It was going to be hard to hide her interest from him, especially after she'd blurted out her deepest secret only a few minutes ago.
How on earth could you tell him you didn't trust yourself around him?
He'd asked her to explain herself, which she wasn't about to do. The point was, how could she explain something even she didn't understand? Chiding herself for getting too carried away, she reminded herself that he already had an agenda that did not include her, at least not beyond the point of getting her to a safe place and settled. Sharing her true feelings wouldn't be fair to him, or to herself—they barely knew each other.
Studying the expanse of his shoulders and the splay of fabric covering his thigh, she couldn't understand or help being attracted to him. There was just something about him that drew her more strongly than she'd ever been drawn to anyone, even to Eric. Daniel wasn't her type at all—far too serious, too intense, and definitely not Tall, Dark and Handsome. He was average in height and build, and blonde. Standing over him, she discovered the different layers of color streaks of different shades of his dark blonde hair. And his eyes—just the memory of his dark blue gaze made her shiver inside. Her attraction to him had grown from recognizing his quiet strength, as well as the pain and loneliness she sensed. Then there was the yearning and fire in his eyes that took her breath away. Somehow, she sensed that he needed her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in his reserve. And that was what drew her to him.
Wake up and stop kidding yourself! Better control yourself now, before you have to climb into that huge bed and share it with him…
She turned abruptly, facing the king sized bed that dominated the room, offering rest and relief for their exhaustion. She prayed for the deep sleep of oblivion to overtake her, keep her from doing anything rash or foolish, and hopefully banish the craving she seemed to have for him. She'd read how sleep deprivation made one weak and prone to fantasies—that was what was going on here.
She turned and went back to his side. It was time to wake him—he couldn't sleep there, even though he'd offered to. It just wasn't comfortable enough. Plus he needed a hot shower, clean clothes, and a good 8-10 hours of sleep. She bent to lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Daniel," she called, feeling him tense beneath her touch. He opened his eyes and stared groggily up at her.
"Humh?" he breathed, glancing down her person before pulling himself to a sitting position. "How long was I out?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"You must have fallen asleep while I was in the shower—sorry I took so long."
Putting a hand to his forehead, he massaged it before leaning his arms on his knees. "That's ok..."
"I hated to wake you, but you would have gotten a stiff neck in that position…you ok?"
"Yeah, just a headache," he answered, picking up the water bottle and taking a long drink while she tried not to stare at the way his Adam's apple moved in this throat while he drank.
He lowered the bottle and glanced up, wiping the moisture from his lower lip. "Thanks for waking me."
She dragged her gaze away from his lips. "Shower's great—there's a massage setting that does wonders for a stiff back."
"I'm looking forward to it," he sighed, standing up but swaying a bit. His eyes met hers, then shifted to the damp tendrils of her hair.
She smiled when he met her gaze again, nodded, and started toward the bathroom. He reached out for the door handle, but she noticed he hadn't picked up the new things he'd bought.
"Wait—you forgot your bag," she called, snatching it from the table and handing it to him.
He took it and smiled faintly. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought—thanks."
She smiled back. "Call if you need anything."
"'s fine," he croaked, stepping in and closing the door behind him.
She walked toward the windows, staring out at the view. The afternoon light was nearly blinding, so she drew the curtains, went over to the desk and switched on the lamp. It bathed the room with a soft golden glow, more conducive to sleeping. She put her things into one of the drawers, still in their plastic bags, then folded back the comforter. Plumping the pillows, she climbed onto the high mattress and sank into its pillow-top softness with a contented sigh. Settling into a semi-reclining position, she picked up the remote and switched on the tv. Lowering the volume, she leaned back and pulled the sheet and blanket up to her chest. She could hear the flow of water switch to massage and smiled. With the air conditioning this high, she could bundle under the blankets and forget what it was like to sleep on a hard prison cot, or even pine boughs. The news was filled with disturbing images and propaganda, with no mention of their escape. Satisfied, she switched off the tv and looked around at their temporary oasis, thankful for Daniel's travel money used to cover their expenses.
He stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door halfway behind him as he glanced toward the bed. Mara lay half propped up against the pillows, the television remote at her fingertips. Her eyes were closed, so he went around to her side to study the peaceful expression on her face. He was disappointed that she'd fallen asleep, but the sound of her soft breathing was strangely comforting. He studied the slight curve of her lips and the way her long dark eyelashes touched her cheeks. He'd half expected her to be hyper, the stage beyond exhaustion where you talked too much until sleep overtook you. Apparently she'd been too tired even for that. He'd fallen asleep sitting on the couch, which was unusual for him.
He leaned over to pick up the remote and placed it on the bedside table. Turning off the lamp, he returned to his side of the bed and gently climbed in, watching her face to be sure he didn't wake her. He stretched out and settled beneath the covers, dressed in lightweight sweats and a tee shirt. The mattress enclosed him in comfort, forcing a contented sigh from his lips. He turned his head to study her profile, noting the scooped neck of her thin pink tee shirt. She seemed so far away in the big bed, and despite knowing better he eased closer, turning on his side to face her. Now that his headache was less severe, he would be able to relax. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the soft sound of her breathing and prayed a short prayer of thanksgiving.
When she shifted he opened his eyes, watching her stretch out an arm toward him. He held his breath, noticing a line of tiny markings inside her elbow. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he studied what appeared to be tattoos of some sort. Careful not to awaken her, he shifted to his elbow and looked down, reading the numbers as something dropped in the pit of his stomach. Realization washed over him, but he controlled the flash of anger that hit him and moved away. Shifting to his back, he threw an arm over his forehead, wondering how they'd gotten there and how he'd missed seeing them before. His thoughts scattered over different possibilities, but exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, demanding sleep. He closed his eyes, set aside all his questions and released himself to sleep. After a minute or two he felt a wave of exhaustion begin to unfurl over him, rolling up his body and churning over the top of his head as it finally claimed him.
Mara removed the items from the cardboard tray, listening to the sound of the bolt sliding back into place. He turned from the door and came back toward her, holding her gaze as he planted his hands on his hips and watched her uncover the food.
"Sit," she ordered, uncapping his coffee and watching as he slid stiffly onto the chair. He hands encircled the paper cup and he leaned over it, breathing in its steamy fragrance.
"You didn't have to do this," he said in a gravely voice, studying her over the rim of the cup after she'd sat down opposite him.
Lifting her cup, she took a few sips of her mocha latte. "I got restless," she admitted, picking up her egg and cheese muffin and sinking her teeth into it. Melted cheddar slid over her teeth as she suppressed a sigh of pleasure.
He picked his up and bit into it, waving it toward her after he'd chewed and swallowed a bite. "Don't go out again without me," he ordered, settling back into his chair and waiting for her objection. "But this is great—thanks."
She grinned slyly. "Glad you like it…and, since we're giving orders, stop ordering me around."
He swallowed and relished the sight of her eating with gusto. "You do realize that we're wanted criminals on the run."
She sniffed, taking another sip of coffee. "I didn't see anything in the newspaper or witness our mug shots all over cable TV news."
He took another drink of the coffee she'd brought him. "That doesn't mean they're not looking for us."
"You worry too much," she said sweetly, "or, as someone once said, watch too many horror movies…"
He met her challenging look, enjoying their banter tremendously. They both remembered him telling her that in the cave. "The wilderness is a lot safer than the city."
She sighed dramatically. "Ok, I promise not to go out of the building without my bodyguard," she stated, crossing her heart. "But you were sleeping so well, I didn't have the heart to wake you."
He nodded. "Thanks for that," he admitted, draining his cup.
"Next time it's your turn to bring me breakfast—in bed."
As soon as she'd said that last word she realized her error. His eyes blazed darker than she'd ever seen them, giving her the distinct feeling that he was picturing the same thing as she was. Quickly gathering the wrappers, she balled them into a wad and stuffed it into the paper bag, which she wadded up and shot into the wastebasket. He noticed, but recaptured her gaze.
"Nice shot," he said in a husky voice, eyes still holding hers.
The timbre of his voice skittered over her nerves, but she picked up her coffee and quickly changed the subject. "So, what's on the agenda today? How many kilometers are you planning to log as we head 'East'?"
He stretched back in his chair with a sigh. "None—I think we should lay low another day."
"But I thought you were in a hurry to leave."
"I am, once I'm sure it's safe to go. First we need to get some camping gear."
"Then let's go," she said, getting up.
"Please, just sit for a minute?" he asked quietly, his gaze intensifying.
She studied his pained expression. "What's wrong? Your headache back?"
"No, I'm fine," he said, his eyes darting to her chair. "Please?"
Here it comes—the part where he explains why we need to go our separate ways…
She slowly sat down, folding her hands in her lap and dreading the inevitable. She knew she'd made the right decision by trying to keep her distance. "Ok, what's on your mind?" she asked as calmly as possible.
His eyes drilled into hers, then shifted to her arms. "What are those numbers on your arm?"
She felt the color drain from her face but smiled brightly. "Oh, nothing."
"I need to know, Mara."
She shrugged. "Why so serious?"
He studied her a moment, then sat back in his chair and waited, as if he had all day. After a moment she realized he was waiting for an explanation, despite the fact that she did not want to discuss it.
"It's no big deal."
"I disagree."
She studied him a moment. "Why are you acting like this?"
"Tell me."
She blew out a frustrated sigh. "Haven't you seen Holscomb's numbers before?"
His expression was guarded. "After they discharged me from the infirmary and tortured me, I was kept in solitary, so no—I haven't."
"It was just his idea of a joke, a sick one, granted. He was so excited about them, it was almost funny."
"When did he do it?"
"Right after I arrived. Dale even took photographs for their records—you know, barcodes instead of chips?"
He pursed his lips. "Go on."
She threw up her hands. "What are you, against tattoos? I didn't think you were that religious."
"I'm not, but we need to have them removed."
"Are you crazy?" she gasped. "That kind of exposure is too risky!"
"We can bribe someone to do it, keep it quiet. And it's worth the risk."
She ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know," she worried. "You know, they only spared you because of the injuries to your arms."
Daniel held her gaze. "As long as you have them, you're branded."
"I can hide them—you never noticed them before, did you?"
"No, but—"
"Then why bother? Besides, they make me feel kind of special."
He leaned toward her. "They look just like the numbers used in the camps."
She stared at him, her fear growing. "No one really knows if that was really practiced, those records were destroyed years ago."
He eyes bored into hers. "I know—I've seen them."
"Where? How could you? You know what? Never mind—and you're blowing this all out of proportion."
"I'm not—I've seen them, and dreamed of them."
She waved a hand. "Dreams aren't very reliable. They're just a way of processing fears. It's actually healthy for the mind to do that."
"I wasn't sleeping."
She studied him a moment, realization dawning. "Daydreams? Same thing."
"No, I mean I've seen them."
"You mean—are you trying to tell me you have visions?" she whispered.
His jaw tightened and he looked away.
"Because if you are, then we have an even bigger problem than my numbers...Daniel?"
"I shouldn't have said anything."
She sighed in frustration. "Dreaming about them would explain why you thrash and moan in your sleep."
He looked at her then. "What? I do? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you're quiet enough about it—"
He sat straighter, his expression alarmed. "When did this happen?"
"Once, when you were in the ER—"
"That's different—I was delirious."
"And once in the cave," she answered, watching him sit back, stunned.
"It only lasted for a minute or two each time."
He looked up, his brow furrowed. "This is worse than I thought."
"Ok, look, even if you are having them," she reasoned, "it's for a good reason—to warn and protect."
"No, if anyone hears me, or finds out—"
"Who's gonna find out?" she croaked, glancing toward the door. "Anyway, maybe I can help."
He looked doubtful. "How, by muzzling me? Slapping me to wake me up?"
"Or finding some other way to cover it up…" Her words trailed off as she pictured how she might do that.
He stared at her as if realizing the same thing. His gaze touched her lips and a jolt of awareness leapt between them.
To break the spell, she got up, smoothing her hands down her sides. "I think we're both getting way too paranoid…I need some fresh air."
He watched her get a sweater from the bureau and sighed in resignation. "Maybe you're right," he admitted, standing to face her as she returned.
"Of course I'm right," she smiled, happy to see his concern vanish.
"Let's get out of here," he agreed, tilting his head at her puzzled expression. "What?"
"Ok, boss," she retorted, gently patting his chest before she turned toward the door.
"Very funny," he said, picking up the room key. "Let's go burn off some caffeine."
Daniel tightened the belt of his backpack, glancing over at her. She was struggling under the weight of hers, now that they'd loaded them up for their journey. Bending her knees and bracing her hands around the shoulder straps, she grimaced.
"I don't think I can do this," she cautioned. "It's pretty heavy, just standing here. I can't imagine hiking up the side of a mountain with it."
He stepped closer, reaching for her belt as she lifted her hands in surrender. "You tighten this just enough to lift the weight off your shoulders." He pulled it tighter as she covered his hands with hers.
"And onto my hips instead?" she said doubtfully.
He planted his hands on his hips. "How's that?"
She tested it a bit, frowning. "I'm going to hold you back, you know."
"Don't sell yourself short," he insisted. "You'll get used to it. Anyone who can hike in slippers across territory like you've covered can do it. Besides, we'll be following the road most of the way, and it's all downhill from here."
She looked up at him, not convinced. "You really think I can do it?"
He nodded. "I know you can."
"Well, these boots should help," she sighed, gazing down at her new above-ankle boots and heavy socks.
"I'll redistribute things and take some of your stuff," he promised. "But we need to carry the same provisions in case we get separated."
Her eyes filled with concern. "We can't get separated—not for any reason!"
"Don't worry, we've got each other's back."
"I mean it Daniel—we have to stick together, no matter what."
He set his pack on the floor as she removed hers. "This, coming from a woman who single-handedly broke out of a federated prison…" he stated, shaking his head.
"But I had you with me!"
"You could have done it without me."
She crossed her arms, watching him transfer some of the water bottles from her pack to his. "Promise me you won't split us up."
He paused, looking up. "I have no intention of doing that. But things can happen…"
"You did tell me that once we got to the big city, we'd part ways," she reminded him.
He looked up again, holding her gaze. "That was before," he said softly.
She swallowed, holding his gaze. "Before what?"
He returned his attention to his pack. "I think you know."
"What do I know?"
He set aside the pack and stood to face her, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I was going to wait until we got to Missoula before we discuss this…"
She stared up at him, "Discuss what?"
He dropped his hand. "I think we should get married—it will make it easier to stay together and I'll be better able to protect you."
Her eyes widened. "Married?" she squeaked.
He felt the specter of rejection looming over him, but forged onward. He'd spent hours praying about it, and felt this was the way to go. "Look I know I'm doing this all wrong, but—"
She lurched toward him, throwing her arms around his neck with a little cry of disbelief. He caught her, lifting her up as she gripped his shoulders and hugged him close.
"I can't believe it!" she croaked, bestowing kisses on him as he lowered her back down.
He reached up to take her hands, pulling them down as he studied her carefully. "Is that a yes?"
"I think so—no, of course it's a yes," she answered. "I just never expected—"
"I'll make it up to you, with a ring and on bended knee—"
"No, you won't," she insisted, gripping his arms. "This is good—it's real. I just thought you wanted us to get to know each other better."
"We don't have time for that, and I think I know enough," he told her. "I was more concerned about rushing you, after what you went through with Erik."
She closed her eyes a moment. "Please don't mention him again, ok?"
He looked into the dark green lustre of her eyes, then raised a hand to cup her cheek. "Ok…you sure about this?"
She nodded. "As sure as I can be," she breathed. "I do trust you, Daniel."
"Good," he breathed, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. She sighed, closing her eyes. He pulled her closer, slipping his hand into her hair. She smelled so good, and her lips were soft and tempting. He felt her hands creep up his chest, then one circled the back of his neck. They experimented with tentative kisses, purposefully holding back as they acquainted themselves with each other. When he drew back, she rested her cheek over his heart, holding him close.
"Now what?" she finally said, pulling back to look up at him.
He bent to kiss her once again, fingering a tendril of her hair. "Well, we could jump into bed and call it a day," he suggested, lifting one brow as he studied her expression.
She glanced toward the bed. "That would be nice," she sighed, looking up at him with a faint smile. "But… maybe a little premature?"
He nodded, pulling her close as he threw back his head. "I think you're right."
"At least in comparison to courtship," she added.
"No, you're right," he reluctantly agreed, steeling himself from her touch. She was gently combing her fingers into his hair, which frankly was driving him crazy. "Although…"
She met his kiss with a smile. "But this isn't bad either," she sighed, leaning into him as he tightened his grip on her. Finally he dropped his head to her shoulder.
"We should stop," he sighed, breathing against the tender skin at the base of her neck. She shivered a little, lowering her hands down his back.
"Yeah, we should," she sighed, stroking up his back in a slow, torturous tease. Neither of them moved for a few more moments, then he reluctantly disengaged himself.
She let him take her hand between his and kiss her knuckles. His eyes told her how much he cherished her, then he cleared his throat.
"Ah, I think I need some fresh air," he choked.
"But we just got back," she sighed, leaning against the bureau. Her eyes ate him up, and he could only take so much.
"I won't be long," he reassured her. "Hold that thought," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
She watched him to go the door, smiling when he turned back a moment. "Oh I will…"
After two hours he slipped back inside the room, which was dark and still. He knew it was better this way—it was too soon for them to share anything beyond what they'd already shared. He hadn't expected to be so weak in his resolve to hold off being intimate with her. But her response was more than he could have hoped for, despite everything she'd been through. She wanted him, maybe as much as he wanted her. That had been very clear, and it had compelled him to get out of there before he did something they might both regret.
Now, standing over her and watching her sleep, he felt the warmth of contentment spread through him. Slowly pulling off his jacket, he draped it over the chair at his side. Then he sat in it, drinking in the sight of her as she slept. And remembering their first night, sleeping together in the cave, cuddled close for warmth. Things had certainly changed since them.
Wearily easing off his boots, he quietly got up and went into the bathroom to relieve himself and wash up before he joined her. Tomorrow they would check out and head toward Missoula to the east. They would get a license and look for a justice of the peace, then he planned on a quiet dinner and making it the most memorable night of their lives before they had to continue on. He thought of his grandfather and the safe deposit box held for him in New York. Was he wrong to assume Mara would agree to his plan?
As he carefully climbed into bed, he settled on his side and studied her face in the dim light from the bathroom, shining in through the cracked open door. Closing his eyes, he prayed for direction and for wisdom to be able to handle all that he'd planned to do within the next few weeks.
Mara recapped her water bottle, hardly believing the sight before them. She glanced over at Daniel, whose mouth was set in a grim line. He glanced toward her, huffing out a frustrated sigh. She knew the threat of the unexpected was real, but the situation in Missoula was beyond anything they could have imagined. It threw a giant wrench in their plans.
"We've got no other choice but to go through," he decided, glancing at her and waiting for her response.
She nodded. "Assuming we can get through."
"The main thing is to keep quiet, and stick together," he said quietly.
"Ok," she agreed, tucking her water bottle back into the side pocket of her pack. "Let's go."
They'd hiked hard for three days, falling exhausted onto their sleeping bags each night, too tired to even speak more than a few sentences to each other. Sleeping, staying warm, eating, and trying to keep reasonably clean took all their energy. Gone was the first bloom of romance exchanged that last night in their hotel. Now, she sometimes wondered if she'd imagined it. The rigors of hiking had taken a toll on both of them, and the realities of the outside world had crashed down hard upon them. They barely spoke, and she suspected Daniel spent most of his time praying. Which was good. They needed it.
The roads leading east were filled with hitchhikers, bikers, truckers and dozens of scattered people on foot, all carrying whatever baggage they owned and all in pursuit of some kind of future. Many of them were refugees from the Northwest, where the situation was being handled but slowly. Martial law had been declared, and the clean-up was underway, but the tsunami had robbed so many of their homes and livelihood. They were all refugees, suffering different degrees of loss and desperation. Which was why they stayed to the ridges and forests, keeping careful watch and focused on avoiding any contact with anyone.
The sight of Missoula surrounded by tent cities was more than they'd anticipated, and it looked like there were checkpoints in and out of the city. They would need identification to get in, that much they could count on, but they had nothing to show, real or fake. Daniel had told her about his suspicion that they couldn't be the only ones, and that the government had to have some temporary solution or concession in place to handle the problem. She'd worked with FEMA in the past in a few different crises, but nothing of this magnitude. The fact that there was a military presence attested to the reality that there was at least some order and process in place. They would just have to try to fit in and manage the best they could. One good thing was that, despite being escaped prisoners, they could blend in with the rest of the displaced and hopefully not to attract any attention.