The Sacrifice (48 page)

Scott stared at the few remaining red-and-orange embers of their campfire. On the other side of the fire was the dark silhouette of Kay's tent. He couldn't tell if she'd zipped up the front flap over the screen mesh or not. Probably did. A closed tent gave a false sense of security— a black bear looking for food wouldn't knock and ask permission before trying to stick his nose inside. But then, Kay's greatest enemy was not the unseen adolescent black bear prowling on the ridge a half-mile north of their campsite—the thoughts inside Scott's head were a more immediate threat.

He sat motionless, struggling with how to respond. An increasing part of him wanted to see if he could share her tent for the night. His attraction to her was already stronger than any he'd had for a woman in years, and his fear of making a mistake in love was not the uppermost thought in his mind. He listened again to the calls of the katydids, each one making as raucous a sound as possible. Scott knew their motivation. Katydids didn't sing out of vanity or the love of music. They raised their cry in the night because they desperately wanted to attract a suitor from across the clearing. But the longings of the human heart are not as simple to define as a katydid's call, and Scott didn't know what response to expect from the other side of the dying campfire.

Ever since Kay had reentered his life he'd tried not to push too far past the barrier of friendship. Intellectually, he knew that what he told Perry Dixon in the male-only atmosphere of the gym was right, and even though the legal “wall” of her marriage was down, Kay needed time to process the final ending of her relationship with Jake. However, like the katydids in the dark night, Scott saw the passage of time as an enemy. Tonight was a lost opportunity. A small piece of unburned wood on the edge of the fire flared up. Scott was a man; Kay was a beautiful woman. The close contact they'd had all day had caused desire to flame up within him. He stood up, startling Nicky who jumped awake.

But Scott didn't take a step toward Kay's tent. His code of honor reared its head and reminded him that he'd promised her safety. He didn't know whether to resent the code or be thankful for it. Maybe someday they would share a tent, but not yet. Kay's heart and his hormones were not in sync. He took a deep breath of cool night air, leaned over, and patted Nicky on the head.

“Remind me not to bring a girl dog on a camping trip,” he said. “I wouldn't want to put you through the torture.”

Nicky stretched out and yawned.

“Let's get in our tent.”

The little dog followed his master to the tent and fell asleep with his back against Scott's feet.

Scott was up and had a small fire crackling when Kay stuck her head out into the cool morning air. Her hair was disheveled, and she blinked her eyes against the smoke that suddenly shifted in her direction. Scott was squatting beside the fire, carefully laying larger twigs into the center of the flames. He turned toward her.

“Good morning,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

“Right.” Kay ran her hand through her hair until it got stuck in an unyielding tangle. “I'd stick my tongue out at you, but I'm afraid what might be on it.”

“Some fresh coffee will take care of that. I'll have some ready in a few minutes.”

Kay looked toward the stream. Mist was rising along the edge of the water.

“What time is it?”

Scott glanced toward the sky. “Daytime. Night is over. Remember, we're using a camping clock without numbers.”

She yawned without covering her mouth. Her head disappeared inside the tent and the zipper went back up. Scott heard various unidentifiable sounds coming from the tent for the next few minutes and had the coffeepot close to boiling when a more orderly Kay Laramie, her hair in a ponytail, opened the door of her tent and stuck her feet outside while she put on her shoes.

“Is the hot water ready?” she asked.

“Almost.”

Kay stood up and stretched her arms. “That's not enough for my bath.”

“Splash your face in the stream a few times. It's so refreshing you'll forget about hot water. How do you want your coffee?”

“With lots of cream and sugar.”

By the time she returned, Scott had the coffee ready. He'd lined a backpacking skillet with pieces of thick bacon and mixed a half-dozen eggs together in a large plastic cup. Kay's cheeks were pink and drops of water were dripping from the edges of her hair.

“How was it?” he asked.

“You lied. It was so cold all I could think about was hot water.”

He handed her a Styrofoam cup of light brown liquid. He'd made it weak with lots of creamer from a baggie and a packet of sugar.

“Here's your coffee. Maybe that will help. Breakfast happens fast over an open fire.”

He fried the bacon and wrapped it in aluminum foil to keep it warm while he scrambled the eggs. It was all done in a few minutes, and he handed a plate to Kay.

“Can I pray?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Kay closed her eyes. “Father, thank you for this day and this place you've created. Thank you for Scott and the friend and protector he has been to me. And thanks for this breakfast. Amen.”

Scott took a bite of egg and bacon together. It was perfect.

He swallowed and asked, “Why did you call me a protector in your prayer?”

Kay sipped her coffee. “You've been a safe man for me to be around the past few months when I could have gotten into trouble with someone else. You protected me from myself and any predatory males.”

“Oh,” Scott said, sheepishly remembering his internal debate of the previous night. He was a less noble knight than Kay suspected.

“I feel great this morning,” she said.

Scott kept eating his eggs and bacon. He wasn't sure what he felt, but the breakfast was very good.

When they finished eating, Scott used his miracle green soap to clean the pots and pans. While he was crouching down at the edge of the water, two fishermen walked into the clearing. Nicky barked until Scott told him to be quiet. Kay was inside her tent. The men nodded to Scott and went upstream to the large pool. They cast lines across the pool and in a few minutes deposited three fish in their creels. They moved up to the smaller pool beneath the waterfall, and after each losing a lure, they left the clearing. Scott's best fish was safe for another day.

Nicky ran over to the door of Kay's tent and scratched until she zipped it open, and he hopped inside. Scott's frustration was past, and he laughed at the little dog's success. In a few minutes, they emerged. Kay was wearing a sky-blue T-shirt with a picture of a hummingbird on the front and a pair of old gray shorts.

“When will it warm up?” she asked, rubbing her arms.

Scott looked up at the sky. The sun was gaining momentum in its upward journey.

“Soon. It's going to be a clear day. Can you get those clothes wet?”

“Why? Are you going to throw me in the water?”

“No, I'm thinking ahead to the day's activities.”

“Should I put on a bathing suit?”

“Yes, underneath your clothes.”

Kay disappeared for a minute before reemerging. “Okay, I'm ready for anything.”

“Let's go.”

The top flap of Scott's backpack could be detached and used as a fanny pack. Carrying a couple of bottles of water, a few granola bars, and the camera, they took a trail that climbed steeply away from the stream, crossed a ridge, then descended back down to a place where the water rushed thirty feet down a rockface into a deep pool.

“Behold sliding rock,” Scott announced grandly.

“How deep is the water at the bottom?”

“Deep enough. The danger is at the top. I've come here with friends after we've had too many beers and had problems getting off to a good start. It's not much fun going down backwards when you can't position yourself to miss that boulder on the side.” He pointed to a large rock on the far side of the smooth surface.

“Ouch.”

“Don't worry, I'll show you how to do it without danger.”

Scott was wearing an old pair of cutoff jeans. He took off his shoes, socks, and shirt. He carefully walked into the stream until he was almost to the middle. Sitting down he scooted forward.

“This is the ideal beginning point!” he shouted.

He pushed himself forward then slid rapidly down the face of the rock into the pool. He disappeared for a second, then stood to his feet.

The water came up to the middle of his chest. He shook the water from his hair and smiled. Nicky barked excitedly from the bank.

“It's brisk!”

“Are you going to do it again?” Kay asked.

Scott looked puzzled. “Anyone who takes the trouble to find this place stays until they wear a hole in their blue jeans.”

He walked to the bank. There were some moss-covered rocks that made getting out less treacherous than expected. He walked up the trail to the top and repeated his slide to the bottom.

“Ready?” he asked when he reached the bank the second time.

“I guess.”

Kay followed him up the path. He held her hand and guided her to the takeoff spot. It appeared higher getting ready to go down than looking up. She nervously got in position, and he gave her a gentle push. The ride was a blur, but the shock of the water at the bottom was unforgettable.

She came up screaming.

“It's freezing!”

“Only for a second!” Scott called out. “Move over, I'm coming down.”

Scott lay down on his stomach and went down face first into the water.

“Don't expect me to do that,” Kay said when they were standing on the bank.

“No pressure. But I bet you're hooked.”

“Maybe a few more times.”

They didn't stay until Scott wore a hole in his shorts, but Kay lost track of the times she zipped down the rockface and splashed into the pool. They took half a roll of pictures. When they finished, they sat on a sunny rock eating granola bars.

They returned over the hill to their campsite. Scott looked at the sky.

“It's time to start back.”

Kay cleared out her tent, and Scott efficiently broke camp. He was intent on his task and didn't notice the way Kay watched him. When he finished, they put on their backpacks and retraced their steps up the trail.

Scott took the lead when the trail was narrow. They walked side by side when it broadened. Nicky, now used to the exotic smells, plodded along without bothering to use his energy exploring. The last leg of the hike was downhill, and they covered it in half the time it took them to hike up the previous day.

“Downhill is better,” Kay remarked.

“I always like a trip where the last stretch is the easiest.”

They returned to the parking lot where Scott took another photograph.

“I take a posthike shot to make sure I didn't lose anyone.”

On the ride back to Catawba, Kay talked and talked for the first hour.

She had a lot of questions about other places Scott had visited in the mountains. After they left the winding roads, her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell asleep. They were nearing Catawba when she woke up.

“Are we almost home?” she asked.

“Yes. It won't be long.”

Kay closed her eyes in contentment. “Hot water!”

38

You know my methods,Watson.

S
HERLOCK
H
OLMES

M
onday morning Scott wrote the available background information about cousin Kendall on two lines at the top of a legal pad: “Kendall - cousin of Lester Garrison - from South Carolina - in Blanchard County on the date of the incident at Hall's Chapel Church - dark hair.”

Scott assumed Kendall's last name might be Garrison. He did an Internet search for any Kendall Garrisons in South Carolina and came up empty. He then wondered if the name was spelled differently. He typed in Kendell Garrison and scored two hits, both in the Orangeburg, South Carolina, area. Locating the phone number for one of them, he dialed it. A lady with a distinct African-American accent answered the phone.

“I'm trying to locate Kendell Garrison,” Scott said.

“Both junior and senior are at work. Do you want to leave a message?”

“No, ma'am. Thank you.”

Scott hung up. The Kendell Garrisons of Orangeburg, South Carolina, didn't fit the profile. Lester's cousin had dark hair, not a dark face.

Scott tried other more unusual spellings without success. He was about to give up when he had an idea. He looked at the clock. Lester was still at school. Hopefully, Harold was out on the road. Scott dialed the Garrison's phone number. Thelma answered on the fifth ring.

“Hello,” the old woman said.

In the enthusiastic voice he used when selling kitchen knives, Scott asked, “May I speak to Kendall?”

“Kendall? He don't live here.”

“I'm sorry to bother you. How can I reach him?”

“At his house in Gaffney.”