Secret Passage Page 8

  Zac intended to pay her back, but he had to be careful. He didn’t want to arouse suspicions by being too generous with his counterfeit ration coupons, nor did he want to raise Betty’s hopes that there could ever be anything other than friendship between them. She was a nice girl, attractive and bright, but he wasn’t there to get involved with the locals. He wasn’t there to get involved with anyone, he reminded himself as he turned to Camille.

  She smiled.

  “There will be temptations, but you must resist them. At any cost.”

  He turned quickly back to the lake. Behind him, she said, “I suppose I should do something about dinner. Are you hungry?”

  He was, in fact. “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. You should probably lie down and rest for a while. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  He turned back to her. “But I have to earn my keep, remember?”

  “Oh, you will,” she promised. “And then some.”

  CAMILLE WAS GLAD that Zac wasn’t around to see her struggle with the meal preparations. She still wasn’t used to the oven, which was gas and had to be lit with a match, or the lack of modern conveniences such as mixers and blenders and food processors. There was a refrigerator, however, with old-fashioned rounded corners, and the stove itself was really quite beautiful with its curved legs and hand-painted porcelain.

  Like everyone else, Camille relied heavily on canned goods, including meat, but tonight she’d splurged on a chicken which she intended to roast and serve with new potatoes and homemade biscuits.

  Shedding her jacket, she rolled up her sleeves, kicked off her shoes and set to work. While the chicken and potatoes roasted in the oven, she measured out flour, baking powder, milk and Crisco—packaged in glass rather than tin—then kneaded the mixture until she had the desired consistency. Next she rolled out the dough and, using the top of a fruit jar, cut out the biscuits. She greased the pan and placed the bread in the oven to bake.

  The thermostat on the oven didn’t seem to work so she had to hover nearby, checking constantly to make sure nothing burned. By the time the meal was finished, she was covered in flour and her face was flushed from the heat. Placing the biscuits in a basket and the chicken and vegetables on a platter, she left everything on top of the stove to stay warm while she went to freshen up.

  Pinning up her hair, she splashed cold water on her hot face and neck, then changed out of her skirt and blouse into a thin cotton dress.

  Emerging from the bathroom, she walked back into the kitchen and glanced toward the porch. She hadn’t heard a peep out of Zac since she’d left him earlier. If he was napping, she hated to wake him, but the food would soon be cold if she didn’t.

  Hesitating for only a moment, she went over and put her ear to the curtain, listening for signs of life. When she heard nothing, she called softly, “Zac? Dinner’s ready.”

  When there was still no answer, she drew back the curtain and peered inside. He was lying on the bed, presumably asleep, but he looked so still that, for a moment, Camille’s heart stopped. Then she saw the rise and fall of his chest, and she drew a breath of her own.

  Crossing the room to the bed, she gently shook his shoulder. “Zac? Are you okay?”

  His eyes flew open, and before Camille knew what was happening, he’d grabbed her arms and pulled her down on him. Then he reversed their positions until he was lying over her, his knee pressed into her abdomen, his hand around her throat.

  Chapter Seven

  He released her almost instantly and Camille scrambled away from him, clutching her throat as she got to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He looked horrified as he stood. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was just a reflex.”

  “A reflex?”

  “I was asleep.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You startled me awake. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said again.

  He looked so contrite and puzzled by his own actions that Camille’s anger faded. She’d seen a similar reaction in him before, and had learned early in their relationship not to come up behind him or awaken him abruptly. His reflexes were almost superhuman, and, once upon a time, she’d too easily cast aside the reality of just how dangerous he could be. But she remembered it now.

  She was suddenly aware of a lot of things about Zac Riley. The past that lay between them. The fact that he was shirtless.

  His muscles gleamed in the late-afternoon light, and, in spite of herself, Camille’s gaze slipped over him.

  She remembered how he’d looked gazing down at her, his body moving against hers. In those long, dark nights they’d spent together, he’d taken her closer to paradise than any man ever had, and those memories had kept Camille awake on more nights that she cared to remember.

  Her gaze lifted, and something sparked in Zac’s eyes. An acknowledgment of the attraction that was as keen and deadly as summer lightning.

  Slowly, he reached for his shirt. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It was a little warm in here earlier.”

  It was even warmer now, his eyes told her. Camille tore her gaze from his. “You don’t have to apologize. This is your room. You can do what you want in here. Within reason,” she felt compelled to add.

  He grinned. “You mean no female guests after midnight?”

  Camille wasn’t amused. The thought of Zac and another woman was an image that had haunted her for years. But he didn’t know that, of course.

  “I came to tell you that dinner is ready,” she said stiffly.

  “I’ll be right there.” He slipped on his shirt. “Just give me a minute to freshen up.”

  “Sure.” At the curtain, Camille glanced over her shoulder. Zac was buttoning his shirt, and he paused, his gaze lifting to hers. For a moment, it seemed to Camille that time stood still, then the world began to turn again, and she hurried through the curtain.

  ZAC WALKED INTO the tiny kitchen to find Camille chipping away at a block of ice in the sink. “I’ve made lemonade,” she said. “Though I’m afraid it’ll be a little on the tart side, what with the sugar shortage and all. But at least it’ll be cold. That is, if I can get enough ice chipped off here.”

  “Here, let me have a go at it.” Zac walked over to the sink. To his surprise, she relinquished the ice pick without argument. She even turned her back to check on the food. That took some courage after what had just happened between them in the bedroom.

  Or maybe she knew she wasn’t the one in danger, Zac thought, his earlier doubts coming back to him.

  He dismissed them.

  Easy enough to do with the way she looked this evening. The heat only enhanced her natural beauty. Earlier, in her prim and proper suit, she’d seemed remote and unattainable, but now with her hair pinned up and her skin shimmering, she looked sexy as hell.

  When she caught him staring at her, she turned quickly back to the stove, obviously flustered by something she saw in his eyes. “I…thought we could eat on the front porch.” She brushed back her hair with the back of her hand. “It’ll be a little cooler out there.”

  “Sounds good,” Zac agreed. He helped her carry everything out and only when they were seated, watching the sun set over the lake, did she seem to relax.

  “This has to be one of the most beautiful spots on earth,” she said softly.

  “And to think, some people don’t even know this place exists.”

  She glanced at him. “How about you? Have you ever been in this part of the country before…Mr. Riley?”

  “You called me Zac earlier.”

  “I thought you were asleep,” she accused.

  “I was, but I thought I heard my name just before I woke up. At any rate, please call me Zac. It seems only right, now that we’re living together.”

  She frowned. “You’re leasing a room from me. I think the distinction is important. At least to my reputation.”

  “Of course,” he agreed easily. “But you have to admit, these are strange times. A week ago, we didn’
t even know each other, and now here we are….” He trailed off on a shrug. Lifting his glass, he reached over and clinked it against hers. “To victory,” he said.

  Was it his imagination, or did she hesitate before she lifted her glass and returned the salute. “To victory,” she murmured.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, then she said nonchalantly, “You never answered my question. Have you been here before?”

  “Once, a long time ago.”

  “You have…ties here?”

  What was she after? he wondered. He glanced up. “I told you in the hospital, I came here looking for a job.”

  “Behind the fence.”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of work do you do?” Her gaze met his then flickered away, as if she was afraid she might give herself away.

  “I’ve done a little bit of everything including construction, but I’m open to new possibilities.” He took a sip of the tart lemonade. “Did you mean what you said about speaking to someone on my behalf?”

  When she hesitated, he quickly said, “Of course, you’ve already done enough. Giving me a place to stay is more than I could have hoped for.”

  Something dark flickered in her eyes, something that drew a shiver up Zac’s backbone. “I didn’t do it out of the goodness of my soul. I expect to be repaid.”

  Yes, and that’s what worries me.

  What, exactly, did she want from him?

  AFTER THE DISHES WERE DONE and the leftovers put away, they took a stroll down by the lake. By this time, only a pale shimmer remained of the sunset and dusk fell gently over the countryside. With the twilight came a breeze off the water and a melancholy that tugged at Camille’s heart.

  She missed her grandfather although he was only a few miles away. She missed Zac although he stood right beside her. She missed Adam although he would always be in her heart.

  He seemed especially close tonight, maybe because she could see him in Zac. She could see, in Zac’s face, what Adam might have looked like as a man.

  She turned, blinking back tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Zac asked in concern.

  She wiped a hand across her face. “It’s…personal.”

  “Did you lose someone in the war?” When she didn’t answer, Zac said, “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just…you seem so sad.”

  She tried to shrug away the sorrow. “We live in sad times.”

  “Was he a lover?” There was a strange urgency in Zac’s voice.

  Camille turned in confusion. “What?”

  “The person you lost. Was he a lover? Your husband?”

  She shook her head. “My son.”

  She heard him draw a sharp breath. “My God,” he whispered. “I had no idea. I’m sorry. How long—”

  “A year ago,” she said. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I understand.” But she could hear the questions in his voice. How did it happen? How old was he? What was his name?

  She remembered that day in the hospital when he’d first come to and asked about someone named Adam. She’d wondered then and she wondered now how he’d known. How could he possibly have known?

  Adam hadn’t been born until after Zac left. She’d had no contact with him until she’d seen him in that mine nearly a week ago. How could he have known about her son? About their son?

  “What about your husband?” Zac asked.

  She didn’t bother to correct him. “He’s gone, too,” Camille said almost angrily.

  Something in her tone must have warned him against further inquiry. He turned to stare at the lake, and a deep silence fell between them.

  Presently Camille became aware of the sound of laughter in the distance, following by splashing.

  “Sounds like the boys are taking a swim,” Zac mused.

  “I hope Mrs. Fowler is keeping an eye on them,” Camille said worriedly.

  “Who’s Mrs. Fowler?”

  “She’s their housekeeper. Mr. Clutter hired her to watch after the boys while he’s at work, but from what I can tell, the boys are pretty much left to their own devices.”

  “I guess that’s lucky for me,” Zac said.

  Camille glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  “If she kept them on a tight leash, I might have died in that mine.”

  “That’s true.” Camille sighed. “But I still worry about them.” It was the mother in her, she supposed. Adam had died before she’d fulfilled all of her maternal instincts.

  She listened to the childish laughter, the sound bittersweet in the darkness. Then her heart froze as the shrieks of laughter turned to screams.

  She clutched Zac’s arm. “Something’s wrong.”

  He took off running with Camille close on his heels. As they neared the shore, she could see two distant figures in the dark water. At the edge of the lake, Donny struggled to launch the dinghy the boys used for fishing.

  “Donny, what’s wrong?” Camille called.

  He looked up, his expression frantic. “It’s Billy. He followed Davy out into the deep water and he can’t swim.”

  In a flash, Zac tore off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and dove into the water. Camille was right behind him, but Zac soon outdistanced her. She could see him closing in on the boys as Davy valiantly tried to keep his brother’s head above water. But he would tire soon. If Zac didn’t reach them in time, both boys could drown—

  Billy’s head slipped underneath the water, then Davy’s. After a moment, Davy resurfaced, but there was no sign of Billy.

  “Hang on,” Camille whispered. No sooner had the plea left her lips than she saw Zac reach Davy. He said something to the boy, then dove. A few seconds later, Camille dove, too.

  It was so dark beneath the surface that she feared they would never be able to find the child, but then she saw Zac a few feet away, and he had Billy.

  They both surfaced, gasping for breath. Zac struck out for the bank with the child in tow, and Davy and Camille followed. When they reached shallow water, Zac picked Billy up and carried him to the beach. He positioned the unconscious child on his back and turned his face to the side. A trickle of water oozed out of Billy’s mouth.

  Working quickly, Zac knelt with one leg on either side of Billy’s hips, then placed his hands, one on top of the other, on Billy’s upper abdomen. Using the heel of his hand, he performed a series of quick upward thrusts as water flowed from Billy’s mouth. After only a few seconds, the child began to cough. Then he began to cry.

  Camille knelt and put her arms around him, cradling him to her. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re going to be fine.” But the more she soothed him, the louder he howled.

  A door slammed nearby, and then, after a moment, Mrs. Fowler came hurrying out of the twilight toward the water. “What’s wrong? I heard someone yelling.”

  “Billy almost drowned,” Camille said bluntly. “The boys shouldn’t be swimming alone. Especially not after dark.”

  “But I only left them for a moment,” the older woman defended. “And I thought Donny and Davy would keep an eye on him.”

  “It’s not their responsibility to keep an eye on him,” Camille said accusingly.

  “Take it easy,” Zac murmured.

  He was right. The harsher her tone, the more upset Billy became.

  “We should get him inside and into some dry clothes before shock sets in,” Zac advised. He bent and took the boy from Camille. Billy had been tense, almost hysterical in her arms, but he relaxed completely against Zac. His tiny arms wound around Zac’s neck as he placed his head on Zac’s wide chest.

  The sight brought a gasp from Camille. And then the sting of tears. Seeing Zac like that…with Billy in his arms…

  She had never seen him hold Adam. It was a loss she’d always felt keenly, but, for the first time, she put her bitterness and pain aside long enough to acknowledge what Zac had lost through no fault of his own.

  He carried the boy into the house and, at Billy’s insistence, helped him in
to his pajamas and then into bed.

  Donny and Davy hovered nearby, hero worship shining on their faces, while Mrs. Fowler lurked in the doorway, wringing her hands.

  “Is there a telephone?” Zac asked over his shoulder.

  “Yes. The government put in a new line when they built the reservation.”

  “Call the operator and have her connect to the hospital. See if you can get a doctor out here.”

  “But he seems fine now,” Mrs. Fowler protested.

  Zac whirled. “Either you make the call or I will, but the boy needs medical attention. Is that understood?”

  “I know how to use the phone,” Davy said. “I’ll call Dr. Macy.”

  “He joined the army,” Donny reminded him.

  “Have the operator get hold of Dr. Collins,” Zac said. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  Davy ran off to the phone while Mrs. Fowler lingered in the doorway. Outside, a car door slammed, then, moments later, footsteps sounded down the hallway. Daniel Clutter appeared in the doorway, his eyes wild with concern. When he saw Billy, he rushed over to the bed.

  “Billy, son, are you all right? What happened?”

  Zac stepped back from the bed to make room for the worried father. “He’s going to be fine, but I think it would be a good idea to have a doctor look him over just to be on the safe side.”

  “Yes, of course.” Daniel sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his hands on Billy’s shoulders. “What happened, son?”

  “He went in the deep water and almost drowned,” Donny said. “But Mr. Riley saved him. You should have seen him, Pop. He swims like a fish.”

  “Faster,” Davy said as he came back into the room. “And then he pressed on Billy’s stomach and water shot out of his mouth.”