Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

Abby watched him go, furious with herself for being so careless with the ring. What if she’d lost it? She wasn’t sure what bothered her more-wondering what Scott must think, or the threat of what Trevor would do if the ring didn’t make it back to him.

Scott hurried down the stairs to the living room where a warm woodstove burned a cheery fire, keeping the cold and the darkness at bay. He pulled a wooden chair as close to the stove as he dared, soaking up as much warmth as he could stand after the terrific cold of the woods and the lake. But even as he stared through the stove’s window at the dancing flames, Scott felt the cold and the darkness pressing in on his heart.

So, Abby had a diamond engagement ring in her pocket. He was curious about that, but it wasn’t any of his business. They’d been schoolmates years and years before, and he hadn’t seen her since until that morning. He had no claim on her life. But obviously someone else did, or recently had.

He needed to back away, to keep himself from becoming any more attached to her than he already felt. That kiss in the woods was a mistake, a desperate move in a moment of panic, and he wondered if she would remember it, though he doubted he’d ever forget. Abby Caldwell had always appealed to him.

He heard her feet on the steps, heard her talking with Elda in the kitchen as she handed over her wet clothes for the laundry and offered to help the older couple in any way. They turned her down, of course, and then he heard her soft footfalls on the creaky old floor as she made her way down the hall toward him. Her steps sounded tentative, almost reluctant. Or maybe he was just reading too much into things.

“Come on in, the fire’s warm.”

“I’m sure it feels great.” At his invitation she stepped quickly past him and held her hands out to the stove. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever feel warm again.”

“Me, too.” Scott cleared his throat. Should he ask her about the ring? No, it wasn’t any of his business. But she knew he’d seen it-surely she’d be wondering what he was thinking. Perhaps it would be best if he acknowledged it and moved past it. Before he could make up his mind, Abby pulled a chair over near him, sat down and spoke.

“Remember how we were talking about who might have a motive for stranding us on the island?”

It took Scott’s still-groggy mind a moment to switch topics. “Yes.”

“Well, I was thinking, and I might be totally off base here,” she qualified, “but you know what you said about your family’s land being potentially worth a lot of money?”

Scott wanted to caution her, to assure her the whole idea was a long shot, but whether it was his exhaustion over their earlier ordeal or a still-small voice telling him to listen, he said nothing and watched her face intently as she spoke.

“It occurred to me, inheritance laws being what they are, who would get the land if you and your mother died?”

“That depends.” Scott thought about it. “If Mom died, I’d inherit the land from her, and then if I died, I have two distant cousins on her side who would probably inherit it from me, although Mitch might stake some sort of claim. I don’t know.”

“What if you died first, or if you both died at the same time?”

Scott opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Was she implying…

“Sorry, I’m sure it’s none of my business.” She rose from her chair.

Reaching up, Scott touched her arm and she sat back down. “Mitch would get it,” he told her, looking into her eyes. “Mitch would get everything.”

Her eyes widened at his words. “Do you think-” she started.

“Do I think what?” Fears, ideas, a jumbled mass of theories and suspicions came crashing down inside his head as though Abby had pulled open the door of an overstuffed closet and let loose more skeletons than he’d ever known were hiding there. “Do I think Mitch would stoop to murder if he thought he could get away with it? Maybe. Do I think he’s bright enough to have planned something like this, or brave enough to pull it off? Not really.” Scott leaned back in his chair and put his hands to his temples. He was getting a headache from all the wind and cold he’d endured.

Then he leaned forward and looked at Abby, whose sapphire-blue eyes watched him warily. “Look, I don’t like my stepfather. I’ve never liked him. Partly that’s my own bias, because I loved my father and felt my mother had betrayed his memory by marrying Mitch. But whether my dislike of the man translates into him being capable of plotting a double murder…” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Abby apologized. “I didn’t want to suggest it, but with your mother alone on the island with him right now, and with the power cut and the radio tampered with, I guess I got spooked.” Her small hand reached for his, her delicate fingers curving over his knuckles.

Scott looked down at her hand. It would have been the most natural thing in the world to take her hand, to hold her as he had in the woods. But until he knew why she was carrying an engagement ring around in her pocket, he figured he should keep his distance. He pulled his hand away.

An injured expression flashed across Abby’s features. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again.

Guilt immediately replaced caution, and Scott returned her apology. “No, you’re okay, I just-” He stopped, unsure what to say, whether to bring up the ring or not.

“It’s okay. I get it.” She leaned away from him and turned her face to the fire. Words slipped from her lips on a whisper. “You’re the strong guy who helps everyone else. You don’t need any support from me.”

The moment she heard the words escape from her mouth, Abby felt horrible for speaking out of place. But it hurt her to see the way Scott took everything upon himself-his mother’s fragility, the weight of the canoe, even her weight, as he’d carried her through the woods. She remembered an article she’d read in the college paper after the football team’s sole loss his senior year. He’d blamed himself entirely for the team’s loss. She didn’t know him terribly well, but she could see the pattern in his life. He was a counselor by profession. He helped others all the time. But she wondered if he knew how to ask for help.

The way his lower jaw clenched, she was certain her words had upset him. But rather than raise his voice or lash out at her, he asked, “What do you mean?”

Abby wondered how she could begin to explain. It wasn’t a formal thought she’d had, just a sense of Scott taking on too much and shouldering everyone else’s burdens. “You’ve been tiptoeing around your mother all day, afraid the truth is going to break her. You can’t stand your stepdad but you won’t talk to her about that either.”

“Abby,” Scott said patiently, “I have a Ph.D. in psychology. I can deal with less than optimum interpersonal relationships, but my mother isn’t equipped with that kind of objectivity. It’s my duty as her son to support her.”

“That’s great, Scott, but who supports you?” As she spoke, she met Scott’s eyes and held his gaze. For a moment she felt as though she’d seen straight into the depths of his hurt and loss to the boy who’d lost his dad and was afraid of losing his mother, too.

Then Scott’s jaw tightened and he looked away.

Abby pinched her eyes shut. She’d said too much. She didn’t know Scott and didn’t have any right to question him, but she felt as though she did. Though their circumstances didn’t warrant it, emotionally she felt very close to him, and it hurt her to see the distance he’d put between himself and his mother. “I’m sorry. It isn’t any of my business.” She tucked her fingers into the warmth of her knees.