Selena Kitt - Beauty

It wasn’t an accident. Of course, she hadn’t known that then. She’d been a lost, grief-stricken child and Carlos had been waiting to swoop in and comfort her, convincing her to marry him and give up that scholarship so far away from anything familiar she’d ever known. She still couldn’t believe her naivete, how she had believed Carlos’s lies through the years, listened to his excuses. And then, even when faced with the proof of her father’s murder, she had allowed him to explain it away. She held the paper in her hand-findings suppressed at the hearing that the brakes on the logging truck had been fine after all-and had still denied it as truth.

She remembered it clearly enough. Her father had kissed her goodbye that morning, grabbing a thermos of coffee, stopping only to take a bite of the eggs she’d made for him. He’d been on his way to talk to one of the union reps and Daryl had pulled the chain outside on the big logging rig, informing the whole neighborhood that he was there to pick her father up.

Later Daryl tearfully told the cameras that the brakes had failed.

“I told the old man to bail!” he swore in his testimony. “He couldn’t get his belt off. I tried to help him but I had to get out of the truck. What could I do?” Watch her father sail off a ledge into a ravine, apparently. Daryl broke his arm in the fall, but he was alive. Her father had been trapped in the truck by his own seatbelt, and all those years she thought it had been a mechanical failure.

They said the brakes failed, but the brakes were fine. According to the report, they were just fine, and the handwritten note- Your father was murdered- there was nothing I could do about it – he was a friend and a good man – your husband wanted him dead -pointed the finger clearly enough. But Carlos had explained it away and she believed him. She had let him charm her once again, and had nearly paid for that mistake with her life.

Jolee thought of Silas on the other side of that wall, out there cooking breakfast for them.

What did he know about his brother? He had certainly accepted the fact that Carlos had killed her father and had been trying to kill her as well, willingly enough. He had never questioned her assertions, not once. Maybe it was just because he trusted her-or maybe it was because he knew the kind of man his brother really was.

She looked at all the pretty shaped soaps and lotions and bottles of bubble bath Silas had left on the ledge, trying to remind herself not to think about it. Her father was gone, her husband believed she was dead. She didn’t belong anywhere-but she had Silas, and he had her. It was enough for now.

* * * *

Silas gunned the Arctic Cat, the runners gliding along the hard-packed snow as he ducked his head to miss a low-hanging branch, realizing he was just five minutes from home now. He hadn’t had that glad-to-be-heading-home feeling in his chest for years, and he knew it was because Jolee was waiting for him. Part of him hated leaving her, but there were things he had to do, in spite of her protest and questions-and Lord knew, the woman was full of both!

“Just tell me where you’re going,” she’d insisted as they both sat on side-by-side stools next to Big Anna while he attempted to teach her how to milk the old girl.

He’d considered lying to her, making up some excuse or reason he had to go, but instead had decided that being cryptic had worked so far, why stop now? Of course, Jolee had caught on to his deflection, and if that failed, his silence and refusal to answer.

“You are impossible!” She’d given up on both him and the cow, storming out of the old horse stall where kept Big Anna for the winter.

I’m not the only one , Silas thought, scanning the woods for wildlife, constantly using his peripheral vision, always practicing a high degree of situational awareness. He had instructed her how to do everything-when to turn on the generator, where he kept the extra fuel, how to milk the cow. He’d been as thorough as he could, but he knew better than anyone that you couldn’t plan for surprises. Anything could have happened while he was gone.

He gave the Cat another jolt, urging the machine faster. Dusk was settling though the snow-heavy limbs of the trees, casting long shadows. He’d promised he would only be three days and if he made it home tonight, he would keep that promise, although he hadn’t been sure, yesterday morning when he’d been repelling deep into one of his brother’s mines with four pounds of dynamite strapped to his back, that he would make it at all.

All’s well that ends well, he told himself, seeing the house come into view over the rise of the hill. His heart raced at the sight of it, faster than it had been pounding when he’d flipped the switch and blown his brother’s new sulfide mine, collapsing it into rubble. He was always careful to pull his jobs at night, when no one was working in the mines or at the camps. Carlos had them guarded now, of course-there were rumors around the mining and logging camps that they were being haunted and/or hunted by some sort of mythical “beast” who mangled trucks, equipment and even the sites themselves-but Silas could track so silently the guards were taken care of, passed out before they knew what hit them.

He didn’t know who really believed the “beast” rumors, but he didn’t do anything to discourage them. They were useful and kept Carlos and his cronies from turning their attention to the real culprit. They probably figured it was some overzealous activist from the EPA, Silas thought, and that was good. As long as he was careful and they didn’t connect him to the millions of dollars of destruction and the months of set-back, he figured he and Jolee were safe in the woods until spring. And after spring, it wouldn’t matter anymore.

He parked the Arctic Cat next to the shed and peeled off his helmet. The mask she had made him was breathable but it kept the wind off his face and he was grateful for it. She’d knit him several more, a small concession to his wearing them at all, in a myriad of colors. “At least give me something new to look at,” she’d teased, handing him an orange one. “Besides, I don’t want a hunter taking your head off out there.”

He flipped open the storage container on the back of the Cat, removing two of the three rabbits he’d snared while he was waiting for activity to shut down for the weekend. The third one had met a different fate in the mines. He held the rabbits up in front of him as he stomped into the kitchen, calling for her.

“Slim pickins’ out there, huh?” Jolee leaned against the door frame, frowning at his small game offering.

“We got plenty in the freezer.” He took off his boots as she snatched the rabbits, tossing them next to the sink.

“I know.” She turned to face him, arms crossed. “Which begs the question-where were you exactly? Because you clearly weren’t out there hunting.” Silas shrugged off his parka and removed his gloves, the warmth of the room making his limbs tingle. He’d been on the Cat so long he’d grown numb to the cold.

“Did you miss me?” he teased. He glanced over at her drawn brow and pursed lips, looking for a hint of the truth. Had she missed him? He didn’t like to admit it, but he’d missed her. He turned and headed toward his bedroom to change.

“There was someone here, Silas,” she called.

He stopped, turning, his heart dropping to his knees, and looked into her eyes. They were bright with tears.

“Who?” he managed, his gaze sweeping over her as if he could assess, just by looking, if she was unharmed. “When?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was choked and she wiped angrily at her falling tears, storming past him down the hall toward her room.