Karen Leabo - Twilight Man

Faith sighed. “I wish I hadn’t heard that.”

“Do storms bother you?” Jones asked.

She jumped a good two inches at the next deafening boom of thunder. “Does that answer your question? Really I’m no more frightened than the next person when I have a roof over my head. But when nothing separates me from the raging elements except a thin sheet of nylon, I tend to get...nervous.”

She was more than nervous, Jones decided. Although it was growing dark enough that he couldn’t see her well, he knew she was shivering—not only from the temperature drop, but with fear. He could almost smell it. He could definitely smell the electricity in the air, and not all of it came from the storm.

“We’ll be okay,” he said. “I’m glad you talked me into staying, though. It would have been a rough trip home.”

The wind challenged his words, roaring around the tent, snapping the nylon and causing nearby trees to creak and groan. The rain fell with the force of a waterfall cascading over the tent.

By the time Faith finished her cheese and crackers, the darkness was thick. Yet Jones knew exactly where she was. Her case of nerves had grown into an almost tangible terror, which rolled off her in waves.

“Is it ever going to stop?” she demanded in a shaking voice.

Jones recognized the warning signs of a full-blown anxiety attack. Mary-Lynn had experienced them often enough, although it wasn’t thunderstorms that had frightened her.

“It’ll be okay,” he soothed, reaching for her hand. When he found it, it was icy cold. He slowly moved closer until he sat next to her on her air mattress. His arm stole around her trembling shoulders.

Rather than object, as he thought she might, she snuggled closer to him, burrowing her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He held her close, warming her body with his until the shivering stopped.

In his head he knew she accepted simple comfort from him and no more. But his body disagreed. Although he was unable to see her, there were plenty of other physical signals for his senses to collect—the skin of her midriff, shielded only by her thin nightshirt, soft and warm against his palm; her silky hair tickling his face; and the sweet, womanly smell of her that seemed to permeate his very pores. Even her breathing turned him on.

“I feel ridiculous,” she said into his chest. “I mean, I hardly even know you, and...”

“Shh,” he said. No, she didn’t know him, and she never would. He would make sure of that. He was so tempted to tell her everything and satisfy her curiosity, but he dared not. If he did, he might well end up in exactly the same kind of untenable situation that had forced him to leave his hometown, his friends, his family, his fiancée.

“I think it’s letting up, isn’t it?” Faith asked hopefully.

Jones didn’t have the heart to answer her. If anything, the storm had intensified. Between the almost constant claps of thunder, car doors slammed and engines started, evidence that many of their fellow campers had opted for higher ground.

A weather bulletin on the radio informed them that funnel clouds had been sighted in Marshall and Kildare, both within twenty miles of Caddo Lake. The tornado watch was upgraded to a warning.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but I think we should get out of here,” Jones said.

“And go where?” The panic had edged back into her voice as she pulled away from him.

“The shower building,” he replied, picturing a sturdy brick structure. “Isn’t there one just up the road?”

“Yes. Good, that’s a good idea. Just let me put some clothes on...” She sounded calmer, now that she had something to occupy her.

Jones waited in the darkness as she slipped on a pair of jeans under her nightshirt just inches from him, driving his imagination wild. He guessed that ordinarily she wouldn’t have been so uninhibited, but speed was of the essence.

“You drive,” Faith said, handing him the keys.

When they both had their shoes on, they made a dash for the car, but they might as well have saved the effort. Their clothes were soaked to the skin. Jones turned on the heater, flipped the windshield wipers to high speed, then crept cautiously onto the narrow road that meandered through the small campgrounds. One wrong turn, he thought, and they could end up fender-deep in swamp muck.

Somehow, though he couldn’t see an inch in front of the car, he made it to the main road and then the public shower building without mishap. He parked close to the door. Then he and Faith made a break for shelter.

“Whew!” Faith exclaimed, visibly relaxing now that she had a roof over her head. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see this nasty building. I feel much safer.”

Jones wasn’t so sure they were safe. The small building had only a corrugated fiberglass roof, which a high wind could easily whip away. He was also bothered by the fact that no one else had taken shelter here. He tried not to reveal his uneasiness, however. Unless he wanted Faith’s anxiety to return, he needed to make her believe he had everything completely under control.

At least the place had lights.

Faith sat down on the wooden bench between the doors leading to the men’s and women’s sides of the building, leaned her head against the brick wall and closed her eyes.

Jones took the opportunity to study her. She looked like a half-drowned cat, with her hair plastered to her head and her clothes dripping wet, and yet she managed to maintain an air of fragile beauty. His gaze was drawn to her pink nightshirt. The wet, nearly transparent fabric clung to the bare skin beneath it, revealing firm, rounded breasts with nipples that pebbled against the cool night air.

He tore his gaze away and sat down next to her, close but not touching. His libido had taken enough of a beating for one night. “You okay now?” he asked.

“Yes, I feel much better.” She opened her eyes and fixed him with her clear blue gaze. “I’m sorry I was such a baby.”

“It was understandable.”

“You’re not living up to your reputation, you know. Offering comfort, that is. The folks around here are scared to death of you. Hoady says you tried to kill him.”

“That’s a gross exaggeration.”

“Then what really happened?”

That damn curiosity of hers was going to lead to trouble, Jones thought. But he didn’t see any harm in telling her this particular story. “He was setting trotlines in my lagoon. I didn’t want to have to deal with him coming around every day to check them, and I didn’t want to look at those ugly floats all the time. I told him to take his lines elsewhere. And when he ignored me, I got out a shotgun and—”

Faith gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I shot into the air.” Jones laughed. “I didn’t think fat little Hoady could move so fast.”

Faith shared his laughter for a moment, but then she sobered. “Hoady’s not the only one. The man at Jasper’s Grocery, Bill Something, I think his name was, thinks you’re a fugitive from the law, probably a murderer. He says he saw your picture in a post office.”

Bill Holt. Jones never had liked the man, or his nosy questions. “Bill can think what he likes.”

“It seems everyone has a different opinion as to what you’re doing all alone in the swamp, but everyone agrees about one thing. They all say you’re meaner than a snake, and they advised me to keep my distance.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because I knew you weren’t mean. I remembered how you talked to me after the accident, how you coaxed me to unbuckle my seat belt. And I remembered how kind you were when you wiped the blood off my face and bandaged my leg.”

Now they were in uncomfortable territory. Jones shrugged. “Yeah, well, you needed help and I happened to be there.”