Chapter 14
Gwendolyn Madsen When she and Dane had first started dating, he had taken her to this butte that overlooked part of the Elsinore Ranch. "It's kind of my refuge, you know?" he'd said then, walking with his fingers intertwined with hers, guiding her up the path, pointing out the areas where shale rock made it dangerous to tread. "It's nice to be able to come to a place where I can just…you know…think. Try to figure stuff out." She had nodded, more enjoying the incredible view of the valley, with Noah a small smudge in the distance, attached to where they were by a thread-thin umbilical cord of a road. They had taken ATVs up from the Lodge, which they'd parked a ways behind them. The hike was just long enough to make her feel like they'd earned the view, but not so long that she dreaded going back down. She could definitely understand why he liked the place so much. Looking over the ranch, Gwen had pointed to a spot that looked surprisingly cultivated. "What's that?" she had asked. "Family graveyard," he'd said, following her finger with his eyes. "Look, you can see the road that runs in front of it. It's not really that far. That's the one that runs to the Lodge." "Ah, cool," she'd said. More small-talk had ensued, which had turned into an unforgettable moment for her: Dane had leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. It was a unique thrill; she'd never been kissed before. Now she sat on the butte, looking over the ranch, over the graveyard, at the distant twinkle of the Lodge, her lips still burning but because of a far different kind of kiss. Anger, not romance, draped itself over her thoughts. "Why'd you kiss me?" she asked the cold November air. Sitting on a boulder, her knees tucked beneath her chin, her butt slowly freezing on the rock, Gwen watched as the night began to unleash its spray of stars. It was dangerous, she knew, since she would have to navigate the trail down with nothing but a phone's flashlight, but she wasn't really worried. Besides, it was worth being alone. The only person that would likely find her here was Dane, and she rather doubted he would be coming after her. And that was one of the problems: She didn't know if that bothered her or not. She didn't want to be played with, yet she'd tried to play games with both her father and her boyfriend. Dane had done something pretty unforgivable--who, in their right mind, would start shooting at someone and then just pretend that it was no big deal and he wasn't really shooting at her?--and Gwen wasn't really interested in forgiving him at this point. And that didn't even take into consideration the horrible things he'd said in his texts the other day, a detail that she'd meant to bring up with him during their conversation… Yet there was the fact that she understood what had him so upset. They had broken up, and that wasn't something that anyone would really want to deal with. Gwen hadn't wanted to, but as a people-pleaser, and in her attempt at pleasing her father, she'd done a pretty cruel thing to him. Then, to make it worse, she had invited her dad to listen in on a private conversation. That didn't excuse the gun, of course--that was out of bounds. But she couldn't say that she was perfectly innocent either, now could she? Guilt swam through her. Of course it was her fault. Dane was in a bad place right now, and she'd pushed through regardless, desperate to make her father happy--and at the expense of Dane's feelings. An upsurge of emotion swept over her and she let loose a furious, wordless scream at the sky. Curling her fingers through her hair, she closed her eyes and screamed again. It felt good. Not helpful, but good. It got something out of her. "What am I going to do?" she asked of the slowly waving branches of the conifers that surrounded her. "What should I do?" The forest had no answers. Frustrated, she dropped her hands into her lap and stood up. "Okay, so…I should tell Dad that I'm not interested in being a part of this anymore. Dane said he'd needed me and I hadn't been there. I should care about him. He's the…" She hesitated, putting a hand just below her bellybutton. "What have we done?" she whispered. The idea of having an abortion flitted through her mind, but she didn't know the first step. She couldn't be certain, but the county hospital probably didn't offer abortion services. And while she didn't feel like she had a human inside of her--at least, not yet--did she want to prevent the possibility of it becoming one? She shivered, but not because of the cold breeze that kept the leaves near her whispering as they passed her. Some decisions were too big, too hard to figure out on one's own. Yet whom did she have to talk about it? Not Dad, that was certain. Lenny was out, too--not just because he was out of range (his training was going to keep him in the mountains near Paris, Idaho for another few days, if she remembered correctly) but because he was Lenny--and normally, Dane was the one she would turn to. But he was one of the problems. The only other friend that Gwen felt like she had was Harmony Roman, which… Well, now that she thought about that, maybe Harmony would be available to talk to. She was a good friend, and had been for a long time. Granted, Gwen only knew Harmony through the mutual friend of Dane, but that didn't really matter, did it? Sometimes, girl talk was the best talk, regardless of how the girls got together. She pulled out her cellphone. A quick text would set her to rights. They could eat breakfast at the café--or, better yet, go get a milkshake from Rall's Grill and Dairy Freeze on SR-85, even if it was "fraternizing with the enemy", as Rall's Grill was the primary competition to Trucker's--and grouse about the men in their lives until Gwen felt better. "Oh," she said, feeling deflated. "Never mind." There was no cell service out here. She knew that--it was one of the other perks of coming out here, because no one could get a hold of her--but, in the roil of her thoughts, she had forgotten. Well, it was still a good plan. She just needed to get into town to set it in motion. Gwen stood, brushing the dust off the back of her jeans. Just as she was about to start her trek down to where she'd parked the car--off the side of the road on a spongy shoulder--she heard the choking cough of an approaching vehicle from the road in front of the Elsinore graveyard. As she watched, a large truck--or possibly SUV--lurched to a shuddering stop. The lights remained on as the door flung open, releasing with it a string of curses that, on a night with only a leaf-teasing breeze in it, were able to drift into her ears. "Out of gas, are you kidding me? Son of a…" More swearing, more anger, but what was said didn't really matter to her; it was who was saying it that froze her in place. It was Dad. Sheriff Madsen had, somehow, failed to notice the warning light on his dashboard. It was one of the things, Gwen remembered, that he complained about the most with his service SUV: It had horrible gas mileage and the indicator light was finicky at best. Now, it appeared, the man had run out of fuel while still multiple miles from town. Her first impulse was to shout and draw his attention, to let him know that she was there and she could pick him up. His car was a couple of bends away from hers, so he wouldn't have seen her. He didn't know she was there. The swirl of frustration that she'd been trying to sort through crashed over her again. Did she really want to help him? It was his insistence that had kept her away from Dane during the funeral. It was his idea to break up with Dane, which lead to the horrible texts. It was his idea to spy on Dane during a moment of emotional vulnerability. In retrospect, her dad had not been a particularly good father of late. She knew it wasn't fair to judge him so harshly. He was, after all, a really good dad most of the time. He protected the town and his family. He'd done the widower, single-father gig for a long time, raising a boy (who was just like him) and a girl (who was just like his wife) without help from others. That wasn't something to hate him for. But at this particular moment, Gwen didn't feel like giving him the benefit of the doubt. It was selfish of her, she knew. Granted, Dad didn't know she was there, so he couldn't be mad at her for not picking him up. She could drive up into the canyon a bit further, then loop around and head back in an hour or so, by which time Dad would have gotten some gas. Probably. Drawing in one more deep lungful of mountain air, she nodded to herself. It would serve him right for being a prying, conniving father. Not only that, but did she not much care for the idea of having to talk to her dad at this point. If nothing else, that was enough reason to take the long way. Humming idly to herself as she picked her way down from the overlook, Gwendolyn Madsen did her best to convince herself that she wasn't making the wrong choice. For the most part, it worked. |