The Wedding Arbor. Valerie Hansen
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that before the rain started,” Adam warned gently. “If I let you out now you’ll have to spend the night on the porch.”
The enormous white dog looked back at him wisely.
“I mean it, boy. There’s no room in this cabin for a soggy dog the size of a Shetland pony. I don’t care how lovable you are.”
Samson rose. Walking slowly to the door he appeared to listen for a moment before returning to stand beside Adam’s chair. His chin rested on the man’s knees, his chocolate-brown eyes pledged sincerity. When Adam made no move, the dog nudged him gently.
“Okay, but you won’t like it out there. You’re going to get soaked.”
Already waiting at the door, Samson was not wagging his tail, an unusual reaction Adam found rather disquieting. “Don’t go far.” He flicked on the porch light and eased open the door.
The dog burst out into the night. Adam’s jaw dropped. “Hey, you, come back here!”
Adam pulled on a yellow slicker with a hood, and heavy, black rubber boots. Quickly snapping them he stepped out onto the porch to peer into the storm. Samson’s distant baying was the only clue to where he’d headed.
Adam left the cabin at a trot. The next time that mangy ball of fur wanted to go out in the rain he was going to tie a long rope to his collar and stand on the porch holding the opposite end.
“My next house is going to have a spare room to keep wet dogs in,” he murmured, starting into the forest. “And my next dog is going to be a miniature dachshund, or some other little breed, instead of a Great Pyrenees. It’ll have short hair and stubby legs. Then let’s see it get away from me in the middle of an Arkansas monsoon!”
Sara hadn’t moved from the driver’s seat since she’d lost control of the car. She had no idea whether it was safe to climb out.
Making a droll face she remembered praying for patience and wondered what kind of sense of humor God must have. If there was a God, after all.
She recalled her recent disillusionment with Eric Rydell. He’d been hired to teach sixth grade in the school where she taught kindergarten and first. She had trusted him implicitly and introduced him to all her friends. She’d even taken him to church with her until she’d discovered what an accomplished liar he was. His pious, conventional facade was so convincing that most of her acquaintances still refused to believe how unstable he was. They were trying to talk her into getting back together with him! What she really needed was their moral support.
In truth, it was the man’s unnatural possessiveness that most frightened her. None of her fervent prayers for deliverance from it had been answered. She swore he had even begun watching her house. That was when she’d taken matters into her own hands, rented a different car in which to make her escape, and headed for the Ozarks. Maybe, by the time school started again in the fall, he’d have gotten over his ridiculous obsession with her.
And maybe not. Her heart sped, her palms sweating. Had she imagined getting a glimpse of his car in her rearview mirror back on the highway? Were his threats genuine? And if so, had he noticed when she’d turned off the paved road? Or was she simply conjuring up demons where there were none?
The storm raged on. A bolt of lightning struck. Sara flinched and felt the car shift slightly. Tiny hairs prickled at the back of her neck and her forearms. The car offered more protection than she’d find outside in the wilds but there was something immensely disquieting about teetering on the edge of goodness-knows-what while she waited to slide into oblivion!
Sara jerked open the driver’s side door before she could change her mind. She felt the car’s precarious balance change. The roar of a rain-swollen river echoed from somewhere behind. It sounded so close. That ended her choices. No way was she going to take the chance of sliding into the water, car and all!
“Okay, okay,” she told herself. “Take it easy. The main thing is, to not panic.”
She eased her left leg out and placed one foot on the ground. Reaching for the waterproof backpack containing personal items and her precious laptop computer, she eased it past her chest and out into the rain as she stood up.
“Oh, yuck!” Mud squashed beneath and all around her sandals. It oozed between her toes. Wind-driven rain plastered her clothing to her body like panty hose sticking to bare legs on a humid, southern summer day.
“There are no bears, there are no bears,” Sara chanted. “There are no…aaah!”
She clutched the pack to her chest like a shield. The fingers of one hand covered her lips to stifle a squeal. A dingy-white specter rushed out of the underbrush and headed straight for her.
Sara tried to half fend it off, half catch it. She screamed, her high pitch carrying well above the din of the storm.
The animal’s greater weight and momentum propelled them both backward into the mud. She was quite relieved to realize it was a dog and not a deer or a mountain lion. It stood above her and slobbered friendly greetings all over her face and neck. Sara tried in vain to sit up.
“Get off me, you big ox. Now!”
“Just tell him to get down,” a male voice quickly offered.
“He is down. We both are. Oh, my…” Her last statement ended in a gurgled shriek as the dog renewed its efforts to lick her face with a tongue as wide as her palm.
Twisting her head she blinked hard against the rain and tried to get a better look at the stranger.
“Are you okay?” The man’s voice was gruff.
“Oh, fine. Just peachy.” Sara continued to try to forcibly remove the determined animal. “Would you mind?”
“Samson.” The enigmatic stranger spoke with authority. “Down. Let the nice lady go.”
After one parting swipe with his tongue the dog backed off. Sara felt imbedded in the soggy ground and pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to avoid getting any more mud on the precious pack.
Looking up, she tossed her head to swing her bangs out of her eyes, then reached up to smooth the blond hair back with one hand. She realized too late that she had just drawn a band of red clay across her forehead.
“That was cute.” The man was not smiling.
“I’m so glad you’re impressed.” Sara was anything but amused, herself.
“Actually, I’m not,” the blue-eyed man said. “I can understand my dog wanting to come out in the rain, but I’d think a person like you would have more common sense.”
“I was trying to find my great-grandmother’s old homestead.”
“In the middle of this storm?” His tone said more about his opinion of her poor planning than his actual words.
“It wasn’t raining when I left home.”
“So, why didn’t you turn around when you saw what the weather was like?”
Sara was not about to admit she’d been running away. “I couldn’t turn back. The road was too narrow. The visibility was bad.”
He snorted with derision. “You mean, you might have wound up in a ditch if you’d tried to go back? Seems to me that’s exactly what did happen.”
“It wasn’t my fault. I slid backward.” She was growing exasperated with his know-it-all attitude. Wiping one hand on her ruined skirt she held it out to her would-be rescuer. He made no move to help lift her the rest of the way. She stared up at him. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, aren’t you going to give me a hand?” She hoped he didn’t remember that stale old joke and literally applaud her predicament.
“You said you’re not hurt. I’m glad. The way I see it, you got here all by yourself—in spite of the worst storm we’ve