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Ella s eyes stung. The praise was unexpected and felt almost& motherly. In Ella s world, that was
absent, and it was bittersweet.
On impulse, she went forward and gently hugged the older woman. Take care of yourself. And good
luck, Betty.
Betty carefully hugged back, then gave a light cough and backed away. You get on now. I hear the
winning bids last night got forty-eight hours of beck and call service. You get back to your Devin.
Ella blushed and headed towards the door.
Ella?
At Betty s soft call, she turned back, touched once again by the soft, sad look in the woman s eyes.
Did you want to add something more? She could have her notebook out in a flash. Sometimes these
little incidentals were the gold mine of quotes. The little throwaways that could be the true heart of the
story.
Just& I know your mom would be proud of you. That woman worked herself to the bone. I d hate to
see you do the same thing and miss out on something great.
Was Devin the something great she meant? How could he be? Their relationship had ended years ago.
And Betty& there was so much that she didn t know about what had happened. It was far more likely the
woman was waxing nostalgic because her mortality was staring her in the face.
Take care, she repeated softly, and shut the door behind her.
***
Ella stopped at a supermarket in Durango and picked up enough groceries to get by for a few days
the prospect of the packaged ham and white bread in Devin s kitchen wasn t the most appetizing. She
wasn t sure what he ate but it couldn t be much from home not after seeing the contents of his fridge. It
was clear he was going to hold her to the whole forty-eight hours, and they needed to eat. She refused to let
it be scrambled eggs and take-out.
As she wheeled the cart through the store, she mulled over her conversation with Betty. What would it
have been like if she d stayed in Backwards Gulch? She picked up a package of salad greens and sighed.
Even the sound of it was ludicrous. It was impossible to picture herself stuck in Dev s cabin, day in and day
out. Why would she, when she could have her downtown apartment and her friends, a job with a byline and
www.samhainpublishing.com 41
Donna Alward
an actual social life? Restaurants and events and real shopping rather than a turn around the corner market.
Plays and concerts instead of fly fishing and baseball games on television.
And yet she couldn t get past the fact that he still got to her, perhaps even more so now that she knew
how great he d been to Betty. What had he gotten out of it? She wished she knew.
As a reporter, she longed to ask him.
As a long lost wife seeking a divorce, she couldn t afford the distraction.
He d been her first love. Her only love, if it came to that. She d never been comfortable doing more
than going on a few harmless dates back in Denver, simply for appearances sake. She was married, and
that meant something to her even if it was in name only. And lately she d started thinking it was going to
be a long road if she wouldn t have a relationship because of a piece of paper. She was stuck. And Dev had
to set her free. He was a detail that would be sure to come back and bite her in the butt later. Maybe if she
were free legally she d be able to get him out of her mind too. Maybe Amy was right. Maybe she needed it
legal so she could have closure.
She wheeled the shopping cart to the checkout, grabbing a bottle of wine on the way through no
more hard liquor for her. If she were going to convince Dev to let her go, she couldn t pick another fight.
She d cook him a nice dinner. After all, her mother had taught her early on that you caught more flies with
honey than vinegar, and this morning s argument had left a definite acidic taste in her mouth. They d sit
and talk like adults. Surely they could manage that much.
And tomorrow she d take her notes and her laptop and drive back to Denver. She d write her story,
lambasting the insurance industry for failing the ordinary American. God willing, she d get her promotion.
She and Amy would go out on the town to celebrate. She could leave Backwards Gulch and her past
behind, right where it belonged.
She drove her Miata through Durango, thinking about all she d heard and seen today. Maybe Devin
really thought she was exploiting the situation for her own agenda. He d certainly accused her of it. And
maybe she had been, in part. But not today, not after seeing Betty. She wanted to help. And if it meant
Devin got on her case about a story, so be it. Writing was what she knew how to do. It was the only way
she could think to bring notice to Betty s plight, to possibly help others like her.
As she headed towards Devin s, she realized that the focus had to be on the woman herself, not the
numbers. The quiet strength, the appreciation of her neighbors and friends. The woman was anything but
bitter, even though she had reason to be. Ella had been touched by it. That was what she wanted to write
about.
When she got back to the cabin it was eerily silent. It seemed to echo with scenes past and she fought
to ignore them, unloading the bags and putting everything in the fridge. It was only after she d put the roast
in the oven that she heard a rhythmic thunking sound coming from the backyard.
She put on her shoes and followed the sound.
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Devin was chopping wood. A stack of logs lay to one side, the pieces landing in a pile as he split them
with sure, strong strokes of the axe. She watched, heart skipping a beat, as he lined up a log, hitting it once,
twice, three times, splitting it in half. He took the halves, treating them to the same barbaric swings before
tossing all four pieces in the growing pile. She looked at him in a different light. She knew the cabin was as
run-down as it had ever been, yet he d helped Betty with groceries and household chores. Had he gone
without to do it?
He put his axe down alongside the stump he used as a platform for the wood. Ella opened her mouth
to call out, but shut it again as he stripped off his shirt and the T-shirt he wore underneath. Sweat
glimmered on his brow, his chest, creating a sheen as he lifted the axe again.
Ella stared with blatant fascination. His shoulders and arms bunched as he lifted the axe over his head,
his chest broad as he brought it down, and every single muscle in his upper body froze for a millisecond as
the axe bit and held in the wood until he pulled it out again. The muscles above his gloves corded as he
gripped the ash handle. Her blood heated. She d known that seeing him again would be difficult. But she
hadn t quite known how difficult. Or that she d be tempted. To stay forever? Hardly. But his sculpted body
was enough to make her twitchy. To touch him& taste him& yes, definitely.
Enjoying the show?
For a moment she wasn t sure he d spoken, as his arms kept swinging the axe. He stopped and threw
the pieces on the pile, then stood back, his weight on one hip, leering at her.
She had no idea how to respond. She d been caught out. Any smart comment she might have made
ran clear out of her brain. And to admit her thoughts would be a big mistake. Like touching a match to
gasoline.
Go stuff yourself.
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