Fighting against a rising claustrophobia as the stifling closeness of the tiny room crowded in on her, she went to a window and pulled back a dusty heavy drape. Dirty streams of water ran down the glass pane, and the raging storm outside warned that it would be stupidity to try and open the window.
Leaving the dangling ceiling light on, she lay down on the small bed still wearing the purple robe. Her body remained rigid for a long time until slowly her mental and physical exhaustion claimed her. Finally, with the smell of cheap perfume invading her nostrils, she relaxed, and slept.
THE ROOM WAS STILL in shadows when she woke, but a thin line around the window draperies told her it was morning. Eight o’clock, to be exact, she realized as she checked her wristwatch. She lay there for a moment, unconsciously listening for the noisy fury of the storm that had been in her ears for so many hours.
Stillness. No lashing rain. No thunder. The storm was over. Breathing a prayer of thanksgiving, she went over to a window, drew aside the faded curtain, and peered outside.
The weather was gray and dank, and the scene that greeted her eyes instantly dissipated her sense of well-being. Heavily wooded mountains rose to jagged and barren peaks against the colorless sky.
She could see a line of rustic cabins stretched along the river. All apparently empty. No smoke wafted from any of the chimneys, no cars were parked in the adjoining carports and no hint of anyone moving about.
He had lied to her. The place was closed down. A cold chill prickled the back of her neck. No one was around except him and his crazed grandfather.
Turning away from the window, she crossed the room and cautiously opened the door. She blinked in disbelief as she looked down at the neat pile of her own clothes, lying there washed and dried. The swell of gratitude was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She even blinked back grateful tears as she picked them up and made her way to a central bathroom a short distance down the hall.
She hurriedly took off the purple robe and socks and threw them in the corner. Once she was dressed again in her yellow slacks and summer top, she almost felt in charge of herself and the situation.
Her sense of confidence was short-lived, however. When she came into the kitchen, the old man was sitting at the table, eating. The minute he saw Stacy, he began jabbing his fork in her direction, shrieking, “Out! Out of my house.”
“Stop it, Gramps!” Josh ordered as he swung around to face his grandfather. He’d been standing in front of the stove, tending to a sizzling skillet. “If you’d wear your blasted glasses, you’d see the lady doesn’t look anything like Glenda.”
“I ain’t eatin’ with the likes of her,” his grandfather retorted. With the belligerent stubbornness of a child, the old man shoved back his chair, lumbered to his feet, and stomped his way out of the kitchen with a loud thumping of his cane.
“Sorry about that,” Josh said with an apologetic smile. “Are you ready for breakfast? Come on, sit down. Would you like some scrambled eggs and bacon?”
“No, thank you. I…I’m not much of a breakfast eater.” If she’d had any appetite it had been squelched by his grandfather’s hostile greeting. More than anything, she wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
“I’d like to use your telephone, make arrangements for recovering the car and getting a ride to Timberlane.”
“Sorry, the storm knocked out service. Probably won’t be back in use for a couple of days. The telephone company takes its time getting to us.”
“Don’t you have a cell phone?”
“Nope, I’ve tried using one, but it kept breaking up and wasn’t any good in these mountains.” He pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
As Stacy glanced at the back door, Josh suspected that she was considering walking out of the house right then and there. Not that he blamed her. His grandfather’s explosive tirades would put anyone on edge, and she’d handled herself better than he would have expected any woman caught in these circumstances.
“It wouldn’t do much good to call a towing company if your car has already been swept miles down the river,” he said gently.
“I was driving a rental car, and it’s important I inform them about the accident.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast, Miss Ashford? Then I’ll get out the pickup, and we’ll head down to the river and assess the situation.”
She noticed that he didn’t volunteer to drive her into Timberlane so she could use the phone there. At the moment, she had no alternative but to go along with his suggestion. She sat down and accepted the cup of coffee he offered.
“You’re sure about breakfast?”
“Well, the bacon does smell good. Maybe a couple of pieces and a piece of toast.”
He turned away, so she couldn’t see his smile of victory. He realized for the first time, as he watched her eat, that she was a damned attractive woman. More than just pretty, in his judgment. Even without any makeup, her full, nicely curved mouth, slender nose and heavily lashed soft blue eyes commanded a natural beauty. He’d become so used to women in mannish shirts and denim pants he couldn’t help but notice how her thin summer top revealed the soft smoothness of her neck and accented the firm fullness of her breasts. He did his best to keep his gaze from lingering there.
What was a woman like her doing alone in these parts? She hadn’t offered anything but her name and the fact that she had family in Timberlane. It puzzled him. As far as Josh knew there weren’t any Ashfords anywhere in the immediate area. He kept his curiosity in check, and as soon as she finished eating, they left the house.
He led the way to a pickup truck with more mud than paint showing on it. The interior was scarred and the upholstery on the seats worn.
As they drove away from the house and passed some of the empty cabins, Stacy couldn’t help remarking, “Business must be bad.”
The muscles in his cheeks tightened. “August is usually our busiest summer month, but recent repairs on the bridge have closed us down for six weeks now.” He shot her a stern look. “If your car has damaged some of the new bulwark, our hopes for a busy September may be shot.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” she stammered, realizing for the first time how her accident might affect him and his livelihood. No wonder he’d been gruff and distant with her. Under the circumstances his attitude was understandable. She felt guilty for having endowed him with all kinds of unfounded motives for rescuing her. She’d certainly imposed upon him enough. If he took her as far as the road, she could, perhaps, flag someone down and catch a ride into Timberlane.
When they reached the bridge, Josh’s worst fears were realized. Her rental car was still there and resting against a cement reinforcement that had been knocked out of position. The bridge shook as Josh drove the pickup over it, making it clear that it wouldn’t be safe for general traffic until it could be repaired.
He stopped the pickup, got out, and surveyed the abandoned car. Swollen waters had engulfed the front of it, but the back doors seemed free. “I’ll take a look and see if I can get some of your things. Is the trunk locked?”
“Yes, but I put my two suitcases on the back seat, and my purse is in the front.” She swallowed hard. “Are you sure it’s safe to try and get them?”
“We won’t know until I try.” His blunt tone cut off all argument. Reaching into the back of the truck, he took out a pair of hip waders and pulled them on over his jeans. Then he waded down the embankment to the muddy swath her car had cut when she missed the road.
As she watched him, the terror of the storm came back with its shrieking wind, clawing torrents of rain, and the