For the love of my life. Only God could stop me loving you.
______________
"Oh God. Stop. Stop. Stop!" Julie Hargreaves screams as her car skids out of control toward the edge of the cliff. Sliding sideways along the wet icy road, her heart in her throat as her SUV skims dangerously close to the sheer drop. Closing her eyes she feels the back wheel of her car slip over the edge, her world plummeting into darkness as her head smashes hard against the side window. Her car drops from the road, coming to a sudden stop below as it crashes against the side of a tree.
* * * * * * *
The bitter cold of the wind sends shivers down his spine as the pair step outside. The gray of the sky overhead threatening a wet afternoon as they make their way towards the lake, the wind picking up speed as they move steadfastly through the thick undergrowth of the forest floor. The narrow lake spanning over ten kilometers through the center of the forest that borders the sleepy town, flowing slowly as the current eases it's hunger, sending small ripples to the surface as the white foam drifts silently toward the shore. Quietly surveying the waters, Charles finds a spot behind some low bushes. Laying out a blanket, his dog Jet sits beside as he loads the shells into the gun.
"Ready girl?" Charles whispers as he cocks the gun, resting it against his shoulder he carefully aims at a family of ducks making their way across the lake. "What the...?" Looking back through the sight Charles focuses on the cloud of smoke making it's way through the forest from across the lake.
"Come on Jet," he says as he gathers up the blanket. "Better go check this out." Looking up puzzled, Jet follows as Charles makes his way, wading across the lake.
The smoke billowing up into the afternoon sky as they make their way through the uncharted part of the forest. The scrub surrounding them as they stumble their way through the density of the brush. Seeing the mangled wreck ahead of them, Charles drops his knapsack and runs toward the smoldering car. Pulling desperately at the driver's door he wrenches it open. Slumping out from the opened door, her hair bloodied by the gash on the side of her face, he reaches over and unleashes the seatbelt before pulling her free from the vehicle. His old army ways suddenly taking over as he checks for a pulse, loosening her shirt as he clears her airways.
"We'd better get away from here girl," he says as he picks up the motionless figure. "That thing looks like it could blow at any moment." Reaching down to pick up his knapsack, they make their way back toward the lake. The weight of the body slowing down their travels, breathless as they reach the shallow banks that lead back to their cabin. "Rest up Jet, this old bloke needs a breather."
Looking to be in her early forties, Charles slides a bloodied strand of hair from her face as he examines her more closely. The dried trail from a stream of blood still staining the side of her mouth, contrasting against the pale pink of her lips. Her perfectly manicured eyebrow and defined cheek bones, now bruised and bloodied, yet unable to hide the natural beauty hidden beneath. The crimson blouse stained and darker in patches from where the blood had spilled, slightly sticking to her slender shoulder. Tracing his eyes down her torso, Charles inhales slowly as he moves his gaze over her slender waist.
"She's definitely a looker," he says averting his gaze to Jet. "Come on girl, we'd better get her to the cabin and get her warmed up." Lifting her over his shoulder, they make their way across the shallow patch of water separating them from the trail leading back to the cottage. Running ahead, the old blue heeler nudges the door to the cabin open and sits on the porch waiting for her master.
* * * * * * *
"Who the fuck is she?" Margaret's voice vehement as the plate smashes hard against the wall. Her eyes narrow slits as her fists clench tight at her sides.
"I found her by the lake. Shit Maggie, I could hardly leave her there, could I?"
"But you put her in Mark's room!" Her voice raising to fever pitch, her eyes ablaze as she glares at Charles. Shaking his head he gives up trying to reason with her, not while she was in this mood.
"Okay then," Charles says emphatically. "When she regains consciousness I'll move her out." Feeling her glare on him as he turns away, Charles walks out of the room half expecting her to follow him, relieved when she doesn't.
* * * * * * *
Feeling like a vice is closing in slowly around her skull, Julie struggles to open her eyes. With a loud moan she cups her hand against her forehead, the throbbing pain pounding inside her head. The side of her face stinging as her fingers brush lightly over the large gash, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth, she slowly blinks her eyes open. The light streaming in through the partially closed curtains burning her eyes against the darkness of the room. Suddenly realizing she has no idea where she is, fear takes over her senses. Forcing her eyes to focus she makes out the fuzzy outline of an old dresser to one side of the room. The mirror above reflecting the window, brightening the ray of sunshine invading the otherwise perfect darkness. Squinting her eyes Julie looks at the small bedside table to her left, on top is what looks like an old oil lamp with a small flame flickering, illuminating the dark glass encasing it.
Her thoughts awakened as she suddenly senses somebody in the room. Unable to speak, her heart pounding rapidly she listens as the soft sounds of the foot steps near. As the hand moves to her forehead Julie inhales sharply, an involuntary shiver charges up her spine.
"Well hello there," the soft voice says. The hazy image hovering beside the bed, slowly lowering as it sits down on the side of the mattress. "You had a pretty nasty accident there love." Julie's mind a mash of confusion as she opens her mouth to speak. Moaning out against the pain she instead lays back silent. "You rest up love, I'll go make you some soup. You need to build your strength up."
Watching the figure leave, the door closing silently behind, Julie struggles to raise herself. Her head feeling as though it could explode at any given moment she gives up her struggle and sighs as her head sinks back against the pillow. Hearing the shouting voice of a woman coming from somewhere outside the room she strains to hear.
"Get her out!" Margaret hisses as Charles pours the soup into the pot. Looking up at the woman towering over his slouched figure, he shakes his head defiantly.
"It's only for a few days. She's in no condition to be moved anywhere," Charles says as he gently stirs the soup.
Laying silent, Julie listens as the muffled voices continue to argue, no doubt fighting about her. The voices falling silent moments before she hears the soft creak of the door opening to her room. Opening her eyes still an effort as she blinks, slowly the hazy image comes into view. Her head still pounding she manages to force a smile as the figure nears the side of the bed.
"I... I heard voices," Julie manages to whisper. Placing the soup on the bedside table, Charles glances momentarily at her.
"Sorry," Charles apologizes, "That's Margaret. She means well." Resting his hand on her forehead he sighs. "I'm sorry love, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Charles. Charles Newport. The woman you heard is my wife, and this," he says, waving his hand as he looks around the small room, " is Mark's room. He's our son. He's away..." his voice trailing as he averts his attention back to Julie. "And your name, Miss?"
"Julie," her voice barely a whisper as she struggles over the pain to answer.
"Well, Julie, it's nice to make your acquaintance. If you need anything just holler." Realizing his mistake, he quickly adds," Maybe I should get you a bell to put beside the bed. Sorry love, you must be in a lot of pain. Your car was pretty messed up when we found you, you're one lucky lady to be alive." Making out a hazy smile, Julie manages to smile weakly in return. "I'll let you rest, Julie. I'll come back and check on you later." With that Charles makes his way out of the room closing the door softly behind him.
* * * * * * *
"Sheriff. What brings you out this late?" Charles asks as he opens the door.
"We found a car down by Dead Man's Bend. There was no sign of the occupant, I'm just wondering if you've seen anybody wandering lost in the woods. There was a lot of blood inside the car so no doubt they'll be in need of medical attention."
Half closing the door behind him, Charles steps out onto the porch beside the Sheriff.
"Can't say I have, sorry Sheriff." Reaching behind him, Charles pulls the door closed. "If I see anyone I'll be sure to call you."
"Well the car is registered to a Julie Hargreaves. We're still waiting for a photo to come in from the Licensing Bureau, but in the mean time if you do see anyone..." Hearing the scratching coming from behind the closed door, the sheriff looks questioningly at Charles. "My God, that's Jet?"
"Yep," Charles says, grateful at the change of topic. "The old girl's going on fourteen years now. Starting to show her age but she still loves it when I take her out to the lake." Nodding, the sheriff makes his way to his car.
"Well anyway, I'd better check with the old Simpson property, see if they've seen anyone wandering." Gesturing his farewell as he tips his hat, the sheriff climbs into his squad car and reverses out the long gravel driveway. Watching until the car disappears from view, Charles makes his way back inside locking the door behind him.
* * * * * * *
Rousing from her sleep, Julie forces open her weary eyes. Seeing the retreating figure of a woman quickly leaving her room, she opens her mouth to call out, but the pain still thumping in her head making her voice a dull, husky whisper. With a heavy sigh she watches the door finally close, leaving her alone in the darkness. With no idea of time, Julie glances toward the curtained window. Her vision still hazy, but able to make out the drapes drawn tightly together with no chance of sun or moon light getting through to give her any indication of time.
