Paradise Peak (New Americana 5)

“Haven’t we all.” Red’s bushy, gray eyebrows lifted. “And what about mine?”

“Your sleeping beauty?”

When Red nodded, Hannah glanced back at the door of the motel room, her chest warming as she thought of Margaret sitting on the floor with Zeke earlier that afternoon, drying his eyes and coaxing him into laughter as they’d played with Blondie. Margaret had sat by Liz’s side for over two hours after that, holding her hand and never speaking—offering silent, unconditional comfort with tears rolling down her own cheeks.

Hannah smiled at the memory of Margaret, an hour ago, hogging the bathroom mirror to braid her long hair, fasten it with a pink bow, then apply three different facial moisturizers before easing carefully into the bed, propping a pillow at just the right angle behind her head to avoid what she referred to as neck wrinkles and suggesting Gloria do the same.

Only Margaret. Hannah laughed and shook her head. “She snores.”

Red tipped his head back and chuckled, but his laughter slowly died as he stared up at the sky. “Ain’t it something?” he asked softly.

Hannah followed his gaze to the thin puffs of gray smoke that drifted on the wind, stretching and swirling in front of winking stars.

“Yesterday, in Paradise, this sky was red and that smoke so thick, you could choke on it,” Red said. “And to see it now . . .” His voice thickened. “I should’ve seen it then, before it hit us. Before it reached Paradise and burned it all to hell. Before it killed good people like Ben and left spouses and children like Liz and Zeke with nothing. I should’ve sensed it, should’ve—”

“Don’t do that,” Hannah whispered. “Please don’t blame yourself. Pain does that. It makes you want to blame any and everyone. Once things settle, there’ll be more than enough blame passed around, and no one person will be responsible for all of it. No one could’ve foreseen how awful this would become.”

“You did.” His eyes fixed on hers, regret shadowing the once lighthearted blue depths. “You tried to tell me. You knew what was coming.”

“Because I was afraid.” Hannah pressed a hand to her chest. “In here. All the time.” Eyes burning, she blinked hard, then refocused on the smoke and stars above them. “Did I tell you that when we went to Black Bear Lodge, looking for you and Margaret, the clerk I spoke with added my name to her survivor list?” She laughed, humorless and full of pain. “Funny, that. After I left Bryan, that’s what people called me, too—a survivor. A word like that should make you feel strong. Powerful, even. And it did. But inside, I still hurt so much. I was still afraid of him. Of strangers, and the world. Of who I was.”

She glanced at Red. The confusion in his eyes made her mouth curve into a sad smile. “How could part of me have been strong enough to walk away, and the other part still too afraid to live? I may be a survivor, but sometimes I still feel like a victim, and I could not find a way to reconcile the two. Some people can’t understand that there’s no time limit on the fear or the pain—it shows up whenever it chooses.”

Red grimaced, his eyes glistening beneath the brief glow of the stars before another swath of smoke rolled in and cast a shadow over his face. “And here I was, telling you to focus on the good. Demanding you move on and forget.”

Hannah covered his hand with hers. “No. There’s nothing wrong with looking for the good in life—and in people—instead of the bad.” She squeezed his hand. “There was good in Bryan. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. But there was bad, too. There’s bad in all of us, I suppose.”

Red sighed, his free hand curling around her upper arm as he leaned against her. “I guess you and I should try to be more like each other, then.”

“Yes,” Hannah whispered. “That’s the sweet spot I was thinking of.”

“So tell me,” he said softly, “what good things should we look for now?”

Hannah tipped her chin in the direction of the mountain range, its rugged ridges and deep valleys still damaged and dark. “When the roads open, we go back to the ranch and look for the good that’s left on the mountain. We find the horses, check the lodge and cabins, and survey the land to assess the extent of the damage. Then, if need be, we rebuild.”

The breeze picked up and the curtains of smoke above them parted, revealing bright stars and midnight sky.

Hannah smiled. “And we bring our most valuable asset with us.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Red nudged her with his shoulder. “And that is . . . ?”

“You.” She patted the back of his hand, then looked over her shoulder at the closed door of the motel room. “Margaret.” Her gaze moved to Travis, a warm flutter stirring in her belly at the sight of his handsome face. “And Travis.” She faced Red again and smiled wider. “Our family.”

“Family?” A pleased expression crossed Red’s face and moisture seeped into the crow’s feet beside his eyes. “You mean Margaret and her swan napkins? And a stranger like Travis?”

Hannah laughed. “I’ll get over the swan napkins.” She lifted her hands in the air. “Who knows? I may learn to love them.”

“And Travis?” Red asked quietly, his solemn eyes searching hers. “Are you learning to love him, too?”

Was she? Hannah thought of how tender Travis had been when he’d kissed and held her last night. How secure his touch had felt in the truck, shielding her from danger. And how sincere her words had been when he’d asked her the same question as Ben.

“I trust Travis,” Hannah whispered, glancing back at his sleeping form. “He’s a good man. Gentle, protective, and kind. A hero, really, after all he did yesterday. I believe in him.” She smiled. “And, yes. I think I may be falling in love with him.”

Red chuckled softly, happiness lighting his expression. “Can’t say I’m not happy to hear that. I admire him as much as you, and considering all that praise, I imagine he’s one person you’d be hard pressed to find any bad in.”

Hannah’s smile slipped as she thought of the guilt that had haunted Travis’s eyes earlier that day when Margaret had hugged him. Some dark secret lurked inside him—a hidden pain of some kind, maybe? One she might be able to persuade him to share with her sometime soon? Once he learned to trust her as much as she trusted him?

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But I hope to learn everything about him.”