Elizabeth Lowell - Forget Me Not

W HEN THE PHONE rang, Alana was almost relieved. Though it was before dawn, she was wide awake. Since she had come back from Broken Mountain, she had slept very little, and never peacefully.

Kicking aside the tangled sheets, Alana turned toward the phone. It was too early for anyone she knew on the West Coast to be up and about. That meant it was probably her brother in Wyoming calling to see how she was.

Calling to see if she remembered what had happened on Broken Mountain.

Hello, Alana said, keeping her voice steady with an effort.

Sis? Is that you?

Hi, Bob. Hows Merry?

Counting the weeks until February, said Bob, laughing. If she gets much bigger, well have to put her in a stall with the brood mares.

Alana smiled at the thought of petite, blond Merry tucked into one of the heated stalls Bob kept for his prize mares.

Better not let Merry hear you say that, Alana warned.

Hell, it was her idea. Bob paused, then said, Sis?

Alanas hand tightened on the phone. She had heard that tone before, little brother to big sister, a smile and affectionate wheedling.

He wanted something from her.

When are you coming home? Bob asked bluntly.

Alanas heart began to beat too fast. She didnt know how to tell her brother that she was frightened by the thought of returning to the ranch where Broken Mountain rose steeply, mantled in ice and darkness.

Before her last trip to Broken Mountain, Alana had loved the ranch, the mountains, the silence, the heights, and the clouds swirling overhead. She had loved the memories of Rafael WinterRafe reflected in every lake, every fragrant forest, sunsets and sunrises sweeping across the land like fire, the winds keening harmonies echoing the music Rafe had made on his harmonica.

Alana had come to love the land even more because she and Rafe had been part of it, lovers suspended between sky and mountains, more beautiful than either, timeless, burning with the sun.

But now those mountains terrified Alana.

Now the memories of Rafe were a brittle, cutting armor that she pulled around her like the colors of dawn, hoping to drive away the horror and darkness that crawled up out of the abyss of those six missing days.

I dont Alana began.

Her brother interrupted before she could refuse.

Ive already talked to your agent, Bob said cheerfully. He told me youve refused to accept any concerts and wont even look at the songs he sends to you.

Yes, but

Bob kept talking.

So dont tell me how busy you are, he said. If youre writing songs again, you can write them just as well here. Better. You always did your best work here.

With a conscious effort, Alana loosened her grip on the phone. She had no more excuses, so she said nothing.

Sis? I need you here.

Bob, I dont think Alana began.

Then her voice broke.

Dont say no, Bob said urgently. You dont even know what I want yet.

And you dont know what I want, Alana thought rebelliously. Youve never even asked if I want something.

The words went no further than Alanas thoughts, a silent cry of need. Yet even as the cry echoed in her mind, she recognized its unfairness.

What she needed, Bob couldnt provide. She needed warmth and reassurance, safety and a mans hard strength standing between her and the abyss, protecting her until she knew what had happened and could protect herself once more.

She needed love waiting instead of terror. She needed a dream to banish a nightmare.

She needed Rafael Winter.

But Rafe was just a dream. The nightmare was real.

With a deep breath, Alana gathered herself and set about living in her new world just as she always had lived. Alone, depending only on herself.

She had done this many times before, the deep breath and the determination to do the best she could with what she had, no matter how little that seemed to be when the nightmare descended like a storm.

What do you want? Alana asked softly.

You know cash has always been a problem with the ranch, Bob said quickly. Land poor, as they say. Well, Merry and I had this idea for a classyand I mean classydude operation. High-country fishing safaris for people who can pay high prices.

Alana made a neutral sound.

We had it all planned, all lined up, all our ducks in a row, Bob said. Our first two customers are very exclusive travel agents. Their clientele list reads like Whos Who. Everything was going great for us, and then...

And then? Alana prompted.

Merry got pregnant, Bob said simply. I mean, were both happy, weve been trying for two years, but...

But what?

Dr. Gene says Merry cant go on the pack trip.

Is that a problem?

Hell, yes. She was going to be our cook and entertainer and general soother, take the rough edges off. You know what I mean, sis.

Yes. I know.

It was the same role Alana had played in the family since she was thirteen and her mother died, leaving behind three boys, a devastated husband, and a daughter who had to grow up very quickly. That was when Alana had learned about reaching down into herself for the smile and the touch and the comfort that the people around her needed. She had rebuilt the shattered family as best she could, for she, too, needed the haven and the laughter and the warmth.

It will really be more like time off than a job, coaxed Bob.

Alana heard the coaxing, but it didnt move her nearly as much as the disturbing thread of urgency beneath the soft tone.

Riding and fishing and hiking in the high country just like we used to do. Youll love it, sis! I just know it. A real vacation for you.

Alana throttled the harsh laugh that was clawing at her throat.

Vacation, she thought, shuddering. In the mountains that nearly killed me. In the mountains that still come to me in nightmares.

Oh, God, thats some vacation my little brother has planned for me!

Sis, Bob coaxed, I wouldnt ask if I didnt really need you. I dont have anywhere else to turn. The pack trip is all set and the two dudes are here. Please?

Unexpectedly, a vivid memory of Rafe came to Alana.... Late summer, a narrow trail going up Broken Mountain, a lame horse, and a saddle that weighed nearly as much as she did. She had been leading the horse, dragging the saddle, and watching the silent violence of clouds billowing toward a storm. At fifteen, she knew the dangers of being caught on an exposed ridge in a high-country cloudburst.

Without warning, lightning had come down so close to her that she smelled the stink of scorched rock. Thunder came like the end of the world. Her horse had screamed and reared, tearing the reins from her hand. Then the horses lameness had been overridden by terror. The animal had bolted down the mountainside, leaving her alone.

She, too, had been terrified, her nostrils filled with the smell of lightning and her ears deafened by thunder. Then she had heard someone calling her name.

Rafe had come to her across the talus slope, riding his plunging, scrambling horse with the strength and grace she had always admired. He had lifted her into the saddle in front of him and spurred his horse back down the slope while lightning arced around the mountain.

Sheltered in a thick growth of spruce, she had waited out the storm with Rafe, wearing his jacket and watching him with the eyes of a child-woman who was more woman and less child with every breath.

On Broken Mountain Alana had found first fear, then love, and finally horror.

She wondered if there was another balance to be discovered on Broken Mountain, opposites joined in harmony, freeing her from nightmare.

The possibility shimmered through Alana like dawn through night, transforming everything.