Unconsciously, she pressed a hand to her belly, as if to protect what had lived there.
"Then the contractions. I knew what they were, you remember that pretty quick. But this was meaner, it wasn't progress. The way labor pains are. It was an ending, an ending with all that blood on the snow."
"He wanted to threaten you, through Simon." Flynn's face hardened. "It's not going to happen. We're not going to let him."
"I think that's part of it. Trying to scare me, using Simon to do it. And I think that's one of the reasons he yanked me out of the last one, too, and told me to choose. I can tell you, as soon as I came back, saw Moe standing there growling, I was up and in Simon's room like a shot."
And shaking like a leaf, she remembered now. "But he was just all sprawled out the way he gets, one leg hanging off the bed and the blankets all wrapped around the other. I swear, that boy can't be still even when he's sleeping." "He was using Simon as another symbol." Brad poured coffee, and since she hadn't taken any for herself as yet, handed a mug to her.
Her gaze met his as she nodded, as the fear fluttered at the base of her throat. "That's what I worked out of it, too."
"A symbol for what?" Dana demanded. "Her life?"
"Her life, yeah," Brad replied. "And her soul. Choose. Comfort, tedium, or the loss of everything she is. He threw down the gauntlet."
"He did. But I think—I wonder if he doesn't know Simon's safe. Maybe he can't see that he's protected and that it won't do him any good to try to threaten me that way."
"You could be right. But," Brad continued, "I'd say he'll find out soon enough, then look for something else to use on you."
"As long as it's not my baby. Anyway, what happened made me think harder about the clue. It pissed me off," she said with a quick laugh. "So I spent more time trying to work it out. I had this idea that maybe the Valley's like my forest. The different things I've done or selected are like the paths."
"Not bad," Dana told her.
"It was something to work on. I took an hour early this morning and drove around, sort of tripping down memory lane. Trying to see it the way I did when I first came, and track how things changed for me."
"Or how you changed them," Brad put in.
"Yes." Pleased, she gave him one of her rare smiles. "I don't know if it's the right direction, but I'm putting together places and, well, events, I guess, that seem important to me personally. If I gather them up in my head maybe one will stand out. If I start heading the right way, it seems to me Kane won't like it. Then I'll know."
IT was hard to imagine herself in a pitched battle with anyone, much less a sorcerer. But she wasn't going to back down at the first punch. If there was one thing she knew how to do, Zoe determined, it was how to stick it out.
Maybe she wouldn't find the key, but it wouldn't be because she hadn't looked.
She spent Sunday evening plowing through notes, scanning the books they'd collected on Celtic myths, and tiptoeing her way around the Internet on the laptop Flynn lent her.
She didn't know if she learned anything new, but the exercise helped line up what she did know.
The key, wherever it was, would be personal to her. It would relate to her life, or to what she wanted out of life. And in the end, it would come down to a choice. Though her friends, one or all of the
m, might be connected to it, she would be the only one able to make the choice.
So what did she want? Zoe asked herself as she prepared for bed. An afternoon in a hammock? Sometimes it was just as simple as that. To know she'd shoved her way out of the door of that trailer and moved on? No question about that.
And that she'd found her way out of that terrifying forest, and given her child not only life but a good life.
She needed to know those things, and to know that she would keep building that life for Simon, and herself. She needed Indulgence to be a success. That was partly pride.
Her mother had always said she was too proud.
Maybe she had been, and maybe that pride had made things harder than they might have been. But it had also carried her through the hard times.
She hadn't gotten everything she'd dreamed of, but what she had would do just fine.
She turned off the light. If there was a pang that there was no one there, in the dark, she could turn to, there was the satisfaction, even the pride, of knowing she could always rely on herself.
She was working upstairs at Indulgence the next day, screwing the hardware onto her completed stations, when she heard the shouts from below. Excited shouts, she noted immediately, not distressed ones. So she finished the station she was working on before going down to see what was causing the commotion.
Following the voices, she walked into Dana's section, then let out a shout of her own when she saw the book display rack lining one wall and the two huge cartons in the middle of the floor.