Angels Fall by Nora Roberts Page B

They didn't care that she lived, didn't know where she was if they did.
    She was alive—just an accident of fate, just the luck of the draw, she thought as she rubbed her fingertips over the scar the bullet had left behind.
    She was alive, and it was almost dawn of another day. And look, look there, it's… it's a moose coming clown to the lake to drink.
    "Now there's something you don't see every day," she said aloud. "Not in Boston. Not if you spend every minute pushing to move up, move forward. You don't see the light softening in the east and a knobby-kneed moose clopping out of the woods to drink."
    Mists flowed along the ground, she noted, thin as tissue paper, and the lake still as glass. And there, the light came on in Brady's cabin. Maybe he can't sleep, either. Maybe he gets up early to write so he can lie in the hammock in the afternoon and read.
    Seeing the light, knowing someone was awake as she was, was oddly comforting.
    She'd had the dream—or most of it—but she hadn't fallen apart. That was progress, wasn't it? And someone turned a light on across the lake. Maybe he'd look out his window as she was looking out hers, and see the glow in her window, too. In that strange way, they'd share the dawn.
    She stood, watching the light in the east streak the sky with pink and gold, then spread over the glass of the lake until the water glowed like a quiet fire.
    By the time she'd stocked her backpack according to the recommended list for a trail hike, it felt like it weighed fifty pounds. It was only about eight miles, up and back, but she thought it was better to be cautious and use the list for hikes over ten miles.
    She might decide to go farther, or she might take a detour. Or… whatever, she'd packed it now and wasn't unpacking it again. She reminded herself she could stop whenever she wanted, as often as she wanted, set the pack down and rest. It was a good, clear day—a free day—and she was going to take every advantage of it.
    She'd barely gotten ten feet when she was hailed.
    "Doing a little exploring this morning?" Mac asked her. He wore one of his favored flannel shirts tucked into jeans, and a watch cap pulled over his head.
    "I thought I'd hike a little bit of Little Angel Trail."
    His brows came together. "Going on your own? '
    "It's an easy trail, according to the guidebook. It's a nice day. and I want to see the river. I've got a map," she continued. "A compass, water, everything I need, according to the guide," she repeated with a smile. "Really, more than I could possibly need."
    " Trail's going to be muddy yet. And I bet that guide tells you it's better to hike in pairs—better yet, in groups."
    It did, true enough, but she wasn't good in groups. Alone was always better. "I'm not going very far. I've hiked a little bit in the Smokies, in the Black Hills. Don't worry about me, Mr. Drubber."
    "I'm taking some time off myselt today—got young Leon at the mercantile counter, and the grocery's covered, too. I could hike with you for an hour."
    "I'm fine, and that's not what you wanted to do with your day off. Really, don't worry. I won't be going far."
    "You're not back by six, I'm sending out a search party."
    "By six, I'll not only be back, I'll be soaking my tired feet. That's a promise."
    She shifted her pack, then set out to skirt the lake and take the trail through the woods toward the wall of the canyon.
    She kept her stride slow and easy, and enjoyed the dappled light through the canopy of trees. With the cool air on her face, the scent of pine and awakening earth, the dregs of the dream faded away.
    She'd do this more often, she promised herself. Choose a different trail and explore on her day off—or at least every other day off. At some point, she'd drive into the park and do the same, before the summer people flooded in and crowded it all. Good, healthy exercise would hone her appetite, and she'd get in shape again.
    And for mental health, she'd learn to identity the wildflowers the