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His warm fingers, rough with calluses, tilted her face up. Her vision was blurry from the tears. She blinked and they fell onto her cheeks, and she drew in a shaky breath. “Now you know. I killed my dad.”
“He’d be proud of you, you know.”
Her mouth dropped open slightly, and she stared at him. What in the world did he mean by that?
“He would have been proud you fought back and saved your life. Honestly, I can’t say I knew him well, but I know Carl Daniels would have wanted his daughter to be able to defend herself and be capable of getting away from someone hurting her.”
“But... it was my dad.” She didn’t know how to explain her confused feelings because she’d never quite managed to sort them out herself. Guilt and sorrow warred with her practical side, which reminded her again and again she hadn’t had a choice. If only her head could convince her heart.
Justin pulled Carly into his arms. She sank gratefully into the hug, hiding her face against his chest. The rumble of his voice was soothing. “No, he wasn’t your dad at that moment, just like you weren’t his daughter. As you said, Carl never would have hurt his daughter. You were someone else to him. A stranger. An enemy. And he was someone else, as well. He would have wanted you to save yourself, Carly. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that. Even if you had meant to kill him, I’d say the same thing.”
Carly closed her eyes. She could hear the strong, steady thump of his heart beneath her ear. “You’re not just saying that to try to make me feel better, are you?”
“I wouldn’t do that. If I thought you’d done wrong, I’d tell you. And then I’d tell you to forgive yourself and do better with your life from now on. But I don’t need to say that. Because you didn’t do anything that needs forgiveness.”
She could hear the sincerity in his words, and as she had told him before, she knew he was right in her mind, but her heart was another matter.
“Do you believe in God, Carly?”
The last question threw her. It seemed so out of the blue, and for a moment, Carly didn’t respond. “I suppose. I mean, I’m not religious, but I’m not an atheist, either.”
“Do you believe in the afterlife? Meeting up again with your loved ones?” She felt something brush against the top of her head and wondered if it was his lips.
She thought about it for a moment. “I like that idea. I’m not sure how much faith I put into it, but I hope it’s true. I would love to see Mom and Dad again.”
Justin’s voice was low and gruff. He tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted her face until she was looking up into his eyes. “The first thing he’ll do when he sees you, Carly, is tell you how proud he is of you and how much he loves you.”
“How do you know?” Carly asked. She didn’t want to sound snarky, but the question came out a little irritably, nevertheless.
“Because that’s how I’d feel.”
Three days later, Justin had to admit he was in trouble.
They had just left the town of Watson Lake after staring in bewilderment at the Sign Post Forest. Hundreds of poles and trees were covered in signs of all shapes and sizes, from road signs to hand painted plaques, which all bore the name of a town. Handwritten names and stickers adorned some of them. Some were veritable antiques, faded and weather-beaten, while others were bright and new.
“I wonder how something like this gets started?” Justin asked. He shook his head slightly as he gazed around at the innumerable messages around them. He’d never seen anything quite like this in all his travels. “Who was the first person who put up a sign, and why?”
“It’s leaving a mark,” Carly said. “It’s a way of telling the world, ‘I was here. I was.’ In that way, they can become a part of it, you know?” She reached out and touched a wood sign with burned letters that read Shreveport, with a name carved below. “This person—he imagined someone coming along fifty years from now and thinking of him, even just for a moment.” She traced over the letters, a thoughtful expression on her face. “The ancient Egyptians believed that as long as your name survived, you were immortal. Maybe people still think that way.” Sadness briefly crossed her face, but she turned away and they headed into the town.
The wagon was bulging with supplies. They could have taken more from Watson Lake if they’d had room, and Justin mourned that fact. Justin had even looked for a larger wagon or a second he could hook to Carly’s bike but had no luck. He could tell Carly was tired after a long day of scavenging, so they set up camp on the outskirts of town.
Carly and Sam had gone down to the lake for a bath and a swim, respectively. Justin was gathering firewood, and he honestly didn’t mean to go toward the lake, unless his body had become a tractor beam where she was concerned. That seemed likely, considering he’d woken the last two mornings on her side of the tent, with Carly’s back spooned against his chest. He’d managed, both times, to carefully ease away without waking her.
Carly stood with her back to him, her arms raised in graceful pale arcs above her head as she shampooed her hair. The wood fell out of Justin’s arms with a clatter, which she didn’t hear because Sam went bounding through the small waves at the shore to pounce on her and knock her into the water. Carly sputtered and laughed as she surfaced. She stood, and that’s when Justin knew he was doomed.
She was wearing a white tank top and white cotton shorts. He thought all women knew the danger of wearing white cotton in water, but Carly didn’t seem to realize she might as well have been nude for all the transparent-when-wet material revealed. She giggled and playfully lunged at the wolf.
She didn’t notice Justin in the tree line, intent as she was on her game with Sam. Sam darted around to her back and knocked her into the water again, and Carly laughed as she lunged to try and catch him. It was such a sweet sound. She didn’t laugh enough.
Yep. Doomed.
Feeling like a pervert, Justin gathered up the bundle of sticks and small logs he’d gathered and headed back to camp. He laid them in a pile on the ground beside the fire ring he had already constructed. Carly intended on starting the fire for practice. He sincerely hoped she changed her clothes first.
Justin had tried to fight his attraction to her. He told himself sternly he was much too old for her. He sure as hell wasn’t good enough for her; her father would have killed him before he’d allow Justin within ten feet of her. And it would be wrong to take advantage of her feelings of gratitude and dependence.
His body disagreed.
Vehemently.
