Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [31]
Their ten days had been filled with poignant moments, many of which Kendra had caught in photographs. But few were more touching than the one capturing Elisa’s struggle to help her husband down the mountain. Years later, when she ran for the Senate, those photos had surfaced, and the image of the small, fiercely determined dark-haired woman supporting the tall, gaunt man down a dusty trail, his arms around her shoulders, had said all there was to say about Elisa’s strength and courage. Later, the picture had appeared in the local papers, and later still on the cover of a national newsmagazine in their issue on women in the Senate. The framed original now stood on the mantel in the front room of Smith House, where Kendra could see it daily, along with other beloved family photographs.
Driving into the hills had been a lonely journey for Kendra, but a necessary one. It was there that they’d last existed as a family, there that she’d first begun to understand the bonds between herself and her parents. Coming back so many years later had the feel of a sad pilgrimage. She couldn’t remember exactly where they’d camped or what streams they’d forded, but with the weather just starting to change, it wouldn’t have mattered. She’d have had to have a death wish to venture up into the mountains alone when the first of the winter storms was brewing. She went far enough to find a winding stream, sat on an outcropping of rock, and watched the water rush below her feet. The sun had been warm on her back and shoulders, and she tried to remember everything she could about that last trip. The way the coffee smelled and tasted first thing in the morning. The way the breeze blew up from nowhere and cast the scent of wildflowers from the hills across the meadow where she and Ian, still a toddler, chased butterflies. The stories her father had told them at night, huddled together around the fire as the air chilled, about his youth, about his hopes and aspirations, about his love for his family and the Pines where he’d grown up . . . about his dreams for his children . . .
And Kendra realized that the last thing her father, or her mother, would have wanted for her, would have been half a life. And that was exactly what she’d been permitting herself.
Survivor’s guilt, Kendra’s friend Selena, a psychologist, had suggested after she’d returned to the Pines the previous October.
“Not anymore,” Kendra had vowed on that autumn day, and she set about to renovate Smith House to accommodate her taste and her requirements. At the same time, she vowed to restructure her life, to set a new agenda for herself, one that would focus on her work and her personal commitments.
Her house was a joy to her now, she reflected as she stripped off the navy suit jacket she’d worn that morning and dropped it onto the bed that housekeeping had so neatly made up while she was gone. It had been worth every bit of time and effort and money she’d put into it. Smith House was truly her home now.
And working again was a joy as well, she acknowledged. She’d felt more alive over the past few days than she had in years.
Working with Adam Stark seemed to be just the icing on the cake.
She debated on whether to take him up on his offer for her to drive his car home, which of course would then require Adam to make a visit to the Pines to pick it up. Kendra lay back across the bed and closed her eyes. She had no trouble calling up his face. It was right there, in the forefront of her mind. Strong jawline, sculpted cheeks, and wide-set blue eyes. A mouth that drifted easily into a smile, a deep dimple on the left side. Dark hair just slightly longer than the Bureau liked.
The last time she’d gone out with him, they’d had dinner at a small Thai place that Adam had found in Georgetown. He’d brought her back to the hotel room she’d