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Pushing with his legs, he swung toward her, landing on the bluff right below her dangling foot.
“You have to let go,” he said. The sound of the surf seemed twice as loud as it had from the top of the bluff and he raised his voice, reaching up to touch her denim-covered leg. “Trust me.”
She looked down at him but hesitated. He wondered if she recognized him. Even if she did, why would she trust him? She didn’t remember she knew him, and the basic Ella he’d come to understand was a woman who liked to control her own destiny and didn’t trust easily.
“You sure that rope is strong enough for both of us?” she called.
He knew the rope was strong enough. They’d soon find out if the wood post at the top was. He said, “Would you rather hang around here all day?”
The tree creaked as she adjusted her weight. “Okay, point taken. Just be ready.”
“I’ll manage. Go slow. Keep a good grip on the tree as long as you can. Use me like a ladder. When you get down here where I can grab you around your waist, we’ll figure out how to get back up the cliff, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, and slowly began unhooking her death grip from the tree. He braced himself, tying off the rope around his waist so he could use both hands to grab her. Within a few moments, her foot hit his shoulder and his fingers wrapped around her calf. She all but slithered down his body until she paralleled him, one arm swung around his neck. The palm of her other hand was still bleeding and her clothes were splotched with blood.
She craned her neck and looked into his eyes. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was hushed and amazed.
“Saving you,” he said. “Hold on,” he added as he pushed them away from the bluff, shifting his weight to the left, landing a few feet back toward the direction he’d descended from. Ella caught on quickly and helped him by synchronizing her body movements to his, though he still wasn’t sure how he was going to climb hand over hand up this rope with her in tow.
He heard voices from above.
“Who’s up there?” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. Hell of a time to feel a surge of sexual recognition.
“I have no idea,” he muttered. There was suddenly new tension on the rope. Had some Good Samaritan figured out they needed help? “Other than your hand, are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” She glanced between their feet and added, “Just scared.”
“Don’t look,” he cautioned, though he knew from his own brief glance all she could really see was thick fog creeping through the brush and trees. It was the faraway sound of the crashing surf that was alarming.
More voices drifted down the bluff, and the rope slowly started pulling them upward. “Hold on to the rope with your good hand and me with the other,” he said. “Try to keep your feet against the cliff and walk with the rope.” He didn’t add that he hoped whoever was up there knew not to go too fast.
The most harrowing part was the last bump of rock that meant they hung suspended for what seemed an eternity, but after their feet hit the ground again it was simply a matter of taking the last few steps.
At the top, people reached for Ella and for him. Simon saw his rope had been tied to the towing wrench on a big four-by-four. The driver of the truck jumped out of the cab, clapping Simon on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear. Simon shook his hand and thanked him.
After a few moments, Simon sidled up to Ella, who stood shivering in the cold, a clean cloth someone had apparently given her wrapped around her left hand. “We need to get you to the hospital,” he said.
“No. I don’t have time for that,” she said. “My husband. Where is he?”
“After he saw you fall, he drove off. The attacker went after him.”
“Could you tell what direction they went?”
“North. Why?”
“Because we have to follow. The man with the beard was trying to kill Carl.”
“I know. But you need attention. There’s your head and the—”
He stopped a microsecond before saying the word baby and mumbled, “The cut on your hand to consider.”
“No, please, you’ve helped me this much. Can’t you help me just a little longer? Take me to the next town. I’ll rent a car.”
He wasn’t sure it would be smart to admit he’d been spying on her, that he knew she had to get to Tampoo. Feeling his way, he said, “Is your memory back, Ella?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you call me Ella? Carl calls me Eleanor.”
“Well, I—”
She shook her head impatiently, wincing as her eyes refocused. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. No, my memory hasn’t come back, but I now know I have a father who needs me. Something is happening that includes him, something Carl knows more about than he’ll tell me. I have to find Carl. I have to get to Washington.”
“The police,” he said firmly. “They can put an APB out on your rental.”
“No police!”
“But they can—”
“No,” she insisted. “I don’t want the police.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip. “Just promise, no police.”
“I don’t—”
“Listen, whatever my father is involved in is dangerous for him and apparently for Carl, too. Carl has a cell phone. If he wants to call the cops, let him.”
“Okay, okay, calm down.”
“Can’t we just drive north to the next town and see if Carl is there?”
Still he paused. Going about this on their own on the heels of that knife attack seemed foolhardy to him. But what about Ella? How deeply was she involved in all this? What had she done that she couldn’t remember? He knew she didn’t like police work, she’d complained about his job constantly, but without her memory, what was driving her to react to this extreme?
“Yes, okay, I’ll help you,” he said as though there’d ever been any real doubt he would.
She took a deep breath. Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair.
She began thanking their benefactors. Simon picked up his green cap from where he’d flung it. Nearby, a woman and her children seemed to be searching for the contents of Ella’s spilled handbag and pressing it back into her uninjured hand.
As they left the parking lot, Simon heard sirens approaching from the other direction. It appeared someone had called the fire department to come to the rescue.
“SO, WHY DO YOU CALL me Ella?”
The road they traveled ran high above the ocean with hairpin curves and trees everywhere. Most of the scenery was obscured by the fog. She looked over at him and saw his brows knit.
“My mother’s name is Eleanor. Everyone calls her Ella. I guess when I saw you fall I just switched back into an old habit.”
“Oh.” Well, that kind of made sense. She could see how that could happen. “I’m very lucky you saw me go over that cliff,” she added.
“I’d just driven up to the restaurant,” he said, “and noticed your husband and the big guy fighting. And then I saw you backing up to escape them.”
“You yelled a warning. You yelled Ella.”
“Yeah.”
“And then you ran toward me.”
“I didn’t think you saw or heard me,” he said, glancing at her and away as a big camper whizzed by going the other direction.
“I did but kind of in a hazy way. I was just so worried about that damn knife. And Carl had a gun. I didn’t know before that he…” Her gaze swiveled to him. “You had a gun, too! I glimpsed it in your hand.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Why do you carry a gun?”
“I don’t know if that’s any of your business,” he said, but his voice was gentle.
He had a point. Why was she grilling him? Why was she treating him as though she had the right to question anything he did?
He broke the awkward silence by adding, “Would you rather I call you Eleanor?”
“No,” she said at once. “I prefer Ella.”
“Then Ella it is.”
“It was very brave of you to come after me like you did. You saved my life. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Are you a fireman?”
“Why would you—oh, because of the rescue?”
“Yes. You know all about ropes. It just seems like the kind of stuff a fireman knows. Don’t they rescue people all the time?”
“Mainly we put out fires,” he said.
“So you are a fireman,” she said. “I was right.” That explained the muscles she’d felt under his clothes as she slid down his body and the way he’d balanced her weight as they scaled the mountain.
“I’m used to helping people out of jams,” he added.
“Let’s get something straight,” she said firmly. “I’m not expecting anything from you but a ride to a car rental place.”
“I understand.”
“I have to find Carl. He’s been lying to me.”
“Aren’t you worried the guy with the knife will catch up with him first?”
It was her turn for evasion. Worried? Hell yes, if it meant he carved Carl into little pieces. She wanted to ask Carl about her father; she didn’t want to find him dead.
Good heavens, was she really such a cold person that she could think like this about a man who claimed they had a good marriage? Yeah, well, he lied; he’d proven that this morning.
The silence was growing and, given the paucity of comforting thoughts in her brain, she blurted out, “You missed breakfast when you rescued me and then I dragged you away.”
“I’ll grab something later. Actually, I seldom eat before noon.”
“My dad was like that. Just coffee with cream. I’d sit in his lap and he’d give me sips.”
The words had left her mouth before she realized the significance of the thought behind them—or maybe a more accurate thing to say would be the lack of thought behind them.
Simon pulled the truck off the road into a lookout and set the warning lights. “You remember your father?” His voice sounded excited.
“Not really,” she said slowly. “I just suddenly remembered sitting on his lap, drinking his coffee, liking the cream.”
But there was more. The warmth of his arm around her waist as he held her, the faint odor of pipe tobacco, his deep voice booming above her head as she took tiny, sweet sips.
Already the memory, so tangible just a second before, began slipping away.
“That’s great,” Simon said. Hooking one strong arm over the steering wheel, he added, “We need to be honest with each other, not hold things back, don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. For a second, she was back in his arms, hanging from the rope. She’d been frightened, yes, but she’d also felt safe. She added, “I should tell you about the man in the restaurant. But couldn’t you drive while I did?”
He blinked a couple of times. “The man in the restaurant?”
“This will all make more sense if you know about him.” She motioned with her fingers. “Drive?”
He stared at her a second longer. “Okay,” he finally said, and within a few moments, he had merged back into traffic.
She told him about the old guy and the way he’d contrived to meet with her alone and her conviction that Carl had known about the meeting days before. Simon asked if she was sure the old man didn’t seem familiar in some way, and though she had to admit he’d appeared to be acquainted with her family, she had no idea who he was or who the man he’d called Jerry was, the man he’d said she was the last to see, presumably before she lost her memory.
They passed a sign announcing the next town a mile away. “So you can see why I need to get to Tampoo, Washington, can’t you? I don’t know what’s going on, but it must be serious. My father needs me. And Carl—he knows something he’s not telling.”
Simon slowed down as they entered the city. To Ella’s dismay it was bigger than Rocky Point. “I’ll never find Carl here,” she said.
“No, I don’t think you will,” Simon agreed.
“I thought I’d see our car, but there are hundreds of cars.”
“If he has someone on his tail, he won’t just pull over.”
“And the last time he saw me I was flying off a cliff. He probably thinks I’m dead.” She met Simon’s gaze and swallowed. If not for him, she would have wound up on the beach a long, long ways down.
Finding Carl was impossible, that was clear to her now, whereas it hadn’t been minutes earlier. What else was she missing? Was her light-headed wooziness her natural state of being or was it the result of the concussion?
As she stewed in her own inadequacies, Simon pulled into a grocery store parking lot.
“What are you doing?”
