Lover Beware

knew something was wrong and he knew it now as well.
    Sarah opened her eyes and looked at him with apprehension. “Donna.” She whispered the name.
    The wind whipped leaves from the trees and whirled them in small eddies of chaos and confusion. Sarah watched the whirling mass of leaves intently. Her fingers closed around his wrist. “I don’t think she’s far but we have to hurry. Call the sheriff’s office. Tell them to send an ambulance and to send a car over. I think one of your kidnappers did decide to shop at Donna’s.”
    She started away from him, toward the small house that sat behind the gift shop. It was overgrown with masses of flowers and bushes, a virtual refuge in the middle of town. “Wait a minute!” Damon hesitated, torn between making the phone call and following Sarah. “What if someone’s still there, and what if the sheriff thinks I’m a nut?”
    “Someone is still there and just say I said hurry.” Sarah flung the words back over her shoulder. She was moving fast, yet silently, lithely, so graceful she reminded him of a stalking animal.
    Damon swore under his breath and hurried back inside the store. Inez was standing just inside the beaded curtain. Her face was very pale. “What is it?” she demanded, her hand fluttering to her heart.
    “Sarah said to call the sheriff and tell them to hurry. She also said to call an ambulance. Would you do that so I can make certain nothing happens to Sarah?” Damon spoke gently, afraid the older woman might collapse.
    Inez lifted her chin. “You go, I’ll have a dozen cops here immediately.”
    Damon breathed a sigh of relief and hurried after Sarah. She was already out of his sight, lost behind the rioting explosion of flowers. He silently cursed his bum leg. He could go anywhere if he went slowly enough but he couldn’t run and even walking fast was dangerous. His leg would simply give out.
    His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he feared it would explode. Sarah in danger was terrifying. He had thought there was nothing left for him, yet she had come into his life at his darkest hour and brought hope and light. Laughter and compassion. She was even teaching him to appreciate Inez. Damon swore again, pressing his luck, using his cane to hold back the bushes while he tried to rush over the cobblestones Donna had so painstakingly used to build the pathway between her house and her shop.
    A soft hiss to his left gave Sarah’s position away. She was inching her way toward the door of Donna’s house, using several large rhododendrons as cover. Her hand signal was clear: she wanted him to crouch low and stay where he was. A humiliating thought. Sarah racing to the rescue while he hid in the bushes. The worst of it was, he could see that she was a professional. She moved like one, and she had produced a gun from somewhere. It fit into her hand as if she were so familiar with it, the gun was a part of her.
    Damon realized, for all their long talks together, he didn’t know Sarah very well at all. His heart and mind and soul wanted and needed her, but he didn’t know her. Enthralled, he watched as she gained the porch. Even the wind seemed to have stilled, holding its breath.
    Sarah turned back to look up at the sky, to lift her arms toward the clouds. Her face was toward the cliff house. Damon had a sudden vision of her sisters standing on the battlements in front of the rolling sea, raising their arms in unison with Sarah. Calling on the wind, calling on the elements to bind their wills together.
    The wind moaned softly, carrying the sound of a melodious song, so faint he couldn’t catch the words but he knew the voices were female. Dark threads spun into thick clouds overhead and the wind rushed at the house, rattling the windows and shaking the doors. The sky darkened ominously, fat drops of rain splattered the roof and yard. Damon tasted salt in the air. The rain seemed to come from the ocean itself, as if the wind, in answer to some power, had driven the salt water from the sea and spread it over the land.
    The wind pulled back, reminiscent of a wave, then rushed again, this time with a roar of rage, aiming at the entry. Under the assault, the door burst inward, allowing the chilling wind into the house. Sarah rolled in behind it, as papers and magazines flew in all directions, providing a small distraction. She was already up on one knee in a smooth motion, tracking with her gun.
    “I don’t want to have to shoot you, but I