It was late in the afternoon the day they reached a trail that was little more than a thin ribbon of rock overgrown in places with bright-green moss. It looked vaguely familiar, and she frowned. It was quiet here, and dark despite the narrow thread of sunlight high overhead that insistently pierced the barrier of rock and thickly intertwined branches.

Leaves brushed her face. The silence was dense and heavy, as if a curtain had been drawn over the world. There was only a faint trickling sound, distant, musical, as if all other sound had been absorbed by the lush growth of trees and vines.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, she knew suddenly where they were—back at the falls that plunged from high rock into the clear, cool basin below. The noise burst upon them like fiesta fireworks, sudden and deafening.

“Steve—?” Her voice was smothered by the noise of the falls, but he turned in his saddle to look at her. His blue eyes were remote beneath his long lashes.

“We need a place to stay for a while. It’s safe here. I don’t want you to worry, and I need to stay out of sight for a few weeks.”

His tone was soothing, as if he were talking to a child.

She was quiet for a moment, ducking a branch as they rode down the wooded trail. The drowning remnants of apathy began to lift, buoyed by hope. It was secluded here, a paradise refuge from not only the world, but her own dark memories.

They rode down the steep decline into the rocky basin formed by a volcano thousands of years before, their silence demanded by the very thunder of falling water crashing over the high black rocks to the pool below. Cascades formed by dozens of smaller rocks made a lacy veil of froth and spume that dampened the air so that Ginny’s hair curled gently against her cheeks.

Oddly, it was warm here, when the water should have made it cool. Perhaps it was because towering, jagged rocks held warmth from the sunlight that glittered on the water. Tiny rainbows arced, forming bridges across the swirling pool.

To Ginny, the falls represented a time of great contentment. She drew in a deep breath. She was glad they had come back here, where they had enjoyed each other before, like two carefree children. Whatever happened, she would always have those memories.

36

Cascading water had become a constant, soothing sound that blotted out everything else close to the pool. Ginny moved downstream a bit, slipping a little on the slick surface of rocks worn smooth by centuries of water currents washing over them. Her feet were bare; she wore the loose garments of a peon, a billowing camisa and baggy pants that reached her ankles.