Capture the Moment, page 1
CAPTURE THE MOMENT
KC LUCK
Capture the Moment by KC Luck
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons either living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 KC Luck Media
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
About the Author
Thank you
Also By KC Luck
iReadIndies
1
“Jen, listen to me. I know your situation sucks, and they are treating you like crap, but maybe it isn’t such a bad thing. You were better than that job,” Gabby said as she refilled their glasses of red wine from the nearly empty bottle on the antique coffee table. They were seated on Jennifer’s well-worn faux-leather sofa. A soothing Enya track played softly in the background, and a small cutting board of sharp cheddar cheese and crackers offered them snacks to nibble on. “This is your chance to take some time off and get away from it all.”
Taking the full glass, Gabby offered, Jennifer Harris studied the wine in her hand with her dark brown eyes and sighed with resignation. “Even if I wanted to go on a vacation, that would take money, of which I have pretty much zero,” she said before taking a sip. “Especially now.”
Gabby leaned into the cushions of Jennifer’s couch and pulled her bare feet up under her. “I know that you’re in a bind financially,” she said. “But I have the perfect solution.”
Jennifer raised a dark eyebrow. In the past, sometimes her friend’s perfect solutions turned out to be near disasters. One time Gabby convinced Jennifer she needed to get a rescue cat. Jennifer quickly found out that she was horribly allergic to cat dander. The idea of a dog was out of the question. Even though she loved them, it was more responsibility than Jennifer could handle. Clearly seeing Jennifer’s suspicion on her face, Gabby laughed and pointed at her. “I know what you’re thinking, but this time it’s different. This time is a sure thing.”
Unable to help herself, Jennifer snorted a laugh of her own. “Oh, now I’m truly worried,” she said. “I’m not going to do it, no matter what you suggest.”
“Don’t be like that,” Gabby said, giving Jennifer’s shoulder a playful push. “Listen to me. Do you remember me talking about Riley? My cousin?”
Tapping her chin, Jennifer paused thoughtfully. “Let me think for a second,” she answered before smiling. “Only about a thousand times.”
Gabby laughed again. “Okay, okay, you may be right,” she said. “But I can’t help it. She’s super interesting.” Jennifer had to agree that Gabby’s cousin Riley Keaton sounded like a very intriguing character—an award-winning wildlife photographer renowned for her ability to capture the essence of the Pacific Northwest. Jennifer had seen some of her work in small local Portland magazines and found the images breathtaking.
She nodded. “I agree,” Jennifer said. “But what does she have to do with me, my lack of employment, and the idea of getting away for a while?”
Setting down her wine, Gabby clasped her hands with excitement. “My idea is completely relevant because Riley has a rustic cabin on the edge of her property that she lets me stay in whenever I want,” she said. “All I have to do is text her and let her know you’re going to stay there for a few weeks.”
Raising her eyebrows, Jennifer wasn’t sure what she expected, but what Gabby proposed wasn’t it. “Like a log cabin? Where the heck does your cousin live?”
“Down by Coos Bay right on the beach. It’s breathtaking there.”
Not hating the idea but still not completely trusting her friend, Jennifer narrowed her eyes. “How rustic?”
Gabby grinned. “Don’t worry,” she said. “There is electricity, indoor plumbing, and a shower with hot water. A little kitchenette and a wood stove. But most of all, it has incredible views.” She leaned closer. “Imagine it. Taking morning walks along the beach, watching the sunset with a glass of wine on the porch every night, listening to the sound of nature instead of Portland traffic.” Jennifer tilted her head and hummed to herself as she considered how nice that sounded. Clearly seeing her friend was starting to be convinced, Gabby picked up her wine again and swirled the liquid in her glass before taking a drink. “And most of all, it is completely secluded. Nobody would bother you. You could take a legitimate break from it all before coming back and finding a new position worthy of your talents.”
With her mind spinning with all the possibilities, Jennifer couldn’t help but be lured by the prospect of a timeout. A few weeks alone could be good for me. It would help me figure out what I really want to do next, she thought. Maybe I could even start writing the novel I have always wanted to write. “And you’re one hundred percent certain your cousin won’t mind?”
Crossing her heart with her free hand, Gabby nodded. “One hundred percent. I’ll text her tonight and let her know you’ll be there tomorrow.”
Riley Keaton stood silently among the damp evergreens and waited as dusk slowly descended around her. Her window of opportunity was slight, but after tracking the incessant nocturnal song of the Northern saw-whet owl for two weeks, she could sense she was close to her prize. One particular bird she hunted almost seemed to taunt her every night, crying out his shrill trademark too-too-too to declare his territory and call for a mate. The month of April was prime mating season for owls in the heavy forest near the Oregon Coast, and Riley intended to make the most of it. Throughout her ten-year career, she photographed dozens of different types of birds, but she had never been able to capture a shot of the small, hard-to-see saw-whet owl. At only seven inches in height, one of the smallest owls in North America, few people even saw the well-camouflaged bird, let alone got a picture. Capturing a color photo, ideally with the bird in motion, had become Riley’s personal quest over the last three years.
A fresh round of cold rain quietly pattered the boughs above her, making the night’s approach come even quicker. Clouds had moved in rapidly with the wind since she left her house hours before, confirming the wicked weather forecast Riley heard on the radio earlier in the day. Even though it was officially spring, the southern Oregon Coast saw very little sunshine until May or even June. By then, the saw-whet owl would have found a mate and stopped calling into the night, making him impossible for Riley to home in on. Sitting in the rain was Riley’s only option. Still, as the wind started to pick up and rock the tops of the tall fir trees all around her, she couldn’t stay for long. The two-mile uphill trek home to her house on the cliffs overlooking the ocean would be challenging enough without worrying about slipping in the mud or being hit by falling branches.
Come on, little guy, Riley thought. A storm shouldn’t hold you up. Time to give that mating call another go. As if hearing her thoughts, the rapid, tell-tale sound of too-too-too rang through the deepening darkness. Riley’s eyes widened as adrenaline spiked in her body, the only sign she felt any excitement coursing through her. The bird sounded almost directly above her. Could I be that lucky?
With infinite slowness, Riley turned her head and raised her camera, trying to pinpoint the owl’s call. Even under the best of conditions, the picture would be a challenge. With the shutter of her camera wide open to accommodate for the low light, Riley would have to hold perfectly still to make sure the image didn’t blur. For some photographers, the act would be impossible, but after all her years of experience capturing animals in the wild, Riley had mastered stillness. Holding her breath, she let her eyes run up the tree trunk while holding the camera at nose level. The tiny nest would likely be in an old woodpecker hole somewhere near ten feet off the ground.
The owl let loose its shrill call again, and Riley saw the slightest flicker of movement. That moment was her chance. The one she had waited on for over a dozen different nights. Looking through the viewfinder, she used a light touch of zoom to find her prize, and then she saw the bird. The small, almost cat-like brown and white face filled with yellow eyes seemed to stare right at her. There you are, she thought, while a feeling of triumph filled her as she took the shot of the magnificent little bird of prey a moment before it spread its wings and flew away.
Even though it was well past midnight and Gabby had left hours before, Jennifer was still wide awake, pulling a variety of clothing haphazardly from the drawers of her old, but entirely functional bureau. Not at all sure what she would need for an extended stay in a rustic cabin in the forest near the beach in southern Oregon, she threw a mix of o
Besides, she was still mourning the loss of her job, and the alcohol helped ease the pain. She realized the Willamette Weekly news magazine wasn’t exactly the New York Times, but it still let her follow her dream. Since she was a kid, being a journalist was what she always wanted to grow up and do. While her schoolmates talked about being doctors, firefighters, and movie stars, Jennifer was most happy with a pen in her hand. She was sure she drove her parents and four siblings crazy, always wanting to write blogs about their different family events. As a freshman in high school, she joined the small school newspaper and quickly became their biggest contributor. Jennifer wasn’t happy unless her story was on the front page. College was another step in the right direction, and she majored in journalism while continuing to write articles about life on campus. Nothing was off limits. She thrived doing the research needed digging through old newspaper articles alone in the basement of the campus library. Phone calls, email exchanges, and extensive searches throughout the internet turned up nuggets that made it into her exposes. Not stopping there, she expanded her searches to Portland and dug into the lives of anyone who seemed interesting enough to have something to write about—local celebrities, athletes, and political figures. It was only logical that she had taken a job at Portland’s local magazine. Even though the pay was low, the last six years were everything she ever wanted.
But it all came crashing down, she thought. All over one series of articles she insisted be printed. Sometimes she wondered if writing the piece about organized crime in Portland was worth it, but then she would smile and know it was. Even if her bank account suffered and she was forced to eat oatmeal and ramen until she found something else, Jennifer wouldn’t have changed a word. Yet, here I am, getting ready to run away and lick my wounds… She frowned. Is that what I’m doing? The idea to go to the cabin was Gabby’s. Jennifer hadn’t asked about a place to stay, and in fact, it hadn’t even crossed her mind.
Suddenly, she worried her subconscious pushed her toward saying yes to the crazy idea of living in some remote cabin for who knew how long. Not that the isolation would bother her. She always struggled to interact with people face to face, always hiding behind the computer when she wrote about lives she could never possibly live. Her anxiety over talking to strangers would be too much. So, what am I afraid of if it’s not being alone? Jennifer knew the answer. Anything outside the familiar threatened to put her in a panic. Although her medication helped keep her balanced, a major change like going to the cabin could send her spinning. If it is too much, I’ll just turn around and come home.
Still, her stomach churned from all-too-familiar feelings of fear. Biting her lip, Jennifer pulled her giant roller suitcase from under her bed and set it on top of the covers. As she carelessly folded each item and tossed them inside, she forced herself to take ten deep breaths. It only partially worked. She glanced at the time on her phone, but it was too late to call Gabby and cancel the trip. She’s probably called her cousin and set everything up, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to have people go to any trouble on her behalf and then bail. With a sigh, she picked up her wine and finished the glass. I’m blowing this out of proportion. It’s supposed to be beautiful there. Maybe it will help me relax. She blew out a long breath. Everything will be fine.
2
The loud churn of the food processor filled Riley’s spacious kitchen as she watched the cooked turkey, carrots, and rice become a beige pate. When it looked suitably mixed, she shut off the machine and glanced toward the corner of the room. Sitting in his bed was a large black lab, his eyes alert, flicking from Riley to the food processor and back again. With a chuckle of amusement, Riley opened the machine’s glass bowl and used a rubber spatula to put the glop in the big stainless-steel dog dish on the counter. The movement provoked the slightest whimper of excitement from her pet, and another glance caught him licking his chops. With the dish in her hands, Riley turned to face her faithful companion.
“Are you ready for some dinner, Ansel?” she asked, and her dog all but nodded. Riley grinned, sniffing the mixture. “This food smells so good I should make a bowl for myself.” Other than raising his eyebrows at her words, the lab didn’t comment. “All right. I’ll stop tormenting you.” She set the bowl on the tile floor, but the dog still didn’t move. After rescuing him from a puppy mill the police uncovered in Coos Bay a few years ago, Riley had trained him since he was a six-week-old puppy to wait for commands before acting. He knew much more than simple things like sit and stay, and she trusted him more than any human. Riley met his deep brown and intelligent eyes, and the dog held her gaze but didn’t move until she spoke again. “Ansel, come.”
Although Riley knew the lab would prefer to race across the kitchen and scarf the food in one big bite, he trotted calmly, his nails clicking on the tiles, to where the food waited and sat before looking at her again. “Good boy,” Riley said, proud of her pet’s restraint. “Ansel, eat.” Finally, he was free to consume his dinner, and the healthy mixture was gone in four bites. He licked his mouth and looked at Riley again. She smiled. “Ansel, drink.” The dog moved to the corner of the room to his second dish and slurped water, splashing half onto the floor. Riley sighed. Ansel was one of the most well-trained dogs she had ever met, but some things couldn’t be corrected. Let’s face it, she thought. The guy’s a bit of a slob. Still, he’s the best roommate I’ve ever had. Smiling, she walked closer to scratch Ansel behind his floppy ears. “Was that tasty?” The dog’s thick black tail wagged in answer. “Glad to hear it. Ready for a quick walk?” The tail wagged faster, making Riley laugh. “Dumb question. Let’s go outside and check what’s going on.”
Together, they went to the house’s mud room off the kitchen, where Riley took a quick look out the window in the backdoor. Although the constant wind gusts all day had let up some, there was still a steady downpour of rain. As predicted, the storm had moved in early that morning and hammered away at the coast for hours. Wind and slashing rain had attacked her home on a cliff overlooking the gray and white churning ocean below, but Riley wasn’t worried. Built fifty years before with sturdy lumber from nearby forests, the house had stood the test of time. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t fit for a long walk along their usual trail through the woods or down the stairs to the beach. “This will be a quick one, buddy,” she told Ansel, who waited by the back door. “Don’t wander off.” She kicked off her slippers to put on black rubber boots before donning a red fleece-lined rain jacket. Another glance through the window didn’t show any improvement, but Ansel had to go out. Opening the door, wet wind gusted into the house, slapping her in the face. Ugh, she thought. I’m sure glad I don’t have to be out in this more than a few minutes. It’s not a day to be venturing far.
The trip along the rocky Oregon coastline took what felt like forever. Jennifer’s romantic notion of taking the picturesque Pacific Coast Highway had turned into something of a disaster. Not only did the winding two-lane road, with many hairpin curves and narrow shoulders overlooking slopes leading straight down to the ocean, slow her progress, but a torrential downpour made her come to a crawl in places trying to see the road. At one point, she used a pullout along the highway to see if the rain would slow, but after thirty minutes of waiting, the weather wasn’t much better. More than three-quarters of the way to her destination, she hated the idea of giving up and going back, so she struggled onward at a snail’s pace.
