“COME ON…COME ON,” BETH BUCKLEY SAID AS SHE glared at the numbers as the elevator slipped by each floor. She rocked back and forth as if that could make the elevator move faster. To relieve the tension that sprung in her neck, she hunched her shoulders and slowly rotated them.

“Finally!” She said sending a breath skyward that caused her fly away hair to rise and then settle against her moist skin. Tapping her foot, she waited as the elevator jockeyed for just the right position. She wrapped her arms about her shoulders trying to smooth away the goosebumps on her skin that had become unaccustomed to air conditioning. Looking down at her skimpy attire, she realized she should have thrown on a shirt over her tank top. It was too late. The elevator doors slid open and she realized she was now the object of the entire office’s scrutiny.

For a moment she considered pushing the ‘Down’ button and wiping out the image until Michael’s son Jonathan stepped forward, catching the door with one hand. She swallowed hard and stepped from the elevator. One by one the sounds of busy fingers upon even busier keyboards fell away. She searched the room for some explanation until Jonathan stepped between her and the others, using the bulk of his body to afford her some flimsy privacy.

She opened her mouth preparing a question.

Jonathan shook his head. “No, Beth. My dad wants to see you.”

“But I’m not dressed appropriately,” she said trying to sound believable.

“It’s too late for that Beth and you know it.”

Beth noticed Jonathan’s brown eyes were sad. “Let’s go,” he said.

She followed him down the corridor to Michael’s office. Jonathan opened the door and motioned her in, then she heard the door slip closed behind her and she was alone with Michael Donnelley, the Editor In chief of Backers magazine. She braced herself.

“Beth, I’ve called you in here today because I’m mad as hell about the crazy things you’ve been doing lately.” He slapped a copy of Backers on the desk.

He mentally compared the old Beth he had hired two years ago to the gaunt woman standing before him. Her hair, now streaked by the sun, hung limply about her shoulders to settle against her pencil thin neck. Her skin, in a natural attempt at browning from the hot Australian sun, had only managed to achieve a weakened sallow look. Her eyes were still brilliant emerald but dark circles had claimed her lower lids.

She was dressed in the outfit that had become more like a uniform in the past four weeks—tank top, old boots, and the same worn pants. Michael winced at her obvious discomfort as she tried to smooth the wrinkles from her khaki pants. The pants now hung precariously about her body and were held fast to her shrinking waist by a cord knotted at least two times. A touch of dust sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and was drawn across her cheek as she tried to brush her hair from her face. Michael’s heart softened. It didn’t make what he had to do any easier.

He rose to his full height and came at Beth.

“Jonathan tells me you’ve been grabbing every assignment that comes your way no matter how dangerous it is. You’ve been stomping around in the Outback, totally alone, putting yourself right in the middle of croc infested waters! You’ve been seen hanging around in God forsaken territory getting information from all sorts of sleazy characters,” he yelled. “Beth, all this makes for fantastic copy and our readers will surely enjoy the stuff you’ve been writing, but it’s damn foolish!”

Beth was surprised to feel wet hot tears on her face. She swiped at them with the back of her hand, not wanting Michael to see her cry. Oddly this was the first time she had cried since her mother’s death. Unfortunately, she thought, the place she had chosen to do it was Michael’s office on a damp drizzle-filled day. A perfect match for her mood.

She looked to him, the man who had hired her with no experience, newly divorced and on a strange new continent. Yet he had taken a chance and given her the job she’d always dreamed of, a real live reporter. It had been wonderful until things happened.

His disappointment saddened her but she wouldn’t turn away from Michael Donnelley. She respected him too much and if he was displeased then she would let him have his say. He was a man whose very presence exuded warmth. He was big boned, barrel chested, slightly balding, most times smiling, but not today. He had the bluest eyes but today they seemed to have lost some of their luster.

He continued on as if she were an unruly child. “You think I don’t know why you’re doing this? Look,” he said, “I’m sorry your mother died. I know how hard that is.”

Beth’s tears flowed unchecked. He reached for a tissue and handed it to her. “Sit down.”

Beth was silent, looking down, afraid to meet Michael’s eyes.

Michael watched her attempt to sop up the mess of her life with one tissue. Finally she raised her eyes to meet his.

His tone softened, “You didn’t die with her, Beth. You have a right to be here on this earth and to damn well enjoy yourself." He pulled another tissue free and gently wiped her tears away.

In response to his tenderness, the tiniest of sounds escaped. She was cracking and he knew now was the time to go for the hard facts.

He reached out to her and gently raised her emaciated arm up forcing her to look at it. Careful to keep the cadence of his voice steady and even he said, “You’re not going to be able to keep running much longer. No matter how hard and how fast you try to run, your body won’t let you keep going. Then what will you do?”

Her arm dropped limply to her lap. “I’m fine. There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“I think there is. Why the hell are you doing it?”

“I have to Michael. I’m not the same person I was when I came here. I’m stronger now.”

He looked at her slumped in the chair as if someone had tossed her there and she stayed just the way she landed. In truth, she was probably becoming too weak to do anything else. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

“You’re certainly doing your best to look tough. I mean you had us all fooled for a while. But the truth is, you’re killing yourself. Is that what you want?”

“Michael, my last connection to my old life died a month ago. My ex-husband remarried last year. There’s no one left who should feel obligated to care anymore.”

“Obligated! What about me? What if I can’t help but care because you’ve come to mean so much to me and my family? You’re scaring the hell out of us Beth!” His voice softened, “We all care, but it’s obvious that maybe you don’t. Or maybe you’re afraid to care anymore.” The words hung between them.

She looked down and fiddled with the crumpled tissue that quickly disintegrated. She turned away, her body shaking with her sobs.

“You know, Beth, it’s not a weakness to cry, it’s not a weakness to feel things deeply. As a matter of fact, I consider it a gift. A gift that you have always had.”

Her ragged breathing caught at the air causing his insides to tighten.

There is a way out, Beth. There are others who have been through what you’re going through now.”

She turned her eyes to his, the slightest bit of hope flashed in them for the tiniest moment.

“You may not know this but I’ve been where you are now. I tried to run away from something years ago but the harder I ran, the harder it hit me. It won’t go away until you stand up to it and find a way to cope. Face it Beth, there’s nowhere to go when you’re running from yourself.” He waited for her reaction. Nothing.

Michael stood. “Well, since you’re so determined to run, I’ve got just the place for you to do it. The only place big enough—the Outback. Cappie Stone…,” his voice trailed off as his mind drifted to another place, “do you remember him, Beth?”

She nodded.

“He can help you find the answers. He can stop you from running and more importantly he can give you the courage to look your problem square in the face. I’m going to be honest with you, it will either make or break you and it’s dangerous as hell, but it’s no worse than what you’ve been doing to yourself already. There’s a warrior within you, Beth. Cappie Stone can show you how to set her free.”