"Ah, but he and I have something in common there, too."
"Really? I'm waiting to be amazed." Ess gave him a challenging look.
"Well," Max paused to consider his words, "When Elizabeth's sister intended to elope with Wickham, it threatened to ruin the reputation of her entire family. So, Darcy did what he could to save Elizabeth from social disgrace. He put forth a lot of money and effort, and he suffered with the knowledge that he had to give financial help the very man he despised, the man who had already tried to damage Darcy's own sister, in order to cover up the indiscretion of Elizabeth's sister. He did it all for the woman who meant the world to him, not expecting anything in return. It wasn't until his Aunt tried unsuccessfully to get Elizabeth to promise never to marry Mr. Darcy, that he even realized he may still have a chance with her.
I know you still don't understand the necessity of bringing you out here, but I was thinking of nothing but your safety. Even if I give up my freedom in the end and go to jail, I'll risk it to keep a dangerous man from getting his hands on you."
The realization hit Ess hard. She understood. He was a little unorthodox, but in a way Max was her version of Mr. Darcy. He was less distinguished in his actions and his feelings were unsought, but he fought against his better judgment when he kidnapped her to hide her from some 'dangerous man'. Ess's story was playing out a little darker, and she couldn't imagine the outcome could be as happy, but she somehow felt less afraid of Max now that she thought of him in this respect.
Max saw the nearly indiscernible change in her eyes and he knew he finally broke through the ice. Ess however, wasn't ready to display her concession yet.
And so began a debate on obsessed characters in literature. Eventually, they moved the conversation to the couch by the fireplace (Ess still kept a physical distance, which Max respected), where they spent at least an hour discussing Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. Now that was a tale of demented obsession. Max fought hard against being compared to Heathcliff's tragic character, and won out in the end, much to his relief.
Angoli, Max thought with resentment, was a different story. His resemblance to Emily Bronte's dark Heathcliff character was too close for comfort. He wisely chose not to bring that up to Ess, though. No need to scare her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Roden was getting fed up. He had just left cabin number five, and what really bothered him about this one was that it actually looked like the place he had dropped Max off at and picked him up from years ago. He recognized the landmark when he saw it: two trees framed the cabin door with their branches intertwined over the threshold, and their roots slowly pried the cement step away from the cabin's entrance, as though nature was reclaiming it's grounds.
Apparently, Max chose not to inhabit the same cabin he stayed in last time. With this newly discovered knowledge, Roden lost most of what remained of his hope. What if Max had another plan? What if he was hiding Ess in the preserve away from all campsites? Max had to have explored the lay of the land when he was here the first time. He may have found several good hiding places, a den or a cave maybe.
Roden knew he had to keep going until he searched all the cabins. Even if his hope was quickly diminishing, he couldn't give up on the remote possibility that he could save Max from himself. He probably couldn't keep him from jail at this point, but he hoped to keep his friend's crimes to a minimum.
Turning these thoughts over in his head, Roden didn't realize that he began to doze off behind the wheel. The next thing he knew, Manda was shouting in his ear and grabbing his arm to shake him awake. He automatically hit the brake and turned the steering wheel. Unfortunately, he swerved in the wrong direction. The car had been moving slowly over the dirt path, and so when he hit the nearby tree, it was at less than ten miles an hour.
After his initial adrenaline stimulated shock, which lasted nearly fifteen seconds due to his state of fatigue, Roden caught his breath. His head began to pound as the oxygen flooded back to his brain. In desperate concern for his car, he jumped out of the driver side door. All the exhaustion he had felt less than a minute before was gone as he looked over the bumper of his BMW. In consequence of the low speed impact with the tree, there were no dents, but the bark left deep scratches in the rubber of the bumper. All in all, he was relieved that the damage had been so minimal.
During Roden's examination of the car, Manda got out of the passenger side door, with Martin crawling out behind her. When Roden finally pulled his eyes away from the bumper, he looked up to see her glaring at him, arms folded across her chest. Martin stood behind her with a look of anticipation on his face. He was waiting for the assured entertainment that Manda's next irate episode would bring.
Roden just rolled his eyes and braced himself for it, but her angry words didn't come. He looked at her more intently, and saw tears begin to well up in her eyes. "Manda?"
Finally, she opened her mouth. "So," her voice cracked as she tried to hide her emotions, "Is your precious car okay?"
That question caught Roden off guard. This was not the normal confrontation he was beginning to grow accustom to. Was she actually holding back? Roden cleared his throat and answered her in the affirmative.
"Oh, well, that's great." She replied. "I'm so glad things are working out for you." She wiped a tear away before it had a chance to escape from her eye, and returned her arms to their folded position.
Then, Roden finally realized what was wrong with her. "What about you? Are you alright?"
He could tell that Manda mentally stumbled over his question. The accident, though it turned out to be minor and left them all physically unscathed, obviously gave her a fright. Roden felt sure that it had to do with the fact that she was already distressed about her friend, and drained by the anxiety of the long night.
"I'm fine." Manda jutted her chin forward and rolled her eyes away from Roden's gaze in stubborn pride. Roden watched as that troubled pride slowly erased from her face, to be replaced by the slow discernment of something in the distance.
It registered to Roden that Manda saw something. He turned in the direction in which she was looking. Through the trees, on an alternate trail, was a stationary vehicle. It must have been parked there. From this distance he couldn't tell the make or model of it, but, since it was the first sign of any civilization they had seen here, he became very curious. The dwindling hope rekindled inside of him just a little bit.
Martin became aware of the vehicle, as well, and immediately skirted around the BMW and his companions to head towards it. Seconds later, Roden and Manda caught up to him. They rounded trees and stumbled over leaf-buried roots to get to the vehicle's destination. As they drew closer, Roden recognized the car. It was Max's old white Volkswagen Jetta. He positively identified it by the dent on the back door from when Max was sideswiped about three years ago by another car. The person at fault had fled away from the scene, leaving Max very angry. The young man couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't own up to his or her mistakes.
All three searched the area around the car to try to find evidence of Max or Ess. The doors were locked, so they peered inside, but the tinted windows made it difficult to see anything. Roden heard a thud coming from Martin's direction and looked up to see that the younger man had tried to break a window with his elbow. It didn't work. Martin rubbed at his apparently injured arm, and Roden alternated between exasperation and amusement. Served the man right for breaking into things so often.