Читать книгу The Reluctant Bride - Anne Duquette Marie - Страница 11

Bright Angel Trailhead,

South Rim, Grand Canyon

The sun finally broke through the clouds as the four regrouped in the parking area outside the small airport that served the Grand Canyon.

“Are you positive you don’t want to take the helicopter?” Anita tried to hide her eagerness.

“I’ve been. You go,” Karinne replied. “This will be your first time, won’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. Thanks, I can’t wait.” Anita grinned.

“Guess Anita and I will meet you down below,” Cory said.

“You want my help loading the supplies?” Max asked.

“I can handle it. You two get your mules,” Cory said.

“Enjoy your flight,” Karinne told them.

“We’ll see you this evening,” Max added.

Karinne tilted back her head, shading her eyes as the prop wash of the helicopter blew over their heads. Anita and Cory’s journey would be far faster than hers, but she didn’t mind. She and Max stood apart from the crowd of tourists waiting for the trip down.

“You nonriders don’t need to worry,” the park’s head mule wrangler explained to the group standing outside the corral. “These mules could make the trip blindfolded. Just sit back for the ride and let them do their job. The drop-off side of the trail might seem close, but don’t let that scare you. We’ve never lost a mule or rider yet. Listen up as I call out your name and assign you a mount.”

Karinne listened, one hand holding the upper pipe bar of the corral, the other still shading her eyes as she stared across the majesty of the Grand Canyon. Nowhere else did reds, pinks, oranges, browns and royal purples blend into such a rich tapestry of bands. Within the canyon, towering spires of layered colors descended one mile down into the Colorado River. Even though she’d seen it before, memory couldn’t do justice to the reality of its grandeur. The huge size of the canyon, two hundred and seventeen miles long and from four to eighteen miles wide, provided a huge canvas for nature’s most famous colors. Most canyons were dark holes, with scattered green vegetation to break up the browns. Not this one—it was a brilliant rainbow that glistened from top to bottom and side to side.

Karinne listened as the park ranger went into more safety details; the mules took the same trail day after day, year after year, making them safe for nonriders and children.

“Does Cory still ride?” Karinne whispered. She and Cory had learned together one summer.

Max shook his head. “No. The day he got his driver’s license was the day he quit using a saddle.”

“That’s too bad,” Karinne said. “He was always good with animals.”

As an only child, Karinne had riding lessons, ballet lessons, singing lessons and had participated in scouting. Karinne’s lack of pitch made music lessons difficult, and she’d quit scouting when her best friend, Cory, couldn’t come camping with “the girls.” And although a graceful child, she’d found dance boring. However, the riding lessons for her and Cory had been a huge success, even though her present lifestyle—and extensive traveling—prevented her from indulging in a pastime she still enjoyed.

The head wrangler continued his talk as Max asked, “You’ve never ridden mules, have you?”

“No, but I guess the principle’s the same, isn’t it?”

“The gait’s a bit different. And since they’re sterile, they’re more docile.”

Karinne knew mules were the product of a male donkey and a female horse. Owners claimed mules were more intelligent than either donkeys or horses. Even the ancient Romans and Greeks had bred and valued them for transport, while Old Mexico preferred mules to horses for cavalry soldiers.

“Mules can see all four feet. Horses can’t. That’s why the early miners used them,” Max explained.

“I just thought the mules would be…larger. These seem…small.”

“Not that small,” Max contradicted, “but the park mules are deliberately bred from the smaller quarter-horse mares. Anything larger wouldn’t be able to handle the narrowness of the trail,” he said.

Just then, the second park ranger, a woman, asked, “Anyone here afraid of heights?”

Karinne and Max ignored the wranglers’ sharp appraisal of the crowd. She’d never been afraid of heights or horses. She doubted she’d be afraid on a mule.

“If you are, now’s the time to admit it. There’s no shame in being honest, people, and no place for rider panic attacks. There’s only one stopping point on the way down—the Tonto formation,” the male ranger said.

There was some murmuring in the crowd, but no one spoke up.

“We’ll be on the trail nonstop around four hours before lunch,” he went on, “and we’ll reach Phantom Ranch a couple hours later.” The ranger tipped back his hat and studied the cloudy sky for a moment. “You need to remember two things.”

“Drink lots of water,” Max mouthed to Karinne.

“One, keep hydrated. It may seem cool right now, but the deeper we descend, the higher the temperatures. There’s a twenty-degree difference between the rim and the bottom, even in winter. Use your hats, sunglasses, sunblock, and drink often. This is July, our hottest month. In clear weather it can be more than one hundred and twenty degrees Fahrenheit on the canyon floor.”

The other mule wrangler, an attractive woman with long braided hair, spoke next. “That creates another problem. Our mules don’t—can’t—stop. There are no bathroom facilities for a long time. In ten minutes we mount up. Last chance for you all to make a pit stop. Remember your mule assignment.”

“It’s single file for humans and mules,” the other ranger said. “Mules have the right of way over hikers.”

“The trail’s that narrow?” Karinne exclaimed.

“Yep.”

“Good thing they can see all four feet.”

More than a few in the group rushed off to the restrooms as Karinne turned to Max.

“Phantom Ranch—that’s the stables, right?”

“And the overnight lodgings for riders. We’ll meet Cory and Anita there, get our supplies and head downriver tomorrow.”

Karinne nodded. She shrugged out of her pack and left it with Max. “Watch this for me? Be back in a minute.”

Except it took a lot longer. Karinne ruefully wondered if she should’ve taken the helicopter, after all, when she saw the line for the ladies’ room. The men’s room line was no shorter.

Oh, well. Better safe than squirming in the saddle.

When they’d all returned to their mules, the wrangler had everyone mount. She explained that she’d take the point position, and the park ranger would follow in the rear. “Let the mules form their own line after I lead out,” she said. “They have their own particular order.”

A few minutes of turmoil went by as determined mules took their usual spots. Karinne and Max’s mules preferred the end of the trail, with Max’s mount positioned directly in front of Karinne’s. She adjusted her baseball cap and gave Max a thumbs-up when he turned in his seat to check on her. Then silence set in as the mules took awestruck riders down into the vast colors of the Grand Canyon.

For the first hour Karinne drank in the sights, grateful for the respite from screaming, yelling, drunken crowds that were her work setting day after day. She’d never heard such quiet on the job. And sounds, when she registered them, were soothing, natural. The clop of shod hoofs on packed ground was broken by the occasional screech of a hunting red-tailed hawk—a cry that carried and echoed through the pure air. No trucks or cars or buildings marred the openness—nothing except rock spires and wildlife. Best of all, from Karinne’s point of view, this place had Max.

And he’d once offered to give it up for her. How could she allow him to do that? If only she had the courage to quit her own job, but since she couldn’t leave her father, it made no sense to leave Phoenix or gainful employment.

After Max graduated from college, he’d discussed his future plans with her. They were a real couple by then, though Karinne was still in school, and Max had reluctantly offered to give up his hopes of a canyon raft concession and continue to do geological work with the city of Phoenix. He’d been hired on, but wasn’t happy.

Karinne refused his offer. “No, Max. I’ll join you up north when I graduate. I’m sure I can find work in Flagstaff.”

After her graduation, they’d been reunited in a Grand Canyon topside hotel. For one happy week the two shared their love, planned their lives together, and Max proposed.

“I wanted to wait until you graduated before making it official,” he said, slipping a diamond ring on her finger.

“We’ll set a date as soon as I find a job,” she promised.

But that promise was derailed when, with Jeff’s help, a headhunter tracked her down at the hotel to offer her a media photographer’s dream job. She could have refused—would have if Max had objected—but he was silent. So, with hesitation, she accepted.

“I’ve just finished with classes, and this is a chance of a lifetime,” she explained, feeling a little guilty. “I’d like to get some experience for my résumé. Then I’ll move up here and we’ll get married. It’ll only be for a short time.”

“As long as it’s short,” Max replied. In her excitement, Karinne missed hearing the strangeness in his tone.

“It will be. Oh, Dad will be so proud!”

“And so will I,” Max said, never reproaching her. Still, the “short time” had turned into months, then years. Her career was so challenging, and then Jeff’s heart problems had worsened. There was no sense quitting if she had to stay in Phoenix with her father. Plus she knew Max loved her. He would always be there, and after all, they were still young.

There was another reason Karinne stalled, a secret reason. If Karinne were honest with herself, she was hoping for Margot to reappear. After all, there had never been a body. If she and Jeff moved, how could Margot trace them?

It was wishful thinking, she knew. Foolish, wishful thinking. But all the same, Karinne stayed at home and Max paid the price. He was getting tired of waiting for the family they’d once planned. Karinne would have to harden her heart and do what her father’s doctors recommended. That wouldn’t be easy. Because selling the family home meant giving up her last hope of finding her mother.

Still… Karinne sighed deeply, a sigh tinged with pleasure that carried clearly in the pristine air. For now, she could shove aside the tedium of constant noise, and even the mystery of a pink sweatshirt and a note signed “Mom.”

Max swiveled around in his saddle immediately.

“You okay?” he asked.

Karinne smiled. “Just enjoying the trip.”

Max nodded and turned forward again. For the first time since the ride started, the canyon took a backseat in Karinne’s vision. Max had an air of caring about him that didn’t detract from his masculinity one bit. In fact, she’d always found it one of his most attractive traits. The male athletes she spent her life with were trained to ignore blood and pain, to focus on winning, winning, winning. As the backbone of a multibillion-dollar industry, they were paid exorbitant salaries to do so. No one expected otherwise.

A single sigh would never have signaled such concern from an athlete on the job. Photographers had to suffer the same weather and conditions as the athletes. Even Jeff, her father, had taught her to look after herself, to “be tough” after her mother’s death.

With adult hindsight, Karinne often wished she could take back all the “Mom, stop fussing!” complaints she’d made. The “boring” lessons had been signs of a mother’s love. Other than for Max, only her mother would have responded so quickly to Karinne’s sigh. Strange how one man’s action could strike her so deeply.

In certain ways, Max reminded Karinne of the nineteenth-century explorer, John Wesley Powell, whose life she’d studied in American history courses. His studies of the Grand Canyon were not only his life’s work, but Powell’s personal joy. Powell lived for his expeditions to the Grand Canyon, Green Canyon and the Rocky Mountains.

Karinne studied Max. Of course there were differences, as well. Powell had fought as an army major in the Civil War, losing an arm, which had ended his military career. The Civil War and primitive field medicine had taken its toll on many men, including Powell. The old black-and-white photographs of him hadn’t been kind. They showed a determined, too-thin war survivor. He’d refused to give up his passion for exploration and study, even though his expeditions had taken place in a hostile land.

Max Hunter was a successful native of this wild land. Unlike Powell, Max was healthy without the haggard look of early explorers. He moved with an easy masculine grace that Karinne found a pleasant change from the hurly-burly powerhouses on the sports teams. He didn’t need weights or vitamins to stay in shape. His skin didn’t sport “lucky” tattoos, and his brown hair wasn’t streaked, dyed, spiked or shaved in current men’s trends. Nor did he have facial piercings and diamond-studded earrings.

Max was her perfect match, except for one thing—geographic compatibility. Togetherness would be hard. The Grand Canyon was one of the most photographed areas in the world, but she couldn’t make money there. Nor could she leave her father, not with his heart problem. But lots of people had successful long-distance marriages, including Cory and Anita. Karinne and Max were in love, both committed to making things work, so she’d been happily content…until lately.

Could my mother still be alive? Even the attractive sights and shapes of the canyon around her—including Max Hunter—couldn’t distract her. However, she’d try to stay calm. After all, she thought, I’m on vacation….

FIVE LONG HOURS of riding in intermittent drizzle brought the mules to the Tonto formation. By then, all riders—from first-timers to the more experienced—were ready to dismount and stretch their muscles. The park ranger and wranglers made certain the mules were properly tied to the hitching posts, warned against littering, then checked out the tack while most riders headed for the Porta Potties. Soon after, lunches and drinks were distributed. Karinne and Max both ate their sandwiches standing.

“We’re two-thirds of the way there,” he said as he noticed Karinne rubbing her shapely behind. “Sore?”

“Not too bad.” She dropped her hand and reached into her box lunch for more chips, then fed him one before eating some herself. “Airport lounges and plane seats are worse. At least the sun’s out.”

Max nodded. “Looks like it might rain again. The air has that feel.”

“You’ll have to keep me warm tonight,” Karinne said, passion sparking in her eyes. “Maybe we can zip our sleeping bags together….”

“I think that can be arranged. I’ve missed you. I’m tired of missing you.”

“We’ve been together our whole lives,” Karinne gently reminded him.

“I’m not talking about living on the same street. I’m talking about being husband and wife. We were childhood friends, and we’ve done the lovers routine. It’s time to take that step forward, become marriage partners.”

“I never considered being your lover as routine.”

“Isn’t that what’s it’s become, Karinne? You meet me, or I meet you, we catch up on conversation and sex, and separate until the next time.”

“That sounds so clinical,” she said, uneasy at the tone of his voice.

“You know what I mean,” Max said impatiently. “And the worst part is, marriage isn’t going to change much. We’ll still be stuck in the same rut, unless one of us wants to become unemployed.”

“That’s the problem with the girl next door. She doesn’t always stay there.”

Max made no comment. After an uneasy pause, Karinne spoke. “I hope the rain lets up tomorrow. I want to do some hiking.”

“Where?”

“Oh, just some of the areas where Powell’s expedition took photos. Too bad so many of those pictures didn’t survive.”

“Some of them did. You should be able to pick up a book in the gift store later.” To Karinne’s relief, Max sounded like his normal self again. “I’ve seen them there.”

“I planned on it. I especially want to see C. C. Spaulding’s work,” Karinne said.

“Sorry—I’m not familiar with the name.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s a mystery man. All that’s known of him are his photos. Anyway, Spaulding took a photo in 1906 of an unidentified skeleton. His caption reads ‘The Toll.’ Supposedly Spaulding found him a few miles below this trail. The person—a white male—had a newspaper dated 1900.”

“I know photographers have been shooting the canyon since the 1870s,” Max said.

“Yes, but this photo is special. Compositionally, it’s a piece of art—and it’s an Old West mystery. No one’s ever discovered who the man was.”

“Are you going to try?”

“No. I have my own mystery to solve.” Karinne shook her head, then lifted her chin. No time like the present. “Max…the other day, I got a package in the mail. There was a Grand Canyon sweatshirt—pink—inside.”

“Pink, huh? That was your favorite color when you were small,” he remembered. “You don’t wear it much now.”

“So you didn’t send it?” she asked, not surprised, thinking of the note inside the package. Even so, she wanted Max’s opinion on the subject.

“No. You have a secret admirer I don’t know about?”

“Hardly.” There’d never been anyone for Karinne but Max. As a child, she’d adored the older brother of Cory, her playmate. As a teen, she’d had a crush on the man. As a woman, she loved him and gloried in the knowledge that he loved her back.

“Maybe Cory sent it,” Max suggested.

“I doubt it.”

Max peered at her. He could always read her moods. “What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I just wondered who it was really from.”

“Wasn’t there a card?”

“Yes, but there was no name.”

Max frowned. Karinne hesitated to ruin his good mood. This was their first reunion in months. “I’ll show it to you later, okay? When I unpack. Right now I’d rather talk about Spaulding.”

“Ah.” Max seemed satisfied, and Karinne breathed a sigh of relief. She changed the subject to something safer.

“I read about C. C. Spaulding in Dellenbaugh’s book, A Canyon Voyage. In 1871, when Frederick Dellenbaugh was seventeen, he joined Powell’s second canyon expedition. He painted the area.”

“Oil paintings, right?”

“Yeah. There was no color film, of course, just black-and-white,” Karinne said, warming to her subject. “Oil landscapes were the accepted travel fliers of the day. He traveled all over the world to paint.”

“I’ve seen the book, but I haven’t read it,” Max said.

“Some editions of his book are illustrated with black-and-white photographs from that same period. Powell had a knack for picking the best men for his expeditions. Perhaps we can retrace some of their footsteps together.”

“That’s a lot of footsteps.” Max smiled. He opened his mouth as she fed him another potato chip.

“I didn’t mean today. We’ll have the rest of our lives to do that.”

“I want more time with you than the fits and spurts we get now.” Max took her hand and pulled her close for a hug. “I haven’t said anything to him yet, but I’d like to make Cory a full partner. Maybe we can hire more workers in a few summers, too. It’ll give you and me more time together.”

“I’d like that, Max.”

“With just the two of us, we can’t really take extended breaks. But if we can afford more help, Cory and I could both take more time off. If we can swing it financially, I intend to make it happen,” Max said.

Further discussion was curtailed as the park ranger blew his whistle, the prearranged signal for everyone to finish eating and remount.

As the mule train started down the canyon a few minutes later, Karinne found herself smiling. She hated being apart from Max so much.

And she hated being in the dark about the mysterious pink top. Max hadn’t sent it. She’d known it all along but wanted to ask, just in case. And she knew he would never have played a trick like that on her. Besides, Max was alert to all her preferences, and pink wasn’t a color she wore much. Like Max, she doubted Cory had bought the top, but she’d ask him tonight at dinner. She didn’t want to address any other possibilities until then. For now, she was on vacation and would continue to enjoy it. It didn’t matter that a little rain was falling.

THE MULES CONTINUED down to the bottom of the canyon, crossed the suspension bridge across the Colorado and headed for their corral at the Bright Angel Campground. Sunlight faded quickly in the bottoms, although the mile-deep rock sides usually held the day’s heat long after the sunlight left. The floor of the Grand Canyon remained a desert environment, even with the monsoon rains far above.

Max turned in his saddle every so often to check on Karinne. She’d seemed a little stressed, but she had an open, welcoming manner about her, so much so that he’d revealed future business plans that he hadn’t even discussed with his brother yet. Nor did he feel the need to say, “Please don’t tell Cory I want to make him a partner.” He knew Karinne possessed sense and tact. She hadn’t succeeded in a high-paying, competitive job solely on her father’s coattails.

Her knowledge of the area and obvious delight with it impressed him more than he’d let on. As a canyon regular, he was used to the usual moans and groans of tourists. “It’s too hot, too cold, too wet” were among the complaints canyon workers had to hear. But like other weekends she’d spent here, Karinne hadn’t complained about the men’s and women’s dorms, where sexes were separated, or the lack of modern restrooms, the cloudy weather, the hard saddles, the no-frills lunch or the normal bodily functions of mules on a trail. Other tourists wrinkled their noses and groaned, finding “outdoor reality” a bit overwhelming. Instead, Karinne accepted the behavior of the mules much as she accepted the behavior of people—with a healthy tolerance that spoke of maturity.

She hadn’t had any choice but to grow up after her mother’s death. Mr. C had spent more time at home and, when school was out, brought her along on the job and taught her what he knew. A wildlife-photographer father who traveled frequently must have provided a strange upbringing for an only child. With just her widowed father and elderly grandmother, her experience of family was pretty limited.

Max thought uneasily about the last day he’d seen Margot Cavanaugh—and told her he didn’t know where her daughter was.

Karinne wasn’t the morbid type; she’d accepted her mother’s disappearance as the years passed. Max resisted the urge to turn around and check on her once more. A protective, totally male attitude washed over him, and Max gave in to the impulse and glanced at Karinne. Her head tipped back, she took in the brilliant colors directly above her, most of the canyon walls now looming over them. A satisfied smile curved her lips—and his at the sight. He almost felt as if he was on vacation himself. Max looked forward to her first expedition down into the Grand Canyon with more than his usual enthusiasm. They should’ve made this trip a lot sooner.

The mule train crossed the bridge over the Colorado, the river’s surface catching and reflecting the riot of color rising before them. Upriver, the Glen Canyon Dam had slowed much of the river’s speed; during heavy rainfall when the dam spill gates were opened, the Colorado was never as untamed as in Powell’s days. Max didn’t ride the river for cheap white-water thrills. The beauty of the canyon, the wildlife, the old pueblos and cliff dwellings, thousands of archeological sites and the simple pleasure of silently floating down the calmer side tributaries of the river made a far deeper impression than white water could ever provide.

As the mules finished crossing the bridge and headed toward the waiting corrals, Max took one last glance at Karinne to remind himself how lucky he was….

And how glad that there were no phones, no cell service. He didn’t have to worry about crank calls here.

MAX AND KARINNE MET up with Cory and Anita in the dining area at Phantom Ranch. Thanks to the brothers’ familiarity with the place, the four of them easily secured seats and dinner trays from the buffet.

“How was your chopper ride, Anita?” Karinne immediately asked.

“I loved it! I took some great photos. Nothing like yours, of course.” She grinned, patting the pocket where she kept her camera. “But enough to wow my friends at work when I go back to visit.”

Karinne gave Anita a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit.”

“Make ’em all jealous,” Cory said between mouthfuls of roasted chicken.

“I love it here,” Anita said.

“You both could stay longer,” Cory offered, surprising them all. “We have the provisions.”

“I can stay as long as I want. I’m ready to look for work here,” Anita said happily as she kissed Cory on the cheek. “I’m free as a bird, except for Karinne and Max’s wedding. Hard to believe it’s only a few months away.”

“I know,” Karinne said, seated next to Max. She leaned her head on his shoulder for a second. “I’m the bride, remember?”

Anita scanned the crowd. “Good thing we got a table.”

“I’ve seen worse.” Max buttered his corn on the cob. “Summer holidays are always horrendous.”

“Especially the Fourth of July weekend,” Cory agreed. “Now that’s a mob.”

“No,” Karinne said. “For terrible crowds, try Super Bowl Sunday. I remember one game when I couldn’t hear out of my headphones, and I had them on full blast. I’ve had it with noise and chaos. That’s why I wanted a small, quiet wedding. As long as everyone we’ve invited shows up, we’ll be happy.”

“I’ll be there,” Anita said.

Soon afterward, their plates cleared, Anita rose to go to her room.

“I’ll walk you there,” Max volunteered.

Cory and Karinne stayed behind to finish their coffee.

“Want dessert?” Cory asked.

“No, thanks. I’m full.”

“Same here. Wanna go?”

“Just a second. I’ve got a quick question,” she said. “Did you send me a Grand Canyon sweatshirt last week?”

“A sweatshirt?”

“In the mail—a hooded pink one.”

“Not me.”

“I wish I knew who did,” Karinne muttered. “It’s been bugging me.”

“Was there a note?” Cory asked.

“Y-yes.”

“And?”

Karinne hesitated, then decided to tell him. She and Cory were close, and Max had unexpectedly left with Anita.

“It was signed ‘Mom.’”

“Dammit!” Cory swore. “That’s not funny, Karinne.”

“No, it isn’t. It all started when I took this photo of someone who looked like my mother.” She went on to explain, Cory’s eyes serious as he listened to her story.

“And you went to the police when the sweatshirt came in the mail?”

“I did after I took the picture.” Karinne shrugged. “Max doesn’t know.”

“You’d better tell him,” Cory said.

“I plan on it. But he’s already upset enough. He’s worried that we won’t be able to spend any more time together when we’re married than we do now.”

“I can believe it,” Cory said. “What do you expect? It takes both me and Max to run the expeditions. I’m in the same boat with Anita when she’s working.”

“Yes, but this was the first time he didn’t act excited about the wedding. He wasn’t…himself. I didn’t want to say anything about Mom to him.”

“Does Anita know about this? The note? The sweatshirt?”

Karinne shook her head. “No. She has enough to worry about, losing her job and all.”

“I don’t think she’s that upset about losing her job anymore. And if she is, I’ll make it up to her,” Cory said with a sexy smirk. “Long-distance marriages are for the birds. I don’t know how military wives or husbands stand it.”

“They don’t have a choice. Like me.”

“You’re wrong. You do have a choice, Karinne. You just refuse to see it.”

Karinne shifted uneasily in her seat and decided not to comment on Cory’s observation. She steered the conversation back to the earlier topic.

“You don’t believe my mother’s alive, do you?” she asked.

“No way.”

“Dad didn’t, either. But I have a feeling—”

“Wishful thinking.”

“We’ve always been straight with each other, Cory. If you were me, what would you do?”

“I wouldn’t take any chances with a deranged stalker,” he said.

“Why would anyone stalk me? I’m no celebrity.”

“Still, you shouldn’t set yourself up as target for some creepy con artist.”

“I don’t intend to…but I thought I’d wear the top,” Karinne blurted out.

Cory ran his hand through his hair. “But we just agreed that your mother’s dead.”

“Yes…” Karinne took in a deep breath. “If by some miracle she isn’t…wearing it would be a signal, wouldn’t it? Like a green light saying I’m approachable.”

“Skip the green lights for anyone but Max,” Cory said. “Forget about this woman—and go back to flower arrangements for the wedding. Guest lists. Whatever.”

“I still have to tell Max.”

Cory swore. Karinne stared at him in frank amazement. “Sorry.” Cory piled his tray with the empty dishes and glasses. “It’s just that the same thing’s been happening to Max.”

“What?”

“He’s been getting crank calls from someone who claims to be your mother.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” At Cory’s raised eyebrows, she winced. “I know—I’m guilty of the same thing.” She frowned. “Did he go to the police?”

“Yes, but he learned nothing. You two need to talk.”

Karinne nodded. “This trip’s off to a great start.”

“Tell him,” Cory ordered, throwing down his napkin and rising. “Now’s as good a time as any.” He gestured toward Max, who was returning to their table. “See you later.”

Karinne sipped her coffee as Max rejoined her. “I showed Anita where the women’s dorms are, where you and she will be staying tonight.”

“Dorms…” Karinne groaned with dismay. “Too bad they don’t have a real hotel down here. Or someplace we could share a sleeping bag.”

“That’s the story of our life, isn’t it? Never together.”

Karinne shivered. “Don’t say never.”

Max pointed at her coffee. “Are you ready to go?”

“Not yet.” She set down her mug. “I wanted to talk to you about a photo I took a few months ago. There was this woman…” She told Max everything that had happened back at the stadium and her visit to the police station.

“I even told Dad about it, but he didn’t buy it.”

A long pause seemed to fill the air. The other diners faded into the background. Max’s expression seemed so serious Karinne shivered.

“I may have heard from that woman, too,” he finally said.

“Cory told me,” Karinne whispered. “And she claimed to be my mother?”

“Yes.”

A million questions jumped into her mind. She asked the easiest one. “When was this?”

“Almost two months ago. After we put our engagement announcement in the paper. A woman called. Said she was Margot and wanted to wish us well.”

Karinne shivered again, despite the hot coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because the Flagstaff police and park rangers thought it was a crank call. So did I.”

“That’s what the Phoenix police told me. But obviously this goes beyond that. You should’ve said something,” she insisted.

“And you, too.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgment. “You don’t think…my mother could be alive, do you?”

“No.”

“I wish the woman had called me instead of you,” Karinne said. “I would’ve recognized the voice if it really was Mom.”

“I’m glad she didn’t. I’d hate to think she had your phone number. Or worse, your address,” Max said. “This person does have my address,” Karinne admitted miserably. “She sent me a Grand Canyon sweatshirt—and a note.”

“Someone actually sent you a package? When?”

“Last week. This woman wants to see me.”

Max’s eyes darkened with concern. “Go on.”

“I threw the whole package out. But then I fished it out of the trash and brought the top with me. I thought maybe…I should wear it.”

“Why?”

“As…a signal, in case Mom is alive. To let her know I’m approachable.”

“Don’t encourage this craziness! That’s the last thing you want!”

“That’s what Cory said.”

“You’ve talked to Cory about this, and not me?” he asked angrily.

Karinne flushed. “Just a few minutes ago. And don’t lecture me, Max. You told Cory about your incident with this strange woman. Cory, not me.”

“Point taken.” He sighed. “In future, we have to be more forthright with each other.”

“Then I’ll say it right out. I want to follow this and see where it leads.”

“What’s next? A stalker crashing the wedding?”

Karinne shook her head. “I don’t think this woman wants to hurt me. She’s respected my privacy so far.”