Читать книгу Past Lies - Bobby Hutchinson - Страница 11

Linda, I’m sorry I lost it when you told me about the baby. I was just shit scared, is all. Responsibility’s never been my strong suit. Still isn’t, or I wouldn’t be on this cruddy freighter heading for the land of the midnight sun. I wanted you to know that now that the baby’s here, I’m glad you didn’t go to that doc the way I wanted you to.

From letters written by Roy Nolan,

April, 1972

TEN MINUTES AFTER Ivy left, Caitlin sipped the last of her wine and got briskly to her feet. “The guests are washing up, so we’ll eat in half an hour.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to clean up a little too,” Alex said.

“Don’t bother with your tux tonight, lad.” Theo grinned at him. “We’re only semiformal around here.”

“Glad you warned me, I was thinking black tie.”

Theo laughed, but Tom didn’t. Of the people Alex had met so far in Alaska, Tom was the least friendly. He wondered if it was the man’s nature, or if Tom had taken a sudden dislike to him. Whatever it was, Alex wasn’t entirely comfortable around him.

He made his way out the door and along a winding path to his small cabin in the trees. Theo had told him he could stay out here or in the bunkhouses with the rest of the staff, and for Alex, there really was no choice.

Since his divorce, he’d come to cherish his privacy. Out here, he wouldn’t disturb anyone when he couldn’t sleep. Besides, he’d always dreamed of living in a cabin in the woods, and now he had the opportunity, at least for a while.

Not exactly roughing it, he mused as he opened the door and found the light switch. There was electricity and a small bathroom, but there was also a squat, fat woodstove in the corner. Alex had lit it earlier and stocked it with a good-sized log. He’d have to learn to regulate wood versus heat, because the air inside the cabin was now stifling. He left the door ajar and headed into the tiny bathroom to wash up.

Apart from the bathroom, the cabin had only one room, equipped with a rustic wooden table, two chairs and a set of bunks built into one wall. On the table, Alex had propped Annie’s photo against a glass jar filled with sugar.

In one corner, a counter covered in lino and shelves holding a few dishes and a coffeepot made up a primitive kitchen. Caitlin had given him warm quilts, pillows and flannel sheets to cover the bed’s blue striped mattress and thick white towels for the bathroom.

Alex showered quickly and pulled a dark sweatshirt, jeans, underwear and socks from his sports bag. He was glad he’d stopped at a Laundromat in Valdez the day before and washed his collection of dirty clothes.

As he dressed, he thought about Tom and Theo. They were both stalwart and intrinsically tough. The long, solitary drive north had demonstrated the effect environment had on people, an idea that had always intrigued him. It seemed to Alex there was a relaxed flexibility about those who lived in warmer climates. The more rugged the country became, the more it was reflected in the faces, the straightforward speech, the hardiness of its inhabitants.

Here, in the most challenging territory of all, the people he’d met were survivors, and it showed. There was an edge to them, a tough wariness. There was also an openness and sense of unity that he figured came from an awareness of the dangers of this land.

And there was often a decided risk factor in what they chose for their work—take Ivy Pierce. Being a helicopter pilot wasn’t the first career choice most attractive women made.

For some reason her image was vivid in his mind, the exact shape of her face, the strange, light eyes, the delicacy of her tall frame.

In spite of that air of delicacy, he suspected she was physically strong. Her handshake was firm, and the graceful, easy way she moved indicated that her slender body was well toned. Just like her uncle and her father, Ivy had survivor written all over her.

Survival.

He reached for a thin, plastic-wrapped bundle from the side pocket of his bag and slid out four tattered letters and a worn photograph, wallet-sized and yellowed with age.

The man and woman in the picture were obviously hippies, long-haired, both wearing flared pants, loose shirts. The man was tall and rangy, and his arm was around the woman’s shoulders. His face was shadowed by the wide-brimmed hat he wore, so Alex couldn’t make out his features. She was pregnant, round belly poking out under the gauzy top. One of her hands rested on her belly, fingers splayed. They were laughing, squinting into the sunlight, leaning back on an old Ford.

Alex touched the man’s narrow face with the tip of a finger.

You, Roy Nolan, were not a survivor. You certainly don’t look like one, either. But I don’t think you were a fool. So what brought you here? What were you looking for?

He’d read the letters many times over, but the answer was still elusive.

Whatever it was, Alex had come here to find it.

IVY KNOCKED at her cousin’s door and, without waiting for a response, opened it, hoping to find Sage alone.

“Hey, Sage? You home?”

“Up here, Ivy.” Sage’s voice floated down from the second floor. Ivy trotted up the wide staircase and reached the top just as Sage burst out of a doorway down the hall, long, dark curls bouncing as she grabbed Ivy in a hug. She was shorter than Ivy, maybe five-six, with a perfect oval face and a rounded, sexy body.

“I heard the copter earlier, I was hoping you’d come over.” She released Ivy and stepped back, holding both of her hands. “Another ten minutes and I’d have come looking for you, my friend.” Her deep-set eyes glowed with pleasure.

“I missed you. How was your trip?” Ivy noticed the dark shadows under her friend’s blue eyes, and the sadness there. “You okay, Sage?”

The nod she gave wasn’t reassuring. “The trip was the usual hoopla, meeting prospective clients, doing PR, schmoozing at dinner. Ben’s so much better at that than I am. It always feels phony to me.” Her rich contralto voice quavered a little as she added, “And now I’ve got my period. Again.”

“Damn. I’m really sorry, Sage.” Ivy knew her friend had been trying for some time to get pregnant.

“Yeah. Me, too.” She frowned. “Ben’s pushing me to go to Anchorage—there’s a new fertility clinic at the hospital there. But I keep hoping it’ll still happen the old-fashioned way.” She sounded frustrated and angry. “I keep reminding him we’ve only been married three years, but he insists I should’ve been pregnant twice by now, seeing how his first wife managed it before they were even married.” She pointed at the stairs. “C’mon, let’s go down and have a coffee, I just made a fresh pot. Ben’s still out with those Japanese fishermen, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.”

Ivy felt relieved that they’d have time to talk privately. “One quick coffee, I can’t stay long. Dylan’s taking me out for dinner.”

“Aha. So have things heated up between you two?”

“Nope. Try the opposite, at least for me. He’s hot, I’m not. I think I’m going to tell him tonight that he’s a wonderful guy, but the chemistry just isn’t right between us.”

Sage led the way to the well-equipped kitchen and retrieved two mugs. “You sure of that? Maybe it’ll be the sort of thing that grows over time.” She poured, added a dollop of cream and handed Ivy a mug.

Ivy dropped onto a high stool by the breakfast bar. “You actually believe that’s possible? That love would grow over time?”

Sage sat as well. Her wide eyes narrowed and, after a moment, she shook her head, making her thick dark curls bounce. “Not in my experience, that’s for certain. I met Ben and within three seconds I was a goner.”

“That’s never, ever happened to me.” She thought it over and amended, “Well, sexually, maybe, but emotionally, no.”

“Not even with Noah?” Sage knew all about the Alaska State Trooper Ivy had come close to marrying some years ago.

“No. I did love Noah, but I loved flying more.” She gave Sage a wry look. “I figure my wiring’s screwed up. I fall in love with planes instead of people.”

“Talk about safe sex.” Sage giggled.

“Talk about no sex, is more like it.”

“You and Dylan haven’t—?”

Ivy shook her head. “Nada. He’s pushing, that’s why I’m opting out.”

“Maybe you should give him a shot. Sometimes guys surprise you…that way.”

“I’m sure he’s good in the sack. He’s a doctor, he’s bound to know where things are and how they work. I’m just not interested. He doesn’t turn me on.”

“Well, from what I hear, this Tahoe Glen guy would be happy to take over. He practically salivates each time he looks at you, according to Mavis.”

“God, for someone who never comes out of the kitchen, that woman picks up on everything. Nope, no Glen, either. I’m taking a sabbatical.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m ordering a couple of new nighties and some hot underwear from Victoria’s Secret. Something to drive Ben wild during my fleeting fertile moments.”

“You don’t need nighties, Sage. You could turn guys on wearing a parka.”

“Only if there was nothing underneath.”

They laughed. Reluctantly, Ivy finished her coffee and got to her feet.

“Gotta go dump Dylan,” she groaned.

“Wait until after dinner,” Sage advised. “It’s easier to do on a full stomach, and you don’t want to get left with the bill if he walks out. But you don’t need my advice, you’re an expert at it.”

“Professional dumper. Remind me to put that on my résumé.” As she left, Ivy was pleased to see that Sage looked a little more cheerful.

IT WAS FUN TO JOKE with Sage about dumping guys, Ivy acknowledged on the flight back to Valdez. But it was beginning to concern her. She wasn’t that far off thirty. She wanted kids as much as Sage did, although without the growing desperation she sensed in her friend.

Why didn’t Ben just let up on the kid thing? He had twin daughters from a previous marriage, it wasn’t as if he had no heirs. But that was Ben, he’d get something in his head and run with it until everyone wanted to throttle him. Her charismatic cousin wasn’t easy to live with.

But she envied Sage the passionate relationship the two of them shared. What was it like to be a goner three minutes after meeting someone? For some reason Ivy thought of the man she’d met tonight, the guy with the Russian name.

Alex Ladrovik. Now wasn’t that straight out of a spy novel? But she couldn’t see him as James Bond, she decided, banking the copter for the landing at Up And Away. In spite of being a carpenter, he actually struck her more as the professor type, with his dark-rimmed glasses and that lean, intelligent face. Although he did have a kind of dark look to him, a touch mysterious. Sexy black eyes. Unruly hair, soft and golden-brown, tumbling over his forehead. Slow, deep voice, as if he thought carefully about what he was saying. And that strong jaw surely indicated a stubborn nature.

He might look like a prof, but his hands were those of a carpenter, tough and calloused, scarred and veined. No rings, she’d noticed when he hung on to her hand longer than he needed to. There’d been an awareness there, all right, certainly on his side. He’d given her the look.

And she’d found him interesting. But a goner? She blew out a long breath. No goner, Ladrovik, sorry about that.

Not by a long shot.