Читать книгу Another Man's Children - Christine Flynn - Страница 8

Zach knew that Sam didn’t usually pick up Jason from preschool. At three o’clock in the afternoon, he was usually either on a flight or tackling his end of running the business. Since business was slower in the winter when they didn’t have the summer tourists and adventurers to transport, Sam taking off early to get his son hadn’t been a problem. Not for Zach. But as he watched his partner climb from his red Suburban and acknowledge him with the lethargic lift of his hand, he couldn’t help thinking that everything his friend did now must in some way remind him of the person who was no longer around.

As much as he hated to give Sam’s sister credit for anything just then, he had to admit that she was right. Tina had been everything to Sam. She had driven him nuts with her forgetfulness at times and she’d never been crazy about living in “a nature preserve,” as she’d called Harbor, but they had cared enough about each other to overlook whatever differences they’d had.

The fact that Tina had been willing to put up with Zach dragging her husband off for fishing trips and hanging around for her meat loaf and to play with the kids had made Zach think she was pretty special himself. He’d had the feeling he was special to her, too, in a decidedly brother-sister sort of way. He wasn’t the sort of man who expressed his feelings well with words. Never had been. Never would be. But he was pretty sure she’d known he would have done anything in the world for her and the brawny pilot who’d just opened the back passenger door of his vehicle and ducked his head inside. Jason was back there, strapped in his car seat and no doubt as impatient as he always was to get out now that the vehicle had stopped.

By the time Zach reached the open door himself, the man in the heavy blue parka was backing up with the three-year-old perched high in his arms to keep the kid’s feet out of the mud. A miniature camouflage backpack dangled by a strap from one big fist. In the other, he had a handful of crayon drawings.

Giving his son a little bounce to adjust his weight, Sam glanced toward Zach. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to work on your plane.”

“I’m looking for the manifest file.” Reaching forward, Zach shoved the door closed for him, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the cold winter air. The sharp report was immediately followed by the crunch of gravel beneath their feet as they headed for the shelter of the porch. “I need the one for the flight to Orcas this afternoon. The shipment of pottery T. J. Walker is shipping to the gallery,” he prompted, eyeing the little boy who’d twisted sideways to see him. “Chuck’s ready to take off, but you’ve got it.”

From beneath the lopsided hood of his red parka, the impish Jason gave Zach a smile. The blond little boy with the deep dimple in his cheek held up his hand, palm out.

Zach smiled back. The kid had the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Next to the boy’s little sister, anyway. And maybe their aunt.

“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, mentally frowning at his last thought as he greeted the child with their usual high-five.

“Hey, buddy,” Jason echoed, grinning.

The crunch of gravel gave way to the heavy thud of their boots on steps and porch planks. Beneath the ledge of his dark eyebrows, Sam’s normally keen eyes narrowed in confusion as he halted by the door and wiped his feet. “Why would I have it?”

A two-day growth of beard shadowed Sam’s rough-hewn features. His short dark hair looked as if it had been combed by the wind and there was a faintly pink quality to the whites of his eyes that could have passed for the effect of a bad cold or a three-day binge—except Zach knew his friend only indulged in an occasional beer, and that the dull, listless look had been there for days.

Zach figured it was probably from lack of rest.

Or from tears.

The thought made him shift uncomfortably as he jerked his glance to Jason. “I don’t know why you’d have it,” he replied, giving the kid a playful punch in the shoulder. Now wasn’t the time to tell Sam he probably had the document because his thoughts had been a million miles away when he’d picked it up. That particular conversation couldn’t be rushed. “I saw you put it in the day’s flight file when we were sorting freight this morning. Chuck saw you take a file from the counter just before you left an hour ago,” he expanded, speaking of the other pilot in their hire. “Since that’s the only one missing, logic says that’s the one you left with.”

The confusion remained. “All I took were the invoices I’d told you I’d total.”

“They’re still there.”

Sam opened his mouth as if to say that wasn’t possible. Apparently realizing it was, he turned to the door. With Jason wriggling to get down, he let the boy slide to his feet and pushed it open.

Preoccupied as he was, he nearly knocked over the lady Zach had nearly flattened on his way out a while ago.

Lauren had just reached to open the door when it opened on its own. Taking a quick step back so she wouldn’t get run over, she sidestepped her brother as he walked in.

“Sorry,” he muttered, oblivious to the fact that there was a woman in a turquoise serape on the other side of the tall panel of pine. Concentration creased his rugged, ragged features as he strode past, saying nothing else as he headed for the kitchen.

Jason walked right past her, too, his chin tucked down as he tugged on the zipper of his jacket.

“Is everything all right?” she called after her sibling.

“He’s getting the manifest.”

At the sound of the deep voice in the doorway, Lauren’s heart gave an unhealthy jerk. She’d suspected Zach would be right behind Sam. The thought alone had given her pause. But there was something about the husky sound of his voice and the unblinking way he watched her as he stepped over the threshold that tensed every nerve in her body.

Since she had no intention of letting him know that, she deliberately shifted her focus to the woman emerging from behind the door.

The apology in her expression moved into her voice. “Are you all right?”

The woman, who’d asked to be called Doe, gave her a forgiving smile. “No harm,” she replied softly, tugging the strap of her fringed bag over her shoulder. Hair the texture of fine wire shifted as she glanced from the dark and disturbing man blocking her exit to the child who’d stopped in the middle of the spacious room. Jason was still working at his zipper. “It’s busy around here, isn’t it?”

“Here it is,” Sam called, retrieving the file from the top of the refrigerator. “Hi,” he said to their visitor, looking slightly puzzled by her presence when he spotted her from the kitchen door.

Doe appeared as sympathetic as she did uncertain as she offered him a smile he barely noticed. “I guess I’ll be on my way,” she said to Lauren. “Remember to call Maddy O’Toole at the Road’s End Café. If you get word out there that you’re looking for a sitter, you shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding someone. Especially if it’s only for a couple months or so.”

“Thanks,” Lauren murmured, meaning it. “And thanks for your time. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Though Doe Adams’s smile was as gentle as she herself seemed to be, Lauren didn’t think the woman who greeted every sunrise in the lotus position looked all that disappointed as she scooted past Zach. If anything, she looked relieved to be escaping the room. Doe was certainly nice enough. Interesting, too, in a decidedly eccentric sort of way. But from the moment she’d walked in, Lauren had had the feeling that she wasn’t quite what her brother was looking for. When the woman’s first question about the children had been about their birth signs, she was pretty much convinced of it.

With their visitor heading down the steps, Zach moved back into the doorway and took the file Sam handed him. The men were the same height and easily met eye to eye, but her brother was stockier than Zach, more powerfully built. Zach was rangier, leaner. More…predatory.

The word powerful described him, too.

Like a panther.

“She looked familiar,” Sam said to Lauren as she shivered against the damp chill of the air.

“She said you flew her to the mainland last year. Apparently that was the only time since 1973 that she’s been off the island.”

“Sounds like a lot of people around here,” he murmured. “Is she going to watch the kids?”

Lauren shook her head, less concerned with the apparent idiosyncrasies of the people who’d chosen to live on Harbor than she was with the finely tuned tension snaking between her and the man edging toward the stairs himself. “She only cooks vegetarian and won’t work in a house that has animal hides on the furniture.”

She glanced toward the leather sofa and armchairs and gave a philosophical shrug. Everyone was entitled to their causes. She would have mentioned that, too, except she didn’t want to hold him up from letting Zach go now that the man had what he’d come for.

Zach obviously wasn’t interested in being held up, either.

“Listen, Sam.” He pulled open his vest, tucking his precious file between the waterproof fabric and his shirt. “I need to talk to you this afternoon. It’s important.”

There wasn’t a trace of curiosity in her brother’s obliging, “Sure. Come back when you’re through. I need to talk to you about switching flights tomorrow, anyway. I want to take the first mail run.”

“I mean at the office,” Zach replied, completely ignoring what Sam wanted to do. “It’s business.”

“We can’t talk business here?”

“Humor me. Okay?”

Looking as if it really didn’t matter to him one way or the other, Sam shrugged. “If that’s what you want,” he murmured. “What time are you leaving?”

“I’ll wait until you get there.”

Sam gave a mechanical nod. An instant later, having pointedly avoided meeting her eyes, Zach bounded down the steps to his truck and her brother finally closed the door on the cold.

Wearily running his fingers through his hair, he turned to where Lauren knelt to pick up the jacket Jason had left in the middle of the wine-colored rug. Jason himself was at the television set, opening the long drawer under it that housed videotapes. His denim-covered behind rested on the heels of little hiking boots that looked like miniature versions of his dad’s and he appeared, for the moment, totally preoccupied.

So did his father.

Lauren had thought a few moments ago that Sam looked a little ragged. Studying him more closely in the light of the bright brass lamps, she decided that he simply looked worn out.

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” she asked, because food was the only real comfort she could think to offer. “Mom said she left a couple of casseroles in there.”

“She did. Lasagnas, I think. But you don’t have to worry about me. It’s the kids I need help with.” He blew a breath, forced a smile. “I really appreciate you coming, Sis.”

She knew he did. He’d practically broken her ribs when he’d wrapped her in his greeting hug. Yet, when she’d hugged him back, just as fiercely, he’d immediately eased up and let her go. She’d just wanted to hold him and absorb whatever she could of his pain. But he wasn’t the kind of man who could handle sympathy. Rather than make things worse for him by offering it, she would simply offer her support.

That meant doing whatever she could to keep anyone from making his life any harder than it needed to be. And that meant dealing with Zach McKendrick.

She knew exactly what he wanted to talk to Sam about. She knew why he didn’t want to talk to him at the house, too. He didn’t want her around to point out what a louse he was. He’d said he had his reasons for grounding her brother. But she didn’t care what those reasons were. She simply couldn’t bear the thought of him telling her brother he couldn’t do the only thing that provided any real escape for him right now.

“Sam,” she began, intent on ignoring the sudden sick sensation in her stomach. “I know your partner asked to see you, but I need to run an errand before you go. Just a quick one,” she assured him, darting a glance down the hall. “Jenny’s still asleep, so I guess everything should be okay here for a while.”

Jason spun around and scrambled to his feet. “Can we watch Rugrats?” Holding up the video he’d selected, he marched past his aunt and handed it to his dad. “It’s a new one.”

Weighing questions from sister and son, Sam sank into the deep cushions of his favorite chair. Catching his little boy under the arms of his sweatshirt, he hauled him into his lap. “Sure,” he said to him. “Do you want to put it in or do you want me to?”

“You do it.”

“Why don’t I do it?” Lauren smiled as she reached for the brightly colored box. “I’m already up.”

Jason didn’t look too certain about relinquishing his prize. He didn’t really know her. Not the way he knew the grandmother who’d left yesterday and certainly not the way he knew his dad. Lauren knew the child’s only real memories of her would have been of three days last Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa’s house and the two days she’d been in Tacoma two weeks ago. He’d had no problem at all crawling into her lap for a story or sharing his cookies with her at Christmas. But, during the awful time over New Year’s he’d wanted only his dad and the woman who’d left just yesterday.

“Let Aunt Lauren help, Jase. She’s going to be here for a while taking care of you and your sister while I’m at work. Okay?”

Beneath the fringe of honey-colored hair, the child’s big eyes looked uncertain. The coaxing helped, though. After another moment of hesitation, he handed over the video he’d chosen, then laid his head on his dad’s big solid chest.

Had she not been in such a hurry, Lauren would have worried about how Jason would react to being left in her care. With him safe in Sam’s arms, her only thought as she slipped the tape into the VCR and got the thing running was that she might not need to be alone with the children at all if she couldn’t convince Zach to change his mind.

There was a certain irony in that thought. Especially when she considered how much more comfortable with the kids she would be if Sam were around during the day. Yet, as she shrugged on her long black raincoat without bothering to change into more suitable clothes, and fished her keys from her shoulder bag, she dismissed the thought completely. This wasn’t about what she was comfortable with. If it were, she wouldn’t be leaving the house.

“Don’t be gone long okay?” her brother asked, his eyes, like his son’s, glued to the cartoon characters on the large screen. “I need to see what Zach wants.”

It was a fair indication of how detached Sam was that he didn’t ask where she was going. She’d only arrived ten minutes before he’d left for the preschool. Given that she’d passed the majority of places to shop when she’d driven off the ferry, it was doubtful she needed anything from a store. He knew she didn’t know a soul in the area, either. But she was grateful he didn’t ask. She could evade, but she’d never been able to outright lie.

“I’ll hurry,” she promised, keys jangling. He looked as numb as he’d told her he felt. “It won’t take you long to get to your office, anyway. Will it?”

“Ten minutes. It’s only five miles to the airstrip.”

Lauren wasn’t exactly sure where she was going. She had only been to Harbor once before. That had been three years ago with her now-ex-husband and that time as this, she’d taken the ferry. They’d been there for two days over a summer festival weekend and she never had made it to her brother’s office.

Driving along the narrow, desolate road now, she rather wished she had asked Sam for a tour of his base of operations. She knew his office was at the airport. She just wasn’t exactly sure where the airport was. When a person drove off the ferry, the town was right there. All fourteen blocks of it, including the boardwalk which lead to an aquarium with a huge mural of a killer whale painted on the side. The sign at the end of the pier read, Welcome to Harbor, Pop. 1,200.

Just beyond that greeting a twelve-foot-high post sprouted signs that pointed in eight different directions and included the mileage to the North End, where thousands of hikers and campers headed in the summer, and Hidden Sound, where she understood the kayakers hung out. It also indicated the directions of Seattle, New York and Tibet, useful information to someone she was sure, but there was no indication of where one might find the airport.

The only road she’d ever taken from town was the main one which curved around part of the big, sprawling island. Since she couldn’t recall seeing a sign for where she wanted to go along that narrow, tree-lined route, and given that she’d already driven five miles, she stopped at the only sign of life she encountered—a tiny mom-and-pop grocery store with a sign in the window advertising espresso and live bait.

Two minutes later she was backtracking a mile to take the shortcut to the shore road. The short cut, she’d been told, was marked by a white stake nailed with two pie tins that served as reflectors.

She’d noticed several roads disappearing back into the woods. She’d also noticed that the island’s citizenry wasn’t big on naming them. Tina had once told her that many of the people who lived on Harbor didn’t much care whether people could find where they lived. Their friends already knew. No one else needed the information.

Lauren had thought at the time that her sister-in-law had made the local residents sound like hermits. At the very least, the resident artists, entrepreneurs, kiwi farmers and seventies dropouts marched to their own drummers. Her brother was hardly a recluse, but he definitely possessed an entrepreneurial spirit. He was also a quiet man who tended to keep to himself and his family when he wasn’t working. Given that he’d always loved the outdoors, she could understand how he’d so easily adapted to this remote and wild place.

She had no problem seeing how Zach fit in there, either.

The man struck her as the classic lone wolf.

The ocean suddenly appeared a hundred yards in front of her, a vast expanse of gray against a paler gray sky. Refusing to dwell on the knot Zach put in her stomach, she followed the curve that made the road parallel the seaweed-strewn boulders and forced her focus back to the reason she was in the middle of nowhere hurrying to see a man who made her think in terms of feral beasts.

She almost missed the turn for the airport. The white sign with the black silhouette of an airplane was about the size of a briefcase, and weather had eroded most of it. There were no markers beyond that. They weren’t necessary. With nothing but the ocean on one side and an open field bordered by trees on the other, it was easy enough to see her destination.

A single landing strip slashed through the low-growing weeds and grasses. A pole with a wind sock dancing lightly in the sea breeze stood off to one side.

She’d wondered how she’d find the office when she got there. She needn’t have worried. There was only one building on the site. She’d heard her brother mention that the landing strip was public, but the building clearly belonged to him and his partner. The arched white airplane hangar proclaimed E&M Air Carriers in yard-high blue letters on its curved roof. Huge doors were open on one end, exposing a small white plane inside. The only other door was toward the opposite end and had a sign over it, which read Office.

Leaving her car beside the two trucks parked in front of it, she whipped her hood over her head, hurried to the door and stepped inside.

She was pulling her hood down and shaking off the rain when she turned and saw Zach look toward her.

He stood at the side of the counter that bisected the rather cramped little room. A large aerial map covered the wall beside him. Behind the tall counter, which was covered with another map, a gray metal desk overflowed with papers, coffee mugs and what looked to be fishing-fly-tying equipment. The scent of something that smelled like motor oil drifted through the narrow door leading to the hangar, mingling with the smell of fresh coffee from the coffeemaker on the filing cabinet.

Zach slowly straightened.

He didn’t have to say a word for her to know he wasn’t at all happy to see her. She also had the feeling from the way his mouth thinned that he knew exactly why she was there.

“Is there any possibility you can change your mind about grounding my brother?”

Her voice was polite, her tone reasonable and designed to invite discussion.

His was decidedly not.

“No.”

“That’s it?”

“As far as I’m concerned it is.”

The man looked as solid as a granite pillar standing there, and just about as flexible. His expression was closed, his tone flat with finality. Coupled with the challenge darkening his eyes, his manner had her digging deep for the tact that had so totally failed her earlier.

“I was under the impression,” she said, truly trying for civility, “that you and Sam are equal partners in the company. Isn’t that true?”

A faint frown flashed through his eyes. “We have equal ownership.”

“Then you both have equal say in its operation?”

“Technically.”

“Then, technically,” she repeated, thinking the man would rather choke than give more than he had to, “what gives you the right to tell him what to do?”

Zach didn’t say a thing. He didn’t even move. He just stood studying her carefully guarded expression and wondering at how out of place she looked in the utilitarian surroundings. On all of Harbor Island for that matter.

She had city written all over her and, while he had nothing in particular against metropolitan women, he had a particular burr on his tailwing for any woman who presumed to know him after three minutes of conversation.

Overlooking the fact that what they’d had hardly qualified as a civilized discussion, he pushed aside the flight schedule he was adjusting and walked into the waiting area with its scuffed linoleum floor and green plastic chairs. Planting himself four feet in front of her, he jammed his hands on the hips of his worn jeans and narrowed his eyes on her upturned face.

“I have the right,” he assured her, not bothering to elaborate. As long as she was there, there was something he wanted to know. And he wanted to know it before she said anything else that would make him wish his partner had been an only child. “Do you honestly think I’m more concerned about myself and this business than I am about Sam?”

It was as obvious as the chips of silver in his storm-gray eyes that her accusation had been eating at him ever since he’d left her brother’s house. The fact that it bothered him that much would have given her pause, too, had he not just taken a deliberate step closer.

Lifting her glance from his very solid-looking chest, Lauren felt certain that most sensible people would be looking for a little distance right about now. The female part of her, the part that remembered the heat in his touch, told her that was exactly what she should be doing, too.

“What am I supposed to think?” she returned, ignoring sensibility for the sake of her brother. “You know his circumstances, and you still want to take away one of the only things that’s keeping him going. You’re right,” she conceded, without backing down, “I don’t really know you. But I know you’re a pilot and I’d think that would give you at least some appreciation of what it will mean to Sam to lose his only means of escape right now.”

Something dark flashed in his eyes, something dark and haunted and repressed so quickly that only a fine tension remained.

His voice grew deliberately, deceptively quiet.

“I know exactly what flying can mean to a man. And I know what it can mean to face the prospect of not being able to do it. I also know that Sam is as aware as I am of the FAA regulation that prohibits a pilot from flying when he’s physically or mentally impaired. And right now,” he said tightly, “Sam isn’t a competent pilot.”

“He’s under—”

“He’s under stress,” he snapped, cutting off her protest. “I know that. And that stress is dangerous because it’s interfering with his concentration. The last thing I want is for him to wrap himself around a tree because his thoughts weren’t on his pre-flight check and he missed something critical. Or because his mind started to drift and he found himself in a situation he couldn’t correct in time. Or, God forbid,” he grated, “he had passengers with him when something preventable happened and he took them down with him.

“Yes, it is business.” His voice was hard, his expression harder still as he pounced on her earlier accusation. “If he kills someone, we lose everything we’ve built here. But I’d rather do that than have him jeopardize himself. I’ve already lost one friend. I damn well don’t want to lose another.”

He hated what she was doing, resented the way she was forcing him to acknowledge the fear he felt for his friend.

He hated the very word. There had been a time when he’d nearly believed that fear didn’t even exist for him. He’d learned how to deny it, to bury it under exhilaration and the adrenaline rush of the close call, the near miss. But that had been back when his training had made him believe that admitting to fear robbed a man of his edge, and once he lost his edge he was no longer invincible. Back when utter confidence had often been all that had kept him alive.

He knew fear now, though.

He knew that loss could happen in the blink of an eye.

And he knew that something about the woman so warily watching him now taunted the ruthless control he’d always maintained over himself.

Annoyed with that, too, he lowered his voice as he forced himself to back off, but the tightness remained. “Does that answer your question?”

Lauren had gone utterly still. In the space of seconds, the imposing, quietly irritated man looming in front of her had ripped away the protective anger that had braced her—and seriously shaken her entire perception of him. There was no denying that he was overbearing, arrogant and bolder than any man she knew, but he wasn’t heartless.

He wasn’t even close.

He was just as worried about Sam as she was. Only he’d had more reason to be concerned because he’d known of circumstances she hadn’t even been aware of.

He’d also lost a friend in Tina himself. And she hadn’t even considered that.

Trying to regroup, all she managed was a faint, “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Look. I’m—”

“Do you want to help your brother?”

“Of course I do. But I’m sor—”

“How long are you staying?”

She was trying to apologize, to let him know she regretted her assumptions. Those assumptions might not have been there had he been a little less impossible, but she wouldn’t shirk her part of the blame.

With his glance narrowed on her face, it was clear he wasn’t interested in making amends. He was, however, confusing her.

“How long am I staying?”

“Here. On Harbor.”

There was a measuring look in his eyes, something she didn’t trust at all. The muscle in his jaw was jumping.

“I can only take about a week off.”

He considered her for another nerve-wracking moment. “That’s better than nothing.”

“For what?”

“Your brother needs to get away,” he told her, expressing no interest at all in what she could only take a week off from. “He said he’d give anything to get away from all the memories of Tina for a while. But there’s no one to stay with the kids. If you really want to help, tell him you’ll watch them for him so he can go over to my cabin. It’s over on Gainey,” he said, speaking of one of the other seven hundred islands in the area. “I’ll fly him there myself.”

The discomfort she felt suddenly shifted course. “Why would he need to go to another island?”

“Because it’s isolated there.”

“This place isn’t?” Incredulous, even more confused, she swept her hand toward the door. “His house is the only one on that inlet. The only house for miles,” she felt compelled to point out, since the location was now taking on an entirely new significance. “I’d think that would be about as remote as it gets.”

“Trust me.” His tone went as flat as the map on the wall. “There’s a difference between being a few miles from town and being in a place you can’t leave.”

“But being isolated couldn’t possibly be good for him right now. He needs his friends. He needs family.”

“Why?”

Why? she echoed, but only to herself. As tempting as it was, she wouldn’t fall for the challenge carved in his face. He’d just proved he wasn’t anywhere near as insensitive as he’d first seemed. She did, however, have major philosophical problems with his perceptions of her brother’s needs.

“Because he needs people around him,” she replied, not sure why he couldn’t see it himself. “To help keep him occupied. To help him deal with his grief. Being alone would be so much worse.”

“Or maybe,” Zach suggested, doing a commendable imitation of her patently patient tone, “it would be easier. Maybe what your brother needs is the opportunity not to be stoic for all those other people and to deal with whatever he’s feeling head-on.”

“He doesn’t need to be stoic around me.”

“Of course he does. You’re his little sister.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

The look he gave her held amazing tolerance. “A man doesn’t want to show weakness around a female member of his family. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to show it in front of another male. The life Sam had is gone and he needs to come to grips with that before he can move past it. The only way that can happen for some people is to leave them alone so they can deal with whatever they’re feeling without worrying about how it’s affecting everyone else. That includes you. Your parents. Me. Everyone.”

There was something about the way he included himself in that list that caught her attention. It was almost as if he were making a conscious effort to keep from adding to her brother’s concerns. But that thought was lost in the face of his absolute certainty. It was heavy in his voice, mirrored in his eyes.

Conviction like that wasn’t born of assumption. The only place something that deeply felt could come from was personal experience.

“Everyone has to deal with what they’re handed in their own way,” he muttered, suddenly looking uncomfortable with the way she was watching him. “The choice isn’t yours or mine, anyway. It’s Sam’s. And whether he chooses to stay or go, he’s not flying for a while.”

He sounded as if he expected her to disagree. Given that they hadn’t agreed on anything either had said so far, the expectation was reasonable. But she wouldn’t debate his decision about Sam flying. Zach had made his point. She just wasn’t at all convinced that what her brother needed right now was solitude.

“Does he know he isn’t a competent pilot?”

“I doubt it.”

“Is he going to argue with you about it?”

“I imagine he will. He’s been taking extra flights so he can be away from here. He’s not going to like the idea of being stuck where he doesn’t want to be.”

The faint buzz of fluorescent lights underscored the soft whir of a space heater in the far corner. Over those quiet sounds came the sharp, electronic ring of the telephone and the thud of Zach’s boots on the scarred linoleum floor when, without a word, he moved to the counter to answer it.

The deep, authoritative tones of his voice carried toward her as her glance skimmed his profile and the wide scar covering the side of his strong neck.

She’d told him she didn’t know him. And she didn’t. The things she knew about him were that he was divorced and that he was no longer in the military. If she had to guess, she would put him near her brother’s age. Thirty-seven or so. Only eight years older than she was herself. But those things were superficial. It was what he’d said about how some people needed solitude to deal with whatever it was they had to confront, and how they needed space so they didn’t have to be stoic for everyone else, that hinted at what might have shaped him.

He had spoken with the voice of experience. And though she could only wonder at what that experience had been, she had the uneasy feeling that he had suffered himself, and that he’d done it alone.

“I have to go.” Zach made the flat announcement as he dropped the receiver back in its cradle. Taking the note he’d just written, he moved to the map on the wall. After using a ruler and string to calibrate the distance between two points, he scribbled the result on his note. “Tell Sam I have to go to Vancouver for a pickup, so I can’t talk to him now. I’ll stop by the house about eight. You have until then to convince him to leave the kids with you. If you can do that, I won’t have to talk to him about being grounded.”