by Edie Claire
He smelled something burning.
Crap! He jumped up, grabbed a pot holder, and tossed the smoking, blackened bag of popcorn into the sink. Grumbling at his sudden, disturbing inability to control his own brain, he threw another bag into the microwave and stood over it until it was done. Then he poured the popped corn into a bowl, sat back down, and picked up his phone. Two texts had just come in, both from women, both asking him what he was up to. Perfect, he told himself. There was still time to go out; he would answer one or the other and see if she was available. He’d gotten far too distracted with Laney. He hadn’t been with another woman for days now!
Yes. That was what he would do.
He threw back a fistful of popcorn and chewed it thoughtfully. He wondered if Laney liked the gourmet variety, and if she preferred white cheddar or caramel-coated. Then he pulled up his voice call app and clicked on the picture of a shaggy-bearded mountain man.
His older brother picked up immediately. “Jason, are you psychic, or what?” Thane’s booming voice called out merrily. “I was just about to call you! Wait…” His tone turned to dismay. “Mom didn’t get to you already, did she?”
“No, Mom didn’t get to me,” Jason assured, glad of it. He loved his mother, but if she didn’t give up on the “You’re old enough to start thinking about dating a nice girl” campaign she’d unveiled over Christmas, he was going to start sending her calls straight to voicemail. “What’s up?”
“Good news!” Thane proclaimed, his voice cheerful again. “Mei Lin is pregnant!”
Jason put down his popcorn. A sly grin spread across his face. “Seriously? Bro, that’s awesome!”
“Thanks,” Thane replied. “We’re pretty happy about it.”
Jason kept smiling. His sister-in-law was a sweetheart, and he loved that the two of them were so happy. Never mind that his bumbling brother had fallen into the perfect relationship ass-backward. Thane was a great guy, and he deserved his happiness. But… already? “Dude,” Jason teased, “how long have you been married? Like, five minutes?”
“Shut up,” Thane returned affectionately. “You’ll be an uncle by summer. Get used to it.”
An uncle. Jason liked that idea. He liked it a lot, actually. “Another generation of Buchanans taming the Alaskan wilderness! That is too cool. Has Dad bought him or her a pair of boots yet?”
“Well, somebody’s got to,” Thane remarked. “But there’s time, yet. So hey, why’d you call?”
Jason had almost forgotten. For some odd reason, he was picturing himself carrying the little bundle of joy in a backpack around the forests of Gustavus. A plausible scenario, except that the tow-headed tot he envisioned was an unlikely fantasy child for his dark-complexioned brother and raven-haired sister-in-law. He shook himself back to reality. “Yeah, I’ve got a question for you. I’m trying to find out more about a philanthropist named Gordon Tremblay. Word has it he was a part of getting the Forest Society going. You know anything about him?”
The Forest Society was a group of fishermen, scientists, and industry people who worked with the provincial government to protect salmon habitats, and although Thane lived in Alaska now, he used to work for the BC Fish and Wildlife department in Port Alberni. “I’ve heard of him,” Thane confirmed. “Never met the guy, but his name got thrown around a lot, both on the job and at the university. He was a big fisherman himself, very dedicated. He gave a lot of money to a lot of causes, but he ticked off some people in the forestry department because he set up an endowment for Earth, Ocean and Atmospheric instead.” He chuckled to himself. “That was decades ago, but those academic types can be cutthroat, and memories are long.”
Jason was aware. He’d heard his brother complain about ivory-tower politics the whole time Thane was working on his grad degree. “Why would Tremblay give to EOA when he was so invested in forest restoration?”
“I’m pretty sure he did make donations to Forestry, too,” Thane replied. “But the endowment was a special lump sum thing he set up as a memorial to his daughter. The story I heard was that she died in a weather-related accident, which motivated him to throw some serious cash at better early warning systems. Unfortunately for him — and what still ticks off Forestry — is that UBC isn’t really doing much with forecasting anymore. But the University of Victoria is, as you probably know, and they got their own endowment. Tremblay set them up at a half-dozen grad schools, not just UBC. You’ve got to admire the guy for trying to make a difference.”
Jason’s interest was piqued. A weather-related accident? His mind leapt immediately to Laney’s tornado, and he tried to remember what he’d read in her newspaper clippings. But he couldn’t make a connection. The only family members of Laney’s mentioned were her and her mother, both of whom had survived. Who exactly was Gordon’s daughter?
“You don’t remember the name of the daughter, do you?” Jason asked.
“Not hardly,” Thane replied. “You’re lucky I remember that much. Did I mention that I’m going to be a father?”
Jason laughed. “You did.” He thanked his brother for the info, sent congratulations and well wishes to his sister-in-law, and hung up with a smile on his face.
Thane and Mei Lin were having a baby. Wow. The whole family would be over the moon. His mother in particular had been hinting about grandchildren for years now, long before Thane had even met his wife. Jason thought his mother had given up on her younger son’s prospects, but Christmas seemed to have renewed her optimism. Which was unfortunate, since Jason had no plans to change anything about his perfectly satisfactory personal life.
Another blond head popped into his imagination, this one fully mature and unquestionably female.
He growled beneath his breath. Then he stuffed his mouth with another fistful of popcorn and got back to work.
Chapter 22
Laney sat alone on a recliner on the lodge deck the next morning, her head tilted backward. A storm was coming in, and she was enjoying the feel of the wind and the cool splash of mist on her face. She watched the swirl of clouds in the sky, attuned to their density and pattern of movement. Coastal storms weren’t like the inland beasts she knew, and that alone made them exciting. Between her rain jacket and the torn plastic poncho she’d rescued from the trash bin in the common room earlier, she was able to stay relatively dry. Not that she would care, if it weren’t for the cold. Splashing about in the rain on a warm spring day — much to her mother’s chagrin — had always been a favored pastime.
The smile slipped from Laney’s face as reality returned. My mother. Christi Miller would always be her mother. But was it wrong to continue to think of her as the only one? Was it wrong to hide the truth from Jessica Macdonald’s family?
Laney didn’t know.
She had been raised to believe in right or wrong. Trying to put wiggle room between the two, so the reasoning went, was faithless and cowardly. But what if right and wrong looked the same? What if no matter her course of action, a mix of good and bad would result? How could she weigh the relative merits of each option, deciding which was to the greater good, when she couldn’t predict either outcome?
Follow your conscience, Gran had always said confidently. But on the critical issue at hand, Laney’s conscience remained stubbornly silent. Honesty is the best policy, another platitude advised. But what about let sleeping dogs lie?
Her mind rocked with an image of Jason, curled up under a heavy brown comforter with one bare, muscular shoulder exposed. He was deeply asleep, his hair tousled, his long lashes quivering slightly as he dreamed. The mental picture filled her with warmth, until the camera panned over to the nude, artificially tanned, fake-bosomed bombshell lying next to him.
She huffed with annoyance and tried to refocus on the clouds. Jason was her friend. She shouldn’t care who he slept with. Since when did she care about her male friends’ sex lives? It was none of her business.
Deny, redirect, repeat. She’d been following the same mantra all night long. It hadn’t worked
. But she had yet to think of a better solution.
While Jason had spent last evening out on the town having a fabulous time, she’d spent hers alone with her laptop feeling aggravated. Getting back into her accounts with the newspaper archive and the address registries had taken forever, thanks to her absurd tendency to pretend she would remember such things and thus didn’t need to record them. Eventually, she had relocated the information she’d found before and forced herself to copy it all into a file. She’d even dug a little deeper into the Toronto paper and found a mention of Joan Tremblay in conjunction with a charity event. But she could find nothing useful anywhere regarding Carl or Elizabeth Macdonald. The usual online hits that marked school achievements and job history, allowing a public view into the life of any millennial or Gen Z, didn’t exist for their generation. The two had died before social media even became a thing.
She turned to the small table beside her and reached for the once-steaming mug of coffee that a friendly pair of surfers from Australia had insisted she try. She doubted that any coffee could completely eliminate the cobwebs from her restless night. But James and John had assured her that a “long black” was the cure for what ailed her, and as her insides warmed and her brain began to buzz, she saluted their cultural wisdom. The lodge had no espresso machine, but the Aussies had located a grinder and something called an AeroPress and apparently made do.
She would have to thank them effusively later. In the meantime, she would enjoy the storm. She lowered her gaze to watch the waves, reveling in the complex interplay of wind and water, sky and sea. There was little else she could do to further her mission until Jason reappeared. Most of the surfers at the lodge were still sleeping, and despite the steadily increasing waves, none were out on the water. Thanks to the fascinating discussion she and Jason had had yesterday, she now understood why. The height of the waves might be steadily rising, but both the wind and swell direction were unfavorable for surfing at Chesterman Beach. As the storm drew closer, conditions would only worsen.
Not for the first time, Laney wondered what riding on a surfboard would feel like. It must be amazing to experience the power and movement of a wave beneath one’s feet! Gambling the risk of a cold dunking against the reward of a thrilling ride would be an added bonus. She pictured herself standing tall next to Jason, the two of them shredding one gnarly wave in perfect harmony—
“So if you had nothing else to do,” an amused voice asked from behind her, “would you stay out here through the whole storm?”
Laney smiled at Jason as he walked up. “I’ve done it before. But in this case, I’d probably cry uncle when the wind blew away my poncho, seeing as how these are my only shoes.”
“Seriously?” Jason replied, his tone leaving no doubt what he thought of her decrepit sneakers. He was wearing waterproof boots himself, along with a rugged, waterproof jacket with the hood thrown back. Misty rain clung to his brown curls, flattening some and accentuating others. The look was unkempt, raw, and incredibly sexy.
Deny, redirect, repeat.
“Don’t diss the sneakers,” she replied. “They’ve been through a lot.”
He grinned at her and sat down. “Speaking of uncles, I found out last night I’m going to be one! My sister-in-law is pregnant, due next summer. How cool is that?”
“Very cool,” Laney replied with a smile. She liked the way Jason spoke so fondly of his brother. As a child she had pined for siblings. She still did. “You’ll make a great uncle.”
He smiled back at her, but too soon the glint of unfettered joy in his eyes morphed back into concerned sympathy. “Did you have any breakthroughs in your research last night?”
She sat up and turned toward him, adjusting the poncho as she moved. The wind wasn’t bad yet, but the rain was getting heavier. “Not really. I learned that Joan Tremblay was involved with the Children’s Aid Foundation in Toronto twenty years ago. The rest I knew already.” Her mouth formed the next words despite direct orders from her brain to stifle them. “So how was your date?”
He looked back at her with a blank expression. Had he actually flinched a little, or was that her imagination? “Fine,” he answered. Was he studying her as intently as she was studying him? She averted her eyes. None of her thoughts were safe for him to see.
“That’s good,” she replied. “If you want to see what I found, we can go back inside now.”
For a long moment, he made no comment. Then he lifted his hood onto his head and sat forward. “I did a little research on my own last night. And I found a couple things that should help us.”
Laney’s heart beat faster. Whatever he was about to say, she was afraid of it, and she hated herself for being afraid. She tried to say something nonchalant but wound up saying nothing.
He noticed her angst. For a moment he looked like he was going to press her about it, but he didn’t. Instead he told her of Gordon Tremblay’s history as an environmental philanthropist. She listened with conflicting emotions. Even as she approved of Gordon’s values, she found herself wishing the man had some secret vice. Something that would render him unsympathetic. Unworthy.
Jason’s next words felt like a sucker punch. “Gordon also set up large endowments at a half dozen universities as memorials to his daughter. She died in some sort of storm, and he earmarked his donations for research into better early warning systems. I don’t know her name or any details about what happened to her, but I asked Ben to see if he could find out more from UVic about their endowment. Once we know her name, we—”
Laney wasn’t looking at Jason anymore. Her focus had returned to the ocean, a churning tempest that mirrored her own insides. So. Gordon had been affected by his daughter’s death. He had responded to his grief and helplessness by taking concrete, practical action.
She could identify with that.
Gordon must be a good man. He must have loved Elizabeth. Would he not have loved Jessica, also?
“Laney,” Jason said gently. “I didn’t tell you this to make you sad. You’ve got me at a disadvantage. I’m missing something.”
“I know,” she heard herself say vaguely. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he shot back. “Just level with me. Please?”
Laney turned her gaze back to his face. To his kind, sensitive gray-green eyes. Sharing her secret with anyone was risky, but so was continuing this farce of a mission alone. She needed someone to talk to. Someone to help her gain a wider perspective, to make sure that, going forward, she wasn’t operating purely on emotion.
Besides which, Jason wasn’t stupid. If he continued to help her it would only be a matter of time before the nature of her connection to the Tremblays was obvious. She had neither the will nor the energy to continue concealing it.
The rain was coming down harder. Cool drips had started to run down her neck. She pulled up her own hood and adjusted the poncho more carefully over her legs and feet.
“Do you want to go in?” Jason asked.
“No,” she answered, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. Unsurprisingly, they were alone. “No one can overhear us out here. What I have to say could get me in a lot of trouble. Legally. Financially.” Her gaze held his. “I need to have your word it will go no further. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
His eyes were puzzled, and anxious. But his expression was resolute. “Of course.”
Laney believed him. It was another emotional choice on her part, but so be it. Sometimes the gut did know best. She took in a deep, embarrassingly ragged breath.
She started talking.
***
It was all Jason could do to keep his hands to himself as Laney sat, mere inches away, and started trembling again. The ‘officially friends” thing gave him cover to be affectionate, but a sixth sense told him that right now, she didn’t want coddling. She was obviously used to being independent, to feeling strong and capable. All she wanted was for him to shut up and listen.
“It started with the tornado that hi
t Peck when I was a toddler,” she began, her tone dry and her tempo quick. “Did you tell me you saw the articles I brought? I can’t… I’m a little fuzzy on what happened in the hospital.”
Jason nodded, feeling slightly guilty again. He suspected at the time that she wasn’t fully grasping his apology. “I was trying to find an emergency contact for you. I couldn’t help but read the articles. It was an amazing story.”
She nodded, her expression grim. “It was. I grew up surrounded by people who called me a ‘miracle baby.’ No one could believe I had really been lifted up inside a funnel cloud and set safely back down again, but they had to believe it because there was no other explanation.” She swallowed hard. “But that day wasn’t a miracle for everybody. Four people died.”
She went quiet. After a moment, Jason tried to help. “An elderly man and a family from out of town,” he supplied, remembering the articles.
Laney’s blue eyes turned to look at him, their clear depths wracked with pain. “The family who was killed was named Macdonald. Carl, Elizabeth, and Jessica Macdonald. Elizabeth was Gordon and Joan Tremblay’s daughter.”
Jason’s breath caught. So this was the connection: the daughter who died in a storm. But… hadn’t Laney said that the Tremblays were family? “So the article was wrong? About them merely passing through Peck on the highway?”
She shook her head, loosening drops of rain from the edge of her hood. “They didn’t know anyone in Peck. They were Canadians living temporarily in Nashville. The articles were right about that, but wrong about something else. The child they brought with them wasn’t a baby. She was sixteen months old. A toddler.”
Laney’s voice quavered. Jason inched closer to her, confused. “Why is that important?”
She drew back from him and stood. A gust of wind picked up her poncho, but she caught it in a hand and stuffed it partway inside her raincoat pocket. Then she stepped to the banister and cast her gaze out at the waves again. Jason moved to stand beside her. He said nothing else. He just waited. She took another deep breath.
