by J C Paulson
“What’s her name?”
“Lawan. It means ‘beautiful.’ As she is. Should I give her an English name, do you think?” she asked anxiously.
“Lots of time to think about that, Hopey,” Grace said. “We can talk about it and decide on the right thing to do. Don’t worry; the main thing is to get the adoption done, right?”
“Yes, you’re right, Grace. I do think of her as Lawan.” Hope swallowed. “Okay. Time for cake!”
Thirty candles created a fair amount of heat atop the chocolate cake, decadently stuffed with mousse and iced with espresso butter cream. Grace laughed at the small fire and blew it out in one breath.
“There,” she said. “No boyfriends, Adam. As you know.” Grace gave him a slightly mischievous, slightly sympathetic smile.
Adam looked a trifle abashed. “I know, love.”
After the cake was consumed and the dishes were either washed or stowed in the dishwasher, the Ramplings moved into the family room, ready for more wine and conversation.
“I can’t wait to have a niece, Hopey,” Grace said quietly to her sister. “Anything I can do to help, please let me know. I mean it. Please. I want to be involved.”
Adam overheard, and his knees went weak. He kept a close eye on Wallace, and when the older man took a break to visit the bathroom, Adam rose, muttering that he needed a glass of water.
When Grace’s father emerged and came through the kitchen, Adam swallowed hard, turned and said, “May I speak with you privately for just a moment, sir? It’s about the cabin.”
*****
“Grace.”
“Yes, Adam.”
“It hasn’t snowed yet.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed. And?”
“Well, I was thinking. The last time — the last two times — we were at the lake were not exactly relaxing. It’s been . . . God, Grace. It’s been insane, hasn’t it? And I won’t be able to take more than four or five days off for a while. There’s so much more to do on the case, especially on Cey’s homeless shelter. I feel a bit strange asking you this, since it’s your cabin and not mine, but what do you think about heading up for a few days? Forecast is for above seasonal.”
“We’d have to close up the cabin again,” Grace said, with heavy emphasis on the final word.
“I know. I’m getting good at it. No problem, as far as I’m concerned.”
“It’s a lovely thought. Are you thinking Thanksgiving? Or next weekend?”
“As soon as possible, if you can get the time off. Again.”
“Well, considering the last two trips ultimately produced hundreds of inches of newspaper copy, I think Claire will be okay with it. I’ll check on Monday. And I could maybe visit Elijah. It would be wonderful, assuming nothing else happens.”
“Fan-hitting shit does follow you around. It follows me around, too, but I’m a cop. I’m used to it.”
“I’m a reporter. I’m used to it, too. Although I’ll admit this year has been a little much.”
“Let’s see,” Adam said, preparing to tick off the events of the last several months. “You found the dead bishop. Then all hell followed, and someone decided to bash you on the head. Then you were on the scene when they found Sherry Hilliard, murdered in her basement. And all hell followed. This time, you couldn’t just stay in bed; you had to go flying across the lake to find your friend. And more hell followed.”
“And you solved all those cases.”
“With your help.”
“You would have, anyway.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Silly man,” Grace said, throwing herself at him and covering his face with kisses. “Beautiful man,” she whispered.
*****
The next Friday, Adam and Grace followed their lake trip routine. Buy the food and wine. Load the truck. Drive hell-bent for the lake, Adam behind the wheel. Open the cabin, now minus its burned outbuilding. Turn on the power. Bring in the luggage. Head for the water’s edge, drinks in hand.
“Water’s down, a bit,” Grace said, frowning.
“Just a bit, Grace. Autumn rains are coming.”
“I wonder who’s up? I don’t think the Allbrights have returned. They’d be dealing with Tom, maybe finding him a lawyer, I would think. I must call Tillie when we get back.”
They were silent for a moment, staring over the water, remembering the fire, the death of Elias, the flames that nearly burned down the cabin, and may have injured or killed them, as well.
“Adam,” Grace finally said. “Why did you want to come back up here? It can’t have great memories for you.”
“Oh, but it does,” Adam said, a smile in his eyes. “I remember a long, peaceful canoe ride. I remember delicious dinners and drinks on the deck. And I recall love in the afternoon, and love in the lake. And I know you love it here. So, I do too.”
“Adam,” Grace breathed, then kissed him.
They had not made love regularly for some time, as Adam healed both physically and, to some extent, mentally.
“I want . . . can we . . . Adam?”
“Yes. Maybe not in the lake, though. It is October.”
They barely made it back to the cottage before passion inflamed them. Grace carefully removed Adam’s shirt, taking her time with the shoulder, before uncarefully attacking his chest and stomach with her lips, teeth and tongue.
“I want you,” she said huskily, unbuckling his belt. “I want to kiss you, bite you, lick you everywhere.”
Hearing that, Adam was rendered speechless and caught his breath as her lips travelled lower. He could only stand a minute of it, knowing then how much he, too, had missed their loving. Drawing her up gently to her feet, he lifted her, as he loved to do, and bore her to the bedroom.
Adam madly pulled off Grace’s shirt and jeans, kissing her everywhere he could reach, and they fell together on the bed, bodies writhing against each other, skin to skin, lips to lips, feeling every soft hollow and hard muscle.
A moment later, Grace, aroused to the point of no return, bucked and cried out from the simple friction of body against body. Amazed, Adam rode the wave, then entered her in a long, slow, careful thrust.
“Is it all right, Grace?” he panted, worried that her spasms were too strong for his entry. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said. “No. Yes. God, it’s unbearable . . . don’t stop, Adam.”
But Adam did stop, just holding Grace as he paused, inside.
“Show me, tell me when,” he said.
And she did, a moment later, her hips rising and falling in the rhythm of fresh arousal, then increasing in intensity until Adam tensed.
“Come with me,” he said. “Now.”
*****
The sun had long ago left the sky by the time Adam and Grace rose from their lovemaking and began to prepare dinner. Adam’s heart started hammering halfway through the grilling of the steak. From the deck, he watched Grace through the picture window, bustling and humming happily to herself as she threw together the salad, opened a bottle of Shiraz and checked the potatoes.
There was no other. There had never been another. There never would be.
My brave, beautiful, generous, sexually overheated, wildly sympathetic and sometimes goofy Grace. Her golden, almost innocent, loving heart. He smiled at his own thoughts.
“Adam, how far out are the steaks?” she called to him.
“Two minutes, Babe. For medium rare.”
“Perfect. I’m salivating. They smell so good.”
“You’re perfect,” he said.
“Aw, Adam. You are.”
Silly, loving talk in the haze of afterward. Adam lived for it.
Yet he was quiet over dinner, listening to Grace’s update on Hope’s adoption of Lawan and the follow-up story she was planning on the disgraced politician, Richard Phillips.
“I’m starting to think he’s crazy,” she finished.
“Crazed with power, certainly. Why do you think so?”
“He remi
nds me of a mad scientist, in a bad way. Thinks he can mess with people’s minds for some bizarre vision of the greater good.”
Grace took her last bite of steak. Adam didn’t say anything.
“Honey, are you all right?” Grace finally asked, a bit anxiously. “You’re quiet tonight. Sorry if I’m being intrusive . . . but is everything going okay with Anne?”
Adam took a sip of wine, inhaled deeply and sat up straight.
“Everything is going really well with Anne. Grace, I have something to tell you — to discuss with you. I waited until now, because I wanted a distraction-free moment. Well, hour or two.”
“What is it, Adam? Has something happened?”
“Yes. The chief fired Terry Pearson two weeks ago.”
“That’s great news. He’s such a jerk. And . . . ?”
“McIvor has asked if I’d like to take on his position.”
“Babe! Congratulations. I’m not all that surprised,” she said. “I’ve thought for a while that the chief had his eye on you. I didn’t think it would happen quite so soon. That’s wonderful, Adam.”
“I haven’t accepted yet. I wanted to talk to you about it first. I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job, Grace. I’d have many more people under me; can I do it? I can’t let them down. What if I crash and burn?”
Grace leaned over, sympathy written on her features, and placed a hand on his arm.
“It’s completely, totally up to you. Whatever you decide, I’ll be right behind you. But I believe you can do it, Adam. People follow you, wherever you go, whatever you do, and that’s a sign of a leader. And your good, strong heart — that’s why they should follow you. Don’t turn it down because you don’t think you can do it. You can. You’d be genius.”
“Thank you, Babe. But think about it. It’s very important to me that you’re absolutely sure.”
“It’s more important that you’re sure, Adam.”
Adam slipped to the floor from his chair, and from his knees, looked intently into Grace’s eyes.
“I’m hoping,” he said, voice dropping into a husky bass, “that you’ll make those decisions with me. Those, and more. All of them. Forever.”
“I’m so honoured, Adam. Of course. I’m always here for you . . . “
“Grace. I’m talking about forever. I cannot imagine my life without you. I know it’s only been a few months, but there is no doubt. I admire you. I want you. I love you. I know you’d be taking on a lot, with me, and I’m sorry for the hard nights and the worry and, sometimes, the danger. And the jealousy. I’m working on it.
“I want it all, the babies and the home life and the making love, with you, just you, forever.”
He stopped talking, and searched Grace’s face.
“Can you, will you . . . marry me, Grace?”
Fat, juicy tears rained from Grace’s eyes, the dark, enigmatic eyes that had intrigued Adam from the moment he met her. Only recently had he begun to learn to read them. Even now, he fell into their gaze, rapt and waiting for her response.
Grace continued to stare at Adam, as if she did not quite understand his words. A flicker of fear that she might say no thumped in his heart. He reached up to touch her cheek.
“Please say yes, Grace.”
Grace took his face between her hands and kissed him softly, as she had the very first time.
“Yes. Oh, God, Adam, yes. My love, my Adam . . . “
Then they were in each other’s arms, weeping together, holding on hard, hearts aching with joy and the bittersweet knowledge that life would bring so many things. Happiness. Heartbreak. Hard times and perfect times. Life.
Many minutes later, Adam realized he had forgotten something. He slipped two fingers into his shirt pocket, and delicately drew out the symbol of his love for her. Holding her left hand, he slid the shining, shimmering thing onto her fourth finger.
Grace gaped at her engagement ring, as if it might disappear. The diamond spat fire under the light, set in yellow gold that warmed her skin. The band scooped up on either side, the ends fashioned into flower petals with tiny diamonds sprinkled into their folds.
“It’s . . . I’m speechless. The word ‘beautiful’ doesn’t do it justice. Oh, Adam.”
“Take it off for a second, Grace,” Adam said.
“Never.”
Adam laughed. “Look inside, Babe.”
A puzzled look crossed her face, but she did as Adam asked. Inside, on the widest part of the ring under one of the petals, was a minuscule engraved cottage, identical to the Rampling cabin. On the other was the goldsmith’s mark, along with the tiny words, Yours Forever. Love, Adam.
“The same goldsmith who made my pendant,” Grace said. “It’s amazing. How did he manage to engrave the cabin? So tiny, so perfect. When did you . . . Adam, when did you have this made?”
“When we came back from the lake the second time. Grace, I’ve known since the day I met you that you were the only one. I had to wait, though. I didn’t want to presume that you could learn to love me in the same instant. But after the fire, after the madness, I couldn’t wait any longer. I want to always be with you, protect you, experience everything you do.
“And, I was so afraid you would associate the bad time — Elias and the fires and
Tom’s attack, all of it — with me, and not want to come here anymore. This place is in your heart, your mind, your very self. I want to be there, too. This was the only place to ask you to be mine, forever.”
“Adam, you are inside me like no one else, like nothing else. You are my heart; you are in my soul.”
They stood, then, and held each other, and kissed for a long time, sweetly, gently, murmuring unintelligible words of love. Adam finally drew his head back and looked into Grace’s tear-stained face.
“You will marry me, then.”
“I think I’ve made that clear, yes.”
“Is it too cold to go skinny dipping?”
“Definitely.”
Adam’s phone buzzed. He couldn’t believe it. Now? And how had he forgotten to turn it off? He reached to do so, but Grace stopped him.
“It’s probably very important, Adam. They wouldn’t call you otherwise.”
“I’m not answering this phone right now, Grace.”
“Sounds like a text notification to me. Just check it. We’re not going anywhere. Except maybe back to bed.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Well, if you’re going to be the new detective inspector . . . “
Adam sighed, and looked down to see it was, indeed, a text from James. His eyes widened.
“What is it, Adam?” Grace asked.
“There’s been a death at the Canadian Light Source. The synchrotron. A scientist has been killed.”
“Oh my God. How did it happen?”
“James didn’t say. He did say he could handle it until we got back.”
“Murder, I assume.”
“So he says.”
“Here we go again.”
“Yes. But not now.” Adam scooped Grace into his arms. “Now, we’re going back to bed.”
Notes and Acknowledgements
Northern Saskatchewan is a spectacular place. Forests, lakes, rivers and wildlife contribute to its wild beauty, and I have loved the area all my life.
One of the lakes is my second home. It is not, however, Ferguson Lake, which does not exist. Ferguson, aka Fire Lake, is an imaginary place nonetheless based in reality. It has been named for a certain resident who deserves to be honoured for his dedication to conservation and peace. Raven River is also fictitious.
Some elements of Fire Lake do refer to actual situations. For instance, there was a hermit who made his home on the shores of a lake, and it was partly his story that inspired mine, although this work is entirely one of fiction apart from the realities surrounding the Canadian peacekeeping tour in Somalia.
I am grateful for the support of so many people who put up with my plot musings, grumpy moments after hours of
writing and abandoned plans in the name of authorship.
First among them is my alpha reader, life support and plot-filler, my husband Ken. Thank you, you wonderful spousal unit, for everything. Always.
To my editors:
Tory Hunter: Thank you for clear comments, definitive direction, speed and brilliance.
Lori Coolican: Thank you for your knowledge, patience and Gracefulness.
CeCe Baptiste: You inspire me and make me better in so many ways. Thank you.
To my beta readers: I have listened to all of you, and Fire Lake is much improved because of your input.
To my family: Thank you for supporting and loving me despite this crazy new adventure.
To you, gentle reader: Thank you for your time and your readership, not just of this book, but all the books.
The Adam and Grace Series
Adam’s Witness
When reporter Grace Rampling stumbles onto a grisly crime scene while on a routine assignment, she abruptly finds herself at the centre of a police investigation into the death of a Catholic bishop.
Evidence points to a troubling hate crime as Grace finds herself central to the case — as a key witness, a suspect and even potential victim. Lead investigator Detective Sergeant Adam Davis is thrown by the fierce attraction he feels toward Grace that, if acted upon, could throw the entire case into jeopardy.
With Grace at risk and off limits, Adam races to unravel an increasingly disturbing mystery, while he struggles to both protect and resist the woman of his dreams.
Broken Through
Winner: Best Mystery, Indie Originals Literature Competition
Based on a true crime.
A dead dog. A smashed car. A wild storm . . . and then, a violent death.
The quiet streets of a Prairie city have rarely seen such brutality. Tough crime reporter Grace Rampling is covering the case until it suddenly becomes very personal: a close friend is on the front line of danger.
Grace's lover, Detective Sgt. Adam Davis, is forced to return home from a conference, confront his PTSD and find a murderer before he, or she, kills again. And as Adam knows, a psychopath never commits just one crime.
Fire Lake
