by Nora Roberts
“But did you?”
Frank let out a sigh. He could see how they’d circled around now, see parts of the roofline, the glint of the windows of the inn. “Livvy, I think he was weak, and the drugs played into that weakness. They made him believe things that weren’t true and do things that weren’t right. Your mother separated from him to protect you as much, probably more, than herself. And, I think, hoping it would push him into getting help.”
But it didn’t, Olivia thought. It didn’t make him get help, it didn’t protect anyone.
“If he wasn’t living there anymore, why was he in the house that night?”
“The evidence indicated she let him in.”
“Because she still loved him.” She shook her head before Frank could answer. “It’s all right. I understand. Will they keep him in jail forever?”
There are so few forevers, Frank thought. “He was given a sentence of twenty years to life, the first fifteen without possibility of parole.”
Her eyes narrowed in a frown of concentration. Fifteen years was longer than she’d been alive, but it wasn’t enough. “Does that mean he can just get out in seven more years? Just like that, after what he did?”
“No, not necessarily. The system . . .” How could he possibly explain the twists and turns of it to a child? “He’ll go before a panel, like a test.”
“But the people on the panel don’t know. They weren’t there. It won’t matter to them.”
“Yes, it will matter. I can go.” And he would, Frank decided, and speak for the child. “I’m allowed to go and address the panel because I was there.”
“Thank you.” The tears wanted to come back, so she held out a hand to shake his. “Thank you for talking to me.”
“Livvy.” He took her hand, then touched his free one to her cheek. “You can call or write me anytime you want.”
“Really?”
“I’d like it if you did.”
The tears stopped burning, her nerves smoothed out. “Then I will. I’m really glad you came. I hope you and your family have a good time. If you want, I can sign you up for one of the guided hikes while you’re here, or I can show you which trails you can take on your own.”
Going with instinct, Frank smiled at her. “We’d like that, but only if we can hire you as guide. We want the best.”
She studied him with calm and sober eyes. “Skyline Trail’s only thirty-one miles.” When his mouth fell open, she smiled a little. “Just kidding. I know a nice day hike if you like to take pictures.”
“What’s your definition of a nice day hike?”
Her grin flashed, quick and surprising. “Just a couple of miles. You’ll see beaver and osprey. The lodge can make up a boxed lunch if you want a picnic.”
“Sold. How about tomorrow?”
“I’ll check with my grandfather, but it should be all right. I’ll come by about eleven-thirty.” She glanced down at his scuffed high-tops. “You’d be better off with boots, but those are okay if you don’t have them. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Livvy?” he called when she turned back toward the trees. “Should I buy a compass?”
She tossed a quick smile over her shoulder. “I won’t let you get lost.”
She walked into the trees, going fast now until she was sure no one could see. Then she stopped, hugging herself hard, rocking, letting the tears spill out.
They were hot and stinging; her chest ached with them as it hitched. But after they’d fallen, after she was able to breathe again, to scrub her face dry with her hands, she felt better.
And at age twelve, Olivia decided what she would do with and how she would live her life. She would learn all there was to learn about the forest, the lakes, the mountains that were her home. She would live and she would work in the place she loved, the place where her mother had grown up.
She would, over time, find out more about her mother. And about the man who killed her. She would love the first with all her heart. Just as she would hate the second.
And she would never, never fall in love the way her mother had.
She would become her own woman. Starting now.
She stopped to wash her face in the stream, then sat quietly until she was sure all traces of tears and tattered emotions were gone. Her grandparents were to be protected—that was another promise she made herself. She would see to it that nothing she did ever caused them pain.
So when she walked into the clearing and saw her grandfather weeding his flowers, she crossed to him, knelt beside him with a smile. “I just did this over at the lodge. The gardens look really nice there.”
“You got my green thumb, kiddo.” He winked at her. “We won’t talk about the color of your grandmother’s.”
“She does okay with houseplants. A family just checked into the lodge. A couple and their son.” Casually, Olivia uprooted a weed. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she thought it wisest to skirt around the bare truth. “The mother said she’d hiked around here when she was a teenager, but I don’t think the other two know a bush from a porcupine. Anyway, they’d like me to go out with them tomorrow, just a short hike. I thought I’d take them to Irely Lake, along the river so they could take pictures.”
He sat back on his heels, the line of worry already creasing his forehead. “I don’t know, Livvy.”
“I’d like to do it. I know the way, and I want to start learning even more about running the lodge and campground, more about the trails and even the backcountry areas. I’ve gone along on guided hikes before, and I want to see if I can do one by myself. It’s just down to Irely. If I do a good job, I could start training to guide other hikes during the summer and maybe give talks and stuff for kids. When I’m older, I could even do overnights, and be a naturalist like they have in the park. Only I’d be better, because I grew up here. Because it’s home.”
He reached out to skim his knuckles over her cheek. He could see Julie in her eyes, Julie, when she’d been a young girl and telling him of her dreams to be a great actress. Her dream had taken her away from him. Olivia’s would keep her close.
“You’re still young enough to change your mind a dozen times.”
“I won’t. But anyway, I won’t know if I’m good or if it’s really what I want until I try. I want to try, just a little bit, tomorrow.”
“Just down to Irely?”
“I showed the father the loop trail from the inn before I left. He kept talking about getting lost.” She shared an easy chuckle with Rob. “I think Irely’s about all he can handle.”
Knowing she’d won, she got up, brushed off her jeans. “I’m going to go see if Grandma needs any help with dinner.” Then she stopped, leaned down to wrap her arms around Rob’s neck. “I’m going to make you proud of me.”
“I am proud of you, baby.”
She hugged tighter. “Just wait,” she whispered, then darted inside.
Olivia was exactly on time. She’d decided that would be important to how she lived her life from now on. She would always be prompt; she would always be prepared.
She arrived early at the lodge to collect the boxed lunch for the hike. It would be her job to carry the supplies. She was young and strong, she thought as she stowed them in her backpack. She would get older, and she would get stronger.
She shouldered the pack, adjusted the straps.
She had her compass, her knife, bottled water, spare plastic bags to seal up any trash or garbage, her camera, a notepad and pencils, a first-aid kit.
She’d spent three hours the night before reading, studying, absorbing information and history. She was going to see to it that the Bradys had an entertaining, and an educational, afternoon.
When she walked around to the patio entrance of the unit, she saw Noah sitting in one of the wooden chairs. He was wearing headphones and tapping his fingers restlessly on the arm of the chair. His legs were long, clad in ripped jeans and stretched out to cross at the ankles of high-top Nikes.
He wore sunglasses with very dar
k lenses. It occurred to her she’d yet to see him without them. His hair was damp as if he’d recently come from the shower or the pool. It was casually slicked back and drying in the sun.
She thought he looked like a rock star.
Shyness wanted to swallow her, but she straightened her shoulders. If she was going to be a guide, she had to learn to get over being shy around boys and everyone else. “Hi.”
His head moved a little, his fingers stopped tapping. She realized he’d probably had his eyes closed behind those black lenses and hadn’t even seen her.
“Yeah, hi.” He reached down to turn off the cassette that was singing in his ears. “I’ll get the troops.”
When he stood up, she had to tip back her head to keep her eyes on his face. “Did you try the pool?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a grin and had the woman’s heart still sleeping in the child’s breast stirring. “Water’s cold.” He opened the patio door. “Hey, the trailblazer’s here.” There was a muffled response from behind the bedroom door before he turned back to Olivia. “You might as well sit down. Mom’s never ready on time.”
“There’s no hurry.”
“Good thing.”
Deciding it was more polite to sit since he’d asked her to, she lowered herself to the stone patio. She fell into a silence that was part shyness and part simple inexperience.
Noah studied her profile. She interested him because of her connection to his father and to Julie MacBride and, he admitted, because of her connection to murder. Murder fascinated him.
He would have asked her about it if he hadn’t been certain both his parents would have skinned him for it. He might have risked that, but he remembered the image of the small child with her hands over her ears and tears flooding her cheeks.
“So . . . what do you do around here?”
Her gaze danced in his direction, then away. “Stuff.” She felt the heat climb into her cheeks at the foolishness of the answer.
“Oh yeah, stuff. We never do that in California.”
“Well, I do chores, help out at the campground and here at the lodge. I hike and fish. I’m learning about the history of the area, the flora and fauna, that sort of thing.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“My grandmother teaches me at home.”
“At home?” He tipped down his sunglasses so she got a glimpse of deep green eyes. “Some deal.”
“She’s pretty strict,” Olivia mumbled, then leaped to her feet in relief when Frank stepped out.
“Celia’s coming. I figured I should go get our lunch.”
“I have it.” Olivia shifted her pack. “Cold fried chicken, potato salad, fruit and pound cake. Sal, that’s the chef, he makes the best.”
“You shouldn’t carry all that,” Frank began, but she stepped back.
“It’s part of my job.” Then she looked past him, saw Celia and felt shy again. “Good morning, Mrs. Brady.”
“Good morning. I saw a deer out my window this morning. She stepped through the fog like something out of a fairy tale. By the time I snapped out of it and dug out my camera, she was gone.”
“You’ll probably see more. The blacktail is common in the forest. You might catch sight of a Roosevelt elk, too.”
Celia tapped the camera hanging from a strap around her neck as she stepped out. “This time, I’m prepared.”
“If you’re ready, we’ll get started.” Olivia had already, subtly she hoped, checked out their shoes and clothes and gear. It would do well enough for the short, easy hike. “You can stop me anytime you want to take pictures or rest or ask questions. I don’t know how much you know about Olympic, or the rainforest,” she began as she started the walk.
She’d practiced her presentation that morning as she’d dressed and led into it very much as she had when her aunt had played tourist for her.
When she mentioned bear, Celia didn’t squeal as Jamie had, but sighed. “Oh, I’d love to see one.”
“Jeez, Mom, you would.”
Celia laughed and hooked an arm around Noah’s neck. “Hopeless city boys, Livvy. Both of them. You’ve got your work cut out for you with these two.”
“That’s okay, it’s good practice.”
She identified trees for them, but got the feeling only Celia was particularly interested. Though Noah did seem to perk up when she spotted an eagle for him high in the moss- and lichen-draped trees. But when she cut over to the river and the world opened up a bit, all three of her charges seemed to get into the spirit.
“This is the Quinault,” Olivia told them. “It runs to the coast. The Olympic Range rings the interior.”
“God, it’s beautiful. It takes your breath away.” Celia had her camera up, busily framing and snapping. “Look at the way the mountains stand against the sky, Frank. White and green and gray against that blue. It’s like taking a picture of a painting.”
Olivia scrambled around in her head for what she knew about the mountains. “Ah, Mount Olympus is actually less than eight thousand feet at its peak, but it rises from the rain forest at almost sea level, so it looks bigger. It has, I think it’s six, glaciers. We’re on the western slopes of the range.”
She led them along the river, pointing out the clever dams the beavers built, the stringlike petals of wild goldthread, the delicate white of marsh marigold. They passed other hikers on the trail, singles and groups.
Celia stopped often for pictures, and her men posed with patience if not enthusiasm. When Olivia managed to catch a red-legged frog, Celia took pictures of that as well, laughing in delight when it let out its long feeble croak.
Then she surprised Olivia by stroking a long finger over the frog’s back. Hardly any of the women Olivia knew wanted to pet frogs. When she released it, she and Celia smiled at each other in perfect unity.
“Your mother’s found a soul sister,” Frank muttered to Noah.
Olivia was about to point out an osprey nest when a toddler raced down the trail, evading the young parents who called and rushed after him.
He tripped and came to a skidding halt on knees and elbows almost at Olivia’s feet. And wailed like a thousand bagpipes.
She started to bend down, but Noah was faster and had the boy scooped up, jiggling him cheerfully. “Uh-oh. Wipeout.”
“Scotty! Oh, honey, I told you not to run!” The frantic mother grabbed for him, then looked back at her out-of-breath husband. “He’s bleeding. He’s scraped his knees.”
“Damn it. How bad? Let’s see, buddy.”
As the boy screamed and sobbed, Olivia slipped off her pack. “You’ll need to wash his cuts. I have some bottled water and a first-aid kit.”
She went to work so efficiently, Frank signaled Celia back.
“You’ll have to hold him still,” Olivia said. “I can’t clean it if he’s kicking.”
“I know it hurts, honey, I know. We’re going to make it all better.” The mother kissed Scotty’s cheeks. “Here, let me clean off the cuts. Thanks so much.” She took the cloth Olivia had dampened and struggled with her husband to keep the child still long enough to see the damage.
“Just scrapes. Knocked the bark off, buddy.” The father kept his voice light, but his face was very pale as his wife cleaned the blood away.
Olivia handed over antiseptic, and one glance at the little bottle had Scotty switching from wails to ear-piercing screams.
“Hey, you know what you need.” Noah pulled a candy bar out of his back pocket, waved it in front of Scotty’s face. “You need to spoil your lunch.”
Scotty eyed the chocolate bar through fat tears. His lips trembled, but instead of a screech he let out a pitiful whimper. “Candy.”
“You bet. You like candy? This is pretty special candy. It’s only for brave boys. I bet you’re brave.”
Scotty sniffled, reached out, too intent on the bar to notice his mother quickly bandaging his knees. “ ’kay.”
“Here you go, then.” Noah held it out, then tugged it just out of
reach with a grin. “I forgot. I can only give this candy to somebody named Scotty.”
“I’m Scotty.”
“No kidding? Then this must be yours.”
“Thanks. Thanks so much.” The mother shifted the now-delighted child to her hip and shoved back her hair with her free hand. “You’re lifesavers.”
Olivia glanced up from where she was repacking her first-aid kit. “You should make sure you pick up one of these if you’re going to do much hiking. The River’s End Lodge gift shop carries them, or you can get them in town.”
“First on my list. Along with emergency chocolate. Thanks again.” She looked over to Frank and Celia. “You’ve got great kids.”
Olivia started to speak, then ducked her head and said nothing. But not so quickly that Celia hadn’t seen the look of unhappiness. “You two make a good team,” she said cheerfully. “And that little adventure worked up my appetite. When’s lunch, Liv?”
Olivia looked up, blinked. Liv, she thought. It sounded strong and sure and smart. “There’s a nice area just a little farther down. We might get lucky and see a couple of beavers instead of just their dams.”
She picked her spot, a shady area just off the trail where they could sit and watch the water, or gaze off toward the mountains. The air was warm, the sky clear in one of those perfect summer days the peninsula could offer.
Olivia nibbled at her chicken and held herself back just a little. She wanted to watch the Bradys together. They seemed so easy, so meshed. Later, when she was older and looked back on that comfortable hour, she would call it a rhythm. They had a rhythm of movement, of speech, of silences. Little bits of humor that were intimately their own, tossed-off comments, teasing, body language.
And she would realize, remembering, that however much she and her grandparents loved one another, they didn’t have quite that same connection.
A generation stood between them. Her mother’s life, and her death.
But just then all she knew was that she felt a tug of longing, an ache of envy. It made her ashamed. “I’m going to walk down a little more.” She got up, ordering herself to do so casually. “I’ll see if I can spot some beavers. If I do, I’ll come back and get you.”
