Dreamkeepers

by Dorothy Garlock

  “A glider?” Marty echoed. “You don’t know anything about gliding.”

  “That’s what you think, oh sweet one. I’ve had an ache to try my hand at gliding for a long time. Jack’s got a motorized glider.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” Marty protested.

  “It really isn’t, Marty,” Jonathan said “When I was in Iowa last summer I tried it and got hooked. The young fellow who builds them taught me how to fly in just a few days. You sit under the wing in a harness suspended from the frame. A control bar in front of the harness connects to the rudder with control lines. The pilot controls the glider by shifting his weight. Lean back and it climbs; lean forward and it dives; move to the right, the glider turns right.”

  “Still sounds dangerous. How high up do you go? Tram, I’d die of fright if you flew in such a thing!”

  Jonathan laughed, and tightened his arm around Kelly. “How about you, honey? Would it frighten you?”

  “Depends. It sounds fragile.”

  “It is. It’s only a hundred and fifty pounds of Dacron and aluminum powered by a fifteen-horse, two-cylinder motor. I figure we could put skis on it and pull it with the snowmobile to get it started. Think that would work, Mike?”

  “It will if twenty-five miles an hour will get you airborne.” Mike’s eyes shone with interest.

  “That should do it. The contraption is still packed in crates. You fellows will have to help me assemble it.” Jonathan laughed. “Mechanics is not my long suit.”

  “We can put it together if we have the instructions.” Mike’s blue eyes were now dancing with enthusiasm.

  “I still think you’re crazy,” Marty said. “It’ll be too damn cold to work on the thing until spring.”

  “We can work in the shed,” Mike said. “We’ve got an old potbellied wood stove I can set up. It will be warm enough for us to work.”

  “1 knew it,” Marty groaned. “Just mention putting a model together and he’s off like a shot. Remember, Kelly, when he spent hours and hours on his darned old models and wouldn’t play with us?” She put her hand on the top of Tram’s head. “Darling, I don’t want you to fall out of that thing and land on this.”

  Tram laughed and grabbed her hand. “I promise I’ll fall in a snowbank. How’s that?”

  “Kelly and I will be going to Anchorage in a few days,” Jonathan said in the lull that followed. “While we’re there, I’ll have the glider kit sent out. We should see about bringing Bonnie back, too. Her leg is in a cast, but she’ll be able to get around. What do you think, sweetheart? Can they manage without us for a few days?”

  “I guess they’ll have to,” Kelly said drily. He’d done it again, she thought bitterly. He’d won over Tram and Mike with the glider and then mentioned the trip to Anchorage in a way that made it impossible for her to refuse.

  They walked silently down the snow-packed path to their cabin and Kelly went to take a shower as soon as she hung up her coat. She had to admit it was nice to have hot water any time she wanted it. She stood beneath the warm stream and let the tension wash out of her. Later in bed she listened to the hiss of the water as Jonathan took his own shower. How could he possibly be content to stay in this primitive place? Why was he doing it?

  She was still wondering about it when Jonathan got into bed and pulled her against his naked chest.

  “Did the shower warm you up?” he asked, nuzzling her face with his lips. “Come on now. Admit it’s nice to take a hot shower after coming in out of the cold.”

  “I never said it wasn’t nice. I said we couldn’t afford to run the electric tank all day. When you don’t have much money, you have to be careful how you spend it.”

  “You don’t have to be careful, darling. How can I make you understand that?”

  “You can’t.” Her voice came out in a shaken whisper because his lips were tormenting the hollow at the base of her throat. The old familiar excitement was beginning to throb through her blood. Holding her breath so that she couldn’t smell the scents of his hair and skin, she willed herself to lie perfectly still and not respond.

  “You didn’t have much to say about the trip to Anchorage.” His lips had moved on to tantalize the tender swell of her exposed breast.

  “You didn’t give me any choice.”

  “Don’t you want to see a doctor about birth control?” His thumb stroked her nipple, sending a shiver of fierce pleasure through her body.

  “Yes!” she said fiercely. “But I wouldn’t need to see a doctor if you . . .”

  He cut off her words with his lips. “Hush! I can’t do that. Don’t ask me to do the impossible.” He made a hoarse sound and rolled on top of her, pushing her slender body into the softness of the bed.

  Kelly couldn’t hold back a groan of satisfaction that seemed to come from the pit of her stomach. Her heart was racing, her blood thundering in her ears. Her body was so taut she felt she would explode with the agony of wanting him.

  Hungrily his mouth explored her parted lips, making them quiver in eager response until her own mouth opened to the sweet taste of his kisses. She touched his bare chest, his back, her hands possessive, stroking the tense muscles, hearing the blood pound in her ears, deafening her. Their kisses became harder as their naked bodies strained against each other. Kelly was terrified of the fire burning deep inside her. For a fleeting moment she considered pushing him away from her. But his body had hardened in intolerable desire, forcing her to feel the urgency of his need against her lower limbs. His hands moved down to cup her buttocks and she lost the power to resist him.

  “Darling,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Kelly, Kelly, darling.” His face was buried in her throat. “I’ve got to have . . . You’ll hate me if I get you pregnant, but I’ve got to . . .” His mouth sought hers.

  She broke off the kiss to take a shuddering breath. “I won’t hate you, Jack.” She enfolded him tenderly in her arms, luxuriating in the feel of his hard shoulders against her palms.

  The heat of their passion overwhelmed her. As it spread through her limbs, all the pressures that had built up within her were released. For timeless moments the love she had felt two years before broke through the barriers she had erected and surged free in a burst of uncontrollable elation. Then he was sighing and sagging against her and the tears she had held in check for so long squeezed between her tightly closed lids, wetting his chest. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, not saying a word, just stroking her hair, her cheeks and her throat until, soothed and comforted, she drifted off to sleep.

  She woke in the night to find herself alone. Deprived of that warm male body she had become accustomed to having beside her, she felt bereft. The light was on in the other room so she left her warm bed and paused in the doorway. Jonathan was standing beside the fireplace, where a fresh log lay on the grate. He stood there, a solitary, lonely figure in pajama bottoms, his feet bare, his arm resting on the mantel. As she watched, he raked a hand through his hair, tousling it, then rubbed it wearily across his forehead. He reached over and turned off the lamp, then stood staring down into the flames, the red glow flickering on his bare chest.

  “Jonathan . . .”

  He turned and stared at her for a long time, his eyes roaming over her face as though trying to read her thoughts. Then, as if suddenly coming to life, he moved the screen back in front of the blaze and came toward her.

  “It’s cold, honey. Get back in bed.” In the firelight his eyes flickered over the white gleam of her body. “I got up to put on another log and discovered I had left the damper open. You’re shivering.”

  He led her back to the bedroom, lifted the blankets, and she slid into bed. She could see her breath, it was so cold. He got in beside her and she went willingly into his arms.

  “What were you thinking about standing there beside the fire?” she whispered against his skin. “Were you thinking how nice it would be in a centrally heated apartment with a cook in the kitchen to fix your breakfast and bring it to you on a tray?�
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  “No. Central heat and breakfast were the farthest things from my mind. But speaking of breakfast, I’d like some blueberry pancakes.”

  “Tough. I’m the cook and I want French toast.”

  “Blueberry pancakes.” He poked her in the ribs and she wiggled and hid her face against his neck.

  “I’d argue, but I’m too comfy. How about you?”

  Jonathan smiled and held her very close. “Me, too,” he whispered into her hair.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT SEEMED STRANGE to be sitting in the plane beside Jonathan. Kelly stole a look at him. His dark hair had grown long in the weeks he had been at the resort. Then the dark eyes that could sparkle with bitterness or amusement returned her look and he smiled, his staid features boyishly handsome. He confused her, excited her, angered her. They had little in common, except for a powerful physical bond, and here they were in his plane on their way to Anchorage just like a normal married couple.

  “The trip shouldn’t take over an hour,” Jonathan was saying. His eyes flicked over her face, framed by the fur collar of her coat. Wisps of hair lay around her face and her eyes were large and faintly apprehensive.

  Kelly looked down at the white and green landscape of forest and plains. This was rugged country, beautiful country, her country.

  “Look! There’s a herd of caribou.” Her eyes, bright with excitement one moment turned sad the next. “They didn’t even run. They’ve become so used to planes and helicopters they’ll just stand and be slaughtered by so-called sportsmen who hunt by plane.” Her voice was bitter.

  “Isn’t there a law against that kind of hunting?”

  “Yes, but how can they enforce it in this vast country?” She looked out the window at the patches of pine dotting the white landscape. Alaska, as she had known it, was fast disappearing, becoming a “get-rich, oil-boom” state. Soon the image of Alaska—huskies trotting across the icy tundra, Eskimos bundled up in fur parkas, trail-weary trappers, and frosty-bearded old sourdoughs—would be just a memory.

  “Why does it have to be this way?” She brought her concerned eyes back to Jonathan. “Why does everything have to change? There’s no sameness to anything anymore. The country changes, relationships change, people don’t bother to get married unless they’re having a child, don’t work if they can get a handout from the government. They scar the earth, destroy the wildlife, disrupt nature’s cycle, contaminate . . .”

  “Hush, sweetheart. There isn’t a thing we can do about most of those things. At least we’re not guilty of one of them. We got married.”

  “Yes. We got married,” she echoed, but there was no joy in her words and she turned back to the window so he wouldn’t see the pain in her eyes.

  The plane landed and was towed to a private hangar. A blond man with a blond mustache waited at the bottom of the steps. He and the other men working around the plane remained silent as they observed Kelly coming down the steps, Jonathan behind her, his hand tucked beneath her elbow.

  “Hello, Mark. How are you standing this cold weather?”

  “Not bad, sir. I don’t find all that much difference between the weather here and in Boston.”

  “This is my wife, Mark. Sweetheart, this is Mark Lemon.” Was that pride in his voice? she wondered. Surely not!

  “Happy to meet you, Mrs. Templeton.”

  “Kelly. Call me Kelly.” If the man noticed that her voice held more command than request, he didn’t allow it to show.

  The pilot handed out Kelly’s small bag which Jonathan took from her. Mark picked up Jonathan’s larger, heavier suitcase and led the way to a car parked just outside the hangar. It wasn’t as big a car, or as expensive a model as the ones Jonathan used in Boston, but it was new and roomy. Somehow Kelly couldn’t picture Jonathan in a small compact car. Mark stowed the luggage in the trunk.

  “Can you catch a ride into town with Tom if we go on alone?” Jonathan asked.

  “I’m sure I can.” Mark turned to call to the pilot. “Going into town, Tom?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Mark handed the car keys to Jonathan and opened the door for Kelly.

  “There’s a couple of urgent matters I’d like to discuss, sir,” he said when Kelly was seated.

  “They’ll have to wait, Mark. I’ll call the office tomorrow. Did you have any trouble making the arrangements I requested?” he asked sharply.

  “No, sir. None at all, but . . .”

  “Anything else can wait.” Jonathan opened the door and folded his long length into the car. He glanced at Kelly briefly before starting the motor and following the arrows out of the parking ramp, then easing the car into the stream of traffic.

  “Anything you especially want to do?” he asked, breaking the silence between them.

  “There’s a few friends I’d like to phone. You never did tell me how long we’ll be here.” She tried not to sound accusing, but it came out that way.

  “I’d like to stay four days. It’s the middle of the week and we’re not needed at the resort.”

  “Four days! I can’t possibly stay four days. I thought this was an overnight trip. I only brought one other outfit besides the one I’m wearing.”

  “Is that all that’s bothering you? Don’t they have clothing stores in Anchorage?” His hand left the wheel and caressed her knee. “We can get you outfitted without any bother at all.”

  “I don’t want to be outfitted like an orphan dragged in out of the boonies! I prefer my own clothes, thank you!” She faced him angrily. “I thought I was coming here to see a gynecologist and to be fitted with a contraceptive shield. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “Why are you so angry? What’s so unusual about a man wanting to buy clothes for his wife?” He pushed down on the gas pedal and the car shot forward.

  “We’re not a normal married couple, and you know it. You have your life and I have mine.”

  “That’s not true. We’ve been living together. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “We’ve been sleeping together. There’s a difference.”

  He muttered a curse and turned to her, his eyes glittering with suppressed anger. A van cut in front of them and he jammed on the brake, swearing mightily.

  “Good grief, Kelly! Marriage is a two way street and if I’m willing to give a little, you should do the same.”

  “If you’ll remember, Jonathan, I never asked you to ‘give a little.’ It was your idea to resume our . . . our married status. I was perfectly content with my life and ready to sign the divorce papers. I’ll admit it was petty of me to not let you know where I was. But I had eight miserable months with you and I was just human enough to want someone to suffer for it.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “It was that bad?”

  “Yes, Jonathan, it was.” She felt no joy in telling him.

  He looked at her briefly again. “I’m sorry I made you so unhappy,” he said softly.

  She felt drained of all emotion. “It wasn’t all your fault. I shouldn’t have married you until I knew what would be expected of me.”

  They arrived at a parking ramp when Jonathan rolled down the window and said, “Jonathan Templeton.” Immediately the door opened into the underground parking area and they were escorted to a space near the elevator. Two uniformed attendants hastened to help them out while another spoke on the telephone.

  “Mr. Templeton is here,” he announced importantly.

  Suddenly the whole situation struck Kelly as funny and she burst out laughing. Jonathan looked down at her with surprise and confusion.

  “What’s so funny?” His tone wiped the grin from her face.

  “You wouldn’t understand, Jonathan.”

  “Try me,” he insisted.

  She ignored him and followed the attendant into the elevator. Jonathan entered too and handed the man a bill.

  “I’ll take them from here.”

  As the elevator rose, long forgotten memories came rushing back to Kelly. T
he door opened, Jonathan picked up both bags, and, without looking at her, led the way down a short hallway. He set the bags down, and opened the door, and before Kelly could catch her breath, he had picked her up and carried her into the room. He set her on her feet and stood looking down at her.

  “Hello,” he said softly.

  She looked at him with stricken eyes before turning away to hide her tears. The room was just like it had been before. Two dozen roses stood on a table beside the bed. A bottle of champagne rested in a bucket of ice. A filmy white nightdress was draped over the chair. Her eyes fastened on to the nightdress and she said the first thing that came to mind.

  “I’m not a virgin this time.”

  Jonathan pulled her to him. “And I’m responsible for that, too.” He kissed her gently, tenderly, and let her go when she moved to leave his arms. “You have an appointment with the doctor in . . .” he looked at his watch “. . . forty-five minutes. Would you like to shower? You can use all the hot water you want.”

  Watching various expressions flit across his face, Kelly thought of his arrogance, and the highhanded methods he had used to get what he wanted. But his persistence disarmed her.

  “I wish I knew what was going on inside that head of yours,” he murmured, almost as if to himself.

  “I was thinking of the electric bill if they heat all the water used here with electricity.”

  “Liar!” The way he said the word made it more a caress than a censure. He took her coat from her and gave her a gentle push. “Time is fleeting, woman. Take your shower, or I’ll be in there with you and we’ll miss the appointment altogether.”

  Standing under the warm water, Kelly thought of the last time she had stood here—with Jack. They had soaped each other, frolicked and played like two kids, and finally come together as one under the sensuous spray. On that day she had never imagined life would be anything but beautiful. She stepped out of the shower, toweled herself dry, and slipped into clean underwear, willing herself not to think of anything but the present.

  They went down in the elevator together and walked across the lobby past elegantly dressed matrons, tourists, and young executives hurrying by with expensive briefcases tucked under their arms. The weather was comparatively warm and Kelly walked beside Jonathan, her coat open and her head bare.