by Janet Dailey
“Who knows? Maybe we’ll find Chief Namekagon’s lost silver mine,” Eve remarked.
Toby turned to her. “What lost silver mine?”
“The one that belonged to the Indian chief the lake was named after. Legend has it that it’s on one of the islands on the lake,” she explained.
“Is it true?” Toby frowned.
“No one knows for sure,” she admitted. “But he paid for all his purchases at the trading post in Ashland with pure silver ore. Supposedly the old chief was going to show the location of his mine to a friend, but he saw a bad omen and postponed the trip. Then he died without ever telling anyone where it was.”
“Wow!” Toby declared with round-eyed excitement. “Wouldn’t it be something if we found it?”
“A lot of people have looked over the years,” Eve cautioned. “No one has found it yet.”
“How about having our picnic there?” Luck pointed to an island with a wide crescent of sand stretching in front of its pine trees.
“It looks perfect.” Eve approved the choice, and Luck nosed the boat toward the spot.
Five
* * *
The three of them sat cross-legged on a blanket Luck had brought from the boat while Eve unpacked the picnic basket. “Cheese, fruit, crackers,” Luck said, observing the items she removed. “All that’s missing is a bottle of wine. You should have said something.”
There were too many romantic overtones in that remark. Eve wasn’t sure how to interpret it, so she tried the casual approach and reached in the basket for the cold thermos.
“I guess we’ll have to make do with lemonade,” she shrugged brightly.
“I like lemonade,” Toby inserted as she set the thermos aside to arrange a sandwich and a portion of chips on a paper plate and handed it to him. “This looks good, Eve.”
“I hope you like it.” She fixed a plate for Luck, then one for herself, leaving the cheese, fruit and crackers on top of the basket for dessert.
“Have you ever looked for the lost mine, Eve?” Toby munched thoughtfully on his sandwich while he studied her.
“Not really. Just a few times when I was your age.”
The subject continued to fascinate him. Throughout the meal, he pumped her for information, dredging up tidbits of knowledge Eve had forgotten she knew. Toby refused the slice of cheese she offered him when his sandwich was gone but took the shiny apple.
Luck ate his. When it was gone, he used the knife to slice off another chunk. “This is good cheese.”
“Wisconsin cheese, of course,” she smiled. “Anything else would be unpatriotic.”
“Did Chief Namekagon really have seven wives?” Toby returned to his favorite subject.
“Yes, but I guess he must have kept the location of the mine a secret from them, too,” Eve replied.
“Seven wives,” Toby sighed, and glanced at his father. “Gee, dad, all you need is one.”
“Or none,” Luck murmured softly, and sent a look of silencing sharpness at his son. “More lemonade, Toby?”
“No, thanks.” He tossed his apple core into the small sack Eve had brought along for their wastepaper. Rising, Toby dusted the sandwich crumbs from his legs. “Is it okay if I do a little exploring?”
At Luck’s nod of permission, Toby took off. Within minutes, he had disappeared along a faint animal path that led into the island’s thick forest. For the first few minutes, they could hear him rustling through the underbrush. When that stopped, Eve became conscious of the silence and that she was alone with Luck. Her gaze strayed to him, drawn by an irrepressible compulsion, only to have her heart knock against her ribs when she found him watching her.
“More cheese?” She spoke quickly to cover the sudden disturbance that seethed through her. In the far distance, there was the sound of a boat traversing the lake, reminding her they weren’t the only ones in the vicinity, no matter how isolated they seemed.
“No. I’m full.” Luck shook his dark head in refusal.
Inactivity didn’t suit her at the moment because she knew it would take her thoughts in a direction that wasn’t wise. “I’d better pack all this away before it attracts all the insects on the island.”
Eve tightly wrapped the cheese that was left and stowed it in the basket with the thermos of lemonade and the few potato chips that were left. As she added the paper sack with their litter to the basket, she was conscious that Luck had risen. When he crouched beside her, balanced on the balls of his feet, she found it difficult to breathe normally. His warm scent was all around her, heightened by the heat of the sun. She was kneeling on the blanket, sitting on her heels, aware of him with a fine-tuned radar.
“The food was very good. Thanks for the picnic, Eve.” His hand reached out to cup the back of her head and pull her forward.
Lifting her gaze, she watched the sensual line of his mouth coming closer. She couldn’t have resisted him if she wanted to, which she didn’t. Her eyes closed an instant before his mouth touched her lips, then moved onto them to linger an instant. The kiss started her trembling all the way to her toes. Much too soon he was lifting his head, leaving her lips aching for the warm pressure of his mouth.
The very brevity of the kiss reminded her that it was a gesture of gratitude. It had meant no more than a peck on the cheek. She would be foolish to read more into it than that. Lowering her head, she struggled to appear unmoved by the experience, as casual about it as he seemed to be. Her fingers fastened on the wicker handle of the picnic basket.
“Do you want to put this in the boat now?” She picked it up to hand it to him, her gaze slanting upward.
For an instant Eve was subjected to the probing search of his narrowed eyes. Then his smooth smile erased the sensation as he took the picnic basket from her,
“Might as well,” Luck agreed idly, and pushed to his feet.
Standing up, Eve resisted the impulse to watch him walk to the boat. Instead she shook the crumbs and grains of sand off the blanket and folded it into a square. Feeling the isolation again, she turned her gaze to the treed interior of the island. The blanket was clutched in front of her, pressed protectively to her fluttering stomach. Behind her Eve heard the approach of Luck’s footsteps in the sand.
“Where do you suppose Toby has gone?” she wondered.
“Leave the blanket here. We’ll see if we can find him,” Luck suggested, and took her hand after she’d laid the blanket down.
His easy possession sent a warm thrill over her skin. Eve liked the sensation of her slender hand being lost in the largeness of his. Together they walked to the narrow trail Toby had taken, where they would have to proceed single file.
“I’ll go first, in case we run into some briers. I wouldn’t want your legs to be scratched up.” The downward sweep of his gaze took note of the bareness of her legs below the white shorts.
Instead of releasing her hand to start up the path, as Eve had expected he would, Luck curved his arm behind his back and shifted his grip to lead her. The forest shadows swallowed them up, the ground spongy beneath the faintly marked earth, the smell of pine resin heavy in the air.
Out of sight of their picnic site, a fallen timber blocked the trail, its huge trunk denoting the forest giant it had once been. Luck released her hand to climb over it and waited on the other side to help her. The rubber sole of her shoe found a foothold on the broken nub of a limb, providing her a step to the top of the trunk. All around them was dense foliage, with only a vague glitter of the lake’s surface shining through the leaves.
“I’m glad this is a small island,” Eve remarked. “A person could get lost in this.”
“It’s practically a jungle,” Luck agreed.
His hands gripped the curves of her waist, spanning her hipbones to help her down. Eve steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders while he lifted her off the trunk to the ground. When it was solidly beneath her, she discovered the toes of her shoes were touching his, a hand’s length separating them.
&n
bsp; Beneath her hands she felt his flexed muscles go taut, his hands retaining their hold on her waist. Looking up, Eve saw his keen gaze going over every facet of her appearance. She became conscious of the lack of lipstick and the wind-ratted hair. It caused a tension that forced her to speak so it would be broken.
“I should have brought a comb. My hair is a mess,” she remarked tightly.
Luck’s gaze wandered slowly over it and back to her face, the color of his eyes changing, deepening. “It looks like a man mussed it while he was making love to you.”
His hand reached to smooth the hair away from her face and cup the back of her head. The idle caress parted Eve’s lips in a silent breath, fastening his attention on them. While his mouth began moving inexorably closer, his other hand shifted to her lower spine and applied pressure to gather her in.
The tension flowed out of her with a piercing sweetness as his mouth finally reached its destination. It rocked slowly over her lips, tasting and testing first this curve, then another. The trip-hammer beat of her heart revealed the havoc he was raising with her senses.
This intimate investigation didn’t stop there. His hard warm lips continued their foray, grazing over her cheek to the sensitive area around her ear. Growing weaker, her hands inched to his shoulders, clinging to him for support and balance in this dizzying embrace.
“Do you have any idea how good this feels, Eve?” he murmured in a rough disturbed tone.
She felt the shuddering breath he took and moaned softly in an aching reply. It turned his head, bringing it to a different angle as he took firm possession of her lips, the territory already familiar to him from the last exploration. Now Luck staked his claim to it and made a driving search into the dark recesses of her mouth.
Eve curved her arms around his neck, seeking the springing thickness of his hair. His hands began roaming restlessly over her shoulders and back, left bare by the red halter top she wore. The softness of her curves were pressed and shaped to his hard bone and taut muscle. The kiss deepened until Eve was raw with the hot ache that burned within her.
Gradually she felt the passion withdrawing from his kiss. It ended before his mouth reluctantly ended the contact. Breathless and dazed, she slowly lowered her chin until it was level. She was conscious that Luck was flying to force his lungs to breathe normally. She tried to get a hold of her own emotions, but without his success. His head continued to be bent toward her, his chin and mouth at a level with her eyes.
“We’ll never find Toby this way,” he said finally.
“No, we won’t,” Eve agreed, and self-consciously brought her hands down from around his neck.
He loosened his hold, stepping back to create room between them. She slid a glance at him, trying to obtain a clue as to how she was expected to treat this kiss. Luck was half-turned, looking down the trail. Something was troubling his expression, but it smoothed into a smile when he glanced at her. Yet Eve was conscious that a faint puzzled light shaded his eyes.
“Toby can’t be far. The island is too small,” he said, and reached for her hand again before starting up the trail.
Twenty yards farther, they reached the opposite shore of the island and found Toby sitting on a waterlogged stump at the lake’s edge. He hopped down when he saw them.
“Are we ready to go?” he asked with an unconcern that didn’t match the bright curiosity of his eyes.
“If you are,” Luck replied.
Toby’s presence brought back the easygoing friendly atmosphere that had marked the beginning of the excursion. Not once did Eve feel uncomfortable, yet an uncertainty stayed with her. She couldn’t tell whether Luck regarded her as a woman or a friend.
He beached the boat on the shore in front of her parents’ cottage and gave her a hand to dry land. There was nothing in his manner to indicate he would accept an invitation to come to the house for a drink, so Eve didn’t issue one.
“I enjoyed myself,” she said instead. “Thanks for asking me to come along.”
“It was our pleasure. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.” It was a noncommittal reply, indefinite, promising nothing.
Eve tried not to let her disappointment show as she clutched the picnic basket and the blouse she hadn’t worn. After waving goodbye to Toby aboard the boat, she struck out for the road and the log cottage opposite it.
SINCE HE’D LEFT EVE, the frown around his forehead and eyes had deepened.
As he walked the path from the lake to his house, Luck tried to recall the last time he’d felt as alive as he had those few brief moments when he’d held Eve and kissed her. The deadness inside him had gone. He worried at it, searching for it in some hidden corner, barely conscious of Toby ambling along behind him.
“Dad?” Toby requested his attention and received an abstract glance.
“Why do people kiss?”
That brought Luck sharply out of his reverie. He shortened his strides to let Toby catch up with him and raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Because they like each other.” He gave a general answer.
Toby turned his head to eye him thoughtfully. “Have you ever kissed anybody you didn’t like?”
Luck knew it was a loaded question, but he answered it anyway. “No.”
“If you only kiss people you like, then you must like Eve,” Toby concluded. The sharply questioning look couldn’t be ignored, and the boy admitted, “I saw you and Eve. I was coming back to see if you were ready to leave, but you were so busy kissing her that you didn’t hear me.”
“No, I didn’t hear you,” Luck admitted grimly. The hot rush of emotion had deafened him to everything but the soft sounds of submission she made. He was bothered by a vague sense of infidelity. “And, yes, I like Eve.”
“Why don’t you marry her?”
“Liking isn’t loving.” Luck cast an irritated glance at his son. “And I thought it was understood that that subject was closed.”
There was a long sigh from Toby but no comment.
LATER THAT NIGHT Toby was sprawled on the floor of the living room, arms crossed on a throw pillow, his chin resting in the hollow of his fists while he watched television. At a commercial, he turned to glance at his father in the easy chair — only he wasn’t there.
Frowning, Toby pushed up on his hands to peer into the kitchen, but there was no sign of him. His father hadn’t been acting right since the boat ride. That fact prompted Toby to go in search of him.
He found him in a darkened bedroom. The hallway light spilled in to show him sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on clasped hands. Toby paused in the doorway for a minute, confused until he saw that his father was staring at the framed photograph of his mother on the dresser.
Toby walked up to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, dad?”
Bringing his hands down, Luck turned his head, paused, then sighed heavily. A smile broke half-heartedly. “Nothing, sport.”
But Toby glanced at the picture. “Were you thinking about mom?”
There was a wry twist to his father’s mouth. “No, I wasn’t.” Pushing to his feet, he rested a hand on Toby’s shoulder. Together they left the room. As they walked out the door, Toby stole a glance over his shoulder at the picture of the smiling tawny-haired blonde. He slipped his small-hand into his father’s, but he knew it was small comfort.
THE NEXT DAY Toby’s stomach insisted it was lunchtime. Entering the house through the back door, he walked into the kitchen. His arrival coincided with his father saying a final goodbye to an unknown party on the telephone extension in the kitchen.
“I’ll tell him. Right…I’ll be there,” Luck said, and hung up.
His curiosity overflowed, as it usually did. “Who was that? Tell me what? Where will you be?” The questions tumbled out with barely a breath in between.
“Your granddad said hello,” Luck replied, answering two questions,
“Why didn’t you let me talk to him?” Toby frowned in disappointment.
; “Because he was busy. Next time, okay?” his father promised, and glanced at the wall clock. “I suppose you want lunch. What will it be? Hamburgers? Grilled cheese? How about some soup? “
“Hamburgers,” Toby chose without a great deal of interest or enthusiasm. Hooking an arm around a chair back, he watched his father take the meat from the refrigerator and carry it to the stove, where he shaped portions into patties to put in the skillet. “You said you’d be there. Be where? When?”
“I have to drive to Duluth this Friday to meet with your grandfather,” Luck replied, and half turned to instruct, “Put the ketchup and mustard on the table.”
“I suppose you’re going to ask Mrs. Jackson to come over to stay with me,” Toby grumbled as he went about setting the table and putting on the condiments.
“You are absolutely right. I’m calling her after lunch.”
“Oh, dad, do you have to?” Toby appealed to him. “Sometimes Mrs. Jackson is a real pain.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that Mrs. Jackson might think you are a real pain?” his father countered.
“She always thinks I’m making up stories.”
“I wonder why?” Luck murmured dryly.
Toby let the silverware clatter to the table as a thought occurred to hm. “Why couldn’t you ask Eve to come over? If I have to have somebody sit with me, I’d rather it was Eve.”
Luck hesitated, and Toby studied that momentary indecision with interest. “I’ll ask her,” his father finally agreed.
“You’ll call her after lunch?” Toby persisted for a more definite agreement.
“Yes.”
EVE WAS HALFWAY OUT THE DOOR with her arms full of suntan lotion, blanket and a paperback for an afternoon in the sun when the telephone rang. She ended up dropping everything but the lotion onto couch cushions before she got the receiver to her ear.
“Rowlands,” she answered.
“Hello, Eve?” Luck’s voice responded on the other end of the line.
She tossed the suntan lotion on top of the blanket and hugged her free arm around her middle, holding tight to the pleasure of his voice. “Yes, this is Eve.”
