Sharing Spaces

by Nadia Nichols

  She drew a sharp breath as she thought about the potential buyer Tim had found for the lodge, and realized that she couldn’t possibly initiate such a conversation at this time. That information could wait until later. A few hours wouldn’t make any difference. Besides, she knew how he’d feel about it. It was her own feelings that were confusing her. She pushed out of her chair. “Right now the most important thing is making sure our meals are palatable to the guests. I’ll get Gordina and we’ll plan a menu that even a new hire at McDonald’s could handle.”

  Jack rose to his feet before she could leave the room. “The real reason I left here today was to try and get in touch with Goody Stewart, but I couldn’t. I left a message with the friend she was supposedly staying with in Black Tickle. I told her what we were doing, that Wavey and Gordina might not work out, and that we were desperate for her help.”

  Senna nodded. “It was worth a try. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe she’ll come.”

  “I took Charlie along so he could visit his relatives and ask if anyone wanted a seasonal job. It was a just a thought. They spend their summers at fish camp. Maybe one of the women would want to cook or clean, make some money, and we need another guide or two….”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky there, as well.”

  “It was just a thought,” he repeated.

  Senna looked at him, feeling a warmth from deep within that turned the quick, nervous flutter in her stomach into something much more. “It was a good thought,” she said.

  “I’ll take Wavey back to Goose Bay on my next trip,” he said. “She’s not helping that much.”

  “She does enough so that if we didn’t have her, we might be in even worse shape,” Senna admitted. “Until we can find someone to replace her, I think it’s best if she stays. And I’m sorry I questioned your integrity earlier. It’s just that…well, she’s so beautiful, and the way she hovers around you, I was just—”

  “I know. You were just jealous.” Before she could respond he picked up his bowl, took hers out of her hand and started for the kitchen. “I’ll get Gordina.”

  Senna watched him leave and sat back down. Damn the man for being so arrogant and grinning at her that way, as if he read her very thoughts. Yes, she was jealous. The realization made her mad. She had no right to be jealous. John Hanson was his own man. And besides, she would be leaving here soon. She should be thrilled at the thought, yet she hadn’t been able to tell Jack that Tim had found a potential buyer. Senna looked around the room, picturing a fire in the fireplace, the table crowded with guests who were laughing, talking, enjoying the meal and each other’s company. She thought of the charming guest rooms, with all the little unexpected luxuries awaiting them.

  She imagined the long, lovely days the guests would spend here, fishing with Jack or just sitting out on the porch and absorbing the peace of the surroundings, letting all of life’s stresses vanish from their fast-paced lives while reconnecting to the sun and the moon, the wind and the stars, and the timeless life-giving force of the river; rising to the spiritual awakening of a pristine dawn and retiring to the breathtaking beauty of an arctic twilight. She’d miss all of that when she went back to Maine. Oh, in a smaller way some of those same things happened there, but this was a place where the wolves and caribou still roamed a vast and roadless wilderness….

  Senna shook herself out of her reverie as Jack reappeared, Gordina in reluctant tow. The older woman sat stiffly at the table, bony face rigid, refusing to look in Senna’s direction. Jack handed Senna an orange and dropped into a chair, kicking back and balancing on the rear legs.

  “So, Gordina,” he said, beginning to peel his own orange. “Aside from runny omelets, what exactly is your house specialty?”

  JACK COULDN’T SLEEP. The moon made the night so bright he thought he might as well just get up and split wood. What the hell. Physical labor sure beat lying in a narrow bunk fantasizing about how Senna was going to change her mind about selling her half of the business. He got up, paced to the door, and opened it to the rush of cool air and the sound of the Wolf River. If he were a smoker, he’d light up a cigarette right about now and contemplate becoming a monk or a drunk. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was bewitching him, driving him nuts, and the thought of her leaving in a few days was making him even crazier. Four more days and she’d be gone. Four more days…

  He should be sleeping. It was 2:00 a.m. and in a few hours he was supposed to fly into Goose Bay to pick up another load of provisions. He hadn’t slept the night before, and he wouldn’t sleep for the rest of his life, the way he was feeling tonight. Damn the woman for tormenting him, and damn the admiral for leaving his half of the business to her, and damn his commanding officer for creating her in the first place!

  Jack pulled on his jeans and stuffed his feet into his boots. Senna wouldn’t hear his labors, tucked away in her room at the lodge and no doubt sleeping the peaceful sleep of the untormented. He’d split wood until he was exhausted, then he’d jump in the river. It was a good plan. A productive plan. After breakfast, he’d fire up the old Pratt and Whitney and fly into Goose Bay to flesh out their grocery list. Maybe he’d just keep on flying. Maybe if he flew far enough he could get Senna McCallum out of his blood.

  But somehow Jack knew that no matter how far he flew, he couldn’t escape her. In ten days Senna had somehow insinuated herself into his soul, become the reason why his heart beat and he drew breath. In spite of his resolve to steer clear of emotional entanglements, she had become part and parcel of his past and future.

  Jack buttoned his flannel shirt, pulled on his jacket and stepped out into the twilight. He wrenched the splitting maul out of a stump beside the door and reached for the first piece of firewood. He liked splitting wood. There was a satisfying feel to the heft of the maul, the swift smooth arc through the air, the solid strike into the end grain of the log, and the resulting explosion of one piece into two. He liked the tangy smell of the spruce, the earthy ferment of the woods around him, and the wild restless churn of the river below.

  Half an hour later sweat was running down his forehead, trickling between his shoulder blades in spite of the cold night air. He stripped out of his jacket and was lifting another piece of wood when a pale flash of movement caught his eye. He straightened, letting the handle of the maul slide through his fingers. Wavey materialized at the edge of the clearing. She was in her nightgown, barefoot, with a sweater drawn over her shoulders. Warning bells rang in his head as she moved closer. “I heard you out here,” she said.

  “Go back to bed, Wavey. It’ll be light in an hour.” He spoke gruffly, angry at her intrusion.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said, stepping even closer, invading his space. “I was lying in the darkness thinking about you, Jack.” Wavey’s hands were holding the cardigan together at her neck, but as she spoke she let the sweater fall open and ran her hands down over the swell of her breasts. The nightgown she wore was a thin, flimsy thing that did little to hide any part of her. “Thinking about you, and wishing you were lying beside me,” she continued in a breathless voice.

  “I told you before, I’m not interested in what you’re offering. Go on. I’m busy here.”

  But instead of retreating to her cabin she advanced again, and Jack took another step backward, tripping over a piece of wood. He lost his balance, falling onto the woodpile with an angry bellow. He was struggling to his feet when Wavey fell on top of him, planting her mouth on his and writhing against him like a wild cat, trying to unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants at the same time. Her hands were everywhere all at once. “I want you so much, Jack!” she cried out when he pushed her off him. “I love you and I could make you happy, I know I could. Let me prove it to you…!” She was still pleading with him when he set her on her feet and shoved her in the direction of her cabin.

  “Go,” he said harshly, pointing his arm. “Go!”

  She spun and ran through the woods, weeping like a child. He sat down onto the chopping block
and dropped his head into his hands with a heartfelt moan. There were no gods in the heavens. If there were, surely Senna would have been the one drawn by the sound of him splitting wood, and one thing was certain and scared the hell out of him.

  He never would have sent her away.

  SENNA WAS DRINKING HER FIRST cup of coffee on the porch when she saw Jack coming up the path from his cabin. His hair was plastered to his head and his face was freshly shaven. He was dressed in clean chinos and a hunter-green flannel shirt. “I’m going into Goose Bay after breakfast to pick up another load of provisions,” he said, climbing the steps and pausing beside her. “Do you need anything?”

  “Several dozen cases of frozen dinners might be a wise investment,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to work in the kitchen with Gordina today, whether she likes it or not. Tonight we’ll serve a meal similar to the ones she’ll be preparing for our guests. I think if you bring back everything on that list, we’ll be fine.”

  “Good.” He nodded, then started toward the kitchen.

  “There is one other thing you could get,” she added.

  He paused, ran his fingers through his wet hair. “What’s that?”

  “Some petunias. I think a planter on either side of the base of the porch steps would look pretty. Maybe white, pink and purple, with a little lobelia trailing down. Try to find a purple that’s fragrant. Some of them smell very sweet.”

  “Petunias?” Clearly he didn’t think much of that idea.

  “Oh, and one more thing. A good bottle of champagne. I think a pre-grand-opening celebration is in order before I leave. We’ve worked hard. A little treat would be nice.”

  He appeared startled by her request. “What kind of champagne?”

  Senna smiled up at him over the rim of her mug. “Tell you what, I’ll give you the money, you surprise me.”

  “Okay.” He was studying her as if she were an extraterrestrial newly arrived from another planet.

  “Why are you staring at me that way?”

  “Just wondering how you always manage to look so beautiful first thing in the morning, and why you’re being so friendly.”

  “It helps one’s physical and emotional state to get a good night’s sleep,” Senna said. “People who split wood in the middle of the night can’t expect to feel all that chipper in the morning.”

  His expression instantly changed to one of wary caution. “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “Oh, you didn’t. The moon was so bright and the night was so beautiful that I decided to go for a little walk. I heard you splitting wood, so I thought I’d stop by your cabin and say hello.” Senna raised her mug and took a sip, noting that Jack’s expression had definitely gotten stonier. She grinned at him. “I guess Wavey couldn’t sleep last night, either.”

  “You spied on me?”

  “I was just wondering why you were splitting wood at two in the morning.”

  “No doubt you got quite an eyeful,” he said, running his fingers through his hair again, leaving it tousled in damp disarray. “I hope you’re satisfied.” He turned and strode down the porch, the kitchen door banging shut behind him.

  Senna hadn’t meant to anger him, and spying on him had certainly not been the reason she’d walked to his cabin last night, but she wasn’t the least bit sorry that she’d seen the interaction between the two. Jack’s behavior toward Wavey had erased all suspicions that there was anything between them.

  Senna watched the fog rise from the river. The morning was gray and quiet, still too early to know if it would be sunny or overcast. She was contemplating the odds when she heard the kitchen door bang again and Jack reemerged, striding back down the porch with an insulated travel mug in one hand. He passed her without so much as a look, started down the steps, and began descending the steep ramp.

  Senna scrambled to her feet and started after him, tripping at the top of the ramp and spilling most of her coffee. She set the cup down and caught up with him as he was beginning his preflight check of the plane. “Jack, honestly, I wasn’t spying on you. I didn’t know Wavey would be there.”

  “Forget it.” He was wiggling the rudder, the flaps, and checking some fluid in the engine itself. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Senna said, frustrated that he wouldn’t acknowledge her. Her fists clenched at her sides. “Okay, that’s not true. I’m not sorry. I’m glad I saw you send Wavey off that way. It made me feel a whole lot better.”

  He untied the tethers, stepped up onto the pontoon and opened the side door, giving her the briefest of over-the-shoulder glances. “Good,” he said. “As long as you feel a whole lot better, that’s all that counts.”

  Senna reached in her pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled Canadian bills, extending them toward him. “For the petunias and the champagne,” she said. “The rest of it you can put on our charge account.”

  He ignored the offering, climbed into the plane and slammed the door behind him. Moments later she heard him holler, “Clear!” just before turning the engine over. The prop whirled to life as the engine uttered its throaty rumble. Senna took a few steps back as the prop wash pushed against her and the plane began its downriver taxi. She stood there until it disappeared around the corner and the loud take-off roar faded as the plane climbed into the air and drew away.

  Senna shoved the money back into her pocket and sighed, hoping that by the time he returned he’d be over his big mad. She picked her way along the riverbank for a while, enjoying the solitude and reluctant to return to the lodge, where the sour-faced Gordina held dubious rule over a kingdom she should be expelled from, and the sensual Wavey would appear for another day of daydreaming when she was supposed to be working. A few moments of exploring wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She could make up the lost work on the other end of the day.

  The edge of the river was hard to follow, choked with the debris of previous high-water floods, but now and then a clear sandy stretch would beckon. Senna made a mental note that Charlie would have to clean up the riverbank on both sides of the lodge to allow guests to fish the deep pools from shore. It would be a good chore for him, one he’d enjoy since he could simply toss all the driftwood back into the river. Then maybe he could trim back some of this brush to establish a walking path and…

  Senna stopped abruptly, studying the damp sand at her feet. “My goodness,” she breathed. She was looking at a track, a very large canid track, at least seven inches long and four inches wide.

  Wolf!

  She stepped carefully to avoid marring the perfect imprint and looked for the next one. Easy enough to find. She followed the set of tracks up the shoreline until they veered into the brush, and then she followed them by sheer perseverance and intuition, finding a single paw print here in the mud, another partial track farther along, an indentation in the lichens, a broken patch of fern. The riverbank climbed and flattened out and she found herself on an established game path, winding through the thick forest of black spruce. She picked up her pace, traveling head-down, intent on finding the next clue, wondering if she’d be lucky enough to catch sight of the wary and magnificent creature. She wondered if it was Raven, the black female her grandfather had written of in his journal.

  The path eventually dipped down into a wet, boggy area, soft and spongy with moss. She picked her way carefully, aware that soon she should be heading back. There was lots to do, and someone had to keep an eye on the two employees, else they’d spend the morning drinking coffee and gabbing. But just now, with the woods full of birdsong and redolent of clean, earthy smells, this was the place she’d much rather be. As soon as the sun broke through the morning fog, she’d get back to the lodge. She spied another imprint in the moss and felt a gathering thrill. She wished she’d brought her camera along, but then again this had been a spur-of-the-moment adventure.

  The bog she was traveling through climbed onto a low esker and she paused for a breather, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar landmark. She could no longer hear th
e river, just the increasing whine of mosquitoes, and she had no insect repellent. With a sigh she realized it was time to go back. Just as she started through the bog again, carefully retracing her steps, it began to rain. The rain was cold and steady, but it drove away the mosquitoes, which was a relief. She hurried along, pushing through low undergrowth, swatting at bugs and wishing she’d worn a hat. The going became more difficult and several times she floundered in water up to her knees. She didn’t remember the path being this rough or wet on the way through. Could she have somehow veered onto the wrong track?

  Senna stopped, listening for the river, but all she could hear was the sound of the rain and the few persistent mosquitoes that pursued her. She realized that without the sun to take her bearings by, she had no idea what direction she was traveling in. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no need to panic. It was broad daylight, and would be for many hours yet. In fact, this time of year in Labrador it never got truly dark. All she had to do was find her own footprints and follow them back to the river. She turned around and began to retrace her steps, trying to find where she’d lost the trail.

  JACK STOPPED BRIEFLY at the lake house to pick up another of the admiral’s books for Charlie to read and while he was there he searched through his room for a set of clothes worthy of sharing a bottle of champagne with a beautiful woman. He’d been too long without the need for anything fancier than blue jeans and work boots, and the one dress shirt he came up with had threadbare cuffs and wouldn’t pass muster. In the bottom drawer of his bureau he kept a sock stuffed with an odd assortment of change, and he took the whole sock. Whatever was in it was going to serve as the champagne fund. He hoped it would amount to enough for a fairly decent bottle, with enough left over for some petunias and a respectable dress shirt.

  But the champagne was paramount, although Senna probably wouldn’t share it with him after his surly departure. The very idea that she’d witnessed Wavey’s behavior the night before caused his stomach to churn. By the time he’d flown thirty minutes away from her, he realized that the reason he’d been so upset was that he realized if Wavey hadn’t shown up at his cabin, Senna would have. It would have been Senna who came into the clearing to see why he was splitting wood at 2:00 a.m. Damn that Wavey! He should have packed her out of there this morning and dropped her back at Goody’s house.