He couldn’t help but recognize how vast the gulf between them was. The bear, young from the size of him, had been as cute as a stuffed animal, but she’d gotten hysterical. He would’ve loved to take a picture of it for his website, but it was running too fast.
Running away from the terrifying human.
He turned toward Jane’s profile. From the sound of her breathing, he knew she was asleep. They’d consumed bland noodles out of featherlight bowls, split a Snickers bar, brushed their teeth with bottled water, and returned to the tent.
If she’d been burning up with lust, she’d hidden it well.
He fell asleep thinking about her and woke up thinking about her.
It was still dark, too early to be awake, but he couldn’t push himself back down into sleep. Jane was snoring, her head wedged against his shoulder. He smiled, suppressing the urge to wake her with a kiss or a grope. It was too cold to fool around now, and she needed to sleep. All that screaming probably wore her out.
That was unfair, and he felt guilty for thinking it. Smiling, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her. She smelled like fresh air and toothpaste. Brushing in the dark without a sink or mirror had its disadvantages.
With his head nuzzled against hers, he felt himself falling back into a contented sleep. He was used to being alone. He’d thought he’d preferred it, especially when he was hiking. But now he knew he’d never again wake before dawn in a tent and not miss having Jane at his side, snoring and smelling like Colgate.
A thud just outside the tent snapped him awake. The undeniable sounds of a large animal dragging something around got him out of his sleeping bag and scrambling out of the tent on his hands and knees.
Now that was a bear. Dawn was breaking, illuminating the dark animal huddled over the human’s bag of goodies.
Jane’s backpack.
He’d put their food in a bear-proof canister, but the animal must’ve smelled something in Jane’s bag. The way he was knocking it around showed he thought it was something delectable. Unfortunately, she’d zipped and snapped the bag closed, so the bear was forced to try other methods of releasing his prize. Bears could tear open pickup trucks, so a little fabric, no matter how thick, waterproof, and double stitched, wasn’t going to be an obstacle.
She’d just spent several hundred bucks on that bag, and this was only the second day of use. He jumped out of the tent and did as he’d told Jane—shouted and flapped his arms.
Unfortunately, he jerked his left arm at just the wrong angle, pulling the muscle he’d just injured. His pain gave his next shout a burst of extra enthusiasm and was perhaps higher pitched than his first yell. The bear lumbered back a few steps, but it had already torn open a hole in the side of the bag.
Grant shouted and clapped his hands, sending more stabbing pain up his arm, but the bear was too motivated now to stop. After scooping out clothes and other inedible gear, it grabbed the pack with both paws, pushed its snout deeper, and then came out with a rectangular green package in its mouth.
Having claimed the prize, the bear turned and sauntered off into the trees, his rounded hindquarters rolling from side to side like an old man on a Sunday stroll, with all the time in the world.
It all happened so fast, by the time Jane climbed out of the tent, the bear was gone.
“What’s the matter? What’s going on?” She got to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest, shivering in the frigid mountain air. “Are you all right?”
“Another bear,” he said. “It got into your pack.”
“You screamed,” she said.
“I shouted to scare it away, or I tried to.”
“That wasn’t a shout. That was definitely a scream. You got mad at me yesterday when I made a noise like that.”
“I didn’t get mad,” he said. “I was afraid you were hurt.”
The look she gave him was as cold as the Denali summit at midnight in winter.
“If I made a funny sound, it was because I hurt my arm yesterday,” he continued, “and I bumped it when I was trying to rescue your stuff.”
“You never mentioned hurting your arm.”
Oh God. This wasn’t going well. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
She shot him another frosty glance, pushed her feet into flip-flops, and walked over to her mangled pack. Her belongings were scattered all over the ground, and when she picked up the bag, it cracked open like an oyster, with only the interior frame at the back holding it in one piece.
“You left a granola bar in your pack,” he said.
She grimaced. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Black bears can be really aggressive when there’s food around.”
“Good thing you made so much noise then,” she said, “or he might’ve done more damage.”
Something about her tone made him uneasy. She didn’t sound entirely sincere.
“We’ll have to hike out,” he said. “Put the stuff in the Rover, set up at the campground. We can go for day hikes from there.”
“I’d like to go home.”
Part of him would be relieved to go home to where she was comfortable, but he was afraid it might not be so comfortable for him. “Are you sure? It’s downhill to the car, and we’d have energy to find another—”
“I’m sure.” She dropped the carcass of her backpack and began picking up her things, folding them into a neat pile that she placed on top of the torn fabric. “We can have breakfast in Redding. Save you the effort of getting out the camp stove again.”
“I don’t mind getting out the camp stove,” he said. “I can make us coffee.”
“I’ll wait for the good coffee,” she said. “You know me, I like things the way I like them. Kind of a princess, really. But you knew that about me. You had me figured out from the first day.”
Things were turning rapidly from not very good to bad, definitely bad. “I apologized for raising my voice at you yesterday,” he said, hearing too late the defensive tone in his voice.
She picked up a pair of lightweight synthetic pants and a yellow camp shirt and strode off behind the tent to get dressed.
She didn’t want him to see her naked.
He cursed under his breath and considered, for the first time in his life, taking up archery and tracking a bear during hunting season.
How had things gone so wrong? No, he shouldn’t be surprised. Of course they had. He’d known they would. Ignoring his instincts always got him into trouble.
And this trouble wasn’t the kind he could fix at the sporting goods store.
30
They were home before noon.
Jane carried the remains of her backpack into the garage, leaving them in a pile next to the washing machine, and then went to her bathroom.
On the drive home, Grant had made a big deal about how much she’d enjoy taking a shower after her night in the wilderness, but now everything he said sounded patronizing, and she felt no pleasure as she shampooed her hair and cleaned the dirt out from under her fingernails.
Shadow was still at Billie’s, but she’d retrieve her later, maybe tomorrow. She wasn’t up to explaining to her happy little sister why she’d come home so early.
She got dressed for work. It was Thursday, and she’d taken unplanned leave since her lunch with Sydney on Monday. The madness that had swept over her then seemed long ago and far away, and she was eager to return to her office, explain her absence to her clients, and resume her journey up the corporate ladder.
“I’ve got some email I have to deal with,” she told Grant on her way out the door.
Grant hadn’t showered and stood in his doorway in the same T-shirt and cargo pants he’d put on in the tent that morning. “Don’t you think we should—” He scratched his chin. “No. Never mind. We’ll talk later.”
“It’s good we came back, actually. I’ve got a client who really needs to talk to me. And I forgot about a meeting.”
“Sure. Of course.” He shoved his hands in h
is pockets. “I’ll take a look at your pack and see if it can be saved. I know a guy in Berkeley who repairs gear—”
“Don’t bother. I think we both know I’ll never use it again.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words, then waved, nodded, waved again, and hurried out the door.
She went to the BART station, she waited on the platform, she got a train to San Francisco—but she didn’t get off at the Montgomery Street station and go to work. A part of her intended to, the part that was lying to herself, but the rest of her, which included her actual body, stayed in her seat.
When she got to the end of the line, she stepped out on the platform, her mind as empty as it was supposed to be after that yoga class, and lingered there until another train came along. She walked onto it and sat down, and when that train also reached its end of the line, she stood up.
She was at San Francisco International Airport. An urge to take out her credit card and buy a ticket to Maui washed over her. A condo with a view of the beach and the whales. A guava cocktail.
Recently Billie had gone on a vacation to the South Pacific with Ian, and the pictures she’d shared at the time hadn’t tempted Jane at all. But now Jane was struck by a desire to escape so intense that she had to turn away from the sign directing her to the terminal and put her hand over her eyes.
The Pittsburg train on the other side of the platform was about to return to the safe, familiar environs of the East Bay. Nowhere near home but a prudent distance from any flights to Maui.
She was too young for a midlife crisis. This was more like a head cold. In Berkeley, she got off the train, walked to a vegetarian restaurant near the station, and had a huge bowl of sizzling rice soup. Then she had her nails done. And went to the library, picked up books whose covers she didn’t bother to read, and then wandered back out to the street and the stairs down to her train home.
She couldn’t put it off any longer.
The short ride put her to sleep. The shallow, uncomfortable, and interrupted sleep in the tent had caught up to her. Just in time, she heard the call for her station.
She’d made a decision, and it was time to act on it.
Whatever this was between them, she wasn’t ready for it.
It was almost six when she walked in her front door, took off her shoes, and paused. She heard Grant get off his bed and come out of his room to meet her.
“We can’t do this anymore,” she told his chin, not quite able to meet his eyes.
He didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look happy.
“I called you at work,” he said. “You weren’t there.”
“You called my desk?”
“I called Troy.”
That was exactly what she didn’t want happening. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He leaned against the wall. “Why’d you lie to me?”
“I meant to go.” That part of her had anyway.
His gaze dropped over her black trousers and gray twinset. “You left your laptop here.”
“You looked through my things?”
He pushed away from the wall and pointed at the bag resting next to her shoes. Her purple laptop bag.
That’s who she was—a woman who had laptop bags in multiple colors to coordinate with her business outfits.
“Grant, face it. We’re incompatible. It would never last.”
“Does it matter if it lasts?” he asked.
And that was the question she’d been grappling with all night and all day on the train.
The answer was yes. It mattered more with him than it had ever mattered with anyone. If it didn’t last, she’d—
“It matters,” she said. “It’s better for both of us if we end this now before it gets too complicated.”
“Does it seem complicated to you?”
What did he mean by that? That she was making a big deal out of nothing?
Perhaps she was the only one who could get hurt, and he’d never considered his own danger because he wasn’t in any. “Maybe it isn’t complicated. Which is good, because we could never make it last. We both know that. We knew it the second we met.”
“I’m not sure about that.” He took a step forward. “I was glad you ran into me. I thought you were sexy.”
She took a step backward. On the train, she’d prepared a speech, but now she couldn’t recall a single word. “We have chemistry, obviously, which is great”—damn it—“but it’s not enough.”
“I think it could be,” he said. “We should find out.”
Taking another step away from him, pulse racing, she shook her head. “My parents had chemistry. It didn’t work out.”
“The fact that you’re here talking to me says otherwise.”
“They had me, they had Billie, and then they had new families that made them happier.” Her voice was too loud, betraying too much.
“We just started getting to know each other,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to start worrying about divorce?”
His words stung. It didn’t mean as much to him. She straightened, adjusted the bag on her shoulder, and gestured at his room. “If you decide to leave, which you have to agree would be easier for both of us, I’ll refund your rent money.”
“Only if I leave?”
Her face burned. “I’ll refund it right now.”
“Because I earned it, I guess.”
She gritted her teeth. To think she’d been feeling guilty about telling him it was over. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t want to risk any legal trouble. You paid six months in advance. It’s only fair.”
He turned into his room and closed the door. She heard the lock turn.
Seriously? He was just going to walk away without another word?
Before she gave in to the temptation to knock on his door and—what?
There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better. She opened the stained glass door, locked it behind her, and went to her room to open her laptop and send her tenant a full and complete refund.
With interest.
31
Grant took two bags with him and left the rest behind. He couldn’t pack up the TV and all his things quickly enough for his mood. Getting into the Rover and driving away from her and that house was all he cared about.
He drove too fast and got pulled over, which only made him angrier; he was too upset to smile and apologize to the cop, who seemed to enjoy giving him a ticket.
His tent and gear were still in the truck, which was convenient because he planned on using them that night at Point Reyes, about an hour’s drive on the west coast of Marin County. He got as far as the Richmond Bridge, stuck in the tail end of the evening commute, when his mother called.
“He’s asking for you,” she said. “I think you should come.”
“Hold on. I’m in the car. I’ll have to call you back.”
“Talk to me when you get here,” she said. He glanced down and saw she’d hung up.
Swearing to himself, he set aside his phone. The last person he should talk to when he was snarling like a wounded badger was his grandfather. Being polite was difficult enough when he was his usual easygoing, cheerful self.
But his mother had made it sound serious. That last talk with his grandfather had shaken him. Just when they learned how to talk to each other, he could be gone. Much of the conversation had felt like a goodbye, a settling of accounts.
Already on the freeway headed that way, he reached the estate about half an hour after getting her call and went to see her first.
As soon as she opened the door, he asked, “Is he sick? Think he needs to get to the hospital again?”
“He’s fine. Thanks for coming so fast.” She pulled him into a hug and then quickly released him. “You’ve smelled better.”
“Just got back from camping,” he said. “Haven’t had a chance to shower yet.” Of course he could have when Jane went out, but he had a superstition about not showering after a hike until he’d written at least one
complete page in his journal. He’d been in no mental state to do that after Jane had dressed for work and walked out right after they’d come home.
“You can use mine,” she said. “Your grandfather is going to tease you. Although your beard looks nice. Did you trim it recently?”
He had. Since meeting Jane, grooming had become more of a priority. With that sobering thought, he said, “Grandfather will have to take me as I am.”
“He’s waiting for you in the garden under his tree.”
Grant knew which tree she meant. Unless it was pouring, he sat there every day to read the paper. “If he’s not sick, why the hurry?”
“Ask him,” she said.
Irritated with her, Grandfather, the world—and Jane and himself—he left her before he said something rude.
As expected, his grandfather was reading the paper where he always did, in one of the two patio chairs next to a small outdoor dining set. The old oak tree didn’t like flowers planted underneath its wide, gnarled branches, so the only bright color was the blue fabric of the chair cushions.
“That was fast,” Grandfather said.
“I was already on the road,” Grant said. “Headed to the campground.”
“Looks like you slept in the bushes last night already.”
Grant shrugged. “You know me.” He sat on the teak stool he’d brought with him from the patio.
“Not that you make it easy.”
Grant didn’t have the discipline to smile. “My mother says I get it from you.”
Grandfather’s eyebrows shot up, then he laughed. “She’s not bad, your mother. You take care of her when I’m gone, or I’ll come back and haunt you.” He lifted his arms and pretended to float. “Woo, woooooo…”
His mother had said he was fine, but Grant was skeptical. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“I hear from Troy you’ve gotten yourself into a little trouble.”
Three hours ago, Grant had been desperate enough to call Troy and ask if he’d seen Jane. Troy had drawn the obvious conclusion.
Going Wild Page 21
