She peered around Graham’s shoulder, admiring the enormous pine logs, the gazebo’s bright green pitched steel roof and the way it was nestled into the thick forest like some fairy-tale castle. When they finally reached the steps, Graham closed the shotgun and propped it against the side of the gazebo. Courtney skirted him and walked up the steps alone.
Then she simply stood there, taking it all in.
The entire structure was pine. The wood had been coated with so many layers of polyurethane the interior shone like a newly sealed gym floor.
One continuous bench ran along the gazebo’s circular walls providing enough sitting space for the town of Port Protection. There were also two long picnic tables made out of the same polished pine, one sitting to the left, and one sitting to the right.
At the center a large stone fire pit sat directly beneath the steepest pitch of the steel roof. And facing that fire pit was a giant porch-style swing fastened to the overhead rafters.
Courtney immediately wondered what it would be like to make love to Graham lying in that swing in front of a cozy fire. She quickly pushed those thoughts aside when Graham walked up beside her.
“I can see why this place is special,” Courtney told him. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And I doubt I ever will again.”
He only shrugged.
But Courtney could tell he was pleased.
“Let’s take off our life vests and get comfortable,” he said.
He walked across the gazebo and bent to slide open a hidden storage compartment. When he stood, he pointed to the nearest picnic table and walked toward it with a plastic tablecloth in his hand.
“I keep a lot of supplies here,” he said when Courtney walked over with the cooler. “Tablecloths, plastic plates and utensils, bottled water, a few pots and pans. There are also some blankets and matches for the fire pit. Things like that.”
“You aren’t afraid someone will steal your stuff?”
“No. People live by the honor system here. Whatever you use, you always put back on your next trip.”
“The honor system,” Courtney said. “Not a philosophy we practice in New York City.”
He ignored her comment and said, “I also keep a woodshed out back.”
He pointed to the right side of the gazebo. Courtney walked over and leaned out. As she expected, the shed was fully stocked.
“The other local fishing guides help me keep up the wood supply,” he said. “Everyone contributes and pitches in.”
“Is that why you made the gazebo so large?” Courtney asked as she approached the table to help Graham spread out the tablecloth. “Because everyone uses it?”
Graham nodded. “We’ve had as many as forty people stop here for lunch at the same time. The clients always get a big kick out of cooking their catch over the open fire pit.”
“And the swing? Did you build it for Rachel?”
“Yes.” He busied himself emptying the cooler rather than make eye contact with her when he added, “When I was a kid my grandfather built a swing like that for me behind the lodge one summer. The swing’s been gone for years, but I never forgot it. I decided it was time for a new one.”
“I think that’s a wonderful tribute to your grandfather, Graham.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
She could tell he was embarrassed over sharing that piece of information.
And that’s what she couldn’t figure out about Graham. Why did he have such a hard time showing his emotions? She knew he felt deeply about life—his journal entries were proof of that. That’s the man she had come to Alaska to meet. The type of man who could marvel at how remarkable God’s gifts to man truly were. A man who took pleasure in sipping his morning coffee and watching the early-morning fog roll across the cove.
Where the hell was that man?
“Are you okay?”
Courtney looked up to find Graham staring at her.
“Yes. Why?”
“You’re frowning.”
“I have a bit of a headache,” Courtney lied. “I always get a headache when I go too long without eating.”
“Then let’s take care of that,” he said.
He reached into the picnic basket and handed her a sandwich. Courtney placed the sandwich on the table with the rest of their lunch—cheese and crackers, and apple slices.
Graham uncorked the wine and filled both of the plastic cups she had placed on the table. They sat on opposite sides of the picnic table, facing each other.
Courtney smiled and held her cup out for a toast.
Graham touched his cup to hers.
And that’s when the downpour started.
“Good thing you suggested coming to the gazebo for lunch,” Courtney mentioned.
“Yeah,” he said. “Getting caught in the rain on the water is miserable.”
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS when you don’t stick to plans, Graham thought, looking over his shoulder and scowling at the rain. Had he stuck to his original plan, they wouldn’t have been this far away from the lodge.
He’d only planned to take Courtney on a short tour along the shoreline immediately around Port Protection and be done with it. But she’d been so thrilled by everything she saw, he’d gone farther east toward Whale Pass hoping Courtney would get a glimpse of what most tourists came to Alaska to see.
By then they’d only been a short distance away from the gazebo. And like an idiot, he couldn’t resist showing off. He was no better than some teenage boy trying to impress his first crush.
It had been a dumb thing to do.
Now they would have to wait out the rain. In the gazebo. Alone. With thoughts he shouldn’t be having, running through his head.
“Tell me about your grandfather,” Courtney said, letting Graham know the only thing on her mind was conversation.
But Graham didn’t want to talk about his grandfather. His grandfather had been dead almost twenty years, yet Graham still missed him every day. He usually got all choked up when he talked about him—the way he had a few minutes ago talking about the swing. It made him look like a blubbering fool—it was embarrassing.
Graham finally said, “Jonah Morrison was the finest man I’ve ever known. He meant a lot to me. And he knew how much I loved it here. That’s why he left me the lodge when he died.”
“And your grandmother Morrison?”
“She died before I was born,” Graham said.
“My father died before I was born,” she said. “But you probably already know that. My mother’s scandalous past will follow her to the grave.”
“I’m sure that’s been hard for you,” Graham said. “Never knowing your father.”
“Somewhat.” She smiled. “But not as hard as being left alone to deal with my mother.”
“And your mother’s the person in your life you’ve been trying to please?”
“Until now.”
“I think most people grow up trying to please their parents,” Graham said. “I know I did. Leave it to my kid to be the defiant one.”
“Be honest. Aren’t you secretly pleased Rachel has the guts to stand up for herself?”
“Of course I am,” Graham said. “It tells me I’m doing my job. I’ll let Rachel go when she’s old enough to make her own decisions. But until that time comes, I’m afraid she’s stuck with me.”
“Rachel’s lucky to be stuck with you,” she said. “And when she gets older, she’ll realize that.”
Her comment should have pleased Graham. It only embarrassed him again.
Why was it so hard to take a compliment from her? Was it Courtney’s sincerity? That hint of admiration in her eyes? Or was it the fact that Graham knew he was a far cry from the hero Courtney had fabricated in her mind?
“Speaking of Rachel,” Graham said, “I’d better let her know we’re waiting out the rain. If I don’t, she’ll have the whole town out looking for us when we’re late getting back.”
He took the opportunity to leave the table and walk to the front of
the gazebo. He unclipped the radio on his belt, punched the button and said, “Graham Morrison here. Comeback?”
“I copy you, Graham,” a voice replied.
“I’m waiting out the rain at the gazebo near Whale’s Pass. Can you call my daughter at the lodge and pass along the info?”
“Consider it done.”
Graham clipped the radio back to his belt. When he turned around, Courtney was standing right behind him.
“Can we build a fire in the fire pit while we wait?”
The sight of her chattering teeth made Graham wince.
“God, Courtney, I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were freezing. Of course we can build a fire. Let me get you some blankets.”
She didn’t object to that suggestion. Nor did she object when Graham told her to sit on the swing so she’d be closer to the fire. Within minutes after he handed over two blankets, Courtney was curled up in one corner of the swing and wrapped up in her blankets so tight, all Graham could see were two blue eyes peeking out at him.
She didn’t emerge from beneath those blankets until he had a roaring fire going. By that point, Graham was relieved to see a little color coming back into her cheeks.
“Much better,” she said, leaning closer to the blaze with her hands stretched out to soak up the warmth.
Graham was about to agree with her when the afternoon shower turned into a torrential assault so heavy the rain pounding against the steel roof was almost deafening. He cursed, jumped up from tending the fire and hurried to the front of the gazebo.
Another stupid blunder awaited him.
He’d been so eager for Courtney to see the gazebo, he hadn’t taken time to secure the skiff to one of the five pilings he’d driven into the sand for that very purpose. The rough waves pounding against the skiff dislodged it from the sand and set the boat adrift.
“What’s wrong?” Courtney called out.
Graham didn’t wait to answer.
He had to act fast.
Jerking the radio from his belt, Graham tossed it on the floor. And taking a deep breath to brace himself, he ran down the steps and into the cold, driving rain.
COURTNEY JUMPED UP from the swing and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she hurried after Graham. It wasn’t until she reached the front of the gazebo that she realized what was wrong.
Graham was in the water up to his waist, struggling to pull the skiff back to shore. Courtney was one second away from going to help him when he finally secured the rope over the piling. By the time Graham ran back up the steps and under the shelter of the gazebo, Courtney had the blanket off her shoulders, holding it out for him to dry off.
He wiped his face and shook the water from his hair before he bent down to take off his wading boots one at a time. Water splashed everywhere.
“You have to get out of those wet clothes, Graham,” Courtney told him when he straightened.
“I’m fine,” he argued.
“You are not fine,” Courtney retorted. “What you are is one heartbeat away from hypothermia.”
Courtney turned her back. “See? I’m giving you your privacy. And don’t worry. I promise I can control myself.”
His voice was low and husky when he said, “Maybe you’re not the one I’m worried about.”
Courtney turned.
And hypothermia was the last thing on Courtney’s mind.
They came together like an explosion, the kiss representing every ounce of pent-up passion they’d both been trying to suppress for the past forty-eight hours. Courtney was so turned on she could hear her own heart beating above the pounding rain on the steel roof overhead.
But as quickly as the kiss happened, it ended.
“This is a mistake,” Graham said, pushing her away.
Spitting on her would have been more humane.
He stepped around her and headed for the fire pit. But Courtney remained where she was, too stunned to move. What had happened? How could he shut off like a switch? When she finally turned around, he was wringing the water from his shirt and his undershirt.
He placed his clothes on the rocks of the fire pit to dry, sat on the swing and put the blanket around his bare shoulders. When he looked up and saw her staring at him, Graham patted the place beside him on the swing.
As if!
Courtney was done. His tongue down her throat one minute. Calling her a mistake the next. Dammit! She had a little pride left.
“You think you have a clear picture of who I am,” he said when Courtney made no move to join him. “That I’m the doting father and the grieving husband so devastated by his wife’s death he was determined to keep his young daughter safe by moving to Alaska.”
Courtney swallowed. The description was accurate.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “I was a rotten father and a lousy husband. So lousy I didn’t even have the decency to care that my wife had been having an affair for over a year before she asked for a divorce.”
Courtney closed her eyes. “Just stop, okay? I don’t need to hear this.”
“No!” Graham shouted, causing Courtney to jump. “You do need to hear this. You need to know the man you came to meet never existed.”
He stood, his expression somewhere between angry and contrite. “The night Julia was killed, we fought. It was after midnight before I got home, and she was waiting for me. She told me about her affair and asked for a divorce. And to tell you the truth,” he said, “I was relieved.”
He sank onto the swing as though deflating. “Julia and I had been making each other miserable for years. A divorce would have been the best thing for both of us. But what made me furious was Julia saying she was giving me full custody of Rachel.”
Courtney couldn’t hide her shocked expression.
Graham’s tone was cynical when he said, “Not exactly the reaction you’d expect from a doting father, is it?”
Courtney didn’t answer.
“I knew Julia didn’t want children before we got married. We both agreed not to have children. When she accidentally got pregnant, Julia blamed me for the one and only time we didn’t use protection.”
He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “After Rachel was born, Julia’s resentment toward me only got worse. We both stopped trying to make our marriage work, and Rachel got lost somewhere in the middle. Julia wasn’t much of a mother. And I was a poor excuse for a father. But the thought that Julia would turn her back on Rachel as a way to finally punish me pushed me over the edge. I told her to leave. And the last thing I said before she stormed out of our apartment that night was that I never wanted to see her face again.”
Seeing the agony on Graham’s face was more than Courtney could tolerate. She walked over and sat beside him, knowing what was coming next.
He bent forward, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “I never did see Julia’s face again. At least, not alive.”
Courtney reached out and touched his shoulder for support, surprised when he leaned into her.
“The doorman and the two other witnesses on the street that night said it had all happened so fast. The car screeching to a halt. The young punk jumping out of the car, demanding Julia’s purse. Instead of handing over her purse, Julia started screaming and hit him. The kid panicked and shot her in the chest. Julia died before she hit the sidewalk.”
“I’m so sorry, Graham.” What else was there to say?
He looked at her. “So that’s the real me. A man so despicable he’d throw his wife out of their apartment at two o’clock in the morning without any regard for her safety. I live with the knowledge Julia would still be alive today if she hadn’t been so angry with me.”
Courtney started to argue. To remind Graham that sometimes bad things happened to good people for no reason. That in the heat of any argument, people said things and did things they regretted later. But Graham shook his head, stopping her.
“Go home, Courtney,” he said. “What you’re looking for isn’t here.”
; He rose and gathered his clothes.
Courtney noticed for the first time that the rain had stopped. But her feelings for Graham hadn’t stopped at all. If anything, the dragons Graham had to slay only made Courtney care more.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
COURTNEY WASN’T SURE how she’d made it through dinner Sunday night, but she had—for Rachel’s sake. Graham had done the same thing. They’d both put on award-winning performances for Rachel’s benefit.
But Graham had excused himself the minute dinner was over. A new fishing party would be arriving with Gil tomorrow morning when he came to pick up Courtney, bound for Anchorage to catch her flight to New York.
Graham had some things to get ready for his guests, he’d said. And maybe he did. But Courtney suspected Graham was using his guests as a good excuse to avoid any further interaction with her before she left.
And yes, that hurt.
But leaving her alone with Rachel to clean up after dinner was the perfect opportunity to have that heart-to-heart about staying in touch. Courtney didn’t intend to waste the little time she and Rachel had left.
“I want you to still call me. Every night if you want to,” Courtney said as she rinsed a plate and handed it to Rachel to dry.
“Okay,” Rachel said, but with very little enthusiasm.
“And e-mail me, of course.”
Rachel nodded as she placed the plate in the cabinet.
“That’s what good friends do,” Courtney said. “They make it a point to stay in touch.”
Rachel burst into tears.
“Oh, sweetie,” Courtney said, putting both arms around Rachel. “Don’t cry. We’ll still talk to each other. Just like we have been for the past three months. Nothing’s changed.”
Rachel pushed away from her. Courtney tore off a section of paper towel and handed it to her.
“You don’t understand,” Rachel said, dabbing at her eyes. “I’ll never survive another summer here. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. I’ll kill myself first.”
Courtney grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and shook her so fast, it scared both of them. “Don’t you ever say that again. Suicide isn’t something to joke about, Rachel.”
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