by Bird, Peggy
“All of this land used to be home to the Mahican, or their real name, the Muheconneok, meaning ‘from the waters that are never still.’ As with much of this country, most of the names that were originally used are still used today. Matt quirked his lips, biting back a full smile. For some reason it irritated her. “What? Is that funny?”
“No, no, I’m just smiling. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes, but are you smiling at me, or are you smiling with me?” Jade stopped walking for a moment and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Matt smiled in return. “I was just thinking how much you sound like a history professor.” He reached over and pulled a leaf from Jade’s hair.
She jerked away and reached her hand back to smooth the hair at the back of her head. “Probably comes from my dad.”
“Doctor Joel Sawyer.” Matt stood staring at her hair.
Jade turned to head back down the trail. “You’ve heard of him?” Jade was thoroughly surprised. Her dad was top in his field, but it was a very obscure and unglamorous area of expertise. Not many people were familiar with it.
“I did some research ahead of time.”
“On Renaissance art?”
“No, the Cartwright treasure.”
Crap! Every time someone brought up the myth of the treasure, it stirred up trouble. People seemed to get a little crazy in the name of striking it rich. It wasn’t just tourists either. The locals were as likely to go hunting for it as anyone else. The tale of the Cartwright treasure was part of the local lore. Many of the families in this area told and retold the story, not only to their offspring, but just as often to the out-of-towners, mostly, over a beer at Fitch’s Tavern. The details changed depending on who told the tale, but the basic framework remained the same.
Almost four hundred years ago, Adam Cartwright left his wealthy family in England to come to America. He became a fur trapper and fell in love with an Indian princess named Alsoomse. He gave the tribe his fortune in jewels and gold as a bride price, but it brought great misfortune to the tribe. This misfortune included the death of Adam Cartwright. His bride was consumed with grief. The tribal council voted to rid themselves of the cursed treasure. They held a purification ceremony and then buried the gold and gems, returning that which came from the earth to the earth. Only one piece of treasure was not buried with the rest: a ring given to Alsoomse by Adam as a wedding gift. She wore it always.
“Don’t tell me you believe in that old tale?” Jade scoffed.
Matt smiled. “It’s a poignant story.”
Jade smacked her hand on her forehead. “Oh no, you’re a romantic!”
One corner of Matt’s world-class smile crept up. “I’m not saying it’s true, but what if I am? Is that really so terrible?”
“Dear God! It’s worse than I thought! You’re a romantic and deluded. You probably dot your ‘i’s with little hearts! You need help.” She was shaking her head with disdain, and it set her hair swinging behind her.
“Hmm, cynical. I smell a past breakup. Something particularly ugly.”
Jade’s spine stiffened. “Butt out.”
“Sorry.” Matt shrugged. “Not trying to be rude.”
“Mmm, then it must come naturally to you. Look, I’m not cynical, just a realist. Stories are just that: fiction, make-believe.”
“Yes, but the really good ones, the ones that stick with us, usually have some ring of truth to them.”
“Like the Cartwright legend?” She was hiking up ahead, keeping space between them and doing her best not to roll her eyes at him.
“Yeah, I think that parts of it are true. I don’t know about the treasure, but I think that there was a man who fell in love with the wrong woman. Two completely different worlds … ”
“Or a woman who fell in love with the wrong man,” Jade interrupted.
Matt stared at her for a moment. “Right, a woman who fell in love with the wrong man, and it ended badly. And the story was told again and again, maybe with certain parts changed, dramatized … ”
“Romanticized,” Jade sneered.
Matt laughed, “God, what did he do to you?”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to glare. Daggers.
Matt raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, romanticized, but for whatever the reason, the story still lives today. I mean, it intrigued your father enough to write about it, and it isn’t even his field.”
“He used to say it made him dare to dream.”
“Sounds like he’s a romantic.”
Jade sighed heavily, lifting the bangs off her forehead. “Both he and my mom.”
“Maybe we were switched at birth. My parents were nothing but practical and perhaps a bit … ”
“Cynical?”
“Aloof.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so concerned. I had a great upbringing. My parents weren’t mean or even indifferent. They cared deeply about us, and they were involved. They just weren’t in the least bit fanciful or quirky. They were more practical, goal-oriented.”
“Yes. Goal-oriented. Very good. I approve.” Jade nodded and continued down the trail.
“See, switched at birth.”
She walked farther down the trail, her eyes landing on various details: wisps of clouds, crags in rocks. The curve of a vine winding up a tree trunk caught her attention and she stopped walking. Matt nearly bumped into her. She blushed, embarrassed. “It’s the vine, there. See how it’s gently curled around the tree, like an embrace? It caught my eye—I sometimes design jewelry and …” She didn’t know what else to say about something she was so passionate about. It felt too vulnerable.
Matt was staring. At her. Intently. One second they had been talking, and the next thing she knew, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. If they had been in a room. A whole friggin’ mountainside of air, and Jade could barely catch her breath. Plus, her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest. Just say something, anything, to break the spell. She just knew that two hours from now she’d have a killer line that would break the silence flawlessly, making her sound witty and clever and sophisticated and … oh fuck it. “I think my dad still has some of his Cartwright research here. In the office.”
• • •
Talking with Jade was easy, like talking with a friend. Yeah, a friend with high breasts, a sweet ass, and pants that he wanted to get into. Badly.
But mentioning the dad was a sure way to get his mind off fucking her. Good conversational save. Thank you, Jade.
It was so easy, just talking with her. Even surly, she was fun to talk to. In Matt’s experience, conversations were fraught with landmines. You treaded carefully or you pissed people off, and caution was not Matt’s strong point. The few close friends he had were not the types to be easily pissed off. Matt had little tolerance for pandering and coddling. It was probably why the string of dates that his mother kept pushing at him never seemed to work out. Conversation with them was work on par with solving the problems of world hunger, global warming, and world peace. Simultaneously.
“Really?” he said. “I’d love to take a look. If you don’t think he’ll mind.”
“I don’t see why he would. I’ll call him just to check. If he doesn’t mind, you can have at it.”
Hmm. “Have at it” was an unfortunate turn of phrase that brought Matt’s mind back to its previous train of thought. Her, him, coitus stupendous. He was about two seconds away from mentally undressing her. Not good. Maintain eye contact. God, her eyes were green. Sea green. What the hell had they been talking about? Oh, yeah, Joel Sawyer’s research notes. It would be great to get a look at them. The notes.
“Uh, great.” See, he could hold up his end of a rational conversation.
“Okay, good,” Jade lobbed back at him.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. So, I’ll, uh, call him and then … let you know.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Fuck. This conversation had flat-lined, and he had
no one to blame but his libido: Frank. Frank the libido. It was all that guy’s fault. ’Cause it certainly wasn’t Matt’s fault. No way. Matt had a modicum of self-control. Yesterday.
They had managed to hike their way back to Lakehaven’s main lawn (right past his own cabin), and he could either pretend he meant to go to the main house or turn back to his cabin and look like an ass. Oh, what the hell, that ship had already sailed anyway. “Well, thanks for the hike.”
“Sure. No problem. I’ll let you know about those notes.”
Matt just smiled and turned away, his hand waving a salute as he crossed the lawn back the way they had just come. It was interesting. They had both managed to avoid talking about the kiss.
Chapter 4
Jade went straight to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. A fresh pot was on (bless Meg), and Stu and Maddie, the Lakehaven cleaning crew, were seated at the table in the corner, each with their own steaming mug. Jade poured herself a cup and perched on a stool by the counter in the center of the room. Meg worked steadily at the butcher-block island rolling pastry dough into large sheets. Scruffy Jeff bounded into the room from outside. He reminded Jade of an ill-behaved dog—loveable, but always into something he shouldn’t be. He had gotten his truck working and had finally made it to work, late. That wasn’t anything new.
He dropped his tool belt on the steps before swinging the door shut. “I suppose you’re all wondering why I asked you here,” he joked. “That’s not some weird, flavored coffee is it?”
“Good God, no. This is a civilized kitchen. You’re probably smelling the almond in the pastry I’m making,” Meg said.
“Phew, you had me worried there.” Jeff poured himself a cup.
“Hey, I happen to like those flavored coffees. Hazelnut is the best,” Maddie piped in. Jade and Jeff swung their gazes around toward Maddie.
“What? It’s good! You just don’t appreciate gourmet.” She got three sets of raised eyebrows in response. “Stu, you think it’s good, right?” Stu just grunted in reply. “He drinks hazelnut coffee all the time at home.” Stu and Maddie had been married for decades. He no longer bothered to argue with her; he just shrugged.
“Okay, before we get any more frightening factoids about the drinking habits of Stu, I’m changing the subject. The Jordans in cabin four want to know if they can get more towels and an extra pillow,” Jeff informed Maddie.
“What, are they showering every hour on the hour? I just brought them eight towels this morning!” Maddie did not look happy.
“It’s the kids. Extra napkins at the dinner table, extra towels in the room. You should see how many loads of laundry I do at home,” Meg said.
“Maddie, when Ben gets in for his shift let him know to plan for extra laundry for the duration of the Jordans’ stay,” Jade requested. “Also, I’m doing all of the orders this week, so if we’re low on anything, let me know by Wednesday.”
“Yeah, I meant to tell you, we’re low on morale, but it’s nothing a good party and a case of Sierra Nevada pale ale can’t solve,” Jeff quipped.
Meg laughed. “The last time you planned a ‘morale-boosting event’ you spent the next day barfing in the bushes while you were supposed to be trimming them.”
“Hey, I got them trimmed … eventually.”
“Yeah, but they looked like Godzilla had gnawed on them,” said Jade.
Maddie jumped in. “And they smelled even worse!”
“It took them three weeks to look normal again,” Stu mumbled.
“Okay everyone, if you’re going to stay in the kitchen then at least help me cook while you’re here,” Meg said. Suddenly the conversation stopped and everyone looked at Meg. Stu shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Maddie grabbed his coffee mug along with hers and moved toward the dishwasher to put the mugs in. Jeff mumbled about clearing some brush off the path in front of cabin three and began to move toward the back door.
Jade laughed and winked at Meg. “That works every time.
Meg quirked an eyebrow. “The Kent sisters came in earlier. They were very chatty.”
Jade tried not to blush but failed. “Yeah, well, when are they not?”
“They were making a bet.”
“Again, when are they not?”
“About whether Mr. Connor had kissed you or not.”
“Oh.” Jade slid her gaze away from Meg and then to the clock on the wall. “Wow, will you look at the time? I must have a hundred things to do in my office.”
She could hear Meg calling after her: “Chicken!”
When Jade got to her office, she sat heavily in the chair and blew out a deep breath that lifted her bangs off her forehead. She swiveled in the chair and faced her desk. A smile played across her face, followed by a frown. What a mess. Kissing Matt had been stupendously erotic and monumentally stupid for numerous reasons. One, he was a guest. Two, he was here for a week and only for research. Three, he was incredibly charming and too suave. And four, and this was the kicker, he was a man, and therefore not to be trusted. He had “devastating heartbreaker” written all over him. He was trouble with a capital “T,” a big league player who probably had his pick of hot women—sophisticated, worldly, sexy, man-eating women who would take one look down their rhinoplastied noses at Jade and laugh—tinkling, brittle laughter. There was only one plan of action that seemed wise: avoid at all costs.
As Jade stared at her desk lost in thought, something seemed off. More than just her mood turned sour. The papers on the desk seemed out of place. Weird. She was pretty sure that they had been stacked and lined up with the corner of the desk, but they seemed like they had been moved slightly. She reached for the phone and that too was sitting at a slightly different angle, just a little less easy for her to pick up. Maybe someone had come in to use the phone, or maybe Maddie had come in to dust. She’d have to ask her about it later. She slid the phone forward, picked up the handset, and dialed her father.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dad. It’s me.”
“Jade, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, okay. Why the phone call?”
Jeez, can’t a girl just call her father? “I have a quick question.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I … There’s a writer here. He’s doing research on the Cartwright treasure. He wants to look at some of your papers. Would it be okay if I showed him your work?”
“A writer?”
“Yeah, a novelist. Wants to include some of the research you’ve done. Do you need details?”
“No, no that’s not necessary. I’m just … surprised, I guess.”
“Why?”
“I just thought that I was the only person even remotely interested in that old story anymore.”
“Apparently not. He says it’s an intriguing tale.”
“A he, huh?” She could almost see her Dad wiggling his eyebrows at her the way he used to anytime she talked about a boy. Any boy, any time.
Jade sighed. “Yes, Dad, a he.”
“Is there something else going on?”
“No, nothing. He’s a guest, and I just thought I’d be helpful.”
“If it seems okay with you, Jade; I trust your judgment.”
Jade paused a moment to think. Did she trust Matt? Maybe not with her heart, but there was something about him, something genuine.
“Jade? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m here. I do trust him. I barely know him, but I trust him somehow.”
“That’s good enough for me, Jade. You’re good with people. You always had a way of knowing … ”
Jade flinched at her father’s statement. He was so sure of her, so confident. When had she lost that in herself? Probably about the time she and Nick broke up. Shit. Water under the bridge. Don’t go there. Still, she missed that self-assuredness, that ease and certainty. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Just telling it like I see it. If he turns out to be a good guy, maybe he could escort you to my banquet.”
/>
Oh, crap. She had almost forgotten about her dad’s retirement dinner at the university. Her dad had been teaching there for twenty-five years, and even Jade had attended classes there. For awhile.
Jade leaned back in the chair and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Yeah, sure, Dad.”
“Good. How’s the jewelry coming?”
“Uh, good.”
“Okay. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“I will.”
“Love you, Pumpkin.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Jade hung up the phone and went to the filing cabinet where her mother and father kept their work. Every manila folder was carefully labeled. Each poem, each academic paper, each short story was lovingly catalogued with a name and date. She found the folder labeled Cartwright. It was from eight years ago, the summer Jade was seventeen. It really wasn’t that long ago, but she had been naïve and hopeful. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Hudson River Valley
April 7, 1616
Dear Mother,
I do not know when I will be able to post this. It may be many weeks until I arrive some place that can deliver this to you, but I sit here in this wilderness and I wish to share my thoughts with you. I am camped out about two days travel south of a scheduled meeting with a colleague and potential business partner. I should be on my way soon, but I am reluctant to leave here. I have met a woman, Alsoomse, and it is hard to pull myself away from where she is.
So I sit at the side of the river, watching eddies curl around the rocks and thinking of a girl with black hair, flashing green eyes, and high spirit.
Her name means “independent” in her language and it suits her well. It suits me well for that matter. I left you and the family, not for lack of love but because the structure and privilege were stifling. There is a place downstream where the riverbanks close in and debris piles up, creating waters that stagnate and smell of rotting wood and leaves. Life in England was like that for me. The inertia was slowly killing my spirit.
