by Carol Grace
Adam worked alongside her, not speaking. Suddenly she set her knife down on a rocky outcrop and pulled herself to a sitting position.
"When you were writing all those personal things to me, were you you or were you Jack?"
“Partly I was Jack. But mostly I was me. I told you things about myself I've never told anyone else. I looked forward to your letters. No, I lived for your letters. What I did wasn't right and I have no excuses. But I wouldn't trade your letters for anything," he added in a husky voice.
"You have them?" she asked as the wind whipped her hair against her cheek.
He nodded. "Why, do you want them back?"
"No." She ran her hand over the wet, smooth rock. "I feel so stupid. How could I have been so stupid?"
"You're not stupid," he said vehemently.
"Not stupid? All the things you said to me, all the questions you asked me, all the places you took me. You didn't need to do that. I would have told you whatever you wanted to know without your being so nice." Her voice broke and she turned her head and let the salt spray dampen her clothes. It was nothing compared to the waves of self-pity that threatened to wash her away.
"Mandy," he said, edging closer to her on the rock. "I came to spy on you, I admit that, but once I got here, everything changed. I... Seeing you...connecting a face to the letters, a body to the mind wasn't what I thought it would be. I knew you belonged to Jack, but I wanted you for myself. I tried not to, because I have nothing to offer a woman, just ask my ex-wife. I can't ask anyone to share my life. Where I'm going, no woman can come. But that didn't stop me from wondering, from imagining. All I can say is that I'm sorry."
She slid down the rock and landed on her feet in the sand. "I think I've heard enough," she said, brushing off the seat of her pants. "I'm going home."
"About Jack," he said hastily before she could go. "He's really a good guy. He blames me for messing things up for him. I thought maybe you and he..."
She shook her head and he heaved a sigh of relief. As much as he wanted Mandy to find happiness and Jack to find true love, he didn't know what he'd do if they found it together. He wasn't a saint. He was only a man and there was just so much a man could take. If he had to stand and stare at her much longer, to watch the drops that collected in her eyelashes spill down her cheeks, he wouldn't have the strength to leave.
"Don't worry about me," she said, her chin raised to the stubborn angle he'd seen before. "Just go or you'll miss your plane or whatever it is you're taking. And don't try to match me up with Jack or anyone else. Whatever you think of me, I'm capable of managing my own life."
She swallowed hard and wished he'd leave now and disappear from her life forever. Every minute he stayed she felt more like a charity case who needed handouts of love and affection.
"I don't need you or Yukon Man to make my life complete. My life is just fine the way it is," she said emphatically.
But he still didn't leave. He continued to stand there with his brow furrowed, his eyes deep and filled with some combination of remorse and pity. What could she do to make him understand? How could she make him believe her? In the cool gray fog he looked like a shadow of the real Adam Gray.
"Please go," she said quietly. "I appreciate your coming by, but there was really no need. I understand what happened and I understand why it happened. But you could have explained it to me on the phone. Of course I was hurt for a moment, but not anymore. I'm fine, just fine."
She was proud of the way she kept her voice steady, of the way she disguised her shaking hands by clutching the handle of her bucket. "I'll look at it as if it were a learning experience, if I look at it at all. In a few days I'll have forgotten all about it and I'm sure you will have, too."
"I won't forget you," he said, and his eyes flashed with certainty.
"Yes, you will," she insisted. "Once you get to your drilling platform you'll have too much on your mind to think about anyone. I saw those pictures of the Yukon. It’s beautiful and it’s fascinating."
He reached out and touched her cheek, the saddest look in his eyes she'd ever seen.
"So are you," he said in a hoarse whisper so soft she wasn't sure she'd heard him. And then he was gone. He turned and walked away and disappeared into the fog, leaving the imprint of his hand on her cheek.
Mandy's knees gave way and she sat down on the wet sand and buried her face in her damp blue jeans and sobbed until she'd exhausted herself. She wasn't sure who she was crying for, the woman who'd loved and lost for the second time or the man who'd had to break the news to her.
Chapter Ten
Rich petroleum deposits lie under the waters off the North Sea. Portable drilling platforms dot the coast from Point Barrow to the border of Canada. The platforms operate in water more than one hundred feet deep and the men drill to depths of twenty thousand feet or more. The dangers are numerous: fires from fuel leaks, falling gear from hoists, icy surfaces that make any movement on the platform risky, and high winds that could damage the rig and sweep everyone into the icy waters below.
In addition to the derrick and drilling machinery, the platforms have sleeping and eating rooms for the crew, as well as offices for the geological engineers who analyze core samples to instruct the men where to dig. But some engineers prefer the raw winds, the slick decks and the noise of the drill to the confines of a small office inside. Especially when they have trouble keeping their minds on their work.
Take Adam Gray, for example. Although his work was waiting for him in his office, he was roaming the deck restlessly, scanning the turbulent sea and the slate gray sky as if the answer to his problems was out there somewhere instead of deep inside him.
He'd been there a number of weeks now. Ordinarily the schedule was two weeks on, one week off, but Adam had elected to stay on the platform nonstop and had taken no breaks for R and R. Adam had waited so long for this choice assignment, he wanted to experience every moment of heart- stopping danger, excitement and thrills. And although he wouldn't admit it to anybody, he was afraid to leave in case what he'd been looking for all these years wasn't to be found on a drilling platform.
That was the fear that kept him there. Even now, a week before Christmas, he had no plans to go anywhere. There was a camaraderie on the platform and the men in their insulated jumpsuits and hard hats shouted greetings to him as he made the rounds from the tower to the derrick. There was excitement in the air as the men looked forward to the Christmas vacation. Replacements from the Lower 48 would arrive for short-term duty so anyone who wanted to leave, could.
When he was a child, Adam and his father didn't make much of the holidays. They were often in some remote site like this one and a Norman Rockwell-style Christmas was not a part of Adam's childhood memories. But this year he occasionally thought about Christmas at a charming house on the Pacific Coast, which probably had a wreath on the door by now, beckoning the guests coming there to sample Mandy's muffins, her afternoon sherry and her warm welcome at the door.
He wondered what she thought about him now, if anything. She'd probably forgotten about him after what he'd done to her. It was better if she did. Better that she got on with her life the way he was getting on with his. No, not that way.
There must be a better way to get on with your life than trudging the confines of a drilling platform like a caged animal, looking out to sea for something that would never come. He went inside then, not to escape the wind and the below-zero temperature, but to escape the endless monotony.
He checked his mailbox and found a few bills but nothing more. He wondered where Jack was, wondered if he'd found a wife. He wondered if Gene's ex-wife was still with him. Why he was so concerned with his friends' marital status, he hadn't a clue. It was of absolutely no importance to him.
He went to his office and examined slides under a microscope, but all he could see were wavy lines that reminded him of the curtains blowing in Mandy's bedroom, which reminded him of the green silk nightgown she'd been wearing when he'd brought
her breakfast in bed. Which reminded him... He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. This wasn't good, this obsession with Mandy. It was coming between him and his work, work that had always meant everything to him, had meant enough to ruin his first marriage.
He unlocked the file cabinet behind his desk, reached in the back of the bottom drawer and drew out a box of letters. Mandy's letters. Then he put them on the middle of his desk and stared at than, daring himself to read through them again. Just to see if he could do it without coming unglued. Each time he did it, it should get better. He should become more detached.
But it didn't work that way. Each time he read them, it got worse. He slipped further into a deep pit of regret. He didn't know if he could read them again, revisit the past and torture himself any more. He'd come here to start fresh, make a new beginning, instead he was going backward, sliding back two steps for every one step he went forward.
Not that it showed. He hoped no one knew. He hoped no one guessed from the way he acted around the installation. He was cheerful. God, was he cheerful, making jokes, remembering everybody's name and where they were from, their backgrounds. As if they were family. That was how it always was. His father had made the drilling site their home.
Nothing wrong with that. If it was good enough for his father, it was good enough for him. He had exactly what he wanted, but not what he'd expected. He hadn't expected to suffer from the boredom and the sameness and the loneliness. He hadn't expected to miss Mandy so much it felt like a sharp ache in the middle of his chest. He hadn't known he would have to pay for his mistakes and that the price would be so high.
Mandy's image floated through his dreams at night and continued into his daydreams. The one woman in the world who never wanted to see him again was the woman he saw over and over, but only in his dreams. He lowered his head and rested it on the box of letters. He didn't need to read them again. He knew than all by heart.
Mandy was standing on top of the ladder with a star in her hands, putting the finishing touch on her Christmas tree. She had attached it to the top branch when the doorbell rang. It was gratifying to know that the guests continued to come. So gratifying, she hardly ever gave a thought to the man who had started her on the road to success with his letter to the newspaper.
She scarcely ever thought about him anymore, sometimes only once a day, when the fog rolled in about five o'clock and she remembered the day on the beach when he'd told her the truth. She would have preferred being hit over the head with the flat spade she used to dig clams. It would have been less painful. A lump on the head would have been better than the empty hollow in the pit of her stomach and a throat so dry she could hardly swallow.
But the worst part had been coming face-to-face with the fact that she'd been naive and stupid. But what else could she think? She'd overlooked the most blatant clues to Adam's background. The questions he'd asked, the questions he hadn't answered. It was all there and she hadn't seen it. She'd been blinded by his good looks and his charm.
Adam must have wondered where her brain was. He must have been amazed at how easy it was to fool her. There were times during the past weeks when the humiliation had washed over her like a tidal wave and it had taken all her efforts to keep a smile on her face for her guests.
Standing on top of the ladder with the star beaming at her, she knew that the very worst part was finding out that Adam had never cared for her at all. He'd only been investigating her for his friend. He'd certainly thrown himself into his work. She'd say that for him.
Fortunately it was almost Christmas and she had so much to do, so much to look forward to. Laurie would be home in a few days and there would be guests staying in the guest rooms. She brushed the pine needles off her hands and ran for the door.
"Hi, Mandy." Jack Larue stood on the doormat holding a package under his arm and looking so tentative and uneasy that she opened the door wide and invited him in. Then she offered him a glass of hot mulled wine she'd made for her guests.
He sat in the chair next to the fireplace, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She assumed he'd say what he'd come to say eventually, so she sat down across from him and waited. Funny, she wasn't angry with Jack for his part in the charade. Maybe it was because Jack hadn't hurt her feelings. Jack had followed through. He'd even asked her to marry him, even though he wasn't in love with her. He was a nice guy, rich, too, but... She had to admit it, Laurie was right. The only thing wrong with Jack was that he wasn't Adam.
"How've you been?" Mandy asked at last. "Are you, have you found a wife or a job?"
"Funny you should ask," Jack said, crossing his leg over his knee. "It turns out jobs are easier to find than wives. My old boss Gene called and asked if I'd fill in up on the North Sea for the guys who are coming home for Christmas."
Mandy looked up at him and he read the question in her eyes. "No, not Adam. Adam's staying there. Adam has no place to go."
Mandy pressed her lips together and hardened her heart. You mean, he has no place he wants to go, she wanted to add. She would not feel sorry for him, if be had no place to go it was his own fault. He was the one who had put his work first all these years.
"You haven't heard from him, have you?" Jack asked.
Mandy shook her head. "I don't expect to. We really have nothing more to say to each other."
"Too bad," Jack mused, leaning back in his chair and gazing into the fire.
"Not at all," Mandy assured him. "I'm sure Adam is more than satisfied with his life up there. After all, it’s what he's always wanted, isn't it?"
Jack shrugged. "It’s what he always said he wanted." He turned to Mandy. "What about you?"
"Me? I couldn't be happier. If I think about Adam at all, which I hardly ever do..." She crossed her fingers behind her back. "It's with..." Oh, God, what was it with, anger, sorrow, regret, disappointment? "Mild interest," she finished.
"That's all?" Jack asked, drawing his eyebrows together.
"Yes," she said firmly, and changed the subject so that Jack could tell her about his travels and his gold mine. She even went to the kitchen and brought back a fruitcake wrapped in cellophane and tied with a red ribbon.
He thanked her, then brought the subject back to Adam again. "I'm sorry for sending Adam down here to spy on you. It was all my idea, you know. Adam didn't want to do it "
"If he didn't want to do it, why did he?" Mandy interrupted. "What did you do, twist his arm in a hammerlock? I can't believe Adam could be forced to do something be didn't want to do."
"But it’s true. The guy is so generous, such a damned good friend."
Mandy got to her feet and ran her hands through her hair. "Come on, Jack. I know what he is. I know what he did. He's unscrupulous. At least you were sincere. You were sincerely looking for a wife. Adam was just toying with me.
Jack narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure about that."
"You weren't here, you didn't see him," Mandy insisted.
"No, but I can imagine." Jack got up from his chair and gave the package to Mandy with an awkward gesture. "I don't know if you'll want this, probably not, after what you just said, but I thought I'd bring it by and show it to you, anyway. Go ahead, open it."
Mandy ripped the flap of the padded envelope and pulled out an old, framed black-and-white photograph of a tall man and a small boy standing in front of an oil well in a desert somewhere. The boy's level gaze met hers with a self-assurance beyond his years. Mandy's heart stopped beating and her eyes smarted with tears as she recognized the smile and the confident set of his shoulders.
"Is it..."she choked.
"Adam and his dad. My boss found it in his office. They were old friends, Gene and Adam's father. Thought the world of him. A loner just like his son."
Mandy nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the picture of the boy with the shock of dark hair slanted across his forehead, the father with his arm draped over the boy's shoulders. The affection between them was unmistakable.
Jack bac
ked toward the door, the fruitcake under his arm, clearly uncomfortable with the emotion the photograph had provoked.
Mandy held the picture out. "Don't you want to take it to him?" she asked.
Jack shook his head. "No place to hang pictures up there. Besides, it's better you hold on to it for him until..."
"But I won't. I won't ever see him again."
"You never know," Jack said, and then he was gone, into the night, leaving her with the picture in her hands, staring at it until her guests descended for hot mulled wine and hors d'oeuvres.
Adam expected the short-term vacation replacements, but be didn't expect Jack to be one of than. Jack didn't work for the company anymore.
"How'd he talk you into coming?" Adam demanded over coffee in the mess hall.
Jack shrugged. "No place else to go. I thought I'd be married by now. But since I'm not, I wanted to let some lucky bastard go home to his wife and kids."
Adam smiled reluctantly. "You could start over again. Put in another ad."
"Would you help answer the letters?"
Adam looked up at him. "What do you think?"
"I didn't think so, but hell, it didn't work out so badly, did it?"
"Oh, no. I just hurt the one woman in the world who didn't deserve it."
"Don't worry about her. She's doing fine."
"How do you know?" Adam asked.
"Stopped by to see her the other day. She sent you a fruitcake. It’s in my duffel bag."
Adam's mouth fell open in surprise. "You're kidding. Go get it."
Jack gave him a mock salute and was back in minutes with the gift-wrapped cake. He watched while Adam carefully peeled back the wrapping and inhaled the scent of nuts and fruit and brandy with his eyes closed.
"What did she say?" Adam asked. "Did she say anything about me?"
