Storm the Author's Cut

by Vanessa Grant

  At the station she was immediately caught up in the task of preparing for the Noon Show and Island Time. The weekend rescue operation bumped anything else that might have made it on to the shows for this Monday.

  By the time morning finished, she had an exciting assortment of supporting telephone interviews in the can: five minutes with a JRCC official, a great interview with the manager of the logging camp, and a short telephone interview with a crash victim who spoke from a hospital telephone. She tied all the interviews together with a commentary that included her own first-hand report of the search.

  Nat read it with excitement.

  "Record it! We'll give it to the network. I know Vancouver will take it—even Toronto may take parts. This is good stuff!"

  She recorded her own commentary and spliced in the interviews. Then she made up a condensed version for the Noon Show. The full report would air on Island Time that afternoon.

  Nat walked into Studio 2 as she and John were finishing the Noon Show. "What are you doing for lunch, Laurie?"

  "Meeting Bev."

  "Cancel. You're coming out with me. Impossible to have an uninterrupted conversation here."

  "But Bev will have already left..."

  "I'll stand in for you," said John.

  "Are you sure? You might get lynched by your admirers." If John Wainright took Beverly McDonald to lunch it would certainly start people talking.

  "My female admirers are gentle women."

  Laurie left him too it with a laugh.

  Luckily Island Time was in the bag, because Nat kept her until almost two, talking over details and duties of her new job. When she got back, the show went off without a hitch. As they closed the show, John threw the switch, giving control back to Harry in Studio 1.

  "That was a good one," said John.

  "It felt good. Let's hope Ellen gets positive 'phone-in comments on it." She hesitated, then said, "Nat says Peter won't be coming back to the station. He's retiring,"

  John had his headphones off and was stretching his long, lean body. "Did Nat offer the job to you? You deserve it."

  "I—Yes, but what about you? You've been here longer."

  "I'm happy where I am. The job was made for you."

  "Well, I've accepted it."

  "And the boyfriend?"

  She grimaced. "I haven't told him yet."

  "Don't wait too long," he advised her.

  After John left, Laurie tidied up. She was sorting through the news items for the six o'clock news when Ellen rang through to tell her that Luke Lucas was out front.

  "Send him in." Her voice was as casual, but her hands were shaking. What did Luke want of her? Yesterday he had stared at her without even a smile.

  "Hello, Luke."

  He let the studio door swing shut behind him. He rammed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and walked a few steps into the room before glowering at her.

  "I just finished listening to your report on Island Time." He had tuned her in from five thousand feet up in the air, but he didn't tell her that. "I don't want my name all over the airwaves."

  "I respect that you don't want to be interviewed, but you can't complain when I give a factual report of what I saw with my own eyes."

  "I bloody well am complaining."

  "Your competition would do anything for the free advertising you got this afternoon."

  "I don't want free advertising and I want you to stop putting my name on the air."

  "Why?" This made no sense at all. Lots of people didn't like interviews because they were afraid of adverse publicity; but she had reported the search as it happened. There was nothing but praise for Luke's part in it. After today, he would be getting new customers. As she had told him, it could do him nothing but good.

  "I don't want the network to pick it up." He paced restlessly. It was a small room and it wasn't made for pacing.

  "But why?" National publicity wouldn't do his business any harm either.

  Harry was in the next studio, staring curiously through the glass. Luke glared back at him. The only one explanation Laurie could think of was Bev's crazy notion. "You don't want your father to hear it?"

  "I'd rather he didn't. I've managed to avoid fighting with him the last few years—only because I haven't seen him."

  "He doesn't know where you are? Don't you think its time you made contact again?"

  "I doubt it." Luke swung away, still pacing. She remembered how he had led her down from the edge of the cliff, protecting her from the storm.

  "I'm afraid the story's already gone, Luke. It went to Vancouver this morning and they'll probably use it. It's probably already been aired."

  "That's that, then." He pulled his hands from his pockets. She had a crazy urge to stop him from going. "Try restraining yourself in future, would you. "

  "If there's news, Luke, it is my job."

  "Just don't go out of your way to find news around me."

  "All right, but I can't speak for anyone else—John or—"

  "The others I can handle."

  Was he saying he couldn't handle her?

  "Do you think your father will hear it?"

  "If he doesn't, someone will tell him." He shrugged his broad shoulders. Did his father look like him? Burly and forceful, with that hard, lined face? His father's hair would be grey. Luke's hair had touches of grey in it. She remembered the feel of it on her fingers.

  "I'm sorry, Luke. I didn't mean you any harm."

  "Don't worry about it. I wasn't quite ready for my father, but I don't suppose it matters." His lips curved in a half smile. A moment ago she had been sure he was furious with her.

  "How are you doing?" His eyes were serious now. He had to be talking about her and Ken.

  "Fine. I don't know." She'd been fine all day, but if she remembered Ken and their dinner date tonight, she knew that 'fine' was the last word to describe her state.

  "Did you tell him?" She couldn't read what was in his eyes. She dropped her own gaze to the papers in her hand. She had crumpled the top news item beyond recognition.

  "No, I... Tonight." That had been going around and around in her head. She still had no words that she could use to tell Ken she had spent a night in another man's arms. She had told no one about it. She couldn't imagine telling her mother—certainly not her father! She couldn't even tell Bev, although her friend knew something was wrong.

  She had betrayed them all. If her father knew, he would be hardly less upset than Ken. "I don't know how."

  "It was a strange night—the storm and the searching." Luke's voice was incredibly gentle. Your memories of your brother and the crash, and I'd hardly slept in days. Maybe we were both a little insane that night."

  "It was my fault that my brother died."

  Luke sat across from her and took her hand in his, stilling the trembling in her fingers.

  "I wanted him to make that flight, nagged at him until he agreed. He thought it wasn't safe but I wanted to fly into Prince Rupert for the weekend. It never occurred to me anything might happen—the weather wasn't as bad as this weekend, but there was fog. The last thing we saw was Bonilla Island Lighthouse. After that—"

  His eyes were so dark, she thought she might drown in them. "They all died, and it was my fault."

  On the other side of the glass, Harry spoke to his microphone with silently moving lips. Luke held her eyes while his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

  "If your brother had his pilot's license, then he was trained in weather, trained to know the dangers. Every time there's a storm I get customers wanting me to fly regardless of the weather. They're not trained pilots but I am, and if I fly that plane when it wasn't safe, it doesn't matter who asked me to do it—whatever happens is my responsibility. If your brother flew when he shouldn't have, that was his responsibility—not yours. Just how bad was the weather? Gale warning?"

  She shook her head. "Just rotten weather—windy and rainy with fog. The commercial seaplanes had been flying."

 
"Bonilla Island was the last thing you saw? Could you see the fog bank then?"

  "Like a wall in front of us." She didn't need to close her eyes to see it, the sea and sky disappearing into the grey.

  "Laurie," he took both her hands in his and the papers fell. "I wasn't there and I don't know what your brother felt his choices were. But no experienced pilot who valued his life would fly blind into a wall of fog. He could have turned back; he could have tried landing at Bonilla; or he could have tried to gain altitude to get above it. You can't blame yourself for that kind of error in judgment."

  "But he wasn't experienced. He just got his license, just got the plane—it was my Dad's but he couldn't fly and he gave it to my brother for his birthday. And I forced him to go out in something he couldn't handle."

  "Laurie, you could as easily say that Lyell Island Logging is responsible for Friday's crash because they ordered the plane."

  With his hands holding hers, his voice in her ears, she could believe that it was true. She shouldn't have egged Shane on, but how could she have known what would happen? Had Shane made a mistake in flying on past Bonilla Island? She remembered his face, panicked and wild, as they had flown into the thick grey fog.

  "That pilot that crashed in Darwin Sound—"

  "Air crashes are like car crashes. Most can be avoided with a bit of caution, but people are human and mistakes happen. But sometimes equipment fails and there's nothing that could have been done. You can't carry the weight for it."

  He let her hands go. Her skin still tingled where his fingers had been. "I've tried to make up to my parents for Shane—for—I was a wild teen. You wouldn't believe..."

  "Wouldn't I?" He didn't touch her, but she felt his hands on her again, his lips against her skin. She remembered how she went wild in his arms.

  "I smartened up after Shane died. I grew up, stopped getting into trouble."

  "The woman I hear on the radio is warm and alive and full of irrepressible curiosity—the same woman I held in my arms Saturday night. You can't just put a lid on her."

  The studio seemed hot. There were no windows, but the air conditioning usually kept the room at a perfect temperature. Laurie turned away from Luke, sorting the news items into a meaningless jumble.

  "I had to grow up. I couldn't go on being impulsive and immature."

  "And your fiancé? Which woman does he know? The one behind the microphone—the one I know? He doesn't, does he? Saturday night was like an explosion, something that had been building up in you for a long time."

  "Stop it," she whispered. "Stop it!"

  He had been leaning over her, his broad shoulders blocking out everything but Luke himself. He stepped back. Except for the dark eyes, there was no expression at all. A moment ago, his face had reflected—what?

  "It's past time for me to go."

  She watched his back as he walked away. The moment he reached the door, she knew he was going to turn back.

  "If I'm right, Laurie, you can't spend the rest of your life with a man who doesn't even know who you are."

  The door swung silently closed, leaving her alone.

  He had said too much. At first he had offered her the storm and her memories of Shane as an excuse for Saturday night. But she could not accept Luke's parting suggestion that Saturday night her repressed self had burst free. In one night she had created a nightmare of chaos out of her life. She had to be able to work her way through this crisis rationally, bury that night in the past...

  When news time came she spoke into the microphone, hardly knowing what she said. Afterwards Nat rang through to ask her to come in before she left, and Ellen called to say Ken was waiting in the lobby for her.

  "I'll be out in five minutes. Offer him a coffee, please."

  "I'll look after him."

  Nat was behind his usual pile of paperwork.

  "Will you ever get through all of that?" she asked him.

  "Probably not. I don't work overtime. I spend my nights at home with Violet. It's much more rewarding."

  What was Violet like alone with Nat? What was it about the Haida woman he called his princess that made Nat so content with his home and his life?

  "I had a call from Ken this afternoon," said Nat. "He told me you're leaving the station. He says you're giving notice as of today, leaving in a month."

  "He—It's not true. He had no right."

  "He says he doesn't like you working overtime. Just for the record, Laurie, nobody requires you to work overtime. If you do, it's your decision."

  Her body ejected from the chair and she paced a restless circle on his carpet. "I'm sorry about this. I don't blame you for being angry. Ken and I argued yesterday. He said he wanted me to quit, but I never thought he would do this!"

  "I'd like you for the job, but not if you're going to quit in a month or two."

  Chapter 9

  Ken ordered a drink for himself. Laurie ordered coffee. She needed a clear head.

  "Nat just told me you resigned on my behalf."

  "Wait a minute. The waitress is coming back."

  "I don't want food. I want to know what made you think you could tell my boss I'm quitting. "

  Ken hissed, "Later." Then he actually smiled at the approaching waitress. "We'll both have the salmon—and salad, with french dressing."

  "Anything else, sir?"

  "No, thanks."

  The waitress moved away Laurie fought to keep her voice level while tension built painfully inside her chest. "What makes you think I want the salmon? And by the way, I don't like French dressing."

  "You always want the salmon. Incidentally, Beverly and John Wainright are coming here for dinner. I told Bev they should join us." He moved his hand to cover hers on the table. She stilled her hand, resisting the urge to jerk it away from his touch.

  "Bev and John? They had lunch together but I can't remember—"

  Her thoughts froze when she recognized a man across the room holding a chair for his dinner partner.

  Luke—again!

  Why was Luke here of all places? Who was the woman with him? Her long, dark hair topped an elegant suit that might have come from Paris.

  "What can't you remember?" demanded Ken.

  Bev and John. They'd been talking about Bev and John. And dinner. Salmon.

  "Ken, we need to talk alone." Luke hadn't seen her, but her heart pounded from the sight of him.

  "It shouldn't take long to settle what needs settling, Laurie. We'll get married the end of this month, once you're finished at the station."

  "You have no right to interfere with my job."

  "We're getting married. That gives me the right."

  The members of the band were on stage, tuning their instruments. Ken turned to watch them.

  "Where do all those decisions come from? We're getting married next month; I'm quitting my job. It's my life and I have no part in the decisions? Did you miss the turn of the century?"

  "Mother and I both agree that you'd feel more settled if we were married. Less inclined to..."

  "To what? Run off on rescue missions?"

  "Among other things."

  "Let me get this straight. You and your mother decided my future? Without consulting me?"

  "We want what's best for you."

  "How do you know what I want or need? What right do you have to decide that I shouldn't help out when there's a missing plane? Do you have any idea who I am?"

  "Laurie, you're shouting. I don't know what gets into you. You've always gone along with me in the past; now, suddenly, you've become completely antagonistic. Here's Bev now, and about time."

  Had Ken always been like this? It was true that she had gone along with whatever he wanted since they started dating. Was that a commitment never to disagree with him?

  Ken seemed happy to see Bev and John; perhaps because their arrival ended the argument. Across the room, Luke was talking with the beautiful, tall brunette while Bev laughed with John over some witty comment Ken made. Laurie managed a s
mile, but she had no idea what it was all about.

  When the band began to play, Ken asked her to dance. It was the opportunity she needed to talk to him.

  She resisted the pressure of his hand trying to draw her close. She could see Luke and his glamorous date talking over drinks at the far side of the dance floor. Luke's hands played with his glass. With Ken's hands on her back, she could only think of Luke caressing her. It was terribly wrong, dancing in Ken's arms, wanting another man's touch.

  She waited until they got to the middle of the floor away from Bev and John, away from Luke and his partner.

  "I'm not quitting my job, Ken. As a matter of fact, I've been offered a promotion and I've accepted it."

  "We've discussed this far too much, Laurie." Ken's voice had a quality of strained patience that infuriated her. "I won't have you working at that job while we're married. You can get another job, one that doesn't interfere with our private life."

  He pulled her to him. She felt his body against hers and knew that they were too far apart for talking to make any difference. She had been upset and angry, now she felt only a cold certainty.

  "I have a better idea. We'll cancel the wedding."

  "Don't be childish. The subject is closed, Laurie. It's a beautiful night outside. We'll dance, and then we'll join my sister and her date and you'll forget this nonsense."

  Tonight she had been going to tell him about herself and Luke, but Ken was a stranger and she wondered if she'd ever known him. Had he always been a stranger? Had she danced through the last two years with his arms around her, pretending he was what she wanted? Could she really have fooled herself for so long?

  "I don't want to marry you."

  "Cut it out, Laurie!" They were stopped, standing in the centre of the dance floor. "This is no place for an argument. We'll go for a drive later."

  "No, we won't." She thought she was going to cry and she certainly would not cry in front of Ken. "You're right, there's been enough discussion. I don't want to marry you. I want my job and I want my freedom. If I want to go off on a search for a missing plane, I don't want to be made to feel guilty about it. Ever since I've come back from that search, you and your mother have made me feel like a criminal. I'm tired of being watched and told what to do every minute. I'm not a child, Ken, and I will live my own life. The engagement's off! Find yourself a nice, well-mannered girl who doesn't want a career or a life of her own!"