Storm the Author's Cut

by Vanessa Grant

  That didn't sound very hopeful. You couldn't end a two-year-old estrangement by walking in and starting to give orders.

  "Did you answer?"

  He grimaced. "It gets kind of exhausting, being at war with my own father. In the end I 'phoned him. After all these years, I thought we might have been able to talk, but I'm beginning to doubt it."

  "What happened?"

  He shrugged, closed the book with a snap. "He wants me back in the business."

  She tried to visualize his father. After all this time, after the bitterness of their parting, he must want badly to establish contact again. "I wonder why he sent a telegram instead of calling—or coming here. Maybe he was afraid you wouldn't want to see him. If he sent a telegram, at least he didn't have to hear you say no to him."

  Luke's smile was bitter. "I doubt it, Laurie. I don't think he gives a damn what I have to say. Let's talk about something else,"

  "What about your mother, Luke? Tell me about her."

  He moved restlessly to his feet, going to the window. "Not tonight. Tell me what you've been doing the last few weeks. Have you started your new job yet?"

  "I'm getting there. We've been setting up interviews for next week—for the new announcer."

  "Won't you miss being a roving reporter?"

  "I really want to get my fingers into the decision making part of the station, but I don't want to spend my days the way my predecessor did. I'm hoping I can mould the job to suit my own temperament. Of course that means molding Nat, so I hope he'll see it my way, too."

  When Max whimpered and walked to the door, they put on his leash and went out to walk on the beach. It was dark, but there was moonlight shining on the water, lighting the beach enough for them to find their way. The waves surged gently on the beach and they moved slowly, talking without tension. Laurie freed Max from his leash, then Luke threw sticks for the excited dog to chase.

  "What have you been doing this last couple of weeks, Luke?"

  "Flying." He bent to pick up the stick from Max. "I flew to Vancouver last week to pick up a new plane—another Goose."

  "Business is good?"

  "Pretty good. I've picked up a subcontract for a daily scheduled flight to the mainland."

  She whistled, impressed. The scheduled flights were controlled by the Department of Transport and, strictly speaking, belonged to the large airlines. However, small routes like that from Haida Gwaii to the mainland were not always profitable for a large plane. Consequently, the larger airlines sometimes subcontracted the routes to smaller companies who could operate profitably with fewer passengers.

  When the moon went behind a cloud they turned back, finding their way by feel, holding hands, stumbling in the dark and laughing at Max as he circled them excitedly. They found her house by the light on the porch. Luke kept her hand, walking her to the door.

  "Good night, Laurie." He placed the leash in her hand and stroked the dog. She felt that he had stroked her. "Have a good sleep."

  She flushed, thinking of the big double bed he had not seen.

  "You too." For a moment she thought he might move closer, take her in his arms, but he turned away and she watched him walk to the truck, watched him drive away,

  Max whimpered.

  "No," she said. "I need a friend more than I need a lover. It's better that way."

  The dog snorted.

  For all her conviction that she did not want to become too deeply involved with Luke just now—or with anyone, for that matter—if he had reached for her she would have been in his arms.

  She should have been too busy to care. Life at the station was chaotic, working at her old job while helping Nat choose the new announcer. She worked hard and felt too tired in the evenings to do much more than eat and fall into bed. Busy though she was, she couldn't count the number of times she stopped whatever she was doing, wondering when she'd see Luke next.

  Friday she was almost finished with the Noon Show when the red light flashed silently, indicating a call on the phone.

  "For you," John said, handing over the receiver.

  "When do you take lunch?" asked Luke.

  "In five minutes. Where are you?"

  "Just outside. Will you have lunch with me?"

  "Yes." She hung up, breathless, hardly knowing what she said when John signaled her to speak the final words of the show.

  "New boyfriend?" he asked after they went off air and she flushed, uncertain what part Luke wanted for her in his life, what part she wanted in his.

  "We'll see."

  Caution went to the winds when she saw Luke waiting in the reception area. She wanted to run over to him, throw herself into his arms, but Ellen was watching intently and Nat's door was open.

  "We'll go to Vicki's, shall we? Or would you rather the hotel?" he asked, holding the door for her.

  "Vicki's, please."

  "How was your week?"

  "How about you? Did you fly this morning?" He was wearing the jacket he'd worn the day they few on the search.

  "Hmm. Took some workers into the Lyell Island logging camp. By the way, one of my passengers was the fellow who broke his leg in that crash. He sends his thanks."

  "To me? I didn't do anything."

  "You were there. After that broadcast of yours, everybody knows you were there. I like the interview you did today."

  "Thanks. Interviewing someone like that is easy—she's got so much to say, interesting things."

  "How's the search for your replacement going?"

  "Oh, I've got to tell you about that! What a week!" They settled down with coffee after giving their orders to Vicky. "We've had three candidates up here this week. The first one was great, Nat and I both loved her, but her voice was a disaster when she auditioned. It's funny, but a voice that sounds good doesn't always come over the radio well. This one had a horrible twang. The next one flew in—I met her at the airport in Sandspit—and promptly informed me that no way was she going to live in a Godforsaken little island in the north Pacific. She turned around and flew out on the same plane.

  "After that, all the third one would have had to do is have a bearable voice and be willing to come up here."

  "And?"

  "She never showed. I finally tracked her down by telephone. She's pregnant and marrying the baby's father and move to Seattle."

  "Could you be pregnant?" asked Luke abruptly. "On the island we didn't—"

  "I'm on the pill." She covered her hot cheeks with her hands. "I should have said, so you wouldn't worry."

  "Will you have dinner with me Friday?"

  "I'm working until at least seven. Why don't you come out to my place and I'll make supper?"

  "Sounds good, but I'll make the supper."

  Friday was every bit as hectic as she had expected. She flew out to the west coast to interview the archaeologist who was supervising the dig there, getting back late. The flight was a charter, one of Luke's planes, but she'd never met the pilot before, and she didn't see Luke while she was either coming or going at the seaplane base.

  She drove home that night, wondering when Luke would come, or if he would come. She hadn't heard from him since they had lunch together. He might have forgotten, might have had to fly out on one of the charters that would keep him away for two or three days.

  When she turned into her driveway, she saw Luke's truck right away, parked to the side. She parked beside him, forcing herself to breathe slowly so that her heart would stop its pounding. She was frightened by the depth of feeling he stirred in her. She thought, often, of her mother. Julia Mather had given up part of herself for the man she loved and Laurie had come close to doing the same thing for Ken, a man she didn't even love.

  Did she love Luke? There was a tremendous physical attraction, and she hoped that he was her friend, but even the thought of love frightened her, made her feel she was losing control of herself.

  She found Luke behind the house working on the fence with hammer and nails.

  "What are you do
ing?"

  "I spotted a rotten board in the fence. I thought I'd better fix it before Max gets away. Are you up to changing into your jeans to give me a hand?"

  "Of course." She'd forgotten her tiredness, invigorated by the sight of him. "When did you get here?" He looked as if he'd been working on that fence for hours.

  "A while ago. Go get changed."

  He must have left work early to work on her fence. She didn't know what to say about that. Finally she said nothing, and let out the excited Max to join Luke in the back yard. Once she had her jeans on she joined them.

  "This should hold now. Just watch that Max doesn't start digging at the edge of the fence. Now, why don't you go have a hot tub and I'll get dinner going."

  It was nice, soaking in the tub, knowing Luke was downstairs. When she came down, fresh and scrubbed, they ate together at the little table in her kitchen—steak and mushrooms, with salad on the side. Over dinner, he told her about his mother.

  "Whatever brought them together, it should never have happened. They couldn't live together. They fought constantly. When he went on business trips, I remember her differently, laughing, always planning something for us to do. It was as if my father was a shadow on her life. When he walked into a room, she tightened up, then the sparks would start to fly."

  "And you?" It didn't sound like any sort of childhood.

  "We had a housekeeper, Mrs. Murray, and she looked after me. My father won custody in their messy divorce. She had visiting rights, but he made it very uncomfortable for her."

  A loving housekeeper could hardly make up for the fact that your parents were tearing each other apart.

  "My mother moved to Seattle and we meet for dinner a couple of times a year when I get down there."

  She cleared away the dishes when they had finished, then they worked together washing and drying, putting them away so that the kitchen was sparkling and clean.

  "Still want to fly?" he asked her as she hung the tea towel to dry.

  "Yes. Will you teach me?"

  "Tomorrow morning. I'll pick you up at seven."

  Chapter 12

  The next morning he took her up, flying across the islands, heading west. She couldn't help watching him, remembering how their first flight had been as he explained the operation of the controls to her, his voice low in her earphones. This time she listened intently, and then put her hands on the controls to feel Luke flying the plane.

  "I'll take it up high, then you can give it a try."

  He flew out over the Pacific and when they were high over the world, Luke let her fly.

  "She wants to fly, just keep your hands on the controls and feel her fly."

  When he thought she was ready, he had her put the Beaver into a gentle turn so that they turned slowly, losing height gently until they straightened out, heading back towards the islands.

  Miles offshore from the islands, he said, "Just turn a few degrees more to the left. That's it, now straighten out level. We're going to land on the beach over there."

  They flew on until they were almost at the land, then he took over the controls and brought them down on to the isolated beach. They ate the sandwiches he had packed and afterwards they explored the beach for the glass floats that sometimes washed ashore from the Japanese fishing fleet offshore.

  When they took off again, Luke let her take the controls and turn the plane homewards. As she became more comfortable with the controls, she enjoyed controlling this winged beast high above the ground. When they approached Queen Charlotte, Luke took control again but told her to keep her hands on the controls to feel him land the Beaver.

  "You're hooked," he said as they taxied towards the wharf.

  "When can we do it again?"

  "As soon as you pass your ground school test. There's a book in my bag behind the seat."

  She found the book and leafed through it. "Rudder controls, aerodynamics, weather. Will you help me with some of this—explain it to me?"

  "Of course." And he did, taking her home, sitting in her living room explaining the theory of flight to her.

  He left early that night. She had spent the whole day with him, a beautiful day, but she knew she had to be careful not to let her feelings for him get out of control. With his family background it made sense that he would keep his distance.

  Although he left early, he came the next night and in the space of a week her life had changed. Each day she came home from work and usually found Luke at her door soon after. They usually ate dinners together, spent the evening over the flight-training manual, and then went for a long walk on the beach with Max before Luke left. Weekends he took her flying, exploring parts of the islands she had never seen before.

  Bev and John dropped in one night, looking as if they had been together all their lives. Laurie and Luke had just finished dinner and were talking about a dramatic spy story they'd both enjoyed reading when the doorbell rang, Laurie opened the door to John and Bev.

  "Go on into the living room. I'll get coffee," Laurie offered.

  Bev followed her into the kitchen. "Getting serious, isn't it? He's here every night."

  "How do you know that?"

  "All Queen Charlotte knows. His truck is always here."

  "There's nothing going on." She'd learned his tastes and bought food they both liked when she did her shopping. Their evenings together were quiet and educational, but they hadn't done a thing that the whole of Haida Gwaii couldn't have watched.

  "Come on, Laurie. You broke up with Ken as soon as you met Luke. I'm not a fool." They carried the coffee back to the living room. "Much more your type than my brother," Bev whispered as they walked together down the hallway.

  The four of them talked into the small hours of the night. When John finally pleaded the need for sleep before morning, Luke stayed behind. Bev raised her brows and grinned knowingly as she said goodbye to Laurie.

  "We're going for a walk," she told Bev.

  Luke already had Max's leash and the dog's toenails scrambled on the hardwood floor in his eagerness.

  "Right," said Bev. "The dog is your cover story." She laughed and grabbed John's hand as the couple left.

  Luke and Laurie walked silently all the way to the beach. When he released Max from his leash, the dog dashed towards the water, kicking up sand.

  She closed her eyes and let her body relax, leaning back against the rocks. "I needed this. I've been so busy this week."

  "You enjoy being busy."

  She laughed, admitting the truth of that. "But I do like resting after the hectic day." With her eyes closed, she could only hear him, couldn't see him. "What about you? How was your week?"

  "Busy, too." She felt him move closer. "I spent the last two days ferrying in supplies for the new mine on Moresby Island."

  "Is that why you didn't come last night?"

  He was very close to her now. She opened her eyes and stared into his. Her lips tingled, waiting for his touch. She wanted to reach her arms out, wanted to touch him, draw him closer to her—but her arms were frozen.

  He braced his arms on the rock on either side of her and leaned towards her until only their lips touched. She lifted her head, needing to deepen the kiss; but he drew back slightly, teasing her lips with his own, sending waves of sensation through her with his teasing, stirring her body to need.

  Then he drew back, not touching her at all, and she opened her eyes. He was all around her, his arms on either side of her. She needed his body closer to hers, his arms around her. She placed her hands on his chest and felt his muscles ripple under her fingers. His eyes held hers. When her hands moved on him, did he feel that earth move?

  She slid her hands up and laced her fingers in the hair at back of his head. "Are you going to kiss me?"

  This time, his lips met hers and they fused, his body hard against hers, his lips giving her all the passion he had withheld a moment ago.

  He shifted and as her weight came against his hard, male body, she felt his desire for her.r />
  His hands caressed her back through the thick sweater she wore. She pressed herself against him, loving the feel of his chest against her breasts. When his hands slid under her sweater, she tightened her fingers in his hair and felt every inch of his body through her clothing, his kiss deeper as his hands heated the bare skin of her back.

  Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Then his fingers found her breasts, her nipples, and her own hands trembled so that she could hardly feel the button she was trying to unfasten.

  When the skin of his torso was bare to her touch he lifted her sweater and pulled it over her head.

  "Yes," he said hoarsely. Then he cupped her breasts, lifting them in his hands, bending to place a soft kiss on the white flesh of each one.

  She whispered to him, but she could hardly talk. Her hands were gripping the flesh of his chest, willing him to bend lower, to take a firm, rosy nipple into his mouth.

  "Please," she gasped.

  He spread her sweater and his jacket on the sand, making a bed for them. Then he took her in his arms again and drew her down with him, so that their bodies were together in the sand.

  When Max came bounding back, she closed her eyes in pain. "Don't stop touching me." She might die if Luke took his hands away.

  "Just wait—one minute." He bent over her and kissed her hard and deeply, holding her hips so that she could feel his need of her. When he released her and moved away, she would have waited forever for him.

  She watched the shadow of him leading the dog away, talking softly. He was a strong man with a soft voice, and soft hands on her body. He was going to be her lover. She hadn't realized that until tonight, but it had been inevitable from the moment she first saw him. No man had ever stirred this fire in her with his touch. Knowing what it would be like in his arms, she could not walk away from him.

  When he came back to her, Max was seated quietly in the distance.

  "You look nice," he told her, though he couldn't have seen anything but a shadow of her. He didn't touch her at once, but lay beside her.

  "Max won't stay there." She would be in Luke's arms again and Max would come bounding, nuzzling his head between them, wanting a pet or a stick thrown.