A Baby Between Them

by Alice Sharpe

  As soon as Reed saw Simon return, he shouldered his pack. Ella was leaning over a small white flower. “Trillium,” she said as she stood. “I tried to grow some once.”

  Just like that, she’d gained another insight. She grinned. “I have a garden. I have a house. Gray with white shutters and a red front door. If only I could remember who used to walk through the door. Maybe my father.”

  “Maybe,” Simon said. It wouldn’t be long before she realized he’d walked through her front door a hundred times.

  “Time’s a-passing, folks,” Reed said.

  Despite Ella’s insistence she be the one to carry the backpack, Simon got to it first. He took a deep breath as it settled against his back.

  Reed took the lead and for an old guy he was no slouch. Simon brought up the rear. The path was easy going for a while, meandering its way up the mountain, away from the waterfall, and then back to it. But it was soon obvious the path was more or less abandoned. There were whole sections where the wooden supports for the stepped slope had rotted away, leaving it to each of them to find footing, holding on to branches and each other at times to keep from slipping.

  Simon glanced behind them as much as he did forward. It was hard to picture Chopper or Carl climbing a mountain, but not impossible. He also did his best to put a lid on his growing annoyance with the whole situation. What in the hell was going on? Hiking? Her father couldn’t just show up at the lodge like a regular guy? How many hoops were they going to have to jump through? He hurried past Ella, who had stopped to admire a patch of small purple flowers, catching up to Reed.

  “I assume we’re crossing into Canada,” he said.

  Reed spared him a quick glance. “We might.”

  “And judging from the sleeping bags and other equipment, we’re out here for at least one night.”

  “Nothing gets past you,” Reed growled. Simon was kind of glad to hear the strained quality of the older man’s breathing. He’d hate to think a man pushing seventy had more stamina than he did.

  “So what’s in it for you?” Simon persisted.

  Reed stopped walking and turned to face him. He took off his ratty hat, wiped his brow with his sleeve and gestured down the trail. “If your job is to watch out for her, maybe you ought to go tear her away from those flowers. We’re losing daylight.” And with that, he pulled on his hat and resumed climbing.

  Simon swore under his breath as he watched Reed scramble uphill. He looked back for Ella, but she was already walking toward him.

  Another hour put them near a small pool. Looking up the hillside, Simon could see the top of the falls disappearing into thickening cloud cover. The lush vegetation served as a reminder that spring was damp this far north. He found himself hoping Thunder Lodge got its name because of some old legend and not because of the weather.

  The sound of the falls meant Reed had to raise his voice to be heard. “This is as far as we go tonight. Can’t take a chance on falling. I remembered this spot being larger, but it’s been years since I was here last and I didn’t remember the trail being so bad, either. An old man’s memory, you know.”

  Simon allowed the pack to drop to the ground, happy to stop. It had been torture having that heavy thing bounce against his back as he walked. He was either sweaty or bloody under his shirt and the truth was he didn’t really want to know which.

  As Ella unrolled their sleeping bag a few feet away, Reed started gathering fallen wood. Simon hitched his hands on his waist. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You’re not thinking of starting a fire, are you?”

  “Sure, why not? It’ll get cold soon.”

  “A fire will act as a beacon,” Simon said.

  Reed chuckled as he snapped a long branch in half across his knee. “Mr. Task, please. From Thunder Lodge, there’s one way to go on this mountain and that’s up. They don’t need to see a fire to find us if they’re back there, which I sincerely doubt. Besides, take a look around you. If we build it near the cliff wall, it’ll be invisible from down below until you practically stumble into it.”

  Simon did just that—he looked around. Reed had a point, and one glance at Ella’s wilted form and wan complexion sealed the deal. “Just make it a small one,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  Simon shook his head, but in the end, he took over fire duties while Reed produced a few freeze-dried foil-wrapped packets. As the last of the daylight fled, they sat around the small blaze eating reconstituted beef Stroganoff and drinking tea made from boiled water. Simon felt as though there were a target painted on his forehead and another on his back as he sat in the flickering light of the small blaze.

  “How much farther do we hike tomorrow?” he asked Reed. Ella had moved close to the fire, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms looped around her legs. She’d been gazing into the fire, but at the sound of Simon’s voice, she looked up. Firelight played with her features as she stared at Reed, waiting for an answer.

  “Less you know, the better,” Reed said.

  “I don’t agree,” Simon insisted. “How can I be prepared if I don’t know what’s going on?”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “We don’t even know who you are,” Simon protested.

  “I’m Reed. I’m the next link in her crazy father’s crazy chain. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry for bringing this up, but our contacts don’t seem to last long once they talk to us.”

  Reed dismissed this concern with a gesture of his hand. “I’m the most careful of the bunch.” He produced a packet of cigarettes and shook one free. “Anyone mind if I smoke?”

  “Yes,” Ella and Simon said in unison.

  He glowered at them. As he flicked the unlit cigarette into the fire, Simon pressed on. “Let’s say you have a heart attack tonight,” he said pleasantly. “Or maybe a bear eats you. How do we proceed?”

  “Keep going up the trail to the top of the falls.”

  “And my father will be there?” Ella asked.

  “Sooner or later. Stop worrying.”

  “Stop worrying?” Ella snapped. She sat up straighter. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve almost died in the past week? And how about Simon? I believe we have more than a little right to be worried.”

  Reed studied her for a second before speaking, his expression difficult to read. “Okay, okay, all I meant is we’ll keep the fire lit so the bears stay away.” He smiled and added, “And there’s nothing wrong with my damn heart.”

  “You smoke. That’s hard on a heart,” she grumbled.

  “Just one after dinner,” Reed said.

  “Why this complicated and deadly system for a man to talk to his daughter?” she persisted.

  “He’s a wanted murderer. Some people want the cash he took, some want him held accountable for his actions.”

  “Did he really kill that man and his son?”

  Reed stared at her a second before nodding.

  “And now he’s set in motion a plan that’s getting more people killed.”

  “No one anticipated all the death.”

  “Do you know the two men who are after us?” Simon asked. “Carl Baxter and a guy called Chopper?”

  Reed’s bushy eyebrows knit together over his pale eyes. “I meant to ask about that, Ella. Your own husband is threatening you?”

  “Ex-husband,” she insisted, but ruined her authority by glancing at Simon and mumbling, “At least I hope so.”

  Things fell silent for a few moments as the fire crackled. All of a sudden, Ella said, “I remember a man saying he recognized someone named Potter. It’s like it happened in a dream, though. Wait, it was in the car after they drugged me. That’s where I heard it.”

  “It must have been Chopper,” Simon said as he pictured the moment Potter and Chopper had locked gazes at the bus station. A sizzle of recognition had charged the air. He’d seen it. He’d felt it, he’d even mentioned it to Ella and then he’d forgotten all about it. “I sa
w them meet. They knew each other.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Reed demanded.

  “The other man. We just know him as Chopper.”

  “Chopper,” Reed mused. “I don’t know—”

  “Big guy,” Simon added. “Dark clothes and complexion.”

  “Very fond of his knife,” Ella added.

  Reed looked at her quickly. “What kind of knife?”

  “A long curved blade. Mean looking.”

  “A kukri?”

  “I’m not familiar—”

  Reed quickly grabbed a stick from the pile of collected firewood and sketched a knife in the loose dirt. “Like this?”

  They both leaned forward to look. He’d drawn a knife about ten inches long with a curved blade. “Yes. Very much like that,” Ella said.

  “It’s British army standard issue for the Gurkhas Unit.”

  “The what?”

  Reed shook his head as he scuffed out the line drawing he’d made in the dirt with his boot and threw the stick in the fire.

  “The Gurkhas are a military unit composed of men from northern India and Nepal,” Simon said. Narrowing his eyes, he added, “So, Reed, why does the mention of the kukri make you look like you saw a ghost?”

  Reed got to his feet so abruptly he stumbled and reached out for a fallen log to brace himself. “I’ll take first watch,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

  “You’re not going to explain, are you?” Simon persevered. “Why? You know, I looked up Ella’s father on the Internet. I know what he did, I know why he ran.”

  “So many years ago,” Reed mumbled. “Anyway, it’s impossible.”

  “What’s impossible? And sixteen years is not that long. I think you and the cops who have been acting as contacts must have all been still working together in Chicago—”

  “I will not discuss this,” Reed snapped, leveling a stare that announced question-and-answer period was over. “Flashlights in my pack, each of you take one.” He shouldered his rifle and stalked out of their tiny camp, choosing a rock at the far end of the pool on which to perch, just out of the light cast by the fire.

  Simon tore his attention from Reed’s hasty exit to find that Ella had begun cleaning up the garbage from dinner. He joined her in sealing the used packets, cups and silverware in plastic so the refuse wouldn’t attract wild animals, stowing it away to pack out with them the next morning. They went about their work silently, banking the fire, retrieving the flashlights from Reed’s pack. There wasn’t a whole lot to say, although Simon’s mind raced. Who was Chopper? Potter had recognized him and so had Reed, or at least he’d recognized the knife.

  “I have to visit the little girl’s room out in the trees,” Ella said, an urgent tone to her voice.

  “I’ll stand guard.”

  “No, that’s okay, I’m fine,” she said, and quickly grabbed her flashlight and disappeared into the trees, but he’d seen her hand fly up to cover her mouth. Morning sickness seemed to have been replaced by evening sickness.

  Eventually, they both prepared for bed and lay down next to each other in the ample sleeping bag. There was only room to lay on their sides spoon fashion, and since his back was the one resembling hamburger, he took the outside position. This meant she was curled close to him, her back to his front.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked her when he found he couldn’t get to sleep.

  She turned her head to speak to him. Her breath smelled like peppermint. “I was thinking I wished Reed would go far away so you and I could finish what we started earlier.”

  He smiled into the dark. “Sounds nice.”

  “Nice? Is that all?”

  “No, that’s not all,” he said, and inched closer. He licked her earlobe, something that had once driven her crazy, and by the way her hips moved, he was pretty sure it still did. In deference to their current situation, he limited himself to nuzzling her neck.

  “Do you miss her?” Ella whispered.

  “Miss who?”

  “The mermaid. Do you wish she were here with you?”

  “I don’t want anyone here right now but you,” he hedged, and once again chided himself. Something was going to trigger her memory. Something would bring it all back and he wanted her to understand where he’d been coming from, but that wasn’t going to happen if he didn’t find a way to level with her.

  Keep telling yourself you don’t care about her, his subconscious whispered.

  “Me, either,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “Tell me what a Saturday is like for you,” she said around a yawn.

  “You mean when I’m not working?”

  “Yeah. Just an ordinary Saturday. What do you eat for breakfast?”

  As he described fresh bagels bought at a bakery in downtown Blue Mountain, she snuggled against his chest. The top of her head was cool against his arm, her hair redolent of campfire smoke.

  “Then I work on an old BMW my dad and I are rebuilding together,” he added. “I used to listen to the radio while I worked, to a gardening show my friend does. Sometimes her show is about cooking. She changes it up week to week. I just liked hearing her voice.”

  “That sounds nice,” Ella whispered, her warm breath tickling the inside of his arm. “What next?”

  “Let’s see. Dinner, I guess. Sometimes I go out and sometimes my friend invites me over. Well, she used to. She’s a wonderful cook. Her specialty is seafood. What she can do with scallops is enough to make a man cry.”

  Ella snuggled closer. Her bottom was against his groin and it was work not letting it get to him. “You’re talking about the mermaid, aren’t you?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re making me hungry.”

  She was making him hungry, too, but not for food. He stroked her hair, ran a hand down her arm.

  As wonderful as it was to hold her, it was also deceitful. She had no idea of what she used to mean to him, what she still meant to him. Had he kind of hoped mentioning her voice on the radio and her scallops Provençal would tweak a memory? Yes, of course. After several minutes of arguing with himself over the right thing to do, he spoke.

  “I have something to tell you,” he whispered, stretching his fingers to brush the curve of her abdomen.

  It seemed to him she stopped breathing. Before she could start asking questions, he continued. “I haven’t been sure how much to tell you. Well, I admitted that once, didn’t I? I told you my cousin, the doctor, suggested I play it safe and let you remember what you could when you could? And then so much has been going on, but the truth is I was also kind of afraid. I let you believe things—well, hell, okay, I lied. Anyway, here’s the truth. Yes, you and I knew each other before you lost your memory. Back in Blue Mountain. We were lovers. Things started going wrong a couple of weeks ago. We had a fight. Oh, hell, the truth is I stormed out.”

  Her silence was deafening. On the other hand, she hadn’t pulled away, so maybe there was hope. “Ella?” he whispered. “Say something. Ask anything you want.”

  Still no response. For several seconds he held his breath until it finally dawned on him she was asleep; his confession had gone unheard.

  He considered shaking her awake, but in the end, gently kissed the top of her head instead. He’d try again tomorrow—before it was too late. Before he lost her completely.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Her father stood right in front of her, but when she reached for him, the movement of her hands dissipated his form into a mist that reshaped when she gave up trying to touch him. He had no face but it was him.

  She closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she found Carl where her father had been. He was holding a plate and she screamed. The next thing she knew, they were flying. Carl held the plate in front of him, one hand on each rim. She grabbed for it and it shattered into a million pieces.

  Tears rolled under her chin and down her blouse, between her breasts, down her belly, a virtual river of tears. She held her ha
nds up and they turned into trees—

  She awoke with a jolt.

  The weather had changed. Her hair was damp, raindrops sliding down her forehead and cheeks. Simon knelt beside her, barely visible in the dim light of predawn.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m…I’m fine,” she stammered, blinking rapidly.

  “It just started raining,” he said. “Let’s get our stuff under the trees, okay?”

  The trees. She looked over his head at the towering gray silhouettes of the trees, their boughs waving in the wind, their rustling vaguely evocative of the ocean.

  “I dreamed about my father,” she said.

  Simon paused in his task of rolling his damp sleeping bag. “Anything we can use?”

  “No, he disappeared as usual. Oh, get this, Carl made a cameo.”

  Simon’s eyebrows raised. As anything to do with Carl was creepy, she quickly added, “Don’t worry, he was just driving a plate.”

  Simon chuckled and kept working.

  The rain increased and she pulled her hood up over her hair, hustling now to get her things under some kind of cover. Simon had earmarked a grove of evergreen trees. As they deposited everything in relative dryness, Ella looked around the campsite. It didn’t take full daylight to see she and Simon were alone.

  “Where is he?” she asked as she perched her rear on a fallen tree.

  “Reed?” Simon sat down next to her. “I don’t know. He woke me up a few hours ago to take over the watch, then disappeared again.”

  She hadn’t heard Reed summon Simon, nor had she awoken when he extricated himself from the sleeping bag. She must have been out like a zombie. “He’s a hard man to figure,” she said.

  “He turned white when he heard about Chopper’s knife.”

  “True. Aren’t you kind of wondering where Chopper and Carl are? It seems too good to be true that Jack managed to stop them for good. For that matter, he said he wasn’t even going to try to stop them, just delay them.”

  “Maybe the police apprehended them,” Simon said. “Otherwise I think you could count on them being in this camp right now. Between the campfire and all our noise, this hasn’t exactly been a stealth operation.”