by Sue Gibson
"Lily? You seem ... preoccupied. Are you sure you're up to this?"
Her blond hair tumbled against her cheek, shadowing her face as she nodded her head. "I promised you a picnic and here we are," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes.
Apprehension pumped his pulse and he abruptly switched gears. "I heard from Southerland. Looks like you won him over with your presentation. He was really impressed with your work. Your vision."
She lifted an eyebrow. "He said that?"
Encouraged, he continued, "He recommended you meet with LaPierre too. He wouldn't have done that without good reason. I knew your passion would blow him away."
"Well, I don't know about that," she murmured, sealing the lid of the macaroni salad with the tip of her finger. "Sometimes all the fire in the world isn't enough."
Why did he get the impression they were talking about two different things?
She turned to face the lake. Her golden freckles, quickly becoming his most favorite feature, stood out against her pale skin.
Was she sick? He shrugged out of his jacket. "You look cold. Here, take this," he said and draped it around her shoulders.
Thanking him with a perfunctory nod, she thrust her hands into the jacket's deep pockets.
"Achhh," she screamed, ousting a furry lump from the side-slit pocket and flinging it toward the lake.
"Clarence!" He dove for Emma's stuffed animal as it ricocheted off the granite and bounced to the ledge. Emma without Clarence wasn't something he wanted to contemplate.
Finally, a practical use for the island's prickly juniper bushes, he thought, as a branch snagged Clarence's ear. Ethan plucked the worn teddy bear from the plant and jammed it into his pack.
"Emergency averted," he said, a stain of color warming his face as he dropped to the blanket.
Still shaking, Lily glanced toward the pack and back to his face, confusion and fear clouding her eyes. "Ethan?"
He knew what he needed to say to ease her mind about the stuffed toy, and that he'd already waited far too long. But the story was stored down deep-in a place he didn't want to visit.
His gaze slipped past her huddled form to the end of the bay. Even from here, he could make out the Hideaway's weathered sign rocking in the wind. And he decided if anyone understood family loyalty, it was Lily Greensly.
He cleared his throat and began, "There's someone in my life you need to know about"
Even though Callie's offhand remark had tipped her off, his words sent goose bumps torpedoing up her arms and she shrank deeper into his jacket, protecting herself from both the cold and his words.
"I have a twin sister. Emma" He nodded toward his backpack. "I must have put Clarence, her stuffed toy, into my pocket this morning when I was saying good-bye"
Struggling to make sense of his words, Lily clung to her anger. "Sister? Twin?"
She knew he had to be in his early thirties. She stared into his face and waited for the truth.
"It's a long story, Lily. One I should've told you sooner, but when your every move ends up in the society pages, you become ... guarded"
Having a sister wasn't news, Lily knew, so why the caution? She nodded for him to go on. "I'm listening."
His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on his bent knees. "I work hard to keep my private life private. Emma is off-limits to everyone except my closest friends."
Obviously his assistant, Callie, fell into that category. The needle-end of jealousy pricked her heart.
He paused for a breath. "Emma has Down syndrome and needs lots of care" His eyes searched her face for a reaction. "But mostly she just needs security. Love"
Her fingers unclenched, her head tipped to the side as his words soothed the fear Callie's words had created.
"Emma's your sister," Lily repeated. "And she lives with you." She wondered briefly about his parents.
His behavior began to make sense. He confided in Emma, he had long lunch dates with Emma.
She leaned in, longing to offer comfort, to touch him. His jacket slipped unnoticed from her shoulders, the off-shore breeze now invigorating, fresh. Her intuition had been right. He was one of the good guys.
She spun to face him. "Tell me more. I've always wished I had a brother or sister. And a twin, no less!"
Ethan looked relieved. "What do you want to know?"
She asked the obvious. "Why is she with you?"
His voice took on an edge. "Have you ever seen a child's face when they've been told their mother has left? Isn't coming back?"
Like a spray of icy water, his words caught her off guard and she shifted against the hard rock.
"Our mother took off when we were six. Father was busy building his hotels. Never had any time for us. He was really angry ... embarrassed maybe, when she left. Your guess would be as good as mine," he added bitterly.
"We had no one," he continued. "Father wasn't around. Just kept throwing money at the paid help" His voice was stronger now, but still tinged with bitterness.
"Eventually, he separated us. Emma and I. Put her in an institution and enrolled me in a prep school. After school and nearly every day for the next eleven years, I went to Emma's hospital.
"The day we came of age, I accessed my trust fund and brought Emma home. For the last fourteen years we've shared my condominium."
Lily shook her head, his story almost incomprehensible. Her hand reached to his face. Gently, she stroked his cheek, her thumb sliding along the line where the beginnings of his beard met his lightly tanned skin. The hard ridge of tightened muscle softened under her touch. He loosened his hold from his knees and placed his hand over hers, drawing it down and tucking it against his middle.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I know telling me couldn't have been easy"
He turned to face her directly, as if anxious now to explain everything. "I've told Emma about you. About your job, your boat," he slapped his palm against the granite, "Osprey Island, even"
He hitched his jacket up around her thin shoulders again and pulled her closer and went on. "I think looking after Emma actually made our loss a little easier."
"But you were just a child yourself," she spouted in his defense. Her childhood had been filled with days of skipping rocks and nights of dreaming of mermaids and princesses ...
"It probably was the impetus for the success of my career." He spoke calmly now.
Still, Lily wanted to wrap her arms around him, take away the pain.
"I needed to be sure I'd always have the money to keep Emma with me. Our father picked up the tab for the institution, of course, but when I brought Emma home, against his better judgment, she became my responsibility."
"How could he be so cold-hearted," she blurted out.
"After Mother left, he just couldn't cope"
Pinpricks of tears stung her eyes and she searched for the words to express her tumbling emotions. Only trite platitudes came to mind.
"I'm sorry for you and Emma," she finally whispered.
Ethan pointed upward to a large circling bird. "Now enlighten a city-slicker, Miss Greensly, is that a hawk or a crow?" And she knew this particular conversation was over.
They sat shoulder to shoulder on the high rock and listened to the lapping waves.
No wonder he was desperate to own this island, Lily realized. His ambition came straight from his gut.
She squinted toward the opposite shore. There had to be another location for his helicopter pad.
She was perfect, he decided. Any child of hers would be cherished, protected. No matter what.
Who was he to stick a noisy helicopter pad in Lily's paradise? He looked across the bay's blueblack expanse to the Nirvana, and for a moment almost hated the dazzling structure he'd commissioned.
He filled his lungs with lake air and braced for a reaction. Nothing. He carefully drew in a second breath, drawing the air down deep. Not even a tickle. His shoulders shifted back, Lily was right. Her lake really could work magic.
The fact that L
ily was still unattached was amazing, he thought. This Doug character, the rat Lily's father had told him about, was a fool. With or without her sight, Lily would always be light years too good for that idiot.
By the time Doug realized his mistake, Lily would be long gone, he thought with satisfaction. Happily married to some lucky guy. Her adorable blond-haired kids fishing for perch off this very rock.
He turned and suddenly she was in his arms. He didn't remember how she got there and it didn't matter. She was in his arms.
He tugged her closer to his chest. Intoxicated by her flowery fragrance, he sank his fingers into the corn husk silk of her hair and drew in the sweet smell. Cradling the back of her neck with his hand, he tilted her face up to his. Eyes as blue as the sky shone back. His lips moved to graze her eyelids, to caress the tip of her nose, and finally to settle on her mouth. Raspberry punch sticky lips joined eagerly with his, and soon he knew only the sweet taste of Lily.
He murmured into her neck, "I know it's been hard to trust me. Especially after what happened with your fiance. But ..."
Lily stiffened in his embrace. "Doug?" she spoke hesitantly. "You know about Doug?"
Her arms loosened their hold and dropped from his neck. He wanted his words back, but it was way too late.
"Let me guess. Dad told you about Doug"
Her irritated tone spoke volumes.
"The night of the barbecue, when your father and I were by the shore, he told me why your engagement ended and that Doug was a self-centered twit. A warning for me, I presumed."
She clamped her hands over her face. "Oh no." She continued to speak through a crack in her fingers, "You and I had only just met. You must have thought Dad was a crazy man"
He gently pulled her hands from her face. "That's not what I thought"
She looked at him expectantly. "What did you think?"
"I thought"-he placed his arms under her knees and scooped her onto his lap-"that I could respect a man who spoke his mind. That I admired a father who protects his family." He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. "Even then, after only knowing you for a few days"-he dropped kisses on her closed eyelids-"I'd decided that Doug was the one that must be blind."
Her arms crawled back around his neck and she rested her head against his chest. Lulled by the rhythmic beating of his heart, she quietly assessed this new information.
He knew there was a chance she might lose her sight someday. He'd always known. She traced a finger along his jawline. It was strong, determined.
He'd worked hard for years to support and protect his sister. When it came to love and family he didn't require perfection.
She looked to his eyes for the reassurance she needed to open her heart, to let the mistrust seep away.
She smiled, confidence swelling her heart, when he took her hands and grazed them softly with his lips.
Ethan Weatherall would never hurt her.
Lily directed the runabout south, toward the far end of the lake.
Ethan had returned to Toronto for his Friday night dinner with Emma, promising with a tender kiss to be back in two days, just in time for their first official date, the Friends of Loon Lake fundraiser dance.
Her father hadn't mentioned the impending sale of the lodge again, and Lily read his silence as a positive sign. Although she suspected her father had now shared Henry Faulkner's grim forecast with her mother.
Now, each evening after supper, her parents walked the trails that meandered through the spruce forest that backed the Hideaway. Hand in hand they visited their favorite landmarks, usually ending their walks lakeside, ensconced in the Adirondack chairs.
When she was a little girl, Lily often had begged for her mother to retell the story of how the handsome Jared Greensly had proposed marriage while escorting a besotted Marion Burrows through that very forest.
She straightened her shoulders. The Greensly family wasn't going anywhere. If she could generate money for marine research, surely she could figure out how to hang on to the family home.
She steered the boat toward the narrows, just off Turtle Point, and cut the motor. She squinted into the high sky. Perfect weather, she decided, and reached for the bobbing red buoy. With practiced ease she attached a shiny aquatic gauge to the lower portion. With the four gauges in place, the water would be monitored twenty-four/seven for harmful toxins and rising phosphorous levels.
"Thank you, Mr. Southerland," she said as she clamped the final gauge to its buoy. His generous donation had already made a difference. And promoting her project hadn't been nearly as hard as she feared.
In fact, she was actually looking forward to the meeting with Mr. LaPierre, the restaurateur Mr. Southerland had suggested she approach. This second candidate had suggested they meet in Montreal the day after the fund-raiser dance. She should bring her research notes and Dr. Nesbitt's endorsement of the program, he'd said.
A tingle raced up her spine in anticipation of the outcome.
It would appear the elite of the business weren't all cutthroat capitalists after all. She'd certainly been wrong about Ethan.
But the trip to Montreal would steal valuable time from her research, not to mention her guiding schedule, she'd lamented to her father.
Time well spent, he'd reminded her, if she managed to secure a second philanthropist's attention.
She paused, the outboard's start cord wrapped tightly in her fist. If things went her way, she thought giddily, she could be off to Halifax or Vancouver next.
Who knows, perhaps at some point she could organize a demonstration of equipment, show slides and speak to a group of potential investors right here on Loon Lake. Mmm, a helipad near the Nirvana might not be such a bad idea after all, she considered. It certainly would make her fundraising job easier.
She scanned the landscape to the south and east. The unoccupied private cottage lots were all far too narrow to accommodate a landing pad.
She groaned, prompting a clutch of partridge to flutter from their hiding spot under the shore's thick underbrush.
At least if the pad was on Osprey Island it wouldn't intrude on anyone's space. And to be honest, not even the Osprey returned anymore to nest in the branches of the island's only remaining tree.
What did Ethan's offer say about noise control? Something about the company helicopter being equipped with a high-tech, quieter exhaust system? She'd been so angry that night, she'd not taken the time to absorb the details.
But the ridiculously high offer, she remembered.
More than enough to secure the future of the Hideaway. To send the creditors packing. To fix up the cottages, buy a couple of new boats.
Uneasiness crept into her stomach. Her father's optimistic words about money falling from the sky weren't so far-fetched after all.
She yanked on the motor's pull-cord and swung the boat around, gunning for Osprey Island.
Carefully navigating the rocky perimeter of the island, she circled it again and again. A Tarzan rope, frazzled with age, still dangled from a half dead spruce branch. Blackened patches of soot dotted the rocks, marking past fires lit by three generations of Greensly guides as they'd prepared shore lunches of pickerel and tea biscuits.
Cold tears traced down her cheeks as she recalled her last picnic, five years ago, with Grandpa Greensly. They'd polished off egg salad sandwiches and chocolate cupcakes and talked for hours about her move to the university's student dormitory. He'd been so happy when she told him she'd decided to be a marine biologist.
She swiped the tears away with the back of her hand. Grandpa would understand. He'd never stand by and let the Hideaway be sold to strangers. Not if there was anything he could do to save it.
Before she could second-guess her decision, she headed the boat for Greensly Bay. Hidden in the bottom drawer of her dresser was Ethan's offer to buy the island. If she signed it and sent it by courier today he might even arrive for the dance with a check in hand.
She could hardly wait to see the joy
on her parents' faces when they realized they wouldn't be moving into one of Buttermilk Falls' cookie-cutter homes.
She wouldn't tell them though, until the deal went through. Her stubborn, old-fashioned father would never let her sell the island to save the Hideaway. He considered finances his responsibility. But it was time he realized that she wasn't a kid anymore and could take on the privilege of preserving the Greensly homestead. And she knew she could count on her mother to back her up.
And as for Ethan, it was better to let the document speak for itself. She would behave as a proper, seasoned executive and separate their business dealings from their personal relationship.
Mr. Ethan Weatherall. You've been summoned to England," Callie announced in her best imitation of a royal Brit. She waved a printout of his father's e-mail through the air as she swiveled her chair to face her boss. "I've booked you on a flight leaving at three o'clock."
He groaned and snatched the paper from her manicured fingertips. Back in the office for less than an hour and the pace of his day had accelerated with warp speed.
He'd hoped to get home for a few hours before dinner and spend some time with Emma before heading out to eat. He could hardly wait to see her face when he told her she would be joining him on his next visit to Loon Lake.
He focused on the e-mail message. Ethan, he read, I closed the deal with the Burtons. I need you here ASAP to sign off. I'll have a car waiting for you at Heathrow.
No pleasant sign-off, Ethan noted wryly. No use wasting niceties on the family. Gotta save those time suckers for people you need to impress.
He forked his fingers through his hair. In anticipation of his return trip to Loon Lake, he'd already asked Callie to delegate most of the routine stuff to Trey Sullivan, his right-hand man. Trey was chomping at the bit, anxious to move up in the company, to prove himself to the boss. The critical stuff, he'd deal with himself on the plane. The decks were cleared, so to speak. But now, Emma would have to wait. Again.
His father had been working on the Burton merger for months. The deal was worth millions. And as head of Weatherall's Canadian division, he had no choice but to get over to England and sign the thing.
