by Peggy Webb
Laughing and crying at the same time, Ellen ran toward the cabin. "Gigi," she called again. This time the bundle rose to its feet.
With her quilt tucked under her arm and dragging in the dirt behind her, Gigi loped toward Ellen.
Gigi happy see Ellen, the gorilla signed.
The cabin door flew open. "What's going on?" Dirk stood on the porch in a pair of cutoff jeans.
Seeing him like that, bright-eyed and tousle- haired from recent sleep, Ellen forgave his disruption of her life. She forgave his sudden appearances and abrupt disappearances. She forgave the kisses that ended too soon. She forgave the passion that was offered and then withdrawn. She even forgave his role in Gigi's escape.
"Gigi ran away," she said. Taking the gorilla by the hand, she led her back to the porch.
"To see me?" Dirk asked.
"Yes." Ellen didn't elaborate.
"I'm sorry, Ellen." He reached out to touch her face, but Gigi intervened.
Grabbing Dirk's hand, she lifted it to her face, then dropped it to sign Gigi find man. Gigi happy.
Ellen almost envied her gorilla. She felt joy in Dirk's presence, too, but she couldn't express it. There were too many barriers between them, too many secrets.
He patted Gigi's head. "I like you, too. Gigi," he said. Turning to Ellen, he added. "If I had known she was out here, I would have brought her back." He looked down at Ellen's wet shoes. "You walked through the woods?"
"I didn't know when she had escaped. I thought I might find her closer to the compound."
“Come inside. I’ll make coffee and eggs while you dry your feet." He held the door open.
"Ruth Ann's waiting. We really should get back."
But Gigi had other ideas. Grabbing Dirk's and Ellen's hands, she pulled them through the door. Gigi hungry, she signed to Ellen. Long time food none.
"It looks like I've been outvoted." Ellen said. She unzipped her bag and took out the fruit. "Gigi eat, then go home," she instructed her gorilla.
Gigi shook her head vehemently. No. Gigi stay man's home. Gigi love man.
"Problems?" Dirk asked. Even if he hadn't known the sign for no, he knew the meaning of that stubborn headshake.
"It looks like I'm dealing with a lovesick gorilla," Ellen said. "It's a pity you couldn't be a handsome ten-year-old four-hundred-pound male gorilla."
He laughed. "I qualify on only one count. I'm male."
Two counts, she thought. He was also handsome.
As he turned to the stove to start the coffeepot, she saw the jagged six-inch scar on his back. No matter how many times she saw that scar, she was always shaken by what it symbolized—danger, brute force, secrets. She wished for the power to wipe his back clean of that telltale evidence. If there were no scar, perhaps there would be no barriers.
"Ellen." She became aware that Dirk was talking to her. "I've asked you twice if you want eggs."
"No. I don't want eggs. I want to know who you are."
"The scar?"
"Yes."
"It's an old wound and an old story, Ellen."
"Tell me."
"No. It's best forgotten." He poured the coffee into two cups and brought them to the table. "Sugar?"
"I don't want sugar; I want the truth."
"No, Ellen. I won't involve you." How could he tell her that the scar was his badge of honor? How could he tell her that it represented triumph as well as danger? Danger: He felt a burst of adrenaline at the mere thought of the word. Danger coupled with challenge, the twin sirens that brought him back to his work time and again. He was silent for a moment as he gazed out the window at the serenity of Beech Mountain. What a contrast to the things he was used to seeing.
"It seems impossible that bad things exist in such a beautiful world," he said, almost to himself.
Ellen watched his eyes as he talked. He seemed to be gazing into a crystal ball that held the stories of the past as well as the mysteries of the future. Although he was sitting beside her at the table, he had gone to a place where she couldn't be, a lonely place with room for only one.
He picked up his cup and looked at her over the rim. "I care too much for you to let anything happen," he said.
"I'm a grown woman, Dirk. I don't need looking after."
"It's more than that." He reached out and covered her hand. "I wish I could—" Abruptly he released her hand. "Your coffee's getting cold."
Ellen stood up. "It's not the only thing getting cold," she said. She put a polite smile on her face and forced herself to remain on her side of the barrier. She had wasted enough emotions for one day. "Gigi's finished. Will you take us back to the compound?"
"Certainly."
The chill between them seeped into Ellen's bones and made her shiver. Dirk, too, seemed to be feeling its effects. His jaw was clenched so tight that the tiny scar was white.
Gigi was the only one who didn't suffer from the chill. She clapped her hands and turned somersaults when she found out that Dirk would be going back with them. Wrapping her quilt around her head, turban-style, she announced to Ellen, Gigi wear nice blanket hat.
The laughter broke the tension. Dirk gallantly held open the front door. "Come along, ladies. Rocinante awaits."
Gigi balked when she saw Rocinante. Toy car? she signed to Ellen.
"No, Gigi. Small car. Not toy," Ellen said, signing.
Gigi shook her head. Toy car. Gigi not ride toy car.
"What's she saying?" Dirk asked.
"She's never ridden in anything except my oversize Buick," Ellen explained. "She thinks this Mercedes is a toy car."
"Perhaps if I get in first, she'll follow," he suggested.
"Good idea." Ellen turned to her reluctant gorilla. "Man ride small car." She pointed to herself. "Ellen ride small car. Gigi ride too."
No. Gigi sat on the ground and began to pick the grass.
Ellen sat beside her. "Please, Gigi," she signed. "Big car good. Small car good too."
Small car fly? Gigi asked.
"No."
"Bleah!" Gigi stuck out her tongue.
Dirk got out of the car. "Perhaps I can persuade her."
"It's worth a try. I'll interpret."
He sat beside them on the side of the road. Ellen thought wryly that if anyone happened along to see the two of them earnestly talking to the turbaned gorilla, he would probably notify somebody with a net.
"Tell her that the car is mine," Dirk said. "Tell her I'm sad that she won't ride in my car."
Ellen looked at the mirth sparkling in his eyes. "If you want her to fall for that, you'd better look lugubrious."
He dropped his mouth at the corners. "How's that? Is that mournful enough?"
Ellen didn't have time to reply. Gigi touched Dirk's face. Man sad?
"Man sad." Ellen confirmed. "His car." She pointed to Rocinante. "Good car. Man sad Gigi not ride his car."
Gigi unwrapped the quilt from her head and solemnly draped it over Dirk's shoulders. Pointing to the gingham dog and the calico cat, she signed, Nice animals. Comfort man.
Dirk held his laughter in check as he looked at Ellen. "Is this good?"
"I'm not sure. At least she's not shaking her head now."
Gigi touched Dirk, then stood up. Good car, she signed.
"Yes, Gigi, it is a good car," Ellen signed back. "I think she's coming around," she told Dirk.
Gigi gave them both a brilliant gorilla smile and signed grandly to Ellen.
Ellen burst out laughing.
"Did we succeed?" Dirk asked.
"Too well, I'm afraid. She told me, 'Gigi drive. Make car fly.' "
He chuckled. "What do we do now?"
"I don't know. This was your idea."
"Yes. But she's your gorilla."
Ellen studied her pupil. "Well, why not?" she finally said.
"You're not suggesting what I think?"
"Look at her. She's intelligent. She's coordinated." She smiled at Dirk. "Haven't you ever taught a sweet little old lady to drive?"<
br />
"Yes. But she didn't weigh two hundred pounds, and she couldn't bend steel bars with her bare hands."
"Do you have a better idea?"
"We could walk."
"We could," Ellen agreed. She explained to Gigi that they would walk back to the compound.
Gigi sat on the ground again and stuck out her tongue. Poor Gigi. Feet hurt. She pointed to her feet and to her sad face. Poor Gigi. Tired animal gorilla. Not walk.
Dirk looked down at Gigi. "I take it she said no."
"Right."
"Hell. I've always wanted to teach a gorilla how to drive."
While Gigi was sitting on the ground pouting, Dirk and Ellen devised a plan so that she would sit between them on the front seat and be allowed to do a few simple things that would make her believe she was driving.
o0o
The dew was gone from the ground when the trio finally assembled in the toy car and started down the mountain.
With Dirk behind the wheel and Ellen instructing, Gigi turned the key in the ignition. She grunted with delight when the aging Mercedes sputtered to life. Next she investigated the radio button. Her hands moved rapidly across the dashboard as she "drove" down the mountain.
To Ellen and Dirk the three miles seemed like thirty. They arrived at the compound with the headlights glaring, the windshield wipers going, the cigarette lighter plugged in, the heater melting their feet, and Hank Williams bursting their eardrums with "Your Cheatin' Heart."
"Hallelujah!" Ellen said.
"Amen," Dirk said.
Smart animal gorilla, Gigi signed.
o0o
Ruth Ann hurried out to greet them. Ellen told her the stoiy of their trip, then briefed her about Gigi's day. "I have to go into Banner Elk and consult an expert about the fence. We have to make it escape-proof."
"Why seek an expert in Banner Elk when you have one right here?" Dirk asked after Ruth Ann and Gigi had gone inside.
"You know about fences?"
"Yes."
She didn't doubt him. It was just one more tiny piece of the puzzle, one more scrap of information to help her solve the mystery of the man.
She looked at his bare chest, bronzed by the sun, at the small scar on his jaw, at his amber-lit black eyes. A sensible voice of caution inside her said to send him home. It told her that having him around after all that had happened between them would be dangerous. The analytical, scientific side of her was yelling Help! as the romantic side of her longed to hide in the shelter of his arms.
"Stay and help me," she said simply. She wondered if she was asking for help with the fence or for help with her heart.
o0o
Two hours later Dirk and Ellen stood beside the heavier chain-link fencing and steel crossbeams that had been sent up from Banner Elk.
"I assume Gigi has another place to sleep while the fence is being replaced," Dirk said.
"Yes. She'll come inside to her winter quarters." Ellen looked at the heavy mass of fencing. "How long will this job take?"
"Two days if I do it alone. We can be finished by late this afternoon if you want to find somebody to help me."
"There's no need for you to stay now, Dirk. I’ll get somebody else to put up the fence." Even as she said it, she knew that finding a crew to do a job like this might take days.
"No, Ellen. I want to stay."
Her heart flipped over, but the tiny voice of reason told her not to make too much of his statement. "Then I'll help you."
He laughed. "Are you handy with a hammer and a post-hole digger?"
"I can do anything that I make up my mind to do. With me as your assistant, we probably won't finish today; but that's okay. Being confined to her winter quarters on a beautiful summer night will be a good punishment for Gigi.''
A camaraderie developed between them as they worked side by side in the glaring sun. Dirk's admiration for Ellen grew as she tackled the heavy work with the same intensity that he had seen her apply to her research. Sweat trickled down the side of her face, and damp tendrils of hair clung to her forehead.
"Where were you when I was in Milan?" he asked.
"Cutting my teeth on a claw hammer," she teased. "What were you doing in Milan?"
"Helping an order of Dominican nuns build a fence."
"You were in a convent!"
"Yes. Posing as a nun."
"Apart from other obvious differences, didn't your beard shadow give you away?"
"The sisters were hiding me. They made up a tragic story about how I had been disfigured by falling face-first into a stewpot. They called me Sister Grendel."
"Who were you hiding from?"
"The best I can remember, it was an irate girlfriend." Up until that point he had been telling the truth. He decided that there was no need to spoil the day by mentioning organized crime. "Hey," he said lightly. "Are you going to hog the nails?"
"Hog the nails? Now where did a dyed-in-the- wool Connecticut whale watcher pick up an expression like that?"
"From your Uncle Vester. Remember Huck Henry's infamous card game?"
"How could I forget?"
"Uncle Vester accused Huck of hogging all the aces."
"If I know Huck, he probably was."
"Right. He had two of them up his sleeve."
Ellen wiped her face with the back of her arm. "Do we ever take a break from this fence building, or do you intend for me to expire on the spot?"
"I thought you were the boss."
"Well, why didn't you say so before?" She threw down her hammer and cocked her head to one side. "I’ll race you to the refrigerator." She was ahead of him like a flash. "Last one up the hill is a rotten egg," she called.
He watched her run, enjoying the sight of her trim hips and limber legs in motion. And then he put down his tools. He sprinted past her with long, loping strides and was leaning casually against a cedar post on the porch when she arrived, flushed and panting.
"Lady," he said, affecting a Southern drawl, "if you aim to keep up with me, you'd better get in shape."
Tossing her head and propping her hands on her hips, she spoke indignantly. "Desist with the insults, sir, or I’ll have my pappy horsewhip you." She was grinning as she joined his game.
"Can it wait until after the lemonade?"
She pretended to be in deep thought. "I fancy it can," she finally told him.
He laughed. "Fancy indeed." Grabbing her hand, he pulled her through the door. "Come on, rotten egg, before I die of thirst."
The bantering continued as they poured tall glasses of the ice-cold lemonade and wiped their sweaty faces on a dish towel.
"What's this?" Dirk asked. The dish towel was stenciled with the words HAVE YOU KISSED THE COOK TODAY? "Where's the cook?" He pretended to search the kitchen, then suddenly pulled Ellen into his arms. "Ah, there's the cook." He brushed his lips, still cold from the lemonade, against her forehead. "Nice cook," he said, imitating Gigi. "Pretty damn good carpenter too. Make hammer fly."
If he hadn't said those ridiculous things, she probably would have swooned against his sun- warmed bare chest and died of happiness. She considered it a stroke of luck that he released her when he did. Otherwise she might have pulled him down to the kitchen floor and devoured him. She decided that animal magnetism or physical attraction or whatever it was had made Dr. Ellen Stanford take leave of her senses.
Dirk took her hand and playfully tugged her out the door. "Come, my pretty pet. Your hammer awaits."
"Slave driver," she said. Love, a tiny voice in her head corrected her as she followed him into the sunshine. Whatever it was had a name, and that name was love.
"No." She didn't know that she had spoken the soft denial aloud.
"Did you say something?" he asked.
"I said. I’ll race you down the hill." She pulled her hand out of his and ran ahead. She couldn't bear to touch him another minute, knowing that he was so far away, separated from her by secrets and invisible fences.
He sensed the change in her,
and he suspected that she was struggling with the same feelings he had hidden under their light banter. A constraint settled on them as they worked. From time to time Dirk's hammer stilled as he watched Ellen. Although she appeared to be totally involved with the task at hand, she didn't fool him. He saw the tension in her face, felt the strong pull of passion between them.
He shouldn't have stayed: He knew that now. But it was too late. He had gone beyond the point of no return. The feelings he had turned loose in Lawrence County had grown beyond his control. He had to have her. It was that simple. That it would be just a summer affair no longer mattered. That he would walk away with her image burned forever into his heart was of no consequence. For a short time Dr. Ellen Stanford would be his. They would have their brief pleasure and handle their parting as two mature adults.
He knew Ellen. He knew the slant of her cheekbones and the tilt of her head. He knew the red- gold of her hair in the sunshine and its fiery halo in the moonlight. He could close his eyes and feel the exact shape of her body. He had seen her joy and laughter, her dignity and strength. He knew that she could handle anything, even good-bye.
Chapter Eight
"Let's call It a day." Dirk put his hammer into the toolbox and stretched. The four o'clock sun was gleaming on his sweat-damp chest. As Ellen glanced up, she decided that Dirk made the male models in suntan ads look positively puny.
"Let's," she agreed. She set her hammer into the toolbox. "I suppose you'll be going back up the mountain."
"It would be more convenient if I stayed here until the work is finished."
She bought time by brushing her hair off her forehead. Was this the same man who always went out of his way to avoid being around her? What had happened? "There's an extra room in the main building and also an empty cabin on the compound," she said. "We have overnight guests sometimes—relatives, reporters, visiting scientists."
"The cabin sounds perfect." He looked down at his bedraggled cutoff jeans. "I'll go back to Tony's and toss some things in a bag." He held his hand, palm up, toward her. "Come with me, Ellen."
She looked first at the hand, then deep into his eyes. The amber light was there again, the same light that had beckoned to her in Lawrenceburg. She knew instinctively that the outstretched hand was more than an invitation to go with Dirk for a change of clothes. She could see it in his eyes. But she had to hear the words. She had to be very sure that what had happened on Uncle Vester's farm would not happen again on Beech Mountain. This time there was no white stallion to carry her away from rejected love.
