by Rita Hogan
“And how was it? Did mother nature cooperate?”
“She did. Do you have time to see some of what I’ve taken?”
Landon looked at his watch. “Were you planning on traveling into Villa La Angostura when we dock later this morning?”
Brooke nodded. “It’s hard for me to resist a new place. I always wonder what shot I’ll miss if I don’t go.”
There was a pensive light in his gaze. “Is that what keeps you motivated? Hope for the next moment that will take your breath away, forever captured in the eye of your lens?”
She glanced openly at Landon for what seemed like an eternity, as if she didn’t know what to say. “I never quite thought about it in that way. I suppose it’s partly true, but more than the next memorable moment, my dreams and goals are what keep me going.”
“Do you care to share them with me sometime?”
“Someday,” came her steady reply.
He reached for his coffee cup, which was now brimming with the hot black liquid. “A rain check it is then. If you don’t mind some company into town, I’d be happy to show you some sights that are off the beaten path.”
Brooke smiled. “You make it difficult for me to refuse such an offer.”
Shrugging, Landon replied, “Chalk it up to years of boardroom maneuvers and tactics. I knew they’d come in handy at some point, when I wasn’t in a suit and tie.”
Landon enjoyed hearing her laugh. It did something to him, restoring all the stolen years his tragic mistake had taken away from him. His thoughts sobered as he realized it wasn’t possible, merely a fantasy. It was hopeless to try and recover the innocence of days past. They were lost to him forever.
Forcing his dark thoughts aside, he said with a smile, “If I’m going to spend the day with you, I must hurry and eat so I can get some work done before we dock. Have you ordered yet?”
The pair enjoyed a nice breakfast and agreed to meet on the upper deck at eleven when the ship anchored.
An hour later, Landon finished the last of his pressing phone calls. He began working on a report to be presented to the board of directors but was unable to concentrate. After several attempts, he dropped his pen on the black leather desk blotter and looked toward the clock. He had an hour before it was time to meet Brooke on deck for their excursion.
Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes in weariness. All night and this morning, Landon had been consumed with thoughts of kissing her. He knew he had to stop. The open wound in his heart reminded him of how futile his imaginings and wishes were. The tormented reminder he had felt the night before was increasing with every thought of Brooke. Would the pain become so unbearable that he would no longer have the strength to cope?
When he thought about what the future held for him with no one but family to love and no children of his own, it caused him to crumble on the inside. Before seeing Brooke, he thought he could manage; but in one short week everything had changed. There was an inexplicable, iron-clad hold she had on him that he was desperate to shake. Why was he unable to forgive himself long enough to open his heart and life to another?
Last night, while in the lounge with Brooke and Gaston, he had remembered the conversation he and Natasha had after Isabella was born. His sister had been right about what he desired. For a brief moment on that long ago afternoon, he had felt a spark of hope. Sadly, the spark had failed to spurt into a full-blown fire. Struggling to stay alive, it flickered with frailty before disappearing forever.
Landon never should have offered to take her into town. He had been weak. Standing to retrieve a bottle of water from the compact fridge, he made his decision. When the cruise was over, he would wish Brooke Johnson well and steer clear of her for the remainder of her stay in Patagonia. Somehow he would do whatever it took to forget her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The day was lovely and warmer than normal for spring. A light jacket was all that was needed and soon, when the late morning sun made its zenith, all outer garments would no longer be necessary.
The sight of her took Landon’s breath away. Brooke’s black hair was swept up in a twist, revealing her shapely face and slender neck. The sun caused her smooth pale skin to glow even brighter. In the natural light, he could make out the subtle freckles that kissed the bridge of her nose and cheeks. As he approached where she stood at the railing, he admired the dark denim Capris and the long-sleeved lavender knit shirt she wore. Brooke had already discarded her jacket.
“Do you have sunscreen?” he asked as he held out his hand toward her bag with an offer to carry it for her.
She entrusted him with her camera equipment, while thanking him for his offer to burden himself with the load. “I do have some. I never leave home without it. The sun wreaks havoc on my skin if I’m not careful.”
“Good. Shall we?”
Nodding, Brooke followed Landon as he led her off the boat. Within moments he managed to hail a cab. She looked at him with a quizzical expression.
“To travel the road not taken in Villa La Angostura ironically requires a vehicle, preferably a car.” Landon couldn’t resist referencing one of his favorite poems The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost. “We’ll be sure to do some touristy stuff later, but I have to show you the best thing about this area.”
When they were seated side by side in the back of the cab, Landon spoke to the driver in Spanish, giving him directions to the place he wished to take Brooke. When he returned his attention to her, he allowed his eyes to linger upon her. “We haven’t spoken much about your stay. I know it’s only been a week, but I hope it’s been a fruitful one.”
“More than you know. I spent the earlier part shopping, banking, and finding a good camera store. When the cruise is over, I’ll begin trekking all over the immediate area for photos. When I leave the resort for the farm stay, I’ll branch out even farther.” Glancing out of her window, she added, “I thought the northern part of the United States and Canada were beautiful, but I think this part of the world has pulled ahead by a nose.” Brooke turned to face Landon once again. “How long have you lived here in Patagonia?”
“Nearly twelve years. I agree it is stunning. I like to imagine God bending over the world and kissing this corner of the earth, pleased with how beautiful it turned out. Traveling to many different places, I have found the splendor of this land to be unparalleled.”
“You really do love it here.” There was a hint of a surprise in her comment.
Landon nodded. “I’m sure as much as you do your home.”
A flicker of sadness touched her dark brown eyes. Mesmerized by the emotion, he couldn’t resist briefly touching her cheek. “You are sad thinking of home. Is there a man there under the Montana sky who brings such sorrow to your face?”
Brooke didn’t attempt to push away the dolefulness she felt. “No, there is no one.” She turned to look out the window, watching as the scenery passed. Without looking at him, she asked, “How about you? Why is a man like you still single?”
Landon thought of all the things he could say, all the excuses. Rather he chose to speak the truth. “There is nothing for me to give, and I am not a selfish person who desires only to take.”
Brooke drew a quick intake of breath as she turned her gaze from the window. “If you are selfless then wouldn’t you have much to give?”
Shaking his head, he forced himself to maintain eye contact. “I wish it were true. When pieces of yourself are missing, forever lost, what remains is no longer good enough to give to another.”
It was Landon’s turn to peer out the window. He had said too much.
They were silent for the rest of the ride as they traveled to the outskirts of Villa La Angostura where the Arrayanes National Park lay.
When the car came to a stop, Landon paid the driver before making his way toward Brooke with the camera bag.
She was admiring the view. “I’m impressed, Landon.” Reaching for the bag he held, she began to unzip it. “Give me a minute to set up my camera
and lens.”
Forty-five minutes later and already close to a hundred shots taken, Landon knew the moment Brooke heard the roar of the water in the distance. “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.
Gripping the camera with both hands, she looked at him for a response. Landon smiled. “Take a hold of my hand. This view can be very treacherous, thus the reason I refer to it as the road not taken.”
She placed her hand in his. “I know what is on the other end of the roaring water and again, Robert Frost had the right idea.” She quoted the last verse of his poem:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Landon stopped in amazement. “You’re a fan of Robert Frost?” He tenderly squeezed her hand.
“The poem has been my muse as a photographer. When I have hiked three miles halfway up a mountain pass, exhausted and spent, those are the words I say to myself over and over. When I reach the top, I know it made all the difference.”
Overcome with feelings he did not want, Landon lifted the back of Brooke’s soft slender hand to his lips. When he met the smoothness of her skin, his eyes closed and remained shut as his mouth lingered. When he lifted his head, he didn’t look at her, afraid of what she might see. He simply turned and continued to lead the way toward the running water.
Only when they arrived did he glance her way. The look of awe and wonder on her face was a sight in and of itself, one Landon wished he could capture forever.
There were no words to speak at the sight of the cascading waterfall tumbling from the crevices of the mountain into a large pool of water below them. Peering down about two hundred feet into the great pond, they could see the tops of evergreen and deciduous trees surrounding the bright blue lake.
“Is that a cave I see?” Brooke asked in between taking shots, pointing to what looked like the mouth of a rock shelter etched into the side of the mountain.
“It is, but not a very deep one. It only goes in about four hundred feet.”
With the camera already held in front her, she resumed taking photo after photo. “I have to come back here. Is there a way to make it to the cave? I would love to take pictures from inside looking out toward the fall.”
“There is a way, and this isn’t the only waterfall.”
Brooke lowered the camera. “I have to come back for at least two days then.”
Landon could have offered to bring her back; he wanted to make the suggestion, but he remembered the decision he had made earlier in his office. “I can recommend a good guide for you.”
Had he seen a slight look of regret in her eyes?
“That would be great. Thank you. I think I could stay here forever.”
“Me too,” he said in a quiet voice.
As the day grew long, Landon eventually took Brooke into the heart of Villa La Angostura to enjoy some of the sites and activities.
The pair lunched on street food, including beef and Neapolitan empanadas. The fried pies were especially good with the green chimichurri sauce the vendor served alongside them. After consuming the scrumptious savory pastries they shared a cup of yerba maté, a brewed drink from the leaves of the dried yerba maté plant. Theirs was served with honey and milk.
“Do you like the drink?” Landon asked before taking a sip.
“It is different, but I do like it. I can see why it is very popular. The sharing from the same straw and cup is interesting.”
He handed her the gourd shaped disposable cup so she could take another drink. “No health altering germs, I promise. Down the street is a vendor who sales garrapinada. You’re not allergic to peanuts are you?”
Brooke shook her head.
“Good, because I would hate to see you miss out on garrapinada while in Villa La Angostura.”
The first bite of the peanut, vanilla, and sugar caramel mixture was always the best. He closed his eyes, appreciating the wonderful taste. When he opened them, he saw Brooke looking at him with a smile on her face.
“Does Gaston approve of your choice of street food?”
Landon gave a hearty laugh at her wit.
“Gaston approves of street food.”
“I can see why—these peanuts are incredible!”
“I’m glad you like them. Let’s walk a little further up the street. There is a church you might want to photograph.”
Brooke was more drawn to the neatly tended cemetery than to the white stone building with a bell tower.
Landon stood on the other side of the white picket fence and watched as Brooke slowly made her way down the rows of grave markers. She didn’t stop until she came to a statue of a mother with her child. Gently she touched the face of the little girl before glancing at the words engraved in the hard stone. Wiping her face, she made her way back toward him.
Moisture lingered in the corner of her eyes.
“The cemetery is beautiful, but you didn’t take any photos.” Landon remarked.
It may not have been stated as a question, but Brooke chose to give him an answer. “Some things are too sacred for me to capture in still life.” She turned to the neatly tended space. “Death anchors this plot of land, but life surrounds it, constantly in motion so that the dead never truly die. Photographing this scene would distill the life that ebbs and flows between the headstones, the trees, and the streets of the world beyond this place.”
Landon was moved by her words and wondered at the underlying meaning. “Have you ever lost someone you loved, Brooke?”
Her eyes filled with tears as she nodded, but it was evident to Landon that she wasn’t interested in talking about whom or when.
“How about you, Landon? Have you ever known the deep bottomless sorrow of losing someone you love?”
He should have expected the question. It was a natural response to the one he had asked. Shaking his head, he answered, “No, I have not.” The only person I’ve lost is me when I destroyed the life of another, the suffering thought crept into his mind.
Forty-five minutes later, Landon was relieved to see they were approaching the marina. Soon, they would be onboard The Absolution. The day in Villa La Angostura had been filled with beautiful moments, each of them tainted by the emotional upheaval left in their wake. He needed time to himself. One more day, he told himself, and he would be free of Brooke Johnson.
A short while later, Landon lay stretched out on his bed, staring at the wood-paneled ceiling of his state room. Instead of escaping the emotional quake brought on by the day, he nursed it like a wounded animal. Brooke’s words at the cemetery haunted him.
He, a broken man, was not among the living she spoke about at the cemetery. Instead, he was caught in the still life Brooke refused to photograph, and he felt powerless to remove himself from the portrait. It was as if the death of Jacob Nelson invaded every pore of his being. It wasn’t the man himself who took up the space; it was the tragic mistake.
Sometimes when he thought about the “what ifs,” Landon wanted to scream at the top of his lungs in despair. What if he had accepted Jacob’s words about Landon’s regard for Olivia and then set out to show him he had changed? What if he had asked to see the brother’s new Mustang instead of challenging him to a race? What if he had befriended the young man that day? What if . . .? What if . . .?
Close to exploding with anger, Landon sat up on the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his legs before placing his head on his hands.
“Why can’t I find forgiveness?” he desperately implored to no one but himself.
The ringing of the phone jarred his senses.
Taking a few deep breaths, Landon picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Landon, it’s Brooke. Am I interrupting?”
Taking a deep steadying breath, he replied, “No, this is fine. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, it is. In
fact, I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner on my balcony. I don’t feel like crowds this evening. It’s cool outside, but there is enough time to enjoy the fresh air before it turns too cold.”
Landon knew he should say no. It had always been easy to walk away from other women, but this time it was different. Already he had crossed emotional boundaries with Brooke that were making it difficult for him to do what he knew was right. Playing with the fire that burned inside of him would only lead to more pain and suffering. He wasn’t sure if he could handle much more.
His mind was forming an excuse, but his mouth was saying, “That sounds great. What time should I arrive?”
“Will half an hour do? The sun will be going down soon. My room faces west and it would be lovely to watch.”
“Half an hour it is.”
“Terrific! I’ll see you then.”
When Landon hung up the phone, he walked to the bathroom to flush water over his face. With droplets of moisture dripping from his five-o’clock-shadowed cheeks, he stared back at his reflection. Not only had forgiveness eluded him all of these years, so had hope. Once upon a time, he remembered what it felt like to dream. When he had spoken to Olivia Nelson for the first time and found himself on the receiving end of her smile, he had felt it: pure, honest-to-goodness hope. The recollection of those long-ago feelings were fading dimmer and dimmer with each passing year. Soon, even the memory would be gone. What would he do then?
With a sigh, Landon reached for his shaving soap and prepared himself for dinner with Brooke.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Landon appreciated that Brooke hadn’t dressed up for him. She wore the same lavender knit top she had worn earlier. Instead of Capris she had changed into dark denim, and her sock-covered feet were bare of shoes. She looked comfortable, the opposite of how he felt.
On the way to her room, he told himself he would only stay for a short time. After freshening up for dinner, he did something he had never done before: he made arrangements to leave the ship mid-cruise. They were scheduled to make one more port of call tomorrow morning. It would be a brief stay in a nearby village before the ship made its way back to Bariloche. A driver would be at the dock waiting to take him back to the Grand Vue. His assistant would work with Brooke on the pictures for the brochure. Before he severed all ties with the photographer, he would have this one last evening with her, a farewell of sorts.
