Jeanie lifted a skeptical brow. “There were good parts to your marriage?”
“Yes. But you weren’t there then. You were at college. The first few years were wonderful. When I became, in his opinion, more … important than he was, more famous, he couldn’t stand that, Jeanie. That was when the bad stuff started. I’m not excusing him. I know he was a bastard of the first degree. I knew I should have left him the first time he hurt me, but I loved him, and I told myself that he’d just lost his temper. By the time I realized that he was losing his temper too often, it was too late. I was caught in that terrible downward spiral that battered wives get caught in.”
“He took away your self-respect. He stole your ability to compose! He ate up your soul, Sharon!”
“Yes, in a way, I guess he did. But that Jeanie, was my fault. I let him do that to me.” She paused thoughtfully for several moments. “I like to think I would have been able to pull myself out of it somehow, gotten the help I needed, but I’ll never know, will I? Because he was the one who left me in the end.”
“And you still never regained what he’d taken from you. You don’t make music anymore. How could I risk letting some man destroy my soul that way, after seeing what happened to you?”
“No!” Sharon shot to her feet, the lamplight turning her black hair almost blue as she paced angrily away. “I won’t permit that, Jeanie! If you’re letting my experiences color what you feel about marriage, stop right now. Marriage is a fine and wonderful thing between the right people. Ellis and I were the wrong people. For each other. That’s all. Pure and simple.”
“Last year, when you told me you wished you could get over being afraid of men, because you’d like to marry again, have a father for the kids, I thought you were crazy, Sharon. How could you want another man in your life after what Ellis did to you?”
Sharon returned to crouch before her troubled younger sister. “Because, my dearest, all men are not like Ellis. I know that somewhere out there, there’s the right man for me. A man who can love me for what I am, who I am, and accept my limitations.”
Jeanie leaned forward and put her head on Sharon’s shoulder. “You don’t have any, Sharon. If only you could see that. You really have no limitations at all in spite of what Ellis made you believe. You are more talented than he is. It was no fluke that you became more famous. It wasn’t just because you were a woman and the music world needed a token woman composer. Oh, Sharon, I want so much for you to be like you were before.”
Lifting her head, she said, “Just once, will you play for me, will you at least try?”
Sharon glanced over at where her harp stood shrouded in the corner. For a moment, Jeanie thought she might get up and walk over to it, but then she shook her head. “How ’bout this,” she said, her throat working. She took off her three of Grandma Margaret’s golden bangles and slipped them over Jeanie’s hand. “I’ll play at your wedding, little sister. As long as you go and get that man who is the right one for you.”
On the long and tortuous drive, Jeanie began to realize that the McKenzie brothers, in spite of their physical differences, were really very much alike. Rolph might have been a little gentler in nature, but he had the same wry, puckish sense of humor, and even sounded like Max when he laughed. And he laughed a lot on that long drive.
“Make sure you stop and let me out before we get close enough for him to hear the truck,” she said for the third time, glimpsing the roof of the cabin and the glint from the bubble of the helicopter perched on its pad nearby. “I don’t want him taking off until I’ve had a chance to talk to him.”
“If I had my way, I’d drive right up to the cabin, jump out, and smash his tail rotor, leaving you two here alone until you talked some sense into him.”
Rolph gave her a squeeze as he pulled the four-by-four to a stop. “I’m just glad one of you began to see reason. A month of this dough-headedness of his was all the family could stand. If Freda hadn’t threatened to quit, I don’t think we could have got him up here to pull himself out of his funk and decide one way or another what he was going to do about you.”
“There you go, kiddo,” he said moments later, pulling to a stop at a spot just barely wide enough for him to turn the small, sturdy truck around. He handed her her backpack, two large, empty red plastic cans, and gave her a little salute. “On your way. If I see that chopper take off within the next ten minutes, I’ll come down to the cabin for you. After that, I’m gone.”
“The chopper will not take off,” she said, patting her jacket pocket. “Especially since you told me how to make sure it doesn’t.”
“Don’t forget which barrel to use,” he said warningly.
“I won’t forget.”
“And be as tough as you have to with my stubborn brother.”
“Don’t worry.” She grinned. “When it comes to handling heroes, I know exactly what to do.”
But for all her bold words, Jeanie trembled as she walked along the track and came in sight of the cabin. The door was closed. Almost on tiptoe, she bypassed the cabin, went to the helicopter, and performed the task Rolph had instructed her to. Then, with that finally finished, she walked up the three steps to the porch and lifted the hand-made wooden latch of the door. Its hinges squeaked as she pushed it open.
No one responded to the sound of the door opening. There was one main room, and a small bathroom, which she entered and scrubbed her hands till they smelled better.
The two windows, one looking out over the lake, the other into the forest, lacked draperies—correctly so, she decided—why block such a spectacular view? Through the one in the front, she saw Max a hundred feet below, fishing from a canoe. Should she wait? Should she call him? She quivered with joy at the sight of him. No matter what the outcome of this visit was, she had to see him.
On the dumpy looking leather couch lay a golden trumpet. Picking it up, she firmed her lips, pressed them against it, and placed her fingers on the keys. Gently, she coaxed long, low tones from it until she had its measure. Then, opening the door, she stepped out onto the narrow porch and lifted the horn high into the glittering December sun.
Into the wind she played for him. Into the mountains the echoes carried and returned, notes high and clear, throbbing and pure. Over the water her message flew and floated, and he looked up.
Il Silenzio! He dropped his rod over the side, picked up his paddle and shot that canoe to the shore. He was out of breath when he reached the porch. Gently taking the trumpet from her lips, he replaced it with his mouth.
She was breathless by the time he lifted his head. “You didn’t tell me you could play,” he said.
“You didn’t ask.”
“You’re better than I am.”
She shrugged. “I took lessons for years. All the Leslies are musically talented. Do you mind?”
“That you’re better than I am? Not a bit. I dig better than you.”
She smiled. “That’s true.”
“Do you care that I’m bigger and stronger?”
Her smile faded, her face becoming serious, her eyes questioning. “Not a bit. My heart’s bigger and stronger, so I love better than you do.”
He drew a deep breath and let it out in a rush; his eyes showed a hit of fear, but he said, “No, you don’t. I love you, Jeanie. With all my heart and soul, I do. But, oh, Lord, it scares me to feel this way.”
“Yes. I know you love me. That’s why I’m here. And I know it scares you, too.”
He looked at her, eyes filled with puzzlement. “You know I love you? But how can you? I only knew it myself the minute I heard that horn and looked up and saw you all golden in the sun, calling to me with music we both love.”
“Max … Max. Would you have gone flinging yourself into a collapsing tunnel for anyone else?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No. Only for you. If it had been anyone else, I’d have done the smart thing and got the hell out and gone for help. Only I couldn’t stand the thought of your being alone in there,
afraid, maybe hurt.”
“So. You see? That’s love, Max.”
She felt his nod against her face, heard his whisper near her ear. “I guess it is.”
“Max, I’ve come to ask if you still want to marry me. I wish you weren’t afraid of what you feel for me, and I hope I can overcome my fears, too.” She shook as she leaned back in his arms and met his seeking gaze. “To help you deal with yours, though, if you’ll do for me what you did before—talk to me, keep me calm, show me that the cages I fear are all in my mind, I’ll teach you about love.”
His sigh was ragged and his kiss was deep, telling her of his love the way no words ever could. “I’ll always want to marry you,” he said, “and I’ll always want to be married to you. When? When can we make it official?”
She laughed and buried her face against his chest. “That depends. How long will it take your brother to drive from here to Victoria and back to bring in a vital part for your chopper. I’m afraid, Mr. McKenzie, your helicopter’s out of gas.”
He stared at her. “How in the hell did that happen?”
Impishly, she held up the tool she’d had tucked in her jacket pocket. “Rolph told me about a little plug at the bottom of the tank. I drained the fuel out into jerry cans and threw the little plug away. You might be able to find it, but I doubt it. I wasn’t sure you were going to give me much chance to talk to you, and … well …”
“I’m not,” he said with a growl, picking her up and carrying her inside the cabin. “I’m not going to give you any chance to talk. Not for a long time.” It was cold that high in the mountains, even in the sun. And the building clouds portended snow. Rolph might not be back for a long time.
“I don’t want talk. I want action!”
With a laugh, he carried her up the stairs to the loft bed where the warmth of the wood heater below wafted up over them. He laid her down, taking off her down coat, her sweater, and her shoes and socks and jeans.
“You,” he said, “should not be running around without underwear in the middle of December, Ms. Leslie. You might catch cold.”
“I didn’t bother with underwear because I thought it would slow things down,” she told him. “And you might catch more than cold if you don’t hurry up.”
“What might I catch?”
“A bust in the mouth, mister.”
“I can live with that.”
It was still night when they awoke. “Your head’s on my pillow,” Max said, rolling over to look at her in the glow of an oil lamp.
“I noticed. Want me to move it?”
“Never.” They shared a smile of joy.
“Max? You know what Jason found out about that cave at school?”
“Hmm? What?” He didn’t much care. He was busy sliding the thick duvet back very, very slowly, making discoveries as he went.
“A kid in seventh grade set it up. He was going to invite his girlfriend there. He wrote her a note, but someone else got hold of it, and it was all over the school in no time at all. He was too embarrassed to go back and get his stuff.”
“Hmm! I see. Sort of like wanting to take her out behind the fire hall or down to the marina to his dad’s boat?”
“Guess so. Naughty, huh?”
“Only if she agreed to do it.”
“Double standards already, McKenzie?”
“Double standards aren’t for grown-ups.”
“Oh? And what is for grown-ups?” She reached beneath the down quilt. “This?”
“That,” he said, “is for one grown-up lady alone, but I’m afraid the fire’s going out.”
She squeezed hard flesh. “Doesn’t feel like that to me.”
“I meant the stove needs more wood in it, so I have to leave you temporarily.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said, scrambling after him, wrapping the comforter around her.
“Ah-ha! I’ve got your measure, lady. You just wanna go down to my couch and do it.”
She fluttered her lashes at him innocently. “What does ‘do it’ mean?”
With a lascivious grin he picked her up and carried her down to the couch. “Just you lie back right there,” he said, “while I stoke up the wood-stove, and then I’ll show you.”
She opened her arms to him when he returned brushing wood dust off his hands, and murmured, “My hero …” Within the sounds of their mingled laughter, Jeanie distinctly heard the tinkling music of golden bangles. Looking over Max’s shoulder, she saw six whirling, gleaming circlets hovering over the arm of the sofa, dancing in the firelight.
She smiled at them and said silently, Thank you, Grandma Margaret. Thanks for everything.
THE END
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1990 by Judy Gill
cover design by Connie Gabbert
978-1-4532-8074-4
This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media
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