by Curry, Edna
"I'm sorry we won't be able to show you that area," she told them. "It isn't handicapped accessible, and the paths are too steep and uneven for most of you to climb."
She talked about the great log jam of 1886 that made the newspapers as far away as Europe and made the history books there as well, especially in Sweden because so many of the settlers here were Swedish.
Mr. Jesset, a tall, heavy-set man with a great shock of snowy-white hair and the bluest eyes Diane had ever seen, interrupted, "Dad used to tell me that tale when I was just a little shaver. He was one of the loggers here, then. Quite proud he was, too, of helping to break up that big one. Said it was the largest log jam ever. It stretched for two miles upstream from Angle Rock, which is about a block from where we're sitting this minute. Two hundred men and lots of horses worked on it for six weeks before it broke up. Took a lot of dynamite, that did."
The others nodded, and added stories that their relatives had told them about it. It had been a landmark occasion in many lives, and not one to be soon forgotten.
From then on, the conversation flowed easily, needing only an occasional comment from her. Time flew until their food arrived and she could relax.
When they’d finished eating and were getting their coats before leaving, Bob came over to them.
"Sorry to louse it up, Diane," he said.
"I thought for sure my favorite boyfriend would remember a date with me." She could joke about it now that the crisis was over. Diane was aware that Jeff, coming up behind her with her jacket, could hear every word. She slipped her arms into her soft navy jacket. Jeff eased it around her shoulders with a familiar gesture, sliding his hand down her arm. His touch sent awareness racing through her. She swallowed, and looked back at Bob, forcing a smile.
"What can I say?" Bob asked, his brow puckering. "I'm sorry. After all the times you've helped me out of a jam, I have to louse things up for you."
"Hey, it's okay." she returned, noting uncomfortably that Jeff was watching them with a frown on his face.
"Do we still have a date for the Ski Opener?" Bob asked, unwilling to let it go so easily.
"Yes, of course. Don't we always?" She and Bob had spent the opening weekend at the local ski resort together ever since they'd learned to ski in grade school. She would no more miss that than Christmas with her parents.
"Call me when they set the opening date," she told him.
Diane followed the others to the bus. Trucks roared past, their hydraulic brakes hissing at the stoplight. The crisp, cool breeze lifted her hair and the bright sunshine made her squint.
"The hometown boyfriend?" Jeff queried softly behind her, taking her arm to assist her up the bus steps.
"Ye...es, only a friend," she hedged, her heart tripping with excitement at his touch.
George helped the last of the seniors onto the bus, and drove them to the Historical Society's restored home a few blocks away.
Jeff stayed close to Diane throughout the tour of the home, occasionally putting his hand on her arm as they mounted a stairway or stepped over a threshold. She was so aware of his nearness that she barely heard the tour guide's comments. Usually she loved to stroll through the old house, noticing some new detail of clothing or furniture each time she toured it. She’d heard about the man who’d built the house and the first bridge across the St. Croix River so many times that she could have conducted the tour herself.
They returned to the bus and drove back down to the river for the cruise, the last part of their tour.
Some of her charges seemed to be tiring, so Diane was glad to seat them on the large tour boat for a rest. They sat quietly on the leisurely ride down the river, listening to the captain describe the various rock formations along the way.
"Up ahead you can see 'The Old Man of the Dalles' which is the most perfect, naturally occurring, likeness of a human head in the world," the captain said. Then, as they rounded the curve and headed down-stream, he went on, "Now, off to your left, you can see 'The Cross of the St. Croix', which means the Sacred Cross, for which the valley is named. To your right is the 'The Devil's Chair'. Lots of people have regretted trying to sit in it."
Diane shuddered, looking at the needle of rock pointing up beside the river.
Jeff looked questioningly at her.
With a wry smile, she said, “I remember the day, years ago, that Bob climbed that Devil’s Chair, to show off. It was a beautiful, sunny day like this one, during our freshman year in high school. Bob made it to the top, and sat there, gloating down at me. Then, on the way down, he slipped and fell, breaking his leg.”
“Oh, oh.”
“He had pain written all over his face, but was trying not to let me see it.” She looked away. “I had to leave him there alone and go for help. The only way to get him out was by boat, because they couldn't carry a stretcher over the rocky shore.” She glanced back and met Jeff’s sympathetic gaze.
“That must have been upsetting,” he said.
Her lips twisted. That was putting it mildly. “I was scared to death. Seeing the Devil's Chair always brings back the memory. I heard the scream of the ambulance siren in my dreams for months.”
Jeff looked at her, a reassuring smile on his face. She smiled back tentatively, and the scary memories receded.
They’d almost returned to the boat dock when one of the older men stood and called to them for help, gesturing frantically at Mr. Jesset, who was slumped in the seat beside him.
Both Diane and Jeff rushed to Mr. Jesset and attempted to revive him.
“Get some help! I’ll continue to try to resuscitate him,” Jeff said. He realized that this was her home area. He had to depend on her to know who to call. He didn’t relish the feeling that, for once, he was the one who was dependent.
“All right. There’s a hospital less than a mile away.” Diane grabbed her cell phone and dialed nine-one-one, gave directions for an ambulance. Then she ran toward the stairs to the deck to alert the captain.
The captain nodded and quickly docked the boat.
Diane hurried back below to see if she could help Jeff.
The ambulance arrived in a matter of minutes, and the paramedics took over.
Diane talked quietly to the other seniors, who were upset and fearful for Mr. Jesset. Jeff watched her, pleased that she was so good at comforting them. The paramedics were loading their patient into the ambulance and Jeff wondered if someone should go to the hospital with Mr. Jesset. The day's activities were over except for the return trip to Minneapolis.
Diane turned to Jeff. “Will you help George return the senior citizens to their apartment complex?”
He was about to object when one of the older ladies tugged at his arm, demanding his attention. So he nodded his agreement at Diane. She climbed into the ambulance and waved as she rode away.
Damn! Jeff thought, staring after the ambulance. How’s she going to get back to Minneapolis? I’m supposed to work on Dad’s project tonight. Maybe a friend will drive her back? Why didn’t we exchange cell numbers? He remembered the familiar way Bob had talked to her in the restaurant and a surge of jealousy curled in his chest. No way. I’ll come back for her myself.
Several hours later, Mr. Jesset's daughter had arrived and Diane had calmed her enough to feel she could leave.
She pulled her jacket from the chair-back where she’d left it, and threw it over one arm. Right now, putting it on would take more energy than she could muster. At least, because it was Friday afternoon, she didn't have to worry about finding a way back to the city tonight. She’d spend the weekend at her parents' home as she often did. Crashing in her own familiar bed sounded heavenly. She still had her own key in case they weren't home.
Downstairs in the lobby, she went to the phone booth to call her mother. Halfway through dialing, she saw Jeff coming through the front doors of the hospital. He spotted her, waved and walked over to her. She hung up the phone.
"Jeff. What are you doing here?"
"What a wel
come. I got all the seniors home safe and drove out to give you a ride back to Minneapolis, of course. Or were you planning to walk? I doubt that this little burg has bus or taxi service."
"No, it doesn't. But I don't need a ride. My parents still live here and I'm planning to stay with them for the weekend," she said.
“Oh.”
Diane thought he sounded disappointed. Realizing how ungrateful she’d sounded, she amended hastily, "It was nice of you to think of me. I was about to call my mother for a ride home. Would you like to drive me instead and have some coffee before you go back?"
She could hardly send him back to the cities with no more than a hello and a good-bye after he had just made an hour's drive out here to rescue her. After all, he hadn't known it was unnecessary.
"Everything's under control here then?"
"Yes, Mr. Jesset's condition is stable and his daughter is here with him. There's nothing more we need do."
"Good. But, are your folks expecting you?"
"No, but....”
"Then, how about going out for some dinner first? I haven't eaten yet, have you?"
"Nooo...I haven't. Sound's great."
"Good. Lead the way. I didn't stop to change, so nowhere too fancy, please." He took her jacket from her and helped her into it. Then he slid his arm around her as they walked out through the hospital lobby and into the cool, starlit night.
She shivered, though she didn't know whether it was from the coolness of the fall evening or his enclosing arm. She didn't know what to make of this man. He seemed incredibly nice. How many men would’ve realized she’d be stranded, or would have gone to that much trouble to rescue her, even if they had? He’d certainly managed to make her feel special.
She laughed. "My uniform isn't exactly right for a nightclub, either, although there are lots of them around here! I know a good truck stop a few miles out. The food is terrific, and they won't care if we come as we are."
"Sounds fine."
He helped her into the seat of his white Mercedes. She settled into its maroon interior and sighed. The pleasant odor of new leather upholstery tickled her nostrils.
"Mm," she said as he slipped the car into gear, "You do travel in style, don't you?"
"It's my weakness,” he admitted with a laugh. “I love its luxurious feel and powerful engine."
"I didn't know anyone in our company made that kind of money."
He glanced at her, then shrugged. "Maybe they don’t. I indulged myself when I got a large royalty check. A computer game that I wrote and sold a couple of years ago finally took off. I had about given up on it."
"I didn't know you were into programming computers."
"I picked it up from my father. He got in on the ground floor when it was just a fledgling industry. Now Banning Corporation makes a lot of business computer software."
"I'm impressed. So why didn't you get into that line of work? It has to be more lucrative than squiring senior citizens around."
He glanced at her, then away. After a moment, he said, "Actually, I did do programming for Banning for ten years after college."
As he hesitated, she wondered if he was deciding how much to tell her. A sad, yet rebellious look crossed his face, then disappeared. He went on, "After my mother died, I needed a change of scene, and decided to try the travel business for awhile. I'll probably go back to computers when Dad gets closer to retirement. Right now, I'm enjoying getting paid to see the world."
I wish I were getting paid to see the world instead of to do these local tours. Pushing the thought away, she gave him directions to the restaurant and leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. The purr of the expensive engine was as soft as a lullaby. She sensed rather than felt him reach out to switch on a tape of soft music.
"Tired?"
"Ummhmm. What a day! I could sleep for a week."
"Well, don't start now. We're here.”
The tantalizing aroma of barbecue surrounded them as they found a table beside the fireplace in the dining room. A smiling, young waitress brought them water and menus. Diane ordered the fish and salad entree, and Jeff the barbecued ribs.
As they made small talk, she found herself relaxing under his seemingly idle questions. He asked about her family and life in a small town. He’d been raised in the city and seemed fascinated with her answers.
Their food arrived quickly and was delicious. Diane's fatigue eased as she ate, but she grew uneasier with Jeff. Every time their eyes met, she felt as though he had physically caressed her.
When he passed her the basket of rolls, his hand brushed hers and then lingered, his eyes holding hers in a long caress. "You're a very lovely woman, Diane," he said softly. "Not hard or sophisticated like so many girls I know."
"Thanks, I think," Diane said doubtfully. "Only a small town girl." No doubt he meant small-town hick.
"I meant it as a compliment, Diane. You're soft, genuine. A small-town treasure."
"Thank you." Her breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze. Flattery, again. The Charmer himself. You've been caught in this trap before. Beware, Diane.
"We're not at work, now. Relax. Why are you afraid of me?"
"I'm not afraid of you," she denied, untruthfully.
"Of what, then? Of a relationship? Someone has hurt you." It was a statement, not a question.
She stared down at the tablecloth. "Is it so obvious?"
"Only to those who care enough to look."
She said nothing. What was there to say?
"But not Bob,” he guessed. “You're still dating him."
Glancing quickly at him, she said, "Oh, no. Bob is just a friend. I...I was engaged to Cory Richards about a year ago."
“And?”
“And he dumped me for a girl his mother approved of.” Why am I telling him all this? I’ve never talked about it.
"Is it over, now?"
"Yes." Her voice was flat, stiff, yet unsteady. Boy, is it over. And I have no intention of repeating that mistake.
He sighed, then reached across to cover her hand with his. "Diane, look at me. It wasn't me. I'm me, not him. Okay?"
How could he read her so easily? She smiled with an effort, "Okay, boss."
"Don't call me that again!" he scolded, but he grinned and their conversation was back on a safe, light track for the rest of the meal.
When they walked to his car, it was growing dark. They rolled easily down the hill into the valley once more. Lights were on now and he exclaimed, "The valley is spectacular at night."
"Yes," she agreed. "I love it. But then I'm prejudiced."
A sudden, hissing noise came from under the hood of the car. "Damn!" he exclaimed.
Pulling off to the side of the road, he stopped the car and got out, then lifted the hood, burying his head under a cloud of steam.
In a few minutes he came back to her. "It's a broken hose." He popped the trunk, pulled out an old T-shirt, and nonchalantly wiped his hands.
Chapter 3
Diane stared at Jeff. He continually surprised her. Usually, he looked so suave and debonair, yet now he seemed at home with grease on his hands. This was obviously not the first time he'd had car trouble, and he didn't seem in the least upset at getting dirty. He even kept a rag handy to wipe his hands.
"Do you know where I can get one or at least repair this one temporarily?"
"There's a station about a quarter mile ahead," she said. "It should still be open."
"Okay. Sit tight. And keep the doors locked!" he instructed. "I don’t like leaving you alone here.”
"I’ll be fine," she said, frowning at the insult to her home town. “This is a very safe area.”
"Okay. Be back as soon as I can." He reached in and tipped her chin up.
She caught her breath as his hand slid lightly along her jawline. His face dipped closer and her heart did a flip. His firm lips pressed hers in a quick farewell kiss.
"You’re cute when you’re mad. Bye." He grinned at her and wal
ked on down into the valley, leaving her breathless.
She stared after him, half angry, half amused. “Male chauvinist.” He wasn’t, really. Actions speak louder than words. She sat there admiring the easy, athletic swing of his body as he walked along the highway. Each long, smooth stride carried him a little farther down the valley and diminished his image a fraction in size. Did his caresses and kiss mean anything to him? Or was it merely his habit to use charming gestures and sweet talk on whichever woman was close to him at the moment, as it had been for Cory Richards? Cory’d had a love-’em and leave-’em philosophy. She’d believed his promises. Then he’d dumped her for another.
She shook her head in frustration. When would she get over Cory and stop expecting every man to deceive her? She must learn to take things as they come, enjoy today for what it is, and not expect miracles.
She smiled, remembering Jeff's soft caress in the restaurant and his reaction to Bob. Why, he'd almost seemed jealous! Impossible. Maybe Jeff just liked exclusive attention from whichever girl he was with. He was obviously used to getting his own way. She leaned back against the soft car seat and closed her eyes. What a day it had been. The hum of the traffic speeding past lulled her and she fell asleep.
A knock on her window woke her. She bounced upright and rolled down the window. Jeff was back with a red tow truck.
"Did you catch a nap? They can't fix my car tonight, but they'll tow it to the station anyway, so it'll be off the road. We’ll have to ride in the tow truck.”
She opened the door and he took her hand as she stepped out. “Now what? Know of any motels?"
She nodded, watching the teenaged driver hook their car to the tow truck. “Three. But they’re always booked weeks ahead at this time of year.”
“Great. Got any other ideas? Your car is in Minneapolis?”
“Right.” There was really not much choice. Hospitality demanded that she take him home with her to her parents' house. Her mother would never forgive her if she heard that she had left a fellow worker stranded in her own hometown.
