by Julee Baker
Scheduled to meet on three consecutive Thursday evenings, the classes would be three hours each. Sounded do-able. Hmm. Maybe Fran or her son, Tyler could sit with River. The first class focused on a basic survival pack. What to include in it. How to signal for help. How not to get lost.
The second class, the registrar explained, covered keeping yourself in good condition if you did end up lost or stranded. There was a third class which was optional—an in the field, overnight excursion, to get hands on experience.
She was sure she would attend the first two, but she’d have to think about the third. That would be interesting. Overnight . . . She didn’t know. If Fran could take River, perhaps she’d try to do that one, too.
That decided, she returned to the proofs and made some real headway. “Timeframes” was shaping up nicely, now that she had the missing camera back. The book would be a fitting tribute to her parents, she’d make sure of that.
Lost in choosing suitable shots for the book, the day flew by. Before she knew it, the bundle of energy named River came charging in the door after school.
“HiLakeheyguesswhat?”
When excited, River’s sentences came out so fast they sounded like one continuous word. Lake looked up from her work, giving him full attention. His customary practice was to continue questioning, without giving her a chance to answer the last one. Most of the time, all she could do was watch him with an open-mouthed smile and raised eyebrows, nodding her interest as he raced on.
“You know my teacher, Miss James? She knows Ranger Randy.” His jaw dropped open, displaying his amazement at the fact, then tumbled on, “Can you believe it Lake? She’s good friends with him. He’s gonna come to our school next week. The day before vacation. Can you believe it? It’s gonna be sooo cooool.”
River’s excitement spilled out into the room like sunshine.
“Wow. That is exciting. Small world.” Lake grinned. “Is he going to talk to you about animals or camping?” She barely got it out before he tumbled on.
“He is bringing animals with him. Can you believe it? This is going to be so cool. I can hardly wait.”
It would be heaven on earth for River. His hero of the moment was Ranger Randy. “What kinds of animals?”
“They’re not telling. It’s a surprise.” River’s eyes lit up. “But I’m hoping he brings a real, live wolf. Oh man, that would be sooo awesome!”
“That would be awesome.” Lake’s eyes sparkled back at his. It was so good to see him with his light turned on again. The first couple months after the accident, well, she wondered if it would ever happen.
“You know what else would be awesome?” Lake widened her eyes as she asked.
“What?”
“If you would go change into that old shirt you save for painting. The green striped one with the blue paint on it—from when we painted your room. I have a feeling it’ll get messy tonight. I’ll finish up my work here then I’ll warm up the goulash. Do you have any homework?”
“Just my spelling list.”
“Okay. Good. We’ll spend a few minutes on that before you eat. I’m going to meet Sheriff Sam at Suzanne’s for supper tonight while you’re at your art lesson.”
Alarm washed over River’s face. “Sheriff Sam? Is something wrong—that you’re meeting Sheriff Sam, I mean?” His brow crinkled with worry.
“Oh, no. No. Nothing like that. I helped him out with some pictures today and he offered to buy me supper. We’re friends. He’s a nice guy. I like him. Kind of makes me think of what having a big brother would be like.” She tilted her head and gazed into the distance, smiling broadly at the mental image.
River glanced up quick as a shot. “Would you rather have a big brother instead of a little one?”
“Oh, Riv . . .” She picked him up from under his arms and swung him around in two big circles speaking as they spun. “Neeeevvvvrrrr. Why would you ask such a thing? If they offered me my choice of a million, no, a billion, trillion, gazillion other brothers, I would always choose you.”
River giggled.
“You’re one in a gazillion.” She laughed.
A couple more swings around the room and a couple of hoots later, River wriggled away, his face flushed from fun. He looked out the big windows, a realization hitting him.
“Laa-aake. Stop! The guys might see. You know, I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Oh, right.” Lake tugged the bill of his blue Chicago Cubs cap down over his eyes. “Well, Mr. McDonald, you’d better go change and let me finish here. I’ll be up soon.”
River took the stairs at full speed as he ran up to the apartment. He was one in a gazillion and she would be lost without him.
When a shocked forty-year-old Anne McDonald confirmed her queasy feeling was the second child they had hoped for years to have, but never been blessed with, she had called him a gift from God. And that was the middle name she and Caleb gave River—Matthew—Gift from God.
And what would Lake have done without the gift of River? He was a gift. Lake spent the next few minutes solemnly pondering the twists and turns life can take, busying her hands with tidying up the worktable. Would she ever understand?
One truth she did know, she and River would be lost without each other right now.
“La-ake. My paint shirts gone. It’s not nowhere.” Came a call from the top of the stairs.
“It’s not anywhere, River.”
“I know. What should I wear?”
“Under the jeans, middle drawer.” She called over her shoulder, smiling at his wording and notorious disorganization. Organization would come in time. Lake could barely manage to keep two shoes in the same room when she was six.
Well, admittedly, the shoe problem hadn’t improved that much.
A couple minutes later, the call came from upstairs. Crisis averted. “It’s okay. I found it.”
***
Paint shirt found, spelling words studied, supper eaten, and River dropped off at the art center at twenty after six, put Lake ahead of schedule and ready to relax. More than enough time to drive to the café, but it really didn’t make sense to go home. Maybe she should drop the jeep off at the apartment and walk. But it would be almost dark when River got out of his class and he would be tired. She drove straight to the café, parked the jeep and then parked herself in a booth by a front window, adjusting the shade a bit to block the slanted evening sunlight.
Suzanne was headed her direction, looking pleased with herself.
“I made an addition to the menu.” She handed one to Lake, with a flourish, “Just for you.” Her dangling turquoise earrings bobbed as she nodded toward the menu on the red tabletop. “Check out the beverages.”
Lake scanned the columns on the cheerful menu, decorated with yellow-breasted, black-tied Western Meadowlarks, Montana’s state bird, and little pink Bitterroot flowers, the state flower. Now that she was back, Suzanne was enthusiastic about promoting her home state. There, under Hot Beverages was, Lake’s Spiced Chai.
“Cool. My chai. I’m famous.” Suzanne had been mixing up her special chai brew especially for her the past few months.
“You were already famous, honey. You have a whole, big lake named after you.” Suz winked at her reversal of the facts. “But I had so many people asking what that terrific smell was, I had to add it—by popular demand—you might say. It’s been going over great, too.” She nodded at a couple in the corner and added, “Adds a bit of international flavor to the place.” She held up an imaginary teacup with her pinkie out and winked. “Thanks for sharing your recipe, by the way.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Hey Lake. Hey Suzanne.” Sam deposited his Stetson on the post beside the booth and sat down across from Lake.
“I’ll give you two a couple of minutes to decide.” Suzanne chirped and went to another table.
Conversation quickly found its way back to the faked photos.
“What did Hawk have to say whe
n you told him?” Lake couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.
“Hasn’t gotten back to me yet.” Sam frowned and shook his head. “It’s not like him. He’s always got that phone on for GRRR calls.” He raised his eyebrows. “Which means, he’s still ticked. Can’t say I blame him. Colter put me in a heck of a position . . . and the more I think about it, the more I think he knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Hey, I’m sure everything will be all right. You guys have been friends forever—didn’t you say that?”
“Yeah, since high school football.”
Suzanne’s return to take their orders redirected their attention back to the menus, and Lake made sure to steer conversation away from Hawk for the rest of dinner—which took a surprising bit of effort on her part.
SEVEN
Art Lesson
F
unny thing, but Hawk couldn’t have explained why he looked up when he did, but when he did, Lake was making her way into the classroom. Even through all the chattering and commotion, her vibe came through. Like it or not, his internal radar was set on Lake McDonald frequency.
He found himself headed in her direction without making a conscious decision to do so. She saw him coming and—smiled. A stunning smile. A—knock-the-boots-off-the-cowboy—smile. It caused a catch in his step. Whoa. He swallowed hard. Get a grip Matthews. What are you—seventeen?
What had he done to deserve a smile like that from her? Had she taken his words to heart? Whatever it was, he would have to figure it out and keep doing it. A guy could go weak in the knees from a smile like that. Genuine, unpretentious. No woman’s smile had ever done that to him. It was a bit daunting.
Too bad the smile wasn’t directed at him.
Still smile-struck, Hawk was almost bowled over from behind as River hurtled by him at full speed toward Lake. He watched as she hugged him warmly and realized the smile that had knocked him off the mountain was really aimed at her little brother, charging forward from the back of the room. His own smile twisted a little sideways attempting to hide his chagrin. That was one lucky kid. Obviously a very loved kid.
Mesmerized, Hawk watched her nod and smile, examining River’s creation in the shoe box. A touching scene. The two had the same rich, dark-chocolate hair color—the same vivid blue eyes. Angular jaw lines. The same spunk. The boy could be a miniature, masculine version of Lake.
Right about then, she did turn her eyes to his.
Realizing his expression had turned serious, Hawk pasted a welcoming smile back on his face and nodded. She returned his smile—a smile that did not reach her eyes. Confusion? Regret about the cooler episode?
He mentally kicked himself again for letting his emotions get away from him the other day. Lake looked as skittish as a colt and ready to bolt. He’d have to be cool, reassure her. No pressure.
Hawk reined in his thoughts and resumed his path toward them. On the way, he was accosted by two students and their respective parents. In the brief amount of time it took to exchange greetings and encouragements about their creative talents, Lake and River had disappeared from the room.
***
On the ride home, River inspected his creation, while Lake replayed the classroom scene in her head. She’d examined River’s sculpture, giving herself as much time as possible to determine what it was. She could tell by the four legs it was some kind of animal, but she had to rev up her imagination to come up with the right animal.
At her, “Hey Riv! What ‘cha got there?”
River uncovered his treasure proudly with a, “Look Lake. Isn’t it great?”
She’d knelt beside him to get a better look and wrapped her arm around him. Good to see him so involved and happy. She’d given him a little squeeze, but not too much. She didn’t want to embarrass him. He wasn’t a baby anymore, she reminded herself with a smile.
He’d lifted the shoebox at her. “Rooo-aarr!”
Ah, the clue she needed. “Wow, Riv. Your . . . bear looks like it could almost walk right out of that box.”
Bingo. Relief. According to his huge smile, she’d guessed correctly.
“I would have rather done a wolf, but Hawk said that bears are easier to start with. Hawk’s really cool. You have to meet him. He makes animals and stuff for his work. It’s what he does all day. Isn’t that cool? He said my bear has good fur. He said I have real po-ten-shell. What’s po-ten-shell, Lake? Where is he? You have to meet him . . . Oh. There he is. He’s coming this way.” Then River had grabbed his big sister’s hand to pull him toward Hawk—but she was stronger.
Mercifully, a few other children and parents stopped their popular instructor to talk.
***
What had happened? Why the sudden attack of shyness? Why had she run? It shouldn’t have surprised her that Hawk was teaching the sculpting class. The art center said they used local artists and evidently, from the way the children were responding, he had a way with them.
After the long winter and never running into Hawk Matthews, were their paths now to intersect at every turn? Although, she had to admit, she had isolated herself for much of the fall and winter. She didn’t feel ready to do small-talk with him in such a public setting, yet.
They had both done a kindness for the other, he found and returned her camera, and she, helped Sam determine the photos were faked.
But she didn’t have the right words for him yet. What were the right words? She sighed. No clue.
At least River enjoyed himself and tonight’s art lesson. Hawk had facilitated that. He deserved the credit. River was happy. That’s all that really mattered.
At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
Granted, Hawk Matthews was one good-looking man—and she had met a lot of good-looking men. Some of those models—well, a girl had to work to keep her mouth from dropping open. But, she had learned the hard way, it took more than looks to make a man of substance.
What was she doing harboring her thoughts in this port anyway? Hadn’t she decided to sail any ideas like those directly back out to sea after the whole thing with Jeremy? She had nearly drowned in her delusions about him. What was wrong with her? Had she learned nothing? How much did she really know about Hawk? Her heart might skip a beat, or pound out an extra one, but she had to keep her feet planted firmly on shore. Think. She couldn’t go through that again—for her sake and River’s. They needed stability and honesty and trust.
All things she was evidently unable to recognize in a man—or maybe didn’t know to look for before . . .
Even if Hawk was all he appeared to be—she had to acknowledge the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room—Hawk’s work with GRRR was dangerous—life-threatening dangerous. As in—be ripped away from those you love without warning, dangerous.
And there it was.
Lake stared at the road. Her internal vision cleared. There it was. Loving and losing. Life was so fragile. Why deliberately pour yourself into a relationship that could be torn away at a moment’s notice—to someone trying to fix someone’s else’s disaster?
Didn’t River need more than that? Didn’t she deserve better than chancing a tidal wave like that knocking her down again?
Someday, when River was grown, maybe she’d be more open to the possibility, but not now. It was too much to figure out.
No matter how many ruggedly handsome mountain men crossed her path.
“. . . and Hawk said to keep the wet cloth over the clay, but Zach forgot and his clay got all crumbly and stuff, but it was okay because Hawk got him some more clay and . . . Lake . . . Lake?”
She realized River had been talking to her. See? she told herself, your attention is being drawn away from where it is supposed to be. Get with it.
“Sorry. Zach’s clay got crumbly?”
“Yeah, but Hawk fixed it. And then Zach got his bear made too. But I like mine better.”
“I like yours too, because you made it special. But you know what? I bet Zach
and his mom like his project a lot too, because it’s something special he made himself. What do you think?”
“That’s kinda what Hawk said. He said everyone makes their own kinds of art. It’s all you-neek. That means special. Right?”
“That’s right Riv. Just like you.” She reached over and tousled his hair. “You-neek.” She had to give Hawk credit for making that point clear to the kids.
“Hawk’s really cool, Lake. Did I tell you that?”
“Ahh . . . Yes, hon. You did mention it a couple of times.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I think it’s too bad so many people wanted to talk to him and we had to go so fast. I wish you could have met him.”
“Actually, I have met him.”
“You have? You didn’t tell me. When? Isn’t he cool? You know he makes sculptures every day? For his work. He’s a sculpture-maker, all the time.”
“He’s a sculptor. Sculp-tor.”
“That’s what I said. I didn’t know you guys knew each other. You guys . . . already know each other? We should ask him over for supper.”
“I know him—just a little bit,” she answered softly.
He had been so anxious for her to talk to Hawk, she felt a little guilty for avoiding it. Thankfully, they were home and the conversation turned to being careful with the box.
The next morning, her guilt about dragging River off so quickly the night before still lingered. She didn’t know how to deal with Hawk just yet. But, the vision of him standing there, smiling at her and at all those little children clamoring around him—well, it undid her. She couldn’t have found words then anyway.
The big talk she had given herself about being careful? Not letting herself get involved? What a joke. She had no more than laid eyes on Hawk last night—had no more than one devastating smile from him—and she was mentally right back in his arms.
This wouldn’t do. Couldn’t do. She had to get a better handle on her emotions. But where to start? She wasn’t ready. How could Hawk look so cool?
