by Julee Baker
His deep laugh sounding through the room was like honey on warm, buttered toast. She was so hungry for that kind of laughter in her life again.
“Don’t get your tail in a knot, wildcat. This,” he maneuvered the mirror, and they both watched as the spot of light travel over the timber walls and ceiling, “can be your best friend if you’re lost in the woods. Rescuers can see a light like this for twenty, thirty miles—easily. No object in nature does that. If you signal a likely spot—where searchers might see it, or a plane—well, you’re halfway home.”
“That’s great, but how could you ever aim that at a plane?”
“Ahh, excellent question. I was waiting for you to ask that one. It’s a bit tricky and takes practice. Come over here and look out the window, I’ll show you.”
Lake crossed over to the window and Hawk moved behind her.
“Okay, focus on an object. Pick a target. Let’s see. Okay, see that spot about halfway up the slope?” He pointed to a large boulder in the distance.
She nodded, but wondered how in the world she was supposed to focus her attention on a boulder with this rock of a man so close. She could feel his body heat on her arms, and, she knew better . . . but couldn’t resist inhaling that—man, plus mountain, plus magic of him. Whatever pheromones the guy was giving off put Lake right in the danger zone. What survival training was available for that?
Friends, Lake. Friends. She repeated to herself.
“That big boulder? We’ll aim for that.” He handed her the mirror. “Are you right eye or left eye dominant?”
This one she could answer from her photography experience.
“Right eye.”
“Right, okay, right. So, hold the mirror up beside your right eye . . . Yeah, just like that. And hold your other arm straight out with your first two fingers in a V. Yes, there. Now, put that boulder right in the middle of that V.”
Hawk brought Lake’s arm up and helped her to get it into position. He bent to her level, their heads touching.
“That V is your sight. Now maneuver the mirror so the sunlight hits the boulder.” His hand wrapped around hers.
It took a little bit to get the aim right, they wiggled her arm around a bit, but, all of a sudden, the spot of light landed on the side of the boulder.
“Ah. I did it. That is so cool.” She spun in his arms with an excited smile, putting them just a heartbeat apart. His arms lingered.
“That’s great, though you’ll probably do it faster next time without my help.” His eyes roamed her face. “I have to admit, I got a little distracted. Not like me.” He gave an apologetic look. “I may have bumped your arm a little.”
He was smiling slightly, but seemed preoccupied by another thought as his gaze ran over her hair, and landed on her braid. He picked it up and wound its length around his hand, lifting it closer to his face.
“Your hair . . . Umm. What is that by the way? Smells great.”
Lids closed over the honey colored eyes as he inhaled appreciatively, trying to determine the scent.
Lake swallowed. She was having trouble finding her voice, distracted by the dark eyelashes while his eyes were shut—and then, by the little brown flecks that shown in the gold when he opened them. He was still holding her braid, lightly rubbing it between his fingers in a gesture causing Lake’s knees to feel a bit weak. He smelled pretty amazing himself, though she wasn’t going to say it.
“Um . . . it’s . . . my shampoo, I guess. Forest Meadow, or something like that, I think.” Out of nervousness, she blabbered on. “This has been very informative. You really know what you’re doing.”
The corners of his mouth twitched as the dark eyebrows raised and he searched her face. “I hope so. Time’ll tell.”
The exchange was making her a bit light-headed. His strength—mind, body and well—character, made Hawk a rock; and all at once, despite past experiences, despite swearing off men, she wanted more than anything, to take up rock climbing—right into those topaz eyes.
Hawk still held her braid, his hand rested against her cheek. Great hands. Capable hands. Warmth radiated onto her cheek as he tugged her braid, gently pulling her closer.
Hawk’s head tilted slightly as he examined her eye color intently. “There should be a special name for that blue—really, unique.” His mood turned serious. “Maybe—give it up-your lost blue—or drowning and I don’t care blue?”
Warning bells. Steady Lake. She dragged her gaze from his eyes, but it just ended up landing on his mouth.
Was this foolhardy—or the best of common sense?
“Just relax. He knows what he’s doing . . .” Hawk murmured, repeating Lake’s earlier statement back to her.
The words brushed against her mouth just before his lips. It was like being home. She relaxed into the kiss.
Hawk released her braid, circled her in his arms and pulled her close.
***
So much for keeping his head about him, Hawk thought fleetingly as the feeling of Lake washed over him again. His senses spun. You’d think he’d never kissed a woman before. Whether this was the best idea of his life—or one that would sink him—not matter—he was in deep now.
He intended to impress her with his expertise today—but, not exactly this particular expertise.
About the time they both needed to come up for air, the mirror slipped from Lake’s hand and clattered to the floor. She made a small sound of surprise. Whether from the clattering mirror or the kiss, he wasn’t quite sure. They separated.
“Oh. I . . . I hope I don’t’ give us seven year’s bad luck.” Lake sputtered softly.
“Don’t worry.” He picked up the mirror, still intact, and returned it to her hand. “Unbreakable.”
The mirror obviously—but as he studied Lake’s face, he wondered—a hope emerged that he wouldn’t have thought possible from their rocky start. Could whatever this was developing between them become unbreakable?
Her eyes gave a hint to the—caution versus hope—conflict that was waging in her, too. The gentle smile she blessed him with a couple of seconds later, seemed to indicate hope had won the day.
He stepped back with a parting caress to Lake’s cheek. “Umm . . . Can’t say I haven’t thought about that, but I didn’t plan on it happening today. Don’t want to scare you back into a life of crime. A second, grand theft auto might not be so easy for Sam to ignore,” he teased.
“Do I look scared?”
“No, matter of fact, you don’t.” He gave another playful tug to her braid. “A good sign.”
Encouraged by her sparkle, Hawk found himself fighting hard against the urge to pull her back to him.
Lake caught a beam of sunlight with the mirror and playfully angled it toward an object on the mantle, using the V to sight it in, as he taught her. The sculpture’s metal flashed a fiery, copper glint back at them.
“Good job. You have been paying attention.” He smiled at his successful student.
“Oh, you’ve definitely gotten my attention.” She followed her smile with a questioning glance from the sculpture on the mantle to Hawk and back again.
“One of yours?”
He walked over to the stylized bronze figure of a wolf, its head raised in a howl. “My first. I was fourteen. My grandfather thought the clay model I made was so good, that he took me to one of the foundries over by Bigfork and had it cast.” He touched the bronze lightly. “He was my biggest fan, right from the start.”
Hawk’s eyes lingered on the piece, lost for a moment in a memory.
“This was your first?! Whoa. You’re fortunate your grandfather recognized and nurtured your talent.” Then more softly— “My folks did that for me too, I guess. We were lucky.”
“Yeah, he saved me in many ways.” Hawk ran his hand over the piece. “Helped light my path when things seemed pretty dark.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He’s been gone eight years now. I sure miss the feisty ol’ guy . . .
His name was Aidan—my namesake.”
A thought occurred to him and he looked up from the sculpture at her.
“Hey . . . I just realized something . . .” He said, grinning. “Aidan originates from an old Gaelic word for fire.”
“Uh-oh.” Lake frowned, quirking an eyebrow. “Fire and water? Doesn’t sound like it bodes well for a relationship between us.”
“Or—” He flashed an intentionally devilish smile her way. “Could make for a very steamy one.”
Something went thunk in his chest when she laughed at his bold teasing. Oh—yeah—he could get addicted to that sound.
“It’s good to hear you laugh.” He squeezed her hand and tried cleared his throat so she wouldn’t notice the catch in his breath that caught him off-guard.
He turned to the windows with an idea.
“It’s a beautiful morning. Let’s walk.” He took her hand and led her toward the door.
TEN
Insights Outside
H
awk grabbed his Stetson from the peg beside the door and they stepped onto the porch, squinting into the late morning sun.
“Let’s see. Which way for your first hike around the place?” He did a one-eighty. “This way.” He pointed to a path leading into the trees. There’s a nice trail that leads down along the stream. Shall we?”
“We shall. Looks lovely,” she smiled.
“Hard to find a walk around here that’s not.” Was it just him, or were her smiles coming a lot easier—another good sign. He stopped momentarily to pat Elle, who, once she recognized which way they were going, bounded ahead like it was all her idea.
The path was wide enough for them to walk together and they set a quiet, leisurely pace down the gently sloping trail. Hawk spoke first.
“So . . .” He slanted a sideways look at her, considering. “Lake McDonald. It suites you. It is one of the most beautiful spots in Glacier Park. Let me guess—a favorite place of your parents?” His smile coaxed the same from Lake.
Their steps crunching on the rocky soil was the only sound for a few seconds before she responded. “Oh, you could definitely say that. You could say I kind of got my start there, if you know what I mean.” She shot a sly glance at him, grinning. “And, with the last name McDonald, well, I guess my folks couldn’t resist.” Her grin faded as she looked at the sky and then their surroundings. “Nature photography was always their real passion—well, aside from each other,” she said. He offered a hand to steady her over a rockier stretch of the trail, then she continued, “Glacier Park was about their favorite place on Earth.”
“Here, come over here.” He motioned for her to stand where there was a view through an opening in the trees. He pointed. “There. You can just see the tops of some of Glacier’s peaks from here.”
Lake’s misty glance turned northeast, where, off in the distance, the majestic peaks of Glacier Park were just visible through the clearing.
Hawk smiled, understanding her feelings more than she knew. They walked on in silence for a distance. He thought to lighten the mood.
“Any other brothers or sisters—Brookes or Creeks wandering around?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Ha, ha. Nope. Just a Lake and a River.”
He let out a low whistle that arched and dipped in amazement. “Whoa. How many years between you two?”
“Only twenty-two.” She laughed softly. “Mom and Dad always wanted another child, but, had pretty much given up on the idea, when—voila’,” Lake motioned with her hands, “twenty-two years later, here comes little bro.” She produced a rueful smile. “I was out on my own by the time Riv entered the scene. I’d say we bonded pretty quickly after the accident, though . . . In a lot of ways, he’s helped me through it.”
“And you him. Must have been tough on the little guy. It’s tough losing a parent anytime, but to be that age—” His frown remained.
Lake nodded.
“You’re lucky to have each other . . . Makes you really question God at times . . .”
She frowned and shrugged her shoulders, his words hitting so close to home and her grief surfacing enough to halt conversation.
Hawk stopped beside some low boulders next to a crystal- clear stream. It gurgled merrily over rocks on its path down the hillside through the trees. You could have jumped it with a running start.
Lake dipped her hand into the cool waters. His sculptor’s eye, fascinated by the graceful elegance of the line of her, watched in silence. Such a peaceful moment. Lake looked at home out here—or—was that just wishful thinking on his part?
She looked up at him then, and the emotion in those blue eyes almost knocked him over. He asked if she’d like to sit, motioning to a couple of boulders that were good sitting size. Although, he was probably the one who could use the sitting time more than Lake. She nodded and they sat quietly in the shady spot with their thoughts, appreciating the soft water sounds and occasional chirps and other mysterious noises from the tenants of the towering forest city around them
Lake spoke first. “When you said that, about questioning . . . you know, I’m still trying to figure that part out.” She shook her head “I was really hurt—angry at God for a long time. I guess, deep inside, I knew it wasn’t really helping anything, but I . . . it was so overwhelming . . . I couldn’t make sense of it . . . Still can’t really. Why me? And, for heaven’s sake, why River? Why should he have to suffer like that?”
He reached over and smudged away a tear that had slipped down her cheek with his thumb.
“Our journeys.” He pressed his lips together as he considered, looking off toward the mountains in the distance. “Yeah. Hard to figure—downright impossible—seems to me. But, we muddle along.” He turned back to her. “I was where you are once, and I’m still trying to figure it all out . . . what I’m supposed to be learning along my way. We’ll have our answers someday, I guess. Till then, all we can do is pray—help each other . . .”
He stroked her cheek again, though no trace of tear remained and continued, “How’s that passage go? Something about—how we now see through a glass, darkly—we only know part—but someday we’ll be face to face with our maker and know the rest?” Hawk added a lopsided smile. “Excuse my paraphrasing.”
***
Corinthians, she thought and watched his face. She too, recognized the power of the passage as it connected to her situation. And . . . how different it was to feel the strength of a man who was in touch with his strength—his faith. It, in turn, strengthened her. Heady stuff. Not something she had experienced with a man she was attracted to before. Now that she had, well, she’d never be satisfied with anything less.
They remained quiet for a couple of minutes, content to listen to the stream and the breeze, their senses taking in the peaceful scene. Through half-closed eyes, Lake stole a couple of glances at Hawk. She watched as he snapped off a long stem of grass and placed it between his teeth. He put his hands behind his head and settled back against the rock, eyes closed.
But, something Hawk had said earlier piqued her curiosity. She turned to him and, in a voice just above a whisper, “You said you have been where I am. Do you mind if I ask what you meant?”
He looked off toward the mountains, then removed the stem of grass he’d been nibbling at. He watched it as he spun it in his fingers, “I was nine when I came here to live with my grandfather. I was a Southern California kid. Mom and Dad and I lived there. They had a successful real estate business. Family business—Matthews’s side.” He shoved a little gravel around with the side of his boot. “When I was eight,” he paused, “mom got cancer.”
Lake winced.
“She fought,” he sighed, “but, a little over a year later. . . She’d have had a chance now . . . but, back then . . .” He cleared his throat and Lake was sure her heart gave an extra thump. He stared at his boot and pushed more gravel around.
Hawk’s chiseled profile was somber when he spoke. “Have
n’t talked about it much, just with my grandfather.” A deep breath. “Anyway—after mom died, my dad kind of, well—fell apart. He managed to help it along though, by a lot of self-medicating—mostly booze.” He paused momentarily, pushing more path gravel around with his boot. “I guess—while he still had some sense left, he sent me to up here to live with granddad—then drank himself into oblivion.” Hawk snorted. “Record time—took him less than a year. My grandad tried to do an intervention, but . . .” He shook his head and turned back to her. “So—there you go. Not so young as River, but still—losing them both—”
“I’m so sorry.”
Blue eyes locked with topaz. Her hand covered his without conscious thought. “You have been there. How did you ever—get over—it all?” She let the sentence trail off.
“Oh—yeah—I don’t think you ever get over stuff like that. Cope. Have faith. Try to figure out what it is you’re supposed to learn. My grandmother had been dead for about nine years when I got here.” His hand turned over under Lake’s and he held hers. One side of his mouth turned up as he looked to Lake. “Granddad had his own pain. First his wife, then his only daughter died . . . but he had a belief that pulled him through. Did his best to instill it in me. Saved me, I’m sure. I was a real mess when I showed up on his doorstep. Took him a few years, but between that and sculpting and all this,” his hand swept out in a gesture encompassing meadow and mountain, “somehow I found a way to make it.”
As he spoke, Lake could see in his eyes, that it was all still there, but he had evidently come to terms with it.
“When you think about it, nobody gets through this life without scars.” He said softly. “Walking wounded. That’s what we are a lot of the time.” He picked up a little stone and sent it plopping out into the stream.
Lake was moved to add softly, “That’s where faith comes in, I guess.” She hesitated. “Or should . . . But it’s so hard. I never expected to have mine tested in such a way. I kind of failed–” She picked up her own rock and tossed it into the water.
