by Julee Baker
“Lake,” he said gently, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Like I said, it’s a journey—not a sprint. And there’s a light at the end of the path. Just because you turn your head away doesn’t mean the light has stopped shining. It’s still there, to light your way, when you’re ready. You’ll get there.”
He squeezed her hand.
Lake’s stomach picked that opportune moment to growl. She blushed, adding an apologetic smile. “Oh. Nice. Embarrassing.”
Hawk checked his watch and frowned. “Ah. You should have said something.” He looked to her stomach as it growled again and laughed. “Oh, I guess you just did. I’m a poor host. How about, let’s go back to the cabin and scrounge up some lunch?” He rose to his feet, grabbing Lake’s hand and pulling her up.
“Oww.” She cringed and couldn’t help rubbing her backside a bit. Sitting on the rock had taken its toll.
Hawk grimaced and stretched a long leg. “We’ll find more comfortable chairs, too.”
“Don’t be sorry. About anything. It’s been good . . . getting to know you better, I mean.” Lake said the last part quietly and turned her look sideways to check his reaction.
“Good. Then my ‘make-up class’ plan has worked.” A satisfied smile spread across his tanned face, revealing those two dimples that fascinated Lake so.
They spent the next forty-five minutes enjoyably collaborating on, what they both agreed, were the absolute best BLT sandwiches either of them had ever eaten. But, Lake was sure that, on her part, Hawk’s company was the seasoning that made the sandwich so delicious.
While they’d constructed their sandwiches, it had given Lake an opportunity to watch him in his own environment. She’d clumsily tried to hide her interest, but was caught a couple of times. He just smiled. His eagerness to please was flattering. Considering the circumstances of their first meeting, She would never have pictured this cozy scene in a million years.
How things could change.
Hawk suggested fresh coffee to finish off their meal.
“I drink so much of the stuff, if I got a scrape, I’d bleed coffee,” he kidded.
“I definitely drink my share,” Lake said, “but I also make a mean cup of chai.”
“Chai, huh? Never tried it.”
“I’ll mix up my special brew for you sometime.”
“I’d willingly drink any potion you want me to.” He winked.
It was becoming difficult to keep her heart thumping at a normal pace. “When do I see your studio?” she asked.
“Well,” broad shoulders shrugged, “No time like the present. That is, if you have time today.”
Lake looked at her watch. “I’ve got a couple hours until River gets home from school.”
A whisper of doubt crossed her mind. “Oh, unless you are busy. When we were making lunch, you mentioned the “Wilderness Wild” show coming up. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
“Fortunately, my projects are almost wrapped up. I was stuck for a time, but lately I’ve been inspired.” His smile was genuine. “I’d love to show you.” He handed the GRRR emblazoned coffee cup to her. “Bring this. Spills are welcome in my studio.”
She followed him out and watched as he slid the big, cedar barn door open, appreciating the muscles working under the blue chambray shirt.
“How large are these sculptures?” Lake asked, directing her attention to the oversize doors.
“Oh—uhh,” he grunted as he pushed the massive door along it’s track, then continued, “I did a twenty-one foot, copper grizzly for ‘Wilderness Wild’, for their headquarters down in Missoula. That’s probably the tallest, so far.”
Lake’s jaw dropped. “How did you?”
“Two pieces. Then welded them together on site. There’s a picture on the wall above the worktable.”
She wandered over and looked at the photo of a group of people surrounding the impressive, stylized, copper grizzly, standing on its hind legs, paws flailing the air.
“Oh, wow. What a wonderful visual for their organization. Such power.”
As she stared at the photo, Hawk came up to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. She sobered at the sight of the beautiful blond in the picture, with her arm draped possessively around Hawk’s waist.
Hawk followed her gaze. “The board members from Wilderness Wild. Great group. They’re preserving a lot of land around here. Keeping the wild—wild for our children and their children and their children’s children. I usually donate a piece for their yearly auction.”
“Oh—a worthy cause. Generous of you. They . . . a . . .they look friendly,” she tacked on the end.
With a raised eyebrow and a sideways glance, he realized her focus and continued, “Oh, yeah—the friendly woman to my right? Cheryl Winters. She was my agent.”
“Was?”
“Yeah, well . . . I guess you could say she had a different idea where I was headed.”
“Artistic differences?”
“Ha. That’s rich.” His frown morphed into a scowl. “Cheryl and I dated. She had big plans for me, or, I should say—us. Problem was, Denver was the center of her universe and all her plans revolved around me moving there.” His laugh had a harsh edge to it. “Never happen. I’ll never leave Shadow. Still feel kind of slow for not figuring her out sooner.” He shook his head. “I mean, I’m not saying we didn’t have some good times, and she landed me a few good commissions, but she figured I’d jump at the chance to get a big place in Denver and, how’d she put it? –improve my situation.” A splinter of sunlight glinted gold off his eyes when he turned his face toward her again. “She didn’t know anything about who I really am.”
Lake sat down on a stool and began petting Elle while listening to Hawk. The dog’s tail wagged, stirring up a sawdust cloud from the concrete studio floor. She then proceeded to rest her head on Lake’s thigh.
Hawk continued, “When things started to go south, she even let it slip that she didn’t like my dog.” He feigned a playful look of disbelief at the canine. “Can you believe it?” He squatted down and petted Elle, too. “No way. I can’t believe it either girl.” Then smiled at Lake adding, “You’ve heard the old saying, “Love me, love my dog.”
“I think I might’ve heard that one.” Lake lingered in his look for a moment, then, losing her nerve, moved the subject away from the former girlfriend. “What’s under the blanket?”
Hawk spent the next few minutes showing Lake the stainless-steel cougar and the smaller eagle he was crafting for the show. Impressed was an understatement. How could a woman ever think to try to remove this man from this place? It was obvious, he was in his element.
A sigh escaped her. “I envy you. You’ve found your place in the world.” She traced her finger down the smooth silver line of the cougar.
Hawk watched Lake trail her hand down the steel of the cougar’s front leg. He cleared his throat, “It’s big country . . . I love it, that’s true. Lately though . . . feels like something’s kinda’ missing.”
“You’re lucky you have Elle.”
“You’re right.” he patted the dog again. “She’s great.” But he wasn’t being put off. “What are you afraid of?” His voice held a husky note as he studied her.
She looked at him with a lopsided smile and raised eyebrow. “Let’s see . . . apart from a terror of small planes—which you’ve already witnessed?” She smiled crookedly, then continued. “There seems to be quite a list forming. If you would have asked me a year ago, I would have honestly said—not much. But now, after the accident, with the responsibility of raising River, all my questions, and a year-long relationship over,” she snapped her fingers, “just like that, I’m having doubts about my decision-making abilities.”
Hawk’s gaze narrowed. “Your decision about ending the relationship?”
“What? Oh. Jeremy? Oh—no. True colors and all that.” Lake was past the initial hurt, now to the point she could smirk at the memory of hi
s hasty retreat. “As soon as River entered the picture, it was—exit stage left.” Another sigh. “It left me doubting my judgment—in men, for sure. I mean, why didn’t I figure him out sooner?”
He searched her face. “One man is not men, Lake. Give the rest of mankind a chance.” He frowned and tugged at her braid. “Let me rephrase—this man, anyway.”
Then he opened-up that smile of his—broad and open as the big Montana sky.
She answered with her own. And it was more than the dimples. It felt good, so good, being in his company out here. Could Hawk Matthews be everything he seemed? She wanted to believe.
As Lake looked to Hawk, her eyes caught the time on the wall clock over his right shoulder. She would have to hurry to get home before River.
“Where did the time go? I’ve gotta run. Thanks again. For everything. Honestly. I had the best time here today, with you. Thanks.” She placed a hand on his arm.
“My pleasure.” He covered her hand with his. “First of many?”
She nodded and they walked in amicable conversation to her jeep.
They said their goodbyes and he didn’t try to kiss her—which left her a little disappointed. But on the drive home, she thought more about it. Hawk knew she was at a vulnerable point in her life. If he didn’t want to push her . . . well . . . he became all the more special for that.
ELEVEN
A Visitor
T
he next few days went by in such a flurry of activity that Lake had little time to daydream—probably a good thing. Timeframes was wrapping up ahead of schedule. There were frequent calls from her editor and quite a bit of correspondence to address from those using her stock photos. Business was picking up. Fran’s son Tyler had really helped streamline her stock files over the winter. It was proving to be a big timesaver now.
River’s excitement continued to build about Ranger Randy’s upcoming visit to his school. Being the last week before summer vacation, he was bouncing off the walls, ready to be released onto the Montana wilderness.
Lake promised to take him on as many excursions as she could over the summer. He was all about that. Little bro was becoming a regular little tree hugger—and a pretty good artist to boot. She smiled and thumbed through his notebook. It was on his worktable, set up in one corner of the studio so he could work on his projects, while Lake worked on hers. River had an intense curiosity about everything outdoors. She had given him a notebook to keep track of his observations and he was diligent, in his six-year-old way.
Lake laughed to herself. Note taking definitely did not come from dad, but the love of the outdoors was all McDonald.
She set River’s book down, picked up her Nikon and set out for her daily, pre-dawn walk, so grateful Fran was an early riser too. Not many sitters were willing to start their day at five a.m., and work a lot of split-shifts.
This morning, a surge of, what was it—confidence—self-assurance—peace? —about her decision to stay in Harmony came over her. Her long morning walks—taking her past everything from shopkeepers readying for the day, to the inspiring mountain views, filled with crisp air and the sounds of a world waking up—only herself and God—filled her up.
It was a kind of meditation.
She was steadily ridding herself of the discordant elements and doubts that had plagued her after the crash, feeling a new hope. Harmony, she mused. Yes, the music of life was blending together again.
She snapped an interesting cloud formation developing and spent a few extra minutes watching it, hoping the sun would catch the tops of the clouds with a bit more strength. But, it wasn’t to be this morning. She headed like a homing pigeon, from the park toward Suzanne’s.
She checked her watch—just enough time to grab a quick cup of chai and a morning treat. Pecan roll or turnover? Decisions, decisions.
Lake was about to pull the door open to the café when it was pushed open from the inside by John Colter. He opened it for a sixty-ish, grey-haired woman. Dressed in blue-jeans and a flannel-shirt, she appeared wiry and fit.
The woman’s gray-blue eyes examined Lake as she passed. Lake was pretty-sure she hadn’t met her before. She smiled, and the woman smiled back, then turned to her companion. Lake avoided looking Colter. She hadn’t run into him since she’d exposed his faked photos of Hawk’s dog and she was concerned something inappropriate might pop out of her mouth—or his.
They passed and Lake entered the café. At the counter she stood, crooking her head slightly to watch them out the window.
“I know what you’re thinking—odd-couple,” said Suzanne, following her gaze from behind the counter.
“Oh. No. I wasn’t . . . I mean I don’t know . . . Who is that woman? She looked pretty hard at me, but I don’t think I know her . . .”
“You meet her at Hawk’s?”
Lake was taken aback by the fact Suz was aware that she’d been out to Hawk’s place. Did Hawk say something? Oh, she had mentioned it to River. Must have been him. Wow, news travels fast. The small-town grapevine was evidently alive and flourishing.
“Why would I see her there?” Lake frowned. “And how’d you know I was at Hawk’s?”
“Ah.” Suzanne reached over the counter and gave Lake’s shoulder a nudge. “You two are perfect for each other. I can tell. I’m so excited. I said, from the first day you two were in here, there was a lot of electricity happening.” She giggled and wiggled. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Whooooa, slow down there, cookie. We’re just . . . we’re just . . . getting better acquainted. Don’t start baking the cake yet.” Lake shook her head, but it didn’t seem to faze the grinning Suzanne.
“Oh. Yes.” Her hand went to Lake’s shoulder again. “I can do that.” Her eyes widened.
“Suzanne. Stop—really—full stop.” Lake’s cheeks pinked and she attempted to redirect the conversation, which had turned a few heads their way.
“Back to my question—who was that woman? Why would I have seen her at Hawk’s?” Lake asked quietly.
“Monica Barnes? She’s Hawk’s neighbor. Forever. I thought you might have run into her there. Doesn’t come in here too much anymore.” Suzanne shook her head. “I don’t quite get that duo, though.”
They both looked out the window at the pair. Monica Barnes sat in the driver’s seat of her blue Ford pickup with the window down, Colter still talking to her.
The name rang bells. Hadn’t Hawk’s friend Joey, the one killed in the old mine, been named Barnes?
“Is that the mother of Hawk’s friend, Joey that—?”
“Yeah, the same. Sad story. No other kids. She’s a widow. Never remarried. Can’t see her being pals with the likes of Colter, though. Go figure.”
Lake chose three cherry turnovers for River, Fran and herself, and walked down the sidewalk, casting a covert look in their direction, but, by that time, they were both driving away. Time for River to wake up. She didn’t usually cut it this close.
“Mornin’ buddy. Hey Riv, time to wake up.” She said softly. “Big day today, remember? Ranger Randy?” She spoke in low tones so not to startle him awake. She hated being startled awake. It had happened enough to her over the last few months.
“Morning Lake!” River threw back the covers and hopped out of bed fully dressed.
Lake jumped about three feet.
“Ha, I fooled you!” He doubled over with laughter.
“Why, you sneaky little . . . possum.” Lake tackled him on the bed and gave him a good dose of tickles. As soon as he begged her to stop, she did.
“What in the world? Did you sleep in your clothes last night?” Lake tried to frown at him. She’d been in to kiss him goodnight and tuck him in. The covers were pulled up tight around his chin. She angled a look at him.
River grinned sheepishly. “I wanted to be ready for today. I don’t want to be late.”
“River, you’re never late.”
“I know, but just in case. Hey, don’t forg
et. You can come by the school and watch when Ranger Randy is there. Two o’clock. They said parents could come and I asked Miss James if it was okay if my sister came instead. And she said ab-sa-loot-ly. That means really, really okay.”
Lake swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought of all the situations like this River would have to face. It could break your heart if you dwelt on it. She shoved the feeling away and continued with an extra dose of enthusiasm.
“I can hardly wait.” She tickled him again and turned him toward the kitchen. “Now—breakfast. I bought a special treat for us this morning, cherry turnovers.” He rushed to the kitchen at the mention of his favorite. “You can go as soon as you’re finished.”
Breakfast didn’t take long. River was soon on his way to the corner to meet up with Zach for the walk to school. He was practically bouncing off the sidewalk. Lake watched him from the upstairs window till they met.
After River’s repeated pleading, insisting, once again, that he wasn’t a baby—she stopped walking him to school. But it hadn’t stopped her from watching over him, or arranging with Zach’s mom for the boys to meet and walk together.
She went down to the studio and rounded out most of the morning on the phone. Casey was fussing about a couple of details on the book. She’d called three times the past hour. When her phone buzzed again, Lake rolled her eyes and picked up.
“A strong cup of coffee. That’s what you need.” Lake told her.
“I’m always game for a strong cup of coffee. Can I consider that an invitation?”
Not Casey. Hawk’s pleasant, deep tones—tinged with a chuckle resonated through the phone.
Lake brightened. He’d called on Monday to just to say hi, explaining he was tied up with a few finishing touches on one of the sculptures. The Wilderness Wild Show in Denver, was coming up fast. She hadn’t talked to him since then, but he’d been on her mind all week.
“Oh, Hawk. Hi. I’ve been playing phone tag all morning with my editor. We’re wrapping things up. She needs caffeine, though. Oh, and yes. Consider it an invitation.” She checked her watch, at the same time doing a mental inventory of her fridge. “It’s almost noon. I’ll even throw in a couple turkey sandwiches with the coffee. Are you in town?”
