Spirit Lake

by Christine DeSmet

  “I broke into David's office and took it."

  “You what? Don't go making headlines on your own without consulting me."

  His sudden ire stunned her. “What headlines?"

  “A person of your stature breaking into a law office because you're curious about an old gangster's house, which happens to belong to an Eastern lady with ties to the disappearing Wescott brothers? How does it sound to you? Why not take a gun and shoot yourself, because something like that puts an X on your chest for Rojas.” He spun in the grass, raking his hair. “I thought we were in this together."

  Laurel swallowed hard. She hadn't thought it through to that extent. “I'm sorry. I want the truth about what's going on."

  “So do I!” he snapped with fire-stoked eyes, clasping her until her body trembled in unison with his.

  And then he released her.

  “This partnership isn't going to work, this friendship you want,” he continued in a voice coming from deep within him, “because of the truth."

  Agony scorched across his face and he backed off, several steps, turning away from her to limp a few feet off into the tall grass, allowing a couple of expletives in his wake.

  “Something's wrong.” She swallowed hard. “You better tell me."

  Shaking his head, he turned, his face resigned to a sullen pallor. “Why didn't you tell me about the baby?"

  Laurel wanted the dark earth to open up and swallow her, to steal her away from this poacher's eyes. “What baby?"

  “Yours and Kipp's."

  Her palms perspired, the blood thundering through her. “Why Cole? Why do you make love to me one minute, then turn on me like some rabid beast?"

  “Because with you I'm made to confront emotions that I don't like, remember? I speak gut-level truth now and you fault me?"

  Feeling dizzy, she turned away, slipping a hand to her forehead. The iciness startled her. “Lies are what you live by, Mr. Atlas, the man who didn't even have the guts to tell me who he really was when we first met weeks ago."

  “The baby you had with Kipp was real. How can you not tell me about this? Damn you, Laurel, you're keeping me on the outside, feeding me crumbs."

  “And you can't stand not having every piece of the puzzle so you can put it together yourself. Driven, as usual."

  “I can't stand the feeling that for every step forward our relationship takes, you seem intent on going back a step. And it has to do with sharing—"

  “You have no right to my memories about Kipp or my son."

  His gaze fell fallow, tracking into the dim sunlight and away from her. “I have a son. To lose him, well, I can't imagine what you've been through. I only know how it hurts just thinking of such things."

  Rippling fear engulfed her. She didn't want to relive it all. Not now. “Please don't worry about me. I appreciate that you care, but..."

  Squeezing her hand, he sighed. “But you don't trust me."

  Taking her hand, clasping his heat around her quaking fingers, he began leading them back to the mansion through the tall grass. For a long time, they took their time, with him limping, the weeds rustling against them, the birds crafting their thoughts. She was grateful for his respectful silence.

  When he stopped to rest his leg, he raised her hand to his lips, planting a firm kiss on every knuckle. “You are strong. I was right about that at least. You've moved forward. I respect that. It's what I have to do with Mike, move forward beyond the grief, the blame."

  “The blame?” She grew hot, hoping he wasn't leading to another of their disagreements.

  “It's what comes between people. Blame. It's between us, for example, like a fence. A fence with no gate, no way over.” She wanted to pursue his words, but the quick brush of his lips on hers sent a tremor rippling through her. He muttered, “I'm going to kiss you more often. I love what it does."

  Her heart tharumped. “What does it do?"

  “Makes your eyes the color of the ocean on a sunny day. That warm, frothy green that looks so inviting."

  His gaze defied the sunset, but the intensity held her captive and uncomfortable.

  “What?” she asked, fearing his need for truth, fearing the emotion of losing her child sweeping through and debilitating her as it used to.

  But Cole didn't respond in a predictable way. Instead of words, instead of a challenging answer, he drew her against him so that they could watch the puffs of clouds now tinged with lavender and pink scuttle across the horizon over Spirit Lake. Her breathing soon matched the cadence of Cole's, his heat seeping through her back, warming through to her stomach, relaxing the knot a bit. He even smelled new, freshened by the grasses they'd lain in and the spring water they'd splashed in.

  On a cardinal's raucous intrusion, he asked, “You always deserved contentment. Did Kipp bring you that?"

  A chill rattled her. “How would you define contentment?"

  Squeezing her against him more tightly, he muttered against her hair, “For you, it's walks in the meadow and watching sunsets."

  Laurel glanced at the red line on the horizon. Searching her memory, she couldn't recall Kipp sitting still long enough to watch a sunset. Instead, he'd be off playing cards with her father and a bunch of guys down at the bait shop.

  She looked at Cole. What habits would he settle into someday with a wife? She would never know. “Kipp wasn't all that talkative about sunsets."

  As they stepped onward through the queen anne's lace, clover and grass, Cole clung to her hand again, swinging it between when space in the path allowed. “I like the idea that your loved ones are buried nearby. My parents have already bought plots in England where dad's from, and the whole idea of oceans between us bugs the hell out of me."

  She allowed a smile. “Sometimes I'd love my mother to be an ocean away."

  His chuckle eased the strain of their conversations. “But you love her."

  “My mother says it's silly the way I pretty-up the graveyard all the time with flowers."

  “But there's nothing more beautiful than to drive by a country churchyard, seeing the flowers, knowing someone cares."

  “Why Cole, you sound positively wistful. It's not a side of you I see often enough."

  He growled, planting a firm hand at her waist and tugging her against his side for a moment of rest. “I remember every moment of marrying ourselves in that church. We made promises to help each other through thick and thin."

  The sweet surprise of his memory wafted fresh as the breeze whispering off the lake. “You remembered saying that?"

  “You refused the stuff about ‘obey,’ so we did the ‘thick and thin’ routine.” The breeze tousled his dark hair, lifting it off the hint of worry lines that the years had etched.

  “Maybe the vow didn't take because we didn't use the right words?"

  “Nah. Eloping and marrying ourselves probably wasn't the way for us."

  “We did it too fast?” she asked, anxiety creeping in.

  “Probably like everything else. And you know what they say."

  “Haste makes waste?” she offered. “Maybe it was the witness part. We only had one and I think we're supposed to use two."

  He slipped his arm up around her shoulders. “Come to think of it, she was a bit stiff about the whole thing."

  Allowing herself a smile, the anxiety scuttled away. “Mary was a statue in the corner behind the altar."

  “She just stared at us the whole time. Maybe she should have objected?"

  Laurel lived for these light moments with him. His humor was a perfect counter-balance to her seriousness. When had she grown so serious? She used to be ... so devil-may-care, just like Cole. Regret niggled her. A promise, too, to think about this more.

  She'd give anything for this day to never end. Because she knew she wanted to share more about herself with Cole. For a long time she'd carried burdens, secrets. All alone.

  “If it matters,” she ventured, “I'd like to tell you what it was like after you left."

  “O
f course it matters."

  “I left town for a while."

  She appreciated his shocked look of disbelief. “I needed to get away. Everyone stared at me, and never seemed to get over what you and I did."

  “What didn't we do. Start with the car."

  “My father never stopped reminding me about the new car we wrecked. It became symbolic. What he meant was, I'd been stupid."

  Robins chirped, heralding the impending sunset. Her courage flagged. The meadow grew dank-smelling.

  Cole offered, “It must have been hard to start relationships again with the populace of Dresden looking on."

  “Yes.” She'd never admitted that to anyone. “I felt small, as if I'd shrunk before everyone's eyes."

  “Back in Florida, I wrestled with Mike, who gave me the cold shoulder, even more than my parents about the whole thing. He liked you."

  She hiked an eyebrow at him. “I thought you two were inseparable."

  “Mike may have only been a year younger, but he acted the role of the big brother. He was probably why I got on with my life so soon. I loved my brother and couldn't stand him not respecting me."

  She smiled again, but it was bittersweet and for him. “We all need special people in our lives like Mike to give us direction."

  “It must have been easy, now that I think about it, to choose between a joke like me and someone like Kipp."

  Her forehead grew hot. She was glad for the cover of evening's shade. “Loving Kipp wasn't about you.” A partial lie. “It was about getting on with my life. I was prepared to make it all work."

  “So was I with Stephanie."

  “But you divorced."

  “My racing schedule.” He swiped up a few grass blades to twirl. “And when the weather was right on the seas for salvaging, I had to go. Before I knew it, Tyler was spending all his time with Mike and Karen and his cousin Timmy. He didn't know me."

  Her heart lurched for him. A breeze kicked up again. A nighthawk began an early serenade.

  Clearing his throat, he added, “Tyler and I were spending more time together lately because he's taken an interest in scuba diving. I hired Lisa to give him lessons so that Tyler would be around the harbor where I work."

  “I bet Tyler thinks that's cool."

  “Lisa and the diving, yes. Me? I still had the damn job that I couldn't let go of.” He twirled the grass between thumb and forefinger. “Ever feel resigned to your lot in life?"

  “Resigned?” The notion scalded her fierce pride. “Do you view me as resigned? About what?"

  Licking his lips, he took his time, too much time. “I just keep remembering that tomboy I used to know, that woman who crashed cars, laughed, looked life in the eye."

  “That's still me."

  “Is it? Or is that part of you only allowed out on good days?"

  “Cole?"

  “Ah hell. I'm the same way.” He tossed the grass stems aside. “Forget I said anything."

  But she couldn't. They went on, the weeds rustling against the rhythm of their hips. Had she neglected that crazy, tomboy part of her? What kind of woman was she to allow that to happen?

  He was limping on, leaving her behind in the meadow.

  She rushed to catch up, took a bold move and plunked his arm about her shoulders while snaking the other around his waist. He flashed a glance her way, but they moved on in silence, thoughts of their impending parting for good tearing at her. Even without his boss and Mike's murder, she recalled what he'd said about the blame between them being a fence. No relationship had a chance when blame lurked in their hearts, and it did. It seemed neither of them knew how to get rid of it, either.

  Finally, when he'd sighed several times, and she realized it wasn't about his leg, she asked, “What is it, Cole?"

  “I'm thinking too much."

  “About what?"

  “My son. Do you think my son will ever love me? In that proud way? I saw it once. He'd just learned to ride his bike, and when he rode it toward me, wobbling and ready to crash any moment, all that mattered to me was his crazy grin and the light sparking in his eyes when he looked at me. That's a look a father never forgets. It's a look a father wants back again."

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Before this riveting tender side of Cole could swamp her, she attempted levity. “A teenage boy saying ‘I love you’ to his dad? You might be setting yourself up for disappointment at this stage."

  “Especially with a dad who drops out of sight.” He snorted. “A few years, he'll be getting a driver's license. Then he'll have a car and I won't see him again."

  “Gee, let's just wish the rest of our life away."

  He flashed her a toothy smile. “You're good for me Laurel Lee."

  “Don't read too much into it."

  “Deal!” he said with a bravado that lightened the mood. “I should bring Tyler up here sometime. Maybe with Timmy. Could I do that, Laurel?” Pinpricks of light from the ebbing sunset illuminated a dance in his eyes.

  Could she stand to have him visit again? Especially if he brought along his living son? Would it bring the pain of her dead son back to her? She thought it might. She didn't know if she had strength to face that.

  When she looked at Cole, the dance in his eyes tripped over into her, tapping up a storm in that empty house of a heart, filling her head with memories of laughter, warmth, walks amid fragrant summer flowers. A visit every so often would be better than never seeing him again. She was strong, right? She had to prove she was.

  “When this is all over, we can talk about Tyler visiting."

  Reaching out with an index finger, he lifted her chin. Electricity zigzagged down her middle and into her toes.

  He was a massive silhouette to be reckoned with alone in the wilderness. She whispered, “We need to be getting home."

  “I can't leave without giving you what I found in the lockbox,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Then you did find something.” Disappointment laced her elation. “Why didn't you tell me about this until now?"

  “It's not what I expected. I ... need to show it to you. It's not something I can explain. Like the way I feel right now.” He drew her close, the air between them crackling, smelling ominous as a storm. “Can I stay the night?"

  The nighthawk cried. Birch leaves rustled. A dankness arose around them, promising fog would roll in soon off Spirit Lake. The mesmerizing depth of darkness in his eyes hushed the rapid beating of her heart.

  Was that a thumb tempting her lips in a feathery touch, or just the nighthawk dipping past?

  Cole was doing it again. He wanted a night. He couldn't promise more. She shouldn't expect him to promise more. It was time to move on and accept what she had with him. Could she?

  A shiver skittered across her heated skin.

  His hand slid down against her neck, the thumb pressing against the heartbeat in her throat.

  “Laurel?"

  “I want you to stay.” For all time. “For the night."

  * * * *

  SHERIFF JOHN Petski sat in his office, sweaty and tired from chasing two loose riding horses down a highway with tourists still attached. He didn't need Buzz snooping around looking for news tonight.

  Standing over the desk, Buzz sniffed. “Big story?"

  “Aw, darn tourist fell from his horse and got up just in time to step too close to my squad car. I ran over the man's foot."

  Buzz grumbled, “I missed a good photo?"

  “I don't think you'd be able to use it,” John said, pen scratching through the report he had to file. “Guy wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing."

  That caused the editor pause, but he recovered, slapping a photo and news article down next to the sheriff. “I got a better photo anyway. You know who this is?"

  The computer-enhanced photo threw a chill into John. He didn't need Buzz turning detective and spoiling the game plan he and Cole had cooked up with Wiley. “Dang it, Buzz, of course I know who this is. Atlas. I hired him to tune up some motors on my boats.
"

  “This guy looks an awful lot like the famous Wescott murderer."

  “What murder?” John swiped up the article. His veins ran cold. It was Wescott. Damn. They'd have to step up their plans. But he couldn't let on to Buzz, not the town crier. “Just a coincidence. I checked Atlas's prints already."

  Buzz harumphed. “I'm taking a ride out to Laurel's anyway."

  “Now, Buzz—

  But the editor was out the door, slamming it so hard two of John's award plaques for bravery in the line of duty crashed to the floor.

  Hurrying to grab his hat, John knew time was running out in more ways than one. He only hoped Buzz would play into their plan instead of messing it up. Or got somebody killed.

  * * * *

  COLE MELDED with the shadows and the faint light bathing the room from the cabin's fireplace. The budding flames sputtered in the centers of his chocolate eyes, while his skin took on the coppery patina of the aged pine walls.

  Laurel sat in the rocker on the opposite end of the hearth, watching him search through his stuffed backpack. “Why don't you just turn it upside down on the floor."

  Firm lips parted into a smile when he looked up at her from the rag rug. “That'd be too easy. Besides, this is special. I don't want it hitting the stone in the fireplace."

  She was intrigued all the more. During the entire long stroll back from the meadow, he'd remained mysteriously quiet. Focused on some secret. He didn't even respond to her comments about the owl in the tall maple calling to Owlsy in her shed. Without a word, he'd followed her through a quick check on the animals.

  Now, he withdrew his hand from the bag, and Laurel thought she glimpsed metal. “Jewelry? What the sheriff referred to?"

  He nodded. Still hiding the treasure, Cole stood, giving her a crooked grin that pushed a dimple in one cheek. Hiking an eyebrow, he looked to her like a boy about to give his best girl his best frog.

  She didn't know whether to giggle or play it straight. She erred toward the latter, nudging him with, “Well, what is it?"

  “You can't let your eyes land on it unless you say you'll accept it first."

  “Is it something you found in the ocean?"

  “No.” Stepping toward her, he tucked the hand behind him. “It's a silly thing. Embarrassing, really."