SHIVER

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “That’s all I could make out. Are you married?”

  “No. Are you?”

  She lifted her head and met his gaze. If she were going to ask pointed questions, then so was he. “Uh, no.”

  “Fox’s father?”

  She glanced away. “We…uh…weren’t suited.”

  It didn’t look as though she was going to say any more on the subject. “I asked Sonya to marry me.”

  Raven looked at him again. “She’s your fiancée then?”

  “No. She didn’t want to marry me. She’s in love with another man.”

  “But you’re still in love with her?”

  Was he? Being back here and seeing Raven had tipped his world. He’d tried for the last twelve years to forget her and her family, transferring a lot of what he felt for them to Sonya and her family—his fish camp neighbors in the summertime when he commercial fished in Bristol Bay.

  “Don’t answer that,” Raven said, standing, and smoothing her hands down her jeans.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm. “I thought I loved her. But it wasn’t a strong love.” She tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t let go. For some reason it was too important that she know. “I wanted the kind of love that we had with her, but it didn’t work.” He paused, then added quietly, “She wasn’t you.”

  Her eyes flicked away from his, and she wetted her lips. “I need to go and see what’s keeping Fox. You must be starved.”

  He released her, and she ran from the room.

  Why had he said that? He had no chance with her.

  Not when his father had killed hers.

  She wasn’t you.

  Raven ran from Aidan’s room, gasping. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded and her palms sweated.

  She wasn’t you.

  Did he still care for her? After all these years? After all she’d done? What was she thinking? There was no room for Aidan in her life. Not with the past between them. She couldn’t allow there to be. Fox had to be considered. She’d been very careful with him, raised her son to be different than his genetics. The part of him that had come from Aidan, and Aidan’s parents, Earl and Marjorie Harte. There was also Roland Harte—Earl’s brother—to be considered, who liked to visit during the winter, trailing mischief and mayhem in his tracks. Roland had also done jail time, hadn’t he? How many Hartes had spent time in jail? Earl was a murderer. Dangerous, mean, and cunning. She’d seen that same kind of cunning in Fox. She didn’t want any of the Hartes’ unsavory qualities to negatively influence her son. She’d made life-altering decisions based on that reasoning.

  Raven entered the kitchen and found Fox and Fiona along with her grandmother, Coho, who sat at the table beading an intricate Athabascan design into a leather band while Fiona helped Fox put together a tray of food.

  “Hey, Gran,” Raven greeted, dropping into a seat across from her grandmother.

  “Camai, birdie. A few exciting days you’ve had.” Coho frowned over her bifocals. “I had to hear these things from others, you understand.”

  “I’m sorry, Gran, but I have been busy taking care of that man.”

  “And how is Aidan doing? I have missed him over the years. Such an interesting boy. So unlike his black-hearted father and weak-minded mother.” She sighed and threaded beads onto her needle. “It’s nice to know he didn’t follow in his parents’ footsteps.”

  “What do you mean?” Raven asked. How would Coho know what Aidan had done with his life? She didn’t even know.

  “I thought you knew? Fox has known for years.”

  “Grandma Great,” Fox rushed over. “You weren’t—”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She laughed. “I wasn’t supposed to tell. Oops.” She smiled, acting forgetful, but Raven knew she was anything but. Coho’s mind was as sharp as the needle she pierced through the leather band.

  “What weren’t you supposed to tell?” Raven looked to her grandmother and then to her son, who glanced at his feet. “What’s going on?”

  “Better come clean, grandson,” Coho said out of the corner of her month as she continued to sew beads into the leather strip.

  Fox fidgeted but glanced at Raven when he spoke. “I know who Aidan Harte is.”

  Raven’s breath caught. Her son knew Aidan was his father? How? Nobody knew. She’d never told a living soul.

  Fox went over to his backpack and pulled out a book, laying it on the table in front of her. “Mr. Harte is a famous graphic novelist. See, he writes a series of novels that feature the powers of the totem.”

  “This is what you didn’t want me to know?” Raven frowned. So Fox didn’t know Aidan was his father? The light in the room seemed to dim as Raven’s heart tried to regain its normal rhythm.

  “Uh, you probably wouldn’t consider them appropriate reading material.” Fox hesitated to begin. “But they so are,” he rushed on. “He writes about the battle between good and evil and good always wins, though sometimes it looks like there is no way they can, but he always makes it happen.”

  “Where did you get these?” She caught the look shared between Fiona and Fox.

  “I ordered them off the Internet,” he mumbled.

  “With whose help?” Raven shot a look at her mother.

  “With mine,” Fiona answered, raising her chin. “I didn’t see the harm in it, and besides, I’ve read them and they are quite good. It’s nice to know that Aidan has made such a success of himself.”

  Raven picked up the glossy book and thumbed through it, a little smaller than the size of a magazine but bound like a novel. The pages were full of vibrant colors, the words captured in bubbles. Kind of like the old-time comic books, but in a much more elegant, sophisticated style. She immediately recognized the level of talent it would have taken to draw the characters and settings. She glanced at the front where Aidan’s name was prominently featured in bold letters. “Can I read this?”

  Fox looked worried. Appropriate content? Right.

  “Sure, but keep an open mind, Mom. See the whole story, not just a few of the scenes. Okay?”

  Raven raised a brow but nodded.

  “Who is taking a lunch tray to Aidan?” Fiona asked. “Fox or you?”

  She raised her hand. “I will.” She didn’t want her son getting more attached to Aidan than he already was.

  “But, Mom,” Fox objected. “I wanted to.”

  “Is your homework done?” She nailed him with a look. “Chores?”

  “No, and no,” he muttered.

  “Get them done then. Besides, Mr. Harte needs a lot of rest so that he can recover quickly.” And get the hell out of their lives before he really messed them up more than he already had.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Raven walked into Aidan’s bedroom, balancing the tray on one hand. The bed was empty. Could she be so lucky? She heard colorful words coming from the bathroom. Guess not. She set down the tray on the nightstand and followed the cursing. Aidan was sprawled out on the floor, one of his crutches completely out of his reach by the linen closet. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to take care of myself,” he growled like a wounded bear.

  “You’ve been in bed with a fever for two days. I won’t even bring up the trap. You have no business getting out of bed. You want a relapse?”

  “I need a shower.” He looked at her with that same look Fox developed when he decided he had to do something right this minute and was going to be stubborn about it.

  “And you thought you could accomplish that by yourself?” He was just like any other man. Stupid.

  “You want to give me a hand?” he asked. “Help me undress, soap me up, dry me off?” He raised that brow of his, suggestive and sardonic at the same time. How did he do that with one look?

  “No, I don’t want to help you.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “I’ve been giving you sponge baths for two days. Believe me, you are clean. You don’t need a shower.”

  “So…” He cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t dre
am that?”

  The sponge bath or the kiss followed by the almost sex? She felt heat rise in her cheeks. Just what did he remember? “Dream what?”

  “You. Us. On the bed. Together. My fingers inside—”

  “Dreaming!” she interrupted. “You definitely were dreaming that.”

  He gave her a look that said he wasn’t buying it, but he let the subject drop. “You going to help me up, or leave me here on the floor?”

  She would have loved to leave him on the floor, but she was never one for tormenting someone. Unless it resulted in pleasure for them both. Like that time she had—

  What was she doing? Remembering their sexual escapades wouldn’t do either of them any good. She walked over to the crutch that had skidded across the floor and picked it up. “How did you end up in this position anyway?”

  “Reached to turn on the shower. Lost my balance and came down on my bad leg. It gave out, and I went down.”

  She pursed her lips. “Do you think it’s broken then?”

  “I don’t know. but it hurts a hell of a lot.”

  “It’s supposed to stop snowing sometime this afternoon. They’ll get the plows out here hopefully tomorrow or the next day.” Until then, it looked as though she was stuck playing nursemaid.

  Why didn’t the reality of that upset her as much as it had earlier?

  Aidan sighed with relief once he was back in the bed. The trip to the bathroom and then the literal trip in the bathroom had taken what strength he’d had. The fever had zapped him of everything it seemed. He was shaky, tired, and his head pounded like an Inuit drummer calling for the sun. He watched through narrowed lids as Raven tended to him. Her actions were fast and choppy like she was nervous.

  He hadn’t dreamt that he’d had his hands on her, his lips. That she had moaned his name, kissed him, grabbed his hips. She still desired him. He smiled inwardly. He hadn’t felt good about himself for a long time. Life had sucked for a long time.

  Whether Raven wanted to admit it or not, she still cared. Her body’s response didn’t lie like the words coming out of her mouth. The same mouth that had kissed him, bit him.

  She propped a pillow under his leg and covered him with a light blanket. He was still only wearing boxers. She kept stealing glances at his bare chest so he folded the blanket down, letting it rest over his hips as he leaned against the headboard. She set the tray across his lap and then moved back.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I can’t remember a time when I’ve been so hungry.” He looked over Raven’s body until she blushed. Satisfaction rose inside him, warming him. He glanced at the tray of food wishing he could take a taste of her instead. A bowl of hearty stew with a side of crusty bread, lathered in butter, and canned peaches filled the plate. “Let Fiona know how much I appreciate her.”

  “You’ll be able to tell her yourself, later.”

  He tried the stew. Full-favored with chunks of moose meat. Must be leftovers from the roast the other day.

  Raven busied herself straightening up the room while he spooned in the stew. There wasn’t much to clean so she soon didn’t have anything to do. She took a seat in the rocker and curled her feet up under her. A yawn surprised her. He wondered how much sleep she’d gotten while caring for him the last few days.

  She caught him watching her. “Eva should be here to check on you soon.”

  He grimaced. “The demon nurse from hell?”

  She cracked a laugh. “You called that right. But she does know her stuff.” Raven leaned her head back against the chair.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  “I’m fine.” She yawned again.

  “No, you’re not.” He spooned more of the stew into his mouth and chewed.

  “Don’t worry about me.” She scowled at him.

  He set the spoon down. “Does it bother you that I think about you? That I’ve thought about you many times over the years?” His voice lowered. “Wondered how you were?”

  “Don’t do that.” She stiffened. “If you thought about me like you say, why didn’t you ever call?” She clamped her mouth shut, lips tightening into a line, as though she couldn’t believe she’d just asked that.

  “You told me to never contact you again. Made me promise, remember?” He looked down at his stew, his appetite waning. “After your dad died, you had every right to hate me. I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

  “You were. You did.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “It was what I wanted.”

  “Is it still?”

  Her eyes met his, large and dark, and swimming with secrets. Would she be honest with him? She had missed him, he knew it. The way she’d responded to him told the tale, but was it enough with what lay between them? She opened her mouth to answer and then promptly closed it. The demon nurse from hell entered the room looking sweet in pink. What he wouldn’t give to know what Raven had been about to say at that moment.

  “Hey, you’re awake,” Eva said as she sailed into the room, tossing her coat over the end of the bed and a bag on the floor. “And it looks as though the fever has gone.” She turned to Raven. “Good job, told you sponge baths would do the trick.” She regarded Aidan. “About time you started to cooperate.”

  Like this had been his fault. He set aside the meal, finding himself full after only eating half of what was on the tray. Eva took his vitals, checked his blood pressure, and removed his bandages, all in the space of a few minutes. The little Napoleonite didn’t waste time. She was efficient, if not compassionate, in her ministrations.

  “Hmm,” she hummed, while regarding his leg.

  “What?” he asked, trying to see what she did.

  “The swelling has gone down. I still want an x-ray as soon as we can get you to Fairbanks.” She narrowed a look at him. “Don’t go thinking you can get up and do cartwheels now.”

  He hadn’t been thinking cartwheels, but getting out of this room was at the top of his list. Cabin fever had already started to wander in. The last few days, he’d only seen Eva, Raven, Fiona, and a little of Fox. He hadn’t seen anything of Lynx, who was obviously avoiding him. The coward. Aidan had hoped to sneak into town, clean up his dad’s messy life, and sneak right back out. Avoiding everyone.

  So much for that.

  Now he needed to make the best of it, and maybe in the process, make some amends. He looked at Raven, and smiled. She’d fallen asleep curled up in the rocking chair. She looked so innocent, her hair tied back into a lose braid, wisps falling around her face. Her smooth skin was stained with dark crescents under darker lashes, highlighted by sharp cheekbones. She’d been beautiful as a child and a young woman. Now she was breathtaking.

  “So what’s the story between you two?” Eva asked as she rewrapped his bandages.

  “She hasn’t told you?”

  “Would I be asking if she’d given me anything to go on? And before you tell me that it’s none of my business, remember who your pain pill supplier is.”

  “We were really good friends once.”

  “Right. If I were to guess, I’d say you guys were high school sweethearts. I wouldn’t be surprised if you two hooked up. Am I right?”

  Aidan shrugged. Not agreeing or disagreeing. Not that it did any good as Eva continued.

  “Of course, I’m right. I’ve watched you moon over her the last few days. Now, Raven, she plays things close to the chest. A lot like her brother, that one. But there has been more spark in her since you’ve returned.”

  “She’s probably thinking of scenarios to get rid of me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure of it. But at least she’s showing some fire.” Eva finished and gathered her supplies. “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow unless you have a setback.” She pointed a sharp finger at him. “Don’t do that, got it? I want a good night’s sleep.” She rubbed her belly. “This little tyke does enough kicking to keep me up. I don’t need you adding to it. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” She turned to le
ave.

  “Before you go, could you cover Raven up with a blanket?”

  Eva’s smile turned soft. She grabbed the afghan that was folded on the other side of the bed and covered Raven with it. “Doubt she’ll get a lot of rest in that position.” She shrugged, turned to Aidan and pointed again. “No cartwheels.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.”

  “Good patient.” Eva indicated the bag she’d dropped next to the side of the bed when she’d entered. “There are some clothes in there that ought to fit you. I assumed your clothes are stuck out at your father’s place. Can’t have you running around naked, though I’m sure some wouldn’t mind.” She gave his bare chest a long glance, and then she was gone, closing the door behind her.

  Aidan lay on the bed, weak but aching to do something besides sleep. He picked up a notepad next to the phone on the nightstand and rooted around in the top drawer until he found a pencil. He hadn’t been able to write or draw since his dad’s death. His therapist had told him that he needed to work through it. Like he didn’t know that. He was paying her a hundred and fifty dollars an hour for ‘work through it.’ Many times he’d tried. The exercise had ended in frustration, a few broken pencils and one smashed drawing board. For months now, he hadn’t even bothered to pick up a pencil.

  But this afternoon, with the weak light coming through the window, the snow softly falling outside and Raven slightly snoring, he began to draw.

  Raven woke cramped, her legs and back aching. She straightened in the hard, wooden chair, her bones creaking in the silent room. Sleeping like this had to stop. She glanced over at the soft bed with longing. But sleeping with Aidan couldn’t happen again. She stood and stretched, yawning as she studied him. He was fast asleep. Dark lashes created deep shadows, making the smudges under his eyes even darker. He looked…strained. As if his body was going through motions needed to function, and that was all.

  The clock on the bedside said five. But was it evening or morning? There was no telling with the sun hibernating.

  She needed to see to Fox. It seemed like she hadn’t spent any quality time with her son in days, not with Aidan taking up all her time. She walked over to the bed and lightly laid her hand against his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. No fever. She made sure his covers were tucked around him, then grabbed the leftover tray from his lunch and quietly left the room.