A Sister Would Know

by C. J. Carmichael

  “It’s the fresh mountain air. And the altitude.”

  “Like heck.” She stretched out her arms, despite the objection from her muscles. “It was the skiing. I guess I’m more out of shape than I thought.”

  “It wouldn’t take long to change that.”

  She left his quiet statement unchallenged and perused the room. Any remnants of Helena and Ramsey’s stay had long been cleared out. Amalie closed her eyes and tried to connect with the part of her that had always sensed when Helena was in trouble.

  Nothing. That surprised her. Somehow she’d thought that once she got here…Well, maybe tomorrow, out on the mountain…

  “Why do you figure Helena and Ramsey picked this spot for their tryst?” she asked. “A motel room would have been more comfortable.”

  “No motel could have matched this place for privacy and isolation.” Grant covered the pot he’d been stirring, then faced her.

  Making her all too aware that what had applied to one sister also applied to the other. She and Grant were completely alone in this place. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t have to worry about Davin, or the landlady, or anybody else finding out.

  Whatever happened…

  Suddenly aware of the dark, she looked out the window and realized the sun had set for the evening. The old sensation of panic resurfaced. She gasped for air, but it was as if the oxygen had turned solid and could not enter her mouth. She thought about all that snow on the roof of the cabin. What if the wood gave under the pressure? They would be buried, suffocated, just like Helena and Ramsey.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She pushed past Grant, lurching for the door. The cool sweep of a breeze was reassuring, but she was startled at how fast the outside world had disappeared under the cloak of darkness.

  Night fell quickly in the mountains, Grant had warned, especially in the winter. Now she leaned with her back on the door frame and tried to suck in a full breath of air.

  “Claustrophobia again?” Grant asked, coming up from behind and pressing a hand against her shoulder.

  She nodded. “I can’t go back in there.”

  “It’s okay, Amalie. We can leave the door open for a while if it helps.”

  It wouldn’t really. The world around them had been obliterated by the lack of sunlight. Amalie wrapped her arms around her middle.

  “I can’t see them anymore, but I can feel them.”

  “What?”

  “The mountains.” She shivered, knowing she was being fanciful. And it was ridiculous, because she prided herself on her practicality, yet here she was imagining the mountains glaring down at her in disapproval.

  “It’s because we don’t belong here,” she said. “They want us to leave.”

  “Amalie.” Grant gave her a small shake. “You can’t let it get to you. The night is going to be too long for you to spend it cringing in terror. Let me pour you some tea and then we can enjoy our ‘gourmet’ dinner.”

  She laughed at that. “Okay.”

  Another gulp of air, then she forced herself back into the cabin.

  It was a little more inviting now. A red glow emanated from the center of the room, where the stove sat, and its welcoming warmth encouraged her to step closer. Grant had pulled two tin cups from his pack, and she wondered if she shouldn’t be helping. But it was such a luxury to sit and relax.

  “Thank you for bringing me along, Grant. I know I’ve been a pain…hardly pulling my own weight.”

  “You’ve been fine.” His voice sounded a little gruff. “Better than I expected, actually.” He passed her a full cup. “Hold it by the handle so you don’t burn yourself.”

  She sat back on the sleeping bag, resting the cup on her bent knees.

  “Black bean soup. Gouda cheese in pitas. And—” he held up a small, corked bottle “—a little red wine to go with it.”

  “Wine?” Amalie smiled. The evening had definitely just taken a turn for the better.

  “THE SUMMER I WAS IN GRADE SEVEN,” Grant said as he topped up Amalie’s mug, “my parents and I went white-water rafting on the Colorado River. It was early spring, and the water was high and wild. I, of course, was determined to prove how brave I was. As our raft entered a narrow, rocky corridor, I stood up, along with the guides, to help steer.”

  Amalie closed her eyes. She could picture him at that age, just one year older than Davin. He would be tall, all bones and sun-browned skin.

  “I had no idea what I was doing, of course. I just wanted to impress a young girl I’d met on the trip. As I held my paddle out over the water, the raft shifted suddenly to one side. I fell out the other.”

  Amalie untwined her arm from his in order to sip her wine. They were huddled together for warmth, although there was plenty of that now. She twisted her head to look up at him.

  “Were you hurt?”

  “No. Luckily, my head missed the rocks—but I lost my pants to the current. Boy, was I embarrassed when they hauled me back on board in my underwear.”

  “I’ll bet that girl was impressed, all right.”

  Grant nuzzled her head with his chin. “She let me kiss her when we were sitting around the bonfire later that night.” He paused for a moment. “Donna Lee was her name.”

  “I think I’m jealous.” Amalie said the words lightly, but in truth she was. A little. Not about the kiss, but for the adventures Grant had had when he was young.

  “What did you do the next summer?”

  “I think that’s the one when we drove down to Mexico. Now, that was an experience.”

  “Is there any place you haven’t been? Any place you haven’t seen?”

  “Sure. But I’m not that eager to travel anymore. I’ve had enough. That’s what I like so much about this part of the world. I figure there’s enough wilderness here to last me my whole life.”

  “What about your parents? Where are they now?”

  “Touring South America. They retired to Puerto Rico.”

  “To a condo beside a nice golf course?” she teased.

  “Actually, yes,” he surprised her by saying. “But they’re always leaving for just one more adventure.”

  Amalie wondered if her parents knew the meaning of that word. Or if she herself did, for that matter. When was the last time she’d experienced anything that could even remotely be called that?

  Now, she realized. This. She felt a tingle of excitement as Grant began playing with her hair. He was uncording her braid, and as he did so, tension eased in pleasurable little tickles along her scalp.

  “You have the hair of an angel,” he said, before bending to place a kiss on the top of her head. She could feel his fingers, winding through the long strands and closed her eyes in bliss.

  “This wine was a very good idea.”

  He placed a hand on her cheek, then brushed his lips against the base of her neck. “Who was your first love, Amalie?”

  “I’m not sure I had one.” She twisted in his arms, careful not to upset her mug of wine. “Protective parents, remember?”

  He traced a finger down the short line of her nose, then gently outlined the shape of her lips. “But you don’t live at home anymore.”

  No, she didn’t. Still, recalling the handful of men she’d dated over the years, she didn’t think any of them qualified as what she considered a “first love.”

  Amalie sighed as Grant stopped touching her and took a sip of his wine.

  “What about you, Grant? Why haven’t you married?”

  “I’m not that old, only thirty-one.” He cleared his throat. “The truth is, I’m not that good with women. I’ve tried to blame the fact that I insist on living in this remote part of the world, but it’s really more than that.”

  “Not good with women?” Hadn’t he noticed the way Denise Carter looked at him? Or how even crotchety old Mrs. Eitelbach glowed when he was in the room?

  He swallowed back a little more wine. “I had this girlfriend in university. After graduation she stayed in Vancouver, while
I moved out here. We tried to keep up the relationship long-distance.”

  “And what happened?”

  “When she passed her bar exam, she invited me to Vancouver to celebrate. I went, but it was a big mistake. The law firm where she worked put on this big party, and I must have stood out like a cowbird in a nest of robins. My clothes were wrong, my manners were wrong, everything I said was wrong. My girlfriend was embarrassed by me. We never saw each other again.”

  “Oh, Grant.” She could so easily see Davin in a similar circumstance and her heart bled for the young man Grant had been.

  He told her another story then, about taking five months to cycle around Australia after he finished high school. As he talked, he played gently with her hair, occasionally brushing the side of her cheek or the tip of her nose.

  Amalie’s nerves were absolutely on edge. Each time his fingers touched her, no matter where or how innocently, a burning need blocked all other sensation from her mind.

  Would they make love tonight? She’d come here thinking it was a situation to be avoided. Now, warmed by the fire and the hours they’d spent talking, she realized she’d never felt so in tune with another person. Making love with Grant seemed the most natural, inevitable outcome. Yes, she was nervous, but with Grant it would be okay. She just knew it.

  The question was, did he still want her? His touches said yes, but he wasn’t in any great hurry.

  Finally, when the wine was done and he’d told her enough stories to fill a three-hundred-page travel book, she put her hand behind his head.

  “Are you planning to talk all night?”

  OUTSIDE, THE WIND HOWLED, but snow and mountains were the last subjects on Amalie’s mind at the moment. Grant had undressed her in the rosy glow of the fire, and now he was zipping their sleeping bags together.

  “Come here.” He took her hand, his eyes on her body as he laid her on the bed he’d prepared.

  The flannel was soft on her skin, and she put her fingers to her lips, which still burned from his kisses, then watched as he pulled his turtleneck over his head. The sculpted muscles of his chest gleamed in the glow from the stove, and she reached out to trace them with her hands.

  Next off were his pants. He had no modesty as he tossed them to the side, no concern that he was now completely available for her to see.

  Somehow, Amalie wasn’t surprised. Grant was too comfortable with himself, so completely at home with his masculinity, that she couldn’t picture him worrying about his body.

  It was hard to imagine what he could have worried about, had he been so inclined. He looked perfect to her, and the fact that he was so totally aroused made her own desire pulse that much stronger.

  No, the odd thing was that she didn’t feel self-conscious. Completely naked, utterly exposed to a man for the first time in her life. What was wrong with her? She didn’t feel in the least shy or inhibited.

  As if to prove it, she reached out and stroked a hand down the length of his chest, paused at the thickening of hair at his groin…then continued along the length of him. Here his skin was velvet soft, at odds with the ramrod alertness that caused his erection to stand out from his body.

  He groaned softly at her touch, then caught her hand in his. “Amalie, you look like a Norse goddess.” With an unhurrying touch, he stroked the mounds of her breasts, glided over the dip of her waist, then the swell of her hips.

  He eased down on the sleeping bags, then proceeded to touch her everywhere—places that no one, until now, had ever known before. His touch was light, but oh so effective. Soon he brought her to a delicious paradox where the pleasure was so intense she didn’t know how much more she could stand.

  “Ready?” He whispered the request before rising above her. For a moment she wondered if she should warn him.

  And decided, no.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HIS BODY STILL TWINED with Amalie’s, Grant let his head fall back on the sleeping bag and wondered what the hell to say.

  Why didn’t you tell me? No—that would sound accusatory, make her think he was resentful or even angry. And hadn’t she hinted? Telling him she didn’t think she’d had a first love.

  How was it possible? That would make her feel she’d done something wrong. But dammit, how was it possible? Sure her parents had been strict, but she was a beautiful woman and she’d been on her own for—how old was Davin?—at least eleven years.

  “You think I’m weird, right?”

  Amalie’s head was tucked just under his chin, where he couldn’t see her. He could feel the tension in her body and knew it was his fault for not having spoken the appropriately reassuring words, at the appropriate time.

  “No.” He squeezed her tightly. “I think you’re beautiful, sexy and brave.”

  He knew he hadn’t blown it when he felt her muscles loosen. Her breath teased the hairs on his chest as she laughed softly.

  “I’ll give you beautiful and sexy.” She propped her head up on her elbow to look down at him. “But not brave.” The corners of her smile trembled, then gave way. “I’ve been scared every moment since we left your truck.”

  “I know.” He pulled Amalie back inside the cocoon of warmth, gathering in the top of the bag to keep out the cold air. “I could see the fear in your face. But that only makes what you’ve done even more courageous. Not many people would force themselves to do something that scared them to death.”

  “I keep obsessing about all that snow on the roof,” she said. “You’re going to think I’m paranoid, but is there any chance it could cause the roof to cave?”

  “These structures are built to withstand loads much greater than this. I could go out, though, and shovel it off if that would make you rest easier.”

  He felt her hand on the side of his face. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “And I don’t want you to leave, either.” He was talking about the future now, about her eventual return to Toronto. Given what had just happened between them, surely she might consider staying a while longer. Maybe renting the apartment long-term, applying for a job…

  Ignoring the way her legs had stiffened beside him, he played what he saw as his trump card. “Davin seems happy here. And Revelstoke’s a good place to raise kids.”

  “It’s impossible, Grant.”

  She spoke as if he’d asked whether she could settle on the moon. And maybe he had. She didn’t connect with the mountains the way he did. And coming from Toronto, well, Revelstoke probably seemed like a real hick town. Still—

  “‘Impossible’ is a little strong, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve got my job and my parents to look after.”

  “We have a hospital in Revelstoke,” he pointed out. “And your parents aren’t that old, are they?”

  “Early sixties. But they really depend on me, Grant. I’d feel terrible abandoning them.”

  “What about you and your happiness?”

  She regarded him. “You could always move to Ontario.”

  He waited for her to laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I’ll admit I didn’t expect you to jump at the offer.”

  “Amalie, if I moved, I wouldn’t fit in. I don’t know if I would even be myself in a big city like that.”

  “I know. It’s okay, Grant. I understand.” She spoke like a mother comforting a hurt child. But she snuggled up against his chest as though seeking that same reassurance for herself.

  He was happy to oblige. Holding her to him, he tried not to worry about the next time he’d have the opportunity to make love to her. The thing was, to enjoy this moment.

  But that wasn’t easy. In his personal life, he didn’t live for the moment. He was a thinker, a planner. And he had no doubt Amalie was the same. Her body remained tense next to his, and he wondered whether it was the uncertainty of their future or her fear of these mountains that had her so stressed.

  He was struggling with a fear of his own now. Tomorrow they’d find out whether it was safe to mount a search par
ty for her sister’s body. If it was, he could have his team back up here by the end of the week. Once they found what they were looking for, Amalie and Davin would have no reason to prolong their stay.

  Something he’d known from the start, of course. But that was before he’d started falling in love with her.

  “THIS IS THE SPOT,” Grant said the next morning.

  “We followed their tracks along this ridge, and here’s where they disappeared down into that bowl.”

  He’d pointed out the landmarks earlier: Youngs Peak, the Pterodactyl. Amalie’s gaze followed the direction of his finger.

  A wide swath ran down the mountain—the slidepath marked with chunks of snow and, lower down, uprooted pines that had been smashed into kindling, their needles scattered.

  It was horrible. Just horrible. Leaning on her ski poles, Amalie thought of her sister, and relived what she’d felt that Sunday afternoon. The pain, the burning in her lungs, the panic…

  For the first time since the avalanche, her sister’s death seemed real to her.

  Helena gone.

  When they were six, Helena had been the first to lose a tooth. She’d been so proud and excited. Together they’d wrapped the small treasure in a lacy doily, then carried it in to show their mother.

  It was, perhaps, the first time Helena had done something before her sister. Amalie had walked first, talked first, learned to read first. But Helena had this tooth. And even through her envy, Amalie had been glad for her.

  Not their mother. “Did you get blood on that doily? For heaven’s sake, Helena. You have no sense.” That was the way things had been in their house. Nothing Helena did was ever right.

  Amalie heard Grant ski up beside her, then felt his arm heavy over her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from the avalanche path. “Do you know when it happened?”

  “Sometime Sunday afternoon. Of course we can’t be sure of the exact hour.”

  “Twenty minutes after four, eastern standard time.”

  “What? I don’t see how…”

  “I was about to bust the badge off a papiermâché sheriff.” She remembered swinging the bat. Remembered how she’d stumbled when, expecting resistance, she’d met none.