“How long have they been here?”
Fay didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “Since your father died.” She sounded relieved to finally be able to say it.
“Who is he?” she asked softly.
Fay sighed and looked up at the sky. Tears glistened in her eyes. “His name was Sawyer Leduc. He was a friend of ours before you were born.”
Laura nodded. There was more to this story and it was time she learned it. “The other day,” she said, “when Adam died, I found a skeleton in the cliff.”
Her mother turned to stare at her, her expression unreadable. Laura told her about the skeleton she had found as she climbed back from shrouding Adam’s body.
“There was a pendant,” she finished. She pulled it out and handed it to Fay.
Fay stared at the pendant for a long time. Finally Laura realized her mother was crying. She gently pushed Fay down on the top step and sat down next to her. She placed a hand on her mother’s.
“Is it your friend I found?”
Fay nodded. She seemed unaware of the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I gave it to him. All those years…”
A woman didn’t give a man a gift like that unless he meant something to her. Something more than a friend.
“Mom?” she said gently, not knowing how to ask. “Sawyer was the man in the picture? Did he live in the old cabin?”
Fay remained quiet for so long that Laura thought she wouldn’t answer. She stared at the pendant cupped in her hands, crying. Laura put an arm around her mother and held her while she grieved.
“Never mind,” said Laura after a while. “You don’t have to say anything.” Her mother’s secrets were her own. She didn’t have any right to pry into them.
Fay sat up straighter and wiped her cheeks. “No,” she said finally. “It’s time you knew.”
But she lapsed into silence again, as if marshalling her thoughts, and it was a long time before she spoke again. The cold had worked its way through Laura’s sweater and she shivered.
“James and I were building the house—this house. We were going to get married. Then Sawyer came to the Yukon. He’d just finished college and wanted to see the North. He had no family. No ties. He rented the cabin and the three of us became friends. And Sawyer and I fell in love.”
Fay looked at Laura. “We didn’t plan it, and it’s not that I stopped loving your father,” she said. “I still loved James. But Sawyer…Sawyer and I…” She shrugged, unable to find the words. “It was a hard, wonderful summer, but so confusing…I spent a lot of time with Sawyer. He had studied geology and he loved tramping through the woods. He taught me about rocks.” She clenched a fist around the pendant. “I gave him this one, had it made into a pendant for him.” Her eyes closed and she took a deep, steadying breath. “By the end of the summer I was pregnant.”
Laura’s world shifted beneath her.
“Who…?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Fay laughed bitterly. “That was the question, wasn’t it?” She closed her eyes. “I didn’t know who your father was. It took all my courage to finally tell James that Sawyer and I had been lovers…and that you might be Sawyer’s child. He was so hurt.” Tears squeezed out of her closed eyes. “But I had to tell him.”
“What about Sawyer?” asked Laura, unable to contain herself. “Did you tell him?”
Fay nodded. “After I told James, I went to see Sawyer at the cabin.” Fay’s face changed as memory took over. She seemed younger, as if the years fell away to reveal the girl she had been. “He was thrilled. He didn’t care who the father was. He wanted me to go away with him. He said he loved me, and wanted to make a family with me.”
The tears fell unheeded down Fay’s cheeks, and Laura wiped her mother’s face with the sleeve of her sweater, unwilling to interrupt the story to fetch some tissues.
“I loved him with all my heart, but loving him meant betraying James. I was scared…I didn’t know what to do. Sawyer was so understanding. He told me to think about it. He would come to the house that night and talk to James, then come for me at my apartment in town. That was the last time I ever saw him.”
Laura’s mind reeled from the revelations. Sawyer—the mysterious occupant of the cabin—the man who fell over the cliff…
“How did he end up…?” She waved at the river.
“It was a rainy night,” continued Fay, oblivious to Laura’s turmoil. “I don’t know why they were both out on such a night…I guess they had to have it out. But he fell. All those years, I thought he had changed his mind, left me behind—but he didn’t. He didn’t.” She fell silent, pressing the pendant against her heart.
Blood pounded in Laura’s ears until she thought she would faint. “How do you know what happened?” she asked. “Did Dad…?”
Fay glanced at her. “I saw what happened, yesterday afternoon. They relived it for me.”
Laura digested the information slowly. “So Dad…All that time…”
Fay nodded. “Yes. He knew what had happened to Sawyer and he never told me.”
Laura struggled against the feelings suddenly boiling up in her. How could Dad have done that? How could he have left Fay wondering, all those years…
She shied away from thinking too deeply about it. Dad…
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said finally. “About them haunting you, I mean.” Laura felt as if her insides were filling with ice water. How could she be sitting on the porch of her mother’s house, discussing ghosts?
Fay laughed harshly. “Until you saw Sawyer in the woods the other day, I thought I was going crazy. I certainly wasn’t going to advertise the fact.”
Laura was having trouble breathing, and the small hairs on the back of her neck were standing at attention. She stood up and went down the stairs, unable to sit still. She paced a few feet down the driveway, and then returned to stand at the foot of the stairs.
“Why didn’t Mack see them?” she asked. “And why did Hicklin?”
Fay shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you have to be attuned to them, or sensitive in some way.”
“Hicklin? Sensitive?” It was Laura’s turn to look skeptical.
A small laugh escaped Fay. “Good point. I don’t know, Laura. Maybe they wanted Hicklin to see them, to distract him. You do know you’d be dead now if not for them?”
Laura nodded. It was hard to accept, but there it was.
Why had Dad and Sawyer been haunting Fay? Why work together in death when they had been rivals in life?
“I didn’t tell the police about the skeleton,” she finally said.
Fay sighed. “We need to get him out of there. Bury him properly.” She wiped her face with her hands. “He was here all along,” she murmured. “I guess James’s death triggered his appearance.”
And then she knew. She knew why Dad had been haunting Fay, why the three of them had remained intricately linked for over thirty years. Guilt. James Thorsen—however indirectly—had been responsible for Sawyer’s death. And for over thirty years he had carried the weight of it, unable to tell the woman he loved for fear she would leave him. As for Sawyer, love had held him here. Who knew why it took Dad’s death to trigger his appearance. Maybe they gained strength from each other.
Laura glanced up at her mother, but Fay wasn’t looking at her. She was staring at the moon, her face a study in grief. Questions would have to wait.
“Mom?” she said gently. “Let’s go to bed.”
***
At two in the morning, Fay gave up on sleep and got up. She moved silently through the kitchen, put some milk on the stove and waited for it to warm. Only the light over the stove was on, its glow warm and welcoming. She pulled out the brandy and put a dollop in her cup before sitting down at the table. Her reflection stared back at her from the window. There was half a night to go before dawn came.
She drank warm milk and thought about the two men in her life. Sawyer had loved her, and she had loved him, but that was a long time ago. James had s
tayed, loving her, in spite of all she had put him through.
Alone in the middle of her kitchen, Fay Thorsen took a hard look at herself and admitted that she had been cruel.
She had waited until she was sure Sawyer wasn’t coming back before agreeing to marry James, and even then she made it clear she was only marrying because she was pregnant. How had he felt, all those years, knowing he was her second choice? She had condemned him for monopolizing Laura’s affection, but could she blame him? Hadn’t she punished him all those years for not being Sawyer?
Her one comfort was that their last years together had been happy. Once Laura left home, she and James had turned to each other and rediscovered the companionship of their early days. It was a good time.
Then she thought of Sawyer being trapped in the cliff rift for thirty years and grief welled up in her again. James hadn’t known. He couldn’t have known. He and Laura had climbed all over those cliffs for years. He wouldn’t have if he’d known Sawyer’s remains were hidden in the rift. He must have searched and, not finding Sawyer, assumed he had been carried away by the river.
And he never told her. Never told the police. James had probably been afraid she would leave him if she knew how Sawyer had died. He had probably feared she would blame him. He had probably been right.
And now? Now she was older, and tired. Her two loves were dead, and it was time to get on with her life.
Raising her cup in a toast to her reflection, she whispered, “I forgive you, James my love, if you forgive me.”
She drained the cup and went back to bed.
***
The next morning, Laura and Fay worked in the garden, pulling plants and preparing it for spring.
Laura crouched on her haunches, yanking up dead marigolds and brussels sprouts. Her body ached from the hard work she had done on Mack’s house. Hopefully the garden work would warm her up and ease the aches.
Fay kneeled at the far end of the garden, in the broccoli bed. Laura smiled to see her mother push a wisp of hair away and leave a streak of dirt on her forehead.
As she worked, Laura went over all she had learned about her mother’s past. She wouldn’t have thought anything could displace her fear of Johnny Tucker, but she had barely spared him a thought since waking up. She stole another glance at her mother. In spite of the dark circles under her eyes, Fay looked at peace with herself.
“Mom?” she finally asked, her tone diffident. Fay looked up and Laura asked the question she most wanted answered. “Who was my father?”
Fay looked Laura in the eye. “James was your father, Laura.”
Laura studied her mother’s face carefully, trying to understand what her mother wasn’t saying. Then she had it.
“You didn’t know for sure, did you?” she said with awe. “All this time, you didn’t know. And then you saw the picture.” She paused, thinking it through. “It was Great Aunt Gertrude. When you realized I was the spitting image of Dad’s great aunt, that’s when you knew I was his daughter, not Sawyer’s.”
Fay was past tears, it seemed. She merely nodded.
Laura was still trying to work it out. “But Dad knew. Or at least he knew ten years ago when he gave Mr. Howell the pictures. That’s why you freaked out, isn’t it? Why didn’t he tell you? Was he punishing you?”
Fay shrugged. She looked frail suddenly, as if she would snap if too much pressure were applied. But that was wrong, Laura knew. Her mother was stronger than Laura had ever suspected.
“If he resented me, it was with good reason,” said Fay. She sighed and sat back on her heels. “Your father was hurt, but he was a good man, and he loved me. I don’t think he left you the pictures to hurt me. I think he just wanted you to be absolutely sure, in case the question ever came up. I think he didn’t tell me because it truly didn’t matter to him anymore. You were his from the moment you were born.”
A weight she hadn’t even been aware of lifted from Laura’s shoulders. It was true. Her father had loved her. No matter what other parts of her past might be subject to change, that part wasn’t.
“What about you?” she asked finally. “Did it matter to you?”
Fay smiled gently. “I loved you from the moment I knew you existed. Yes, I cared about who your father was, but it never changed how I felt about you.”
Laura smiled too, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. She resumed digging and sorting through her new past.
Had Dad unconsciously kept Laura from Fay as a punishment? Or had he feared that Fay would leave him one day, and wanted to make sure Laura never would? Had he chosen rock climbing as a subtle punishment for Fay? How many ways had he made her pay over the years, perhaps without realizing it?
Laura shook her head slowly. Too much. It was too much to think about right now. And she wasn’t even sure she had the right to go down that road. Those questions belonged in her mother’s psyche, not hers.
***
Mack considered his supply of nails and two-by-fours and wondered if he had enough to finish the day. Maybe he should drive into town now before the lumber supply store closed.
“Hello, the house!”
Mack looked up to find Laura striding down the driveway. “Hey,” he called, waving a welcome. He hoped his grin wasn’t as foolish as it felt. He watched hungrily as she made her way to the house. He had consciously stayed away from the Thorsen women, knowing this was Laura’s last day at home. But now Laura was here, and his heart rate speeded up just at the sight of her.
“Hey yourself,” said Laura, walking up the planks to join him. She was dressed in jeans and a heavy sweater. Her hair was up in a ponytail and looked like burnished copper in the sun. He wished she would let it down. The black eye had faded to shades of yellow.
“It’s beginning to look like a real house,” said Laura, admiring the roof.
He had spent all morning working on cladding the roof and was only a quarter of the way done, but still, he appreciated her encouragement.
“By the time you come back, I’ll have rooms.” To his surprise, a pang of regret shot through him. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want this prickly, stubborn, beautiful woman to walk out of his life.
Laura turned away from him and studied the view out of the framed window. That would be the kitchen, he noted automatically, moving to stand behind her.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Laura…” He stopped, not knowing what he wanted to say. Then she turned to face him, her eyes bright and he decided words would only get in the way. He placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her. She tasted faintly of coffee and something else, something heady, intoxicating. Then her mouth parted and he groaned, stepping into the kiss and pulling her closer with his free hand. She responded by pressing herself against him and putting her arms around him.
Desire flamed though him and his kisses grew more passionate, his hands running up and down her back, pressing her closer. She gasped and he immediately pulled back, but she pulled him to her again. Her teeth nibbled his lower lip and he ached to cup her breasts in his hands.
If he didn’t stop now, he never would.
With something akin to physical pain, he stepped back, pulling out of her embrace. She looked at him, her eyes half-lidded with desire, and he fought down the primitive instinct struggling to answer that look.
He was unable to conjure up a laugh or even a light-hearted comment. “If you’re not careful, Laura May Thorsen, I’ll take you right here on the floor.”
The look she gave him almost made him reach for her again, but he controlled himself. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. He took another step back.
“And that’s not what I want,” he said firmly.
“You don’t?” she said, her voice still smoky with passion.
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He reached for her arm and pulled her to him, holding her gently. Her hair smelled wonderful, of shampoo and sunshine. He undid her ponytail and spread her hair around her face, running his fingers
through it for sheer pleasure. He stopped when she closed her eyes and turned her face up to his.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” he said thickly, kissing each feature and memorizing it. “But I want all of you. I want to know you, and I want you to know me. I’m your mother’s neighbor—we’ll be seeing each other for years. We should be very sure we don’t regret anything we do. I want the first time we make love to be special, not something we do in the middle of a construction site.” He looked around at the unfinished house and managed a grin. “You deserve better than a butt full of splinters.”
Laura sighed and opened her eyes. “I’m coming back for a visit at the end of the month. Do you think the house will be finished then?”
Mack laughed out loud and hugged her. “I’ll make sure it is,” he said, and kissed her.
Laura broke the embrace before passion could ignite them again. “Exactly what makes you think I’d be the one to get a butt full of splinters?”
***
The next morning Mack drove Laura to the airport, much to Fay’s relief. She didn’t think she could handle the farewell without tears, even though Laura would be back for a visit in only a few weeks. There was so much she wanted to tell her daughter, now that the dam had burst.
But all that could wait.
Fay reached for her light jacket and slipped it on. It was time. She closed the door behind her and stood looking out at the day for a few minutes. The temperature was dropping, in spite of the bright sunshine. A faint aroma of wood smoke wafted over her and she sniffed with pleasure. It was a lovely day, a fine day in which to be alive.
Fay chose the cliff trail. She set off down the path, enjoying the brisk wind stinging her cheeks and the sound of the river rumbling far below her feet. She stayed far from the edge to avoid seeing the river. As long as she kept her eyes on the trail, her fear of heights only added spice to the journey.
When she got to the spot where Adam Rhys had fallen, she paused. This was where Sawyer’s remains had been. She didn’t linger. He wasn’t there anymore. The police had removed his remains and there would be an inquest in a few weeks. She would petition the coroner to release him to her for burial. He deserved that, after all this time. She turned away and strode down the path toward the old cabin.
On Her Trail Page 14
