The Reluctant Bride

by Anne Marie Duquette

  “Why? Because I’m a helpless female?” she asked sharply.

  Max shrugged. “Under the circumstances…”

  “You decided to keep me out of the loop.” Karinne’s lips thinned. “Who else did you talk to? Cory?”

  “He knows about the calls and the detective. And…that I saw your mother the day she disappeared.” Max met her gaze. “You saw her?” she echoed.

  “Yes. Margot came to the house. She wanted to know where you were.”

  “Mom was there?”

  “I told her I didn’t know where you were. But I did. You were inside the house with Cory.”

  “Oh, my God. You lied to her?”

  “I lied.”

  “Maybe she wanted to say goodbye.” Karinne’s voice shook. “I always knew she loved me…”

  “Maybe she wanted to kidnap you, assuming she’s alive. Or maybe she wanted to kill herself and you.”

  “Mom would never do that!”

  “It’s not unheard of among unhappy parents,” Max said. “How do you know? Would you have guessed she’d leave a suicide note and disappear into the river?”

  “Perhaps seeing me might have…might have chased away her depression. You were just a boy, Max. You had no right to make that decision.”

  “I did, and I can’t change it. Nor would I if I had to do it over again. You didn’t see Margot that day. I did. She scared me, Karinne. She wasn’t herself.”

  Tears started down Karinne’s cheeks. “And I never saw her again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should’ve called me! You had no right to interfere, Max.”

  “Whether I did or didn’t makes no difference now. And once this investigation of ours is over, I’m done interfering—or whatever you want to call it.”

  Karinne rubbed her eyes, then abruptly dropped her hands. “You’re really serious about us breaking up?”

  “What’s to break up? We’re never together. And as you yourself pointed out, we can’t talk on the phone. Are we supposed to write each other letters every weekend and get older and lonelier as the years go by? We’re not kids anymore, living on the same street. We’re adults, Karinne.”

  “But we love each other! How can you throw it all away? I’ve loved you since I was a girl.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem. I’m just a habit, a familiar routine. And you take advantage of it. Maybe I have, too. But this thing with your mother has opened my eyes. If it isn’t your job, or your father, or your ghost of a mother keeping us apart, it’ll be something else…some other excuse.”

  “But—”

  Max held up his hand. “I’m not saying your reasons aren’t important to you.”

  “No. You’re just saying I’m not important anymore. That you’re not going to wait for me.”

  “You’re only half right. You’ll always be important to me, Karinne. But let me spell it out. You want to search for a ghost? Fine. I’ll even help. But I’m done waiting for a reluctant bride. You want to embrace phantoms instead of a living man, go ahead. I’d rather deal with reality, and get on with my life.”

  Karinne rose to her feet and turned her back on him. Max watched her leave and then hurry down to the trail to the shoreline. The most beautiful geological formation in the world spread out its rocky rainbows before them, but right now neither of them could appreciate it. After a moment, Max carefully put away the sandwiches. He signaled to Cory and Anita and, feeling as old as the rocks in the canyon, started down the trail himself.

  They set up camp late in the afternoon, everyone damp and exhausted from the rapids. The two tents were set far enough apart for privacy, but for once Karinne wasn’t looking forward joyfully to her and Max’s time alone. Dinner had been a strained affair. Cory and Anita had obviously enjoyed each other’s company, laughing, talking and planning a future, while Karinne inwardly writhed, comparing them with Max and her.

  Later, after the dishes were done and the sleeping bags rolled out, Cory and Anita sat around the campfire, side by side, arms around each other with an intimacy that brought tears to her eyes. Max took off to check on the raft and the cargo that had remained stowed, leaving Karinne alone. The sounds of the river water seemed harsh, intrusive, while the darkness of the night seemed to emphasize her loneliness.

  Finally she said good-night to Cory and Anita and headed for her tent, where she kicked off her boots, then lay down, fully clothed, on top of the sleeping bag. She crossed her arms behind her head and gazed upward, her eyes unfocused, remembering the past. Memories of her mother and father and happier times flooded her mind. And sharing all those memories were Cory and Max…especially Max.

  She never would’ve guessed that Max had sent Margot away from his house without telling her. She angrily wondered why he’d kept that secret from her for so long. Her anger rose at his betrayal now in calling off their wedding. Had she really been as selfish as he thought? She didn’t think so. Max and Cory had each other growing up; they still had each other as adults. As an only child, she’d clung to her mother as all little girls did, and mourned Margot’s absence in her life. How could she not follow up on this mystery? And how could she make him see that loving Margot didn’t detract one bit from her loving him? She’d been blessed to have Max in her life. She wasn’t about to give him up without a fight.

  It was past ten, late for river trips, when Max finally entered the tent. He saw Karinne, still dressed, awake.

  “We have an early day tomorrow. You should get to bed,” he suggested, sitting on his own bag and untying his sneakers.

  “Kind of hard to sleep,” she responded. “You dumped me today, remember?”

  Max said nothing. She sat up and crossed her legs, watching him undress. She took in the strength of his shoulders, the hard chest she’d snuggled up to so many times, the lean hips. He stripped down to his briefs, hesitated, removed those and climbed into his sleeping bag, leaving the side unzipped. Like Karinne, though, he remained sitting.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Then we won’t talk. We’ll make love instead.” Karinne started to undress.

  “Karinne…”

  “Your exact words were…when this business with your mother is over, we’re done. It’s not over yet. No reason we can’t enjoy each other’s company.” She dropped her shirt, and then her jeans. “I still love you. It’s been a long time since we’ve been together. You can’t say you haven’t missed me.”

  “You’re just making things harder,” Max said, but he didn’t look away as she dropped her bra and panties onto the pile of discarded clothing.

  “One last time, Max,” she said, kneeling before him. “One last time, and I won’t ask again.”

  For a moment she thought he’d rebuff her, but he didn’t. He reached for her and brought her close, his lips meeting hers. Then he pulled her down and stroked the bare skin of her back, murmuring words of love. She responded the way she always did with him, her body and soul drinking him in, her heart throbbing with the joy and passion he aroused in her. But this time, their physical satisfaction left her emotionally unfulfilled.

  And later, when Karinne crawled back into her own sleeping bag, Max didn’t protest. It was only then that she realized Max could be right. Perhaps it was truly over, after all.

  But then she heard Max say, “Karinne?”

  She forced herself to answer calmly. “Yes?”

  “I wanted you to see how I live. Really live, not just on weekends. That’s why I wanted this trip. I needed to know if you could love this place, too, enough to be here with me.”

  Hope welled within her. “Then let me try. I’ve made mistakes. You’re right about my father,” she admitted. “He does need more than I can give him.”

  Silence.

  “I shouldn’t have expected you to raise our family alone,” Max admitted.

  Karinne almost smiled. “Well, we’re making progress. Max, don’t write us off yet.”
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  “No,” he said simply. “But if by some miracle things go well—and I’m not making any promises—can you live without your career?” he asked.

  “It’d be hard. I’ll always be a photographer.” She paused, then asked a more difficult question in return. “Do you think you could give up having children? Could you be happy with it just being us?”

  “It’d be hard,” he echoed. “Especially if you intend to go chasing after your mother.”

  “Even if she’s alive?”

  “I know you, Karinne. You’ll want to make up lost years if she is.”

  Karinne couldn’t deny it.

  “No matter what happens, you’ll have to choose between your parents and me,” Max said finally. “If that’s too much for you, then when this trip is over, you accept that we’re done. We’ll be civilized adults, okay?”

  Karinne thought of the unsatisfactory lovemaking they’d just shared. Max was right. They couldn’t live the rest of their lives this way.

  “Okay.”

  THE NEXT MORNING dawned clear and sunny, but Karinne had no heart for the beauty of the day, the canyon or the river. Nor did she have any enthusiasm for the three sets of rapids the raft entered once they left Cardenas Creek. She felt physically dull and emotionally heartbroken, so much so that Cory spoke to her once they got to Mile 77, start of the Upper Granite Gorge.

  “Karinne, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She pushed her wet, straggling hair out of her face. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” In her peripheral vision she saw Max lift his head sharply, but couldn’t meet his gaze. She determinedly studied the pink of the mica and the milky white of the quartz, crystallized Precambrian rock glistening in the sun.

  “Wake up,” Max said harshly. “These gorge walls narrow substantially. They’ll constrict the river and drastically speed up the current. We’ll be hitting three sets of rapids with very little breathing space all the way to Phantom Ranch.”

  “How little breathing space?” Anita asked.

  “Two sets of rapids before we clear Creek Canyon at mile 84, then another set before we reach the Kaibab Trail.”

  Unaccountably, Karinne felt like bursting into tears. Instead, she concentrated on keeping herself safe and managed to control her emotions. By the end of the longest day of her life, they finally got to Phantom Ranch. Karinne was relieved when Cory checked them in at the front desk. Outside, the shadows lengthened from one canyon wall to the other and covered the rustic lodge near the north side of the river. Close to Bright Angel Creek lay a tent campground for the hardier tourists. Various watercraft were docked for the night. The mules in the corrals were already eating a well-deserved dinner. Inside, other sight-seers headed for semiprivate bunking areas or the men’s and women’s dormitories. The brothers had secured a private cabin, which, unlike the dorms, had its own sink, toilet and bathing area.

  Karinne wasn’t looking forward to putting on a cheerful face with the other three in such close quarters. Max had managed to act like his usual self, but Karinne wasn’t having as easy a time. How could Max throw away everything they’d shared?

  Along with the grief and anguish, she felt anger. Max had no right to use Margot as a reason for ending their engagement. He could’ve been indirectly responsible for Margot’s death, if she truly was dead. What if Margot had been able to see Karinne that fateful day? What if the sight of her loving daughter could have wiped out whatever dark thoughts and deeds she carried within? Max couldn’t be correct about a proposed kidnapping. Margot would never take her away from her father. As for a murder-suicide, Karinne didn’t believe that, either.

  But she couldn’t mull over these ideas, couldn’t cry or rave about them. She had to share a tiny cabin with three other people, one of them her ex-fiancé.

  “At least we won’t have to use the dorm’s communal showers,” Cory was saying. “We’ll have our own bathroom.”

  Max accepted the old-fashioned key attached by brass to an artful piece of carved wood. “The cabins do have more privacy.”

  “I like the rustic feel,” Karinne said, forcing herself to participate in the conversation.

  “Look, a real key instead of a magnetic strip card,” Anita marveled. “And the wood’s a carved deer.”

  “We’re room Deer-15,” Cory said. “A is antelope, then bear, cougar, deer and so on.”

  “May I?” Anita asked, gesturing toward the key.

  “Sure.” Max tossed it to Anita to admire. She passed it to Karinne, who pocketed it in her jeans. “Our cabin has two single beds,” Max was saying. “You and Karinne can have them. Cory and I can bunk on the floor.”

  “Unless you find room to squeeze me in.” Cory grinned at Anita.

  Karinne deliberately avoided Max’s eyes. She doubted he’d be making any offers to snuggle in a single bed.

  The four made their way through the crowds to their cabin. Cory unlocked the door and they all dropped their gear.

  “We should eat first and shower later,” Cory said; the others agreed.

  After a quick wipe of their trail-dusty hands and faces, they hurried toward the dining area, Cory and Anita leading the way. The line waiting to eat was long; the wood-and-twine-bound chairs at wooden trestle tables provided limited seating. People smelling of sweat and bug spray were packed in as tightly as possible. But the hot stew, bread and brownies served family-style were delicious. Adults busied themselves with “chowing down.” Even children, prone to laughing and talking, were eating with the single-minded hunger triggered by outdoor air and exercise.

  Karinne still had half the food left on her plate when the others set down their silverware. The servings were extremely generous, she’d thought, and the others ate with relish. At least eating gave her an excuse for not talking. Max had finished first and was getting another cup of coffee. Anita had gone back in line for seconds. Karinne set her fork on the table.

  “Done already?” Cory asked. “I assumed you’d be starving.”

  “I’m not really hungry,” Karinne admitted.

  “Then if you don’t mind…” Cory swapped his empty plate for her half-filled one. “This way, I won’t have to stand in line again.”

  “Speaking of lines, I think I’ll go shower first. I have the room key.” She was eager to escape Max and have a few minutes to herself.

  “Oh. I’ll walk you over,” Cory said politely, reluctantly putting down his fork.

  “Don’t. You’re not finished eating, and Max and Anita will lose the table.” Karinne gestured to all the people with trays standing against the wall. “See you back at the cabin.”

  Cory nodded, fork in hand again as he tackled Karinne’s leftover stew.

  Karinne threaded her way through the crowds standing in line, indoors and out, breathing a sigh of relief as she escaped. Phantom Ranch was as busy as any convention center; people crowded the grounds, some of them eating picnic-style, while others were busy inspecting exhibits, signs and park maps. Pink sweatshirt or not, she doubted anyone, including her mother, could spot her in this mob scene.

  She really wanted a shower. She reached their cabin and walked inside. She pulled off the sweatshirt, and placed it and the key on the nightstand. After a moment, she decided to leave the entrance door unlocked. She wasn’t planning a long shower, but she didn’t want to have to cut it short to let the others in. She gathered a fresh set of clothes, plus her wallet with ID and money, then stepped into the tiny bathroom, latched the door and stripped for a quick shower. The water was warm enough for comfort, but she wouldn’t have minded another towel. Fortunately, there was a mirror. She brushed her teeth and hair, then got dressed, still in the bathroom.

  She unlatched the bathroom door, rolling up her dirty laundry to stow away—and heard someone move inside the cabin.

  “Is that you, Max?” she called, opening the door.

  The person sitting on the bed wasn’t Max but a woman. She rose and stood awkwardly, the lined face familiar, as was her voice.r />
  “Hello, Karinne.”

  Karinne dropped her dirty laundry on the floor.

  “Mom?”

  Chapter Eight

  “It’s me,” Margot said.

  Karinne stared. I knew it. I knew I wasn’t crazy.

  Margot held out her arms. “Can I have a hug?”

  Karinne didn’t hesitate. She rushed into her mother’s arms. The two women held each other tightly, too overwhelmed for tears or smiles. After long minutes, Margot gently released her daughter.

  “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s walk over to my place.”

  Margot had her own cabin, Bear-3, with its intricately carved wooden animal on the end of the key. They were a ten-minute walk from Karinne’s, but neither noticed the passage of time.

  “So I did see you on the pontoon,” Karinne said.

  “You scared me to death when you fell off the raft. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Margot apologized.

  “And I saw you in the stadium in Phoenix, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been here in the canyon?” Karinne asked.

  “A week. I was determined to see you, even if you didn’t wear my gift.”

  “But I did.”

  “The pink’s very loud, isn’t it? It’s all the gift shop had in your size.”

  Karinne smiled. “Why didn’t you call me or come to my apartment? Or the house? Why call Max? Why the cloak-and-dagger routine?” Then the questions she had came tumbling out. “Why didn’t you come home? Where were you all this time?”

  Margot’s own smile faded. “It’s not a story I’m proud of, but it’s one you have a right to know. Let’s go inside.”

  Margot unlocked her cabin. The two women sat side by side on one of the beds, the mother holding both of her daughter’s hands as they talked.

  “I had—have—a gambling problem,” she said quietly. “I don’t understand why, but it’s always been there. My father was a gambler, too. You never knew him, Karinne, but he used to live for horse races, greyhound tracks, casinos… You name it, he bet on it. I went with him. And when I was old enough, I gambled, too. Not for fun, like a normal person. It’s a disease. My disease.”