Absence of Grace (29 page)

How strange that it would turn out to be so simple. With her hand tucked in Gerrum’s, her worries, questions, and doubts faded to insignificance. She felt, suddenly, as young and hopeful as she had going off to Marymead the first time.

In Gerrum’s kitchen, she leaned against the counter while he chopped onions, and butter sizzled in a skillet. While he worked, he told her about the sabotage and what he’d done while they were stranded. In turn, she told him what she’d done: the sandwiches and coffee, the endless waiting, the worry.

He lifted the skillet off the burner and slid the omelet onto a plate, cut it, and transferred half to a second plate he then handed her. Clen had eaten dinner, but she was still hungry enough from her two-day fast to eat her share.

When they finished, Gerrum got out bowls and a scoop. “I have homemade peach or Rocky Road?”

“An omelet and ice cream. Are you trying for a heart attack, Gerrum Kirsey?”

“I recently proved my heart’s in pretty good shape.” He met her gaze, making her heart jump.

“Peach. Just a small scoop.”

He pulled a Tupperware container out of the freezer. So, was that how he spent his evenings? Churning exotic flavors of ice cream? It was only one of the things she didn’t yet know about him—ordinary, everyday things—whether he squeezed the toothpaste in the middle, did the daily crossword, was a morning or an evening person. All unknown. All waiting to be known...but only if she had the courage.

She curled a bit of pale orange onto her spoon. Gerrum took a small scoop as well. It wouldn’t take either of them long to eat. She shivered, telling herself it was because of the ice cream.

Gerrum picked up his empty bowl and carried it to the sink. She watched him, trying to decide what she wanted to happen next. Easier, to know what she didn’t want. She didn’t want the evening to end, not without discovering if kissing her meant as much to him as kissing him did to her. “I-uh...I read your book.”

He turned toward her with a questioning look.

“And I liked it. A lot.” She felt the heat of a blush start at her toes and travel up her torso until it emerged at her neck. “That was inane, wasn’t it.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sat across from her. “It’s certainly preferable to a more erudite slice and dice.”

“I thought only crudités were sliced and diced, not books.”

“Shows you’re not an author.”

No, she was a woman alone with a man who’d kissed her with more than friendly intent.

As suddenly as it gusted through her, the giddiness retreated, and the past came to crouch beside her. She clenched her hands, then twisted them together until Gerrum reached out and took the nearest hand between his. She looked at their hands, Gerrum’s blunt and sun-darkened, hers pale and delicate in comparison. Gradually, the steadiness of his grip calmed her frantically scurrying thoughts.

“You want to know what I did, while we waited to be rescued?” he said.

“Didn’t you already tell me?”

He shook his head and waved his free hand as if to dismiss his earlier words. “I thought how nice it would be to just...talk to you.”

She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’d like that, too.”

“If you’re willing to try, we’ll be more comfortable in the other room.”

In the soft dark of the living room, he settled an arm around her, and after a moment, she relaxed against him. “While you were missing, I thought about you,” she said. “How if you weren’t found, it would make a difference to me. I regretted I never told you—” She struggled to steady her voice. “I care about you, and I’m so thankful...so relieved I got this chance.”

“Me, too.” Then, once again, he was kissing her.

For a time, she gave in to emotion and sensation, relishing a growing desire, but as that desire gathered momentum, she forced herself to pull away. “When we’re kissing, I have trouble thinking straight.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He traced her eyebrow and ran a finger down her cheek and under her chin, tipping her face to meet his gaze.

She gazed back, knowing that before this went any further, it was only fair to give him a hint of what he was dealing with. “I’ve never been much good at relationships.”

He cocked his head, examining her. “They’re works in progress for all of us, Clen. I’ve lived alone a long time. That might make a person think I don’t do such a great job, either.”

Okay, he wasn’t going to be easy to warn off, but she already knew that. Hadn’t she made it as clear as she knew how he shouldn’t bother getting to know her? Did he pay attention? No. He just kept at her, like Saint did, like Paul, until she forgot to be always on guard.

Paul. The thought transformed desire into unease, and she pushed away from Gerrum’s touch. “My ex-husband would be happy to tell you how inadequate I am.” She closed her eyes against the hot burn of tears. She’d tried to believe Paul’s adultery was all due to a lack in him and not her. Unsuccessfully, it seemed.

Gerrum pulled her back into his arms and settled her head on his shoulder. “Did this husband of yours ever concern himself with your needs, Clen?” The soft words might have been posed by her thoughts rather than by the man whose arms encircled her. Gerrum continued to hold her, letting his question simmer, and that gentleness calmed and comforted her in a way nothing else likely could.

He rubbed his cheek on her hair. “You know, we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

She nestled into him, too exhausted not to let it be. It was enough, for the moment, to have Gerrum’s arms around her. A comfort after the stress of the last two days that she wanted to savor. He shifted, and she realized she’d come close to dozing off.

“Sorry, Clen. My arm was going numb.” He wiggled it as she sat up and ran fingers through her hair.

“It’s time we get you back to the lodge. Although I want you to know it’s not my first choice.”

She stilled and turned to look at him. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she might have weighed her reply, thought it over, but sometime tonight she’d stopped hiding from this man. “It’s not my choice either.” She took a breath and said the rest. “But it’s best. At least for now.”

She stood to find she was weaving with weariness. He helped her with her jacket, then walked her back to the lodge on the quiet streets. At the back door, he turned and placed his hands on her arms. When she met his eyes, his expression made her knees go weak. “I’ll be busy tomorrow morning, but I’ll see you in the afternoon.”

He didn’t kiss her again. She was sorry about that, but also relieved.

Chapter Twenty-two

In the morning, before leaving for the marina, Gerrum called Anders Tolliff. The policeman came ambling along the wharf in plain view of everyone getting ready to head out for the day.

“This about you apologizing for running out of gas and causing a hell of an uproar?” he asked, coming aboard the
Joyful
where Gerrum and Terry were having coffee.

Gerrum poured a cup for Anders. “Didn’t run out of gas. Need to show you a couple of things.”

Anders set the cup down with a sigh. “Nobody ever invites me just for coffee.”

Gerrum led Anders below and showed him the cut wire, then back topside to see the inoperative mike.

Anders sat down and picked up his coffee. “You got any ideas?”

“Got an idea. Nothing I can prove. Yet.”

Anders stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Best you let us deal with it. I’ll have a deputy stop by, see if he can pick up any prints.”

“Doubt you’ll find much, what with the mucking about I did trying to figure things out.”

“Always worth a shot. I’ll send someone over right away.”

Anders left and a half hour later his deputy came, dusted, and departed. John arrived, and while he and Terry cleaned up the mess left by the dusting powder, Gerrum repaired the alternator.

“It ain’t going to be easy, nailing Elmer on this, you think?” Terry said.

“Expect not.”

“All this fingerprinting. Won’t do no good if he wore gloves. Besides, they probably don’t have any of Elmer’s prints to check against.”

“When you’re at the bar these next couple of nights, stand old Elmer a drink and collect the can.”

“Hey. I saw that in a movie once. That works, huh?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

Gerrum left to put in motion his part of the plan to nudge Elmer into the open. His first stop was Maude’s Café, because if there was one thing a person in Wrangell could count on, it was Maude’s love of gossip and her talent and dedication to spreading it around. His plan still had a chance only if John were correct—that no one ever lost betting on Cantrell’s stupidity.

Gerrum was counting on it.

Clen snapped awake with tears on her cheeks and lay still trying to remember why she’d been crying. But the dream slipped away, leaving a wetness on her face and a tightness in her chest. Then she remembered. Gerrum had been found. He was safe.

She climbed out of bed and went to the window to find the
Joyful
’s mast was right where it belonged.

After breakfast, to pass the time until she would see Gerrum, Clen grabbed her sketchbook and headed into the morning with Kody. She decided to walk to the petroglyph beach where black boulders etched with ancient graffiti lay. With the sun dodging in and out of clouds, the play of light and shadow would keep her hands and mind occupied for a time. Besides, the carvings were Alaskan and drawings of them might please Hailey and the odd tourist or two.

When they reached the beach, Kody found a sunny spot and flopped down while Clen went in search of a carving. She located one and sat drawing it. After a time, her pencil lifted off the paper and she sat staring at the water lapping among the rocks—sliding and rippling, now a dark tea color, now the shine of liquid gold. She thought about seeing Gerrum later and felt something she hadn’t felt since those heady days at Marymead when a call on the intercom meant Saint was downstairs waiting for her. She shook her head, irritated with herself. It was well past time for her to stop dwelling on the past.

Something, incidentally, with which Sister Mary John at Resurrection concurred. “Sometimes, Clen, it’s best to let go. Not try to remember. Unless...”

Ah yes. Always the other shoe dropping in her conversations with Mary John. That time the “unless” had been, “unless the past is distorting the present.”

But the past always distorted the present. It had, after all, led to the present. Clen sighed. With a sudden rumble, her stomach reminded her of the meals she’d missed while Gerrum was lost. She collected Kody and walked back as far as Maude’s Café. Usually she avoided Maude, who was a snoop and a gossip, but today, hunger overruled reticence.