Cotton Grass Lodge (19 page)

The odd angle of evening light cast long shadows as they walked toward the cabins. Alice broke the silence. “You brought the papers from Derrick’s lawyer in today’s mail. The divorce papers.”

“Is he going to be reasonable?” Hanna knew enough of Alice’s story to know the answer to her question. She couldn’t help wondering about the man though. Could he flip a switch so easily? Could he deny responsibility for this adorable family?

“He won’t accept any responsibility for Emily,” Alice said. “He says the pre-nuptial agreement I signed includes unexpected pregnancy.”

“Nice guy.” Hanna repositioned the drowsy baby from one hip to the other and kissed her on the top of her head.

“I kinda thought his mother would want to keep in contact, at least for Emily.” Alice sighed. “The papers forbid me from contacting any of his family. I feel so stupid.”

“Alice! You are not stupid.” Hanna stopped and took Alice’s arm. “Those people made the mistake. You’re smart and pretty and the most disgusting optimist I know.” They walked on. “I think you should go see a lawyer before you sign anything. He shouldn’t get away with stranding you up here like he did.”

“Yeah, but.” Color cascaded across Alice’s face. “He told me I couldn’t come, and I took the credit card out of his wallet. It makes me wonder about my character.”

“He stranded you up here, and you’re worried about your character?”
Why do women think this way?
“You have a great character. Coming to Cotton Grass Lake without permission isn’t enough reason for a divorce. My theory is you learn from experience about judging character. You make decisions based on trust and an optimistic or pessimistic point of view.”

“Then, why don’t you trust Duncan?” Alice asked. “He’s a great guy, and he’s crazy about you.”

Hanna blanched. “I don’t want to talk about Duncan.” But Alice knew how many late nights Duncan had spent at Hanna’s cabin the last time she was here. “What’s going on with Tom?” A ring of conspiratorial laughter surrounded the two.

Conversation about men idled until Emily was bathed. The wine began to put a muzzy perspective on the day. Hanna didn’t mind being nosy. “Alice, what do you see in Tom? I’ve never thought of him beyond being the local handyman—with issues.”

Alice lounged, leaning on a pile of pillows on the bed with Emily next to her. Hanna sat in a broken swivel office chair with an odd cant to one side. She propped her feet on the end of the bed to keep it from rolling. A straight-backed kitchen chair sat between them holding the wine bottle and a plate piled with cream cheese, black olives, smoked salmon, and a pile of the large unsalted crackers, called pilot bread
.
Ten p.m. sunshine glanced drunkenly through the screens on the windows and hung up on dust particles suspended in the air.

“You’re right, he has his issues, but there’s something about him so—solid.” Alice drifted off into space for a minute. “Yeah, solid.” She blushed. “And real, he’s comfortable with who he is. When he says something he doesn’t apologize. I like it.”

Hanna thought about her ex-husband. “As long as he isn’t mean.”

“Oh, gosh no. He’s the kindest man I think I ever met.” She dropped her eyes to the wine, a tentative smile played with the corners of her mouth.

Hanna fought hard to regain her toehold on the top of an old mountain of doubt. “It’s good to hear. My husband was mean, and he never apologized because he was always right. I still wonder if I could have made my marriage work. I tried so hard. I know the answer, but I still wonder.”

“Is your ex why you won’t relax and enjoy Duncan? He doesn’t sound anything like your first husband.” Alice took another little sip of her wine.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Hanna asked. “It would change everything. I can’t see my future with him because I can’t see his future here, and I don’t want to leave the lake.”

“What if it
does
work out?” Alice pursed her lips into a rose-bud smile and batted her eyelashes. “It would change everything.”

“Right.” Hanna blamed the blaze of warmth flushing through her on the wine. “You make it sound easy.”

Alice sat forward to reposition a pillow. “I did the best I could, Derrick didn’t want us, and everything I expected got changed.” She shrugged. “I think it is easy.” She lifted her glass in salute, “Here’s to changed plans.” She smiled sweetly and tipped her gaze toward Emily’s tousled head resting against her hip. “…and complications.”

Chapter 19

The next morning the CB crackled at ten o’clock with the local news. Because it was Alice’s day off, Duncan finished up in the kitchen then went into the little office alcove in the lodge room to hear more clearly. The fishing trip Jacob had given him yesterday was more fun than a grown man should be allowed to have but his casting arm ached and he was sunburned. His only regret for the day was not seeing Hanna when she came back to the lake.

Duncan absentmindedly straightened the desk while Bill Jefferson took a turn on the broadcast: he was going to fly his plane up to Willow if anyone needed to go. From Willow, riders were on their own.

Someone else was having a woodcutting party on Saturday, they’d provide the beer.

Mathew was substituting for Jacob’s fish guide assignment because Naomi was in labor.

“What?” Duncan said aloud. He pulled out the desk chair and sat listening intently.

Hanna’s voice crackled over the air and asked what else they needed. She reminded Jacob she had a plane at the lake if Naomi had trouble with the delivery. Damn, her voice sounded low and sexy, and he dragged his attention back to the radio.

Two ladies from across the lake said not to worry about food, they knew Leah would be helping Naomi. They would provide supper.

“Break.” Alice piped in from her cabin, “Alice here, I could watch all the children at Leah and Mathew’s house.”

“Break-12, Tom here, Alice, switch to channel seventeen, we’ll work out the details, I can take you up in my skiff.”

“Duncan, are you there? Over.” Jacob’s voice reflected tight control.

“Yes, what can I do? Over,” Duncan replied.

“I’m gonna be home for the week. Sorry if it presents a problem for your guests. Over.”

“You take all the time you need. They’re only fishing. Over.”

The excitement around the lake subsided with the birth of a healthy baby boy.

****

The next day the septic system attached to the shower house went back to priority number one for Duncan. Every afternoon he let Tom do the chores while he put another two hours into digging in the pit.

He allowed himself the guilty pleasure of not doing the chores. Fueling the generator, filling the water tanks, checking propane levels, fueling the equipment and on and on the list went. Duncan realized he was slacking by choosing to shovel bucket after bucket out of the pit. Oh, what he would give for a back-hoe.

Duncan’s reverie about chores ended abruptly when, without warning, icy water splashed over his sweltering sweat-drenched back. “What the?” He whirled. Looking up from the pit. Dirt turned to mud as the water cascaded over one bare shoulder and trickled down the cracks of his body, collecting sludge on its way.

Above him Hanna stood with another glass in her hand. “This one only has lemonade. Do you want it?”

“What I want is a hose with water pressure. Girl, you have no idea how close you are to being tossed into the lake.”

She wiggled the glass, sloshing the liquid, “Lemonade?”

“Yes.” Duncan went to the ladder-end of the pit. “Thanks.” When he emerged, he pulled a shirt over his filthy torso and reached for the glass. “Could you arrange for the water to be warmer next time? I wouldn’t complain if you used about fifty gallons either.” Duncan’s heart swelled at the sight of her. “I missed you yesterday.”

“Yes, you did.” Hanna held the glass, and her hand didn’t let go when he took it. She seemed preoccupied for a moment, her dark eyes contemplated his, then she smiled, and the seriousness evaporated into a wicked gleam. “I know a place.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “I know a place where the water is warm and shallow, and the people who know about this place wouldn’t be using it today.”

“Do you?” Anticipation leaped from Duncan’s chest to his groin. He seldom had time with Hanna, duty and obligation had kept them apart and occupied for most of the time she was at the lake.

“Yes, and you’ll get to see the reason we call this place Cotton Grass Lake,” she said. “It’s blooming now, the cotton grass, about two acres in one spot, I noticed when I flew in.” Grinning she gave a prima-donna hand wave. “I took the liberty of telling your social secretary you were gone for the afternoon, I have the non-polluting soap, and I have reserved a chariot.”

“I really like the way you take charge of a situation,” Duncan said and drained the glass. “Do you want the job permanently?”

“No.”

Duncan reached for her. “I could make it worth your while.”

She danced out of reach and trotted toward the machine shed. “No.”

Duncan rode behind Hanna on the green ATV, paying little attention to the circuitous route she took to the end of the lake. After the relaxation of the day before and his strenuous ditch digging, he was content to wallow in the slow moving afternoon and day dream about taking Hanna’s clothes off.

She stopped the four wheeler and pointed. “There, see what I mean?”

The dazzling tufts of Cotton Grass spread out away from them in a peaty bog meandering along the margins of the lake. “Beautiful.” Duncan shifted in the seat.

“Look out there at the grass,” Hanna said, “not at me.”

“I did look at the grass, and you’re both beautiful.”

Hanna started the machine again, the noise breaking into the pleasant silence of the warm afternoon. A short time later, she parked and shut the four-wheeler off and swung her leg off and held her hand out. “We have to hurry, the minute the sun goes behind those trees it isn’t warm enough to enjoy.”

Duncan took her hand, and they walked along the spongy trail next to a trickle of water, soon they came upon a low bank of rocks and a pool of water the size of a large, shallow hot tub. Obviously, the work of industrious locals. Someone had lined the bottom with black landscape fabric and a thin layer of gravely sand. Several larger rocks held down a two by six plank to sit on.

“I don’t come often. It isn’t warm enough most of the time when I’m here.” She seemed shy as she began to undress.

Duncan realized he’d made love to this woman and never really seen her. She unlaced and unbuttoned and unzipped and carefully put her clothing in a neat pile on top of her boots. He would be forced to follow suit soon and reveal his desire and his scars. Slowly he began to undress, never taking his eyes off her naked body. She stepped into the thigh-deep pool and shivered as the cool water climbed up her legs.

The still afternoon had warmed the water to a very nice temperature, and she waited to scrub the soap across his back until he’d gotten accustomed to it. They dunked and lolled in the water for a while without talking. Bird calls and insects buzzing were the only sounds.

“My turn,” Duncan said taking the plastic squeeze bottle away from her. She wound her hair into a knot, held it above her head, and he gently scooped a handful of water onto her shoulders and worked the lather. His hands moved down her back, and at her waist he turned her body to slide his hands gently across her breasts.

The kiss seemed a natural extension of their intimate dance. A gentle, sweet kiss smelling of peppermint. Her soapy hand slid lower grasping his desire and the sweet kiss deepened.

Her husky voice whispered, “Could we please rinse off and go back to my cabin? Please?”

“Ah, woman, you’re killing me.”

She slid off the improvised bench and went neck deep into the water. A few bubbles danced with her hair as it spread fan like around her. Then she rose quickly and gingerly picked her way to the side and got out. Duncan followed after dunking the lather off own body.

A small cloud drifted between them and the sun sending an immediate layer of goose bumps to ward off his building passion, “Foreplay doesn’t last long out here,” Duncan grumbled.

Hanna hopped on one foot while putting on her last boot. “I like foreplay. Wouldn’t you like it to happen more than once?”

Duncan brightened. “There’s a thought.” He tossed her shirt at her. “Hurry-up.”

Chapter 20

One morning the first week in August, Alice was late getting to work. Duncan used a paper towel to pick up a dead shrew the cat had left in front of the back door and tossed it out the back door for the ravens.

“Why do you do bring these things in here?” he asked Frosty, who was doing figure eights around Duncan’s legs. The cat sat in front of his cabinet, waiting. Duncan measured out cat kibbles into a pan by the back door and then went back and measured coffee into the French press. He was learning, first things first.

He hadn’t made coffee in a week and realized how spoiled he’d gotten. As he worked he got to wondering what could have kept Alice. She was one of the most punctual people he’d ever met. In fact, she was a great package. Smart, quick at organization, calm to a fault, all wrapped up as sweet and naïve as he had ever met.

She also picked up each morning’s dead animal from the back door.

As the kettle started to scream Alice burst through the door. “Duncan I’m sorry. I—we—I got some.” She stopped, tipped her head back and took a deep breath. She started again, in control this time. “Sorry, the bear was out front of my cabin when I usually start out for the lodge. I sat down to wait for him to leave, and I fell asleep. When I woke up he was gone-but.” She shrugged and put Emily into her high-chair. “I’m late.”

Concern for their safety rumbled through Duncan’s middle. “Does it happen often? Is the bear a problem?” Tom had started walking her home at night, but she and Emily came to the lodge from her cabin in the very early morning by herself.