EDGE (5 page)

Then he saw her.

Amelia Bennett.

Like a fist to the chest, recognition hit him. The last photograph he’d seen of her had been when she was eighteen. She’d been placed in drug rehab for an accidental overdose. At least, that’s what the papers had reported. Many speculated that it had been attempted suicide. Cache was one of them.

She looked much the same as that last photo. Long blond hair, a little darker with age. Same regal bearing, daring anyone to question her. Same pure alabaster skin as white as virgin snow. She should have looked unhealthy, but the color of her skin gave her a vulnerability that contradicted her don’t-touch-me demeanor.

The eyes would tell. No one had eyes the color of Amelia Bennett’s, and he’d looked into a lot of them. Taken thousands of headshots, and nobody’s had come close to sucking him into their depths the way hers had.

Aviator glasses shaded the woman’s eyes, but she held a sign that read, “Edge of Reason Lodge.”

This was the woman they’d come to expose.

He nudged Tom.

“Oh, my God. That’s her, isn’t it?”

“Come on, Britney. Let’s say hello.”

They walked up to Amelia, Tom dragging his bags behind him, Cache with his camera bag swung over his shoulder, his duffel in one hand, his cane in the other. She saw them and gave a welcoming smile.

“Hi. You must be Mr. Spears and Mr. Cruise. Welcome to Alaska. I’m Mel Bennett, and I’ll be your pilot.”

“You’re the pilot?” Tom asked, his disbelief coming off as an insult.

“Yes. Do you have an issue with that?”

“Uh…” Tom slid a glance at Cache.

Cache lifted a brow, wondering how the man was going to get himself out of his blunder.

Tom cleared his throat, and just when Cache thought he’d climbed out of the hole that he’d just dug, the man had to dig a little deeper. “How long have you been flying and what’s your training?”

Cache shook his head in pity. Tom wasn’t going to survive the trip.

“Don’t worry Mr.—” she looked at her clipboard “—are you Cruise or Spears?”

“Call me Tom.”

“Don’t tell me you’re Tom Cruise?”

“No, no. Spears. Tom Spears, but call me Tom.”

“All right, Tom. As I was saying, you don’t have a thing to worry about. I do more flying than driving.” A mischievous grin teased her lips. “I haven’t had an emergency landing in, oh, at least three months, but there’d been a blizzard, and I got socked in. Be assured, there’s no snow today’s forecast.”

Cache already liked her. “You’ll have to excuse Tom. The man doesn’t travel much.” He flashed a smile, dropped his duffel and held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Cache. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She took his hand, her brows rose in surprise above the rims of her glasses, and a charge shot up his arm.

What the hell was that?

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Watch ye and pray, lest ye enter into temptation. The spirit truly is ready, but the flesh is weak.

~MARK 14:38

Mel stood dumbstruck with her hand still enclosed within the warm clasp of Cache Cruise’s. Hell’s bells, the last thing she needed was a guest who revved her engine. She let go of his hand with relief.

“If you’ll follow me, gentlemen, we’ll get your bags loaded.” Her eyes widened at the luggage Tom struggled with. The man was outfitted in clothes she’d bet he’d just ripped the tags off of that morning, and didn’t look as though they’d stand up against Alaska’s hostile environment. She glanced back to what Cache carried. Well, at least he could hold his own. She’d probably be fishing Tom out of the ocean by the time their trip was over.

Cache seemed to have the worst of it with his pronounced limp. Although he’d packed light, she wanted to give him a hand, but instinctively knew he’d be insulted by the offer. How would he fare when they reached the demands of The Edge?

They made their way out of the airport to the waiting van she’d chartered. Mel made the introductions during the short jaunt where she had her plane docked at Lake Hood, just around the corner from the airport. They unloaded, and she paid the driver. It would take them an hour and half to reach The Edge

“It’ll be a tight fit with everyone and the luggage.” She eyed Tom’s pile of suitcases, opened the compartment in the nose of the plane, and began stuffing them in. She probably shouldn’t have made that Cosco run for supplies. They’d been low on chocolate and toilet paper. Two things she wasn’t willing to go without.

“Aunt Mel, are you the pilot?” Quentin asked, his eyes wide as he gazed at the Cessna.

“Yes, I am.” She motioned for his bag. He brought it to her, and she added it to the rest. It was a puzzle distributing the weight throughout the plane and getting it all to fit.

“I’ve never flown in a plane that takes off on totally freakin’ water,” Quentin said, awed.

“Quentin,” Nicole scolded. “What have I told you about using that word?”

“But, Mom, the plane takes off on
water
. How sweet is that?”

“Pretty sweet,” Cache commented, handing Mel his duffel. “Wait until we get to land on water too.”

“Oh, man.” Quentin turned a beaming smile toward his mother. “I
love
this place.”

His sister snorted. “The bugs are eating me alive. How much longer?” Emily slapped a mosquito off her arm.

“Get your bag over here, and we’ll get going,” Mel said. Her niece looked to be of the same ilk as Tom, who stood off to the side eyeing the airplane. Emily brought her bag over with a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long summer if the kid didn’t change her attitude. “All right, here are the seating arrangements. Nicole, I need you in the back. Emily, Quentin, you’re in the middle with Cache. Tom, you’re up front with me.”

“Uh…no,” Tom objected. “Cache, you ride up front.”

“You have an aversion to riding shotgun?” Mel asked.

“Uh…yeah. I don’t feel comfortable sitting up there...so close to the…blades.”

The weight of the passengers would be better suited to have one of the men up front, but she wasn’t forcing an injured man into her cockpit. If they even got him in, how would they get him out? “All right, we’ll do this. Cache, you take Nicole’s seat. Nicole, you’re up front with me.” She hoped Nicole wouldn’t feel the need to “catch up” during the time it would take to fly to The Edge.

“You going to be okay with weight, that way?” Cache asked, obviously understanding the way small planes operated. “I can make Tom ride shotgun.”

“Hey,” Tom objected.

Cache held Mel’s gaze until she began to feel uncomfortable. He saw too much. She was the first to break the connection. “It’ll be fine. Okay, everyone, hop aboard.”

While they followed her orders, Mel redistributed a few of the heavier bags to the front luggage compartment.

She untied the plane from the dock and climbed in. Before strapping herself into her seat, she glanced back to make sure her passengers were buckled up. Cache gave her a thumbs-up from the back. She turned around and started the plane, placing her headset on and radioing the tower. They were given clearance, and she taxied out to the main channel. A few adjustments to the flaps and rudder, and a hell of lot more throttle than she normally needed, and they were airborne. She thought she heard a squeal from Quentin. Now that was one person she was going to enjoy getting to know this summer.

She double-checked the plane’s instrument panel, and then covertly studied Nicole as they flew away from Anchorage over Cook Inlet toward the Kenai Peninsula.

Nicole stared straight ahead, her skin pale, her eyes glazed as though she hadn’t slept in a while. Mel had barely recognized her when she’d walked into the airport. She’d gained some weight, but besides that, her shoulders were hunched, clothes wrinkled and worn, not a stitch of makeup covered the dark circles under her eyes. There was a time when Nicole would have refused to leave the house without an armor of make-up and dressed in the latest style.

The night was perfect for flying. Although it was late the sky resembled dusk rather than full night. The sun would be rising soon, and any shadow of night would disappear. For right now, the air was still, and her plane sailed through the sky. The Kenai Peninsula shone like an emerald jewel below them. As they flew, she randomly informed them of points of interest, including the active volcanic chain of Mt. Spur, Redoubt, Iliamna, and Augustine, which was currently smoking.

“To the right of us is Homer, and that long arm reaching out into the ocean is called The Spit.” Mel’s voice cracked through the speakers. “We are now flying over Kachemak Bay. The lodge lies just north of Tutka Bay and about midway between Seldovia and Halibut Bay.”

Nicole seemed to perk up and looked around at her surroundings. Mel was glad she was showing a pulse. She didn’t need a nervous breakdown on her hands.

Mel had picked up four other guests the night before, David Smith and his young son, Jonah, who was about Quentin’s age, and an older couple, the Whitneys, celebrating their second honeymoon. The summer promised to be a busy one. For the first time, they were booked solid. Money wouldn’t be an issue this winter if everything ran smooth.

She slowed the plane’s speed and added ten degree of flaps as her little cove came into view. She banked left and reduced speed to sixty knots. Nicole clutched the arms of her seat as the plane dipped closer to the surface of the ocean. When she caught sight of the lodge perched on the edge of the cove, she sat up in her seat to get a better look out of the cockpit window. Her mouth dropped open in obvious wonder.

Mel felt the same way every time she saw it from the air. The place was welcoming, and magical. A place to heal and regenerate.

They only allowed six guests at a time, so the lodge was never overrun. They offered a list of activities from beach combing to hiking the secret nature trails throughout the Kachemak Bay State Park. There was fishing, sea kayaking, wildlife, and touring the neighboring villages of Seldovia and Halibut Cove.

Mel pulled steady on the yoke, keeping the nose up until the pontoons greased the glass-like surface of the water. She lowered the rudders, steering toward the dock where Rinka ran back and forth, her bushy tail wagging her whole body.

“Whose dog?” Quentin spoke up from the middle seat.

“Mine. Her name’s Rinka.”

“Does she bite?” Emily asked.

“Nah. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. Unless you come across a bear. Then she can get fierce.”

“Bears!” Quentin, Emily, and Tom said together. Though Quentin sounded more excited about the possibility than Emily and Tom did.

“Are there a lot of bears around?” Nicole finally spoke.

“A few. We’ll go over the rules tomorrow…er, later today when you’ve had some sleep. The most important thing to remember is not to leave food lying around, and if you see any bears, give them space, and they usually won’t bother you.”

“Usually?” Nicole seemed more apprehensive by the moment, which was hard, considering how she’d looked since Mel had picked her up. She obviously hadn’t thought about the actual day-to-day living in Alaska. She was in for one hell of an education this summer.

Mel coasted the plane alongside the dock and powered it down. Sergei, the lodge’s guide and all around handyman, waited to assist her. She radioed into the Flight Service Station, closed her flight plan, and then took off her headset, while Sergei secured the plane for unloading. Opening the door, she climbed onto the pontoon, and hopped to the dock. Rinka was right there to greet her.

Mel rubbed her head between her hands and let Rinka lick her face. She laughed and released her. Rinka bounded up the dock to the beach, stopped and waited.

One by one, the occupants disembarked while Sergei began unloading the luggage. Nicole stepped onto the pontoon, her balance precarious. She gained the dock and breathed a sigh of relief. “Anything I can do to help?”

Taken aback, Mel took time with her answer. “Sergei and I have it under control for now.” Nicole never offered help growing up, which was one of the reasons Mel didn’t have high hopes for her staying all summer.

Cache climbed out of the plane, pain lines bracketed his mouth as he struggled with his cane on the wobbly dock.

“Everyone, this is Sergei. He’s one of the best guides around, and, fair warning, he can drink you under the table.”

“Velcome to The Edge.” Sergei’s Russian accent, dark shoulder-length hair, and European features made him a favorite with the ladies—and a few of the men—who visited.

“Sergei, would you please take Cache and Tom to the lodge so that they can get settled in.” She regarded Cache’s cane and made a decision. “Put Cache in the bear room.”

“On main floor?” Sergei raised his brows in surprise. The room was across the hall from hers, and he knew she valued her privacy as though it were gold.

She nodded.

He loaded up the bags with his powerful arms, and Tom followed him up the dock gazing around wide-eyed at the scenery. Cache plodded behind, his limp more pronounced as he struggled in the sand.