Heart Of Gold (30 page)

“Enough!”
Nick slammed his hands down on his desk and shot to his feet. “Do not push
me on this one!”

Cort
stepped back, dazed by the reaction.

Nick took
a deep breath and sat down, regretting his explosion and feeling ragged.

“I
didn't know you cared so much . .. about her,” Cort mumbled while looking
at him with wide, cautious eyes.

Nick
pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well I do.”

Cort's
head tilted to the side and the kid looked at him closely.

In the
silence that followed, Wessex got up and poured himself a brandy from the bar.

“She
has a lot of people who care about her,” the man said as he sat back down
and swirled the glass in his palm.

Cort
glanced over at him. “You look like her, you know that?”

“I
know.”

“She's
really upset.” The kid looked back and forth between the two older men who
were quiet. He finally settled on Wessex. “Hey, you're her father. You
should go talk to her. That's what my dad would've done if I were upset.
Whenever I woke up from a nightmare, he was always there. It made me feel
better.”

Cort
started shifting his weight back and forth, as if he expected Carter's father
to leap out of the chair and leave the house.

“So
you should go to her,” he prompted.

“You're
right,” Wessex allowed. The hopeless desolation about him was at odds with
his sophisticated dress and polished voice.

“So
why aren't you going?”

“It's
a long story.”

“But
it's just a short walk up the mountain.”

Wessex, still staring
into his glass, did not reply.

Cort
shrugged awkwardly. “Well, do what you want. But I'd go up there if I were
you. Who doesn't want their father when they're feeling bad?”

Nick
watched as the man stiffened.

“So
.. . ummm ... good night, Uncle Nick.”

“Good
night,” Nick returned softly.

Cort left
the room, closing the door quietly.

“God,
I wish I had done so much differently,” Wessex said. “And if only I
could walk up that mountain and sit her down, talk to her and have her
listen.”

Nick
leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head and thinking that
he and Wessex were in the same boat.

“Maybe
you should try,” he suggested. “You never know. Time changes
things.”

“Did
you see the expression on her face? I don't think time has worked in my favor.”
The man swallowed the last of his drink and got to his feet. “Good night,
Farrell.”

Nick
nodded.

Left
alone, he stared into space. An hour later, he got up from his desk and headed
upstairs himself. He went to his suite of rooms, took a shower, and got into
bed with no illusions that sleep was going to come easy.

Lying
flat on his back, with his eyes clamped shut and his body rigid under the
sheets, he waited for hours to lose consciousness. When sleep did come, it
teemed with nightmares in which Carter was in danger and he could not save her.

* * *

The next
morning, Carter watched the sun rise over the mountains from her favorite
boulder overlooking the lake. She stayed there, witnessing the day come alive,
with little enthusiasm. She was waiting until she could handle facing Buddy and
Ellie but, as the sun got higher and she didn't feel any better, she gave up.

It was
going to take a hell of a lot longer than a matter of hours to feel like
herself again.

As she
approached camp, she saw Buddy lighting the fire. Unable to bear his mute
concern, she told him to meet her at the site.

Inside
the circle of stones, she went over to the newest skeletal discovery and pulled
back the tarp. With it they'd found Revolutionary period military buttons and
the bayonet of a Brown Bess, all of which marked the man as a Brit. This
meant,, with three-quarters of the site excavated, three other people from the
party were still missing. Winship, one other patriot, and the Indian. Her gaze
skipped across the undisturbed ground, all that was standing between her and
freedom.

How long
would it take to finish? she wondered listlessly.

Getting
down on her knees, she reexamined the remains. The skeleton was almost
completely revealed, and she went to work on the man's feet.

Despite
the bucolic sounds of birds and the scent of pine in the air, she was anything
but at peace. In the morning light, she found it next to impossible not to
think about Nick and her father. Even though she'd spent all night dwelling on
their betrayals, there seemed to be no end to her mind's desire to rehash what
had happened.

"When
Buddy appeared with some coffee, she took a mug from him with an attempt at a
smile.

“You
don't need to pretend around me,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“No,
but right now I feel like I need to pretend around myself.”

By the
time Ellie showed up, the skeleton was completely exposed and Buddy was taking
pictures.

“Do
you think we'll find the others?” the girl asked, dancing around the pit.
She'd pulled her hair back in a ponytail and it bounced up and down with her.

Watching
the girl's enthusiasm, Carter was overwhelmed with sadness. She was years and
miles away from that kind of carefree happiness, feeling old and beaten down in
comparison.

“We'll
have to wait and see. First, we've got to get this skeleton out of the
ground.” She looked around for one of the larger containers. “Hey,
does anyone need anything from the site? I'm going back to get a storage
bin.”

“More
coffee,” Buddy answered from behind the camera.

Carter
picked up the thermos and walked into the trees.

* * *

Nick was
pulled out of a restless sleep by someone banging on his bedroom door.

“Go
away,” he called out.

The
knocking didn't stop.

“What
the hell is the problem?” He shot out of bed, grabbing a sheet and
pulling it around his waist. When he wrenched the door open, Wessex jumped back.

“Sorry
to wake you.”

The man
looked as if he hadn't slept well either.

“S'all
right.” Nick rubbed a hand over his eyes. His voice was a hoarse growl.
“What time is it?”

“Before
eight. What size shoe do you wear?”

“Eleven.”
Nick answered on instinct before wondering why the guy cared. “What's
up?”

“I
need a pair of hiking boots.”

Nick came
fully awake.

“I spent
most of last night thinking about her,” Wessex explained. “I have to
try or I will never forgive myself. To be this close and not reach out...”

“I'll
meet you in the kitchen,” Nick said quickly.

He shut
the door, dropped the sheet, and began pulling on clothes.

When he
got downstairs, Wessex was pacing back and forth in front of the refrigerator.
Now that he was more awake, Nick noticed that the man had on another elegant
linen suit. The fact that he wasn't wearing a tie seemed like Wessex's only concession to leisure,

“I
keep the hiking gear in the mudroom,” Nick told him. “You want to
borrow some clothes?”

Wessex seemed surprised
and looked down at what he was wearing. “This is comfortable
enough.”

“When
was the last time you went up a mountain?”

“Summer
camp, perhaps. But I'll be fine.”

Nick kept
his doubts to himself and led the way to a room off the kitchen where the
sports equipment and foul-weather gear were kept. He handed over a pair of
hiking boots that Wessex put on.

“So
how do I get up there?”

“Come
on, I'll show you the way to the trail.” When they were outside, Nick
pointed at the forest's edge. “You go through that break in the
woods—”

“What
break?” Wessex squinted.

“Here,
I'll take you over.” Hell, Nick was prepared to drag Wessex up the mountain if he had to. He was hoping for the best. If her father could
somehow get up there and talk to Carter, if somehow a miracle happened .. .

“I
say, Farrell, are you sure there's a trail in these woods?”

If
somehow the man didn't get lost and end up in Canada.

“Why
don't I walk you up part of the way?”

“That
would be most appreciated.”

The two
men entered the forest and were silent for a while. Then, Wessex spoke up.

“When
Carter was young,” he said, as if talking to himself, “I was gone a
lot. Actually, that was true when she was grown, too, but I regret more my absences
when she was little. Anyway, in those early days, she would wait for me
to come home well into the night. No matter how late I was due to arrive.”

The trail
began to incline and Wessex started to breathe heavily. Nick slowed the pace,
concentrating on the man's words.

“The
house she grew up in, the one I still live in now, has a tremendous front hall
with a grand staircase. It's cavernous, really, and must have been quite spooky
for a small child in the dark. Inevitably, though, I would come through the
door and there, curled on her side in her pj's, would be Carter asleep on the
stairs. It couldn't have been comfortable.”

Wessex cleared his
throat between pulling in lungfuls of air. “She was ... so tiny in that
space, so very small.”

Nick
paused so Wessex could catch his breath. As they stood in a cool draught of air
that was funneling down the mountain, the man took out a handkerchief and wiped
his brow.

“I
would open the iron-latticed door and, even though it never made a sound, she
would come awake instantly. I don't know how she knew it was me, she just did.
She would leap up and run into my arms, throwing herself at me. There was .. .
such love in her eyes. In all my life, no one has ever shown me that kind of
love.”

They
started walking again. Nick's heart ached as he remembered Carter's eyes
looking at him with such warmth.

“When
she got older and went off to boarding school, I would come home, open the door
and be looking forward to seeing her. It took years for me to remember she
didn't live with us anymore. I tell you, that front hall never looked emptier
than in the moment when I would realize she wasn't waiting for me.”

The man
fell silent for awhile, breathing so hard he couldn't speak.

This time
when they stopped, Nick settled on a rock so Wessex wouldn't be embarrassed by
his lack of breath. Sinking gratefully against a boulder, Carter's father
leaned down and braced his hands on his knees.

“I
filled it up with art, you know. The lobby. It's hung with Old-world masters.
Changed the rug, too. It used to be pale to match the white marble. Now it's
red.” He looked up at Nick. “It still feels cold, though.”

They
resumed the hike and Nick took him to within a hundred yards of the clearing
that faced the lake.

“Keep
heading this way,” he said. “You'll get to an open stretch with a
long view and the trail keeps going behind it. The campsite is to the left.
You'll see it clearly.”

“Thank
you,” Wessex murmured and started off by himself.

Nick
watched him disappear into the trees, wondering what had really happened the
night Carter's mother died. He had no idea whether the man who had just limped
up the mountain was cruel or simply fallible. His emotions, however, had been
obvious. He missed his daughter and would do anything for a second chance.

Nick knew
exactly how that felt.

Carter
was rummaging around Papercut Central when her father emerged from the trees.
She stopped moving as she looked into his face. She told herself she shouldn't
be surprised that he'd come up. But she was.

He looked
older than she remembered, less vital. The dirt smudged on the legs of his
pants and the twig hanging off one shoulder added to the perception.

“Hello,
Carter.”

As soon
as she heard his voice, she became angry again. “What are you doing
here?”

“I
wanted to see you.”

She
realized numbly that his inflection was as she remembered, carrying just the
hint of an English accent. The tone was off, though. It was more hesitant than
she was used to.

Carter
resumed searching for the storage bin. “Then you've wasted the trip up and
ruined an expensive suit.”

He didn't
leave, just stood on the fringes of camp.

“I've
missed you,” he said softly. “It has been very hard ... to be away
from you.”

“Good.”
She stood up, having found the container. “I hope it hurts like hell. Now
go away.”

She
started toward the site.

“Do
you want to know why I send you the watches?”

She
wheeled around, her tone combative. “Because your secretary doesn't
remember what she sent me the year before?”

“I
buy them myself. I keep meaning to get you something else but the watches seem
so appropriate. The time passing . . . It's been so long.”

His sad
expression as his words trailed off made her pity him for a brief moment. It was
an unexpected emotion. But then images of her mother's funeral surged forward,
cutting through any compassion she felt.

“Then
you should keep the damn things. I'm not marking time. I left you behind for a
damn good reason and I haven't looked back.”

The words
were a low blow and Carter knew it. She watched as he winced.

“I
know you haven't,” he said slowly. “But the watches, they're ... my
waiting, my hoping.”

There was
a long pause as their eyes, identical blue, met across the distance between
them.

“Carter,
I have a lot to apologize for. I never really thought about what or who I'd
left behind for all those years. I never knew how hard it must have been until
I was left behind by you.” Her father took out a handkerchief and blotted
his brow. “Do you know what I miss the most? The way we could speak
without talking. You and I, we were so alike.”