Passions in the North Country (Siren Publishing Classic) (19 page)

“I already told you I was aware of our agreement,” Jenny said.

Devon looked totally exasperated, almost to the point of exhaustion. “Well?”

“Well, Mr. North,” Jenny answered in an assertive tone, “you didn’t buy the sign.”

He was completely baffled. “What do you mean I didn’t buy the sign?”

“I bought it.”

“You bought it?” he mumbled in astonishment. “What are you talking about?”

“It was my gift to Miriam,” Jenny told him. “And it was my gift to you.”

His mouth drooped open.

“I was starting a new life and didn’t know anybody,” Jenny said softly, “but you helped me on that road that night. I was terrified, Devon. And Miriam was nice to me and made me feel welcome here. The sign was a gift, Devon.”

He looked sheepish. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Devon swallowed hard. “That makes me look like a horse’s ass, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” Jenny said, her lips and stare firm.

He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

Jenny gave him a scolding look. “I want to be alone now, please.”

“I’m sorry, Jenny,” he said again, smirking. “I never expected it.”

She walked into the Captain’s Room and closed the door. “You accuse me of disrespecting you,” she said from the other side, “but it’s you who disrespected me. I gave you my word and you think I would break my word? You don’t think much of me, do you, Devon?”

“I’m sorry,” he said like a sinner confessing his sins.

“Fired!” she exclaimed angrily. “I’m tempted to just leave.”

There was a long silence and then Devon moved away from the door and walked across her room. She listened as his steps faded on the stairs. Jenny sighed deeply and honestly considered leaving, but then walked over and laid on the Captain’s bed. She imagined a man holding her, telling her he loved her, trusted her, respected her. Soon she felt warm and put her arm around a pillow, pulling it tightly against the front of her body. Then, all of a sudden, she felt impelled to rise. Jenny hurried downstairs, consumed by the irrational thought that Devon, angry with her, had himself decided to leave and was already gone.

She stepped out of the Captain’s House and saw him in the garden. He instantly turned and acknowledged her, his eyes gleaming. He wanted to speak but was afraid to, and it was obvious he was worried Jenny was going away. She walked right up to him.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked, every nerve in his body on edge. He looked fragile in a strange kind of way and tears welled in his eyes. “Please don’t leave, Jenny. Please.”

“No,” she said softly, “I’m not leaving.”

“Good,” he replied with a sigh, a world of meaning passing between them. He looked fragile, as if he had relinquished much of his power. “The sign is beautiful, Jenny. Thank you.”

She nodded and smiled sweetly. “It is beautiful,” she said proudly.

A couple with children walked by on their way to the office. The woman saw Jenny and Devon, admiring the handsome couple. She waved slightly. “Hello.”

“Hello,” said Devon.

“Hello,” Jenny added as if they were best friends. “Beautiful day.”

“Yes,” the woman replied, continuing to walk but flashing a final glance at the handsome, dashing man.

When they were alone, Devon leaned over and whispered into her ear. “I need to tell you something. Can we go for a walk?”

“All right,” she agreed.

They slowly walked down the driveway, strolling beneath the giant elms, then turned right toward the river. Jenny knew he wanted to talk, but was having a difficult time framing his words, so rather than encourage him, she just walked happily along, commenting on the lovely weather and the abundance of songbirds. Devon made small talk and they spoke comfortably, though neither knew what would come next. When they turned down the little lane that led to the river, they could see no one was within several hundred paces.

“I don’t like deception,” Devon suddenly blurted out.

Jenny cringed.

“I’ve been holding something back,” he said. “Something I haven’t told anyone.”

Jenny felt relieved that he was exclusively into self-examination. “What haven’t you told anyone, Devon?”

“It’s personal, but I want to tell you.”

“I’m all ears,” she said, glancing at him. And she was. Jenny was a notorious eavesdropper at work and she loved all the latest gossip, speculating on who was with whom, and debating whether the rumor about such and such was actually true. But this was about Devon. That meant it was about her. “The absolute truth,” she said, sensing something ominous.

“I never lie,” he said with a sincere expression. “I may withhold, but I don’t lie.”

“Good enough,” she said, sitting on a bench that held two. She sat to one side so he could sit beside her, their bodies touching. “Isn’t it lovely here?”

“Yes,” he said, lowering his strong, big frame next to her. “It’s very lovely.”

“Tell me, Devon,” Jenny said, looking straight ahead.

Devon also looked straight ahead. “I was engaged.”

Jenny was shocked. “When?” she asked, turning to him.

“Just before I came here.”

Jenny looked hard at him. “That’s only been a few months.”

“It has.”

She looked angry. “Are you broken up for good, or just broken up?” There was no room for ambiguity. She wanted to know, and she wanted to know now.

“Forever,” he said, turning to face her. “Forever and ever.”

“Elaborate.”

“Got a few minutes?”

“I’ve got all the time you need.” She leaned back and again looked straight ahead. “Let’s hear your story.”

“I had saved over a million dollars,” Devon said, as if it pained him to admit his success. “For years I worked my ass off and deprived myself of everything except the essentials. I drove the ice roads out west, even set the record my third year for most trips completed. I worked offshore on the rigs, spent a couple years in Alberta’s patch, and then had a chance to go to Russia.”

“Russia?” Jenny said, lifting her eyebrows. “Working in oil, were you?”

“I was.”

“You met her in Russia?” Jenny asked, the note of concern in her voice escaping. “What was her name?”

“Dunya.”

“Dunya? That’s a name I’ve never heard before.”

“‘Dunya Beautyovna’ the other Western men called her. And she was a beautiful woman, that’s for sure. Before I knew it, we were living together in a Moscow apartment. One week stretched to two, to three, to steady. After a couple months, I gave her access to my bank account. Everything was fine and she was very responsible, even frugal. But there was something about Dunya. She loved excitement, anything out of the ordinary. She was like Maria in that way.”

“What way?” Jenny asked.

“She was sexual,” Devon said.

“She cheated on you?” Jenny asked with alarm.

“Dunya liked other women,” Devon said, “and she would openly kiss them and hug them, especially when she was drinking. And it wasn’t normal kissing or hugging. She would try to neck with women, even in front of people, and it was amazing how many would kiss back, especially if they were drinking.”

“That’s odd, Devon, to be perfectly frank,” Jenny said in a businesslike way.

“I thought it might have been a quirk of the culture,” Devon said, “or at least that’s how I justified it. Shortly after, work called me to Omsk, Siberia. When I came back two months later, my account had a little over one hundred thousand dollars left.” He paused and smirked. “The frugal Dunya I knew went on a spending spree when I was away. She spent almost a million dollars of my money on parties, lavish gifts for her friends, booze and dope for her girlfriends, even two hundred thousand dollars for tennis courts in her old neighborhood.”

“Ouch,” Jenny said. She hesitated and suddenly assumed a cute expression. “Well, the tennis courts weren’t too bad.”

Devon laughed. “Yes, I might have done the tennis courts thing myself, but she should have cleared it with me first. It was my money.”

Jenny nodded. “That’s why you were upset about the sign, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“She should not have spent your money like that, Devon. It was theft.”

“If some Anna Tenniskova ends up developing on those courts and wins Wimbledon, I’ll be standing at the gate asking for a cut.”

Jenny laughed at him, and he laughed, too, feeling incredibly relaxed.

“I got done by Dunya,” Devon said. “She was beautiful, like you, and when I met you on the road that night, I didn’t see you. I saw Dunya. I know it wasn’t fair, but that’s human nature. If you have your house broken into, every stranger who walks by looks suspicious. At one time I had enough money to buy the hotel and renovate with plenty left over, but I ended up having to borrow from the bank.” He held up his hands. “That’s the reason I was cold toward you.”

“What happened to Dunya?”

“We broke up, but somehow it was all my fault. I was greedy. I should have thanked her for bringing so much joy into people’s lives. The tennis courts, yes, I can live with them. She even had the uncommon decency to name them after me. No kidding. In a neighborhood in the shadow of a Russian Orthodox church with a huge onion dome are the Devon North Tennis Courts.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding informally. “We went our separate ways and within a week she was shacked up with some old sugar daddy who made his fortune in real estate. He must have been eighty. Sort of the Anna Nicole thing. I’m sure she wouldn’t have refused to help him spend his money.”

“But she was beautiful?” Jenny asked, intrigued.

“A beauty,” he admitted. “Some said she was the most beautiful woman in Moscow.”

“Was the sex good?” Jenny asked, looking directly into his eyes.

“A gentleman never tells,” he answered, cutting her off. “That’s non-negotiable.”

“Was she intelligent?”

“Russian women all have a certain enigmatic depth,” Devon said, “but not her. She was all looks and irrational emotion. At first it’s fascinating and gets into your blood, like a drug, but eventually it wears you out. That’s what she was like. Getting involved with her was like jumping on the wildest ride at the fair. It was never level, always a teeter
totter of emotion, as if that’s how she got her pleasure. Know what I mean? Always playing with you somehow, like a cat plays with a mouse.”

“I know what you mean,” Jenny said solemnly. “I had a guy who was like a spider. That’s what it felt like. He was always there, lurking, stalking me. I hated it.”

“Did you break up on good terms?” Devon questioned with extreme interest.

“A lady never tells,” Jenny said, biting her lip.

“All right. That’s fair.”

“But there is nothing there anymore for this Dunya woman? No feelings for her?”

“None,” he said truthfully. “Did you ever want to get away from someone and never see them again?”

Jenny didn’t say anything.

“Well, if you did,” Devon said, “you’d know how I feel about Dunya. Never again. The tennis courts I could live with, but the deception and the emotional toll she took—that I couldn’t handle.”

Jenny cutely tilted her head. “What are you doing today?”

“Working in the garden.”

“Want company?”

“If the company is you—yes.”

“I’ll get changed,” she said enthusiastically, starting to rise.

He lightly touched her arm and she paused, then sat back. “Thank you for understanding me. I didn’t know if anyone would.”

“I’m enjoying getting to know you,” she said, looking into his eyes.

Devon slowly moved his face forward and touched her cheek with his fingertips. She tilted her head, opened her mouth slightly, and their warm, full lips pressed together. It was the nicest, sweetest, warmest kiss Jenny had ever experienced. And it ended in seconds, as suddenly as it had begun.

“Let’s head back,” she said, glancing at him.

They walked back to the inn and Jenny went up to her room to change. When she returned, she was wearing denim overalls and a lavender tank top. The clothes were conservative, but they could not conceal Jenny’s hourglass shape and her soft curves. Suddenly it didn’t matter, though. He was not a man, and she was not a woman, they were just two friends having fun, enjoying each other’s company, the sparkle of conversation, the feeling of being with someone who tremendously enjoyed being with you.

For several hours they worked side by side planting carrots and tomatoes, and in one section they developed a lovely flower arrangement, with bushes and vines and all things colorful. Frequently they would laugh for no apparent reason, and even the most mundane exchanges would assume a special significance. During the periods of silence they would replay each other’s words, learning as much as they could, and during every second of this silence they were keenly and exquisitely aware of the special pleasures each other’s company brought.

Devon left to get some more seeds and Jenny, now alone, felt almost giddy. It was as if she and Devon were young and innocent, virgins to these incredible feelings, as if they were exploring and discovering anew everything fresh and light and airy. For the first time in their lives, they were truly falling in love.

Jenny returned to her gardening and, her mind occupied by other thoughts, she twisted her back when reaching behind her for a spade. She knew it wasn’t a serious injury, just the sort of annoying strain that would prove bothersome for a few days. She stood up straight, bent left and right, grimaced slightly, then continued to plod away. Devon didn’t notice and she did not tell him.

A short time later a man dressed in a navy suit drove into the parking lot. Carrying a briefcase and looking very somber, he proceeded toward Jenny. He was short, balding, but he had a determined look. All of a sudden she wondered if this nondescript man, a man who would never stand out in any crowd, was actually a hit man sent by Ivan to fulfill the death sentence he had decreed. Any second, she wondered, would he haul out a handgun with a silencer on it, do the foul deed, then collect his bounty?

“Hello, you must be Jenny Lamb.”

“Yes,” she said tentatively, her pulse racing.