“Is anyone home?”
“Come on in!” she called out, and walked out to meet him as he came through the open front door.
He gave her a warm smile and then glanced around the room. “Where’s Harrie?”
Claire hoped she’d hidden her sudden start. She’d forgotten for a moment that Harrie had gone to practice throwing her knives. She could just imagine Chet’s face if he’d had a knife sail in front of him the way she’d had that first morning she’d come to the cabin.
“Oh, she’s playing outside somewhere,” she said, motioning for him to sit down. “We’re going for a hike up to Hunter’s Ridge this afternoon, so she hasn’t gone far.”
He nodded, looking suddenly serious. “I had a visit from Mrs. Bridgemont. She’s one very determined lady.”
Claire sat down hard on a chair. “Oh, Lord. What did she tell you?”
“Not a lot. I understand she isn’t too happy about this temporary arrangement of yours.”
“She isn’t happy about anything that might interfere with her plans to take Harrie away.”
“Yes, I can tell.” He gave her a troubled look. “You know, I suppose, that she’s suing for custody?”
“Yes.” Claire met his gaze steadily. “How good are her chances?”
“It’s hard to tell. Depends a lot on the judge and what kind of evidence she can dig up.”
“Evidence?”
“Anything that will prove Turner Mitchell is not capable of taking proper care of his daughter.”
“Would Harrie have any say in the matter?”
Chet shrugged. “There again, it will depend on the judge.”
Claire sighed, gazing down at her hands. “It doesn’t look good, does it?”
“I would suggest that Mr. Mitchell hire himself a lawyer as soon as possible,” Chet said, getting to his feet. “Mrs. Bridgemont obviously intends to pull out all the stops.”
That’s if Turner could afford a lawyer, Claire thought anxiously. “I’ll certainly tell him,” she said, remembering that he still didn’t know about the custody case.
“I’d like to talk to Harrie, if you think you can find her.”
Startled, Claire looked up at him. “Oh, I’m sure I can find her. Why don’t you wait here while I—”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll come with you. I’d enjoy the walk.”
A feeling of panic rose swiftly as Claire tried to think of a good excuse. All she needed was for him to see Harrie throwing knives at a tree and that would be one big black mark on Turner’s record.
Aware that any hesitation on her part would only arouse Chet’s speculation, Claire got to her feet. “I’m sure she’s not far.” Maybe she could call her name, she thought, and hope that Harrie would leave the knives behind when she came running.
The wind had risen again, rustling the leaves of the alders and larch that surrounded the cabin. It stirred a tiny dust devil in the path ahead of them as Chet and Claire walked to the clearing where Harrie practiced.
“This drought is really getting serious,” Chet said as he gazed up at the thick branches above his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the forest this dry.”
“I know the Forest Service talked about banning campfires.” Claire followed his gaze and watched a squirrel scamper along a branch and leap into space, to land neatly on another branch, which dipped and swayed beneath the furry weight.
“So they should. Can you imagine what would happen if a fire got a hold in this forest? It would be worse than anything anyone’s seen in decades. Worse than the Tillamook Burn, they reckon. If the wind caught the fire and whipped it around those hills, I wouldn’t want to be within ten miles of it, I can tell you. Those suckers can really move.”
Claire shuddered. “I hate the thought of it. All that destruction, the helpless animals trapped in the flames...”
“Not to mention the fire fighters who have to risk their lives trying to put it out.” Chet shook his head. “If only people realized just how catastrophic a wildfire can be, how easily it can get out of control, they might be more careful about what they’re doing in the forest. Let’s just hope to God we don’t get one here.”
“I’ll second that.” In the distance, Claire heard a faint thud. Harrie wasn’t too far away. Lifting her chin, Claire yelled, “Harrie! Harrie! It’s time to go!”
Chet jumped and sent her a startled look.
“Sorry,” she said, praying Harrie had heard her. “I just thought it would save looking for her.”
To her relief, Harrie’s voice floated back. “I’m coming....”
Seconds later she darted through the trees, hair flying behind her, face flushed and eyes sparkling. She stopped dead when she saw Chet and flashed an anxious look at Claire.
She was empty-handed, Claire saw with relief. “Chet just wanted to say hi,” she said quickly. “I told him we were going on a hike this afternoon.”
“Hi, Harrie, how’s it going?” Chet gave her a friendly wave, and Harrie reluctantly drew closer.
“Fine,” she said, scuffling her feet in the dust.
Claire watched anxiously as Chet chatted some more, drawing out brief responses from Harrie, until finally he glanced at his watch.
“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to enjoy your hike,” he said. “I’m glad it’s you and not me in this heat. You’d better take plenty of liquid refreshment with you.”
“We will,” Claire promised, relieved to see him go.
She waited until he was out of sight around the bend, then turned to Harrie. “I really do think it would be a good idea if you don’t practice with the knives for a while,” she said, hoping the little girl would understand. “Some people might think you could hurt yourself with them, and that would make them think that your daddy and I are not taking proper care of you.”
Harrie pouted. “I don’t like that man. He’s no fun.”
“It’s not all his fault, honey. He’s just trying to make sure you are happy and healthy, that’s all.”
“Well, I wouldn’t hurt myself with the knives. I haven’t yet and I’m getting real good at throwing them.”
Claire put an arm around the tense shoulders. “I know that, Harrie. But just the same, perhaps we can find something else to do, just for a while, until your daddy gets things settled with the CSD, okay?”
Harrie squinted up at her. “What’s the CSD?”
“It’s the Children’s Services Division. They’re the people who want to make sure you are being taken care of.”
“I don’t like them, either,” Harrie said, darting ahead down the path. “And they can’t tell me what to do. Only my daddy tells me.”
She stopped and looked back at Claire. “And you...I don’t care if you tell me.”
Claire smiled, though her heart ached. What would happen to the child if the Bridgemonts won the case? It would break Harrie’s heart. And Turner’s, too.
As for her own heart, she thought sadly as she followed Harrie back to the cabin, it was already breaking. Sooner or later she would have to leave, and already the thought of it threatened to destroy her.
Chapter 7
Claire enjoyed the hike with Harrie to Hunter’s Ridge. She was particularly intrigued by the hiding places Harrie showed her, especially the deep cleft in the hillside, which Harrie called the bat cave.
The opening looked too narrow for the average adult, but Harrie slipped through the gap quite easily. “You can’t come in here,” she told Claire, her voice sounding hollow from inside the cave.
“I’m not sure I could get in there,” Claire told her, eyeing the slim opening.
“You wouldn’t like it, anyway,” Harrie said, crawling out again. “It’s full of bats. That’s why I call it the bat cave.”
Suppressing a shudder, Claire suggested they sit on a flat rock overlooking the river and enjoy the apples and cheese she’d brought along.
“I like it up here,” Harrie said, gazing out over the dark green forest below. “It mak
es me feel like a bird.”
Claire smiled. “As long as you don’t try flying.”
“I wish I could fly.”
The forlorn note in Harrie’s voice touched Claire’s heart. “You sound sad about something,” she said, hoping the little girl would confide in her.
Harrie leaned forward and plucked a fat blade of grass. “I sometimes think it would be nice to have a sister to play with.”
Again Claire felt the tug at her heart. “I thought you said that kids weren’t fun to play with,” she said, gently teasing in the hope of raising a smile.
“Sisters are different.” Harrie fitted the grass between her two thumbs and blew. The explosive sound startled a couple of jays, who protested with shrill shrieks as they flew away. Harrie watched them until they were out of sight.
It worried Claire to think of Harrie coming all that way alone. She hadn’t realized it was quite so far. She reminded herself to tell Turner, though she felt bad about betraying Harrie’s “secret.”
“You must get very lonely up here all by yourself,” she said. “Perhaps it might be better if you don’t come up here alone anymore.”
Harrie looked up sharply. “I like coming up here. And I like being by myself.”
“I know you do, honey, but you said yourself that your daddy doesn’t know where you are. He’d be very upset if he knew you were disobeying him. And if Chet Warren ever found out you were up here all by yourself, it could mean you’d have to go and live with your grandparents. And I don’t think you would like that.”
“I’d run away and come back up here to live all by myself.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Claire began packing up the remains of their snack. “What would you eat?”
Harrie shrugged. “Dunno. Stuff from the grocery store, I guess.”
“You wouldn’t be able to buy anything without money.”
“I’d eat berries and stuff, like the birds do.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to stay closer to home, like you’re supposed to, and come and visit up here when you have someone with you? We had fun today, didn’t we?”
Harrie nodded. “I don’t know anyone except you and Daddy.”
“You know the people on the Landing,” Claire said, clutching at straws to strengthen her argument.
“I wouldn’t ask them to come up here. They’re too old. Or too mean, like Mr. Newberg.” She scowled, digging the toe of her sneaker in the grass. “If he ever came up here I’d push him off so that he rolled all the way down to the bottom again.”
“Harrie! That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“He’s so mean,” Harrie said, screwing her eyes nearly closed to look up at Claire. “He chased me out of the shop one day, and he was yelling at me.”
“Why did he do that?”
“I was looking at some of the stuff he has in boxes in the back room. I wanted to buy something special for Daddy for his birthday. I bought him a present for Father’s Day there and he really liked it.”
“I think Mr. Newberg just isn’t used to having children around,” Claire said, climbing to her feet. “He’s afraid you might hurt something.”
“He hates kids.” Harrie leapt up and started down the hill. “And I hate him,” she called back over her shoulder.
Sighing, Claire hurried to catch up with her. She still hadn’t received a promise from Harrie to stay closer to home. In any case, she would have to tell Turner and let him handle it. Even if Harrie got mad at her.
By the time they got back to the cabin, Claire felt as if she’d tramped across the Sahara Desert. Even Harrie looked tired. She slumped down in an armchair for a while, then said she was going to take a book outside and read a bit, until her father got home.
Glancing at the clock, Claire saw it would be at least another hour before Turner was due back. The thought of a cool, refreshing shower was too enticing to ignore.
Hoping he wouldn’t mind, she looked in his bedroom closet and found a light cotton robe. She slipped out of her clothes, then pulled on the robe. It took her only a couple of minutes to rinse out her shorts, shirt and underwear and throw them into the dryer.
By the time she’d washed and dried her hair, her clothes would be dry enough to put on. It would save her driving home in that mess, she told herself as she stepped under the cool rush of water. She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she was more concerned than she should be about Turner seeing her in that disheveled state.
Feeling a hundred percent better after the shower, she wrapped a towel around her body, then hunted for Turner’s blow dryer. The fierce buzz when she switched it on sounded much louder than her own dryer.
Directing the rush of hot air onto her head, she tipped her head forward. Within a few minutes her hair was dry enough to comb, and she switched off the dryer.
A second later in the silence that followed, a deep voice muttered, “God.”
The dryer fell with a clatter to the counter as Claire jerked her head around.
Turner stood in the doorway of the bathroom, and the expression on his face would have been comical, had it not been for the fire in his eyes. Very slowly he dropped his gaze to her bare legs.
Heat chased chills down her back and automatically she clasped the knot between her breasts. The towel barely skimmed the top of her thighs, and that’s where Turner’s gaze lingered.
Her insides felt like a butter churn. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound at all like her own.
“So I figured.” He moved his gaze back up to her face, searing her flesh all the way.
She couldn’t breathe again. “I didn’t expect you home for another hour.”
“I left early.” He seemed to be making an effort to keep his gaze on her face.
“My clothes are in the dryer,” she said a little desperately.
“I’ll send Harrie in with them.”
“Thank you.”
For long seconds they stared at each other, while the space between them seemed to hum with electricity. The vivid memory of his mouth on hers, his body hard for her, almost brought a moan to her lips.
Then, very slowly, he backed away and closed the door, leaving her to sag against the counter and stare ruefully at her flaming face.
Harrie tapped on the door a few minutes later. Taking the clothes from her, Claire thanked her.
“Daddy says that you should cook dinner tonight, ‘cuz you used his shower,” Harrie said, trying unsuccessfully to look serious. She leaned forward and whispered, “He was smiling when he said it, though.”
She just bet he was, Claire thought, wondering if she’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. “Tell him I wasn’t planning on staying for dinner.” Right now, the sensuous way her body was sending signals to her brain, the best thing she could do was go straight home.
Harrie pouted. “I want you to stay for dinner.”
“This is getting to be a habit,” Claire said with a sigh. Still, she did have a couple of important things to discuss with him, neither of which she wanted to talk about in front of Harrie. After Harrie had gone to bed would be a good opportunity to do it. And judging by the way the little girl was yawning, she wasn’t likely to stay up too late.
“Okay, what was he planning on having for dinner? I hope it’s something I can cook.”
Harrie’s face broke out in a wide grin. “I’ll go ask.”
“I’ll be there in a minute, as soon as I’m dressed,” Claire promised.
Turner was in the kitchen when she emerged from the bathroom. She could hear him talking to Harrie. She took a moment to return his robe to the closet, then, feeling like a teenager on her first date, she walked down the passageway to the kitchen.
To her relief, Turner had apparently decided to quit his teasing. “I’ve lit the barbecue,” he told her, “so you’re off the hook. I’m cooking chicken, but there’s salad and corn, if you feel like helping out.”
Avo
iding his gaze, she said cheerfully, “Sure. And Harrie can set the table.”
Harrie obediently went to the cutlery drawer and started sorting out knives. After a moment Turner left the kitchen with a plate of chicken pieces, and Claire felt her shoulders relax. Things were getting too tense for comfort, she thought as she began to wash the lettuce under the faucet. The sooner Turner got himself a housekeeper, the better.
Even while she thought it, her spirits plummeted. She was going to miss all this. She would miss being with Harrie all the time. She would miss the teasing, the laughing, the earnest discussions and the silly banter over the dinner table.
But most of all she would miss Turner’s light blue gaze on her, and the warmth of his smile. She would miss the excitement of being close to him, the thrill she felt every time he said something in that slow, husky voice that sent shivers down her spine.
Yes, she thought sadly, it was definitely time he found a housekeeper and let her get on with her life.
She tackled the subject as soon as he came back out of Harrie’s bedroom after saying good-night to his daughter. Dusk had darkened the shadows outside, and the warm glow of the lamps softened the room.
She had poured him a cup of coffee, and she watched him settle into his favorite armchair and lift the cup to his lips. He had an incredibly sensual mouth. She could still feel the pressure of it on hers.
“Turner,” she said as pain sneaked around her heart, “have you had any luck with the ads for a housekeeper?”
He gave her a swift glance, then looked away again. “Not yet. I’m sorry. I know this is holding you up. But the ad comes out again tomorrow, so maybe we’ll hear something then.”
She nodded, feeling the heavy depression settling low in her stomach again. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I didn’t want to say anything earlier in front of Harrie, but Mrs. Bridgemont is suing for custody.”
His hand stopped, the cup poised in midair. “She won’t win,” he said flatly.
“I think you need to get a lawyer, Turner.”
He cursed and set the cup down hard on the table.
She felt awkward, knowing what she wanted to say, but not knowing how to say it. “Turner, I know lawyers are expensive. But I don’t think you can afford not to have one. I have some money put away...for the business. I don’t need it yet...if you want to borrow...” Her voice faded away as he looked at her with an expression she couldn’t analyze.
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