by J. S. Marlo
Vaguely recalling an early morning kiss, she rolled over in bed to see if Ollie had left for work. The pillow next to her was empty. “He’s gone. Did you need to talk to him?”
“Yes and no. Remember I told you about Professor Stefansson and the third-year students he takes on a geological expedition every summer?”
As a second-year student, her daughter wasn’t eligible for the trip. But if Riley recalled correctly, he was also the professor who had helped Rowan secure a part-time job as a lab assistant. “Kind of. Why?”
“I’m leaving on Saturday morning.”
Her daughter’s shrieks of excitement chased the last vestige of sleep from her mind. “Saturday? For where?” A part of the conversation had slipped right by her. “I’m confused.”
“In two days, I’ll be in Iceland studying volcanoes, hot springs, and geysers. Isn’t that awesome?”
“In Iceland?” While she pictured her daughter bouncing up and down like a rubber ball, Riley tensed like an overextended elastic band as images of bubbling lava and smoldering ashes filled her head. “Don’t they have active volcanoes over there?”
The phone line resonated with gleeful laughter. “That’s why Iceland is a geologist’s paradise. But you have nothing to worry about, Mom. We study the volcanoes from a safe distance.”
Of her two children, Rowan was the one who resembled her father the most. She’d inherited his adventurous spirit and fearless attitude.
“I’m thrilled for you, Ro.” Her daughter wanted to become a geologist, and she was on the right path to fulfill her dreams. Riley couldn’t have been prouder. “How did it happen?”
“I was at a study session last night when one of the students came to see Professor Stefansson. She had passport problems—I’m not sure what kind of problems, but she couldn’t fly out. The professor asked if anyone wanted to take her spot. There were maybe twenty of us in there. I think we all raised our hands, and guess what?”
“He picked you?”
An ear-splitting yes reverberated in the handset.
Riley flinched and moved the phone away from her ear. “But you’re a second-year student,” she managed to articulate, the loud screech still ringing in her head.
“We were all second-year students, but with my 4.0 GPA and the third-year classes I took this semester, Professor Stefansson thought I was the best candidate. He sent me an e-mail this morning, confirming my selection.”
Her motherly opinion might be biased, but she agreed with Stefansson. “I’m glad he chose you.”
“Thank you, Mom. I’m sorry I woke you, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. Tomorrow is Friday, and I have my last exam in the morning. You think you and Dad could drive to see me in the afternoon before I leave for three months?”
***
Hidden in the shadow of a dumpster, with fingers twitching in sheer anticipation, Sam waited for the attendant to leave.
On Fridays, Luther’s Gas Station closed at midnight. The old coot who had bought the station should never have renamed it Luther’s. With its heavenly ice cream counter, Corner Rose Gas Station rang so much better. At the memory of Rose’s homemade strawberry ice cream, saliva dribbled from Sam’s mouth.
The backpack that Sam had discarded against the dumpster concealed a few useful items. Among them were a container of paint thinner and a box of waterproof matches, the kind that ignited against any surface. Killing wasn’t on the agenda, but if the attendant didn’t hurry, Sam might run out of patience and decide to turn the unsuspecting clerk into ashes.
The roar of an engine pierced the darkness. Eager to set the planned fire, Sam peeped over the dumpster lid. A car raced toward the station. In the midst of screeching tires, the pale convertible came to an abrupt stop on the concrete pavement between the gas pumps and the store.
Idiot. A few more inches to the left, and the stupid driver would have hit a pump, setting off an explosion and stealing the glory of the blast.
Inside the store, the attendant turned off the lights before walking out. The driver of the convertible leaned across the front seat and pushed the passenger door open. As soon as the attendant jumped inside, the stupid driver spun his wheels and took off.
Once the car disappeared into the night, Sam pulled a flashlight from the backpack and approached the station.
Tonight, Sam wanted to make a big boom and see a giant fireball leap into the air, illuminating the county.
***
Inside Ollie’s truck, Riley clasped her purse to her chest.
They’d spent Friday with Rowan and stayed with her for the night in a nice hotel before driving her to the Calgary International Airport early that morning.
The dull ache clutching her heart since her daughter boarded the Icelandair flight showed no sign of abating. The radiant smile on Rowan’s face had outshone the tears in her eyes when she’d bid them farewell, but still, letting her baby fly away had been harder than Riley had expected.
Ollie’s right hand traveled from the steering wheel to her forearm. “You’re not worried, are you?”
Of course she was. “What do you think?”
Ollie’s laughter didn’t make her feel any better. “She’ll be fine, and she’ll have a great time.”
“I know. It’s just…” She sighed. Her children had grown up too fast, and she missed not having little kids. “Iceland is so far away.”
“It’s only a flight away, Ken.” He sought her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Would some chocolate ice cream cheer you up?”
Chocolate was her weakness, and her husband liked using it to his advantage.
“Do we have time?”
In the airport parking lot, he’d received a call. A gas station less than eight kilometers from the ranch had burst into flames, and Ollie had been ordered back to the station.
“The ashes won’t blow in the wind if I’m fifteen minutes late.”
“Okay then. I need a double scoop with extra chocolate.”
They stopped at a dairy counter and ate their treat on a picnic table overlooking an elk farm. The herd was in the field, grazing, while she licked the melted chocolate that had leaked onto her fingers.
As much as she enjoyed the treat, it didn’t fill the void created by her daughter’s departure. Once they finished eating, they drove back to the ranch where Ollie dropped her off before heading to the scene of the fire.
Alone in her empty house, Riley wandered from room to room. She needed to get a grip on her feelings and stop worrying about Rowan. Iceland wasn’t at the end of the world, not literally, and from what she’d read, it was a safe place for young people to venture. Besides, her daughter was nineteen, a resourceful grown woman, and she wasn’t alone. No harm would come to her. And before she knew it, August would show its cooler days, and Rowan would fly home.
But that was three months down the road…three long months.
Inner peace eluded her, but there was one place where Riley could draw the strength to carry on. She entered her bedroom and slipped into an old pair of jeans before heading for the stable.
Willow, her favorite mare, paced her stall. An unborn foal bulged her sides, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her black coat. The vet had come every three hours during their absence to check on her, but the baby had yet to be born.
“Come here, Willow.” The mare ignored Riley’s command. “Okay. I won’t disturb you, but I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours.” The mare had successfully foaled twice in the last five years, so Riley wasn’t overly concerned about this pregnancy.
She saddled Sweetness, her son’s even-tempered mare, attached a rifle to her flank, and rode through the woods to the northern limit of the acreage.
The grassy path passed through an open meadow overlooking the valley before entering an old deciduous forest. The canopy of trees provided shade from the sun and shelter from the wind.
As she rode deeper into the wilderness, she hit a trail that followed the edge of a ravine before it swung
into a clearing where an abandoned shack stood among rotting logs.
This part of the forest was her refuge, and the serenity she’d sought enveloped her.
A branch cracked nearby. Sweetness’s ears twitched, but she remained calm. Then a twig snapped behind the shack. “Is someone there?”
With one hand on the butt of her rifle, Riley guided Sweetness around the dilapidated shack where the bushes rustled under a broken window.
A squirrel chirped, its tan coat visible between the branches. “Hello, little fellow.”
The rodent scampered along the shack, a nut between its jaws. He climbed over one of the small headstones standing on the outskirts of the clearing, dodged the lamb adorning the second one, and then entered the woods.
She dismounted and tied the mare to a branch before strolling to where the squirrel had disappeared. Wild flowers grew around Nathaniel’s and Trevor’s headstones. Kneeling on one knee over her sons’ graves, she brushed their names with the tip of her fingers. The gothic letters, like her love, had weathered the test of time.
“Rowan needs a guardian angel. Please keep an eye on her.”
Chapter Five
On Monday morning, Riley boarded an early flight to Winnipeg.
Upon arriving in the Winnipeg terminal, she immediately noticed Blythe standing against a column near the money exchange booth with two cups in his hands. Baffled by his presence, she looked around for someone else he might be waiting for, but his gaze seemed focused on her.
She collected her luggage from the carousel then joined him. “You’re not here for me, are you?”
“Your mother never taught you to start your morning greeting with hello? Like in, Hello, Hux?”
“Hello, Blythe.” If only she could convey his sense of humor over to his television persona. “Isn’t it too early in the day for you to be late for work again?”
“Very funny. I don’t show up until nine on Mondays.” He presented her with the larger cup. “Coffee?”
“Thank you.” The rich taste and aroma emanating from the cup delighted her senses. She took a sip. “This is perfect.”
“I aim to please. How was your flight?” He looked her up and down. “No blood? Did you avoid flying briefcases?”
“Keep that up,” she teased, “and you’ll owe me more than a coffee.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes as he motioned toward the exit. “What about dinner tonight?”
“Dinner?” The invitation took her by surprise. It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed their evening at Casa Grigia, but she didn’t want him to feel obligated to entertain her. “Why don’t you ask me again at the end of the day?” She followed him outside. “If I can keep my eyes open, I’ll say yes.”
“Rough weekend?”
“Eventful.” In the wee hours of the morning, Willow’s foal had been born in the breech position, and Riley never got to go to bed before heading for the airport. “We welcomed a new foal last night.”
“You breed horses?”
“Not routinely. This one was more like an accident.” Ollie hadn’t realized the fence was damaged until a neighbor called to say he’d found Willow grazing in his pasture. “Our mare befriended the neighbor’s stallion behind our backs.”
Potholes littered the parking lot, and as she walked beside him, she tried to avoid them.
“Did the neighbor ask for shared custody?”
The witty remark caught her off guard, and she couldn’t bite back her laughter. This lighthearted side of his personality was endearing, and when she looked at him, there was a peacefulness to his expression that hadn’t been there a week ago. A part of her was tempted to ask if his wife had regained consciousness, but not wanting to dampen his mood, she refrained.
“No custody battle, though Oliver did promise to help clear a section of the neighbor’s land this summer.”
“Sounds like a good deal.”
“Not a bad one.” Ollie hadn’t told their son, yet, that his presence would be required for a week of hard labor. Hunter might not see the deal in the same light.
The breeze carried the fresh smell of upcoming rain. As they reached his car, the black clouds hanging over their heads released the first drops. “I’ll take your suitcase. You get inside.”
The trunk popped at the same time her door unlocked. She settled herself into the plush seat and blew on her still steaming coffee. A thump reverberated inside the car when Blythe placed her suitcase at the back. A moment later, he joined her and turned on the engine. The radio came to life, and an old rock and roll song played.
On the plane, the screams of the toddler behind her had prevented her from catching a nap. Physically exhausted, she leaned back in her seat.
The rain pounding on the roof of the car blended with the swooshing of the wiper blades and the lively beat of the music. For the first time in the last twelve hours, she was able to relax. Her eyes closed, and she drifted to sleep.
***
Riley didn’t know what shocked her more when she entered Andy’s office, Paul’s smiling face or the nameplate on the new desk that had replaced the coffee cart.
“Your new digs.”
She looked around for the coffee machine. It’d been relegated to the corner on the other side of the Archive Room.
“Do you like it?” Paul’s friendly disposition unsettled her as much as the new yellow streaks in his dark hair. He should have gotten a haircut instead of highlights.
“It’s…nice.” Under his watchful stare, she inspected her desk and chair for booby traps and childish pranks. No sticky substances or crawling critters on the seat or back cushion of the chair. No missing casters. She sat on it. It rolled on the floor and reclined comfortably.
“Andy wants you to feel at home. If you need anything you’re to let me know.”
Paul had better not hold his breath because she had no intention of begging him for anything. “I’m touched.” Her suspicion not abating, she turned her attention to the objects on the desk. Her name was spelled correctly on the plate. The penholder and the coffee cup were not glued to the surface. The lamp was plugged in and diffused a soft white light. She was a good judge of character, and the idea she might have misjudged Paul bothered her.
The top drawer had a lock on its front. She pulled on the bronze handle. The drawer slid smoothly, and a set of keys was inside.
“You may want to lock up your laptop when you leave the office. You can’t be too careful around here.”
If theft was a problem, taking precautions couldn’t hurt. She continued her exploration and opened the larger bottom drawer. Inside, someone had placed a thin, rectangular box, wrapped in shiny red paper. Surprised by the gift, she picked it up and read the note slipped under the white bow.
Please accept my apologies for last week.
Paul
At a loss for words, she turned her attention to the man lounging in his chair with his hands behind his neck. “I had a bad week.” A predatory glint darkened his eyes. “Am I forgiven?”
“Sure.” The gift aside, she’d liked him better last week. When he was a jerk, she could anticipate his behavior. Today, she couldn’t predict his actions. “But this wasn’t necessary.”
“I beg to differ. Would you open it?”
Afraid it might be a prank, she examined the parcel before cautiously unwrapping it. It was a box of chocolates. Dark chocolates. And dark chocolates were her favorite, but Paul had no way of knowing this, not unless he researched her tastes. She lifted her gaze and gauged him. “That’s…very sweet.”
“I’m glad you like them. Would you have lunch with me today?”
“Lunch?” If he’d given her the chocolate in a bid to secure lunch with her, he might as well ask the store for a refund. “Paul—”
“Good morning, people.”
Her head snapped in the opposite direction toward the door. Andy’s arrival had stopped her from formulating a response.
“Paul, the show’s technical adviser wants
to meet with you in an hour. Riley, you’ll be happy to learn that in today’s shoot, Carson mentions his ex-wife.”
“What about the child?” In an e-mail she’d sent him on Thursday, she’d asked permission to amend Carson’s profile and write off the pregnancy since his son wasn’t mentioned in any script.
“We discussed it. And we decided to kill the boy.”
“What?” Killing the boy wasn’t what she had in mind. “You don’t mean that literally, do you?”
“After leaving Carson, his ex-wife gets an abortion.” Andy pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and dropped them on her desk. “Keep developing the story line.”
“Carson distrusts women because his ex-wife cheated on him, not because she aborted his child.” An abortion would make Carson too bitter, too resentful, and hinder the relationship that Riley wanted to create between him and Vivian.
“But an abortion makes for great drama.” The smirk on Paul’s face advertised his position on the subject.
Suspecting Paul had played an important part in the discussion, from which she’d been excluded, Riley glared at the obnoxious writer. “This isn’t a soap opera.”
“Carson’s wife was pregnant when she left him,” Andy cut in without raising his voice. “It provides an underlying reason as to why Carson ignored regulations to save a pregnant woman in season one.”
She recalled the episode. At the end, Carson had refused to reveal the reasons why he risked his career for a stranger, leaving the viewers guessing. “Would you let me explore other possibilities?”
Rubbing his goatee, Andy studied her for what felt like an eternity. “Give me a better ending by tomorrow morning, and I’ll think about it. But no convenient miscarriage. I’m going on the set.”
Thankful for the extension, Riley focused on the story. She never realized Paul had left for his meeting until his return hours later.
“It stopped raining. We can walk to the restaurant.”