Libby stared, horror washing the numbness away. “So Frey really did tamper with the plane.”
“It looks that way to me, yes.”
Libby stared down at the surface of the lake. “Can we prove that after you bring it up?”
“Raising the wreckage is going to be a tough job because the fuselage is loaded with silt. My ship’s probably in port by now. I’ll file for salvage rights first thing tomorrow morning and start ferrying the equipment we’ll need out here. No telling how long the paperwork will take, sometimes only a few days. If Frey puts up a stink we could have a fight on our hands, but it’s one fight Frey won’t win. No state or federal court in this country would deny your claim to that plane once the DNA testing proves you’re Connor Libby’s daughter, and once Frey knows we’ve located the pilot’s remains he may just give up. At any rate, we’ll pay the state the fee they demand for the plane, and after we raise it we’ll have it airlifted to Anchorage. The FAA will send investigators but even if they verify everything I just told you, that doesn’t mean Frey’s going to be convicted of tampering with the plane. There’s no way to prove he did it.”
“But, he’s the only one who lived here at the time, and the only one with motive, and Solly saw him drag the pontoons to the outlet!” Libby said.
“You and I know Frey’s guilty and Solly can testify about what he saw the day it crashed, but convincing the rest of the world might not be so easy. Frey didn’t exactly strike me as the kind of man who would confess any of his past transgressions.”
Libby raised one hand to her aching temple while the other closed around her mother’s wedding band, which hung from the leather thong around her neck. “For twenty-eight years I’ve been moving toward this moment, and now that I’ve reached it I don’t even know how I feel. I guess I’m just overwhelmed.”
Carson reached across the boat to give her shoulder a squeeze. “I think we could both use a good stiff drink. I have a bottle of sipping whiskey in my gear. Talisker, made on the Isle of Skye. Good stuff. What do you say we head back to camp, warm you up by the campfire, and break into it?”
Libby regarded him for a long, steady moment, then nodded. “I’d like that very much.”
CARSON HAD LONG SINCE discovered that the distance between a man and woman could be measured in light-years and had long since given up trying to bridge that mysterious gap. But right now, sitting in front of the tent and across the campfire from Libby, none of that stuff mattered. All that mattered was the moment, because he knew that these final hours were all he would ever have with her. She was wrapped in a wool Hudson Bay blanket he’d brought out of the tent, her hair was still wet, and she was still shivering a little with a combination of cold and shock, but to him she had never looked more beautiful.
He poured the whiskey into two clean but battered tin cups and held one out. Her hand trembled as she took it, and her eyes were wide and dark and slightly unfocused, dazed by everything that had happened, but she managed a small smile and a quiet, “Thank you.”
He lifted his own cup. “To your father. May his bones talk loud and clear.”
“To my father.” She raised her cup to his, then took a sip, blinked her eyes and coughed. “Wow.”
“Powerful stuff for a powerful moment.”
The sun was setting and the air was cooling off as twilight stretched blue fingers into the forested campsite. A hamper of food had been waiting for them when they’d returned, compliments of Karen, but Libby shook her head when Carson offered the basket to her. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” She stared into the flames of the fire, cradling the tin cup of whiskey on her updrawn knees for a long, contemplative moment before taking another tiny swallow. “Well, you did it. You found the plane, just like you said you would.”
“With Solly’s help.”
“You’d have found it eventually.” She raised her eyes and held his gaze. “Thank you.”
“What’ll you do now?” he asked after she’d dropped her eyes from his to stare back into the fire, making it easier for him to breathe.
“Call my mother and let her know we found the plane, send the bone you found off to the best forensics lab in the country and then stay on here and help Karen out at the lodge while you bring the wreckage up.”
“You’ll keep on cleaning rooms?”
She managed a half laugh. “And scrubbing toilets. It’ll keep me occupied, and she needs the help. Besides, I like that little cabin and I love the food.” Those blue eyes fixed on his yet again. “How long do you think it will take to get the plane up?”
Carson shrugged. “Depends. I’m thinking it’s in good shape, and it’s worth taking some time to bring it up in the best condition we can, especially if you’re gunning for Frey, and from what I’ve already seen, your instincts were right about him. I’m guessing a month at the outside. Maybe less, if I can get a full crew in here. And if I can’t, maybe I could sign you up. You seemed pretty anxious to do some diving today.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not. I think you’re gutsy as hell.”
She set her cup down, rose abruptly and walked to the edge of the lake. She stood there for so long in stillness and absolute silence, wrapped in the blanket and watching the sun set, that Carson tossed off the remainder of his whiskey, pushed to his feet and joined her. He was dumbstruck to see tears streaming down her cheeks. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her near. He couldn’t think of anything to say to ease what she was going through, but he became aware, when she looked up at him, that all those light-years between a man and a woman could be spanned with just a touch.
“Just hold me for a little while, Carson,” she said in a shaky voice, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to oblige her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, laying her head against his chest and wrapping her own arms around his waist. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”
Ah, the pain. This time it wasn’t his leg, it wasn’t his lung and it wasn’t his beat-up body. It was his heart. He held her in his arms and breathed the sweet vulnerability of her and felt the agony of a body that fought for control but was rapidly losing the battle. She was just too damn close and too damn desirable. He knew he should put some distance between them before he embarrassed the both of them, but he didn’t know how. “You have a right to be emotional,” he managed. “You finally have what you need to prove that you’re Connor Libby’s daughter. This is the turning point of your life.”
Her arms tightened around him, pulling their bodies closer together, and he practically groaned aloud. “That’s just it,” she said. “I thought I’d feel different. I thought it would make everything right, but now I realize it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.”
In spite of his increasing agonies he was baffled by her words. She was about to become the rightful heiress to the Libby fortune, and that wasn’t enough? Good God, what more could she possibly want? Once again Carson didn’t know what to say. He seemed to excel in long silences. He thought she’d pull away when she realized what she was doing to him, he thought she’d open up those light-years of distance between them, but she didn’t. Instead, she lifted her head and gazed up at him, and then, to his absolute amazement, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. Her kiss was tender, sweet and sensual, and there was absolutely no mistaking her intent. The electrical jolt that passed through him as her lips first touched his only intensified as he did the only thing he could do. He kissed her back. He wanted to ask her what it was she really wanted, but he couldn’t, because after that first kiss he was breathless. They both were.
And, as it turned out, no further words were necessary.
THE SUN, WHEN IT ROSE over the Brooks Range, sent long streamers of light into the clearing. Libby woke only when the heat inside the canvas wall tent became too intense. She opened her eyes and lay for a moment before reaching over to Carson but her hand encountered nothing but empty space. He was gone. Startled, she sat up and saw that th
e sleeping bag and blanket they’d shared were now hers alone, and there was a note pinned to the door flap. She unpinned it and read the masculine scrawl.
I’ve gone to pick up the crew, file the salvage papers and get some necessary gear. Check out the bear tracks on the shore. Back by supper. Carson.
Libby dressed in haste, unable to believe he’d taken off in the Otter and she hadn’t heard a thing, but when she padded barefoot to the cove she saw that the plane was indeed gone. His note had been so impersonal after such an intimate night that at first her feelings were hurt. But then, as she pulled on her socks and sneakers, she realized he was just being Carson. She would never have guessed that the search for her father’s plane would have led to her falling in love with a man like Carson Dodge, but she knew her life would never be the same.
When he guided her into the dimness of his tent she was barely aware of the masculine world surrounding her, the smell of canvas and leather, gun steel and wood smoke. She was focused only on the man whose kisses were so passionate and whose expert touch made her cry his name aloud.
And finally, just before the dawn, as their mutual exhaustion lulled them into deep sleep, Libby came to understand that without Carson, and without the love that he alone could give her, nothing would ever be enough. Not the Libby fortune, and not the Libby name.
Nothing would ever be enough without Carson.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“WE FOUND THE PLANE, MOM.”
The words sounded strange, even to Libby. She could only wonder how her mother must feel, hearing them spoken aloud. She huddled in the chair beside the phone and was glad that it was so early nobody else was up in the lodge, except for Karen.
“Libby!” Marie’s voice was choked with emotion. “Are you all right? When you didn’t come home yesterday, and didn’t call…”
“I’m sorry. I really am. Are you okay?”
“You found the plane?”
“Yes, and everything I needed to prove that Connor Libby was my father.”
“And so,” Marie said. “Now, will you come home?”
“Soon,” Libby promised. “Very soon.” She paused, hand tightening on the phone. “Mom? I have your wedding ring. It’s beautiful.”
The silence lasted so long that Libby wondered if her mother had heard, but then Marie said quietly, “I know how beautiful it is. I’ve worn that ring in my heart all these years.”
KAREN WAS A ROCK IN the chaotic days that followed, as Carson ferried his crew and gear into Evening Lake. Libby leaned on her quiet strength, and tried to repay all her kindnesses by helping out as much as she could, but her heart was in such pain she wondered if anything she did at the lodge was even remotely helpful. All she could think about was Carson, all she wanted was to be near him, but he was now completely focused on the salvage project, surrounded by his crew, unreachable, untouchable, and what hurt the most was that he didn’t seem to notice the agony she was in.
Finding the plane had been a tremendous victory. She was on the verge of proving her paternity, something she’d dreamed of doing all of her life, and yet she was miserable. She wanted Carson to touch her the way he’d touched her that night, to have him hold her in his arms, to have him kiss her and make her feel as if she were the sole reason he lived and breathed. She wanted him desperately, but he worked nonstop, rain or shine, eighteen-hour days, using every minute of daylight. His crew was always around him. Nice guys, wonderful guys, but their constant presence made a private conversation with Carson impossible.
Daniel Frey had not returned to the lodge after the wardens flew him to Fairbanks, nor had he tried to block the purchase of the salvage rights. The most Libby could find out was that he was staying in private accommodations in town, in order to be closer to the hospital while his heart medications were being adjusted. Libby believed he was just readying himself to flee the country when the wreckage was raised and then inspected by the FAA and the truth of his tampering was revealed.
Solly had given his statements to the proper officials and had recovered completely from his bout of pneumonia. Marie was feeling good and looking much improved. She’d come out to the lake the day Libby had called her to spend an afternoon at the lodge, and ended up staying on with Luanne and Libby in the cook’s cabin.
And then, suddenly, after two and a half weeks, the salvage operation was over. The remains of her father had been recovered and sent to the medical examiner in Anchorage. Half of Carson’s crew had already left on the huge chopper that had airlifted the plane to Anchorage for FAA inspection and ultimate restoration and the others were up at the lodge, wowing Karen with stories of daring, high-risk salvage operations and eating yet another delicious meal while Carson packed up gear and cleaned the campsite. Libby took advantage of the fact that he was finally alone and walked down the shore in the light drizzle, wondering what she would say, wondering what he would say, wondering if this was going to be a final goodbye.
But how could it be, after that night she’d spent with him? The heat from that encounter had sizzled between them throughout the long process of bringing the Beaver to the surface of the lake, and though no other shared intimacy had been possible, just a glance or the touch of a hand had been enough to keep the fires smoldering. Or maybe the fires had only smoldered in her. Libby had to accept the fact that the encounter had no doubt meant a great deal more to her than it had to him. He was, after all, the kind of guy who had a girl in every port. But still, how could they possibly say a forever goodbye after all they’d shared?
He spotted her coming and stopped in the process of cramming his sleeping bag into the stuff sack. “Well, I guess this is it,” he said.
“I guess so.” Libby glanced around the campsite to avoid looking at him. “I won’t be able to pay you for a while. I don’t exactly have a hundred and fifty grand in my savings account. Not yet, anyway. It could take a while for the DNA testing to be completed, and even longer for the legal paperwork.”
He tossed the sleeping bag into a pile of gear that was waiting to be loaded onto the plane. “I’m not worried. I know you’re good for it.”
“I have your retainer fee. Well, almost all of it. Some of it got used up flying myself out here and some other stuff and…” Libby pulled the crumpled envelope out of her pocket. “It’s only four thousand, but I’ll add the other thousand to the salvage fee. I’m sorry it took me so long to come up with it and I promise you’ll get the rest. I’ll let you know as soon as the lab contacts me with the DNA results.”
He took the envelope from her and without even glancing at it he shoved it in his pocket. His eyes held hers. “Like I said, I’m not worried.”
“What will you do now?”
He shrugged. “Get started on the next job. I guess that’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore, now that you’re about to become an heiress.”
She felt a flush of anger and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “I have no intention of changing my lifestyle.” Then, realizing how sharply she’d spoken, she added, in a softer tone, “This has been quite a journey.”
“Yeah,” he said, still holding her gaze. “For me, too.”
“I just wanted to thank you for everything. I mean, I’m almost sorry the job’s over, but I know you have other jobs to get to and…” Libby felt the heat in her face intensify. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that, after all that’s happened, I…I’ve become very…fond of you.” She stumbled over the words, wishing she had the courage to tell him how she really felt about him, but not daring to make a fool out of herself. She just couldn’t face listening to him explain, in a careful and considerate way, that while he’d enjoyed their time together and liked her very much, he was a busy man with no time for long-term relationships. He would break her heart so badly she’d never be able to piece it together again.
“Fond.” He regarded her thoughtfully, then his eye shifted over her shoulder, and she turned to see his crew walking around the point toward them. They
were a great bunch of guys, especially Trig, but their timing was incredibly lousy.
“Fond,” he muttered. “Tell me something, Dr. Libby. Does being very fond of someone merit a goodbye kiss?” Before she could respond he closed the distance between them, gripped her shoulders, ignored her shamelessly offered lips and kissed her on the cheek with no hint whatsoever of the intimacy they’d shared. He released her and stepped away as his crew arrived, leaving her breathless and humiliated and burning for him to kiss her the way he must know she was yearning to be kissed. “I hope things work out for you, Libby,” he said just before he left. “I really do.”
EPILOGUE
LIBBY’S FLIGHT from Boston was scheduled to arrive in Anchorage at 5:00 p.m. and had taken most of the day, with an endless layover at Chicago O’Hare. She was anxious to get back. It felt as if she’d been gone for months, though after the DNA results were finally proved out, the legal paperwork and endless meetings with the lawyers had taken less than three weeks. Being the exciting new toast of the Libby Foundation had whirled her into an exhausting social scene, and Libby was actually looking forward to Marie’s suggestion to spend some time in Umiak, to stay until the arctic winter swept down from the pole and froze the river in its tracks.
But first she had to settle things with Carson, with whom she hadn’t spoken since that gray dreary August morning on Evening Lake, when the salvage of her father’s de Havilland Beaver was finished. He’d gone back to his other women, no doubt, and Libby had gone to Umiak and stayed with her mother for most of a month before flying East when official confirmation of her paternity came from the country’s top forensics lab in Washington, D.C. She’d hoped that Carson would call, but how would he know where she was, or how to get hold of her? Nor could she call him, because until she actually had the hundred and fifty thousand she’d promised him in her hand, what would she say? He’d given no indication that he wanted any sort of lasting relationship with her. On the contrary. He had just given her a chaste, impersonal goodbye and flown away.
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