Deep River Promise

by Jackie Ashenden

  Connor glowered even harder, which Damon understood. He’d probably been hoping for a fight and Damon had just denied him one.

  Conscious that Sandy at the tourist information bureau was still fussing around with postcard stands and glancing their way, Damon decided it was time to draw this little scene to a close.

  “Want to see me to the city limits?” He looked at Connor. “Make sure I’m gone?”

  Didn’t you not want to get into anything complicated?

  He wasn’t getting into anything complicated. All he was going to do was give the kid a chance to say his piece to Damon without his mother around, which he clearly wanted to do.

  Connor grasped the lifeline Damon had extended like it was the last life preserver on the Titanic. “Yeah,” he said, his belligerence now more slightly forced, as if he was playing it up for his mother’s benefit. “I think I’ll do that.”

  Astrid frowned at her son, then glanced back at Damon, as if she’d sensed something was going on between them but didn’t know what to make of it.

  “It’s all right, Ms. Mayor.” Damon kept his voice casual. “If he wants to see me off the premises, I’m okay with it.”

  Astrid opened her mouth, shut it again. There was something up with her, Damon could sense it. Her misty-gray eyes had sharpened into steel again, and that bristly energy was sparking around her once more.

  Was it her son’s behavior? Or was it something else?

  “A word, Mr. Fitzgerald,” she said crisply.

  It was obvious she meant without Connor hanging around.

  Damon glanced at the teenager. “Can I have a minute with your mother?”

  Astrid rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. “Really?”

  But Connor, after a second’s obvious shock at being asked, glanced at Astrid, then back at Damon. The look he gave Damon was very much of the touch a hair on her head and I’ll kill you variety. “Yes, you may,” he said magnanimously.

  Damon nodded, acknowledging and accepting the unspoken threat.

  Connor gave him one last narrow look, then turned and strode off over the boardwalk toward the stairs that led to the dock.

  “How nice that someone around here has some authority,” Astrid said dryly.

  The expression on her precise, lovely features was calm, but that bristly energy snapped and crackled around her. She was agitated, that much was obvious.

  “What’s up?” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m really not bothered about Connor’s manners if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.” She glanced in the direction of the dock, where her son had just gone down the steps, then looked back at Damon. Something glittered in her gray eyes that seemed awfully like a plea. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about…” She stopped and glanced around again, as if looking for eavesdroppers. “His father.”

  Well, that cleared up a few questions, even if it generated a few more. Though they were questions he wouldn’t be finding answers to, since he’d be leaving. In about half an hour tops.

  “Noted.” He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “And don’t worry, I won’t mention a word of it to him.”

  Astrid’s gray gaze was unreadable. “Why are you getting him to follow you?”

  “Because it seems like he needs to say something, so I might as well give him a chance to say it.”

  “Why?” The question sounded a little sharp. “What does it matter to you?”

  Damon eyed her in silence for a moment. She sure was protective on her boy’s behalf. Not unexpected given that she was his mother, but there was something else there that he couldn’t put his finger on. An edge to it that seemed slightly out of proportion.

  You can’t get interested. You’re leaving, remember?

  Yeah, he was.

  “Because Cal asked me to check on him,” Damon said mildly. “You said you didn’t need my help, and fair enough. But I think I need to at least give him an opportunity to speak to me if he wants to. Got to at least make an effort when it’s an old friend’s last wish, right?”

  Her gaze was very direct and very cool as she studied him, though what she was looking for he had no idea. But he didn’t miss the crease that appeared between her fair brows. Perhaps she didn’t know what she was looking for either.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “But please don’t say anything to him. I…” She stopped again, her mouth compressing as if to hold something back.

  “You what?”

  But Astrid only shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just…” She waved a hand. “Be careful with him. He’s a good kid.”

  Of course he’d be careful with him. And he found himself wanting to hear what she’d been going to say. Except he didn’t know her well enough to push, and besides, he was leaving. Now.

  “I will,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  She didn’t say anything, only nodded, turning her gaze back on her son who was lounging on the dock. His posture was casual, but he was looking steadily Damon’s way, keeping a beady eye on him.

  The bristly tension in her had eased, but he could still feel it radiating from her. She was worried for her son.

  It made him want to reassure her—he didn’t like it when a woman was distressed—but he wasn’t sure what to say since he didn’t know what she was worried about in the first place.

  So all he said was, “Take care of yourself, Ms. Mayor. Like I said, don’t worry. I’ll try not to corrupt him with my shocking city ways.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “You mean like standing naked on a balcony?” Whatever worry had been in her eyes before had gone. Now, he caught the very distinct glitter of a tease, not to mention a hint of challenge.

  Interest stirred inside him yet again. He did like a challenging woman.

  Don’t be a fool. It’s time to go.

  Yeah, it really was.

  He smiled. “Something like that.”

  Then he walked away, heading over the boardwalk to the stairs, his boots ringing on the worn wooden boards. And he didn’t feel the slightest pang of regret at an opportunity missed. Not at all.

  He went down the stairs to the dock and walked along it toward where Connor stood. The boy watched him approach, determined not to take his eyes off him even for a second.

  “So,” Damon said casually as he came closer to the kid. “Want to show me how people in this town get over the river?”

  Connor eyed him warily. “The ferry.” He jerked his head toward the battered red fishing boat that was moored at the end of the dock. “But you already know that.”

  Didn’t miss a trick, did he?

  “Sure,” Damon said. “Just looking for an icebreaker.”

  Connor’s blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not talking to you. All I’m doing is making sure you leave Deep River without trying anything funny.”

  Damon lifted a shoulder, as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. No one’s forcing you.”

  Keeping things easy and casual was probably going to be the best approach, walking that line between not being a threat and yet not being a pushover either—the immovable object to the unstoppable force. He was good at that.

  Except for that one time the unstoppable force had run right over the top of him, and no amount of being immovable had stopped it from crushing him flat.

  Yeah, he wasn’t going to think of that time.

  Damon turned toward the ferry. “Come on, then.” He didn’t wait, heading on down the dock, hearing the boy’s footsteps clattering after him.

  The guy who handled the ferry crossing—Kevin Anderson, a big man, burly and laconic, whom Damon had had a long chat with in the Moose a night or two ago—gave Damon a nod and grunted when Damon told him he wanted to go across.


  The man couldn’t have been called effusive by any stretch, but Damon noticed the pointed look he gave Connor as the kid climbed on board after Damon.

  “Bit late for the bus, Connor,” Kevin commented. “Your mom know you skipped school?”

  “Yeah.” Connor didn’t look away from the other man’s stare. “Don’t worry, she grounded me. But I’m just making sure this guy”—he nodded at Damon—“gets out of Deep River okay.”

  “Huh.” Kevin glanced at Damon too. “Is that right?”

  “I thought it would be best,” Damon replied, meeting Anderson’s suspicious stare with his own. Letting the other guy know that he had it in hand.

  “We can’t be too careful of strangers,” Connor said. “Mom said it was okay. Not that I need her permission,” he added quickly. “I just want to protect our town.”

  A puzzled look crossed Anderson’s face, but he didn’t question it, only nodded. “Sure, sure. Best you keep an eye on him, then.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry,” Connor assured him. “I will.”

  Damon hid a smile and turned to go stand in the prow and wait.

  The boat turned toward the far side and began to motor across, and sure enough, a couple of seconds later, he felt Connor’s presence at his side, along with a good healthy dose of eau de sweaty teenage boy.

  “I’m not going to jump in and swim back.” Damon gazed at the far bank where the road was and the Deep River airstrip, the mountains towering beyond. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Connor snorted as if that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “As if.”

  A silence fell and Damon let it sit there a moment, the only sounds the rumble of the ferry’s motor, the rush of the river, and the occasional cry of the gulls.

  Then he asked, “Want to tell me what’s got you all riled up?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cos it’s none of your business, that’s why.”

  “Considering it’s me you’re pissed with, that makes it very much my business. I’m also not here to do anything to the town and I think you know that.”

  “I don’t know that.” Connor began kicking the side of the boat with one scuffed sneaker. “All I know about you is that you turned up randomly, suddenly owning the whole town.”

  Ah, so that was part of the issue, was it?

  “If it helps, I don’t actually want to own the whole town.” Damon watched as the boat approached the far bank. “I have responsibilities elsewhere, so Silas is more than welcome to my share.”

  “Sure, that’s what people say when they don’t want other people to know what’s going on.”

  Damon glanced at him. “So what do you think’s going on?”

  The boy’s face was very set and he met Damon’s gaze challengingly. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  Okay, this wasn’t getting him anywhere. Connor was obviously determined to be as prickly as his mother.

  Damon glanced back over the river again. “I get that you don’t like me, and I get that you don’t trust me. And you’ve made it very clear you don’t want to talk to me. But we’re nearly here, so if you’ve got a question, now’s the time to ask it.”

  “I don’t have a question,” Connor muttered. “Why would you think I had a question?”

  “I don’t know,” Damon said dryly. “You tell me.”

  Connor reddened. “I don’t have a question,” he repeated, though this time it sounded like it was more to himself than anything else.

  Damon said nothing, letting the silence occupy another couple of moments. The kid would have to come to it in his own time. The only thing Damon could do was let him have some space to realize that.

  The other side of the river loomed, the mountains pressing in. Flying into Deep River had been a bitch, and it was a good thing that the rain had eased up, because the last thing Damon needed was to run into difficulties flying out.

  “Need a hand tying up?” Damon called back to Kevin, who’d come out of the wheelhouse.

  Kevin nodded.

  But Connor was already moving, going over to where the rope was coiled neatly on the deck, picking it up, and getting himself ready to leap onto the dock.

  Damon watched him. A good kid, Astrid had said, and Damon could see that. The boy’s protectiveness suggested a care for his mother and for his town that went deep. Kevin’s reaction to him too, playing along with Connor’s earnestness without making fun of him, spoke of affection and tolerance.

  And really, for all Connor’s belligerence, who couldn’t warm to a boy looking out for his town? Especially a boy looking out for his mom. Yeah, Damon knew all about that.

  Pity he couldn’t ask the kid about Cal, cut through all the bullshit, but he’d promised Astrid he wouldn’t and he was a man who kept his promises.

  Except the one you made to Cal.

  Technically, he hadn’t promised. Technically, he was just following an instruction.

  Technically, you’re being a dick about not wanting to get involved.

  Damon didn’t like that thought one bit, so he watched Connor instead as the boy grabbed the rope, then leapt with all the agility of a mountain goat onto the dock and tied it around one of the metal moorings with casual competence. It looked like he’d done it a thousand times before.

  A kid whose father had been killed and who may not even know, if what Astrid had said was true. And there was no reason to doubt her. She was the kid’s mother after all.

  Yet Damon had a sneaking suspicion that she was wrong… Perhaps the boy did know.

  Connor stood on the dock, staring at Damon, one blond eyebrow raised in disdainful teenage inquiry.

  Damon sighed, then went over to Kevin, making some attempt to pay the guy. But Kevin simply shook his head, so Damon put his money away, said goodbye, then got off the boat and onto the dock.

  He strode along it in the direction of the tiny airstrip and the small hangar that currently housed Wild Alaska’s two Cessnas.

  Connor clattered along behind him, catching up.

  “Just so you know,” Damon commented without turning, “I’m going to be getting out of here in pretty much the next ten minutes, so your window is limited.”

  “What responsibilities do you have?” Connor asked.

  Ah, so he had been listening, hadn’t he?

  Damon quickly debated how much of the truth to give him. Not all of it, but he could give him something. “I have to go home to take care of my mom. She’s sick.”

  “Oh,” Connor said. “That’s, uh… I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t tell anyone, though, okay? She doesn’t like anyone to know she’s ill.”

  A secret for a secret might help, though there were no guarantees. Wouldn’t hurt for Connor to know that he felt the same way about his mother as Connor felt about Astrid anyway.

  “Yeah, okay.” Connor sounded less belligerent and a bit more subdued. “I mean, I promise.”

  They went up the wooden stairs from the dock and then along the gravel path that led to the airstrip. Connor didn’t say anything, though a brief glance at him told Damon that there must have been a lot going on inside his head, because he was frowning ferociously.

  There wasn’t much time left. The ball was in the kid’s court and he was going to have to make a play now if he wanted something from Damon.

  A tricky moment. Damon could have put pressure on him, but he sensed that would be the wrong approach. Connor had to make his own mind up.

  “You were in the army, weren’t you?” Connor asked. “With Silas?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you live in LA.”

  “More or less. I’ve been in Juneau the last few months.”

  “So are you going straight back to LA?”

  “Have to head
to Juneau to drop the plane off first.”

  They were approaching the hangar now, the doors standing open. The little Cessna he’d flown from Juneau was waiting for him, the Wild Alaska Aviation logo emblazoned on the side.

  He was going to miss flying when he was back in LA, that was for sure. He’d miss the wide-open blue of the Alaskan skies, its unforgiving mountains, and the deep green of the bush too. Even though he was a city boy, he couldn’t deny that the wilderness up here had a magic all its own—a magic he hadn’t expected when he’d first arrived in Juneau with Silas, Caleb, and Zeke.

  A magic he suspected he wouldn’t find anywhere else and certainly not in LA.

  He walked into the hangar, approaching the plane, then stopped and looked at Connor. “Time’s nearly up, kid.”

  Connor stared at him, chewing on his bottom lip, a whole host of emotions flickering in his blue eyes.

  Come on, Damon said silently. You want to ask me. I know you do.

  The boy said nothing.

  Damon sighed. If Connor didn’t want to ask him anything, then he didn’t want to ask. Couldn’t force him.

  You could stay, give him some more time.

  No. He couldn’t. Time was the one thing he didn’t have.

  Damon looked away, doing a visual check of the Cessna in preparation for flight.

  Then Connor said, “You knew my dad, didn’t you?”

  * * *

  Astrid sat on one of the barstools in the Moose, leaning her elbow on the bar, a cup of coffee slowly cooling beside her.

  Silas stood next to her, having pulled her into the Moose after Damon had left, to talk her through Kevin Anderson’s fishing charter plan, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy thinking about Damon and his treatment of her son.

  Connor definitely had a bee in his bonnet about Damon—for whatever reason; Astrid had no idea—and he’d been incredibly rude. Acting as though Damon was going to pull out a knife or something and challenging him head-on.

  Come on, you know.

  Guilt settled in her stomach, heavy as lead. Yeah, okay. Maybe she did.

  It had been five years since she’d escaped the verbally abusive relationship she’d been in before coming to Deep River, but the scars were still there.