Whispers of the Heart

by Stephanie Wilson

  Chapter Twelve

  While Erika finished applying a final touch of pale pink lipstick to her already perfect lips, she heard a key unlock the front cottage door. She smiled to herself at Tim’s presumption. Shaking her head, she realized that she should be more firm with him but ... she also enjoyed the familiarity. There were just different rules up here than in Los Angeles she rationalized. More and more she realized that she much preferred the world she was now apart of.

  T.J. and Erika were seated at a large round pine table covered in crisp white linens in the center of Elkin’s dining area. At the heart of the log structure, a stone fireplace dominated the room and was just a couple of feet from their table. Above the fireplace and in half a dozen other places were trophy heads of deer, moose, duck and fish. The atmosphere was warm and inviting. It was a storybook picture of a Northwest hunting lodge.

  As Erika perused the room, she realized most those present were locals who knew one another. She recognized some from the Harvest Festival the day before. As the soothing sounds from an instrumental guitar floated gently through the air, Erika let her mind wander while Tim engaged a local real estate agent who was apparently scouting some property for him.

  Wondering if she was the only non-local, Erika successfully located a group of four in the far corner of the room who kept mostly to themselves. For some reason, she was glad there were others present like her. The impending return to Los Angeles made her feel more separated from the people she had come to love.

  Snippets of conversation with Ellie and with her Uncle replayed like a rhythm in her mind and heaviness settled on her shoulders. Questions haunted her. The idyllic world was beginning to crack. Shards of darkness shot through the light. Insecurity peeked its ugly head. The contrast between her two worlds was sharpening. Maime had a favorite phrase that Erika now replayed in her mind ... ‘to whom much was given, much was required.’

  She had been blessed with prosperity, with good fortune. The responsibility now weighed heavily. Sacrifice. Life was a sacrifice for those you loved. Erika glanced at T.J.’s chiseled jaw line. Strength emanated from his every move. If only she could confide in him. He would know how to help her. And yet, instinctively, she withdrew from the idea. Somehow, she already knew what his response would be. Loyalty and sacrifice seemed to be a mantle that he wore proudly. They were also the qualities she most admired in him. He would believe her responsibility was to her family and their business endeavors.

  But how could she just leave him? Walk away ... forever. Her heart would break. As if sensing her tumult of emotions, T.J. gently slid his hand to her knee, softly squeezing and then reaching for her hand to hold tenderly in his. The connection brought a swell of emotion to Erika.

  “Why the sad face, my darling,” came a voice on the other side of Erika. It startled her because she had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn’t seen him sit down. It was Harry.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said gently removing her hand from T.J.’s grasp.

  “It’s just that, well, my stay is almost over and I suppose I was just realizing how much I’m going to miss this place.”

  “Yeah,” he breathed, looking longingly at the block of paned windows that stretched the entire length of the lodge with a view to the lake beyond. “There is just something about this place. It gets inside of you and it will never let you go.”

  Then looking back at Erika and somewhat embarrassed, Harry continued.

  “I, uh...,” and then cleared his throat. “I would like to apologize ... once again ... for the way I acted this morning...”

  “No,” she said gently waving her hand. “There is no need. You have already made up for it with your charming companionship and very entertaining stories.”

  He chuckled fondly. “When will you be back? I suppose you will come with Tim next time?”

  Sadly, Erika shook her head. “No, I don’t know if I will ever be back.”

  “But ... I thought you two ...”

  “We’re just friends,” she said looking at the fresh arrangement of flowers at the table’s center.

  “Does he know that?” Harry questioned.

  “Of course ... he knows that. We uh, ... haven’t discussed it, but it is ... understood.”

  “From your standpoint or his?”

  “Listen,” he continued at her obvious discomfort, “It isn’t any of my business but ... if you want any advice...”

  At Erika’s slight shrug he continued.

  “You won’t find a better man than that ‘un. He’s as good as gold. Chaps his age are usually worthless, narcissistic. But not Tim. He’s a unique individual,” Harry continued shaking his head as if not understanding. “Anyone would understand if he was a little self absorbed, given the lot God has given him ... it would be justified.”

  “I ... I don’t know what you mean,” she responded.

  “Well, you know ...”

  At that point T.J. had picked up enough of the conversation to know where it was heading. Quickly, he interrupted, successfully intervening in an all too enlightening conversation.

  “Hey, Harry! Any news from the Weigh Master yet?”

  “Nope! Very tight-lipped. I have heard, though, that one of those tourists over there caught a good-sized one. It may, in fact, rival ours. Oh, hey,” he interrupted himself. “Here he comes,” nodding toward the back door.

  At the Weigh Master’s arrival, silence settled on the room. Maime and Papa quickly found their seats at the Morgan table. Each person present waited with baited breath for the results. Harry bowed his head and crossed his fingers. Erika took pity and gently covered his hand with hers. Smiling shyly, he enveloped her hand in both of his.

  “Ladies and Gentleman,” the Weigh Master began officially, “I jus’ want to thank all of you who participated this year. Again, there were no accidents and everyone had a good time. The weather was suburb and the fishing ... from what I heard ... was outstanding.”

  A loud cheer went up from the crowd. Each commenting that it was such a day.

  “I think we need to thank a few women tonight before we get on with the results. Every year we give a reward to the fishermen ... but this year we also want to thank the women who made this event possible.

  As each woman stood and received her due compliment, it surprised Erika that no one seemed to mind the gender distinction. In her world, women would not allow being reduced to the kitchen help, the secretarial staff in a seemingly man’s world. In her world, women occupied positions of authority, competition between both sexes was fierce ... and ... the women she knew were beginning to have an edge. For after all, she was a member of that elite group.

  Yet, for the first-time Erika could peer through the window of another world, a world some would say should never exist. In today’s world of high-test occupations, unbelievable technological advances and equal opportunity, it was refreshing to see these women of a unique culture taking a stand for domesticity. And not only were the women fulfilled, they were admired and cherished by their community. It was an idea Erika promised herself she would ponder at some future time.

  “This has been a very successful Derby year,” the Weigh Master was explaining. “We had one hundred and twenty-six teams enter. That means that registration fees totaled ... Mabel,” he barked, “is this number a three or an eight ... your handwriting gets worse every year,” he complained to the delight of the crowd as the Derby secretary came rushing to the band platform.

  After a few moments of consultation between the Weigh Master and the secretary, the crowd quieted to finally hear the results.

  “Sorry, Ladies and Gentlemen ... anyways, as I was saying,” the Weigh Master said, resuming his earlier memorized speech. “Registration fees totaled three thousand one hundred and fifty dollars. And that is quite a record,” he stated proudly. “And as all of you know, the winner will receive sixty percent of the pot which means that one of the teams will win one thousand eight hundred and ninety dollars. And so ...
without further ado ... I will begin the official reading of the qualifying fish.”

  The reading of weights and measurements of all Mackinaw Trout caught that day as well as the members of the four-person team took quite some time as the Weigh Master had to consult Mabel, whose face had turned from a dull pink to a firestorm red, every few minutes. Erika scanned the room, memorizing the atmosphere, taking time to mentally immortalize those present. Finally, the Weigh Master announced he would read the top five qualifying Mackinaw. As the Morgan team had not yet been called, each at their table listened with baited breath.

  Three teams were then acknowledged, leaving only two. The Morgan team and a visiting team from California. The room became silent. Papa and Maime leaned forward anxiously, Harry was holding his breath. Erika patted his hand as she found her own heart racing, wanting like all the rest to be on the winning team.

  “Second place and winner of five hundred dollars goes to a forty-two pound, eight-ounce Mackinaw caught by ... Harry Cunningham and the rest of his team; Tim Morgan, Papa Doogin, and Marie Bancroft.”

  Papa chuckled as he looked down at Maime’s hand grasping his own. Harry slammed his fist on the pine table. Erika smiled and nodded at the Weigh Master as T.J. rose from the table to accept the award money on behalf of the other three.

  Hoots of laughter followed T.J. as he neared the stage. Holding his hand up for silence, he addressed the crowded room.

  “I know you guys are enjoying this,” he laughed as the room erupted in applause, stomping feet and shouts of laughter. “But don’t get too confident because next year,” he warned. “.... there is always a next year!”

  “As always,” he continued as the room quieted once again, “our team would like to donate the award money to the Priest Lake Museum. Every year more and more tourists venture through those cottage doors. And they learn,” he said remembering the rapt expression of Erika’s face as he so recently led her through those very same rooms, “they learn about a world that is quickly becoming extinct ... our world.”

  “Harry and Maude and Charlie and Eunice,” he said nodding to proud faces scattered around the lodge, “and so many of you donate your time to teaching the outside world about our heritage. They learn what it was like to survive in the wilderness without the modern conveniences of electricity, telephones, and heat. They realize that our Lake, this pristine jewel, this natural resource, is just a gift to use for awhile until another generation comes along behind us as we have those before us. A gift that must be cared for, conserved and respected.”

  “Each one of you have donated a part of yourself for this very worthwhile project,” T.J. continued, “and I want to take this opportunity to thank you for it. The importance of maintaining this link with our heritage is vital. We must never let the world forget the ways of our ancestors ... the good and pure and unselfish ways of North Idaho. As we all work together we can build the bridge for the new generation to cross in discovering the heritage of this great land.”

  A lone applause could be heard from the back doorway. Many turned their heads to find Charlie, an elderly Native American man standing in ovation of T.J.’s speech. Others around him also stood until in a few seconds, the entire body of those present also stood and offered applause. Erika felt her heart burst in pride as T.J., humbled, nodded his head in thanks to his friends around the great room. Tiny tears came to her eyes as she clapped for the man she loved.

  “What did I tell you,” a voice whispered in her ear. “I told you he was one of the best.”

  As T.J. held up his hand for silence, the Weigh Master came forward and took the microphone.

  “Each and every one of us is grateful to the Morgan family for their commitment and dedication to the Museum. Without their backing and support, I’m sure we could not keep the doors open fer very long. Thank you,” he said to Tim, “and please thank your family for us.”

  Erika was a little surprised by the Weigh Master’s words. Although she had no idea how much money it would cost to maintain that little cottage museum, she knew it was more than T.J.’s annual Derby prize money. She would have to ask Maime about it later.

  “And so ... moving right along,” the Weigh Master continued, “first place goes to the Johnson team with a forty-two pound, eight ...” the room once again became deathly silent as he deliberately double checked his figures, “and one half ounce Mackinaw!”

  Once again, the crowd erupted in delight at the closeness of the race.

  “I demand a re-weigh,” cried a furious Harry.

  Erika immediately tried to quiet him down. He shrugged her away.

  “That’s too close,” he yelled. “A stinking half ounce isn’t enough!”

  “It’s not too close,” demanded the Weigh Master. “I’ve been doing this as long as you’ve been catching ‘em, Harry. I had two others with me and they confirmed the results. I’m sorry, Harry. We weighed ‘em three times! I know how much this means to you. I’m sorry.”

  T.J. had finally made his way back to the table and patted Harry on the shoulder. “We will get him next time, Harry. Next year will be here before you know it. You’ll be on that boat, I promise.”

  Harry hugged T.J. around the neck. Though he was much smaller, the hug was fierce.

  “Excuse me,” the winner was saying into the microphone, trying to garner some attention. “I ... I just want to say thank you for the opportunity of fishing with you. We would never have won if it hadn’t been for the Morgan team directing us to the right fishing spot. They advised us to use worms instead of lures and ... it did the trick.”

  Harry glowered at Papa. “One half ounce and you had to tell them to use worms,” he spat.

  “Yea, Harry, but you told ‘im to fish in our secret spot! It’s as much your fault as mine,” Papa haughtily returned.

  “Our team has discussed this,” the winner was saying, “and after hearing that speech about your Museum, well, we would like to donate the money from our winnings as well. We believe giving back is a good thing too. But Mr. Morgan, don’t be so confident that it will be you who stands here next year to receive the award money. We also will be back.”

  The crowed cheered, successfully drowning out the Weigh Master’s final words. Each fisherman already making plans for the coming year.

  A delicious trout dinner was served accompanied by baby red potatoes, a tender green salad and fresh garden vegetables. All present declared the fish better than they had ever tasted before. Soon the much-anticipated parfait made from carefully gathered Idaho huckleberries harvested in July was the perfect epicurean delight.

  A country western band was beginning a sad ballad when T.J. leaned over to Erika and whispered in her ear, requesting a dance.

  Wistfully, Erika agreed and was led out to a makeshift dance floor where several other couples had already begun.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look this evening?” T.J. asked charmingly.

  “No, you haven’t,” Erika teased.

  As T.J. whirled her around to a less occupied corner of the floor he continued the somewhat obvious seduction.

  “You are the most beautiful woman here, Marie,” he breathed in her ear.

  “Thank you,” she said simply. “You aren’t so bad yourself. I just wish your proportions weren’t so gargantuan,” she exclaimed crooking her neck to see his eyes. “It makes dancing a tad bit awkward,” she mumbled into his chest.

  “Only when you crane your neck ... otherwise we fit perfectly,” he said gently lowering her head onto his muscled chest.

  Closing her eyes, Erika agreed wholeheartedly. A tingle of warmth soon spread over her entire body as his hand splayed her lower back.

  “I never knew you were such an orator,” she breathed, trying to waylay the escalating desire.

  “If you truly believe in what you are doing,” T.J. whispered, “convincing people to follow is second nature.”

  “Is that what you are trying to do, Tim. Get people to follow you?”
r />   “Not people, Marie, just you.”

  At her quick intake of breath, T.J. drew her further into his embrace as the vocalist sang about long distance love affairs, about chasms and breaches and about true love gone sour. As a fiddle picked up the refrain, Erika’s heart was torn as she snuggled closer to T.J.’s immense form. The comfort and security pulled her in. She couldn’t help but agree how perfectly their bodies fit together, as if ... they had been made for each other.

  Her head fit snugly just over his heart. She could hear the rhythmical beating, softly, slowly lulling away the confusion and the tiredness. Somehow Erika knew her impossible situation would work out for the best. As long as T.J. would hold her in his arms, the world was held at bay.

  T.J. slowly caressed Erika’s hair as they danced. It felt so right. As if destiny had drawn their worlds together. The gentle sway of her hips, the feminine way her sapphire eyes flirted caused his heart to skip a beat. He knew she believed in honesty and integrity ... most of the time. He believed there was a very good reason for her refusal to trust him with her secrets. Otherwise, he knew she wore those virtues as a mantle and they were the reasons he had fallen in love with her.

  Gazing off in the distance, T.J. knew the time was fast approaching when those secrets, however, must fall by the wayside. Very soon he would have to be honest with her and she would have to be honest with him. It was a time when all veils of secrecy must be torn away if their relationship would ever have a chance.

  Tenderly, T.J. tightened his embrace, relishing the freshness, the newness ... hoping the truth would never tear them apart. Other couples were now entering the dance floor. He knew in a matter of minutes, she would be whisked away from him. Slipping into the shadows of the dance floor, slowly, softly he bent his head and placed a chaste kiss first on one eyelid and then the other. Her sweet fragrance wafted over his senses, making it impossible for him to break contact with her. Softly, he trailed his lips down over the bridge of her nose until he reached its upturned tip. There he placed a lingering kiss. Gazing down at the rapt expression on her face, he tenderly lowered his lips until they met hers.