Broken Promises

by Patricia Watters

  "Sorry," Zak said. "I didn't mean to stare. It just seems strange to see you dressed like that."

  He moved aside, and as she passed him, she caught the drift of men's aftershave, which surprised her. Zak never wore aftershave before. But maybe that was because she'd told him she wanted her Adam to smell like ferns and moss and whatever clung to him on the forest floor, and he'd laughed and promised to remain her nature boy. So, it seemed, turnabout was fair play. He was going against everything she liked, just as she was doing with him.

  Once inside, she wondered what to say next. It had been so easy for them to talk before. But now, what was there to say to a man who promised her the world, then shattered her dreams without so much as an explanation?

  Zak broke the awkwardness by lifting a bottle of wine from a wooden rack, and saying, "You're over twenty-one now. Do you want a glass of wine? It's from my father's private stock."

  Tess gave him a quick nervous smile. "I suppose," she said, but her eyes weren't on the bottle Zak held up for her to see, but instead, on his broad chest in the snug, long-sleeved white jersey. Not the kind of shirt she expected. Years before it would have been a worn denim work shirt, unless he was working in the afternoon when the sun was hot, when he'd be bare-chested. He'd been slimmer then, and she could see from the muscular contours beneath his shirt that his chest was thicker and his biceps more developed, as if he'd been working out. The patterns on his shirt were also different from what she might have expected... random designs in dark grays, like a giant tattoo. Catching the direction of her gaze, Zak looked down and said, "It's a Christmas gift from my brother. I thought it would be right for chopping my way through brush."

  "And the aftershave?" Tess asked, before she could stop herself.

  "I wore that to catch your notice," Zak replied.

  "It did, but it doesn't suit you," Tess said.

  He eyed her with amusement. "I could say the same about you in black, but I'd be lying."

  Tess shrugged. "My ex-husband like me in black."

  "And you're still trying to please him?" Zak asked.

  "No," Tess replied. "It's the first thing I grabbed before coming here."

  "Good choice." Zak handed her a wine glass, and as he was filling it, Tess saw that he'd poured from a bottle with the distinctive black-and-gold de Neuville label with a gold ram's head on it. She found it strange to be drinking wine with Zak. Although they'd made love too many times to count, that same summer Zak never offered her wine because she was only seventeen. She never questioned why giving her alcohol was an issue with him, while having sex with her wasn't, because she didn't want him to have a reason to stop. The fact was, she was hoping to get pregnant that summer so she could tie him to her forever. But when he gave her the ring, and talked about marrying her when she turned eighteen, she didn't worry anymore because she knew his love was forever...

  "My father's proud of this run," Zak said, setting the bottle down. "It's called Florencia. It won a gold medal at the national competition."

  Tess sipped the wine, and the bouquet filled her nostrils. "Why is it called Florencia?" she asked, looking up at him.

  "Florencia is Basque for high mountain flower," Zak replied. "It's made with flower petals, some from around here." He took a slow sip of wine while eyeing her over the rim of his glass. His gaze was intense, his pupils wide, and Tess wondered if he was remembering how it had been with them--Eve draping Adam with columbine. Whenever he became aroused, his gaze became intense and his pupils opened. It was easy to tell with his gray-green eyes. She'd even joked with him about it, telling him she didn't have to look at his crotch to know when he wanted her, only his eyes...

  Uncomfortable with his steady gaze, she lifted the bottle of wine from the table, and while studying the label, she said, "Then I assume you're working at the winery now?"

  "I'm in charge of SpencerWildlifePark," Zak replied. "I help at the winery some, but my work at the park takes priority."

  "I don't understand," Tess said, looking up. "You always intended to work at the winery."

  "My degree's in wildlife management," Zak said.

  Tess found that puzzling. Before, he'd had no interest in college. He'd grown up working in the winery and was expected to take over some day. But she also remembered Zak being at odds with his father that summer. According to Zak, everything was either his father's way, or no way. Zak told her back then that moving into the cabin and signing on with Timber West was an escape. Maybe college had also been an escape...

  "Have you been here long?" she asked, an attempt at casual conversation, when what she really wanted was to fire a barrage of questions at him: Why did you leave me? Where did you go? Why didn't you come back? Why did you let me marry a man I didn't love?

  "About six weeks," Zak replied. "That's when I was appointed head of the threatened and endangered species program." He lifted the bottle she'd been clutching in her hands and tipped it toward her glass. "We're in the process of reinstating the bald eagle in the Channel islands," he said. "We'll be taking chicks from nests with twins and transporting them to California. But first I have to fly over established nests to see if they're occupied." He looked at her, curiously, and said, "Do you still fly?"

  "Yes," Tess replied. "I no longer have a plane though. My husband got custody of it when we divorced. But my dad still has his. He said I could take it up if I wanted."

  "Then you're still certified?"

  Tess nodded. "But that doesn't mean I fly. Right now Timber West is operating in the red, and flying costs money, so it will be a while before I try my wings again."

  "How about Sunday?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The park plane's in for an engine overhaul and I need to fly over some nests before the chicks fledge, and time's running out. I thought maybe you could take me up. The park has funds. I could make it worth your while."

  "Where do you want to go?" Tess asked, although she didn't know why. She had no intention of flying Zak around in her father's plane.

  "Just around the area," Zak replied. "I have nests pinpointed on a map. But I'd also like to touch down at the PineMountain ranger station and talk to the park ranger there. Do you know Ralph Tolsted?"

  "No," Tess said. "But I know where the PineMountain station is. My dad and I flew over it a few times, even landed there once. Dad wasn't too thrilled with the landing strip though... says it's the shortest strip he's ever used. Why PineMountain?"

  "I want to check a nest there and talk to Tolsted about others in the area," Zak replied. "Timing's everything right now. Most of the eagle chicks are ready to fledge." He eyed her steadily again, and it was like she was caught in his dark gaze. It had always been that way with her. He'd get that intense look, and she was like a deer trapped in headlights...

  "It's pretty important work we're doing," he said.

  No. There was no way she'd take him up. Zak living in the cabin where her father found them was bad enough. Taking him up in her father's plane would set her relationship with her father back years if he found out, and she was home to try and close the rift between them...

  "It shouldn't take more than an hour... two at the most with a short stop at PineMountain," Zak said. "Besides, it will give me a chance to be piloted by the grown up version of the fourteen year old scrap of a girl who bragged to me years ago that she could fly a plane."

  Tess couldn't help smiling, which brought a smile from Zak, a smile she'd tried to hold in memory over the years. A smile that still made her heart flutter and her breath quicken. "I suppose it would be all right if it's not more than a couple of hours," she found herself saying, and refused to analyze why.

  "Thanks," he replied, "I'll owe you dinner when we get back."

  "That's not necessary," Tess said, and resolved to stick by that. "So, show me the map."

  She set her wine glass aside and stepped over to the table where a map was rolled out and held flat with four coffee mugs. "I hope you're wrong about the
property line, because if you're not, my father's going to be hell to live with," she said while scanning the map."Show me what you're talking about."

  Zak walked over and stood behind her. Reaching around her, he said, while dragging his finger over the map, "Your cabin's right about here, and this is the road that runs between your cabin and the camp." Moving his finger over, he said, "This is where one designated marker is, and this is the other." His finger stopped precisely on the grotto.

  As Tess stared at Zak's hand she was flooded with memories of that same hand exploring and caressing her body, and of toes curling against cool moss, and flesh against flesh, and forbidden desires. Forbidden because Zak had been twenty one while she was only seventeen...

  "But the grotto has always been on Timber West land," she said, impulsively.

  After a stretch of awkward silence, Zak said, "According to the survey, Timber West land stops ten feet this side of the logging road. The trees your father cut are over here on our land." Zak moved his finger from the grotto.

  Tess ducked under Zak's arm and stepped around the table. Away from the distraction of having his arm around her, and his chest against her shoulder, and his breath against her head, she could study the map more closely. To her dismay, she saw that the trees cut had clearly been on the de Neuville land. "Okay maybe the survey's right," she conceded, "but I still don't want to upset my father over four trees. I'll pay your father for them and make sure no more trees are cut. Just don't let your father do anything right now."

  "It's not that simple," Zak said. "My father's talking about stretching a fence along the line. He wants to move the sheep onto this land for the summer, and this has to be resolved."

  "Can't you stall the fence work, or at least leave that area for later?" Tess asked. "My father's health it pretty frail right now and I don't want this upsetting him."

  Zak sighed. "I'll see what I can do. Meanwhile, have your men haul the trees back to our place, and I'll tell my father that your father inadvertently logged on our land and that no more trees will be cut. With luck, my father will drop the issue." He rolled up the map and walked around the table and offered it to her, saying, "Take this to your father so he can see where the line runs. That should settle it."

  Tess shook her head. "I'll just pay for the trees and make sure no more are cut."

  "Suit yourself." Zak tossed the rolled map on the table. "About Sunday," he said. "Are we still on?" He moved around the table and she didn't back away, even though she knew he wanted to kiss her. The years had not dimmed her memory of the look he got. It started with his eyes. Dark. Intense. Focused on her mouth. And then his nostrils flared. And the muscles in his jaws bunched. And his lips parted as he moved toward her. And his hands came up to take her arms as they had...

  She turned her face away, and said, "Please don't."

  Zak dropped his hands. "Sorry," he said. "Some old habits die hard."

  Tess knew only too well. It bothered her that he still had such a hold on her.

  "Look, about Sunday," Zak said. "That won't happen again."

  "Good. Then we understand each other," Tess replied. "So I'll pick you up around two." Turning from him, she grabbed her flashlight, clicked it on, and dashed into the darkness.

  As she made her way back to her cabin, she considered the ramifications of taking Zak up in her father's plane. He'd be furious if he knew, but it would only be for two hours, so she'd keep it from him. He didn't need that stress.

  She also knew that Zak had the same effect on her as in the past. Nothing had changed. But after Sunday's flight, there would be no more dealings with Zak. He'd left her once. He'd leave her again. There was no place in her life for Zak de Neuville now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tess pulled up in front of the white frame house in Baker’s Creek where she grew up. When she stepped into the living room, she detected the unmistakable aroma of cinnamon and warm yeast. Aunt Ruth met her at the door. "Hi, sweetie," she said. "You'd better go into the kitchen and assure your father that you got through your first day at camp in one piece. He's been in a stew all morning waiting to hear from you."

  Tess looked toward the kitchen and saw her father sitting at the table reading the paper, but she could tell he wasn't into it because the paper was crinkled where his hands held it, and one foot was shaking in agitation. "How's he been doing, other than worrying himself into a frazzle about Timber West?" she asked.

  Aunt Ruth pursed her lips. "He's as cantankerous as an old dog. I only put up with him because I know that underneath that crusty exterior he's soft as a kitten."

  Tess laughed. "You're right. Did you give him what for, for going to the camp yesterday?"

  "You better believe I did," Aunt Ruth said. "I turn my back for a couple of hours and he's off. Well, he's not getting away today."

  Tess followed Aunt Ruth through the dining room. "How did he take it?"

  Aunt Ruth glanced back, and said, "He grumbled something about domineering women, and I reminded him that it was a matter of survival of the fittest." She tapped her brother's shoulder on the way to the stove. "Tess is here." She set a platter with scrambled eggs and hash browns in the middle of the table, then slipped on oven mitts and lifted a tray of fresh baked cinnamon rolls out of the oven and set them on a hot pad beside the platter of eggs and hash browns.

  Tess kissed her father on the forehead, and said, while pulling out a chair adjacent to him, "Well, I survived my first day at Timber West."

  "Did you have any problem with Jed Swenson?"Gib asked, while serving himself from the platter.

  "No, he never showed up," Tess replied, while reaching for a cinnamon roll. "Am I supposed to put up with behavior like that, or can I fire him?. "

  A worried frown creased Gib's brow. "Don't be too quick to do that," he said. "He's a good worker... knows logging and equipment. But he can be kind of stubborn at times."

  "If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is," Aunt Ruth interjected.

  Tess winked at her aunt, then said to her father, "Swenson wasn't at the meeting in the cook shack or at my office later, as I requested. He's openly defying me. Do you put up with that?"

  "I haven't been around him that much," Gib said. "I hired him a few weeks before my heart attack, and I was lucky to get him. Before you fire him, you'd better have someone in mind who'll step in. Word's out that Carl Yaeger's about to buy the tract between Timber West and the ridge, and if he does, he'll be hiring. If you get rid of Swenson you might find yourself without a woods boss, and no one else to take his place."

  "Well, Swenson's not any use to me right now," Tess said. "If he doesn't show up soon, I'll have to let him go." She licked warm icing from her fingers, then said to her father, "If Carl Yaeger buys the tract, do you think he'll let us keep going through like we always have?"

  "I hope so," Gib replied. "If he doesn't, we're in trouble. There's no other access to the pole timber area unless de Neuville lets us go through his land, and we know the answer to that."

  "Have you ever had our property surveyed?" Tess asked, jumping at the opportunity to broach the subject of the cut trees.

  "There's no need," Gib replied. "I know where the line runs."

  "How do you know if you've never had it surveyed?" Tess asked. "You could end up accidentally cutting timber off someone else's land. It just seems like a good idea to make sure."

  Gib eyed Tess with mild annoyance. "I'm not going to pay some half-wit to come with his fancy equipment and try to tell me what I already know."

  "Then I'll do it for you," Tess insisted. "We'll get someone out there and find out exactly where the lines are so we won't have to worry."

  "I'm not worried, and I don't want to hear anything more about surveys."

  "If you don't want to hear about it from me, then you'll be hearing from Jean-Pierre de Neuville," Tess said, her voice rising with her frustration, "because he did have a survey done and it shows that the property line runs forty feet
from where you think it is."

  Gib refused to reply... his means of ending the discussion. And Tess knew better than to pursue the issue. So she glared at him instead, to which he responded by eating and ignoring her.

  During the silence that stretched between, Aunt Ruth started talking about what was happening in the neighborhood, and Tess knew exactly why. It was Aunt Ruth's long-held means of defusing things. But after Gib finished eating and left to work on his truck, Aunt Ruth said, "He gets more stubborn as he gets older. You might as well save your breath about those trees. How was the cabin? I'd hoped to get out there and scrub it down before you moved in."

  "It was in pretty good shape," Tess replied. "A little sweeping and it was livable."

  Aunt Ruth sighed. "I don't know why your father's holding onto the place. Everything needs painting or fixing. He'll work himself to death out there."

  "He'll die quicker if he sells and does nothing," Tess said. "It would be like admitting to himself that he's old and washed up, and he's not ready for that. And when he does decide to sell, I know he'll hold out until he gets what he thinks the business is worth, whether it is or not."

  "You're right about that," Aunt Ruth agreed. "But it'll be years before the timber industry recovers from the slump. And running the camp's not a life for you."

  "I don't plan to run it forever," Tess said. "But I do want to help get the business out of the red and Dad through this period."

  "Well, I don't like the idea of you staying out there all alone with no one else around," Aunt Ruth said.

  Tess gave Aunt Ruth a confident smile. "The men are just up the road at the bunkhouse."

  "You don't know that much about those men," Aunt Ruth said. "A pretty woman all alone out there can be a real drawing card. I just wish there were more permanent neighbors around. With all the woods there, someone could be hiding out."