Their life was perfect here, in their hideaway. That was what he’d started calling the tiny cabin—their hideaway. Their secret palace of pleasure.
She glanced around the room. It seemed so small all of a sudden. And so empty. The pots and pans had all been cleaned and stacked neatly on the shelves. The empty water jug sat in the little aluminum sink. The table and its one surviving chair. The couch and stove. She’d remember this place always. Even if she didn’t really see it as a palace, it had been the most special time of her life. Never had she been so loved.
But she couldn’t stay with Brandon. He didn’t even realize it, but eventually he’d resent the fact that she couldn’t give him children. With so much love inside of him, he deserved a big family. He’d make a wonderful father. A loving husband to a woman who’d give him everything he needed.
“Thought you were going to sweep,” he said when he returned with the empty ash bucket. “The propane tanks are down by the lake.”
“Thanks.” She sighed and started brushing the broom over the floor. “Why don’t you take all the stuff from the porch down there, too?”
Brandon put his fingers under her chin and kissed her gently. “Stop moping, baby. Remember the pizza.”
She forced a smile, though it must have looked as tragic at it felt. After Brandon went back outside, she continued with her sweeping. She wondered about the woman he would wind up marrying. Tall. Probably blonde and blue eyed, to offset his dark coloring. Their babies would be fair with dark, soulful eyes. With a cute, crooked little smile that would win the hearts of everyone they came into contact with.
He’d start up his guide service. Fishing in the summer, hunting in the fall. She’d probably be a sweet elementary school teacher, or a secretary like his mother. On the weekends they’d go camping. Little League games. Christmas school pageants. Isabella dropped the broom and wrapped her arms around herself. God, it hurt.
The door opened. “Bjorn’s here, Bell—what’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, his arms around her. “Are you sick?”
“Just sad,” she answered honestly.
“Babe, we’ll come back here. Maybe next summer.” He kissed her cheek softly. “There’s nothing to be sad about. We have wonderful memories.” He kissed her lips. “And we’ll make many, many more.”
She couldn’t respond. It hurt too much. He kept talking about them. Together. It was killing her, slowly, painfully, shredding her heart to bits.
“Come on, sweetie. Bjorn’s here.”
“Let me finish up. I’ll be out in a sec.”
He gave her another quick kiss before going out the door. Brandon was so happy to return home, but she wondered how he’d feel about her in the morning, when he found her gone.
Scooping the dust and ashes into the dustpan, she took it onto the porch and dumped it off the edge. After waving to Bjorn, who was loading their bags into the plane, she returned the broom and dustpan to the pantry and took one last look around the cabin.
Flashes of memories flickered in her mind’s eye. An unconscious Brandon lying on the couch. The two of them sitting on that same couch playing cards, laughing over “winner’s choice.” Brandon standing in the kitchen making her blueberry pancakes the first morning after they’d made love. The two of them entwined in the loft after sharing a passion and intimacy she’d only fantasized about. Talking, laughing, holding and touching.
With a deep, heartfelt sigh, she closed the door and headed toward the men. She knew she’d never return here. Probably never return to Alaska at all. She couldn’t be in the same state, even one the size of this, knowing Brandon was here, too.
As Bjorn taxied the plane into the middle of the lake, Isabella leaned back in her seat. Brandon put his arm around her shoulders, and she closed her eyes. The men were talking, but she didn’t really hear what was being said. This was her last day with Brandon. She just wanted to remember the way he felt. The way the fragrance of spruce needles and fresh air clung to him, enhancing the wondrous scent that was inherently his. A scent she would remember until the end of her days.
The plane lifted into the air, the acceleration pressing her body into the seat. Brandon’s hand closed over her shoulder, and he pulled her closer. She took a peek out the window when Bjorn banked the plane and caught a glimpse of the cabin. A little piece of her heart was down there. And tomorrow morning, when she was on the plane leaving Brandon, the rest of her heart would stay with him.
Snuggling against him, she laid her head on his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. If this was the last day with him, she needed to make the most of it.
She must have dozed off, because she didn’t stir until she felt the plane’s descent and Brandon’s fingers lightly rubbing her arm. She opened her eyes and saw the city of Fairbanks sprawled out below them. She’d spent two days in the small city before heading to the cabin. It was easy to pick out a few of the landmarks. The campus of University of Alaska sat high up on a hill overlooking town. A couple strip malls and a big department store. The airport.
The landing was smooth as silk. Not at the airport, but on a straight stretch of the Chena River. Bjorn’s house, a stately log home right on the water, also held the office for Carlton Guide Service. He taxied the plane up to a small wooden dock. Bjorn’s wife stood waiting for them, ready to help secure the plane. There was another woman there, too. Brandon’s mother.
Peeking up at Brandon, Isabella saw his smile. “Mom’s going to kill me,” he said with a chuckle.
“As well she should. First you go missing, then you’re found and don’t come home.” That from Bjorn, who was busy doing his post flight.
“Ready?” Brandon asked as he squeezed her arm.
No! But she didn’t say it. Instead she smiled and nodded.
Bjorn held out his hand for her, and she stepped out of the plane onto the dock that led up to the pretty, varnished log home. Bjorn’s wife, Matty, smiled and gave her a warm hug. “Welcome back.”
Isabella smiled and gave the older lady a little squeeze. She was petite, just over five feet tall, and thin. “Thank you for the goodies, Mrs. Carlton, but I insist on paying you for them, and the extra fuel used to bring them out to me.”
“Nonsense. You’ve already paid all you’re going to. Besides, it set my mind at ease to know you were all right.”
“Hi, Mom,” Brandon said as he engulfed the other woman in a big hug, lifting her off the ground and placing a smacking kiss on her cheek.
“Don’t you ‘hi Mom’ me, young man.” But the woman squeezed her son and smiled.
She was sixty-seven, and her name was Barbara, Brandon had told Isabella. Neat white hair over a gentle, loving face adorned only by stylish wire-rimmed glasses. She was about Bella’s height and pleasantly plump, wearing the typical Alaskan fare of jeans, running shoes, and a blue denim shirt over a pink T-shirt.
“And you, young lady,” Barbara said with a smile, “are the one that kept him out there all this time?”
The love emanating from the woman was tactile. It made her ache all the more, but she smiled and stepped forward, extending her hand. “No, ma’am. He was kind of like a wild animal. Once I fed him and tended his wounds, he wouldn’t go away.”
Barbara laughed and pulled her into a hug instead of taking her hand. “Feisty little thing, isn’t she? What did you do, eat all her food?” Barbara asked Brandon as she held Isabella’s shoulders and looked her over. “She’s nothing but skin and bones.”
“Ha. She can eat me under the table.”
Isabella stuck her tongue out at Brandon. “With this lovely woman as your mother, I’d have thought you’d have better manners.” She grinned at Barbara. “He’s very rude.”
Barbara laughed and hugged her again. Another sensation Isabella would cherish forever. The sense of loss surprised her. She’d been an orphan since the age of twelve, but to have a mother’s touch again, even if it wasn’t from her own mother, made her heart yearn for more.
�
��Well, don’t stand around doing nothing, Brandon. Go get your stuff and load it in the car. I’ll take you home so you both can shower and throw your clothes in the washer. Then I’ll run to the store and pick up dinner.”
“Bella wants pizza, with lots of green peppers and anchovies. And tequila,” he called over his shoulder as he took a couple bags from Bjorn.
With Barbara’s arm around Isabella’s shoulders, they walked up the path that wound around the outside of Bjorn’s house, to a late model tan sedan in the driveway. “I don’t like anchovies or green peppers.”
Barbara opened the trunk of the car. “He’s a stinker, isn’t he? How you put up with him for so long is beyond me.” She spoke with a smile on her lips and love in her eyes.
“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that,” Isabella said, wondering if the look on her face was anything like Barbara’s.
The sleeping bags had been rented from Bjorn and Matty, along with the tent, which never got used, and the tarp Isabella had used to drag Brandon from the lake, the propane tanks, the gun, fishing poles and tackle box.
Turning to Bjorn, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything.”
The big blond man’s fair cheeks blushed like a boy. She laughed when he grabbed her and nearly squeezed the breath out of her with a bear hug. “You come visit us.”
Isabella nodded, knowing full well she’d never see him again. She gave Matty another hug and thanked her once more, then got into the front seat of Barbara’s car. Brandon held the door for her. Trying to stem the tears that threatened, she forced a little laugh. “Oh, I see you have a few manners after all.”
Brandon leaned into the car and captured her lips in a hot, tongue-thrusting kiss that stole her breath. Her very soul.
“Now, children,” Barbara teased as she got behind the wheel.
Brandon laughed and slid into the back seat after closing Isabella’s door.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Barbara instructed Isabella as she pulled out into light afternoon traffic.
“Leave her alone, Mom. She’s tired.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brandon didn’t want his mom pressing Bella to say anything right now. She’d been looking a little off-balance since leaving the cabin. She might have been putting on a good front, but he knew her well enough to know she was about to break and cry all over herself.
“You hush now, boy,” Barbara scolded, giving him “the eye” in the rearview mirror.
“I just turned thirty-two,” Bella said quietly.
Oh, damn! She’d told him her birthday was at the end of the month. It had come and gone, and she’d not said a word to him.
“And I’m currently between jobs.”
His mom’s gaze flicked toward him in the rearview mirror. He shook his head. She gave a tiny nod of understanding and didn’t press any further. “She wants to work with flowers,” Brandon told his mom as he laid a reassuring hand on Bella’s shoulder. “Maybe own a flower shop.”
Barbara nodded. “That would be lovely.”
That little fist around Brandon’s heart gave a hard tug when Bella laid her cheek against his fingers. He wished she’d talk to him. Last night she’d had the night terrors again. She hadn’t had it since that first time. Something was very wrong, but she insisted she was just sad to be leaving the cabin.
When she’d described the dream to him, it made him ill. Between her mother’s death and her uncle’s, she’d seen too much. She said that part of it was missing last night, though. It was the first time Bart hadn’t been a key player in her nightmares. Brandon hoped that was a good sign. Hoped that things were changing for her and eventually she wouldn’t have the nightmare at all. At this point, all he cared about was being there for her when they awakened her and getting her the professional help she needed to move on.
They pulled into the short driveway outside his mother’s home. He stepped out of the car and opened Bella’s door for her.
“It’s beautiful,” Bella said as her gaze roamed over the house.
“Dad built this place for Mom,” he told her as he went to the back of the car to pull the bags from the trunk. “Most of the work he did himself.”
The house was a two-story, red-stained wood-sided A-frame, with white gingerbread trim fancying it up. It’d always reminded him of a giant dollhouse. A balcony over the carport looked out on a pretty little lawn where a white cast cherub birdbath stood sentinel. Towering white birch surrounded the whole property, and flowers seem to overflow from nook and cranny from Mother’s day to first snowfall.
His mom led them into the house, telling Brandon to take their bags directly to the laundry room. He did as his mother told him, then joined Bella and his mom in the kitchen. “Come on, babe, I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can shower. I’ll get you some clean clothes to wear, too”
Bella took his hand, and he led her down the short hallway to the downstairs bathroom. He followed her in and shut the door behind them.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
His answer was to pull her against him and give her a deep kiss that came straight from his heart. He wanted to smooth away the look of sadness in her eyes, the little frown that wrinkled her forehead. She melted against him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Oh,” she said on a sigh, when he lifted his mouth from hers.
“Oh? That’s all I get is an ‘oh?’”
“Mmm.” She smiled and laid her head against his shoulder.
“Baby, what’s bothering you?”
“Other than we’re in your mother’s beautiful home and we smell like burnt wood and insect repellant? Nothing.”
Her light tone was forced, and it bothered him. But he wouldn’t press. “Well, we better fix that then, huh?” He kissed her again before turning on the taps in the oversized tub and put the plug in the drain. “A nice long, hot bath should take care of it.” He pulled a bottle of rose scented bubble bath from under the sink and poured a generous amount under the running water. “Come on, outta your clothes so I can get them into the washer.”
“I, uh...” She fumbled with her flannel shirttail. “Your mother’s out there,” she whispered.
Brandon sat down on the edge of the tub and, using the front of her shirt, pulled her between his knees. “Yes, she is, and unless you want her to come in here and fetch them herself, you better give me your clothes.” He started unbuttoning her shirt.
“You can’t see me naked with your mother in the other room,” she whispered furiously as she tried slapping his hands away from her buttons.
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was so serious, and so damned cute. “Sweetie, how old did you say you were?”
She shoved his shoulder and he almost tumbled into the tub. “Bart wouldn’t even kiss me in front of his mother.”
“Well,” he said as he pushed her shirt off her shoulders. “I’ve already kissed you in front of my mother, and she didn’t have one little heart palpitation.” He lifted her sturdy, utilitarian sports bra over her head. “And I’m certainly not Bart, now am I?” He caught her nipple between his lips and gently suckled.
As he watched, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. “No-o-o,” she sighed as she steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders.
He unfastened her black leather belt and unbuttoned her jeans. “That’s right, baby, and don’t you ever forget it.”
She looked down at him and gave a sad little smile. “I don’t mean to compare, it’s just...”
“I understand.” He stood up and kissed her, pulling her flush against his body so he could feel her full, luscious breasts pressed against his chest. “Now, take those damn pants off or Mom will be coming in here. And if you think you’re embarrassed now...”
Bella sat on the commode and pulled off her boots and socks, then stood up and dropped her jeans and underwear. When she bent over to scoop up the clothing, Brandon couldn’t stop himself from cupping her smooth
bottom and giving it a little squeeze. Damn, she made him randy.
“Stop that!” She grinned. “Here.” Shoving the pile of clothes into his arms, she pushed him toward the door. “Now leave. We’re about to flood the bathroom.”
He laughed, gave her a quick peck on the lips, and then slipped out of the bathroom before too much of the steam could escape.
“So, what’s your plans with her?” his mom asked without preamble when he walked through the kitchen to the laundry room.
“Jeez, Mom. How about, how are you? Are you sure you’re all right? What happened to the plane?”
“Don’t get smart with me. Bjorn told me you were perfectly fine and you wanted to stay out there another two weeks with a pretty little redhead from California. Told me she dragged you out of the wreckage from the bottom of the lake and nursed you back to health.”
Brandon flashed his mom a smile as he threw jeans and heavy shirts into the washer. “That she did.”
“So?”
“So, I’m in love.” He added detergent to the clothes.
“Well, it’s about damn time.” His mom came up next to him and hugged him. “What’s her story? She looks a little fragile.”
“She is. Mentally anyway. Physically she’s about as tough as nails.” Brandon shut the lid and turned the dial to fill the washer. He leaned back against it and crossed his arms. “She’s had a rough life. Real rough. But she’s a fighter. With a little help, she’ll be fine.”
“Family?”
“None.”
“Home?”
“Her uncle left her his house somewhere near San Francisco. She’s talking about selling it.”
“When’s the wedding, and when do I get my first grandbaby?”
“Mom,” he groaned. “I haven’t even proposed yet. And there won’t be any children even after I do. She can’t have kids, and she’s extremely sensitive about it.”
Alaskan Nights Page 14