by Sandra Field
He talked on and on, telling her about his evening with Ramon and Rosita, describing what Ramon had said; and finding in the darkness the courage to express how he valued this friendship between two strong-minded men. He told her about Felipe, Constancia and Maria; he described Rosita’s fiery temperament and equally inflammatory enchiladas. And from there, he started to talk more fully about his childhood years with all their loneliness and fear.
But there had been more to Teal Lake than unhappiness, and Luke told her about that, too. The eagles that had arrived every September; the moose and deer in the woods, the shy black bears, and the mountain lion he had once sighted on a granite outcrop. Wild blueberries and raspberries, spruce gum, drinking from the clear streams of the backwoods, he described them all.
The nurses changed shifts. Someone brought him some very strong tea and a sugared doughnut. His cell phone rang twice, both times from the office with news of two crises, one in central Africa, the other in Malaysia. And still Luke talked.
Katrin was moving restlessly in the bed now, her cheeks hectically flushed. A doctor arrived, made noncommittal noises, and left. Intuitively Luke knew the medical staff was doing all that could be done; it was up to Katrin now.
It was up to him.
He got up from the chair for a few minutes, splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom, and stretched. Then he sat down again, taking both her hands in his, resting his cheek against her smooth skin. “Katrin,” he whispered, “you must get well. I need you.”
For the second time since he’d met her, tears stung his eyes. “I need you,” he repeated. And then Luke heard himself say the words he’d never believed he’d say to any woman. “I love you, Katrin.”
The words replayed in his mind, such simple words with such enormous portent. Then his heart leaped in his chest. Had her fingers moved ever so slightly? Or had he imagined it? Imagined it because he so desperately needed a sign of hope, a signal that at some level she was hearing him?
He raised his head, saying more strongly, “Katrin, I love you. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to figure it out, more sorry than I can say. But it’s true…I love you. I want you, I need you, you must get well so we can be together.”
In his pocket, his cell phone rang. He shut it off impatiently, all his attention on the woman lying in the bed. The woman he loved with all his heart.
Briefly he dropped his forehead to her hands again, his whole body suffused with this new knowledge, so inescapable, so full of the unknown. What would it mean to him? How could he possibly guess? She had to get better, so he could find out what it was like to love a woman. A woman who loved him back.
Perhaps, he thought humbly, he was about to embark on the greatest adventure of his life.
Again Luke focussed every ounce of his energy on Katrin and her struggle for life, willing her to feel his presence through the fever that claimed her. The seconds turned to minutes, to an hour. Then the doctor returned, asked Luke to leave the room, and within a few minutes came back out. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know what you did, but she’s over the hump…the fever’s broken. She should regain consciousness within the next few hours. Good work.”
He ambled off, an older man who looked as though, like Luke, he’d been up all night. Leaning against the wall, Luke watched him go. Katrin was going to recover. That’s what he’d said. She was going to be all right.
Luke sagged against the pale green paint, aware of a deep exhaustion in every fiber of his body. He’d never wanted anything—money, power, prestige—as much as he wanted Katrin to get well. Nor ever would.
He’d crossed a watershed in the last few hours. And there was no going back.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he went back in the room. The nurse smiled at him. “I’ll be leaving now that she’s over the worst.” She patted him on the sleeve. “Very good news.”
“Yes,” Luke said blankly, “it is. Thanks for everything you’ve done.”
“I think you did more than I did,” said the nurse, and left the room.
Luke sank down on the chair, not sure he had the energy to stand up. Katrin looked different, he gradually realized. Her cheeks were a softer pink, her breathing less labored. The doctor was right: she was going to recover.
For a long time Luke simply sat there, allowing simple gratitude to work its way through his tired mind. Eventually he reached in his pocket for the mints he kept there, knowing he should go to the cafeteria and eat something more substantial, yet reluctant to leave her. His hand bumped against his cell phone. When he turned it back on, it started to flash imperiously.
The crises, he learned as he listened to the messages from two of his senior assistants, had worsened. There was a strike in the mine in central Africa, and much worse, a serious accident in his new mine in Malaysia. Several miners were trapped, some feared dead.
Ever since the mining accident in Teal Lake that had killed eleven men the summer Luke was six, he’d had a dread of such occurrences; and, as an adult, a lasting sense of responsibility toward them. He should be there, he thought, on site. Making sure that everything that humanly could be done was being done.
But that meant he’d have to leave Katrin before she regained consciousness. Leave her without telling her to her face that he loved her.
He walked out of the room again, spoke to both his assistants, and then to the pilot at the Winnipeg airport. He delegated the strike, but he had to go to Malaysia himself. He’d always put the safety and well-being of his miners before profits, a stance that had sometimes gotten him in trouble with his stockholders. He couldn’t change that now. Honor was a very old-fashioned concept. But his honor was at stake here.
He could explain to Katrin. Surely, when she heard about the underground explosion and the trapped miners, she’d understand.
Quickly he scribbled a note to her, explaining what was going on. But then his pen stopped, digging into the paper. He could sign it love, Luke. Or he could just sign it Luke.
Luke, he wrote, and tore the paper from the pad. He wanted to say that word to her first, rather than write it. It was too basic to be scrawled on a scrap of paper and left at her bedside.
Back in the room, he put the note prominently on the stand that held her personal effects; he’d tell the nurses it was there, to make sure she got it. Then he leaned over, kissed Katrin’s blessedly cool cheek and said softly, “I’ll be back. I love you, Katrin. More than I can say.”
An hour later he was on his way to Malaysia.
The next day, from halfway around the world, Luke managed to speak to Katrin. She sounded very tired; she also sounded more distant than the miles between them warranted. He said clumsily, “Did you get my note?”
“Yes, I did.”
“It’s a waiting game here, Katrin. They’re tunneling through solid rock to get to the trapped men, I don’t feel I can leave until we know more.”
“Of course not.”
“You do understand?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, an indecipherable note in her voice.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m as weak as a newborn kitten. Otherwise fine. They’re saying I can go home tomorrow.”
“Already?”
“They need the bed for someone sicker than me.”
“Katrin, I—” Luke broke off. The words that had come so easily to his lips when she was lying there unconscious were now lodged somewhere in his larynx. Stuck like a fishbone.
I love you. Why couldn’t he say it? What kind of a man was he? It wasn’t that he no longer felt it, that wasn’t the issue. He longed to be with her, to touch her, hold her, pour out everything that was in his heart.
That was it. He needed to be face-to-face with her in order to say those three small, so important words. “Will Anna be able to look in on you when you’re back home?” he asked.
“I’m sure she will. Her mother’s feeling better already.”
“I wish to God I was there,” he exp
loded.
The line crackled. Katrin said nothing. Cursing himself for being so inept, Luke retreated to familiar territory, describing the situation at the pithead more fully. Then he said with sudden urgency, “I’ve got to go, the foreman’s signaling. Bye, Katrin, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I could be in transit tomorrow,” she said with that same daunting politeness. “Goodbye, Luke.”
The connection was broken. Luke shoved the phone in his pocket. Everything would be all right once he saw her.
He’d waited thirty-four years to say I love you. Another week wasn’t going to make any difference.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JUST over a week later Luke was on his way back to Winnipeg. They’d been able to rescue all but five of the miners. He’d stayed for the funerals, and to ensure that everything possible would be done for the families of the dead men. He hadn’t talked to Katrin for the last three days; she hadn’t been home and hadn’t responded to any of his messages.
He was desperate to see her.
Why hadn’t she gotten in touch with him?
He showered on the jet, changed into clean clothes and decided that the bush gear he’d been wearing for what felt like the whole time should probably be incinerated. He then shaved, avoiding the ugly gash in his cheek that he’d gotten at the mine face. After he’d eaten, he tried very hard to catch up on some sleep; but he was too wired to sleep. Until he was holding Katrin in his arms, he couldn’t relax or sleep. It was that simple.
Or that complicated.
The flight seemed to take forever. But finally, after three stopovers for refueling and customs, Luke was running down the steps toward the car waiting for him on the tarmac. He got in, consulted the map briefly, and headed north out of the city. He’d tried to reach Anna, when he’d been unsuccessful in talking to Katrin, but with no better luck.
He could be on a wild-goose chase. Maybe Katrin was no longer in Askja.
He should have told her on the phone that he loved her, should have forgotten all his scruples about being face-to-face with her. As far as she knew, he was still totally averse to falling in love, or to commitment of any kind.
He’d been a stupid jerk.
If she wasn’t in Askja, he thought grimly, he’d follow her to the ends of the earth. Because that, so he was learning, was what love was all about.
When Luke reached the little village, he went first to Katrin’s house. But when he banged on the side door and then rang the front doorbell, there was no response. Her car wasn’t parked in the driveway or in the run-down garage. Anxiety thrumming along his nerves, he drove to the resort. Katrin’s car wasn’t in the staff parking lot, either. He then traveled the length of the village to Anna’s house.
Anna was out in the garden, wearing a jacket against the cool knife of wind from the lake. Luke got out of the car and walked toward her. She watched him, unsmiling, her garden gloves caked with dirt. “Anna,” he said, “I know I’ve been behaving like a prize idiot. But if I can, I’ve come here to make amends. Katrin’s car’s gone. Do you know where she is?”
“She’s gone camping.”
“Where? Do you know?”
“After today, are you going to get in your car and drive away again?” Anna demanded. “Leaving her alone?”
“I want to marry her,” Luke said.
Of course he did. That’s why he’d come all this way.
“Oh.” Anna’s smile was quick and generous. “Well, then. She’s gone north of here. If you have a map, I can show you.”
She stripped off her muddy gloves, and traced the route Luke should take. “I didn’t want her to go. The nights are cold, and she’s still not quite back to normal. But you know Katrin, she can be very stubborn.”
“Like me,” Luke said wryly, folding the map so he could see the relevant section of the lakeshore. He then added with awkward sincerity, “Thank you, Anna. If Katrin will have me, I swear I’ll do my best to make her happy.”
“Start by persuading her to give up this camping foolishness. Or,” Anna’s smile was demure, “find a way of keeping her warm.”
Abruptly realizing that he liked Anna very much, Luke laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. Wish me luck.”
He then got in his car and drove north. The highway followed the shoreline, the lake sometimes hidden by trees, at other times stretching to the horizon with the dull gleam of pewter. It was going to be dark by the time he got there; he only hoped he could locate Katrin’s campsite.
He finally arrived at the little provincial park whose name Anna had given him. There was a map of all the campsites at the kiosk; but because it was late in the season, the kiosk was empty. A hand-printed sign asked him to choose his own campsite and pay in the morning.
Luke took a copy of the map and started driving along the narrow dirt road. Most of the sites were empty, although there were a few trailers lined up to one side. He followed the curve of the road, passed several empty sites, then saw Katrin’s car parked at the most secluded end of the campground. He parked in the next site, got out and locked his car. Doing up his jacket, he started down the little slope that led to the lake.
He halted briefly. Tucked in a small hollow, sheltered from the wind, was a green dome tent. He called Katrin’s name softly, not wanting to scare her, and walked up to it. It was then that he saw, down by the lakeshore, the flicker of flames. His shoes slipping on the pine needles, he walked closer, stopping so that he was partly hidden by the trunk of a tall pine.
Overhead the needled boughs of the pine and the golden leaves of poplars rustled secretively. Waves lapped on the stones. From deeper in the forest an owl hooted, rhythmically and repetitively. Then the hair rose on the back of Luke’s neck. Far across the lake a wolf howled, the prolonged and infinitely lonely voice of the wilderness.
Katrin was sitting on a boulder by the fire, her back to the lake. She was feeding twigs to the flames. She looked very unhappy. But more than unhappy, Luke decided slowly. The slump of her shoulders, the downward curve of her lips spoke of defeat.
Defeated? His strong and courageous Katrin?
Even as he watched, she stood up, turning to face the water. She was wearing a dark red fleece jacket, hiking boots on her feet, her hair in a thick braid down her back. She leaned against the trunk of a poplar, then suddenly bowed her head as though she were crying.
She never cried.
He couldn’t stand seeing her like this, so isolated and unhappy. Luke shuffled his feet in the underbrush, dislodging some rocks that skittered down the slope, and called out her name.
She whirled, staring upward beyond the circle of flame into the darkness. Swiping at her cheeks, she said sharply, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Luke,” he said, and loped down the slope toward her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I’m not frightened,” she said, standing very straight. “How did you find me here?”
“Anna told me where you were.”
“Some friend she is,” Katrin said bitterly. “Why don’t you turn right around and go back where you came from, Luke MacRae? After all, that’s what you do best.”
“I know you must think that. But—”
“I can’t bear you wandering in and out of my life like this!” she flared. “You were at the hospital, I know you were. But did you hang around long enough to talk to me once I’d regained consciousness? Oh no, you took off again. Because someone called you from work. After all, compared to a Malaysian mine, who am I? You know where your priorities are, and they sure don’t have my name on them. It’s not good enough, Luke, I won’t put myself through this over and over again. I won’t, do you hear me?”
“That’s all changed—”
He might just as well not have spoken. Her words tumbling over one another, she went on, “You don’t know how often I’ve regretted telling you I loved you. I’ve made some big mistakes in my life, Donald being one of them. But saying I’d fallen for you was even s
tupider than marrying Donald—it was a licence for you to walk all over me.”
Stung, Luke said, “I’ve never walked all over you!”
“Great-aunt Gudrun brought me up to believe in honesty. Well, Great-aunt Gudrun was wrong. There are times when saying what’s on your mind is a shortcut to disaster.”
Luke clenched his fists at his side. “Have you changed your mind?” he croaked. “Don’t you love me anymore?”
“That’s none of your business!”
Desperate to know the answer, Luke stepped out of the shadows and into the open, his face illumined by the orange glow of the flames. In a shocked voice Katrin said, “What happened to your face?”
He put a hand up to the scrape on his cheek; the bruise underlying it was now an ugly purple-yellow. “It’s nothing.”
“What happened? Tell me.”
“I went down in the mine with the rescue team,” Luke said impatiently. “I always do. There was a minor rockslide, that’s when I got hit. But we all got out with no trouble, and the next day they were able to break through and rescue the miners who were still alive.”
“You could have been killed,” she whispered.
“Well, I wasn’t.” Now that he’d started, he seemed unable to stop. “When I was six, there was an accident in the mine at Teal Lake, before it was unionized or there were proper safety measures. I’ve never forgotten it—my dad’s drinking got worse after that, and why not? So I feel responsible if ever there are accidents in the mines that I own. A few of the guys at the conferences laugh at me for that. But they’re laughing at the wrong man.”
“In so many ways, Teal Lake has made you what you are,” Katrin said slowly. “For better and for worse.”
“I went to the hospital the minute I heard you were ill,” Luke said violently. “I stayed the rest of the night and into the next day, until your fever broke and the doctors said you were going to be okay. I got the message about the mine explosion shortly after I got to the hospital. But I ignored it, Katrin. Until you were out of danger, I put you first. You’re the only woman I’ve ever done that for.”