Brynn slowly turned the pages of the wedding album, realizing that nearly a week had passed since she’d opened it. But after her experience a few days earlier with Matt at Plum Ridge, she needed the reinforcement, the connection to Gregory—especially since Frank’s call to the State Department that morning had again proved fruitless. Matt intended to fly to D.C. the next day, unwilling to wait for another phone call or fax. And action of any kind helped chase the sickly gray pallor from Frank’s face. He was visibly weakening more each day. When Brynn thought about telling the truth and leaving, she only had to look at him to know his health couldn’t take the blow.
Why was it that now when she looked at Gregory’s picture it was as though she stared at a stranger, someone she didn’t know beneath the glib smile and good looks? His eyes didn’t tell her anything.
Leafing through the album, Brynn felt as though she was looking at someone else’s photos. She could appreciate them, but they didn’t speak to her. And once they’d been the only voice in her silent life.
Closing her eyes, Brynn tried to remember the rush of exhilaration that always filled her when she studied the pictures. Not getting anything, instead she focused on remembering Gregory when she’d first met him on the jogging paths. That memory was slightly better, but still faint.
When had this happened? This feeling of distance? Could it just be because Gregory had now been gone for some time? That everything had changed, turned topsy-turvy? Was this a normal reaction that would have happened to anyone?
Or just anyone who’d been spending too much time with Matt MacKenzie?
Matt’s face was so much clearer in her mind. But then of course he was closer, too. It was probably some sort of transference, she told herself.
Remembering the look in his eyes when they’d been at Plum Ridge, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Her hand strayed toward her cheek, instantly remembering his touch, the warmth of it, and the explosion of feelings he’d ignited.
And she remembered the trail of awareness that had led to that moment on the ridge. It hadn’t been just one moment, one look. It had begun when she’d first met him. And it had been escalating ever since.
Brynn wished she had a fraction of Stephanie’s impetuous zest for life. To be capricious, daring, and unconcerned about the consequences. But Brynn had always been too practical for such impulsiveness. With a mother who often forgot who was the parent, Brynn had been forced to be responsible, older than her years.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and Brynn was glad for the distraction as she called out, “Come in.”
Heather poked a hesitant-looking face around the door. “Mom said I wasn’t to disturb you. Am I?”
“Of course not.” Brynn smiled. “Come on in.”
The girl slipped inside, leaving the door ajar.
Brynn started to close the album but Heather had spotted it. “Please don’t put it away. I’d like to see the pictures.”
“Certainly.” Brynn knew Heather was a sensitive girl and the entire family was worried about her withdrawal. With news of Gregory sporadic and infrequent, Heather had lost weight, paled, and grown far too quiet for a teenager. “I enjoy looking at them over and over, myself.”
Heather settled companionably at Brynn’s side. “They’re such beautiful pictures.” She sighed. “So romantic.” Her face and voice crumpled. “So tragic.”
“I don’t think so,” Brynn answered firmly, appalled at the girl’s dismay. “In fact I look at them in just the opposite way. They’re pictures of hope.”
Heather glanced up at her, her eyes welling with tears. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely.”
“Brynn...do you really think Gregory will come home?”
“Yes, Heather, I do.”
The girl sniffled as she let out a sigh of relief. “Mom said people who love somebody know—it’s in their hearts. I figured since you and Gregory are in love, you’re as close as two people can be. And that you must know his heart better than anybody, so if you think he’s safe, he must be.”
A pang of guilt struck Brynn—fierce, sharp and swift. She didn’t know Gregory’s heart, and to pretend to was a terrible sham. But she couldn’t crush this youngster’s hope by saying so. Instead, she repeated the belief she’d told herself: “He’ll come back. Gregory is always in charge wherever he goes. He’s not going to let a few kidnappers get the best of him.”
Heather digested this. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right. He never let anybody tell him what to do—not even Mom or Dad. I guess he did when he was little, but I wasn’t around then.”
Brynn hid her smile. “He’s a survivor—just hold on to that thought.”
“I will. I don’t think I’d be so worried, but Dad’s been so sick....” Her throat worked and tears threatened again. “I heard people talking and saying that Dad wouldn’t make it. Then when Gregory was kidnapped they said if he didn’t come back it would kill Dad. Then I’d lose them both.”
Brynn leaned over and wrapped her arms around the girl in a comforting manner. Brynn knew she’d wedged herself into an impossible situation. She shouldn’t be continuing this pretense, but unraveling the truth was just as impossible.
“You aren’t going to lose either of them, Heather. But you have to have faith in your father and Gregory. If you go around with a long, sad face you’ll worry your dad and you know that’s not good for him. And I’ve always heard that prisoners of war sense when people believe they’ll come home. They also sense when their families don’t have faith, which wears them down, keeps them from being as strong as they need to be. So, you can help them both—in very important ways.”
“I’ve felt like there’s nothing I could do, Brynn. Nothing that counted.”
“Everything you do counts,” Brynn answered softly. “You’re lucky to have such a close, loving family. Don’t ever feel you’re being disloyal to Gregory when you’re having fun. He’d want you to. He certainly wouldn’t want you going around with a long face. He’s going to pop in here one day soon and you don’t want him to see a bunch of gloomy gusses dragging around, do you?”
Heather smiled. “Gregory would say we were a frightful bore if we acted that way.” Her smile faded a bit. “How did you know I felt guilty about having fun?”
“I suspect someone said something to that effect, because you’ve changed since I first met you. It was after we got back here to the lodge.”
Heather nibbled on her lower lip. “Jenny was over when some of the kids came by to see if we wanted to go skating. Jenny said that we couldn’t go because of me—that if her brother was being held hostage she couldn’t enjoy herself, that she’d spend every single minute thinking about him.” Heather shrugged thin shoulders. “So I didn’t go, and the kids aren’t coming over much ’cause they don’t like being around me anymore.”
“I’m sure they still like you.” Gently Brynn tipped the girl’s chin upward. “Just let them know that you’d like to go skating or to a movie, drop some subtle hints about fun things going on here in the lodge, maybe even have some of the kids over for videos and pizza.”
“And you’re sure it’s okay for me to do that?”
“Positive. And when your dad and mom see you having fun, they’ll feel better. And you’ll be awfully glad you could make that happen.”
Heather threw her arms around Brynn. “I’m so glad you’re my sister! I always wished for a sister, and you’re better than anyone I could have dreamed up.”
Tears stung Brynn’s eyes. Touched, moved and nearly unnerved, she blinked away the telltale moisture. Too choked up to reply, she settled for smoothing Heather’s hair and wishing she truly was part of this special family.
Outside in the hall, Matt walked quietly away, leaving a copy of the latest fax about Gregory at Brynn’s door. As moved as the two inside by what he’d heard, he kept on walking, unwilling to let his brother’s wife know just how much.
MATT WATCHED ANDY, his youngest sibling, as A
ndy attacked a man-size stack of pancakes while reading the comics. It was funny, he thought, how different he and his brothers and sister were from each other. Gregory had always wanted something bigger and better; Heather was their sunshine girl; and Andy always took on every event, from eating breakfast to skiing, with the same single-minded diligence.
“Hey, Matt, you coming to my soccer game?”
“Sure, squirt. I’ve got to find out if my coaching works.”
Andy made a face. “You were all-state. Our coach doesn’t know half what you do.”
“Better not tell him that.”
Andy dug into the pancakes, unconcerned. “I already did.”
Matt couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Guess I’ll be real popular at the game.”
Andy shrugged. “Wish you were our coach anyway. Then we’d rule.”
Matt grinned. “Scary thought.”
Andy rolled his eyes and then looked back at the comics.
Ruth smiled between them, then clucked in a mock reproving tone. “Now, now, boys.”
But Andy was lifting the newspaper, his face filled with nine-year-old disgust. “Uck, I wonder how come Brynn’s making Stephanie act so weird.”
“Weird, how?” Ruth asked.
“She doesn’t do so much cool stuff.”
“She doesn’t?” Matt questioned, intrigued.
“Naw. She was always doing really awesome stuff, but now she’s...almost normal.”
Ruth laughed as Matt studied his brother. “She is?”
“Yeah. I liked it better when she was crazier.”
Patting her youngest son’s hand, Ruth smiled. “Brynn probably has a plan for Stephanie. No telling what she’ll be up to next.”
Andy brightened. “You think so?”
“I’m sure of it. Now, put it in gear or you’re going to be late for school.”
“Okay, Mom.” His chair scraped across the stone floor as he pushed it back, grabbing his baseball hat from the nearby coat-tree. “See ya.”
“Hold it!” Ruth called out. “Didn’t you forget something?”
Andy scooted around the table, planting a noisy kiss on Ruth’s cheek. “Can we have chocolate-chip cookies after school?”
“Con artist,” she replied, playfully tugging the brim of his cap down. “We’ll see.”
“Don’t forget the game, Matt,” Andy warned, scooping up his backpack.
“Scout’s honor,” Matt replied solemnly, holding up one hand.
A whirlwind of energy and movement, Andy was out of the dining room, then bounding down the path that led from the back door toward the shortcut he always took to school.
“Sometimes just watching him wears me out,” Ruth commented, pouring them both more coffee.
“Naw, he keeps you young.”
She peered at him over the rim of her cup. “You all do.”
Matt grinned back at her, glad to see this light side of her again. It had been too long. “We try.”
“When you were nine, you not only talked me into baking chocolate-chip cookies for yourself, but enough to sell since you had your own consignment in the gift shop.”
“I think you called me ‘enterprising,’ then.”
Ruth lifted her cup. “And I was right. You have wonderful plans for this place.”
“I just hope they don’t worry Dad too much.”
“He has confidence in you, but they are big changes.”
“And a big risk,” Matt admitted.
“We seldom gain anything without risk.”
Matt thought briefly of Brynn, then shoved the thought aside. Instead, he sought to keep his mother’s mood light. “Like your lottery tickets?”
She swatted at his hand. “Make fun. But one winning ticket would buy a lot of new ski-lift equipment.”
“Not to mention that cruise you’ve been waiting to take, a few diamonds, maybe a fur...”
“I can see you’re going to be impossible, so I’ll leave you to your own coffee.”
Matt wrapped his fingers around the mug, one side of his mouth tipping upward. “Better hurry if you’re going to get your tickets before the deadline.”
“A lot you know,” Ruth huffed. “They aren’t having the draw until Saturday.”
Matt’s grin was full-blown. “Wouldn’t want to wait till it’s too late.”
“For what?” Brynn asked, coming into the dining room and picking up a mug.
“To become instant millionaires,” Matt replied, noticing that her hair looked especially soft, and that the jeans she’d opted to wear still jarred his “alert” mechanism, reminding him of how she filled out a bathing suit. And now that he knew just what she looked like without her glasses, they were no longer a barrier to her beauty.
“Don’t pay him any mind, Brynn. When we’re rolling in our loot, he’ll change his tune.”
“You going to town, too?” Matt asked, looking at Brynn.
“Well, I—” Brynn began.
“Excellent idea!” Ruth exclaimed. “Why don’t you ride in with me, Brynn? Some of the girls are putting a quilt on today.”
Matt saw Brynn grimace at the idea. Deciding he ought to offer an escape since he’d thrown her into the jaws of a possible quilt frenzy, Matt spoke casually. “Unless Brynn would like to see the Alpine Slide close up. I have to check the fence on the terrace behind the slide this morning.”
Brynn grabbed at the lifeline. “That sounds really interesting.” She turned an apologetic face toward Ruth. “Not that the quilt doesn’t...”
Ruth waved her hands, dismissing the notion. “Young people don’t get very excited about quilts—and I can understand that. Come to think of it, I didn’t, either, when I was your age. Go on to the slide. We won’t have that many nice days left.”
Brynn looked between them. “It’s not time for winter yet.”
“Not down in the city, but we’ll be getting snow soon,” Ruth replied. “You can see we’ve already had snow up on the peaks. Takes a few storms before enough base builds up for skiing, and it’s time for them to begin.”
“I guess I didn’t think about that. It’s just so beautiful outside—the fall foliage, the Indian-summer sunshine—it’s hard to believe we’re in for storms.”
“You’ll believe it when you can’t leave the lodge for days unless you’re on a snowmobile or wearing snowshoes,” Matt told her. “Most people can’t stand the isolation.”
Brynn shrugged. “It sounds cozy. I love being snowbound in the city as long as I have wood for the fire, hot cocoa and plenty of marshmallows. It’s like I have my own little undisturbed world.”
Matt glanced at her in surprise. Most city people complained of cabin fever after only a few hours of immobility. An improbable arrow of jealousy nudged him as he wondered if Gregory had ever shared this little world with her.
Deciding he’d rather not know, Matt stood. “We’d better get going before Mom changes her mind and decides she needs someone to help her lug home all those lottery tickets.”
Rolling her eyes, Ruth caught Brynn’s gaze. “I’m not sure I should leave you to his mercies, but the slide area is beautiful this time of year. Try and enjoy.”
RUTH WAS RIGHT, BRYNN decided. The slide area was beautiful. Evergreen firs and wild grass provided a backdrop to splotches of crimson and gold, while pumpkin-colored patches of leaves that had surrendered to the ultimate advance of autumn danced across them.
As Brynn bent to inspect a delicate pink bell-like flower, she heard an eerie sound that echoed through the canyon. She glanced up at Matt.
He read her silent question. “Bugling elk. You hear them up in the high country this time of year.”
She nodded. “Like the herd we saw on Plum Ridge?”
Only the tic in his jaw revealed any reaction to that day. “Yes. But they’re coming down farther now. It seems like civilization but we’re surrounded by wild game—deer, wolves, moose, bears, wolverines.”
“No bunny rabbits?” she asked in a small voic
e.
He grinned. “A few. But Bugs and his friends don’t hang out in the mountains.”
“Too bad,” she replied, drawing herself in as though she expected to see a wolf or bear charge through the woods at any moment.
“Don’t worry. A lot of people come up here to the slide. All the activity keeps the animals away.”
“Uh-huh.”
He laughed. “I’m going up that hill to check the fencing.” Then he pointed toward some piles of leaves. “The maintenance staff has been raking here this morning, so you’re safe.”
Relief set in.
“The yard crew will be sacking the leaves before the kids can start jumping in them.” Matt spoke like the boss he was, authoritative and in charge. “So, in case you have any ideas—we don’t disturb the piles.”
His words chased away the relief, replacing it with a slow burn. He’d just implied that she wasn’t any more responsible than the kids.
Brynn brushed the dirt from her hands, ignoring the newly picked flowers as she watched Matt walk away. His tone of voice had unleashed an imp so strong that she wondered if Stephanie had climbed out of the frame of her comic strip.
She watched Matt scale the hill and disappear over the top toward the fence. Once he was out of sight, Brynn headed straight for the piles, many of the leaves having fallen recently, splashing their stalwart hues across the grass.
It was a riot of color so sumptuous that Brynn gave in to the urge nudging her—along with a desire to defy Matt’s high-handed words. Dropping onto a pile of crisp leaves, she rolled from side to side, kicking them into a small shower of color. The leaves scattered, then floated to the ground.
Standing, Brynn made sure Matt was still out of sight as she brushed away the leaves clinging to her jeans. Remembering how she and her grandmother had once played in the leaves, destroying neatly raked piles, then dancing in the flying fallout, Brynn closed her eyes, imitating those childish moves, inventing new ones.
Afraid Matt would be returning soon, she twirled once more, scuffing the leaves beneath her shoes. While on the one hand she enjoyed defying him, on the other she didn’t want to confirm that she was as irresponsible as he’d predicted. Leaves flew into the air. A sharp piquant memory of leaves burning was so clear she could smell the tang, hear the crackle—
The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie Page 12