Call of the Mountain

by Macgregor, Miriam

  But the next instant her irritation had turned

  towards herself. Stupid idiot, she thought. The mountain's magic couldn't stretch that far. It was Brett himself who made me start loving him—and who doesn't want me. Isn't he even making sure I get on the plane?

  But this did not happen as quickly as expected. Rain, low cloud and mist rolling in from the sea all combined to close the New Plymouth airport, and Lisa had no option but to accompany Brett and Catherine to the motel owned by their relatives.

  The two sisters, Susan and Sally, greeted them with delight, but explained to Catherine that their mother had extended her holiday by flying from Auckland to Fiji. They ushered them into a well-appointed seafront unit with two double bedrooms, and while Lisa and Catherine shared one, Brett settled himself into the other.

  They had a light lunch from the hamper prepared by Catherine, who then asked to be driven to the public library. Turning to Brett, she said, 'I know I can rely on you to take care of Lisa.'

  `Thank you for the confidence.' His tone was dry, his face inscrutable, nor did he glance at either of them.

  Lisa's heart sank as she sensed his reluctance, but she forced a smile as she said, 'Please don't worry about me. If the rain stops I'll go for a walk.

  A short time later they drove Catherine to the library, and as she left the car she declared she would find her own way home when she was ready. They watched as she entered the building, then Brett turned to Lisa, his eyes holding a strange brooding expression.

  `Well, what now? What would you like to do?' he asked abruptly.

  Startled, she looked at him blankly. `I—I don't know. The weather is against such places as the parks or—or the beaches.' She turned away from him. Why

  on earth had she mentioned the beach? It could only remind him of their previous episode on the sands that were as black as the shores encircling New Plymouth.

  What was it he'd said on that occasion? You have no need to fear for any further cause for complain from me. How could she tell him that she longed for him to want her, that it wouldn't be cause for complaint?

  He cut into her thoughts with an abrupt remark. `We'll visit the Cottage Museum. It's a good place for a wet day.'

  `Yes, that would be interesting.' Her smile hid her deep disappointment as she realised the Cottage Museum would have other people in it, whereas he could have taken her to a more secluded place. But apparently he had no wish to do so, not even on their last day together.

  They left the car in a nearby parking area and went into the cottage, which immediately enveloped them in an atmosphere of the past. Lisa was drawn towards the hearth of the wide open fireplace where heavy black cast-iron kettles, pots and oval boilers offered mute evidence of the type of cooking utensils used in earlier days.

  Brett pointed to a round squat object that stood on three legs. 'That's a camp oven,' he told her. 'It stands on the hot embers with more embers being piled on top of the lid. Catherine has one. If ever you come again you must ask her for a demonstration.'

  If ever I come again. The words gave her a lift, making her realise that at least he thought she might come again. They had the effect of making her feel happier, and as they slowly examined each exhibit in the cottage she became aware that relations between them had reached the stage of being pleasantly amicable.

  This state of easy friendship remained with them for the rest of the evening. Susan and Sally insisted that they all have dinner together, and during the meal

  Lisa was aware that Brett's eyes were constantly straying towards her. She knew she looked nice, because she had changed into her eye-catching dress of fine red wool and had taken extra care with her make-up.

  Nor was it easy to control her suppressed excitement when Brett later led her towards the area set aside for dancing. The floors of the combined rooms had been attended to, and coloured lights threw a soft mystic glow over the numerous indoor plants set between seats arranged round the walls.

  Other couples staying in the motel were there before them, moving to the haunting melody of a slow waltz, and as he took her in his arms Lisa feared he might become aware of the mad thudding of her heart.

  `Do you know you're very beautiful tonight, Lisa?' he murmured, his chin resting against her forehead.

  `Thank you—you're looking rather smart yourself. This is a lovely jacket.' She knew it was an inane remark and not at all what she wanted to say, but her mind was in a whirl as his arm held her against him and she felt the sinuous movement of his body sway in rhythm against her own.

  `I'm beginning to wonder why the hell I'm allowing you to go home,' he muttered huskily.

  Her head almost swam. 'Oh? You had—something in mind?' she dared to ask hopefully, then her pulses quickened as she waited for the words she longed to hear.

  He was silent, his only answer being to place both arms about her body and to hold her even closer to his breast as they danced.

  Still she waited patiently. Brett never did things in a hurry, she realised, and the words would be all the sweeter when they came.

  Was it possible that he did love her and was about to admit it at last? But memory of having previously reached this point niggled at her. For instance, there

  had been those moments on the beach when she had felt so sure he had been about to tell her—yet they had ended in anticlimax. However, she was conscious of something entirely different about these particular moments.

  The tempo of the music quickened to swing into the whirl of an old-fashioned waltz which sent them spinning round and round as he crushed her against his heart. His cheek against her forehead, she felt herself to be almost floating up into the clouds while her feet seemed to be hardly touching the floor.

  She also knew they were drawing glances from other people in the room, and she caught a glimpse of Mary watching them wide-eyed from the doorway where she stood beside a man. But Lisa didn't care. Sooner or later Mary would guess that Brett loved her and that they were about to become engaged. Or was this mere wishful thinking? she was jolted into asking herself.

  The music came to an abrupt end. Brett stood gazing down into her upturned face, a dazed expression in his eyes as though he had been dragged back to earth without warning. His arms were still about her as he said, 'Lisa—Lisa, that was wonderful! You're a great little dancer—why the devil haven't I taken you dancing before?'

  `I loved it, Brett—let's dance some more.' Her eyes shone.

  And then the spell was completely shattered by Mary's voice as she crossed the floor followed by the man who was with her.

  `Hey, break it up, you two—you look as if you're both in a trance!' Her face was glowing and her voice gay as she made the introductions. 'Brett, this is Peter Stevens—Peter, I want you to meet my brother Brett and—and our friend Lisa Longmore.'

  The two men shook hands, but for Lisa the magic atmosphere had been swept away by Mary and her new boy-friend. She had no option but to follow them

  I

  to the lounge where Brett and Peter fell into conversation, seeking mutual interests and getting to know each other. And worse still, Peter's hobby was mountain-climbing.

  Catherine was there too, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of Peter Stevens while plying him with subtle questions that would tell her whether or not he was a 'suitable' young man for Mary.

  As far as Lisa was concerned the evening had reached a state of anticlimax. She felt sick with disappointment, and, frustrated, she went to bed early. And there she shed tears into the pillow, until common sense prevailed and she began to think a little more clearly.

  How could she expect Brett to reveal his feelings with all those other people around them—or even whisper that he loved her? The dance floor had not been the place for such a declaration. And there was still tomorrow morning before she was due to catch the plane—weather permitting, of course.

  But next morning the sky had cleared, the airport was open, yet of Brett there was no sign.

  Cathe
rine said, 'He's driven into the country to interview one of his prospective employees. I'm sure he'll be back in time to take us to the airport.' Nevertheless she looked anxious.

  He was back in time, but with little to spare. Lisa's suitcases were dumped hurriedly into the boot of the Holden, and although the airport was only a short distance away there was need for speed.

  Lisa sat in the back seat with Catherine's flow of chatter wafting over her head. It was mainly about Mary and Peter, who were the last people she happened to be interested in during those last crucial moments with Brett.

  But what was the use? Obviously he didn't love her, and she had been lost in a pipe dream of her own making.

  A short time later she sat in the plane waiting for take-off. She was fighting her tears and as she peered through the window she had a view of the mountain's peak peeping through the clouds.

  You old fool! she muttered at it in silent disgust. You and your magic! It's a load of rubbish and nothing more.

  On Monday morning Lisa walked into Gordon Bishop's office and put the manuscript and photos on his desk.

  The sight of her brought a beam of delight to his face. `Ah, you're back! I was really afraid—' He flicked a rapid glance towards her left hand.

  Her blue eyes, slightly shadowed, met his squarely. `Yes? You were saying you were afraid. Of what, may I ask?'

  `I feared that Brett would have had something to say about your returning to Auckland,' he admitted abruptly.

  `If he had anything to say he kept it to himself,' said Lisa, unaware of the doleful note in her voice.

  His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at her. `You're all right? You're looking very pale. You're not your usual self.'

  `I'm quite well, thank you.' She wasn't, but she had no intention of going into details. She had hardly slept and found difficulty in swallowing her food, but she told herself she'd get over it.

  Gordon Bishop examined the manuscript, checking the number of pages. 'This appears to be a more reasonable size. Did you have much trouble with Catherine when you began cutting it down?'

  `None at all. She's a darling.'

  `And her stepson—is he also a darling?' The question came casually, but his eyes had a shrewd look within their depths.

  Lisa remained cool, refusing to be needled into an

  admission of any sort. 'Brett? He's very busy. He's recently bought a new property—and Mary is about to become engaged.' She passed off the information as family news.

  `Hmm. Well, your office is waiting for you, and there's this thing that's just come in. You can give it your attention.' He handed her a new manuscript.

  Lisa took it gratefully, thankful to see that it was about Westland in the South Island and had nothing at all to do with Taranaki. It would help clear that place from her mind, and, most important of all, it would stop Brett's face from dancing before her eyes. Or so she hoped.

  But it didn't. Thought of him continued to invade her mind until her work began to be affected from lack of concentration.

  Gordon Bishop frowned as he said, 'What the devil's the matter with you, Lisa? I've never known you make so many typing errors, to say nothing of some of these spelling mistakes. Your mind's not on your work, my girl. You'd better pull your socks up.'

  The reprimand jarred but did little to help matters, although she did her best to keep her eyes open for careless errors. And as the days passed she began to lose weight, the shadows about her eyes deepened, and the fine bone structure of her face became more prominent. The change made her look mature yet more beautiful.

  `Are you dieting?' Gordon snapped at her when she'd been back at work for a month.

  Lisa shook her head and hurried from his office, conscious that her work was still suffering in various places.

  Coupled with these problems was the even more irritating one of Paul Mason. On arrival at his new job he had been placed in the firm's Auckland office rather than on the North Shore, and from the moment of her return he had made a nuisance of himself.

  Each day when she left the office for lunch she found him waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. When she changed her lunch hour he searched until he found her in one of the nearby restaurants. At the end of each day he was there, pleading to be allowed to drive her home, but this she refused and hurried away to catch the bus that would take her to the North Shore.

  `I'm not giving up, Lisa,' he told her stubbornly on one occasion. 'I'll wear you down until you come back to me.'

  `So much for your promise to leave me alone!' she exclaimed angrily.

  `Oh, that. You can forget it. Things have changed.'

  `You're wasting your time, Paul,' she told him. 'And please don't send more flowers to the office. You might as well know I give them to other members of the staff.'

  Matters became worse when he began making visits to her office. Brief as these calls were, she was terrified Gordon would discover him wasting her time, and then there would be a further reprimand. Nor did he heed her pleas when she asked him to stay away.

  And then the day came when he walked into her room, closed the door and stood grinning at her. 'Hi there, gorgeous—you're coming out with me tonight, and I won't take no for an answer.'

  Lisa looked at him wearily. 'Oh? Who says so?'

  `I say so. Come on, Lisa—there's a staff dinner party and I must have a partner. Surely you could do me the favour—'

  `I'm sorry, Paul, you'll have to find somebody else. I'm feeling rather tired these days.' The thought of a dinner party when she could hardly eat the food placed before her at home made her feel ill. At the same time she realised that a social outing would probably help her—but not with Paul. She couldn't endure the thought of going out with Paul.

  He looked at her sceptically. 'Tired? You? That's a weak excuse. You've always been full of energy.'

  `Well, I'm not now. Nor am I going out with you. Please, Paul, would you just leave me alone?' Her voice held a ring of desperation that echoed her state of mind.

  His face took on a mutinous expression. 'For Pete's sake, snap out of it, Lisa—it's time you got over this stupidity of shutting me out in the cold! We've had good times together and we can have them again, if only you'd come to your senses.'

  `I'm sorry, Paul, I don't intend to argue with you.' She left her desk to cross the room and open the door. `Now, will you please go?' Her voice had become icy.

  `No, I'll be damned if I will!'

  A few strides took him to her and the next moment she was struggling against the strength of his arms. She gasped, hammering at his chest with clenched fists, but he only laughed at her weak efforts. Even so she was able to shout and call for help.

  To her relief the tussle was brief, because an unexpected force from behind Paul grabbed him by the collar and thrust him out into the passage that ran between the various offices. But it wasn't Gordon Bishop who had come to her aid—it was Brett who now stood scowling at Paul.

  `Can't you latch on to the fact that the lady doesn't want you?' he rasped.

  Paul glared at him. 'Oh, so you're the reason she won't come out with me tonight! I might've known you'd be in the picture somewhere. Okay, goodbye, Lisa,' he muttered as he made a hasty exit towards the stairs and past faces now peeping from other doors.

  Brett closed the door of Lisa's office and stood leaning against it, his arms folded across his chest as he drank in every detail of her appearance.

  She returned his gaze in silence, hardly daring to believe he was actually standing before her, and

  fearing he might vanish like a puff of smoke. 'Thank you for arriving at such a critical time,' she said at last. Her eyes, glowing with pleasure, looked larger than usual. 'Is Catherine with you?'

  He shook his head. 'No. I came alone.'

  `Oh.' She felt lost for words. 'She's well?'

  `Yes. I've left her in New Plymouth while I'm making this trip to Auckland.' His eyes seemed to be penetrating every part of her.

  `You have business
here?' Then as he nodded she added softly, 'I'm glad you've—you've found time to come and see me.'

  `I'm doing more than that. I've come to take you home.'

  Her jaw dropped slightly. `I—I don't understand

  `I've come to ask you to marry me. I love you very much, Lisa.'

  She looked at him in wonderment. Was she hearing correctly? `I—I beg your pardon? I almost thought you said

  `You heard me, Lisa. I said I'm asking you to marry me.

  A gasp escaped her and she took an involuntary step towards him, but he held up a restraining hand.

  `No, just stay over there. I want you to think about it clearly, rather than in the warmth of an embrace, though God knows I'm longing to hold you.'

  Her eyes shone. 'I don't have to think about it, Brett, I've known the answer for ages. Of course I'll marry you—I—I thought you'd never ask!'

  They met halfway across the room and she was in his arms, his lips on hers in a kiss that spoke of a love that would be everlasting. His hands ran possessively over her body and she sighed with utter contentment as he held her against him.

  `You're thinner,' he said, looking at her with concern. 'Why have you lost weight?'

  She ignored the question by asking another. Somehow it was important for her to know the answer. 'Brett, have you only just discovered you love me?'

  He shook his head. 'Of course not, my darling. I suspected it from the first moment of your arrival. It took time for me to admit to what had struck me—and then I was constantly bedevilled by nagging fears.'

  She rested against him, her arms about his waist as she waited to hear that these fears had now been swept from his mind.

  `You'll recall that at first I suspected you'd come in search of Paul?'

  Lisa gave a shaky laugh. 'How could I forget?'

  `I'd no sooner cleared my mind on that point than I woke up to the fact that Catherine had been up to her old matchmaking tactics. At first I was in a rage, but it soon passed because yet another fear had raised its head.'

  She looked up at him, her eyes full of questions. `What else could there have been?'

  `The fear that perhaps you were beginning to realise