A Sister Would Know

by C. J. Carmichael

  “Nah, that’s okay.” He raised a hand in farewell, then shut himself into the second bedroom.

  “I have to keep reminding myself he’s growing up.” It almost seemed Amalie was talking to herself. “Next year he’ll be in junior high….”

  “Well, he’s a good kid. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble.”

  “I hope not, Grant. It’s just that…”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, now that Helena’s dead, there’s no way left to find out about his father. I wonder if he’s thought about that at all.”

  DAVIN STOOD BACK from his bedroom door, frowning at his aunt’s final words. She probably hadn’t realized he could hear her through the closed door. Was there any way they had heard him singing in the shower?

  He felt his face grow hot at the possibility. He’d been pretending he was one of the Backstreet Boys. Most guys his age didn’t like their music—at least they didn’t admit it at school. But he did.

  Could they have heard? No—the sound of the water would have been too loud. Reassured, he flicked on the light from the small bedside lamp Amalie had set up next to his sleeping bag and reached for the book he’d borrowed from Grant’s office. He tried to start reading where he’d left off, but the overheard conversation played back in his mind.

  His father. For a moment Davin tried to imagine what the man might look like. But all he saw was a dark silhouette.

  Sometimes he wondered what had been wrong with him that neither his real mother nor his father had wanted anything to do with him. He hadn’t been an ugly baby. He’d seen the pictures, and they seemed pretty cute, as far as he could tell.

  His aunt had told him his mother and father had been too young for the responsibility of raising a kid. Well, his aunt was exactly the same age as Helena. So why had she been able to take him, and not them?

  Sometimes, when he was younger, Davin had daydreamed about his father coming back into his life. But he hadn’t done it often, because he’d been scared that if his father did, he would take Davin away from Aunt Amalie.

  “That couldn’t happen, Davin,” his aunt had reassured him when he’d finally confessed his fears. He’d been about seven at the time.

  “I adopted you when you were born,” she said. “Legally, I am your mother.”

  Then why can’t I call you that? He asked his aunt all sorts of questions, but he was never brave enough to ask her that one. Maybe she was saving the name in case she got married and had real kids of her own.

  “AMALIE, WOULD YOU do me a favor and tell me what’s going on?”

  Grant was pacing her sister’s living room like a frustrated mountain lion. The image was disturbing, but thrilling, also. When she’d decided their relationship had to be curtailed, she hadn’t stopped to think he might have an opinion on the subject, too.

  “When I kiss you,” he stopped to say, “it feels like you enjoy it. When you look at me, I get the impression you like me. Yet every time we get closer, you pull back. I want to know—are you just not that interested? Or are you afraid?”

  She couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t interested. But it wasn’t fear that held her back; it was the knowledge of her own responsibilities. “I have a job in Toronto, Grant. Parents who need me, a child to raise. I warned you I wasn’t interested in a casual affair.”

  And yet, with his taste still on her mouth and the feel of his hands imprinted on her body, a casual affair held its own temptations. Just once, shouldn’t she have that experience?

  But “just once” was how mistakes were made. Mistakes that could have ramifications on the people who depended on her, like Davin and her parents.

  “And I told you from the start my feelings aren’t casual.”

  He couldn’t possibly know how he confused her when he said things like that! Amalie escaped to the kitchen, where she began to scrub down the already clean countertops. She heard Grant’s footsteps and, despite her anger, felt a thrill when she sensed him behind her.

  “Let’s give this thing between us a chance,” Grant said. “If it doesn’t work out, fine. But maybe it will.”

  With nail-biting anticipation, she sensed him drawing closer, felt his breath warm a spot on the back of her head. Just when she was sure he was about to kiss her there, she turned to face him, putting a hand to either side of his face to stop him.

  “I’m sorry, Grant, but don’t you see? There’s too much against us.” At that moment, though, it was hard to care. She’d never known a man like Grant. Strong, brave, unafraid of anything. The very fact that he was attracted to her made her will weaken almost as much as her legs.

  “And what about the things going for us?” His eyes burned with possessive heat. “Like the way we feel about each other.”

  She saw the faulty link in his reasoning. “And how do you feel about me, Grant? You practically hated my sister. In some corner of your mind, aren’t you afraid I’ll turn out to be more like her than you first thought?”

  For just a second his eyes shifted, and she knew the point was not moot.

  “You are, aren’t you? You worry that deep down, I’m just like Helena. That one day you might turn your head and find me dancing on the kitchen table, flaunting my body.”

  “What?”

  She could see that he’d heard the stories, too. She’d been shocked when Toby Ward had described her sister’s behavior. They’d run into each other at the library—the last place she would have expected to meet the outgoing bartender. Which only reminded her of the danger of judging people too quickly.

  Something everyone in this town had done to Helena.

  “Come on, Grant. I know you’ve heard about my sister’s…table dancing.”

  “And what does that have to do with you? Or with the way I feel?” His hands were on her face now, tilting it to meet his.

  “I—” Amalie didn’t know. Her thoughts were suddenly scattered.

  “Maybe you should dance on a kitchen table sometime, Amalie. Maybe it’s more fun than you think. Maybe you’d be darn good at it.”

  Somehow, somewhere, she’d taken the wrong tack. She wasn’t scaring him off. She was encouraging him.

  And this time when he kissed her, his need was all passion. Amalie caught her breath, then oxygen suddenly seemed irrelevant as he crushed his mouth to hers, lifting her body with his strong, capable arms.

  There was no way she could fight against this, any more than a tender tree could arrest an advancing brush fire. Giving in was her only option. And oh, what a part of heaven surrender turned out to be.

  Then the phone rang.

  GRANT TURNED AWAY from Amalie as she reached for the receiver. Grasping the counter with both hands, he hung his head, trying to master the passion that had made him go after her like that.

  He’d always viewed himself as a levelheaded guy. If Amalie said she wasn’t interested, then it made sense to back off. Not to kiss her like a lust-crazed Neanderthal.

  The really amazing thing, though, was that she’d kissed him with equal ardor. Talk about mixed messages.

  “That’s okay,” he heard her say over the phone. “I was hoping—”

  She’d told him she wasn’t involved with anyone. Yet jealousy flared when she glanced at him, then away, twisting so her back was to him, her words a little more muffled.

  He walked out of the room to give her privacy, curbing his curiosity by focusing on the promise he’d made earlier to check out the site where Helen and Ramsay had been killed.

  Another damn promise. He thought of the one he’d made to Denise, renewed today in front of Blaine’s Pizza Paradise. To find out how long Helen and Ramsey had been seeing each other.

  God, he was such a fool to have agreed to that one. How could he possibly win? No matter how long Ramsey had been conducting his affair, Denise would still feel hurt. He should have told her to forget about it, to remember Ramsey for the good times in their marriage, not this last foolish aberration.

  It would have been the right
thing to say, but no, he couldn’t bring himself to be so blunt. And Grant knew why. Women in distress always flustered him. Except, he realized suddenly, for Amalie. When she’d been upset earlier, he hadn’t felt uncomfortable at all. Just so sad for her.

  Realizing he’d been pacing again, Grant stopped by the living room window. Although he wasn’t trying to hear, Amalie’s voice traveled clearly from the other room.

  “No, really. It’s not too late. I’m glad you called.”

  He heard her hang up the phone.

  She came into the room with a weird expression, a combination of shock and disbelief.

  “That was my lawyer in Toronto,” she said. “They’ve traced my sister to an address in Seattle.”

  He went to her, cupped her shoulders. “Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure.” Amalie wavered slightly, and he tightened his grip. “There was someone else at that address. A man.”

  With one deep breath she pulled herself together, looked him square in the eyes.

  “I guess your friend Ramsey wasn’t the only one having an extramarital affair. My sister was married, too.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “HELEN WAS MARRIED,” Grant repeated slowly.

  Amalie waited as he mentally adjusted to the news. He would think even less of her sister now, and she couldn’t really blame him. It was bad enough that Helena had been seeing a married man. That she was married herself made it so much worse.

  Gently, Amalie slipped out from under Grant’s hands. Now it was she who paced the living room floor, struggling to assimilate all the lawyer had said.

  “I’m not sure I get it.” Grant appeared confused. “If she had a husband, what was she doing here alone? Were they separated?”

  “That part’s not very clear.” As if any part was. According to the lawyer, Helena had been married for three years. Three years! Surely at least once in that period she might have mentioned the guy. Let alone invited her family to the wedding.

  Oh, Helena! The gulf between her and her sister had never felt so wide.

  “Stand still for a minute.” Grant reached out, grasped hold of her arm. “You’ve got to calm down, Amalie.”

  If the phone hadn’t rung, we’d be making love right now….

  Amalie moved slightly, dislodging his hold on her. Maybe the timing of that phone call had been providential. After all, Davin was in the apartment. Sleeping in the room right next to them.

  Oh, what was happening to her? Was she losing all her judgment, her good sense?

  “What else did the lawyer say?” Grant asked.

  Amalie focused her thoughts. “Well, her husband’s name is Matthew Stanway.” Matthew. That was a good, solid name. But what was he really like? There had to be a reason Helen had run away from him.

  “What does Matthew do in Seattle?”

  “I’m not sure. He works in the computer industry. It seems he just got back from a two-week business trip in Europe. My lawyer had left a message on his machine, and he called right away.” She wrapped her arms around her chest and wondered about her sister’s husband. Did he know Helena had a twin sister? Parents who lived in Ontario?

  A son?

  “So were they separated?”

  She shrugged. “According to Matthew, he arrived home from work one day to find her and her car gone. A note stated she was leaving him, but she gave no explanation. They’d had no fights, no disagreements. He waited a week, figuring she’d probably return. But when she didn’t, he hired a private investigator to find her.”

  “Obviously, the investigator came up empty.”

  “Seems he started off on the wrong track. Matthew was certain Helena would have gone to Vancouver. She was a Canadian citizen and they had friends there.”

  From things the lawyer had said, Amalie had the impression that Matthew was quite wealthy. Which explained the jazzy sports car, the expensive jewelry. Thank God.

  “I wonder if he’s telling the whole story. It doesn’t seem reasonable that she would just up and take off unless something was wrong.”

  “I agree,” Amalie said. “And she was careful not to leave a trail—remember she didn’t use credit cards.”

  Amalie thought back over the past few months. That fissure of anxiety she’d felt in the weeks before Christmas must have been when her sister had left Stanway. But if Helena had been scared of him, if he’d been mean or abusive, wouldn’t Amalie have picked up on those negative vibes before Helena ran off?

  “Surely the police could have traced her to your parents and to you. I’m surprised you weren’t notified that your sister was missing.”

  “But the police were never involved. They told Stanway that since Helena had left of her own free will there was nothing they could do.”

  “If Matthew Stanway’s story is true, he must have gone through hell.”

  “We’ll have a chance to make our own assessment soon enough. Matthew intends to come to Revelstoke when Helena’s body is found.”

  Grant shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “Great.”

  “Grant, I want to go with you when you check out the avalanche site tomorrow.”

  “That isn’t a good idea. You know how much you hate being in the mountains. Why would you want to put yourself through that?”

  It was a good question, one she had no clear answer for. “Just once I have to go there.”

  “That’s nuts. You’re not a strong skier, and the terrain is difficult and crosses several large avalanche paths.”

  Amalie felt her courage falter. Everything he said was true. It wasn’t logical for a novice skier to purposefully go out in avalanche country.

  But she wouldn’t be alone. Grant would be there.

  “It’s something I have to do.”

  Grant’s expression was contemplative. “I wonder, if the situation were reversed, would Helen feel the same sense of obligation toward you?”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, Grant. When it comes to Helena, you’re so determined to see the worst in her.”

  “I see what’s before me, that’s all.”

  His hard line hurt, especially since she knew he had grounds for his opinions. That he was wrong was something she would have to prove. If possible.

  “I have to go, Grant.”

  “You’ll only slow me down. On my own I could get up and back in one day. With you along we’ll have to stay overnight at the hut where Ramsey and Helena…”

  “Please take me, Grant. I know you’re right—I’ll slow you down. But if I could see the place where she died, just once…I think it would help me believe she’s really gone.”

  Grant stared at her a long minute, gauging the measure of her determination. “I must be crazy to even consider—”

  “Yes!” She grabbed his arm.

  “You’ll need equipment. We’ll have to postpone the trip a day while we outfit you.”

  She didn’t like the idea of a delay. “Couldn’t I just make do with my rentals?”

  “No way. Amalie, this isn’t the Summit Trail we’ll be on. You need proper gear and I have to give you a little basic ski and safety instruction. After all, you’ve never used skins, although you have downhill-skied and that will help.”

  Skins? Since she didn’t know what he was talking about, she decided not to argue further. “When will we be able to leave?”

  “The day after tomorrow. Early.”

  Amalie decided she’d better be happy with that.

  OVERNIGHT THE WIND SHIFTED, bringing colder, drier air to the interior of the Selkirks. Grant could smell the change in the humidity when he awoke before dawn, on Tuesday morning.

  “Bloody cold,” he grumbled, abandoning his covers to shut the window he liked to keep open when he slept. The furnace, on a timer to kick in at 4:30 a.m., was already blasting hot air from the register. He placed his feet on the metal grating and let the heat travel up his legs.


  Amalie. These days most of his conscious thoughts revolved around her. Today, he had the happy prospect of spending hours with her, outfitting her for the trip and taking her on a trial run.

  The joy he felt, however, was a worry itself.

  “You’re being a fool, Thorlow. Setting yourself up for another fall.” Amalie had made it plain their relationship wasn’t going anywhere. Revelstoke was about the last place she’d want to settle, and he wasn’t prepared to move for any woman. Twice before he’d been tested on this, and each time had remained firm.

  Sometimes he thought about those women. Tory, who’d wanted him to relocate to Vancouver while she articled and studied for the bar. And Sandra, who’d worked for over a year on avalanche control, then had wanted him to explore the world with her. But he’d already done that—with his parents, then later as a young man before he’d settled into his present job.

  After each of the botched relationships he’d promised himself not to get involved with another woman unless she was as committed to these mountains, this place, as he was.

  So it didn’t make sense to fall head over heels for a cool blonde with a life anchored in Toronto—just about the last place he’d ever consider moving to in Canada. Especially when the blonde had a twin sister who’d caused more trouble in two months than most people created in a lifetime.

  Grant shuffled to the bathroom and faced his reflection. “You’re an idiot. Do you realize that?” He squeezed out a measure of toothpaste, which promptly fell off his toothbrush into the sink. Grant scooped it back onto the bristles and rinsed it under cold water.

  Last night Amalie couldn’t have been more clear. The relationship was going nowhere; she didn’t want to make love with him.

  Knowing that, he’d agreed to take her with him, to spend the night together at the Asulkan Hut.

  Spending the night with her, in separate sleeping bags, was going to be torture.

  Grant rinsed out his mouth, his toothbrush, then turned on the shower. Maybe they wouldn’t spend the night apart. Amalie was attracted to him; she hadn’t tried to deny it. With the two of them alone on the mountain, surely it was at least possible something might happen.