Deep Haven [02] Tying the Knot

by Susan May Warren

  She refused to walk away from the girls—busy roasting marshmallows in the dying campfire—toward the moonlit shore with him. One too-kind word from him and she’d jump into his arms, and what would that do to her already tattered heart?

  She shuddered to know. If God were merciful, He’d send in her replacement before she felt totally wrung out. At first glance, it seemed God hadn’t been generous with mercy, but if she were honest, she’d admit to seeing some merciful moments.

  Like God surrounding her with a jeweled display of His majesty—the lush emerald evergreens hugging the shoreline, the sapphire blue of the Boundary Water lakes, and the golden sunshine in a perfect sky. Wildflowers perfumed the air. Even the absence of noise, the immense still that blanketed the night, ministered to her battered soul. Yes, God deserved the credit for bringing her here, and she owed Him that, even if He did play games with her heart.

  In fact, escaping the city had begun to give her a measure of perspective. Perhaps the hard moments in her life had been tempered by God’s touch more than she realized. Shelly, for example. The girl had nearly scared the socks off Anne when she’d first arrived, with her pierced eyebrow, her sullen pout, and the dark eyes that followed Anne like a wolf’s. But Anne had found a young woman with hope, dreams . . . potential beneath the dark accessories of her culture.

  And Noah. He’d certainly proved that first appearances deceived. Anne half smiled, remembering the beachcomber who’d fixed her car. God had been merciful in helping her realize that her first-glance hoodlum could be Prince Charming in disguise.

  A Prince Charming she couldn’t have.

  She swallowed a lump of misery and concentrated on keeping her canoe straight in the water. With her outstanding paddling skills, they were jagging all over Hungry Jack Lake, making a mockery of Noah’s ambitious plan. They’d spent over three hours yesterday, sorting paddles, lacing life jackets, and teaching the kids—and her—how to climb into a canoe without dumping.

  So much for not being wet. Her feet felt pruned and frozen in her soggy wool socks. She couldn’t wait to peel them off and dive into her clean, warm pair. Only three pairs of socks? What was Noah thinking?

  “Anne, hurry up!” Katie waved with her paddle from fifty feet away.

  Anne grimaced and picked up her pace. “Sorry, Shelly,” she said as she splashed water on her bow woman. So she had some north-shore skills to cultivate. She enjoyed this more than dispensing medication and giving AIDs tests.

  Anne fell silent, the muscles in her back beginning to tire. The soft thump of the canoe dipping between the waves and the occasional scrape of paddle against aluminum hull accompanied Anne’s and Shelly’s labor. They drew alongside Chantee and Katie, who hooked their gunwale with a paddle and pulled them close. Juanita and Jasmine bumped against the other side. Anne noticed that Melinda and her group of girls were similarly hooked, bobbing ten feet away in a small island of canoes, packs, and people.

  “Have a drink.” Katie opened her water bottle and plunged it deep into the water.

  Anne gaped at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. Have you ever heard of bacteria? amoebas? disease?”

  “Relax, Anne. Hop off your medical horse for a moment. Look.” Katie opened a packet of pills and dropped one into her bottle. It dissolved in a second. “Purification tablets. They’ll kill the bad stuff.” She handed the bottle over.

  Anne peered inside and made a face at the littering of paramecia floating in their watery abode. “Uh, no thanks.”

  “Drink it. Trust me; you’ll be fine.”

  “There’s a big difference between trust and foolishness!”

  Katie laughed. “Sometimes trust is foolishness. I know it looks yucky, but it’s truly safe. Pure. Besides, you’re thirsty and this is all we’ve got, so get tough and drink it.”

  Anne closed her eyes and gulped down the water. It felt refreshingly delicious, wild, pure. “Hmm . . . not bad.”

  Katie reached for the bottle, her eyes twinkling. “God doesn’t make yucky stuff.”

  There was power in her words as her gaze tracked to Latisha and Shelly, to Chantee, Juanita, and Jasmine, then back to Anne. Anne couldn’t squelch her sudden admiration for this woman who loved these teenagers. The thought of investing her life into these rough-hewn treasures tugged at a place deep in Anne’s heart, and she had to take a deep breath to escape it. She smiled back at Katie and nodded, wishing she didn’t agree so much.

  Shelly had leaned back in her seat against a pack, soaking in the sun, and Katie’s paddlers were munching on their ration of gorp. The canoes bobbed, hooked together like rafts in the sea. “So, what’s with you and Noah?” Katie asked.

  Anne glanced at Shelly, Latisha, then back at Katie and frowned.

  Katie laughed. “C’mon. It’s not like we haven’t all noticed. The guy gets this sappy puppy-dog smile on his face when you walk into the room. He can barely sit still. And I saw you two looking cozy down by the campfire on more than one occasion.” Katie arched her eyebrows like a gossip queen. “Don’t tell me he isn’t your dream come true, either, because I’ve seen the way you watch him.” She frowned. “Except last night. You barely looked at him. What’s with that?”

  Anne glanced away. “I didn’t know we were such a subject of interest.”

  “Are you kidding? In a camp of budding hormones? You’re better than a soap opera!” She laughed; then her voice fell to a whisper. “For these kids, you’re setting an example.”

  Anne gulped. Super. She couldn’t bear to think she’d made him a laughingstock, especially in front of kids who had a warped concept of love and honor. More than anything, they needed to see that a man and a woman could be friends, treat each other with respect . . . even if they couldn’t be “together.”

  She fought the pinch of guilt. Noah had been trying so hard to treat her with kindness . . . she owed him honesty and a measure of warmth. At least until camp ended.

  When he would turn his back on her and exit her life.

  Anne managed a deep breath. If her life growing up amid drug pushers and gangbangers had taught her anything, it was to hold her head high and live above the current of her feelings. If she had to cede a small piece of her heart to honor Noah and his reputation, then she’d consider it a small price to pay for the gift of knowing a man who destroyed her prejudices and made her reach beyond her fears. At least for the summer.

  “Noah and I are just friends,” Anne said.

  Katie nodded, her eyes glowing, a smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, sure.”

  “No, really. He’s . . . a great guy . . .”

  Katie chuckled and shook her head. “Girlfriend, you’ve got it bad.”

  Anne wrinkled her nose at Katie in argument, but she couldn’t help but surrender to the younger woman’s words. Yes, she had it bad for the commando in the far-off canoe, so bad it felt like her heart took a nosedive into gravel every time he paddled by. She shrugged and smiled, agreeing.

  Katie held up her hand to high-five her. “I knew it. I just knew it!”

  Anne rolled her eyes, bouyed by Katie’s friendship. The girl reminded her of Sandra, and Anne suddenly missed the warmth of the hospital nurse. She’d have to drive into Deep Haven Municipal when they returned to remind herself of everything she gained by surrendering Noah. “Don’t get excited. It’s not going to go anywhere.”

  Katie scowled. “Why not? He’s loony over you, or haven’t you noticed the way his chin drags on the ground whenever you’re near?”

  Anne shook her head, suddenly somber. “No, really, Katie. It’s not going to work. It’s over.” She gave another shrug and fought the sudden sting of tears. “So, where are we going, anyway?” she asked, desperate to change the subject. She stretched her arms. Never had she felt so deliciously tired, so gloriously achy.

  Katie, obviously as sensitive as she was biblically astute, caught Anne’s deflection and played along. “See where the tree line vees over there?” Katie used her paddle as a giant pointe
r. “We’ll camp there tonight, then tomorrow climb the Stairway portage into Rose Lake. On the other side are some great climbing cliffs. I think Noah’s planning on making us climb the ‘wall of death.’” She winked at Anne.

  Anne smiled wearily.

  Oh, joy.

  Noah had set up a net of ropes, a belay system to rival Barnum and Bailey Circus. He surveyed his work in the late-afternoon sun, thrilled to be three days into the canoe trip without a major catastrophe. He thanked God every minute that He had seen fit to equip him with a caliber staff. Katie’s gentle words of caution had made him realize his folly. Overwhelming these kids might push them to the end of themselves . . . or it might get them killed.

  Let go and let God. That phrase drummed through his skull three days ago as he watched his boys drag the expensive canoes across the landing and listened to their comments—not necessarily enthusiastic—as they tottered into the boats and grabbed paddles.

  “No motors?”

  “Just hard work, pal.” Noah had grinned at Darrin as he checked his life preserver.

  Darrin responded with a grimace.

  They’d zigzagged across the lake and by nightfall had covered half a mile. Noah scrapped the last hope for a boundary-route canoe trip and decided to be thankful they made it across Bearskin Lake.

  Now, two lakes later, he had to admit that being overwhelmed and unscheduled might be a good place for him to be. Clutching faith like a lifeline, he had nothing but faith and his good equipment to keep him from plunging into the rocks below, as these campers would do tomorrow with the ropes that dangled over the cliffs. But faith was enough. God was enough. Knowing that put a song of joy in Noah’s weary heart.

  He checked his bowline knots one last time, then curled the ropes up to the tree and went in search of his soap and towel. Ten minutes down the trail, Partridge Falls called to him like a melody. He’d left Ross and Bucko with the troops at the campsite beneath the cliffs. Just up shore, a five-minute jog along the border hiking trail, Katie, Melinda, and Anne were setting up camp.

  He fought the sudden urge to trot down there and watch Anne tie her hammock to the trees. Something about the expanse of sky had begun to unleash the tension in their relationship. Perhaps simply being away from the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about, letting himself deny the fact that it was over, had duped him into believing he hadn’t fallen so terribly short of her expectations. That he might somehow be able to resurrect their wounded relationship. There was a God, after all. A big one, with the power to change lives . . . and hearts.

  Obviously the distance had buoyed Anne’s spirit as well, for the cold front from her general direction had blown north. She’d grinned at him this morning, a genuine here-comes-the-sun type of smile.

  Noah tossed his towel around his neck, hearing the falls ahead, already feeling the water splashing over his shoulders. He crunched along the path, stress swirling out of him with every step, every breath of fragranced air. Yes, this was God’s country, and anything could happen.

  He veered off the trail, which merged with the Stairway portage, and rounded the falls. He’d been anticipating swimming in Partridge Falls all summer. The tucked-away falls were deep enough for him to submerge to his chest, strong enough for him to revel in the rush of being pelted by a force greater than himself.

  He threw down his towel, stripped off his sweatshirt, and grabbed his soap. Stage one would be laundry—his T-shirt could use a good lathering, and backwoods fun meant he could do two tasks in one sitting. He climbed over the rocks and inched toward the falls.

  He was just dipping his foot into the water when he saw Anne sitting on a ledge behind the falls like a water nymph. Eyes closed, water running over her face, down her black T-shirt, and across her shorts, she reclined as if in a spa, oblivious to the world.

  He froze and started to back away. Despite her recent warming trend, she certainly wasn’t going to do a jig if he disturbed her shower . . . even if she bathed fully clothed in the middle of a very public wilderness.

  He started to climb out, slipped on the rock, and landed, backside first, with a splash. Water crested up his chest and stole his breath.

  “Noah?”

  He winced. “I was just leaving.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m done.”

  He watched as she moved through the falls. Her hair hung in thick auburn strands around her face, her hazel green eyes huge and gathering the sun, droplets of water hanging on her eyelashes and running off her chin. She stumbled near, one hand on the rock for balance. “You’ll love it,” she said, breathless.

  I already do. “How did you find this place?”

  “Katie told me about it, and . . . well, since I’ve been avoiding the morning-swim elective, I thought it was time for a shower.”

  When she smiled, his heart took flight. Did she have any idea that being near her made him want to burst into a song, to whoop and dance and unleash the bubble of joy building in his chest?

  He refused to pass the clear, do-not-cross line she’d drawn in her demeanor, however. Somehow, he kept his voice normal. “You’re doing great, by the way. A real trooper. I don’t know about the bugs, but I do know you’ve been wet and cold, and I appreciate your chutzpah. I just thought you should know.”

  Her smile faded and she looked away. “Thank you.”

  She appeared tiny and waiflike in those sopping wet clothes, so fragile the wind could knock her flat with a puff. “Are you doing laundry?”

  “What?” Her eyes were huge in her face, suddenly very, very green and swallowing him whole.

  “Your clothes. Didn’t you bring a swimsuit?”

  She looked at herself, as if for the first time she realized she was fully clothed. She paled. “No, I . . . uh . . .”

  “It’s okay. Actually, seriously, it’s a good idea. I’m going to do it too. Wash while you wear.” He laughed, a chuckle that she didn’t mimic. He felt like an idiot standing there, laughing at her attire as if she didn’t look delightfully bedraggled and beautiful.

  Mercifully, she smiled, but the grin didn’t touch her eyes. “Oh, that’s funny.”

  Regret as big as Texas lodged in his throat as he realized he could never, ever win the woman he wanted.

  No, not just wanted, needed.

  She turned to climb out of the water. Taking with her the sunshine, the warmth—

  She slipped. With a cry Anne fell back, toward the pool.

  Noah reacted in a second and reached out for her. She landed in the net of his embrace. Instinctively, he tightened his grip. The cold water swirled around them, but he could stay in this place forever, turning into a prune, if only she would let him hold her. “Got ya,” he said softy.

  Then she began to cry. Oh, Lord, now what have I done? She turned around and curled into a ball right there in his arms, buried her beautiful soggy head into his chest, and sobbed her heart out.

  Noah was stone silent. He held her, as she totally unraveled. Was being near him so horrible it reduced her to tears? “Anne, honey. What’s the matter? Please.” He released her, tried to meet her eyes, but she refused to look up at him. “I’m sorry. Did I do something?”

  She shook her head. Then nodded, then shook her head again. She looked so wretched he couldn’t help but smile.

  “Please. You can trust me.” He cupped her chin in his hands and lifted her face to his. “Am I that scary?”

  Her eyes widened, and to his horror she nodded. His breath stilled. She was serious. She was afraid of him. His ex-con status not only repulsed her—it terrified her. He felt as if she’d kicked him—hard—right in the heart.

  As he let her go, he took her hand and helped her up to the shore. As she stood shivering, he wrapped his towel around her. She clutched it to her chest, looking bereft, dripping river water onto the ground.

  Twilight encircled them, sending droplets of lavender into the fine spray. The music of the evening had started a symphony.

  Her teeth began to chat
ter. He fought the impulse to envelop her in his arms.

  Because . . . she was afraid of him.

  Then she looked at him, her gorgeous eyes full of misery. She traced his face with her gaze, glanced at the tattoo on his arm, then bit her lip. He felt sick and wanted to race for his sweatshirt. At least then he could pretend he was someone else.

  “Noah, I owe you an explanation.”

  He blinked at her, managed to shake his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m the one who owes you. I dragged you into this mess—”

  “No, that’s not what this is about.” She propped precariously onto a boulder and motioned for him to join her. He gulped, reached for his sweatshirt, and wrestled it over his head. It pasted to his wet skin as he sat next to her, feeling somewhat less naked . . . as least on the outside. Their shoulders and knees bumped together, but he resisted the desire to put his arm around her.

  Because . . . she was afraid of him.

  “Noah, I’m so in love with you it hurts.” She blurted it, hard and fast.

  He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What? He didn’t know whether to gather her in his arms and dance or weep. “Huh?” With that intelligent reply he wanted to crawl under the rock from where he hailed.

  “I am.” Her voice turned soft. She looked at him, her eyes brimming with everything she’d just said, and he believed her to the marrow of his soul. She loved him.

  And she was afraid of him?

  He couldn’t get past the knot of confusion in his chest to reply. He managed another endearing, “Huh?” Way to charm her, Noah.

  She smiled, as if touched by his oh-so-witty charisma. “I’ve been fighting it since the day I met you. You are everything I hoped for and more, Noah. The man I wanted to build a life with.”

  Hoped. Wanted. His heart felt like it had been tossed in the air, then speared. His eyes must have betrayed his total lack of understanding because she smiled again, and this time she touched his cheek.