Which is what divided the natives from the visitors. True Alaskans loved the northern winter as much as they did the summer.
“Well, I’m not making any plans along those lines,” he said. “I’m not making any plans at all, come to that. I’m pretty much taking my life one day at a time.” He smiled at her. He had the best smile. It took away the serious demeanor his glasses gave him. “Live in the now, isn’t that the popular expression?”
“It’s a good idea, if you can do it.” She gulped the remainder of her coffee, pulled her boots on and stood. “I have to find some clean clothes and then I’ll see you at the lodge for breakfast.” She was out the door before he could reply.
At the window, Alex watched her sprint through the trees to her cabin. When she disappeared, he turned slowly, aware that as always, Ivy left a hollow space behind her. The room felt empty without her in it.
He poured himself another coffee and sat at the table, trying to figure out what he was feeling. Hungry, and not for food. Guilty? Reluctantly, he admitted it to himself.
He should have thought through the implications before they made love, not after. She was a wildly passionate woman, but it wasn’t only passion between them. In spite of their differences, there was a bond between them that wasn’t just sexual. He wanted to know her better. He wanted to confide in her, tell her things that didn’t much matter to anyone except him. He wanted, of all things, to meet Ivy’s mother, to learn for himself how her influence had shaped Ivy into the woman she was.
He felt a connection with Ivy he didn’t want to feel. Not here, not now. He was here on a journey of self-discovery. Feelings for Ivy would simply distract him. He finished the coffee and rinsed the cup in the sink, but he couldn’t clear his mind of Ivy as easily.
Or her father. Tom Pierce was a formidable force in his daughter’s life, and Alex knew that the older man would be relieved if he, like Roy Nolan, disappeared and was never heard from again.
Something had been niggling at him ever since his heated conversation with Tom the previous day. The whole time they’d talked, Alex sensed that Tom was hiding something, holding something back. What had really happened that early spring morning along the deserted highway? Could Tom have had something to do with Roy’s death?
Alex dismissed that as ridiculous. Pierce might be a prickly son of a bitch, but he wasn’t a murderer. He’d have had nothing to gain from murdering Roy, for one thing. It wasn’t as if Nolan had a wad of money, or anything else of value. His letters proved that he’d made the trip on a shoestring, leaving most of his money behind in an account for Linda.
And for him. Alex recognized that Nolan had tried, in some misguided fashion, to provide for them. It touched him, that Nolan had made that gesture.
But what had drawn the man so powerfully to this wild and beautiful country? What was he searching for as he walked into the wilderness? Self-discovery? Escape? Enlightenment?
Maybe all three. And what was prompting Alex to follow in his footsteps? Self-discovery. Escape. Enlightenment, whatever that might be.
Or death? It wasn’t the first time Alex had entertained that thought.
As a child and a young teen, he’d been stubborn, willful, reckless, and he’d been beaten severely for it. Steve, an autocratic man and a disciplinarian, used first a belt and then his fists, arousing in Alex a confusing combination of fury, a hunger to please and overwhelming resentment toward his brother and sister who were never treated the way he was.
Dmitri and Zelda had none of the conflicts with their father that Alex had, and he not so jokingly referred to himself as the bad seed. In his midteens, he’d turned to running as a way to release frustration, and he’d started winning races, the only thing about Alex that had ever pleased Steve. Alex and his stepfather had forged an uneasy truce at race meets. Steve supported him by buying him the best shoes, but his approval was conditional on winning. When Alex lost, Steve verbally berated him and finally Alex had had enough. After he graduated and went on to university, he severed ties with his family.
He resented his mother for not defending him in the conflicts with Steve. And he’d never been especially close to his brother and sister. Linda did her best to keep in touch, but Alex formed new relationships at school, finding an acceptance he’d never had at home.
But after he and Rebecca were married, she made a point of including his family in their lives whenever possible. Annie needed an extended family, she’d insisted.
Linda had doted on Annie, her first and still her only grandchild. Later, she, and Steve as well, had clumsily tried to console Alex when Annie died. He shut them out. He shut everyone out. His world had crumbled around him, and for some time he didn’t want to live. Oddly enough, it was Steve who suggested he start running again. He did, and gradually it helped.
Steve’s death six weeks before had been unexpected, and his mother’s revelation after the funeral had stunned Alex. It had also answered questions he’d had all his life about why he didn’t fit into his family, why he felt alien, why he and his father not only had nothing in common, but didn’t even like one another.
He was here in Alaska because for the first time in his life, he had an identity he could relate to, however nebulous. He had a hunger that bordered on neurosis to learn about this stranger who had willed him his genetic makeup. At first, he’d tried and failed to find any relatives in Canada who might give him a sense of the man. So he’d come here, to walk the labyrinth, follow in his father’s footsteps.
And he couldn’t let himself be distracted. Not by Ivy, not by anyone. He needed to put an end to the inner anguish that had held him captive since Annie’s death. And, if he was honest, even before that.
Unless he did, and until he did, he wasn’t whole.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I wish I could remember that poem you read to me once, about men being unwise and going to Samarkand.
From letters written by Roy Nolan,
April, 1972
ALL THAT DAY, doing her tourist patter, landing and taking off again, Ivy told herself she didn’t need Alex. Admiring the fishermen’s catch, loading the smelly men and their smelly fish into the floatplane, she repeated it like a mantra.
I don’t need Alex. So he’s good in bed, smart and funny, easy on the eyes. I like him fine, but I don’t need him.
Late that afternoon, she skimmed across the water in the Beaver and came to a stop right where she’d planned, a few feet from the dock in front of the lodge. She turned off the motor, secured the plane and then helped the fishermen off. As they wandered up, she and Oliver unloaded rain gear, fishing rods, empty lunch containers and foam coolers loaded with fish and ice into transportable plastic bins to take up. And the whole time she worked, Ivy realized she was listening for the sound of a hammer and glancing toward the newly framed cabins.
He wasn’t there, and he wasn’t at supper, either.
“Where’s Alex disappeared to?” Ivy hoped she sounded casual as she brought a tray of empty salad bowls back from the dining room and started ladling beef stew, mashed potatoes and gravy onto dinner plates. “I was kind of counting on him to help with dishes.”
“He’s gone with Bert to town.” Mavis spooned peas and carrots on each plate as Ivy handed them to her. “Bert came with the boat and they took off a couple hours ago.”
“Did Alex say when he’d be back?”
“Later tonight, was all he said.” Mavis finished the last plate and joined Ivy in loading them on serving trays. “I can see you’re sweet on him, honey. Saw you running like a rabbit from his cabin early this morning.”
Ivy felt herself turning magenta. She concentrated hard on the trays.
“Just take care of yourself. These guys from Away are here today, gone tomorrow.” Mavis pursed her mouth. “Mind you, all men are slippery buggers when it comes down to it.”
Ivy was still trying to figure out what part of that to address when Mavis added, “I never met a man who didn’t have a fata
l flaw, and that’s the truth.” She smacked a plate on the tray with more force than was necessary. “And Lord knows I’ve fallen for their blarney often enough myself.”
Ivy was flabbergasted. She’d never heard Mavis talk about men. She knew from Aunt Cait that Mavis had been married to a man from Seattle, and that the louse dumped her when she got burned, but that was all she’d ever heard of Mavis’s background, except that she and Caitlin had been friends from childhood.
“You sure he’s not married?” Mavis flopped the last plate down and studied Ivy. “Some of ’em will lie, you know.”
“He’s divorced.” Ivy was feeling defensive. “And that fatal flaw thing, Mavis? I know what you mean, but there are guys who don’t have it. Take Uncle Theo and Dad, for instance. They seem pretty stable to me.”
Mavis gave a telling grunt and turned away.
“What, you don’t think so?”
After a long moment, Mavis said, “You’re right, honey. Your uncle and your dad are exceptions. Now why don’t you get these out there while they’re still hot and people are still hungry.”
Later that night, Ivy thought over that conversation as she made her way to her cabin through the rain. The fatal flaw theory just wasn’t something she’d expected from Mavis. It hinted at depths she’d never suspected the other woman possessed. When Cait came home, she was going to ask her about Mavis. Working closely with her had been exasperating, but she’d always been fond of the eccentric little woman. Exactly how had she ended up a recluse here at Raven Lodge? Mavis went to town maybe twice a year. The rest of the time she stayed right here.
Through the sheets of rain teeming down, Ivy saw the copter sitting on its pad and felt a rush of affection. Planes represented freedom to her. She just wasn’t a person rooted to the ground.
She wasn’t a water person, either, and although she was competent at flying the Beaver, her heart belonged to the Bell. Tom had flown the copter back after supper, bringing Ben and Sage from Anchorage. Then he’d taken the float back to Valdez.
For Ivy it was also a huge relief to have her cousins back. They’d taken over the socializing part of the evening with the guests, making it possible for her to slip away early.
She looked over at Alex’s cabin, but it was dark and obviously deserted. Well, even if he’d been there, she wasn’t about to knock on his door again tonight. He’d pretty much made it plain that a one-night stand was all he was interested in. She had her pride, after all.
Damn men anyway. Mavis was probably right. Fatally flawed, every last one of them. She slammed the door on her cabin. Turning on the small lamp by the bed, she put a stack of cowboy ballads on her portable CD player and then knelt to shove paper and kindling into the heater. It wasn’t that cold, but it was clammy.
She opened the damper on the stove and lit it, hanging up her jacket and tugging off her track shoes as the kindling crackled and popped. She felt restless. Maybe a hot shower would calm her down.
She shucked off her clothes, turned up the music and stood under the hot water. Each cabin had only a small hot water tank, so she was darned well going to enjoy every last drop.
The tiny bathroom filled with steam and gradually the water ran cool. Ivy stepped out before it got frigid, toweled off and was wrapping herself in her bathrobe when Alex appeared in the bathroom doorway.
Startled, she let out a shriek.
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked and hollered, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” He had to raise his voice above the music still playing on the boom box.
He was near enough that she could smell the beer on his breath, although he didn’t appear to be drunk. There were raindrops on his glasses and in his hair. He reached out and touched her throat with the back of his fingers, and alarms went off in every nerve ending.
“What—what are you doing here, Alex?” Damn, now the man had her stammering. And asking stupid questions.
“I thought about you all day.” His voice was low and intense. “I just couldn’t get you out of my mind.” He cupped the back of her neck and drew her closer. “But I’ll leave if you say the word.”
As if it was likely she’d ask him to leave, the way her heart was acting. The way her body was turning liquid and her lips tingled. She ought to figure out which word he was talking about, but she knew she wasn’t going to use it anyway.
“I’m glad you’re here. Even though I ought to send you packing.” Ivy frowned at him, loving the feel of his hand at her neck, the way his eyes filled with heat when he looked at her.
He was definitely slow. It took him a full minute before he pulled her the rest of the way into his arms and traced her mouth with his tongue.
“You taste of beer,” she said a long while later. They were sprawled on her bunk, and he was half on top of her. His glasses were off and her robe was crumpled beneath her. The tie had come undone, and she was mostly naked. And he was taking full advantage of it.
“Sorry, I’ll go brush my teeth.” He pressed kisses on her throat. His hands were exploring her belly. And beyond.
Her voice was shaky. “Nope, I like beer on your breath. It’s sort of decadent.”
He laughed. “You’ve obviously led a sheltered life.”
“Not all that sheltered.” She dug in her bedside drawer and found the condoms she hadn’t needed the night before. She slid one on him and he groaned when she used her mouth to secure it.
“That’s going to do me in. Come back up here, let’s make this last.” He pulled her up, and his clever hands traveled down her body, fingers finding exactly where she was hot and wet and needy. She knew a rare experience when it came along, and making love with Alex was rare.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered in her ear.
You, I want you. “Surprise me,” she gasped.
He paused for a long moment and then, in a smooth, deep voice, he recited, “Under yonder beech tree, single on the green sward—” He paused when she giggled, giving her an affronted look and then taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, making her gasp.
“Be still and listen, Pierce. Couched with her arms beneath her golden head—” He took her wrists and trapped them above her head. She was giggling again, but there was also something wildly arousing about this.
“Knees and tresses folded, to slip and ripple idly—” He nudged her knees apart and slid slowly, excruciatingly slowly, inside her.
Ivy’s laughter stopped on a sudden intake of breath. She moved against him, but he stopped her with the weight of his body.
“Lies my young love sleeping in the shade.” His shaky whisper revealed the effort it took for him to finish the line. His breath came as hard as hers did. He moved in her, so slowly at first that she squirmed with frustration. And then, bodies joined, they rocked to ecstasy.
“Do you remember other poetry, or did you memorize that one just for the purposes of seduction?” Ivy felt deep contentment. Alex’s leg was over her thighs, one arm under her head, the other across her breasts. There were such advantages to bunk beds and not having much space. “Not that I need variety, you can go on using the same one. Works for me. I’m just curious.”
“I know lots more, and seduction had nothing to do with it. I used to recite poetry to myself when I was running. It took my mind off the pain in my lungs and legs.”
“Running? As in races? Or just garden variety jogging?”
“Running. Racing.”
“Do you run still?”
He nodded. “I haven’t since I got here, but normally, yes. At home I run every day.”
“Always have?”
“I had to learn to walk first.” He gave her a tiny teasing kiss on the shoulder. “I ran a lot when I was in high school. It kept me from murdering my stepfather.” He was quiet for a long moment. “That’s interesting, that’s the first time I’ve called him that without thinking about it.” He repeated slowly and deliberately, “My stepfather.”
“I take it you didn’t get
along with him?”
He snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. Finding out I’m not biologically related to him is a huge relief. I pretty much spent my youth rebelling against him, or trying desperately to please him.”
“And did you ever please him?”
He shrugged. “When I won races. So I ran like a maniac until I left home and went to university.”
“But he must have cared about you if he adopted you. He wanted you to believe he was your father.”
“Not because he cared for me.” There was resignation and more than a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Because he loved my mother.”
Ivy felt as if she was picking at a scab. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I just wish it hadn’t affected my relationship with my brother and sister. He never laid a hand on them. Although he was pretty much a strict, undemonstrative authority figure with all of us.”
He was quiet for a long time. “I relied on scholarships and a string of part-time jobs to go away to university. My mother insisted Steve pay for the first year—one of the only times she ever confronted him.”
“Did…did he lay a hand on her as well?”
“No. Just me. She used to say I provoked him.” His voice grew impatient. “Don’t get me wrong, Ivy, he wasn’t evil. I think he just didn’t know what to do with me. He certainly wasn’t the father I needed. Wanted.”
“I hear you.” She sighed. “I always longed to have Aunt Cait for my mother. But since Dad was her brother, that whole idea was fairly incestuous.”
Without looking, she knew he was smiling. “I guess nothing’s ever perfect.”
“This is perfect.” The words were out before she could stop them. “Being here with you like this.” She tensed, waiting to hear what he’d say.
“For me, too.” He yawned and pressed a kiss into her hair. “You want me to go now, or can I stay?”
“Stay.”
Past Lies Page 11