Past Lies

by Bobby Hutchinson

  How revealing that he’d come back to reclaim, not her, but his damned vehicle. She would not, could not, let him see how deeply he’d hurt her. She couldn’t smile, but she didn’t cry, either. She was proud of herself for that.

  “Well, then, I guess this is goodbye, Alex. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. And that you get back safe from your expedition.” The tears she’d been holding back unexpectedly caught up with her, and she bolted for the door.

  He intercepted her. He put his arms around her and held her tight. She fought him at first, but he held on.

  “Ivy, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” he pleaded. “And don’t leave me this way, either. Don’t go rushing off before we really talk about it.”

  She couldn’t speak. She shook her head and struggled, but his arms only tightened. “I keep wishing I’d met you under different circumstances, at a different time in my life,” he whispered. “I care about you, Ivy.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve loved being with you. You are so beautiful, in every way. I’ve never known a woman as strong and independent as you are.”

  Big deal. He was leaving anyway. She sniffed and tried for control, without too much luck. “Don’t…don’t give me that, Ladrovik. You were married to a cop, remember?” And being called strong and independent would have been funny if she wasn’t so miserable.

  She felt needy and miserable, and she hated feeling this way. She hated him for making her feel this way. Except she didn’t. She loved him, and she hated that, too.

  “I can’t promise you a damned thing,” he said, and now it was Alex who sounded angry.

  “Did—” Her throat closed. She swallowed and tried again. “Did I ever ask for promises?”

  He didn’t answer. She’d never felt as desperately lonely as she did right at this moment, held so tight and close she could feel his heart hammering behind his rib cage.

  She finally stepped back, out of his embrace. She had to salvage her pride, and if she stayed any longer she’d break down completely and do something horrible. Like beg. “I need to be alone for a while.”

  “I’ll see you later up at the lodge?”

  “Sure.” The lie was the only thing that came easy as she headed blindly out the door.

  ALEX TOOK A FEW STEPS after her, and then stopped. He knew he’d totally screwed up, but going after her now wouldn’t change anything, so what was the point? All the talking in the world wasn’t going to alter the outcome. It wasn’t as if he’d misled her. He’d been clear from the very beginning about what he was offering, and it sure as hell hadn’t been much.

  You never even took her on a proper date, Ladrovik. They’d both been way too busy, trying to keep ahead of things at the lodge. But he still wished they’d gone out somewhere, watched a movie, maybe danced a little. He could have borrowed a boat, taken her into town for a few hours.

  Instead, all they’d done was talk and argue and laugh and make love, mostly in this cabin. On that bunk. A sick emptiness filled him when he thought about the loss of those nights, listening to her voice in the twilight, the smell of wood burning in the heater mixed with the tang of her eucalyptus soap. Her soft, steady breathing as she slept, curled up against him in the narrow bunk.

  But damn it all, it wasn’t his fault she’d fallen in love with him. It sure as hell wasn’t something he’d set out to accomplish. And right there was the real source of the anguish he felt, painful and acute.

  He’d never had to try with Ivy. Being with her was the most natural, easygoing, comfortable relationship he’d ever had. Which was exactly why he had to leave now, before…

  He was sweating, and the stove wasn’t even lit. He scrabbled through the drawer, looking for the running shorts and singlet he hadn’t used since coming to Valdez. Everyone had told him that running in the woods was dangerous, that the bears were coming out of hibernation, hungry and short-tempered.

  Bears, hell. He’d take his chances with bears over these feelings any day. He pulled his runners on and hurriedly laced them. He had to move, run, get this tightness out of his chest, get Ivy out of his mind.

  He went out the cabin door and headed for the rutted path that angled up the mountain. At first, it was tough, because he hadn’t run for weeks. It took a while to find the rhythm, the stride that would carry him long distances with minimal effort. Once he found it, Alex concentrated on breathing, on the movement of his arms, on the roughness of the terrain.

  It took a long time, and sweat was pouring off him before he decided that he wasn’t thinking of Ivy at all.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  See you in August, Lindy. September at the latest.

  From letters written by Roy Nolan,

  April, 1972

  “WELL, THAT’S OVER. Alex just dumped me.” Ivy was over her tears and into outrage by the time she got to Sage’s house.

  Her friend was behind the computer, probably trying to catch up on the bookkeeping that she’d had to ignore for the past several weeks.

  “He what?” Sage flew over and wrapped her arms around Ivy. “Oh, sweetie, why? Did you guys have a fight?”

  “It wasn’t that.” Her voice was shaking, and Ivy didn’t even try to control it. “He’s leaving tomorrow to walk off into the stupid bush, and he made it plain that if and when he gets back, he’s heading straight south. After he picks up his beloved Jeep, of course. Oh, yeah, and if he can fit me in, he’ll come by and say hi. And he’ll be in touch. He made sure not to give me a phone number or anywhere I could reach him.”

  Sage’s eyes were wide, disbelief in her expression. “He didn’t really say that.”

  “Yeah, he did. Words to that effect, anyhow.”

  Sage was outraged. “The lowlife. The rat. Did you kick him hard in a vulnerable spot?” She took Ivy’s hand. “C’mon, I’ve got a big bar of dark chocolate and a quart of ice cream, let’s go down and indulge.”

  Ivy shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t. I feel sick. I’m going to skip supper.”

  “Are you going flying?” Sage knew her so well.

  Ivy shook her head. “With the price of gas, it’s just not practical to take the chopper back into town when I’ve got to pick up guests here in the morning. Oliver’s heading into Valdez in a boat with a couple of the tourists. They want to experience the local night life. I’m going with them. I really don’t want to have to see Alex again tonight.”

  “That I can understand. Want me to tell Caitlin for you?”

  “Oh, Sage, would you? I just can’t face telling Aunt Cait, not when this is Theo’s first night home. She’ll want to know why and, honestly, Sage, I just can’t get into it.”

  “No problem, hon. I’ll tell her for you. Is that big blond German guy going with Oliver?”

  “Hans? Probably.”

  “Good.” Sage’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll just accidentally let Alex know that.”

  “I doubt he’ll even ask. He’s got other, more important things on his mind.”

  “Oh, yeah? I wouldn’t bet on it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And everybody’s noticed that dazed and stupefied expression on his face at breakfast every morning.”

  “Everybody?” Ivy felt the color rise in her cheeks. “You and Mavis, yeah, but everybody?”

  “No secrets in this goldfish bowl.”

  “Oh, geez. And now they’ll all know he dumped me.”

  “Nope, because I’ll let it slip it’s the other way round. And between you and me, Ivy, I wouldn’t write him off quite yet. Sometimes guys take a while to figure out what it is they really want, they’re kind of backward that way.”

  “And I’m supposed to sit and wait while he mulls it over? I don’t think so. Ben didn’t ever do that to you, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t. We were on the same page, at least in the beginning.” There was a wistful note in Sage’s voice.

  “And you’re not now?”

  Sage hesitated. “We’re okay, we’re just going through a rough patch. Every
couple hits those now and then.”

  Like Ivy’s mother and father. She’d tell Sage about them, but not right now. One thing at a time.

  “Ben and I’ll get through it,” Sage said. “Just like you’ll get over this.”

  “God, I really hope so. Thanks for being such a great friend, Sage.”

  “It works both ways.”

  Ivy was trying not to cry again. “I’d better get down to the dock, Oliver’s liable to take off without me. Tell Aunt Cait I’ll get Dad to drop me back here early tomorrow morning so I can do the tour.”

  “I will.” Sage grabbed Ivy’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Have fun tonight. Put Ladrovik right out of your head.”

  “I intend to.” And she’d have a good time as well, Ivy resolved, as she hurried down to the dock. It had been a while since she’d gone out to dinner. It had been a while since she’d gone out anywhere, come to think of it.

  The German tourists—particularly Hans—were delighted when she agreed to join them at the Pipeline Club. Besides having great steaks and a half-decent lounge, they wanted to view for themselves the watering hole where Captain Hazelwood had his famous last drink before running the Exxon-Valdez aground.

  It wasn’t Ivy’s favorite place. Like most of Valdez’s natives, she was sick of hearing anything about Hazelwood. But tonight was a case of any port in a storm. She only half listened to their cheerful chatter as the boat slid through the water. Her mind was like a treadmill, going from her parents to Alex and back again.

  “I need to change, see you in an hour,” she promised when the boat docked at the Valdez wharf. She set off on foot and was fitting her key into the lock on her home in less than fifteen minutes.

  Her little house was warm and quiet. Normally, it gave her a sense of pride and peace to be here, in the home she’d created for herself, but today nothing felt right. She showered quickly, and without giving it much thought, pulled on a pair of black slacks and a white cashmere sweater from her bottom drawer. Jamming into her good cowboy boots and, with a gold chain Tom had given her for her twenty-first birthday, she grabbed her suede jacket and truck keys and locked the door after herself. By moving fast, she was sure she could put her mind on hold.

  She stopped by the office to tell Tom she needed a lift to the lodge in the morning, and was relieved when he wasn’t there. She left a note on Kisha’s desk for him and headed for the Pipeline Club.

  The tourists were already on their second or third pre-dinner drink. They made a great show of ordering her two cocktails so she’d catch up, and Ivy drank them quickly.

  But instead of numbing anything, the liquor made her feel worse about everything. They moved to the dining room and everyone ordered the steak that the Pipeline was famous for. Ivy cut it up and messed it around, but her stomach revolted at the idea of actually eating anything.

  There was a live band, country and western, and when the dinner plates were cleared away Hans bowed to her and held out a hand.

  “Would you dance with me, Ivy?”

  “Why not?” Ivy slipped into his arms. He was tall, taller than Alex.

  The song was a sad one, an old country ballad about lost love. Hans was solid, big and handsome in a typically blond, Germanic way. He was a good dancer, not madly inventive, but rhythmic. From the dinner conversation she knew he was also intelligent enough—he was a financier of some kind. He even might be sexy, if she could get her mind off Alex long enough to want to find out.

  “I would like to take you somewhere else, somewhere quiet, just the two of us,” he said in her ear. “You are such a beautiful woman, Ivy. I want to know you better.”

  “Thank you.” She could invite him home with her. She could take him to bed. Sex would distract her, keep her from thinking.

  Except that it wouldn’t. The song came to an end, and she extricated herself from his arms and gave Hans what she hoped was a smile.

  “I’m going to have to go now,” she told him. “There’s something I absolutely have to do.” Over everyone’s protests, Ivy put money on the table to cover her share of the bill. She pulled on her jacket and headed for the door.

  She’d thought she needed people and distraction, but what she really wanted was to be alone. Trying to stop herself from thinking about Alex was like the old joke about telling someone not to think about the Eiffel Tower.

  She was halfway home, passing her parents’ house, before she remembered that her father and mother were getting divorced. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten. She still felt rotten about it, but not as bad as she had earlier that day, before Alex gave her his prepared speech.

  It was amazing that what had seemed devastating to her that afternoon had now taken a back seat to something even worse. She turned the corner onto her street. Her father’s truck was in front of her house, and the lights were on in her kitchen. Ivy pulled up behind the other vehicle and sat for a moment before getting out.

  For the first time in her life, she absolutely didn’t want to see Tom. He’d never liked Alex, and although tonight she didn’t much like him herself, she still didn’t want to listen to Tom telling her she was better off without him. How perverse was that?

  Slowly, she made her way inside.

  Her father had made coffee. Ivy could smell it the moment she came in the door.

  “Hi, Dad.” She couldn’t take it out on him; he was as much a victim here as she was. He probably needed company tonight.

  She smiled. “I could sure use a cup of that.”

  Tom poured her a mug and sat across from her at the table.

  “I need to talk to you, Ivy.”

  If one more person said that to her today, she was going to scream. “Does it have to be tonight?”

  “I figure it does. It’s about your mother and me.”

  “Look, Dad, you don’t have to explain anything. I understand, honest.” She wanted a bath. She wanted to go to bed. She wanted to be alone. Why was that so difficult to accomplish? “Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight, okay? I know how you feel.” Better than he realized.

  Tom shook his head. “You don’t know, Ivy.” His work-worn hands were laced tight around the coffee cup, one on top of the other, and his knuckles were white. “I can’t let you go on blaming your mother for everything that’s wrong between us.”

  “Yeah? Well, that’s chivalrous of you, but I know her, remember?” Ivy’s tone was sharp because she was fast losing what little patience she had left.

  Tom cleared his throat. “I made mistakes, Ivy, and there’s no going back.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.” She stirred sugar into her coffee, praying it would give her the energy to get through this. “Please, Dad, can’t we talk about something else? I’m sick of going over this, and I’m really tired. I need to go to bed.” She shoved the coffee away. What was she thinking, caffeine and sugar when she probably wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway?

  “I had an affair.” Tom’s voice was shaking. “With Mavis. After Jacob died.”

  It took a moment for the unbelievable words to really sink in.

  “With Mavis?” She was too stunned to even feel anything. She was numb. For some time, she couldn’t even speak. Finally, she croaked, “You—you and—and Mavis?”

  He couldn’t look her in the eye. He nodded, head down, so she could see the bald spot on the crown of his head. “Yeah. See, we knew each other all our lives, long before I ever met your mother. Mavis was a good friend of Cait’s. They worked together at the hotel. She was a cute little thing…one thing led to another. There was an understanding between us that we’d get married someday. Then when I met Frances—” He shrugged and held out his hands, palms up.

  Ivy said in a whisper, “You dumped Mavis. For Mom.” Things she’d never understood slowly began to fall into place. The fact that Frances didn’t go to the lodge—maybe it wasn’t because she was jealous of Ivy’s relationship with Caitlin, as Ivy’d always believed. Maybe it was because Mavis was there.

/>   “Yeah.” Tom rubbed a weary hand across his face. “And then when we lost Jacob—I went a little nuts. More than a little. Frances was lost in a world of her own, I couldn’t reach her. I needed someone to talk to, and Mavis was there. I never intended to…I never thought I’d…but I was so lonely, Ivy. So bloody alone and lonely.” He sounded miserable and ordinarily, she’d have tripped over her feet rushing to his defense.

  Not now. She was trying to take it in, to make sense of it. Her mother had always seemed difficult and temperamental.

  Against her will, she began to imagine a woman who’d lost a child, who needed her husband perhaps more than she ever had—and was betrayed instead.

  Her father had turned to another woman. To Mavis. It was unbelievable. If anyone else had told Ivy this, she’d have called them a liar. Or laughed.

  She got up for a glass of water. Her hands were shaking. She took a gulp. With her back to her father, she said, “How—how long did it go on? With Mavis?”

  “About a year.”

  Ivy was shocked a second time. Weeks, she could maybe understand. Months, perhaps. But a year?

  She turned around and gave him a scathing look. “How could you, Dad? How could you do such a rotten thing?”

  Tom’s face was magenta. She could see the shame in his eyes. “I can’t explain it, Ivy. I won’t make excuses—there aren’t any to make. Frances found out and she’s never been able to forgive me. She changed after that.”

  “No kidding.” For the first time in her life, Ivy put herself in her mother’s place. “That’s when she got sick, right? That’s when the depression started?”

  Tom shook his head. “No. It started with Jacob. But this sure didn’t help.”

  “Why—why didn’t Mom ever tell me any of this?” But of course she could guess.

  Frances would never tell her daughter something shameful like this. Not about Tom. Not when Ivy idolized him. Her mother had never in any way tried to interfere with that relationship.