Not when Ivy idolized him. Coming on top of everything else, this was more than Ivy thought she could bear. She felt physically ill, on the verge of vomiting. “I want you to go now, please.”
“Ivy—” Tom got up and came toward her.
“No.” She held up a hand like a traffic cop, warning him off. “I don’t want to be around you right now.”
His shoulders slumped. “Honey, I’d do anything in my power to change the past.” His voice was despondent. “But I can’t. I have to live with it, and it eats away at me every single day. I love Frances, I always will. I’m losing her, I deserve that, but I don’t want to lose you, too. I love you, honey, more than I can say.”
She knew he was begging for forgiveness. She knew he was waiting for her to say that she loved him, too.
Of course, she did love him. But right at this moment, she didn’t respect him, and that was ripping her apart inside. She’d never dreamed him capable of anything like this. And like a ship hitting the tip of an iceberg, some of the things she’d thought about her mother all these years were beginning to tear through her consciousness. She’d been unkind to Frances, not overtly, perhaps, but certainly in her thoughts.
And in her actions as well, she admitted.
She’d judged her mother in so many ways, not just once, but uncountable times over the years.
To his credit, Tom had always defended Frances. But he’d never explained any of this to Ivy. Maybe when she was a teenager, it wouldn’t have been appropriate, but she’d been an adult for a long time.
When she didn’t say anything, Tom took his jacket and cap from the hooks by the door.
“You still want a lift out to the lodge in the morning?” His voice was subdued.
It was an effort to have to think about tourists and schedules. She tried to focus. “Yes, I do. I should leave here about seven.”
“I’ll have the plane ready when you get to the office. See you in the morning,” he said as he went out the door.
She went over and locked the door behind him, then slumped over, resting her head against the wood. What now? In the space of a few hours, her world had been turned upside down. She felt as if every ounce of energy had been sucked out of her. She wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and stay there.
Is this how her mother had felt?
Ivy turned out the lights and slowly made her way down the hallway. It was an effort to put one foot ahead of the other. In the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered why her face still looked the same as it had that morning.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tomorrow I’ll get what I need and set off into the bush. Everything’s mega expensive here. So I’ll take the bare minimum, I can live off the land.
From letters written by Roy Nolan,
April, 1972
THE NEXT MORNING, Tom landed the floatplane and taxied up to the dock at the lodge. Ivy hadn’t spoken to him, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept.
He sure as hell hadn’t. Admitting what he’d done had left one big open wound. When he got home, Frances had already gone to her room and closed the door. He poured himself a scotch and bolted it down, but after two more stiff ones, he felt worse instead of better. It didn’t stop him pouring another. So this morning he had a hangover.
“See you later,” he called as Ivy bailed out of the plane. She lifted a hand without looking at him and hurried along the dock and up the path, taking the stairs two at a time as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
He anchored the plane and followed her up, far more slowly. During the long and painful night, he’d gone over his life and decided he wasn’t nearly done with being honest.
Ivy loved Ladrovik, and there, too, Tom had left a great deal unsaid. He should have told the younger man the truth about his conversation long ago with Roy Nolan. He could have given Alex a real feeling for what his father was like, and he hadn’t, because that would’ve made him look bad.
Tom was going to do it now. He watched to make sure Ivy wasn’t heading for Ladrovik’s cabin, but she went around the back of the lodge, to the kitchen door.
Tom made his way to the cabin and banged on the door. He waited and, when there was no response, he opened it and stuck his head inside.
“Ladrovik?”
The bunk was stripped, cups were washed and in the drying rack beside the sink, the floor had been swept.
With a sense of foreboding, Tom turned toward the lodge.
“Morning, Tom.” Oliver was heading for the tool shed.
Tom didn’t bother with social niceties. “You happen to know where Ladrovik is?”
“Yeah, he packed up his gear and headed into town this morning on the boat—Grace had a doctor’s appointment. They left maybe an hour ago.”
Tom swallowed against the bile in his throat. “What sort of a pack did he take with him?”
“Just what he could carry—sleeping bag, rifle, survival stuff.”
“Do you know exactly where he planned to head off into the bush?”
Oliver shrugged. “Dunno. He had some kind of map, but I didn’t get a look at it. I think he left a copy with Theo, though.”
“Thanks.” With a growing sense of urgency, Tom headed for the lodge. Theo was sitting in the study, going over paperwork, a mug of coffee beside him. He smiled when Tom came in.
“Good to see you, Tom. Come and sit down.”
Trying not to let the shock of Theo’s frail appearance show in his expression, Tom shook his brother-in-law’s hand and awkwardly clasped his shoulder hard, telling him how good it was to have him out of the hospital and back at the helm.
“Want some coffee?” Theo gestured at a carafe on his desk. “It’s not the real stuff, they’ve got me on decaf. They changed my whole damned diet, even took my pipe away. I can’t have half the stuff I love anymore.”
“It’s worth it if it keeps you healthy,” Tom declared. The ache in his chest made him wonder if he wasn’t about to follow in the other man’s footsteps. He accepted the mug Theo handed him and sat in the armchair across from the desk, every muscle tense.
They talked for a few moments about family matters, but Tom had a hard time concentrating. Theo asked how Frances was, and Tom couldn’t bring himself to mention the divorce. Not yet. He would, he vowed—he was through with keeping secrets—but at this moment, he was afraid he’d break down.
As soon as it was politely possible, Tom asked about Alex.
Theo confirmed that Alex had left that morning, early. “He came over and said goodbye last night. I made sure he was well equipped and that he had a good rifle. He’s a fine young fellow, did a great job on those cabins while I was laid up. Wouldn’t take anything for the extra work he did for me, either.”
“Oliver said he might have left you a copy of the map he was planning to follow?”
“He did.” Theo took it out of the desk drawer and handed it to Tom. “I told him about the public use cabins in the Chugach Forest. Long as he sticks to that map, there’s several near his route. He ought to reach the first one in a couple, three days good walking.”
“Mind if I have a copy of this?”
“Go right ahead. Use the fax over there, make yourself a copy.”
As he did, Tom noticed that the public use cabins were all located on water routes and accessible by floatplane.
Theo watched him study the map. His voice was diffident when he said, “Tom, I don’t want to pry, but did Alex and Ivy have a falling out? I sure hope he played fair with her. I’d be very disappointed in him if he’s let her down.”
Tom had been too focused on his own conscience to even consider Ivy.
The weight of his responsibility grew even heavier. He knew Ivy was in love with Alex and he’d never interfered in his daughter’s private affairs before. But he’d never felt as antagonistic toward any of the men she’d dated, either. Even before he knew who Ladrovik was, Tom had resented him.
He was beginning
to understand why now. Frances was leaving him and he couldn’t face losing Ivy as well, even to someone she loved. He was a selfish, self-serving bastard.
“I hope he treated her well, but I guess that’s between them.” Tom was in no position to judge. His need to find Ladrovik wasn’t about Ivy, it was about his own guilty conscience—and the fact that he didn’t want Alex to add to the number of people reported missing in the state of Alaska—3,300 last year alone. He didn’t want him to disappear the way Roy Nolan had.
“So you’re not going to track him down and beat him senseless for walking out on her?” Theo made it sound like a joke, but there was more than a little concern underneath the banter.
“It’s not about Ivy, Theo. It’s about something I did a long time ago.”
He could see the puzzlement on Theo’s face. Much as it went against his reticent nature, Tom told him about that fateful morning he’d picked up a hitchhiker on the road to Anchorage.
“I didn’t tell Alex the truth, and I should have.”
Theo didn’t make judgments, and Tom was grateful to him for it. “So now you’re planning to track him down?”
“I’m going to try.”
“Does Ivy know you’re going after him?”
“Nope. I’d rather she didn’t.” Tom shook his head. This truth telling got complicated. One thing led straight to the next, and all of it was painful and humiliating. “She’s got enough on her plate right at the moment.” He forced the next words out. “Frances is leaving me. Ivy’s all torn up about it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Theo sounded sad but not surprised. Had he expected this? Tom wondered how much of life was ever the secret you believed it to be.
“She’s been offered a job in New York, helping run a modeling agency, teaching older models. She’s leaving in a couple weeks.” Saying it hurt so much he almost doubled over from it. “She and Ivy have been at loggerheads for a long time—you probably know that. I couldn’t let her blame Frances for this, so I told her about—” he cleared his throat “—about Mavis and me, what happened after my boy died.” He stopped and drew a shaky breath. “I had to tell Ivy, she needs to know it was my fault.”
“She’ll get over it.” Theo’s voice was soothing. “It’s always tough to find out your parents are only human. And don’t go taking all the responsibility for the problems in your marriage, Tom. There’s two of you involved.”
Tom wasn’t about to salve his conscience that way. “It was all me. I made a bad mistake. I’ve tried to make up for it over the years, but it’s sat there like a boil, and now I guess it’s reached a head and burst.”
“Then maybe it’ll heal. It was a long time ago.”
The sound of the copter taking off reverberated through the room, and Tom got up and went to the window. He couldn’t see the machine, but in his mind he flew it right along with Ivy.
“Weather’s closing in, there’s heavy rain in the long range forecast,” Theo said from behind him. “Snow in the upper regions.”
Tom nodded. Checking weather reports was second nature to a pilot.
“Ivy’s a strong girl, Tom, she’ll get through this.”
“Yeah, she will.” Tom had no doubt his girl would find a way to deal with it all, he knew the depths of her strength. But he also knew that nothing would ever be the same between them. He’d been a hero in Ivy’s eyes, and that was over. He’d seen it in the look she gave him last night. He’d been a hero once with Frances, too. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime. And if there’s anything I can do, you let me know.” Theo got up and took Tom’s hand in both of his, holding on tighter and longer than usual. Tom’s eyes smarted. His brother-in-law had become an old man in the past couple weeks.
They were both old men, come to that. “Thanks, Theo.” His damned eyes were damp, and he had to swallow hard against the lump in his throat. Besides being a prize asshole, he was getting soft in his old age.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
There’s all sorts of fantastic scenery in this town, but it’s been raining a lot. I’m pretty much living on beans and bacon.
From letters written by Roy Nolan,
April, 1972
ALEX POUNDED IN the last tent stake and dropped to the ground, puffing. He was bone tired. He’d thought he was in top-notch condition, but he’d revised that misconception long before he pitched his tent late that first afternoon. There were varying degrees of physical fitness, and today had convinced him he was a long way from the top of the pyramid.
He’d chosen a high patch of ground surrounded by birch trees to make camp and, after a couple minutes, he got up and gathered rocks to make a fire pit. There was no shortage of water; a stream burbled along a few hundred feet below. It was still broad daylight. He figured he’d hiked maybe fifteen miles that first day.
The going had been tougher than he could ever have imagined. The ground was marshy. He’d had to cross several beaver ponds, and the icy water had sapped his energy. Now, the temperature was dropping as night approached.
He draped his wet pants over a makeshift rack near the fire, glad that he had warm, dry gear to change into and a well-insulated mummy bag. He also had survival rations, and he lit his small stove and dropped one of the freeze-dried envelopes into a Billy can of water along with a handful of rice. It didn’t compare to Mavis’s meals, but that didn’t stop him from wolfing it down.
His father wouldn’t have had anything like this to eat. Roy would have had to fish or hunt, which took up a great deal of time. From the little Tom had said, Roy probably didn’t have a decent rifle, either, and certainly not a compact tent like Alex’s.
Many of the supplies Alex had bought at a climber’s specialty store in San Diego hadn’t been readily available in the early ‘70s, even if Nolan had had the money to buy them. Which he hadn’t, Alex knew from Roy’s journal. He’d made this trip on a shoestring.
The fire was soothing, and he propped his back against a log, soaking in the heat. It reminded him of evenings in the cabin with Ivy, heater going full blast, the two of them naked underneath the duvet. The memory brought regret, and loneliness.
She’d been in the back of his mind all day. Once, he’d heard a plane, and his heart swelled at the thought that it might be her. The sky was overcast, and he hadn’t been able to locate the plane. When the sound dwindled, he’d felt ridiculously abandoned.
That plane was the only sign of human contact he’d had all day, and he was beginning to sympathize a little more with Ivy’s strong feelings about people who headed off into the bush. They didn’t know what they were getting into, she insisted, and he had to admit she was right. He’d thought he was prepared, but one day had shown him he wasn’t.
The terrain he’d crossed that day was unbelievably rugged. He’d heard Oliver say that someone unfamiliar with Alaska could go a mile, two miles, from the lodge and never be seen again. Alex had thought that was a gross exaggeration. Now, he knew it was absolutely true.
He’d also heard Ben and the guides discussing end-of-the-roaders—the local name for people running from something, or seeking one last chance, dreamers and schemers and loners, and those with a death wish.
“If someone wants to drop off the face of the earth and never be heard from again, Alaska’s the place to do it,” Ben had concluded. “People simply vanish up here. Water accidents and drowning probably account for more than half of the thousands who go missing each year. In water as cold as this, bodies that sink stay sunk. They don’t decompose and float to the surface.”
Alex shuddered. So had Roy Nolan been an end-of-the-roader with a death wish? His letters didn’t indicate that, but Alex didn’t know enough about the stranger who was his biological father to know for sure. As for himself, it had only taken him a few hours this first day to figure out the answer.
He was neither. No end-of-the-roader, not a guy with a death wish. A fool, certainly, because he hadn’t known until he left how much he cared for Ivy. With e
very step he took away from her, the desire to go back to her intensified.
Several times during this long and difficult day, in fact, he’d seriously considered turning around. But he’d made a commitment, albeit to himself, and he was going to stick to it. Otherwise, it could someday come back to haunt him. But once the trip was over, once he’d followed as much of Nolan’s map as he could, he’d head back to Valdez. Back to Ivy. He had no idea yet what he’d say to her, but he had plenty of time to figure that out. First thing he’d do was apologize, that was a given.
He took the worn photo of Annie out of his pocket. Did Roy carry a photo of Linda? Or his newborn son? The letters didn’t say.
“Your old man’s not the brightest, kid.” His jaws ached from yawning. He tucked the snap back inside the zippered pocket on his windbreaker and banked the fire. He’d made it safely through the first day of his pilgrimage, and there was satisfaction in that.
As he zipped the sleeping bag around him he wondered if Roy had been as fortunate. Had he managed to stay alive even one day?
But Alex’s last thought before sleep claimed him wasn’t of Nolan or Linda—or even of Annie. It was Ivy. He wished he’d waited for her this morning. He ought to have told her goodbye.
HE HADN’T EVEN WAITED to say goodbye to her.
Ivy flew her clients as close as she dared to the bald eagles’ nests hidden in crags on the rocky mountain slopes. But her mind kept straying to the scene in the kitchen at the lodge earlier than morning.
Mavis was the one who’d told her Alex was gone.
“He came in to say goodbye before I even had the coffee made. I packed him up a lunch, some of these raisin scones you both like so much and a couple good thick ham sandwiches. Maybe I should have put rat poison in instead of butter?” she’d added with a questioning look at Ivy.
“Yeah.” Before, Ivy might have told Mavis everything, but her feelings toward the woman had changed. It was a challenge now, to treat Mavis the same as always.
Past Lies Page 15