She cast a sideways glance at Ken as he shifted the Jeep’s engine into overdrive and turned onto a bumpy dirt track. “Is it okay for us to be here?”
Ken nodded, steering onto a jutted track through a sparse forest of spindly pines, the only trees that grew at this altitude. “It’s mine,” he said with a shy smile. He shrugged. “It feels silly saying that about this.” He motioned with one hand at the grandeur surrounding them. “The indigenous people who lived here first don’t believe you can own a place, and I agree. But, according to the state of Colorado, everything from the county road on out belongs to me.”
It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. “It’s hard to believe this all belongs to one person.”
“All that time on the playing field in Kansas City paid off, I guess,” he said with a rueful smile. “I always loved it here. And now at least it will never be developed.”
“Why don’t you live up here?”
“Well, for one thing I don’t think the neighbors would like it.” He grinned, pointing up to where two large hawks wheeled high above. “Plus, I like my creature comforts, running water and electricity. The place in town is fine. I come up here and stay for a few days whenever I need some one-on-one time with God.”
She had never heard a man speak this way, and it was touching. Ken was a success by any measure, strong and in control. And yet he spoke plainly of God. Something, she realized, Porter Moross with his post-doctorate education would never humble himself to do.
She was unsure what to say, and settled on thanking him for bringing her.
“My pleasure,” he said with another smile. “It’s the best place I know to come and clear the cobwebs from my head. I’ve been coming up here to do that since I was a kid. The door’s always open, Alice. If you ever want to come here and rest your mind, the place is yours for as long as you want.”
Because there were a lot of things in her mind that needed sorting out. He didn’t say so, but Caroline sensed that was what he was thinking.
“You might even catch a fish or two while you’re at it,” he teased.
They drove past other grass tracks, little used by the look of them, and finally turned down one that would have been easy to miss except for a fallen log that was piled with rocks in the shape of a pyramid. This was a cairn, Ken explained, used by hikers to mark a trailhead.
The trees thinned out even more, and Caroline sensed they were about to enter an open space.
The Jeep bounced out onto a mesa.
Facing them was a vista unlike anything she had ever imagined. Straight ahead was a lake whose crystalline waters mirrored the sky above. Tiny waves lapped at a muddy shore, littered with boulders taller than Ken. Mounds of tall grass dipped and swayed in the breeze that was constant at this altitude. She traced a trickling sound to a granite cliff beyond the far shore, where a steady flow of rocks bounced onto a valley floor. She half expected to see a woolly mammoth lumber into view. The place was positively primeval.
She blinked, trying to take it all in. She had only seen views like this on calendars or travel posters. She let out a long, low breath. “Wow.”
Ken spoke in a hushed voice. “It’s my favorite place in this world.”
The setting demanded reverence. Caroline pulled her glasses off and tried to take it all in.
Ken got out and came around to the passenger side. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”
She stepped out into another world. The earth beneath her feet felt supercharged, practically bouncing under her weight with energy stored up from the birth of the mountain that, Ken explained, had been a relatively recent event in the earth’s history. The air was crisp, flavored with the scent of pine needles from the trees that seemed to start here and stretch into eternity. The slamming of the car door was out of place here, leaving Caroline to wonder how many animals were startled, watching their movements from hidden lairs. She inched the zipper high on her down parka and thrust her hands in the pockets, grateful for the wool mittens stashed inside.
After a few steps she lost her breath as the landscape tilted dizzily.
Ken placed a steadying arm around her waist. “Easy, Alice. Take a few deep breaths, slow and steady.”
For one giddy moment his face swam out of focus. Up close, he was more handsome than he was from several feet away. She allowed herself to lean on him, marveling at the feel of his arm and shoulder that were so formidable compared with Porter. She was helpless to do anything else until the dizzy spell passed. But the fluttery feeling inside her remained.
“It’s the altitude,” Ken explained, keeping his arm tight around her middle. “Just take it slow. Take deep breaths in through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Caroline did as she was told. She wasn’t in any position to argue, not with her heart hammering like it was trying to jump right out from inside her chest.
“Some people feel it more than others. It has nothing to do with physical fitness. Just take it easy till you get acclimated. I’ve got plenty of bottled water inside. That’ll help.”
Caroline nodded, yielding to the fact that her skull felt like it might bounce off her shoulders. She was glad for the warmth of Ken’s hand around hers as she took a few steps, very aware that she was intruding on a vast wilderness that could easily swallow her up without a trace.
Ken steered her to a small cabin tucked just inside the tree line.
The place was tidy, built of hardwood logs with a small porch in front and a single great room inside. A pair of skylights in the ceiling provided natural light. Several stands of bunk beds sported striped wool blankets in a sleeping alcove. Brightly colored Navajo rugs covered the broad oak plank floor. A large black iron stove stood in the center of the room with a pipe leading up to the ceiling. A corner of the room served as a spotless kitchenette, from which Ken now produced two bottles of spring water.
“Cheers,” he said, clinking his bottle against Caroline’s. “Here’s to the patron saint of trout.”
Caroline giggled, and couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on her face when she smiled. She took a long swig and looked around. The room was completely masculine and cozy at the same time.
“Have a seat while I get our gear,” Ken said.
She settled onto a Scandinavian-style settee with leather cushions. It had a comfortable feel, and a small ottoman that had seen its share of booted feet.
“I don’t get many female visitors up here,” Ken said, rummaging through a large closet that had been built into a corner of the room. He came out with a pair of polypropylene waders, long johns, and an oiled jacket. “These should fit,” he said, sizing her up.
They looked to be a perfect fit, and Caroline wondered who had worn them originally, his ex-wife or a girlfriend?
Ken must have read her mind. “Most of my clients are men, but every now and then I get some women. Last summer, I hosted an all-female editorial board,” he said, naming a popular women’s lifestyle magazine.
The explanation cheered Caroline more than she wanted to admit, a fact that made her blush. “Did they have a good time?”
Ken whooped. “Did they ever! They’re already booked for next year. Got myself a lifetime subscription to the magazine, too. Gus likes the recipes.”
Caroline giggled again, holding the waders at arm’s length. “Where is the, ummm…”
“Brace yourself, Alice,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “This is where the ‘roughing it’ part comes in.”
He led her through the back door to an outhouse in the woods. “I promise it’s better than you think. In fact, I’ve got an outdoor shower you’d love.”
She pictured herself in golden sunshine standing naked under a stream of sparkling water. The thought undammed something deep inside her and she felt it flow through her veins like sweet lava. She felt the heat in her cheeks and knew she must be blushing, and this only broadened Ken’s smile.
“I’ll be out front when you’re ready.”
<
br /> He was poring over the contents of a large tackle box in the back of the Jeep when Caroline shuffled across the grass, unused to walking in rubber overalls. He gave a low whistle like she was a contestant in a beauty pageant.
Despite feeling like some sort of sea monster, Caroline laughed. “Next up, talent contest.”
“I predict you’ll do well with a lure,” he said. Two fishing rods were propped against the open hatchback. “There’s no better way to spend a day than this, in my opinion.”
Caroline was worried there might be live worms involved, but a short time later she agreed with him. They were standing up to their thighs in the clearest water she had ever seen, watching thick brown trout dart along the bottom.
Ken was a towering presence at her side, positioning her hands on the rod while he taught her how to cast off. His strength flowed through his shoulders as he flicked the reel, sending the lure flying in a great arc before landing with a splash.
He stopped, his face close to hers.
She hardly dared to breathe and when she did she got a lung full of his clean scent. His arms brushed hers when he positioned her rod, one forearm steady and firm against the small of her back. Once he had the reel in place, he moved his arm away, and she felt his hand travel slowly across her waders.
The world stopped. There was no mistaking the reason now for the thumping inside her chest. She drew in a breath.
Ken felt it, too. His eyes met hers. She got a flash of what it would be like to be with him, watching him take his time with her the way he did everything. She had only ever been with Porter in bed in her adult life, and Porter’s touch was something she had grown to dread. So the desire that sprang up inside Caroline now caught her off guard.
Ken stood close enough that she need only signal him.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his open collar, and brought his face down close to hers.
She felt his breath on her cheek as the lids dropped low on his eyes, dark with want.
He took a breath in and looked in her eyes. Waiting.
Caroline’s stomach went soft inside like warm oatmeal. She licked her lips, her breath turning shallow. She was off balance, as though the lake bottom beneath her feet was lurching in another clash of tectonic plates. She reached a hand out to steady herself.
He took it and pulled her to him.
His chest felt like a wall of solid granite. One that was warm and yielding. He gathered her to him until the only thing between them was her forearm sliding up around his neck like it had taken on a life of its own.
She wanted him.
He lowered his face to hers and brushed her lips with his.
She closed her eyes. She felt his breath on her face, his warm solid feel against her from her feet all the way through her body, and this awakened a yearning in her that took away her balance and left her knees soft. It was so easy to yield to him, and she did. The lake bed stopped its careening then, and she lifted her lips to his.
They kissed, slow and soft but long enough to fill Caroline’s mouth with his. She was surprised by the depth of her emotions, and how good it felt.
After a moment he drew back and gauged her response with eyes that were soft now, dark and frank. “I think you’re special.”
She breathed in, feeling shaky, and looked away. “I…” she began. “It’s just…” Her voice trailed off to a whisper and she was surprised to feel hot tears sting her eyes, burning her throat.
Ken straightened up, but not before planting a soft kiss on the top of her cap. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Don’t explain. You don’t owe anybody anything.” Keeping one hand firmly on her elbow to steady her, he sorted out the fishing rods while Caroline dug a tissue from the pocket of her jeans.
He busied himself winding the lines while she dabbed at her eyes and tried to calm herself. He did not, Caroline noticed, stare at her and root around in her mind until he found the cause for her tears.
After a time, she risked a glance up at him. He was whistling something snappy while he tended to the lures.
He met her gaze and winked. “The thing I like about trout fishing,” he said, “is the fact that they don’t just swim up to the hook and ask to get caught. You have to be patient, wait till the time is right.”
Relief washed over her. He wasn’t going to press her for any explanations. Her breathing slowed to normal and she regained her footing.
“Okay now?” he said, studying the surface of the lake as though that was all that mattered.
But his jaw was working.
“Yeah.”
He cast off, sending his lure wheeling through the air in a perfect arc. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes, because even if they won’t bite you get to spend time here.” He looked at the sky, then back to his line as he reeled in, slow and steady and deliberate, taking his time.
The way he did everything, Caroline thought.
He gave her a quick glance and smiled. “Life is beautiful, Alice Stevens.”
Caroline nodded. She didn’t dare tell him what she really thought. That the way he wore life like a loose garment melted her heart and made her brave, like she could try again to have a normal relationship. She drew in another deep breath, fighting the urge to tell him everything. Ken Kincaid was as gentle and sweet inside as he was rugged on the outside. But Caroline didn’t dare allow herself to get close to him, or let any man view the pollution of her past. To do so now would only put Ken’s happiness in jeopardy.
She was overcome with sorrow for the doors that had slammed shut for her on the day long ago that she had chosen Porter.
Ken reeled in his line. “Don’t think they’re biting for me today. Let’s see how you do, Alice.” He positioned her rod expertly in her hands and raised it in alignment with her right shoulder. “Okay, cast off like I showed you.”
He watched Caroline’s line whirl through the air and splash into the lake. “Excellent!”
She reeled it in, slow and steady, dragging the lure across the surface.
“You’re a natural.”
They repeated the process until gradually any tension Caroline had felt disappeared, and for a while at least, she was able to forget her problems. She beamed.
“When you least expect it, there’s a fish out there with your name on it that’s ready to be caught. The thing to remember about trout, Alice, is they are not dumb,” Ken said, focusing on the lines. “They won’t get caught by just anybody. Trout are smarter than people give them credit for.”
His words echoed in her mind late that night as she watched clouds scuttle past the moon from her bed, thinking about her life, the things she had done and the things she still wanted to do, find a small town and someday open an art gallery there and maybe even sell her own paintings. She also could not help but replay over and over the way Ken had looked at her today, the way his arms had felt around her, and the way she had felt when he kissed her.
CHAPTER 19
Porter started driving west the next day. He pulled over at a truck stop in Missouri to gas up. Inside the restrooms he splashed cold water on his face, which burned and itched with fatigue. He’d slept fitfully the night before, his last in the townhouse.
He bought a small pizza and a giant slush drink flavored with cola, and used it to wash down a handful of antihistamines.
The clerk with the bright red apron behind the counter took Porter’s money and said something.
Porter looked up from his wallet and frowned.
The young man flashed a wide smile. “I said, here’s your change and have a nice drive.”
Startled, Porter mumbled thanks. He gathered his purchases and walked away as the young man called after him.
“Hey, mister, you get a free package of chips with that.”
Porter kept walking. He found Midwesterners annoying.
He ate the soggy pizza as the miles rolled. He took Interstate 70, following the line he had highlighted in yellow on his atlas. A small tube
of lip balm rolled in the console between the seats. He opened it and saw smudges of coral lipstick on top. Caroline’s favorite color. He rubbed it across his mouth, erasing her imprint, and this small act gave him a feeling of satisfaction.
He spent the night in a motel at the edge of St. Louis. It was one of those places where you pulled the car right up to the room, like he had stayed in one time with his parents when he was very young. He remembered lying in one bed, cranky and carsick following a day in the backseat of their Ford LTD station wagon. His parents shared the other, watching muted images flicker from the TV screen while his father checked the sports scores. There were no more vacations after his mother left.
Motels made Porter mournful.
Porter parked the Saab outside the battered steel door and cinder-block walls of the St. Louis Sojourner Inn. Exhausted from his day on the road, his arms vibrated from the feel of the road beneath the wheels. But he was on schedule.
He opened the door to a tiny room that stank of cigarettes. The bored girl at the front desk had promised him a nonsmoking room. He propped the door open to air the place out, shivering in the chill night air.
The Saab was hanging low with a heavy load. The trunk was packed full. There was a printout of the file from Beltway Security Investigations containing the full dossier on Storm Pass and the people his wife was associating with. Shopping bags, full to bursting, with items purchased at the wilderness outfitter in the upscale pedestrian mall on M Street’s Potomac Canal. His valise, heavy with the weight of a Smith & Wesson .38 caliber semiautomatic pistol. A length of sturdy rope, should the need arise, and a gleaming red container of kerosene. A roll of heavy plastic sheeting and some blankets. Sterile syringes with rubber tubing and a small glass bottle containing Pavulon, a drug with which Dr. Porter Moross had more than a passing acquaintance.
Everything he needed for his fishing trip.
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