Bear of a Honeymoon

by Laurie Carter

  "It's unbelievable that all this could happen during one honeymoon," said Griff, with a wry grin.

  "Well, if Matt hadn't run off I wouldn't have been tooting around out there all by myself," I retorted, primly. "And nothing would have happened."

  This self-righteous pronouncement brought on a bunch of laughs and more than one head-shake, until Tovey broke in with a thoughtful comment.

  "It seems strange to know that Shane and I passed you on the road just a little while before your accident," she said. "Kind of creepy."

  Liam stiffened at the mention of the young handyman's name. "He's the one who's creepy."

  "I thought I recognised you two," I said, breezing past the surly comment.

  Tovey bobbed her cayenne mane, obviously grateful for my diversionary tactic. "Yes. We stopped by his mom's place on the way to town for the early show. Mrs. Deeks isn't too well and Shane wanted to make sure she had a good dinner," she concluded, defensively.

  "Sounds like a good son," Belle offered.

  "Jailbird," Liam snarled.

  "Well, he's wonderful to his mom and Lynette," Tovey shot back.

  "And he's worried sick about their sister Franie, the one who ran off. He's got a lot of responsibilities."

  "Yeah," her boss sneered. "Joining a gang and doing time for auto theft, that's pretty responsible."

  "But Liam," Belle interjected, "the boy has no father. No one to help him or show him the way."

  "That's no excuse," said my husband, in dangerously subdued tones. I shot him a sidelong glance and just caught the shadow that crossed his face. It was the first time I'd heard him make even an oblique reference to his own father's absence. I wanted to reach for his hand and offer a sign of solidarity. But I knew the gesture would not be welcome and no one else had picked up on the subtle message. Their attention was focused on Liam who sat shaking his sandy mop and looking disgusted.

  "I just can't understand your interest," he was saying. "This guy is the absolute antithesis of everything you're working toward. He actually brags about hunting bears, wants to get two this spring. He showed me the licence. Practically gloated over it."

  "That's the point, Liam. Understanding. I want to understand how someone can feel so differently about these animals than I do."

  "Humph." Clearly Liam wasn't impressed with Tovey's line of reasoning. And I was beginning to suspect his concern went deeper than scientific interest or even employer-employee relations.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The party sort of fizzled after that. Vicky produced a sheaf of meal cheques and the group dispersed like chaff in the wind. Matt and I had come prepared for a lazy afternoon in the atrium. My fever was gone, but the cold still kept my ambition to a minimum and Mr. Train Derailment was a bit of a wreck himself. The giant hot tub and lounge chairs in the sunroom seemed just our speed. We split up at the dressing room doors with an agreement to rendezvous poolside.

  Matt decided on a swim before hitting the spa. I wasted no time on sideshows. Feeling light as a beached whale freed by the incoming tide, I slid into the steamy, swirling depths and closed my eyes. For a while there was nothing in my universe but the caress of tiny bubbles. They slid up my back and danced round my limbs, collecting all my aches and worldly cares and releasing them in a continuous seltzer fizz along the churning surface. It was heaven. I rested in quiet oblivion for several minutes until the sound of voices prompted me to open my eyes.

  I could see that Rachel Van Brennen had commandeered my husband's full attention as she preceded him up the steps at the shallow end of the pool. In a single fluid motion, bound to kindle the libido of any normal, healthy male, she unfastened the clip that bound her luxuriant, black hair. A one-two shake of her head set it free to fall across her shoulders in a shining cascade. She strode toward the spa with unconscious grace, water streaming from her flame-red Speedo. There wasn't a misplaced ounce anywhere on her body, I noticed with a pang. Not that I have any particular worries in that department. My shape is as good as it gets—for someone my age. But she had a good twelve or thirteen years on me and was obviously devoted to self-preservation.

  "Hi," she greeted me, in friendlier tones than she'd used in our previous encounters. "Mind if I hop in?"

  "Of course not," I replied, automatically moving over to give her space even though I was the only other occupant of the hot tub. Matt, completely forgotten for the moment, surprised me when he followed her in. He lowered himself into the tumbling water and slid along the bench until our bodies touched. Smart move, I thought to myself. You're forgiven. "Taking some time off?" I asked, to make conversation, wondering how she could manage a dip when everyone else seemed preoccupied with the imminent arrival of two new groups.

  "Lunch," she replied. "I work out instead of stuffing myself." Another pang, her comment an unwelcome reminder of my own gastronomic excesses. "What a good idea," I said, just managing not to grit my teeth.

  "It is, really. I needed some way to keep my mind off food. And I've actually reached a point where I look forward to the exercise. Every morning I do a circuit on the machines," she said, gesturing toward the impressive selection of up-to-date equipment. Brooke and Dan had spared no expense when they outfitted the gym area. "And lunches I swim. You might not believe it," she continued in a confidential aside, "but this time last year, I weighed almost two hundred pounds."

  It's a good thing we were up to our necks in the hot tub. Water's a good soft thing for a chin to land on. I think mine hit first. But Matt's wasn't far behind. Rachel seemed pleased. Pathetically pleased. And her reaction made me a believer. It was just the sort of response you might expect from a kid who grew up fat, then suddenly found herself wearing a body that shouted, "Ten!"

  "Brooke helped me," she said, into the stunned silence. "When I started here, there was hardly room for both of us behind the reception desk. I was amazed she even hired me. Most places won't put an elephant on display." Her tone had taken on a bitter edge and I felt sure that sad experience backed her words. "But I needed a job to earn enough to finish my business degree and I desperately wanted to work front desk. I'm going to own a hotel one day," she added with conviction. "Maybe not as grand as this. But it will be mine."

  "And Brooke gave you a chance," Matt said.

  "Yes, she did. I've learned such a lot working here." Listening to the fervour in Rachel's voice, I began to doubt my previous theories about her involvement with Max Edelman. Clearly my former roommate had made a profound impact.

  "I'm sure your association with the Craddock's will be a big help in the future," I said.

  "Oh probably. But I'm hedging my bet. You meet some very useful people here at the lodge," said Rachel Van Brennen, in a tone as sly and calculating as the look that hardened her face. The grateful changeling was gone, vanished as suddenly as she'd appeared. And the old Rachel, the impersonal, aloof professional, rose dripping from the water and walked purposefully toward the door.

  Matt and I exchanged a puzzled glance. "I didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or get fitted for a silver cross," he said, echoing my own confused sentiments.

  "Under the circumstances, though, you could hardly imagine her doing anything to hurt Brooke."

  Matt looked dubious. "That's obviously one very determined young woman. Anybody who can peel off seventy or eighty pounds in a year is a force to be reckoned with."

  "No argument. And Rachel clearly has another goal." I thought for a minute. "Kind of leaves you with the uncomfortable impression that she'd be only too willing to team up with Edelman if his scheme could somehow benefit her."

  Matt nodded gravely. "Too true."

  I slid deeper into the spa, rested my head against the rim, and let the swirling waters soothe my body—if not my spirit. Beyond the greenhouse walls, the scene was verdant and tranquil. Every effort had been made during construction of the lodge complex to disturb the natural landscape as little as possible. The entire view was park-like forest, even when I looked in t
he direction of the Playpen or toward the cabins and the lake. All the outbuildings were screened by stands of pine or fir, which meant that sitting in the atrium was like resting in a remote forest glade.

  I was lazily considering this very pleasant effect, when a gradual awareness began creeping over me. On the far left edge of my peripheral vision, something was out of place and I turned my head to see what might be amiss. For several seconds, I stared quite stupidly at a vertical grey-black jet trail rising straight from the treetops like a smutty chalk mark drawn across a pale blue slate. Its meaning continued to elude me until I realised the plume was getting thicker and was now predominantly black. In one horrifying instant, everything suddenly came clear.

  "There's a fire!" I shrieked, grabbing Matt's arm and pointing wildly as I struggled to get to my feet. "Down by the cabins. By our cabin!" I cried, then gasped as my shin crashed against the unyielding step. Wet fibreglass is treacherous when you're in a panic to move.

  A vice-grip closed on my arm and Matt unceremoniously propelled me onto the deck. We paused just long enough to jam on our shoes and snatch a couple of towels. The nearest door led to the womens' change room and we both charged through. At that point neither of us gave a thought for who might be offended. We raced for the lobby.

  "Oh shit," Matt gasped as we burst into the hall. His meaning was obvious. Every available square foot was occupied by one of the throng of milling new arrivals. Not a good place to shout: Fire!

  "I'll get to Brooke," I said urgently, "and try to speak to her quietly. You go for Dan." He nodded once and sprinted for the front door while I made for the desk. Heads began to turn, but that couldn't be helped. My hand was on the office doorknob when Jasmine charged up, glacier-faced.

  "Fire," she panted in a horse whisper. "Arbutus cottage."

  My stomach lurched, jolted by a mighty shot of adrenaline. "Tell Brooke," I commanded, already on the move. I ran the lobby gauntlet with only one thought in mind—Dudley and Nell—trapped in the burning cottage.

  In the driveway out front, startled government planners stopped short as they descended from their bus. Dan was hurtling down the stable path, shouting as he ran. "Shane! Claire! Walt!"

  The trio looked up in surprise at the urgency of his tone, dropped the luggage they'd been loading onto trolleys, and pelted over to meet him.

  "Fire at the cottages," I heard him call. "Claire, get your mom on the phone to the fire department. You two help me with the pumps."

  "It's Arbutus," I yelled over my shoulder. "And Brooke knows." I didn't stop for further discussion. There wasn't time. Blinded by tears and choking for breath, I dashed headlong toward the burning cabin. The air grew acrid with the smell of heavy smoke and a rain of tiny ash particles fluttered down. As I ran, I poured my soul into a silent prayer that things were not as bad as they seemed. That we weren't too late. That my little friends were still all right.

  Until I saw the cabin.

  Dense, black smoke seeped around the windows and billowed through fissures in the roof. Hungry flames devoured Brooke's perky plaid curtains and lapped at varnished walls. Searing heat rolled toward me in relentless waves. I felt the restraining pressure of two strong hands and found myself looking with surprise into the remarkably sympathetic face of Denise Pardue.

  "Matt's already trying," she said, giving me a little shake as if to ensure the words would penetrate. I regarded her dumbly for a moment then returned my gaze to the vision from hell. Smoke now added to the tearing in my eyes so that Matt first appeared as a blur in the heat shimmer. I hardly knew him. Apart from the small area covered by his swim shorts, his naked body gleamed with sweat, soot-smudges blackened his face, hands and torso, and his features were set in a grim mask.

  "I'm sorry, honey," he murmured, taking me in his arms. "When I met Dan on the path already coming from the stables, I ran here as fast as I could. But there was no hope. The whole inside's in flames."

  A sob tore loose from my tightly constricted throat. His embrace grew stronger and a comforting hand pulled my head to his chest. I buried my face there and let the sorrow flow. It took some minutes to regain enough composure to break away. "Did the smoke get them?" I managed to ask, clutching at straws. The thought of the two terrified creatures frantically trying to escape the relentless flames was more than I could bear.

  "No question," came the reply from an unexpected quarter. Denise was still standing by. She offered a tissue along with the assurance I desperately needed. I accepted both with gratitude.

  "You knew about Dudley and Nell?" I asked, needing something to say.

  "Sure. I saw you moving them in the other day. In fact, I was on my way to try and get them out when your husband ran by."

  "Thank you," I murmured.

  Denise looked the way I felt—awkward and miserable.

  "Matt, give us a hand." Dan's voice, strong and authoritative released us. He waved from the beach twenty metres away where his work party had assembled.

  "Keep an eye on her," my husband commanded Denise, then sprinted off. Normally, the implication that I needed looking after would have made me bristle. But I was not myself. And things were far from normal.

  Within moments others came pelting up the path behind us. Griff, Art, Adam, and some of the newcomers joined the group on the beach. In short order, they deployed hoses and set the diesel pumps to shooting streams of water at the fire.

  "Forget Arbutus," Dan shouted to the willing but inexperienced crews. The finality of his pronouncement brought a choking lump to my throat and I had to fight to regain control.

  "Wet down Hemlock," he directed, indicating Denise's cabin to the men on one hose. "You others, work on the surrounding bush. We've got to try and keep it from spreading."

  A gentle nudge reminded me of my keeper's presence and I responded numbly as she pulled me out of the way. Flames were shooting from Arbutus' roof, sending showers of sparks into the air, threatening everything they touched. If the professionals didn't arrive soon, I feared a great disaster was in the making. Then, as though summoned by my thoughts, the sound of heavy equipment rumbled down the trail. The volunteer fire fighters mobilised for combat.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Why don't you come away, dear?" said the familiar voice of Belle Fisk as a motherly hand touched my arm. When I looked around, I was surprised to see that she was not the only person who had arrived in the wake of the fire trucks. Jasmine was there, still pale and shaken. And Vicky. Claire was just hurrying down the path with her mother. The rest I didn't recognise.

  "No. I'd rather stay." Belle nodded in mute understanding.

  For a long time the little crowd watched in silence as the battle raged before us. When a section of the cabin roof finally collapsed, with a crash and a cloud of glowing sparks, the collective intake of breath could have been heard all the way back at the lodge. But no one said a word. It wasn't until even amateurs like us could see the fire would be contained that muted conversation broke out.

  "Wonder how it started?" I overheard an anonymous voice ask.

  "Careless smoking, maybe," someone speculated.

  "Or an appliance left on, like a curling iron overheating," suggested another.

  "Maybe a spark from the fireplace."

  "Could be faulty wiring."

  There were loads of possibilities. Some I knew were out of the question. Others could not be discounted. A quick glance in Brooke's direction told me what she thought. I tried to put an apology on my face. But she turned on her heel and stalked off before I could add a word. Oh heaven, I thought miserably. What else could go wrong for her? Even though only one cabin was lost, it still spelled financial trouble. Beyond the loss of revenue and replacement costs, there was the impact on this crowd of new guests. My head began to swim.

  Then suddenly I didn't care. Everything Brooke had lost could be replaced one way or another. My loss was permanent. Dudley was family. He'd been with me since I moved to the Coast. I'd collected him from the shelter
the week I settled into my apartment. He was like an anchor—in more ways than one—I thought ruefully, picturing his portly form spread possessively across the middle of my bed. But he was always there for me, always overjoyed to see me. He might twine himself between my legs as I struggled to cross the room or scold me loudly if he thought his supper was too slow in coming, but he was always there. Always company.

  In our cosy apartment, wherever I went, Dudley went too. If I lay soaking in the bath, he lay drowsing on the mat. When I settled down to watch TV, the Dudster was curled on my lap. And when I went to sleep at night, I could count on his furry bulk to crowd me off the bed. The idea of going home to that apartment without him, even though I now had Matt, seemed somehow quite impossible. And what of little Nell? She hadn't been with us long enough to stake such a claim on my heart. But the thought of her young life so cruelly ended was pain enough in itself. My only comfort was the sure knowledge that the Dudster was with her at the end.

  Perhaps my face was as stricken as my heart, for a familiar hand suddenly took hold of my arm and I found myself being propelled past the curious onlookers. "You need to get into some warmer clothes," Belle said firmly. "Are your things still up at the lodge?"

  At first, I didn't register what she was talking about, then I looked down and realized that I was wearing only my bathing suit with a towel pulled hastily around my shoulders. I nodded.

  "I'll get them," said Denise who proceeded to march determinedly up the path ahead of us.

  And before I really knew what was happening, Belle had me dressed and installed in a comfortable armchair in their cabin, sipping a double something. Probably brandy. I didn't much like it, but the warmth in my gut felt good. After a while, Matt arrived, announcing that he'd arranged a room for us. We'd stay the night, then leave first thing after breakfast. We thanked Belle and Art and walked silently toward the lodge. Fortunately, Matt was too exhausted for conversation because I couldn't think of a single thing to say.