by Kate Sweeney
“Wait a second. Is she gay?”
Cara winced again. She rubbed her forehead. “Yes, she is gay. What does that matter?”
“You’re staying at a home in the wilderness with her for ten days?”
“Give or take, yes. I have my own room.”
“With a lock,” Morgan added.
Cara hung her head. “I’m an adult. I hope you are, as well. I’ll call you in a few days. We’ll talk again then. Hopefully, without the yelling.”
“Fine. Good night.”
“And, Kim? I’m okay, by the way. I wasn’t in an accident or anything, thanks for asking. Good night.” She let out a deep breath and noticed she had a voice mail. It was from Linda, who called just to check in and hoped everything was going okay. She then tossed the phone in her purse.
“I’d ask if everything was okay, but the wild bug comment answered that question,” Morgan said.
Cara couldn’t help it. She started laughing. She sat on the couch, picking up her pheasant glass, which was empty; she sighed sadly.
Morgan jumped up and quickly went to the kitchen. When Cara heard the cork quietly pop, she laughed again. Morgan returned, pouring two more glasses, then retreated to her chair.
“I feel bad. I totally forgot to call her.” Cara took a nice healthy drink. “And as you heard, it was a heated conversation. She was irritated about the accommodations.”
“Oh, I see. If you want to stay at a hotel, we can work it out.”
“No. We’re adults. I’m here to do a job. If she can’t handle that, then she can’t handle it.”
“I know it’s disappointing to Kim, but—”
Cara held her hand up. “Can we forget it? I’ve had such a nice night.”
“Sure,” Morgan said kindly. “We need more wood. I’ll be right back.”
Cara stared at the fire. She felt bad about the wild bug comment. Kim had a right to be upset.
“Get your coat,” Morgan called out, grabbing her jacket.
“Why? Oh, God. We’re not flying somewhere in the dark, are we?”
“You need to see this.” Morgan found her jacket and helped her into it.
“What?”
“You’ll see. Take your wine.”
“I have no shoes.” Cara followed her to the back door.
Morgan laughed. “Oh, here. Wear these.” She bent down and helped Cara into the rubber boots.
“It’s not a moose, is it? Because I’ve seen one on National Geographic.” Cara held on to her shoulder, balancing her glass of wine. “Thanks.”
“You talk a lot.” Morgan was like a little kid. “C’mon. Hurry.” She grabbed a flashlight, slipping it into her pocket; she took Cara’s hand and dragged her out the door.
Cara laughed along with her, trying not to spill her wine and not knowing where in the world they were going.
Morgan took her to the pier. Then Cara looked into the night sky. The colors that waved across the sky were remarkable. White, blue, yellow streams lit up the sky.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Morgan guided her to the long bench on the pier. The lake was like glass. In the distance, a very far distance, she could see the neighbors’ lights on the shore. It was so quiet, then she heard the birds calling out on the lake.
“Loons,” Morgan said, sipping her wine as she looked at the sky.
“It’s so quiet.” Cara looked up, as well. “Does this happen every night?”
“Not at this time of year. That’s why I wanted you to see it. During the summer, they come out quite a bit. Amazing, eh?”
Cara found her Minnesota-ese charming; she tried to ignore that realization. “Yes, it is. Thank you. I needed this.”
“I figured you might.” She held up her glass.
Cara softly touched it. “Wine in a pheasant glass.”
“Snob.” Morgan laughed, bumping shoulders with her. “When I was a kid, my grandparents always had cocktails at five on Friday nights. My mom and Aunt Therese drank old-fashioneds, in the proper-sized pheasant glass, of course, and my dad and Uncle Jerry had their bourbon in these very glasses. I got a cherry Coke and used those old-time stirrers, with a tiny plastic whistle at the end. I used to play with them all the time.” Morgan shrugged. “Just a kid thing.”
Cara looked at her glass. “I’m very honored to be using it.”
“As you should be,” Morgan said, looking at the sky.
Cara took the quiet moment to regard Morgan. She didn’t look forty-eight. She had a strong profile with tiny lines at the edge of her eyes and mouth. Laugh lines, Cara thought. Her wavy unruly hair caused a lock or two to fall onto her forehead. She wanted to…
Okay, that’s enough. She took a healthy drink and looked at the sky once again. The northern lights were fading, but the loons’ haunting call remained, echoing over the lake.
“When we were kids,” Cara said, “my parents took us to Michigan on vacation once when we could afford it. There were loons on that lake too. I remember that.”
“How many kids in your family?”
“A younger brother and sister. My brother is a major in the Marines. Stationed in San Diego, which is where my mom is now. She had enough of the snow. My sister lives in Maryland with her family. She moved out there when her daughter got a volleyball scholarship to the university.”
“And you stayed in the Midwest. You don’t mind the winter?”
“No, I love the change of seasons. Don’t get me wrong. I go on vacation to visit my mom. San Diego is gorgeous, but it’s always sunny, and it’s always warm. A perpetual summer. It’s almost unreal. I’m probably exaggerating, but it feels like it to me.”
“I know what you mean. I can’t imagine living anywhere else but here. Cool and rainy in the spring, warm, sunny and thunderstorms in the summer. Then cool and crisp in the fall. And the amazing colors. It gets cold up here, no doubt about that, like Chicago. But you just hunker down and make sure you have plenty of firewood and your freezer is stocked.” She bumped Cara’s shoulder again. “And the wine rack is filled.”
Cara laughed. “Sounds like heaven.”
“It is to me. But I’m looking forward to seeing Chicago.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes, I am. Especially since I know I’ll be back here in a few days.”
Suddenly, and for some reason Cara could not explain, a feeling of disappointment wafted through her. She shivered uncontrollably.
“Hey,” Morgan said, standing. “You’re probably freezing. And it’s getting late.”
When she offered her hand, Cara hesitated for just a moment. Morgan’s warm hand surprised her.
“You are freezing,” Morgan said, rubbing her hands. “Let’s get you back to the fire.”
“Thanks for showing me this.”
Morgan smiled. “You’re very welcome, but don’t thank me.” She looked up at the night sky. “Best things in life are free. You just have to look around.”
They said nothing else on the way back to the house.
“Can I help?” Cara asked when Morgan put the bowls in the sink.
“Oh, no thanks. But if you wanted to take a bath or a shower, I’ll wait to use any hot water.”
“I’d love a hot bath.”
“Great. You go right ahead. I was serious before. I’d like you to feel comfortable while you’re here.”
“I will, thanks.”
“I’m sure my mother put fresh towels in there too.”
Cara laughed. “I bet she did.”
After gathering what she needed, Cara headed to the bathroom. She opted for a bath. She let out a deep sigh as she eased into the hot water.
“I forgot my bubbles,” she whispered, laying her head back against the cool porcelain.
She would have soaked longer, but she didn’t want to hog the only bathroom. Reluctantly, she dried off and…
“Oh, no. My robe,” she whispered frantically. “What an idiot.”
She found a large bath towel and wrapped it around her.
She peeked out the bathroom door, then quickly ran toward the bedroom. She stopped abruptly when Morgan appeared at the end of the hallway.
Her deer-in-the-headlights look said it all. It was as if someone had used a stun gun on Morgan.
“I forgot my robe.” Cara tried not to laugh as she scooted to the bedroom and closed the door.
She put her ear to the door and heard nothing. “God, I hope she didn’t have a heart attack.”
She waited for the thud but heard the floor creaking, so she quickly changed into a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then slipped into her favorite fleece-lined slippers.
Morgan whistled softly as she washed the dinner dishes.
“Did I leave you any hot water?” Cara asked.
Morgan jumped, sending the silverware into the sink with a clang.
“Sorry,” Cara said.
“Yes, I have plenty of hot water. Thanks,” she said over her shoulder.
Cara hid her grin. “Well, I think I might turn in.”
Morgan grabbed a towel. “Okay. You, um, have everything you need?”
Cara felt nervous for some reason. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes, I’m fine. Well, good night.”
Morgan smiled. “Good night. Have a sweet sleep.”
“Thank you. You, too, sweet sleep.”
She closed the bedroom door, leaning against it. Her hands were shaking. “You, too, sweet sleep? What is wrong with me?”
She slipped under the quilt, sighing happily when her head hit the huge billowy pillow. Cara looked around at the framed family photos on the dresser. The pictures on the log walls showed Morgan’s love of nature and wildlife.
Cara closed her eyes, cuddling the thick quilt to her chin. Nestling her head into the thick down pillow, she closed her eyes and listened to Morgan in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes.
She couldn’t place the song, but Morgan’s soft whistling lulled her into the most peaceful sleep she’d had in years.
Chapter 5
Cara woke to the heavenly aroma of coffee. She sat up, disoriented for a moment, then she laughed when she remembered where she was. It was only seven thirty, and she thought of pulling the quilt over her.
“Well, if the great outdoorswoman can get up at the butt-crack of dawn, I can too.”
As she got out of bed, she noticed the green flannel robe hanging on the doorknob, which was not there the night before. She nervously put her hand to her neck. Morgan must have put it there.
“God, I hope I wasn’t snoring or drooling.” She shivered slightly, but not from the cold.
She put on the robe; it was a tad too big for her, so she rolled up the sleeves and tied it.
“I feel like a lost waif in this. If Linda could see me now. But it was nice of Morgan to offer it.”
She walked out into the kitchen but didn’t see Morgan. Morgan wasn’t in the living room, either, but the fire warmed the room. Cara had no idea where Morgan was. She crept down the hall to her room. The door was open, the bed made and no Morgan.
“She makes her bed? Hmm. Maybe she’s hunting a moose.”
Back in the kitchen, she noticed the cup on the counter next to the stove and the silver coffeepot on the burner. It was odd to her.
“She doesn’t use a coffeemaker?” She looked out the window over the sink. It was a beautiful view of the lake, and it was then she saw Morgan fishing in a canoe. The lake was smooth, probably because Morgan was in a small cove.
“Flannel. Everyone wears flannel up here.”
Morgan then started paddling toward the shore. She easily pulled the aluminum canoe out of the water, laying it on the shore.
Cara watched until Morgan was out of sight, then she realized she was still in Morgan’s robe. As she tried to run out of the kitchen, Morgan walked in the back door.
“Well, good morning.” She cradled an enormous amount of firewood.
Cara abruptly stopped, skidding in her stocking feet. “Oh, good morning.”
“How did you sleep?”
“Like one of those logs.”
Morgan laughed. “Good. I see you found the robe. I wasn’t sure if you needed one or not. I normally don’t wear one.”
“Thanks. I usually do, and I forgot mine. It was chilly, so thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Morgan grinned. “Let me get rid of this firewood. There’s coffee ready on the stove. Mom’s bringing something for breakfast. She’s being very secretive, so I give you fair warning.”
“You don’t use a coffeemaker?” Cara called out. She smiled when she heard Morgan laugh.
“No. Sorry. I never got around to it.”
Cara laughed and grabbed the cup on the counter. When she grasped the handle, she immediately regretted it. Letting out a painful screech, she set the coffeepot back on the burner.
Morgan ran in. “What happened? Oh, hell.”
She grabbed Cara’s wrist and guided her to the sink. “This is going to smart a little.” Morgan ran cool water on Cara’s palm.
“Sonofabitch, that hurts,” Cara cried out, trying to pull away.
“I know, but give it a few minutes. You grabbed the coffeepot without the hot pad, didn’t you?”
“Well, who makes coffee on the stove? Didn’t you ever hear of a coffeemaker?”
“I said I never got around to it.”
“Like wineglasses. Or the microwave. Ouch.”
Morgan grinned but said nothing.
“Owhie.”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby.”
After what seemed a lifetime, Cara couldn’t feel anything. Morgan examined the burn. When Cara started to walk away, Morgan held her wrist.
“Not done yet.” She squirted a few drops of soap from the dispenser and gently washed her palm.
Cara tried to ignore the tingling sensation not only in her palm, but all over her damned body.
Morgan then gently dabbed the burn with a clean towel. “Do not move, young lady.”
“It’s fine.”
“And if it gets infected? We’d have to call you Stumpy.”
“That’s not funny.” She ignored Morgan’s grin. And she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or not when Morgan let go of her hand.
She watched as Morgan broke off a tip of a plant on the windowsill.
“Aloe vera.” She squeezed a little ointment on Cara’s palm and gently rubbed it in. “Do you know what aloe—?”
“Yes, I know what aloe vera is,” Cara said quickly.
“There, all done. Normally, I’d kiss it and make it better.”
“Under normal circumstances, I might let you.”
“We’ll have to find out what normal circumstances are then.”
Cara took her hand away, keenly aware Morgan watched her.
“Is it normal yet?”
Cara’s head shot up, then she laughed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s really not that bad. I don’t think it’ll even blister. And most important, you saved the coffee.”
Cara tried not to laugh when Morgan picked up the hot pad sitting on the counter next to the stove and waggled it in her direction.
“You wouldn’t need that if you joined the twenty-first century.”
Morgan looked offended. “My grandmother crocheted this.”
Cara sat at the kitchen table, examining her palm. It was red, but Morgan seemed to be right, which was annoying—there was no blister.
Morgan poured two cups of coffee and sat across from her. “Well, we’ve had a busy morning, and it’s only eight thirty.”
“Good morning!” Betty called out from the back door. “It looks like we’re in for some rain.”
She walked in carrying a Tupperware dish. The elderly man behind Betty carried a small bushel of apples, which Morgan took.
“Hey, Pop.” Morgan kissed his forehead. “Coffee?”
“You have to ask?”
“How are we this
morning?” Betty asked. “I was up far too early, so I made a blueberry coffee cake.”
“Good morning, Mrs.…”
“Ah, ah. Remember, Betty, please.” She patted Cara on the shoulder.
“I’m this lunatic’s husband, Chuck.” He stuck out his hand, which Cara took. “Cara, nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Chuck.” Cara was amazed at the resemblance. Down to the crystal blue eyes.
“How did you sleep?” Betty asked, taking off her jacket.
“Like a baby. It must be the air up here.”
“Or the wine,” Betty said, motioning to the empty bottle on the counter.
“That’s enough,” Chuck said to her.
Betty shrugged. “I was just joking.”
“Sit, Mom.” Morgan kissed her on the cheek before taking her jacket.
“Hurry up,” Chuck said, eyeing the coffee cake. “While it’s still warm.”
Morgan got the plates from the cabinet and poured coffee.
“What happened?” Betty looked at Cara’s red palm.
“She picked up the coffeepot without the pad,” Morgan said, shaking her head sadly.
“Did you—?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“And did you use—?”
“Yes, Mother. If gangrene sets in…”
“That is not funny,” Betty scolded, but Chuck laughed.
“That’s what I said.” Cara offered Morgan a superior glance.
“As long as you’re all right. By the way, did anyone happen to see the show last night? We don’t usually get the aurora this late. Your father slept through it.”
“I’ve only seen them a million times. Somebody cut the cake.”
“We did,” Cara said. “It was just breathtaking. I’d never seen them.”
“Never?” Betty said, cutting the coffee cake. “I’m so glad you had a chance to.”
Cara took a plate and smelled the cinnamon from the cake. And she was hungry—again. Got to be this country air. When she saw Chuck slather his piece with butter, her mouth watered. The idea never occurred to her.