by Kate Sweeney
Cara hadn’t noticed Betty, who had poured lemonade for everyone. Paul smiled his thanks and took a long drink.
“And none of this talk about putting Pete in foster care. What in heaven’s name…” Betty stopped when Chuck cleared his throat. “I will not be quiet. Paul Henderson, what would Sandy think about this? Pete is your son, and you’re having a horrible time. But that’s when you hold tight, not run away. Don’t look at me like that, Chuck.” Betty took a deep breath. “Paul, look at me.”
Paul looked up; Cara could tell he wanted to burst into tears.
“Pete needs you, and you need him. What kind of testament to Sandy would it be if you sent him off to strangers and ran off to Ohio of all places? Why, it’s like moving to someplace like, like…Chicago!”
Paul’s eyes widened, glancing at Cara.
“Thank you,” Cara said dryly.
“Just trying to keep it lively,” Betty said with a wink. “But you know what I’m talking about, Paul. Do you know that Pete wants to live with us? He thinks you don’t care about him.”
Paul shot her an incredulous look. “What? He said that?”
“Yeah. At lunch,” Morgan said. “He thinks it wouldn’t matter to you.”
“He thinks I don’t care?”
Cara watched him. Here it comes, she thought.
“Don’t care?” He sounded incredulous. “I’d be lost without him.” He covered his face with his hands and wept.
Betty ran to him. She put her arms around him, cradling his head against her chest. Cara looked for a napkin; Morgan handed her one, then took one for herself.
This is what he needed, Cara thought. Paul Henderson probably hadn’t cried in over a year. Well, he sure let it out. It was heart-wrenching.
Finally, he pulled back, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” Betty kissed the top of his head. “We all need a good cry every once in a while. Especially men. Now let’s get down to it.”
“Betty, I need a job,” Paul said. “I’ve looked everywhere here. There’s nothing. In a few months, I’ll have gone through our savings. I got a mortgage to pay, or we’ll be living on the streets.”
“What’s the job in Ohio?” Morgan asked.
Cara noticed how Morgan absently toyed with her glass. She may not have known her very well, but Cara could tell Morgan was contemplating something.
“My cousin owns a mechanic shop.”
“You’re a mechanic?” Morgan glanced at Chuck.
Cara watched Chuck and Morgan smiling while Paul continued.
“Diesel mostly, but I can handle basic automotive too. It’s something.”
Betty looked from Morgan to Chuck. “All right, you two. You look like you’re planning the Normandy invasion. What are you thinking?”
“What do you think, Pop?” Morgan asked him.
“What?” Paul looked at them. “What?”
“Go ahead, Morg,” Chuck said, puffing on his pipe.
“Paul, you know Andy.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he found a job in Montana. He’s leaving after the season is over. That’s in a few weeks.”
“Okay,” Paul said, shifting in his chair.
Cara could tell he was about to jump right out of it.
“Well, how about you take his job? He’s a mechanic. He fixes the little things on the planes. He works at the airfield, takes all the reservations for the tours.”
“But he can fly a plane, I can’t do that. And I don’t know about the mechanics of a plane.”
Morgan grinned. “Neither did Andy. I’ll do the same for you. You go to community college and get certified. Then later, we’ll teach you how to fly and you can get your license.”
Paul thought for a moment. “I learn quick, Morg. But flying?” He laughed nervously. “I’m not sure about that.”
“We’ll talk about it. If you can just be a qualified mechanic, then you’ll be worth the money, believe me.”
“Paul, you know these lakes, right?” Chuck asked. “I mean fishing.”
“God, yes. I’ve been on every inch of those islands all my life. I know where the best spots are. Remote, though.”
“What are you thinking, Pop?” Morgan asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe add on to the business, being a guide for daily fishing. We got that big boat we don’t use much. I’m sure Paul knows how to operate one.”
“I do,” Paul said eagerly. “I can do that. I know these islands better than anyone.”
Morgan sat back, scratching her chin. Cara suddenly saw Morgan in a different light. She didn’t know why, but for the first time, Morgan seemed truly attractive to her. She saw her as a kind woman, and not as the subject of an article. She noticed the rise of her breasts with every breath. Wait, what?
“We can work out the particulars later. Why don’t we meet at the airfield tomorrow and we can hash this out?” Morgan said, offering her hand. “This will work, Paul. You can take over Andy’s job, and we’ll talk about the fishing guide business. Pop will help you with that.”
“In the winter, you can do the plowing,” Chuck said. “And I can really retire.”
Paul grinned and took Morgan’s hand, then shook Chuck’s. “It’s a deal.”
“Great. You start tomorrow. Andy will train you until he leaves. It’ll be perfect.”
“Thanks, Morg. Thanks, Chuck. I won’t let you down.”
“We know that.”
Everyone started talking then and barely heard the knock at the front door. Morgan, still talking over her shoulder, left to answer. She came back with Pete.
“Look who’s here.”
“What are you doing here?” Paul asked.
“They closed the library early. The librarian gave me a ride. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Paul walked over to him. “We have to talk, son.”
“We do?”
Pete sounded scared, so Paul put his arm around him. “Let’s go for a walk, okay?”
They walked out the back door toward the lake. Betty ran over to the window, and God help her, so did Cara. Morgan stood right behind them, trying to see.
Paul knelt in front of Pete. He held on to his arms while he talked to him. And in the next minute, Pete wrapped his arms around his neck; Paul pulled him close.
Betty sniffed loudly. Morgan handed her a napkin.
“Well done,” Cara said to Morgan.
“Thanks,” she said softly. “I hope it’ll work out.”
Cara tilted her head. “I think you know it will.”
“You do, huh?”
“Yes. I don’t know you very well, but I don’t think you would have done this if you didn’t believe it.”
“So, you’re getting to know me?”
“A little. This was a kind thing you did.”
“Oh, I don’t know. But it makes sense. Paul needed a job, and I needed a replacement for Andy. It just came to me.” Morgan laughed quietly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Cara asked before she could stop herself.
“I-I don’t know. Just…I don’t know exactly.”
Betty groaned. “Boy, are you dense.”
Chuck laughed. “And I’m hungry. Let’s get out of here, sweetie. Everybody’s getting too mushy around here.”
Chapter 11
With everyone gone, Cara decided it was time to get her notes together and start writing the article. This was good because she wasn’t sure she wanted to think about any personal feelings she might be having for Morgan. With only a few days remaining before they left for Chicago, keeping things on a business level was the best. Wasn’t it? It was certainly getting hard to do.
Morgan seemed to agree when Cara said she was going to her room; Morgan didn’t make any jokes. But it was for the best.
Cara sat at the desk, opened her laptop, and leafed through her notes and Betty’s recording, which had her l
aughing. While Cara decided how to attack the article, she was reminded of Chuck and his explanation about Jerry’s death. Cara wondered how he died. When Chuck brought it up, it certainly had an effect on Morgan, who seemed close to tears. But there was something more there; Cara couldn’t put her finger on it. She made a mental note to ask Morgan later.
She had no idea how long she’d been at it, but when she heard the gentle knock at her door, she glanced at her watch. She’d been sitting there for nearly two hours.
“Come in.”
Morgan poked her head in. “I don’t want to disturb you, but I guess I am.”
Cara laughed. “That’s all right. I lost track of time.”
“Well, dinner’s ready. If you want to keep working, I can keep it warm.”
“Oh, no. I’m starving.” She stood and stretched her back. “Oh, God, I’m a human pretzel. I could use my masseuse.”
“You have a masseuse?” Morgan leaned against the doorjamb.
“At the workout place I go to on occasion. She has hands of gold.”
“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
“For reading and the computer.” She hated herself when she automatically adjusted her glasses. “No good?” Now she really hated herself.
Morgan smiled and walked into the room. “No. I like them. Gives you even more character. Like I want to get to know you more.”
Cara ought to have felt trapped with Morgan standing over her, but the way her heart raced, and her body trembled.
“I know I’m no master masseuse, but I can give a good back rub.”
“Oh, no. That’s fine. I’m—” She stopped when Morgan gently rubbed the top of her shoulders. She instantly melted. “Good Lord,” she whispered, leaning into her touch.
Morgan continued easing the ache in her neck and shoulders. Her entire body tingled when Morgan’s fingers ran up her neck into her hairline. She felt as if she were in some sort of a trance—she absently licked her lips to make sure she wasn’t drooling. Cara had no idea how long Morgan’s fingers did their magic, and she let out a dejected groan when Morgan stepped back.
“How’s that?” Morgan whispered.
“That was wonderful. You should have been a doctor.”
“I hate blood.” Morgan gave her shoulders one more caress. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”
“I’ll be right out,” Cara said after breathing calmly.
Morgan walked out of the bedroom, much to Cara’s disappointment. But Cara had no one to blame but herself—she set the ground rules.
Cara leaned against the desk. “Rats. What am I doing?”
*******
The individual potpie, was, as every other dinner, hearty and yummy.
“This is delicious. What meat is this?” Cara stopped immediately. “It tastes like chicken. Is it chicken? Please say it’s chicken.”
Morgan laughed and wiped her mouth. “I’d love to tell you it’s squirrel or possum.”
“But it’s not, right?” Cara took a drink of wine.
“No,” Morgan said. “I can’t tease you. It’s chicken. And not from a friend. That would make it too personal. It’s from the butcher. Well, he told me it was chicken.”
“That is not funny.”
Morgan laughed. “Maybe just a little. You ate venison, and that’s like Bambi’s—”
“Don’t say it.” Cara put up her hand. “I do not want that mental picture.” Cara suddenly shivered. “Is it cold in here?”
“Come to think of it, yeah. More wine. That’ll do it.”
Cara laughed and offered the adorable pheasant glass. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Would it work?”
“Nope.”
“Good. I want you sober when I kiss you.”
Cara pulled her glass away, spilling some wine. “Morgan…”
“I didn’t say I was going to do it now. But I have to be honest, the thought has crossed my mind constantly.” She winced. “Sorry.”
Cara absently picked at the remnants of her delicious potpie. “I told you to stop apologizing.”
“Yes, you did.” Morgan pushed her plate away. “Suddenly, I’m not hungry.”
Cara looked up. “Me either. But it was delicious.”
Morgan stood. “I’ll start a fire. It is chilly in here. Bring the wine?”
“What about the dishes?”
“We’ll get them later.”
“If you had a dish—”
“Let it go. Let it go,” Morgan sang out and left the kitchen.
Cara laughed, trying to avoid her stomach, which was flipping—she hoped it wasn’t the potpie.
“Does this bore you?” Morgan asked over her shoulder.
“What?”
“This. Just sitting watching a fire. I mean, I know it’s fun now.”
“Well, this is like a mini-vacation.”
Morgan nodded in agreement. She looked as though she was going to say something, but instead she continued with the fireplace.
“I don’t find this boring, though,” Cara added, watching her.
“That’s good to know.” Morgan sat next to her on the couch. “So, what would you be doing right now back home?”
“I don’t know. Depending on the day, I’d probably be out at dinner with…Kim.” She suddenly realized she hadn’t given Kim a thought since their phone call the other night.
“And you miss that?” Morgan asked softly.
Did she? Normally, she’d answer yes right away. “Yes, I miss it, but…”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “But?”
Cara looked squarely into her eyes. Morgan offered a quizzical smile but said nothing. For a long moment, Cara just looked at her—her eyes, her lips. She wanted to reach over, to see that small scar again. All this was dangerous.
“Cara, you don’t have to answer that. I understand what’s happening. And I understand your position. I’m being very selfish here. I won’t lie, you know I’m attracted to you, and I’d like to know you better. But I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation. Staying here is hard enough on your relationship with Kim. I don’t want to add to it.”
Cara sighed deeply. “I don’t know what I want.”
“I understand. But is it okay if I take that as hopeful?”
“You are relentless. Yes, it’s okay. If you understand I’m leaving in a few days, and once we get to Chicago, I’m…I’m leaving on vacation.”
Morgan sat back, taking her glass of wine with her. “Okay.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know.”
Cara tried to avoid the smile. “Boy, you’re trouble. I can believe that.”
Morgan laughed. “I’m not trying to be trouble.”
“Oh, yes, you are.”
“All right, I feel an argument coming on. Let’s change the topic. You seemed to get a lot done on the article. Right?”
“Yes, I did.” Part of her didn’t want to change the topic—she didn’t know what she wanted. “But I have a question if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Shoot.”
“Today, I noticed how emotional you were when Chuck talked about your uncle’s death. If I’m not being too intrusive, may I ask how he died?”
The transformation from lightheartedness to a deep frown caught Cara off guard. Morgan sat forward, took a drink, then set the glass on the table. Cara said nothing.
“I wasn’t expecting that question.”
“If you’d rather not talk about it…”
“No, no. I just…” Morgan ran her fingers through her hair.
When Cara saw her hands tremble, she reached over and touched her hand, shocked at how cold they were. Morgan looked at her hands and smiled slightly.
“What happened, Morgan?” Cara asked softly.
“I was in love once.” Morgan laughed quietly. “That sounded lame.”
Cara smiled but said nothing. She was sure this was what Betty had told her.
“S
he was vacationing here, and we met. She lived in Minneapolis. I can’t even remember what she did for a living, but she lived large, that’s for sure. I allowed my head to get all turned around and believed her when she said I was wasting myself here.” Morgan looked around the cabin; she shook her head. “My mom tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. Looking back on it, most of my friends tried to tell me.” She laughed then and looked at Cara. “The ego. Thought I was irresistible.”
Cara smiled, taking her hand away. “Been there, done that.”
So far, this was what Betty had told her and all she had told her. She realized she held her breath waiting for Morgan to continue.
“She wanted me to come to Minneapolis for a long weekend. It was after the holidays, and things were, of course, slow. I had a few plow jobs to do, but Andy could take care of them. So, I went. Full of myself. But as the weekend devolved, I realized we didn’t have much in common, other than the physical. By Sunday, I had enough, and I think so did she. But what I didn’t know is that on my drive back here, there was a situation on the lake. A child was playing on the ice and went through. My dad and Uncle Jerry were the only ones who could help.” Morgan stared at the fire. “So, they saved the little girl, but Uncle Jerry had a massive heart attack and died before I got home that night. Pop had a rough time with a bout of pneumonia and couldn’t even go to his own brother’s funeral. The pneumonia caused him to take it easy the rest of his life. But, hell, I got to go away on a sexy weekend.”
“I see,” Cara said absently. “So, you blame yourself.”
“I did. For a long time, I could barely look at my parents. If I hadn’t gone away, I would be the one who was called. I would have saved that child, or died trying, not Uncle Jerry.”
Cara turned toward her; Morgan seemed to move away, her anger getting the better of her, but when Cara placed a hand on her forearm, Morgan relaxed and even chuckled.
“It’s been a while since I’ve talked about this. Look, I’m not an idiot. Logically, I know it’s not my fault. It was a tragic accident. But there are times…” Morgan stopped and bit at her bottom lip.
Cara could sense she was trying to get a grip on her emotions. She caressed Morgan’s arm, hoping to reassure her.
“There are times,” Morgan whispered, “I look at my father, and I know he’s thinking of Uncle Jerry. I try so hard, but I feel so guilty.”