Absence of Grace (25 page)

“Were you planning to walk somewhere specific?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just need to stretch my legs.”

“Mount Dewey’s good for that.”

She seemed more solemn than usual, but as they walked, he introduced everyday topics and got her talking. She told him she’d had a dozen for dinner—eight tourists and four locals. She’d served pork ribs and dumplings with brownies for dessert. He said he was sorry he’d missed that. In turn, he talked about the group he’d taken up the Stikine that day—a couple and their three children—and that tomorrow he’d be taking a group of four fishermen on a two-day trip.

“Do you do many of those?”

“Terry, my business partner, does most of the longer trips on
Joyful
, but I usually do several a season. Gives us both a break when we switch off.”

They reached the top of Mount Dewey, and Clen walked over to the edge. He stood next to her, but left plenty of space because he could tell she preferred that.

“They talked about the
Marjean
at dinner,” she said.

The
Marjean
had been found drifting west of Port Alexander after being reported missing two days earlier.

Clen stared at the boats carving lines into the navy blue of the strait below. “They said the life raft and the crew’s survival suits were still on board. It means they’re dead.” She shivered. “Does it happen often, that a whole crew is lost?”

“More in winter when the crabbers go out. Seas are rougher. Boats ice up.” The truth was commercial fishing was a dangerous profession and accidents happened all the time. The possibility something might go wrong was a fact of life when one relied on a boat. He lived with it the way millions lived with the risks involved in driving automobiles. He was as careful as he knew how to be, and he didn’t think about it much.

“One of the men said the
Marjean
may have been hit by a freak wave.”

He heard the question in her voice, one she wasn’t asking out loud. “That wouldn’t happen in this area, not with the islands serving as breakwaters. Our biggest concern here is tidal rips.”

“There are accidents, though.”

“We realize this is an unforgiving environment. We treat it with respect.”

“Three of the crew have families. Five children in all.”

There was no good response.

Clen gave him a distracted look. “Sorry I’m being a Gloomy Gus tonight. It got to me. The way they talked about it. As if it were no big deal.”

“I think it’s their version of whistling in the dark. They’re not unfeeling, but they can’t let it in if they want to keep on doing their jobs. You’ll see. John will start a fund for the families, and everyone will pitch in.”

“I read somewhere that the deadliest animals are usually the ones with the brightest colors. Frogs, caterpillars, fish. It’s a warning to predators. Don’t eat me, because I’ll kill you. I think Alaska is like that. Beautiful but deadly.”

“All part of its charm.” He liked the bit about poisonous animals. He’d have to use it sometime.

After that, knowing when she was likely to go for a walk, he managed occasional encounters. Not often enough to cause her to change her routine to avoid him, but often enough to keep a conversation going.

Clen was clearing after dinner when Gerrum walked in. “Humpbacks have been sighted near here,” he said. “I’m going to take a look. Thought it might be something you’d enjoy seeing.”

“You mean right now?”

“The sooner the better. Word is the whales are hanging around, but they might move on any time.”

She pointed at the sink full of pots and pans. “I need to finish washing up.”

“Tell you what. Come with me now, and I’ll help you clean up afterward.”

She stood frowning for a moment, then shrugged. “Hey, what am I thinking? I’ve never seen a humpback, and the dishes aren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s the spirit.”

As they neared the area where the whales had been reported, Gerrum told her to be on the lookout for blows that would appear like puffs of smoke and last about a second.

It was fifteen minutes before he spotted the first one. He pointed, and a moment later, another puff appeared which she saw. “What do we do now?”

“We move closer, and then we wait. If we’re lucky, they may come over and check us out.”

They neared the whales, and he slipped the engine into neutral. The boat moved gently with the current as they waited to see what the whales would do. When they began swimming in a decreasing arc around the
Joyful
, Clen and Gerrum smiled at each other. One whale moved in close and exhaled loudly, blowing up a smoky spray that drifted across their stern.

“Good Lord, they’re bigger than this boat!”

“Yep. They could take us out with a flip of their tails or a good nose bump.”

That startled her, but she was too fascinated to let it stop her from stepping outside. Gerrum stayed at the helm as the whales continued to move around the boat, popping up periodically as if checking to see if the humans were still watching. Clen clapped her hands in appreciation as one sounded, its tail flukes outlined against the darkening sky.

After a time, the whales moved off and Gerrum put the engine in gear, turning in a wide, slow arc back to the east. Behind them, their wake silvered in the setting sun.

Clen went back inside. “That was am-m-azing.”

“You’re cold.”

“F-freezing, but it’s worth it.”

He offered his jacket but she refused. “I’ll make tea.”

“I have a better idea.” He held out a hand. “Come here.”

She’d watched those hands, calm and competent, handling a boat, patting Kody, pointing out a moose. After a brief hesitation, she placed her hand in his and felt the smooth softness of palm, the rougher slide of callus. He pulled her close then snugged her into his side, wrapping his arm around her waist. The in and out of his breath pushed gently against her back, and the steady beat of the engine pulsed under her feet. Warmth radiated from him, turning her flesh and bones warm and liquid.

She turned her head. “Ger— “

His lips on hers.

Her mouth moved in surprised response. As if dreaming it, she turned to face him and his arm curved around her. The engine note changed as the
Joyful
’s momentum bled off. His mouth shifted against hers as slowly, slowly the gentle swell rocking the boat nudged her into his arms. Closer, closer.

Dear God, how could she have forgotten how good this felt. A man’s arms. A man’s lips on hers. She trembled, but no longer with cold. A pulse of desire caught her by surprise, swinging, spinning her through space, past moons and planets. To this man, this moment, this blessed moment.

Her hands cupped his face holding on, her fingertips brushing through black satin hair, thumbs grazing over the firmness of cheekbones and jaw. If she were blind, this would be how she would know him. From the angle and plane of forehead. From the way his nose felt nestled next to hers, from the clean taste of his mouth.

A surprise, how familiar his arms felt. Yet brand new, his mouth against hers. His kiss releasing a spring of emotion that flowed cool and fresh inside her, washing away, at least for the moment, the debris of her past. Breathless, she rested her head on his shoulder, her lips against his neck, knowing she needed to step out of his arms before it was too late.

But, really, it was already too late. Too late to pretend seeing him didn’t make her feel a shivering of promise. Too late to pretend she didn’t want him. And much too late to walk away from him and from Wrangell without consequence.

“We need to get back.” His words were rough with desire and a mute question.

“Yes.” Not the yes he wanted, but more would be madness. She could so easily lose herself in him. She took a breath and raised her eyes to his. “I need—”

He touched her lips with a finger, holding in the rest of the words. Then he reached past her to put the engine back in gear.

Funny how something like that could sneak up on a person. Gerrum thought the reason he enjoyed being with Clen was because she provided intelligent companionship. But holding Clen, kissing her, he knew what he really wanted was anything but simple.

Was that the reason he hadn’t pushed for more? Or was it the surprise? Surprise at the strength of his emotions as he held Clen. Was stepping away an acknowledgment those feelings were more than physical desire?

Backing off hadn’t been easy. Especially since the next step with Clen would have to wait. He had a three-day fishing charter starting in the morning.

As he maneuvered
Joyful
into the slip, Clen jumped onto the dock to tie up, then she stood waiting for him, her hands tucked in her pockets. “Thank you for taking me.”

“My pleasure.”

She turned and began walking, and he fell into step beside her.

“Hard to imagine hunting one from a canoe, isn’t it? Or for that matter, killing one for any reason. Moby Dick aside, they seemed so gentle.”

Her frenetic speech worried him and chipped away at the pleasure he’d felt kissing her. Gone, as well, the intimacy they’d shared. An intimacy not measured in inches or millimeters.

“Of course, if they weren’t gentle, it would be very scary to be near one, wouldn’t it,” she said, her voice quick and uneven.

“That it would.”

“Do they always come that close?”

“Rarely.”

She’d set a fast pace and this last remark took them to the back door of the lodge. Kody loomed, ghostly in the dimness of the porch. He stretched, then strolled over to meet Clen who knelt and buried her hands in the thick fur of his neck. The old dog whined softly, trying to lick her face.

Gerrum watched the two, knowing Clen had just reestablished her distance from him. A light year or two. “About those dishes,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not holding you to that. It won’t take me more than a few minutes.” Clen stood, keeping Kody between them, obviously wanting him to leave. “Thank you, Gerrum. The whales...I’ll never forget seeing them.”

And letting me hold you. Kiss you. Will you never forget that, as well?

She was going to try, he suspected.

It was more like taming a wild thing than courting a woman, this back and forth with Clen. And what an odd, old-fashioned word that was—courting.

Until tonight, he didn’t realize it was what he was doing.