Across a Thousand Miles (26 page)

Kanemoto nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I'll see you in the morning, then.” And he smiled a big smile as he watched them leave.

Mac kept his hand on the small of her back as he guided her out of the crowded banquet hall where the special awards were still being given out. The cold night air embraced them when he opened the door for her and they stepped into it, drawing it gratefully into lungs that
hadn't known that much hot stuffy indoor air in a long, long time. They began walking along the side of the building toward the back parking lot, and when they passed into a dark alley, Mac pulled her to a stop. He didn't say a word, he just backed her up gently until her shoulders bumped against the building behind her. He braced his hands on either side of her and lowered his head, stopping just shy of kissing her.

“I promised you a long time ago that I'd never kiss you again unless you asked me to,” he said, “but God help me, I've been wanting to do this for the past thousand miles. I'm afraid I'm about to break my promise.”

Rebecca felt the strong masculine warmth of his nearness, and a delicious, sensual shiver rippled through her. “Oh, no you're not. For the past thousand miles I've been hoping you'd kiss me,” she said.

He drew his head back to look at her in the near darkness. “Really?”

“For the past two thousand,” she amended. “So please, please, William MacKenzie, kiss me.”

“At last,” he breathed, lowering his head again.

Finally!
Rebecca thought as his lips touched hers. The kiss was so electric she was surprised sparks didn't fly. She reached up with her good arm to curl her fingers around the nape of his neck and stood on tiptoe to bring him closer. Their lips parted simultaneously, and Mac's tentative, questing mouth insinuated itself upon hers with growing passion. Rebecca lost herself in the icy, hot tingling sensation of Mac's long-awaited kiss. At the same time she felt the empty, aching feeling in the pit of her stomach—that had been with her since Bruce died—dissipate. She lost all track of time as Mac's mouth awakened feelings inside her she had thought long dead. Her knees buckled abruptly and he dropped
his arms to grab her against himself. They broke apart, gasping for breath. Mac groaned as if in agony. “Where in hell's your room?”

“It's clear across town, remember? What about the dogs?”

“What dogs?”

“We have to drop my dogs, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mac slumped against her, bracing one hand against the wall and running the fingers of his other through the hair over her left temple. “Damn! I forgot about the dogs…”

He kissed her again in the shadow of the building and once more at the dog truck, once at each stoplight on the drive across town and five times while he let twelve dogs out of their dog boxes to stretch their legs one last time before being boxed for the night. Rebecca's room was a typical motel one, but there was plenty of hot water and they could park the truck right outside the door, which is where they left it when Mac finished reloading the team and took the room key from Rebecca.

Once inside the room, he locked and chained the door, flipped on the bedside light, closed the curtains and began undressing as fast as he could. Rebecca stood for a moment watching him and then began to laugh. He stopped in the act of pulling off his boots, standing first on one leg and then the other as he hopped around the room. “What's so funny?” he said, boot in hand.

“You're in an awful hurry,” she said. “You're beginning to make me a little bit nervous.”

He dropped the boot on the floor with a heavy thump. “Why's that?”

She crossed to where he stood and reached up her hand to trace the side of his face. “Because I was kind of hoping that this was going to last all night.”

 

L
ATER SHE AWOKE
in the dimly lit room and stifled another rueful laugh. All night? He'd barely lasted ten minutes before collapsing beside her, sound asleep before his head hit the pillow. No one could blame him. He hadn't really slept in more than five days, and the physical exertion he'd expended on the race would have wiped out a handful of lesser men. Rebecca curled on her side and contemplated him from a delicious twelve inches away. He was lying on his stomach with his arms flung out, taking up most of the bed. He was naked, the bedsheet bunched at his waist. His back and shoulders were exquisite. The muscles in his upper arms and shoulders were rounded and powerful, and in his back they were perfectly knit over his ribs. She longed to touch him but didn't dare. He needed sleep so desperately.

The bedside clock read 4 a.m. She rolled onto her back with a silent sigh and then made an awkward one-armed clutch at the mattress as she felt herself start to slide off the side of the bed. She hit the floor with a muffled thump and a startled cry, dragging most of the bedding with her. Above her on the bed Mac groaned. He reached his arm out, encountered nothing and came awake with a lunge that propelled his upper body over the edge of the bed. “Rebecca? What the hell are you doing down there?” He helped her back up onto the bed. “Are you all right? Did I push you off? Is your arm okay?”

“My arm's fine. I slid off, that's all.”

He knelt over her, one leg on either side of her thighs, and examined her closely. “You sure?” She nodded. “Well, you look okay to me,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “In fact, you look pretty damn wonderful.” He lowered his head and kissed her very gently, drawing back for a moment. “You taste pretty damn
wonderful, too.” He grinned slowly. “If you don't mind, I'd like to try something.”

“What's that?”

“I'd like to try making love to you again without falling asleep before we even get started.”

“Think you can do it?”

He turned his head to look at the bedside clock and then looked back at her. “The way I've got it figured, I should be able to keep you entertained for at least four hours. I've been sleeping since midnight or thereabouts. Equal run, equal rest, isn't that right?” He lowered himself carefully on top of her, keeping his upper body braced to avoid the cast on her arm.

“That formula was devised for sled dogs,” Rebecca said, catching her breath as he slid his body sensuously against hers. “I don't know how it translates to mushers.”

“Well, let's try it and see,” Mac said, with a grin. “You could write a column on the results for the
Whitehorse Star,
” he suggested.

“I'm not sure they'd print it,” Rebecca said, smiling and then laughing aloud as he kissed a ticklish spot on her neck, just below her ear.

“I'm not sure I'd want them to.” Mac moved his head until his mouth covered hers. She reached up to pull him closer, savoring the exquisite sensations, the very nearness of him. Ten minutes later, she was muffling her moans into a pillow…and the column was the last thing on her mind.

 

T
HE SHRILL RING
of the bedside phone was a very rude interruption of a very beautiful moment. Rebecca was awake, relishing the sensation of Mac's warm, hard body spooned against hers. His legs and arms embraced her,
his warm breath and the rise and fall of his chest made her feel incredibly safe. Yet, at the same time, he made her feel like a deliciously wanton wench. He made her feel that she wanted very much to love again, something she swore she'd never do. Mac hadn't said he loved her, and a small voice inside her begged caution, but a much louder voice demanded audience, for she was desperately, deeply, hopelessly in love with Bill MacKenzie and there was absolutely no denying it.

The abrupt ring of the phone destroyed the quiet and woke Mac. She felt him stir as she reached for the receiver. “Yes?” she said.

“Becky? Brian. Mac there?”

She glanced at the bedside clock, surprised to see that it was nearly 9 a.m. “Yes,” she said. “Hold on.” She twisted in Mac's arms. “It's your brother,” she said.

“Hang up,” Mac moaned, his arms closing around her.

“I can't!” she whispered, muffling the receiver. “He knows you're here!”

“So? He probably just wants to tell me about some wonderful person who wants to buy the team. Hang up.”

“Talk to him.” Rebecca thrust the phone into his hand and he reluctantly took it, rolling onto his back.

“What!” he said in a decidedly gruff voice. Rebecca let herself melt against him, breathing the wonderful scent of him, relishing his warmth and his sheer masculine strength. “
What?
” Mac said again, and she felt his body tense. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Why would he call here? What could he possibly have to say to me?” Another pause while Brian spoke, and then Mac said, “Well, I have nothing to say to him!” Mac's voice had a hard edge to it Rebecca had never heard. She could hear Brian's voice on
the other end, but not what he was saying. Only that whatever it was sounded urgent. “Are you sure about this?” Mac said, his voice a curious blend of skepticism and hope. There was a long pause and then, “Okay. I'll talk to him.” Mac hung up the phone and looked at Rebecca. She watched him, eyebrows raised questioningly. “My father,” he said. “He's going to call here. He wants to talk to me. It's…important.”

“Oh,” Rebecca said, recalling what Brian had told her about the relationship between Mac and his father. “That's good, isn't it?”

“I don't know,” Mac said. He smoothed his fingertips along the side of her face. “It's been more than a year since we spoke,” he said. “I did something while I was in the navy that pissed him off and got me court-martialed, and he hasn't acknowledged me since.” Mac uttered a bitter laugh. “The last thing he ever said to me was, ‘I'm glad your mother wasn't alive to see this day.'” Mac brushed a stray wisp of hair to the side of her face. “Frankly I don't care if I ever talk to him again.” The phone rang and he turned to look at it. It rang again.

“Answer it, Mac,” Rebecca said. “He's your father. A year is long enough.”

He raised the receiver reluctantly, and for the next five minutes Rebecca was privy to one-half of a very formal and stilted conversation between a father and son. She had never heard a grown man address his father as “sir” before.

“I understand, sir,” Mac said toward the end of the conversation. “Thank you. It's more than I could have hoped for.” One last pause while his father spoke, and then Mac said, “I will, sir. As soon as possible.” He replaced the receiver very gently, sat for a few moments
in absolute stillness, then dropped his head into his hands and heaved a great sigh that bordered on a moan.

“Mac?” Rebecca touched his shoulder gently. “Is everything all right?”

He lifted his head to look at her. “Yeah, I guess. He congratulated me on finishing the race.” He drew another deep breath and stared across the room. He was within arm's reach of her and yet he was a million miles away. She felt something start to build inside her, an icy premonition bordering on panic.

“Mac?” Rebecca said, her mouth dry. “What is it? Tell me!”

He hesitated, then turned to look at her. “I have to go back East.”

The awful premonition had become reality. Rebecca's hand tightened its grip on the bedsheet. “Oh,” she said, her voice faint.

“My father told me that new testimony has come up that sheds a different light on my case.” Mac shook his head as if he didn't believe his own words. His keen eyes locked on hers. “I shot down two Iranian planes, Rebecca. I was flying cover for a search-and-rescue mission over the no-fly zone and all of a sudden these two fighters appeared… It all happened so fast. So fast! You see, there was this radar in my plane…” Mac gave up trying to explain. “Jesus. I didn't do anything wrong.” He dropped his head into his hands again and sat for a few moments gathering his thoughts.

“It's okay,” Rebecca said, touching his shoulder. “Brian told me about it.”

He raised his head and glanced sidelong at her. “Apparently a motion has been made for a retrial and it's gone to the court of appeals. My father tells me that I'm going to be acquitted. He must know—he has an inside
ear. My God, Rebecca, do you realize what that means? He's asked me to come back while they make my pardon official, and I guess I owe it to him. I have to go.”

Rebecca gazed at him. “Of course you do,” she said. But her something inside her was dying all over again, and the anguish was almost more than she could bear.

I
T TOOK THEM
two days to drive back home. They arrived on a Tuesday evening and Mac stayed just long enough at Rebecca's to make sure that everything was unloaded from the truck, her dogs were fed and Donny was agreeable to helping out while she was recuperating. Mac was solicitous and tender toward her, as he had been for the entire journey home, but Rebecca kept him at arm's length with excuses about feeling poorly. Relations between them had become increasingly strained, and while Mac seemed totally baffled by her behavior and had made repeated attempts to break through her reserve, Rebecca was desperate to be free of his company. She couldn't bear the nearness of him, the warm touch of his hand on her shoulder as he passed behind her in the cabin on his way to fill the wood box, the sound of his deep, resonant voice within the cabin's walls. She hated herself for falling in love with him and blamed only herself for the pain she was feeling. Brian had tried to warn her, but she had ignored him. “Don't count on him sticking around,” he'd said. And now Mac was leaving the boonies, just as Brian had predicted.

“Right,” he said, preparing to leave. “Everything's
all set here. I put Cookie in the special pen. She's looking very maternal and she's eating like a horse again. I'm going to go take care of my own dogs and get them settled, then I'll come back and make sure you're all right. Rebecca?” His hand on her shoulder again, turning her toward him. His eyes were piercing, questioning. “What in hell is bothering you? You're as pale as a ghost and you've been acting like I'm some kind of cold-blooded pathological killer for the past two days.”

“I'm fine,” she said, dropping her gaze. “I just don't feel well, that's all. My arm hurts. Please don't bother to come back tonight. I think I'm just going to go to bed. I need…sleep.”

His hand fell away from her shoulder, and he nodded, turning toward the door. He paused there and looked back. “I'll tell Donny and Kanemoto not to bother you,” he said. “Ellin left you a casserole and some fresh-baked rolls on the counter. You saw them? Good. Heat them up and eat a good supper before you go to bed.” He paused again in the act of opening the door. His eyes were hurt, puzzled. “Rebecca, if I've done anything wrong, anything to offend you…”

Rebecca shook her head. “You haven't. Please just leave, Mac. I really need to be alone.”

 

M
AC REELED OUT
into the cold, his mind a turmoil of anguished thoughts. Rebecca didn't love him. She didn't want him around. His brother had tried to warn him. “I can't imagine her as being anything but a lone wolf grieving for her dead mate,” he'd said. As Mac climbed into his rusting dog truck and turned on the ignition, his heart was on the ground. Two nights ago they had shared the most intimate and tender of moments. Two nights ago he had drowned himself in the intoxicating sweet
ness of her after months of dreaming of those precious moments. He loved her more than life itself, yet now she was acting as cold and aloof toward him as the day they'd first met, in spite of all they'd been through together.

“Don't get your hopes up,” Brian had warned, and yet two nights ago his hopes had been somewhere up in the stratosphere, just about as high as they'd ever been or would ever be again. He had been so sure she felt the same way!

Who could figure the heart of a woman?

 

R
EBECCA LISTENED
to the truck engine start, listened as Mac drove out of her life. She felt numb, as if the cold had finally had its way and permanently frozen her heart and soul. She moved listlessly to the counter, gazed down at the offerings Ellin had left, along with a brief note. “Welcome home, my dear girl! I'll be over first thing in the morning to hear all about your adventures!”

Tuffy's cold nose nudged her hand sympathetically, and the old dog pressed her body against Rebecca's leg, offering what comfort she could.

Rebecca ate no supper and wondered dully if she would ever feel hungry again. She climbed the steep ladder to the sleeping loft where she collapsed on her bed, wrapped her arms around Tuffy and wept inconsolably until the cold gray light of dawn brightened the frost-shrouded windows.

 

I
T WASN'T
E
LLIN
who visited Rebecca first thing in the morning. It was Mac. His knock on the cabin door took her completely by surprise, and for a moment she forgot her manners and just stared. When she reluctantly motioned him inside, he stood in silent disbelief, staring at
her. Finally he spoke. “Your hair,” he said. “Your beautiful hair!”

Rebecca raised her fingertips self-consciously to the ragged ends of her shorn locks. She nodded. “I couldn't comb or braid it with one hand, so I cut it off. I had to, you see.”

“My God, Rebecca!” Mac said. She was clearly distraught, and he couldn't imagine that cutting her hair was the sole reason. Impatiently she motioned him into the cabin and he stepped inside. He stood near the woodstove and looked around the room, trying to gather his wits. Rebecca was behaving like a stranger, and there was something different about the cabin, too. Her husband's things were gone. His coats on the hooks behind the door, his boots lined up in back of the stove, the clothes hanging on wall pegs, the pictures on top of the bureau. And all those trophies, those big, gleaming testimonials to his mushing prowess, had vanished. All of it gone! Mac glanced at her left hand. The wedding band, too, had vanished.

Rebecca Reed had finally buried her husband.

He turned to look at her. There were dark hollows beneath her eyes, and her face was pale. She looked awful. “Has Kanemoto gone?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied stiffly. “He left early this morning. Donny drove him to the airport.”

Mac stood flat-footed, uneasiness building within him. “Are you really all right?” he asked.

“I'm fine.”

He wanted to tell her that she didn't look fine, but he didn't dare. “I came to say goodbye,” he said. “I'm flying out of Dawson in a few hours.”

She nodded, stone-faced. “Well, say it then, and be on your way. I have lots to do.”

He stared at her. She was as frigid as the February morning. He nodded slowly. “All right, then. Goodbye, Rebecca.”

“Goodbye,” she replied, walking to the door and opening it for him. He stared at her a few moments more and then walked out. Behind him the door closed with a sharp, hostile bang. He stood in the arctic entry and felt his bewilderment transform rapidly into desperate anger. Without thinking of what he meant to do or say, he turned and burst back into the room. She was standing right beside the door and he nearly ran right over her. She took two steps back and looked up at him.

“I can't believe you're treating me this way! Two nights ago you were treating me a little differently!”

A spark kindled in her eyes. “Two nights ago you weren't going back East! Brian tried to warn me that you'd never stick around a place like this. He said that after the race you'd probably take a high-paying job flying for British Airways, that you'd never stay out here in the boonies, as he called it. He warned me that something like this would happen. And it's all right, Mac. I understand. I really do. You don't have to explain anything to me. I don't blame you. Just please go. Don't make this any harder than it has to be!”

Mac drew a deep breath, counting silently to ten. When he spoke, his voice was calm and controlled. “Did it ever occur to you that Brian might not know what the hell he's talking about? Did that thought ever occur to you, Rebecca?” He was angry. Angry enough to stalk the perimeter of the little cabin as he spoke. He stopped before her and his voice lost a little of its self-restraint. “I came out here of my own accord, didn't I? I stayed, didn't I? I finished a race you told me I shouldn't even have started,
didn't I?
” The last sentence ended on a
raised and angry note. He wheeled around and stalked to the door, ripping it open and then changing his mind and slamming it shut again hard enough to make her jump. He spun around, whipping an envelope out of his pocket.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, extending it toward her. “The rest of the money I owe you, including what you had to shell out to get the watch back. I paid a little visit to that crook during our Dawson layover, so I know just how much he gouged you for it. I promised I'd repay you and I'm finally doing it, with interest. Bet you never thought I'd do that, either!”

When she didn't take the envelope from him, he flipped it onto the tabletop and turned toward the door again. He opened it and stepped through into the arctic entry, where he turned around one final time. “You're wrong about me, Rebecca. This may be the first time in your life you were wrong about anything, but you're wrong about me. You're way off base! And I'll be back,” he said. “As soon as this mess gets straightened out, I'll be back. We can finish this argument then!” He was halfway to his truck when he heard the cabin door open behind him.

“Mac?” Rebecca said in a small voice.

He stopped reluctantly, his blood hot with anger and frustration. He didn't know how to talk to her, didn't know what to say to her to make her understand, didn't know how to love her the way she obviously needed to be loved. He had never felt as completely inadequate as Rebecca made him feel. At length he turned and looked back at her because he didn't want to leave her this way, with all the harsh words spoken aloud and all the tender thoughts unvoiced.

“You didn't tell me you were planning to come back,” she said in a voice that trembled with emotion.

He stared at her for a few moments in disbelief. “How could you possibly think I wouldn't come back?” he said with an exasperated wave of both arms. “I'm in love with you, dammit! How could you possibly not know that?” His voice softened as he pleaded with her to understand. “I love you, Rebecca. I've never felt this way about anyone before, so maybe I'm not good at showing it, but I spent the second half of that hellish race thinking up names for our first child. I thought we might call her Sarah Elizabeth MacKenzie. Sally. A girl named Sally would have spark and spunk enough to be as strong as her beautiful mother.”

He looked up at her, standing there on the porch with her arm in a sling and her shorn hair curling around her face. The wind tugged a sad sigh from the spruce trees around the cabin and blew loose curls of dark hair about her eyes. She smoothed them away with her hand and stood like that, looking down at him with her hand pressed to the side of her face and an expression he couldn't begin to fathom. She shook her head slowly.

“You don't like the name Sally?” Mac said.

“I didn't know,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I didn't know you felt that way. I didn't know!”

“Rebecca, the reason I'm going back is because it means a lot to me to have my name cleared.” He stared out across the distance, as if searching for the right words to explain it to her. “I thought I didn't give a damn about that anymore, but the truth is, I do.” He gestured futilely again. “Oh, hell! It's not about getting away from this place, and it sure as hell isn't about getting away from you! Why can't you believe that?”

She looked down at him from the cabin porch and suddenly, right before his disbelieving eyes, Rebecca collapsed. She raised one hand to her face to shield it from him and half turned as if to flee back into the cabin, but her devastation was so complete that she sank slowly to her knees on the cabin porch and crumpled over herself. She knelt in rigid silence for several painful moments while Mac stood dumbfounded, transfixed by the sight of one of the strongest people he had ever known in a state of total collapse.

He took the steps two at a time and knelt beside her. “Rebecca, it's all right. Please don't cry. There's no reason for you to cry.” He drew her into his arms and she turned and clung to him, sobbing like a heartbroken child while he comforted her. He knelt with her for a long time before he raised her gently to her feet.

“I thought you were leaving,” she said, her slender body trembling in his embrace. “I thought you'd walk away from here and I'd never see you again.”

His strong arms tightened around her. “I'll never leave you, Rebecca. I'll die first.”

His ill-chosen words did little to comfort her. “Don't you ever die on me, Mac,” she said, lifting her face to him. It was streaming with tears and the sight brought the sting of tears to his own eyes. “Promise you'll never die on me!”

“That's a mighty tall order,” he said, “but I will if you will.”

She hiccuped, blinked the tears out of her eyes and gazed up at him for a silent moment, realizing how impossible a promise that was to keep. “Okay,” she said, smiling through her tears. “I promise I'll do my best not to.” She snuggled close to him, pressed the side of her head against his chest, listened to the strong, steady beat
of his heart, felt the rise and fall of his breathing. She drew a shaky breath of her own. “I'm sorry I doubted you, Mac. I guess I just don't understand what happened to you in the navy.”

Mac shook his head. “That's a long and sordid story. When I get back, maybe you could invite me over for dinner. I'll bring a bottle of wine, we'll tuck up close to your woodstove, and I'll tell it to you. I didn't do anything wrong, Rebecca. I swear to you, I did nothing that would ever shame you.”

“I know that, Mac,” she said, speaking softly and with absolute conviction. “You're the most honorable man I've ever known.”

Her words moved him deeply, and again his eyes stung with tears. He tightened his grip on her and bent his head over hers, breathing the sweetness of her. “I'll be back as soon as I can, as soon as it's over. I'll call Sam and Ellin and give them the number where I'll be staying. You can call me there. Collect. Call me every day. Promise me!”