Catch of the Year (15 page)

“That settles it.” Paul stepped into his khaki shorts and zipped them up. “I'd rather have you all to myself, so let's go into Spanish.”

It wasn't long before they set off in the convertible. Spinning along, with Paul's knee not far from hers, so handy for a squeeze now and then, her sunglasses in place, protecting her eyes from the bright glare, Jade exulted in the day, in her body's fulfillment, in the sunshine that bathed her and Paul in warmth, and in the breeze that mitigated the heat it brought. Being with him was like living in a juicy wonderland.

She rested her arm along the top of the passenger door and smiled at the groovy seventies' hits Paul had put in the CD player. This was so cool. She loved riding the hog, but for once she was happy to let someone else be in charge and do the driving so she could sit back and enjoy.

In Spanish, they bought fresh food, cold cuts for a late lunch, and steaks for the barbecue. They were loading the bags into the back of the car when Jade heard her name being called.

“Yoo hoo … Seren-dipity!”

The voice was scratchy with age, but even so, Jade recognized the tones of her high school English teacher. There she was, walking briskly toward them, as upright as ever, her salt and pepper hair impeccably coiffed.

Jade stepped back onto the sidewalk to greet her.

“Mrs. Townsend! How are you?” She introduced Paul and noted the appreciative twinkle in the older woman's eyes. Behind the thick glasses she wore, they still shone with interest, intelligence, and humor.

“Pretty good and enjoying my retirement years. Although sometimes I miss being around moody teenagers.”

Jade laughed. “That's hard to believe.”

“Still enjoying that high-powered job of yours at the a — ”

“Yes, it's terrific. Thank you.”

Paul looked at her enquiringly, his eyebrows raised.

More lies. Jade could just see all this bad karma, piling up like overdue, library-book fines.

Mrs. Townsend nodded benevolently at them.

“I'd better get on. Give my regards to your parents.”

They said good-bye. Jade was just about to climb into the car when she noticed a happy-looking couple with two children walking toward them. Jenny and Kevin had been in her class, high school sweethearts who had married soon after graduation.

She pushed the car door shut again. “Sorry, Paul, but I have to say hi.”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Hey you two!” She stepped onto the sidewalk once again. “How are you doing?”

Kevin slowed and brought the baby buggy to a stop. Jenny gave a broad grin. “Dipity! We haven't seen you in an age.”

“No, but I can see what you two have been up to,” she teased. “Congratulations.”

Jenny was holding the hand of a little girl. A floral cotton hat sat on a head of blond curls. The toddler stuck a finger in her mouth and looked up at Jade with big eyes.

“Hi sweetie! And who are you?”

“Me Ficity,” she said.

Jade looked to her mother for clarification.

“Felicity,” she explained.

Peeking into the baby carriage, Jade saw a small bundle, eyes and fists shut tight. “And the baby?”

“That's Brent. Born six weeks ago today. This is his first real outing.” Kevin's voice rang with pride.

“Well, he's not paying much attention to it, is he?” Paul commented in a comical way, coming to stand next to Jade. Again, she made the introductions and saw Kevin and Jenny exchange speculative glances. Now they'd think she and Paul were together. Word would get around. But there was nothing she could do about that. She was glad to see her old friends and was struck by the air of quiet contentment that hung around the little family like an aura. Marigold's words, but how else to describe it?

Gazing down at the baby's wispy hair and serene expression caused something to unfold in Jade's chest, a warm, mushy melting. She had to restrain herself from reaching down and picking up the little babe, holding him to her, cuddling him.

The four of them chatted for a few minutes.

“We'd better get on,” Jenny said. “Can't have the little ones out in this heat for too long … . It was great seeing you, Dipity. Look us up next time you're in town.”

Jade waved at Felicity until they were out of sight.

“Now I'm hot.” She caught Paul's arm and smiled up at him. “I'll treat you to an iced coffee.”

Amused eyes glinted down into hers. The dimple showed. “These things you can get in Spanish?”

“Of course.”

They'd no sooner ordered and sat down when Jade was hailed yet again. This time it was a friend of Marigold's who got up from a nearby table and came over to greet her and meet Paul. Jade was glad to see her, but she was beginning to feel time was a-wasting.

“Next time,” Paul said when they finally got into the car, “we go into Blind River.”

Next time. How promising, how sweet that sounded. The tragedy was, for her and Paul, there'd never be a next time.

Jade had the knack of being able to set her internal clock so she woke at whatever hour she wished. At five o'clock on Sunday morning, she lay next to Paul, gazing out at the dawn. On Friday she'd told herself she'd done exactly the right thing in coming here to be with him for another weekend. Now she was afraid that might not be true, that perhaps it had been completely the wrong thing. Something niggling inside her insisted it was possible she'd made a Very Grave Mistake.

She hadn't realized so much could happen in so short a time, how close she would feel to him, as if invisible links had woven between and over them, creating something precious, beyond just sex, although the lovemaking had certainly begun the process. And she was about to deliberately destroy all that. If she didn't make a clean cut now, today, right this morning, so much would be in jeopardy: all her years of effort to get ahead in her career, the agency's future, not to mention Adrian's. And if her parents had to move, go back to a hand-to-mouth existence … . The very thought brought her out in a cold sweat.

All this meant she couldn't allow herself to dream. Life demanded she be pragmatic, and that's what she'd be. No matter if it brought up an aching sense of loss.

The alternative, to tell Paul the truth, was unthinkable. At work, they'd never gotten along well. Finding out Jade and Dipity were one and the same was certain to send him into orbit.

Oh God, how could that one thoughtless, instinctive reaction when she fled away from a stranded Paul have cost her so dear?

The sun's rays shone onto the bed, warm and golden. Staring blankly, she lay there, Paul's long body next to hers, one leg hooked over her, as if making sure she didn't go away. But that was exactly what she had to do. Forever. Before he could ask her how he could contact her, before she jeopardized her carefully built life any further.

Inch by inch, she slid out of bed. Paul slept on. As she took in his peaceful expression, the dark eyelashes underlining the curve of his closed lids, the shadow of his morning beard outlining the firm jawbone and contrasting with the smooth flesh of his lips, something moved within her. She longed to bend over and press her lips to his one last time. Stifling her regret, she straightened, closed her eyes for a couple of seconds against the threatening tears. At least she'd always be able to remember this brief time with him in paradise.

She dressed quietly, gathered her things together, and crept out of the cabin. It was a good thing Paul had been sleeping so soundly.

The walk back to the resort soothed her a little. This time the trees along the tranquil country road seemed to reach their branches toward her, as if to comfort her as she trudged along. Jade couldn't help thinking about the difference in her feelings between now, leaving Paul and all that had happened between them behind, and Friday, during her walk in the dark when she hadn't been sure of her reception. The weekend had turned out to be more intimate, more companionable, more fun, and more wonderfully sexy than she could have imagined. Ah well. Even the best fantasies had to end.

If only her situation could have been different.

The surface of the lake was like glass. Jade almost regretted having to disturb the waters, but home she must go.

She found Marigold already busy in her garden, picking red currants.

“You going to make muesli with those?”

Her mom looked over her shoulder in surprise. “Dipity! I didn't expect you back yet.”

“I decided best to slip out early. That way, no questions could be asked.”

Marigold stripped another handful of berries off the bush, dropped them into the bowl she carried and turned toward her daughter. “So you're really going to end the whole thing now?”

Jade nodded.

“Never see Paul again?”

“You know I will. I'll see him tomorrow, at the agency.”

“Won't that be difficult?”

“Yup, but I'll just have to deal with it.”

A frown marred her mom's usually serene expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something more and closed it again. Jade was grateful. She knew Marigold had been hoping for great things from her getting together with Paul, but the reality was, it was over.

By the time Jade met Fred at the hanger, dark, angry clouds clustered on the horizon, threatening a storm.

Fred was making his final inspection of the float plane.

“All ready to go?” she asked. “Or will the storm delay us?”

“No, we'll be okay, Dipity.” He glanced up at the sky, then at her. “We'll be flying away from the weather, so I'll get you back okay, no problem. You'll be at work tomorrow morning, same as usual.”

She knew Fred meant to reassure her, but all she felt was sick at heart. Like a robot she went through the usual procedures and soon they were up in the air. She gazed absently at the passing clouds, detached from herself and the earth. The weekend had been a dream. She and Paul had laughed together and loved together. Often. Now, how was she going to find the strength, the necessary mindset, to close the book on their fling and get over it? This was going to be a far harder task than she'd ever envisaged.

The small plane bumped and dipped.

Her stomach lurched with the plane, and she gripped the seat. Where was Paul now, she wondered. Had he swung by her parents' house? In any case, he'd be driving back into the city. Maybe they were flying right over him, or maybe he was stuck in the returning weekend traffic. Wherever he was, he was surely wondering why, after they'd had such a fabulous time together, Serendipity had simply disappeared, run out on him without a word.

The storm must have caught up with them after all, because her vision was blurred from the falling rain. She touched her cheek and found that it was wet.

• • •

Paul stretched out an arm. Finding no warm shape nearby, he patted the sheet and the mattress. Nothing. He opened his eyes. Serendipity must be in the bathroom.

Minutes went by and he heard no sound. All right. Most likely she'd gone for a swim in the lake. Already he knew that about her, how she loved to be outside in the fresh morning air. Groggily he wiped a hand over his face, the bristle of beard on his chin.

Thinking he'd go join her, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, and wandered out onto the stoop. No one. Only the still, hushed air of a beautiful summer Sunday.

He went back inside and checked the small house. This was ridiculous. She wouldn't run out on him again. Not for the fourth time. Not after all they'd shared.

Of course not. Sooner or later she was bound to appear. She'd manifest like a sprite in the woods, naked, teasing him with an adult game of hide-and-seek.

She had to be out there somewhere. Nope. Down at the small beach, he saw no sign of life apart from birds, bugs, two squirrels, and a chipmunk.

This was weird. Made no sense. Apart from anything else, together they'd had the best sex ever. It couldn't have been a one-way street.

He'd presumed they'd travel back to the city together, so she must have popped across the lake to say good-bye to her family. Yes, that made sense. Although, she could have left a note.

In the meantime, he could work on the sculpture. Make use of new inspiration. There wouldn't be room to take the Spirit of the Lake back in the car, but Steve would surely be okay with storing it in the shed for a while.

Sculpting in the city would present a problem. Of course, there was always Eleanor, the wealthy woman who'd offered to sponsor him. She'd help if he wanted to rent a studio. No, that idea was simply too way out to consider seriously.

Paul got caught up in the sculpture. Each piece of wood he chiseled away brought him closer to Serendipity, made him feel he was discovering more about her, unveiling the beauty of her form, her being. He felt the glow of her presence again, remembered little incidents of the past hours, recalled how they'd been so good together. Going back to the bachelor life, with transient girlfriends, no longer appealed. No, in this too he needed to do an assessment.

Lost in his process of artistic creation, he didn't notice time going by until his gut rumbled. He looked at his watch. Early afternoon already.

With a feeling of foreboding, he headed back to the cabin. Only when he was inside did it register: Serendipity's things were gone. No neat hairbrush lay next to his comb on the rough wooden dresser, no leather weekend bag lay on the circular rag rug.

He didn't at all like the nasty, insidious feeling that churned his gut and hovered around his heart.

Surely she'd return soon.

He started packing his things, but gave up. Instead, he drifted down to the shore again and stood gazing across the water. Time to face facts. She wasn't going to reappear, as he'd presumed. Anger at her desertion rose in him. What could have been in her mind?

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he kicked at the cold ashes of the fire. How could she do this? Sure, they hadn't discussed anything about the future. Somehow he'd imagined there'd be plenty of time. In the enjoyment of the moment he hadn't mentioned anything about making plans. Maybe that was why she had left? Maybe she thought she should walk away before he did.