Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight (36 page)

The next morning at breakfast, in another
turn of overwhelming indulgence, but unassailable logic, Gray
presented me with a newer version of the same camera, but with even
more memory and upgraded features. I tried to dismiss the gift in
embarrassed irritation, but he assured me that I’d thank him later
if I dropped, or splashed water on, or heaven forbid I lost, what
was, in effect, my baby stepsister. Thinking through the
ramifications of such plausible scenarios changed my mind, and
Gray’s suggestion that I simply place the memory card full of
pictures back inside Hoyt’s camera before returning the camera to
him appealed to my fondness for sly ruses, perpetrated on parental
authorities, sealing the deal.

I was secretly, however begrudgingly,
delighted with my awesome new toy, which Gray also referred to as
my graduation present, and I used it to gather images of our hotel
and the incredible surroundings. I collected shots of scenes around
Upper Waterfowl Lake, Kicking Horse River and the Canadian Pacific
Railway, as it cut a path through the wilderness. And then there
were the views at Lake Louise where the camera’s password
protection feature that could be used on individual images proved
invaluable—just like the digital memories it guarded.

This place I was standing in today was so
panoramically diverse in majesty, grandeur and picturesque
perfection that I could have been legally blind and still shot
cover photos for National Geographic. It sounds like an
exaggeration, but the description couldn’t do justice to the
beauty. Words simply weren’t up to the task.

Gray was highly perceptive and I knew he had
sensed the change in me after my life-altering encounter at the
head of Lake Louise. Even an unperceptive person would have picked
up on it, but to his credit, he did not ask me to explain myself.
Yet just as I had feared, there was no way to contain the aura of
joy radiating out of me, and broadcasting with particular and
intractable intensity from the vicinity of my chest.

After a stern lecture from the park
representative about staying on the trails, and not picking flowers
and avoiding the bears, we set off from the parking lot to explore
the paradise beyond. The trail took us along the edge of a lake
which color was the very same shade as my engagement ring. Perhaps
my ring wasn’t made from a frozen drop of water from a tropical sea
after all. Maybe it was truly a drop of Lake O’Hara, turned to
stone. That possibility made me smile as I unconsciously patted my
chest and the forms of my locket and my ring securely stowed there
under my shirt, reassuring myself of their presence. It would be so
wonderful when I could wear them openly without any fears.

We left the view of the most dazzlingly
beautiful lake imaginable behind us as the trail opened to an
Alpine meadow, bearing a profusion of wildflowers. I had to stop
every several yards to take pictures, as one vista was topped by
the next in this place.

After crossing over stepping stones at the
edge of lazy tarn and a footbridge spanning an icy stream, the
trail led us into a climb up the side of a glacier-clad peak. Gray
was quiet while we walked, taking my hand as we crossed over wet
spots, but then releasing me when the trail was more suited for
single file progression.

We reached a ridge and made a sharp turn
into a completely different environment, leaving green behind for a
strange, rocky landscape that was somehow just as beautiful, in a
bleak and barren way. Gray explained that we were walking over a
massive rockslide. Passage here became more difficult and I had to
really concentrate on my footing. There simply could be no walking
and looking at the scenery on this portion of the trail, unless I
was interested in viewing things from the perspective of belly or
my butt. My close attention to the two feet of ground ahead of me
helped to preserve the shock and surprise of the vista that awaited
me as we finally crested to a more level place, with large flat
rocks on which to sit and observe the part of the trail that I had
missed while concentrating on moving but not falling.

Here high in this moonscape indentation in
the mountain was an opalescent lake, rich with minerals leached
from the glacier high above, sitting like a sunken iridescent jewel
in the side of the mountain. It was completely hidden from lower
elevations, but the view was a huge reward for the energy expended
to reach the spot.

We settled on one of the large flattened
boulders perched above Lake Oesa and stared quietly at the scene. I
lost myself and all track of time peering at the strange but lovely
colors of the unusual body of water below. Eventually, I became
aware that Gray was not looking at the lake—he was turned slightly
and staring at me. I tried to ignore this for as long as I could,
but I started to feel rude and I was tired of pretending not to
notice any way, so I turned to meet his gaze. The look in his eyes
was intense and brooding, and kind of scary, actually. My reaction
quickly registered with him and his eyes seemed to soften a degree
as they bored into my own, mining for secrets, it felt like.

“Did you know that you were with me the last
time I sat here? But I prefer this version of you infinitely
more.”

He smiled, breaking free of his dark
abstraction and taking my hand, rubbing it between both of his own
to warm up my icy skin.

“That was about this time last year. What
were you doing last June?”

“Sleeping.”

And thinking about you, and being miserable
when I wasn’t sleeping. How ironic.

He chuckled at my non-committal answer.

“I wondered what it would be like to bring
the most beautiful girl on earth to the most beautiful place on
earth. Now I know. It’s nice.”

He brought my now warmer hand up to his lips
to kiss it. I started to pull back before I could catch myself,
knowing I’d have to answer for my behavior—for that action and all
of them that had led me to this moment here with him today.

“Something’s changed in you, and I’m trying
to understand it. I thought you felt the same for me as I do for
you…but now…it doesn’t seem like it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

It was coercion. He had not let go of my
hand, and I knew he had no intention of doing so until he got his
answer from me—the answer he wanted. I breathed deep and sighed
longingly.

How could I frame the truth in a way he
could understand, and accept? I knew it was impossible. He wasn’t
going to take any variation of ‘no’ for an answer from me. I still
had to be truthful with him, though. He deserved that much from
me.

“You’re right. About everything. I used to
have a huge crush on you. At Grandpa’s funeral, seeing you again,
holding me the way you did, made me lovesick for you, all over
again. But you never called. I was depressed and heartbroken and
miserable. I knew I was too young, and that you had better things
to do. It took a while, but I finally got over it. I met someone
else, who does call me. I’m better now.”

His calm façade would have been convincing,
if I hadn’t seen his eyes. There was a violent storm brewing there,
ready to break out over me.

“Why are you here then, if you love someone
else?”

He had moved in closer. His tone was even,
but there was an edge of desperation.

“Because I was invited to be an intern on a
geological survey.”

I was starting to feel and sound very
defensive.

“And you didn’t think there was any more to
it than that?” There was derisiveness in his tone now. My hackles
were all the way up.

“I think my suspicions were correct, that my
‘intern’ job was just a joke, a ploy, so that you could have
another one of your pets with you on your trip…like Dana.”

Dana was his girlfriend who had accompanied
him to Reykjavik. She wasn’t really an intern either.

His face looked like I’d slapped him.

Good.

There was a very long and uncomfortable
pause, but I had nothing else to say. I returned to gazing at the
lake.

“Ellie, honey, the only person here with a
master…is me.”

His demeanor transformed. He looked
defeated. I frowned, but the uncertainty I felt must have played
clearly in my eyes. He explained.

“You’ve owned me since the night I met you.
You don’t understand that do you?”

He looked away, seeing something far away.
He was still looking away when he began speaking again.

“When you came to Reykjavik, and my dad
asked me to take you with me on that snowmobile trip the first
week, I was pissed. I’m the future president of the company, right?
Not a baby-sitter. But part of running a company is handling the
details and accepting challenges. So I sucked it up and played
Grayson Poppins. But then you turned out to be so smart, and cute,
and…bizarrely funny.”

He looked over at me, checking my reaction
to see if he was giving offense.

“I couldn’t read you at all, obviously, but
it seemed pretty clear that you weren’t impressed with me. I’d
never encountered that before…in girls, at least.”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow, wordlessly
acknowledging his own arrogance.

“When it dawned on me how I was feeling
about you, I was disgusted with myself. You were just a little
girl, for crying out loud. I didn’t want to believe I was in love
with you. I was angry and way into denial. I went back to school
and things got better after a while, but then I saw you again at
the funeral.”

He paused, thinking deeply for a moment.
Then he rubbed his forehead, as though it hurt.

“That pushed me over the edge. Once I got
back to Cambridge, I was miserable. I couldn’t stop seeing your
face and hearing your voice in my mind. I couldn’t function. It was
so bad I was ready to pack up and move to Louisville.”

He looked away again, shaking his head as if
to banish an unpleasant thought. After a pause he began again.

“Dad showed up unannounced in England; he
was that worried about me.”

He sighed and his expression looked like he
was admitting a fault.

“He’s my best friend. I told him everything.
I had to confess because he wouldn’t leave until I explained why I
was so messed up…and depressed.”

He looked deep into my eyes now, searching
for something. I could tell he was deciding about what to say
next.

“Then he made me a deal. He promised to keep
an eye on you for me if I’d just get my head on straight and finish
my obligations at Cambridge and let you finish yours in high
school. It was only for a year or so.”

There it was: that final piece in the
puzzle, making the picture perfectly clear. If only I had known.
Why did everything have to be a secret?

He laughed, nervously, but there was only
discomfort in the sound of it—no mirth.

“Ellie, I’ve been in love before. But not
like this. Never like this, but in a way. I know what it’s like and
I just couldn’t do that to you, not until you were old enough to
handle it, to do something about it. I had to sit back and bide my
time, waiting until I thought you were ready, hoping no one would
steal you before I came back…but keeping an eye on things to make
sure. If anybody made a move on you, I was going to be right there,
blocking.”

He laughed, but again, there wasn’t any
humor.

“Guess I couldn’t block what I didn’t
see.”

What I didn’t see ruined my life for a
while. What he didn’t see brought me back from the dead. And now I
had one foot in both worlds.

I was starting to understand him but I was
still on the defensive.

“Why didn’t you call me or send me a
postcard or an e-mail? I figured you didn’t care. What was I
supposed to think?”

He nodded, acknowledging my logic.

“I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t feel like I
could engage you directly and not take it too far. So instead, I
settled for sending you care packages every month, always on the
seventeenth, until you turned eighteen, then always on the
eighteenth. Did you not receive them?”

Care packages?

“What are you talking about? What care
packages?”

I asked the question, but a sickening
awareness was settling in, and I knew that hearing the answer would
be like opening the door on a monster in the closet.

“Well, the first month I sent you seventeen
yellow roses.”

I remembered that. I thought they were a
belated gesture for the funeral from a tardy sympathizer, wishing
to remain anonymous. I nodded, confirming their receipt.

“The next month I sent you the big box full
of every size Hershey Bar they make.”

I remembered that too. It was sort of like
the game show ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’ but with the theme
‘Who Wants to Eat Chocolate?’ instead. I chuckled at the memory. I
was delighted, initially, at the jackpot of chocolate I’d received,
and the funny, homemade trivia game that accompanied it, but ever
since then I hadn’t been able to eat another Hershey Bar. I
probably never would again.

“When you got your license I sent you the
little pink Corvette.”

He smiled big at his memory of that. I did
too.

“That was you? I loved that! But how did you
know to include a Skipper, instead of a Barbie?”

He seemed pleased to explain.

“Well, I heard your grandpa call you
‘Skipper’ and I took a chance. It seemed pretty likely, though. You
do look very much like a Skipper doll, you know,” he teased me.

“Yeah, I know. Short, skinny and no chest. A
perfect likeness. Wonderful isn’t it?” I retorted in a
self-deprecating huff.

His eyes melted and I could feel the
answering warmth in my chest.

“Yes. You’re wonderful, Ellie. I think
you…and your chest…are absolutely perfect.”

He smiled that rakish grin I loved and I
tried to focus on that instead of being embarrassed about my
Skipper figure, which he’d just commented on.