Sharing Spaces (11 page)

“I guess you could say it was the hawks that lured me away from that damn place, but it was a kind of miracle, getting that envelope in the mail and reading the words I'd never thought to read: ‘Congratulations, you have been accepted to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology's School of Aeronautical Engineering…' That was the most exciting moment of my life. I kept the letter hidden in my pocket for a week before telling my parents.

“They'd been counting on me taking over the farm. They never understood my fascination with flight. They disapproved when I spent all of my summer money on flying lessons with Joe Robey, the local crop duster. They'd thought it was frivolous, irresponsible.

“My mother cried when I told her. My father just nodded his head and went back to work. Then I packed my things, climbed into my old Chevy truck, headed for
the east coast and never looked back.” Jack drained the last of his wine and stared out across the river.

“So you graduated M.I.T., and then you joined the Navy,” Senna prompted after a long silence.

“Yup. I flew some of the most sophisticated flying machines ever built, and I got to wear the leather jacket and the dark mirrored sunglasses, and sure enough, the ladies were wild about me. Life was good.”

Senna studied him as he spoke, and decided that if all he'd ever aspired to was to sweep floors as a janitor, the ladies would be no less wild about him.

“The flying was great,” he continued. “Then I got married. I didn't want to give up flying, especially when I made Navy flight test, and for a while everything was okay. But then things started to go wrong with my marriage, or maybe things had been going wrong for a long time and I just didn't realize it. I guess you were right about that. Military men should never marry. My wife filed for divorce. Shortly after that, your father was killed in a plane crash. A couple of years later I got this call from the admiral, asking me to come to Labrador.”

Senna wished the sky were a little brighter. She wanted to read his expression, but his eyes were dark hollows, gazing out across the distance. “Do you have any children?”

“None. Lisa wanted to wait until I got out of the service. I think that's one of the major reasons she divorced me. She wanted kids and a normal home life, and I kept reenlisting. Three months after our divorce was finalized, she married this accountant from her home town. A month later she was pregnant. She has two kids now, and you can be sure they won't grow up like you
did. Their father will be there for them, whether they like it or not.”

“Was your father in the Navy, too, before he became a farmer?”

“Nope. Drafted into the army, spent two tours over in 'Nam. Couldn't wait to get back to the farm. He died of a heart attack several years ago. I never had a chance to say goodbye. They buried him before I could get back home.”

Senna reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I know how hard it is to lose your father.”

J
ACK LOOKED AT
S
ENNA
and straightened in his chair. “Sorry to be so long-winded,” he said, pushing to his feet. “I'll get your sleeping bag out of the plane. It's been a long day and tomorrow won't be any shorter.” He walked down the steep ramp, the chill air bracing against him, clearing his head. Senna was a beautiful, compelling woman, and he'd been too long a bachelor. He was enjoying her companionship way too much. He picked up the sleeping bag from the passenger compartment and stood for a few moments, wondering if he should jump off the dock and let the icy waters cool his blood. She was, after all, intent on selling the admiral's half of the lodge and killing the old sea wolf's dreams. Somehow he had to convince her otherwise. He'd worked too hard to give up now, and he knew how heartless a woman could be about a man's dreams. His ex-wife had taught him that.

He carried the sleeping bag back up to the lodge. Senna was nowhere to be seen. He followed the small sounds, locating her in the farthest room with the stunning overlook of the rapids. “Trust a wedding planner to pick out the most scenic room,” he said, tossing the sleeping bag onto the new mattress. “I'll get you a pillow.”

“Got one already,” she said, turning from the window, which she'd opened to the sound of the river. He saw that she was holding a pillow to her as if she were cradling a baby.

“Flashlight?” he said, extending his arm.

“Love one, thanks,” she replied, taking it from him.

“See you in the morning, then.”

“You know,” she said when he was almost to the door, “there are five empty bedrooms up here. I don't see why you and Charlie shouldn't take advantage of these wonderful new mattresses.”

“Charlie feels closer to the admiral when he's in the guides' camp. It was where your grandfather stayed,” Jack explained as a strong gust of wind blew out of the north and pushed against the window panes, making a lonesome sound. He saw Senna's arms close more tightly around the pillow. “Of course, if you're afraid to stay up here by yourself…”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not afraid of being alone, and it isn't even really dark.”

“Well, if you should change your mind, there are four bunks in the guides' cabin.” He made the offer reluctantly, because the last thing he wanted was to toss and turn all night while she lay within arm's reach of him. “But I'll warn you in advance, the bunk mattresses aren't nearly as comfortable as these, and I've been told that I snore like a lumberjack.”

Senna moved so suddenly that she startled the darkness, plucking the sleeping bag off the bed, ducking past him and marching out the door. “So do I, for all I know,” she said over her shoulder, “but I'd feel guilty sleeping on one of those brand-new mattresses while the two of
you suffered and I doubt anything could keep either one of us awake tonight.”

 

S
ENNA COULDN'T HAVE BEEN
more wrong. As exhausted as she was, sleep eluded her, and she couldn't blame her sleeplessness on loud snoring or the hard mattress. She lay awake on the bunk directly above Jack, intensely aware of how close he was. She could hear his breathing. It was deep and steady. Not snoring. Not yet, anyway. But he was definitely asleep, as were Charlie and his little crackie. All of them were breathing the measured, even breaths of deep slumber while she lay wide awake, staring up into the darkness, listening to all the sounds of the night and the rapid beating of her heart.

Her thoughts whirled in confusion. She'd been so sure this morning of what the proper course of action would be. Wrap up everything as soon as possible and return home. Now, she wondered if selling the lodge immediately was wise. Maybe Jack was right….

No, he
was
right, no maybe about it. Operating the lodge for a mere three months would increase the property's value tenfold. Jack was right and she was wrong. Furthermore, the longer she knew him, the more she realized that although he had no experience in the hospitality industry, he was perfectly capable of running the place. In the morning she'd tell him of her decision. She would return to Maine for the summer, and he would run the lodge. In the fall, she'd put her share of the business on the market, and who knows, maybe with one successful season on the books Jack could then convince a bank to loan him the money to buy her out.

He loved the place. No doubt about it. He'd invested so much of himself in it, not just his money, but his time
and his labors and his dreams of the future. For Jack to lose the lodge now would be a terrible thing.

Senna rolled over with a sigh. This was all the admiral's fault. If he hadn't died, this wouldn't be happening. Why hadn't he just left everything to Jack? That would have made much more sense. It was obvious that the two of them had been great friends. She and the admiral had no such history, yet he'd left her his entire half interest in the business.

Why?

She rolled over again. Tomorrow she'd call Granville in Goose Bay and tell him about her decision to open the lodge for the summer. She'd call her mother to keep her apprised and call work to check on how things were going in the sales department.

Senna twisted restlessly within the confines of the sleeping bag. She heard the wind moan along the cabin's eaves, a mournful sound that made her shiver. There was movement in the bunk below her. Jack turning onto his side? She held her breath, listening. It sounded like he was still asleep. Good. She didn't want to disturb him with all her thrashing. Her thoughts tangled in a confused web and Jack Hanson was monopolizing more and more of them. She was lying here, wide awake, when she would have been better off arranging the living-room furniture up in the lodge or reading her grandfather's journal in the hopes of finding the answers to why she was here in the first place.

 

T
HE SMELL OF FRYING BACON
awoke Senna from what she believed had been a completely sleepless night. She lay in her bunk, cocooned within the warmth of the sleeping bag, and peeked down at the woodstove and the
man who stood over it, forking strips of bacon out onto a folded-up paper bag. Charlie and Ula were gone. Morning sunlight streamed through the window and she could see a patch of the river, smoke rising from the water. The morning air must be chilly. She sat up, brushing her hair out of her face. She'd slept in her clothing, so getting dressed was not the issue it might have been in front of a man she'd known for less than two days. She unzipped the bag, sat up and dangled her stockinged feet over the edge. “Good morning.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Morning. How many eggs do you want?”

“Two, please, and do I smell coffee?”

They ate at the little table by the window, not waiting for Charlie. “He and the crackie took the boat upriver,” Jack explained, buttering another slice of toast. “There's a place he likes to fish a bit beyond where we went yesterday.”

“Is it safe, him going off alone like that?”

“That kid has more common sense than most of the human population on this planet and he can survive in the wilderness, a skill not many have these days.”

“Does he have a life jacket?”

“Yes, Mother McCallum. More coffee?”

“Please.” Senna nudged her cup toward him. “I've been thinking about the lodge.”

Jack set the pot back on the stove, an easy reach for him. His expression was guarded. “What about it?”

“I think we should open in two weeks just as you had originally planned and run the lodge for the summer. My half will sell quicker and for a lot more money if we do, and the fact is, I can't afford the alternative of refund
ing all those advance deposits on top of the overdue bills.”

He lifted his cup and narrowed his eyes through wraiths of steam, regarding her silently over the brim. Senna was surprised at his reticence. She'd expected a much more enthusiastic reaction to her announcement. She finished the last of her breakfast and took another sip of coffee, wondering at his sudden reserve. “I thought you'd be pleased.”

“Oh, I am,” he said. “Three months is better than nothing. But I guess I'd be more pleased if you told me you'd decided to keep your half and honor your grandfather's dream. You might just discover that he was a man of great vision.”

Senna flushed. “Unfortunately that's not an option. When had you planned on moving Goody and her niece out here?”

“Goody was making up the list of provisions when the admiral died. We were going to bring her out right about now to help with the start-up.”

“Then perhaps you should go see her as soon as possible and make sure that the two of them can still come. I'll set up charge accounts at the various businesses to pay for what we'll need, and then you could start flying the supplies in. I'm assuming there's going to be a lot more stuff.”

“Yep.”

“And Goody's coopies have to be flown in, too?”

“Yep.”

“What about the sled dogs?”

“We were going to set up a dog yard out behind this cabin.”

Senna frowned. “Won't they howl?”

“Like a pack of wolves,” Jack said. “The sound will add to the wilderness atmosphere.”

“What about communications?”

“There's a satellite phone up in the lodge, behind the reception area. I'll show you where it is and how to operate it.”

“They're expensive, aren't they?”

“Hugely, but you can't run a business like this without a reliable form of communication.”

“We have less than two weeks to get the place ready and the clock is ticking,” Senna said, pushing out of her chair. “We'd better get started.”

“Wait a minute.” Jack stood, instantly dwarfing the small cabin. His expression was guarded. “We need to talk about where you'll be staying. Goody's cabin is smaller than this one, and it only has two bunks. I hope the rooms up at the lodge will be fully booked all summer. We could build an addition onto the back of Goody's cabin, or set you up with a cabin of your own, but that'll take some time. I'm thinking you should take this cabin. It doesn't have running water, but it's comfortable, and Charlie and I can set up tents for the guides.”

Senna held up her hand to silence him. “Not to worry. I'll only be staying for as long as I had originally planned, and then I'm heading back to Maine and the rest of the summer will be up to you.” She picked the plates up off the table on her way to the little sink. “And you needn't worry about my cramping your bachelor lifestyle for the next two weeks,” she said over her shoulder. “I'll move my things into a room up at the lodge just as soon as I've cleaned up here. You were right about the bunk mattress. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night.”

 

J
ACK PACED UP TO THE LODGE
, head down, shoulders rounded, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He should be feeling good about things. The admiral's granddaughter was going to help get the lodge ready for business and wait until summer's end before putting her half of it on the market. This was what he'd hoped she would decide when she saw the place, and yet when she'd made the announcement he'd felt as if the earth had suddenly tipped on its axis and thrown him off balance.

Maybe it was the way she'd been sitting there at the table, hair mussed from the pillow, eyes drowsy with sleep, cheeks flushed from the heat of the woodstove, looking about as real as a woman ever looked first thing in the morning, and as beautiful as the morning itself. Maybe it was the way her slender hands cradled the coffee mug, or the graceful way she raised a forkful of eggs to her mouth, or the way she gazed out the window, contemplating the river while she sipped her coffee. Maybe it was the way she'd tossed and turned all night long, sighing her restless dilemmas into the silence. Maybe it was the way she'd listened to him talking about his farm-boy upbringing the night before, as if she was really interested, as if she really cared.

Whatever the reason, when she'd said she was only staying until the lodge was ready to open, he should have felt glad that she was at least volunteering to pitch in and help with the start-up, then trusting him to run the lodge by himself. But instead he'd felt even more unsettled. Eleven more days of sharing this place with her, of rubbing shoulders with the admiral's granddaughter. The idea hadn't seemed that dangerous a couple of days ago, but now, for some reason, it was disturbing as hell.

Still, it would give him more time to convince her that she shouldn't sell out. Jack trotted up the porch steps, entered the lodge and immediately began ripping into the unopened crates. He had to get this stuff unpacked, move everything into the guest rooms and arrange the living room properly before flying out, because when they returned they'd be bringing more stuff and still more stuff after that. Every flight would be jammed to the guppers until opening day, and then he'd be ferrying guests back and forth and guiding clients on the river and the nearby lakes. So much to do. No time to wonder about this uneasy churn of feelings in his gut.

By the time Senna arrived, carrying her sleeping bag, pillow and flashlight, Jack had moved all the bureaus and chairs into the rooms and was assembling the little pine bedside tables. She deposited her things in the room she'd chosen the night before and began hanging the stacks of framed prints, tapping picture hangers into the logs, hanging the picture, then stepping back to critically appraise the placement.

“I'd put that one over the mantelpiece,” Jack suggested, glancing up in time to see her leveling the print.

“Oh? I think it looks fine right where it is. I like these Audubons, but what on earth do they have to do with Labrador?”

“Labrador has ducks,” Jack pointed out. “We ate one last night.”

“Yes, and out of season, too. Good thing there were no wardens lurking about. I think the lodge should have original artwork appropriate to the place.”