Wind Shadow (5 page)

As soon as she was standing, he let her go, and Silky had the feeling that even that short contact had been too long to suit him. Without further comment, Wade walked briskly to his bike. Hurriedly, she moved up beside him, flicking her kickstand away from the ground. Lashes lowered, examining her white tennis shoes, she mumbled something that she hoped sounded like a positive response. She couldn’t imagine what she had done to make him treat her so—so
coldly
all of a sudden. Any minute now she expected him to turn around and ask to see her driver’s license!

“I’ll lead. Try to stay in my wind shadow.”

She blinked misty green eyes at him. “Your what?” It came out a little brokenly.

He glanced down at her, something vaguely akin to disappointment in his dark eyes. “Wind shadow. It means the same thing as drafting.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a melancholy smile. “And—no. I didn’t read that in the
National Geographic.
”

Breaking their thoroughly disturbing eye contact,
Wade swung his leg over the bike. Settling on the saddle, he pushed harder than necessary on his high pedal, propelling himself forward with a vengeance. Either he assumed Silky would follow, or he didn’t care if she did, because he didn’t look back.

Chapter Four

B
ack so soon?” Annie asked over her shoulder, then continued without waiting for an answer, “You’ll notice that after all Rex’s yammering about going too slow, we’re not exactly whizzing along at the speed of sound.” She let out a disdainful laugh. “But the
good
news is, after facing that head wind for a few hours, Rexie-boy’ll be too tired to be his obnoxious self tonight!”

Silky, still trailing, grimaced at Annie’s sarcasm as Wade interjected, “I saw our trucker friend parked at a truck stop about two miles back.”

“You mean the guy with the fist?” Annie nodded, her red plastic helmet flashing reflected sunlight with the movement. “Yeah. Passing
that place was the
only
time Rex got up a really good head of steam!”

Silky thought she could hear a low chuckle as Wade pulled farther onto the shoulder, out of the line of bikers. Motioning her forward, he slowed until they were riding abreast, looking over at her for the first time since they had left the field some twenty minutes ago. His strong-boned face was bland, his dark eyes strangely seductive. They were devoid of anger—or, she was unaccountably distressed to note, any particular interest. “Move on up. I’ll take the tail position,” he directed quietly before slowing further and pulling in behind her.

She didn’t have time to open her mouth until he was at her back, so she just kept it closed. A tremor of apprehension slid up her spine at having him back there. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she just didn’t want to do anything foolish in front of him—literally. He was already irritated with her, and was probably just waiting for her to do something wrong so that he could act superior!

Of course, she’d done fine so far, managing to stay in the tight pack without doing anything to hurt herself or anyone else. There was no reason to believe she couldn’t continue to do as well. Besides, she vowed as her hands tightened around her taped handlegrips, if a thirteen-year-old child could keep up, so could she!

Moments passed. Uncomfortable moments.
How irritating
, Silky thought. She was positive she could feel Wade staring at her. Swallowing
hard, she shifted in her saddle, trying to get more comfortable. Highly distressed by her overactive imagination, she berated herself.
You can’t feel a look, dummy!
It was a ridiculous idea, one unworthy of her. But worthy or no, she did feel his stare. It burned through the wispy pink nylon, at first just below her shoulder blades. Then it moved down, warming her hips with the heat of a flamethrower through a spiderweb. She tried to think of other things: of the fragrant crimson blur of wild cranberries that blanketed a cool tundra valley they were passing; of the majesty of Denali, receding into the distance. But no matter how she tried to turn her thoughts away, she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being so closely watched that it was having a peculiar warming effect on her skin—a tingling warmth that had nothing to do with the radiant heat of the sun beating down overhead.

Lunch was a brief scurry of buying at a tiny mom-and-pop grocery where canned fruit juice, packaged nuts and fresh fruits were grabbed up with the gusto of children given free rein in a candy store.

“Hey, Sil!” Rex called from the front door, propped open to catch the breeze. “Leonard is going to take our picture.”

Picking up her change and slipping it into the tiny nylon pocket inside her waistband, Silky grabbed her apple juice, banana and bag of dried fruit and nut trail mix. “Okay,” she agreed, “but first let’s find a shady spot to put the food.” Breezing out into the bright sunshine,
she squinted as she looked around. “And I’d like to get this helmet off for at least
one
picture.” Motioning with an elbow, she indicated a lone spruce that didn’t have a milling group of hungry bikers clustered beneath it. “What about that one?”

“Good.” Rex turned to where Leonard was uncasing his camera. “Len, the blue spruce by the corner.”

Silky had just put down her lunch and slid her helmet strap over her handlebars when Leonard and Annie strolled up. Annie was munching from a can of macadamia nuts. She’d taken off her helmet, too, as had most everyone. “Okay,” she announced, “camera crew’s here. Where do we set up?”

Ignoring her joking question, Rex raised a mocking brow, intoning loftily, “Macadamia nuts? Well, aren’t we the gourmet.” There was just a touch of superior smirk quivering about his lips.

Annie’s hazel eyes narrowed slightly, but she retained a pleasant enough expression. Nevertheless, Silky sucked in an uneasy breath. You could never predict what might happen when these two got within strangling distance of each other.

Nonchalantly, Annie popped several nuts into her mouth. “I’m proud of you, Rex,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know you could read words with nine letters.”

Rex smiled coldly. “You know, Annie dear,
since you are what you eat, besides
nuts
, you must have a fondness for frogs’ legs.”

Annie made a mockery of what a smile was supposed to be. “Rex, darling? Did you know that, raised up on your hind legs like that, you look
almost
human?”

Silky, tensed for disaster, caught Rex’s hand in both of hers, feeling it turn into a fist within her fingers. At the same instant, Silky heard Leonard ask rather anxiously, “Say, Ann! Uh—I just noticed, my camera’s battery’s dead. I’d really be grateful if you could let me borrow yours.” With his last words, he took her by her stiffened shoulders and gently propelled her away.

Turning toward Rex, Silky’s mind fumbled wildly for a safe topic. Batteries? Pictures? “Rex?” She gingerly patted his fist before sliding her hand up to take his wrist. “Let’s decide where to stand for the shot.”

He turned slowly, mechanically, but when his eyes settled on her face, his expression lost its stoniness. “What is it, Sil?”

She smiled, relieved that, once again, the “Annie-Rex” megaton bomb had been successfully defused. “Do you want the picture in front of the grocery store? I mean how often does a person get to shop in ‘Grizzly Joe’s Quick Go’?” She pointed toward the dusty storefront window. “And those old metal signs for products of the twenties. They’re wonderful.”

Leonard interrupted in a voice that was louder
than necessary. “Well! For goodness sake, the battery’s fine in this thing after all.” Turning and waving an arm toward Annie, he shouted, “Say, Toone, I’ve got power here. Just sit down and have some of my herb tea.” Brushing a hand through his oversized moustache, he added with forced casualness, “I’ll be right there.”

Annie glowered back at them, but to her credit, she didn’t advance for another attack.

“Oh? A picture. Good idea, Huff.” It was Wade’s unmistakable baritone. “Everybody! Leonard’s going to get a shot of us in front of the store.”

Amid laughter and jovial shoving for position, Rex was pushed away from Silky. Annie, seemingly recovered from her pique, hurried over to act as stage director. “Okay Randy, kneel by your daddy there in front. Now you two smile! Well, that’s fair. No, Beth. You and Dan quit kissing.” She rolled her eyes for an instant before going on, “Wade, you’re okay there behind Silky.” Her take-charge smile vanished, and she gestured broadly. “Rex, why don’t you move waaaayyy over to the left there and squat down behind Mr. Grizzly.”

Everybody laughed but Rex and Silky—and perhaps one other person. Wade was standing directly behind Silky and, though she could feel his breath against her hair, she could swear that she didn’t hear him laugh.

Finally, when everyone was posed between Mr. and Mrs. “Grizzly Quick Go,” both chubby,
and both in overalls, Leonard snapped the photo.

A second picture was taken when a rattletrap pickup pulled in and its long-haired youthful driver, an Alaskan Aleut teenager, was convinced—for the price of a cold drink—to snap a frame with Annie squeezed unsmiling between Rex and Leonard in the middle of an otherwise happy-looking group.

Hours and hours, miles and miles later, with Wade leading, they wheeled into a wooded clearing where camp was quickly set up, jobs divided, and a bathing schedule devised. Tonight was special for Fairbanks, for it was the day that they celebrated the year’s longest day by hosting a Midnight Sun baseball game with the local Gold Panners. They were one of the top nonprofessional teams in the country, and would play at midnight at the Growden Memorial Stadium without artificial light. Sag Pack planned to attend in force.

“If you think you’re going to that baseball game, jive turkey, you’d better take a deep peek at that creek.”

Silky had unrolled her bedroll and was zipping up her tent when she heard the unmistakable “disk-jockeyese” of Mr. Douglas, Randy’s father.

“Awe, Ice Man, I ain’t dirty.”

“Oh yeah? Well, if you’re not, you’re doing a pretty good imitation of it.” Silky stole a look through her lashes as the elder Douglas lifted his mirrored sunglasses to squint at the boy. He
exhaled rather tiredly. “Look, kid. I gotta sit next to you, so give me a break, and scrub.” He pushed his glasses back into place on his slightly bent nose and gave Randy a swift swat on his cutoffs-clad backside, raising a puff of dust.

Randy screwed up a freckled scowl, baring oversized front teeth. “I’ll get you for this, man.”

“Yeah? Something else you learned from your mom?”

Silky’s eyes widened, surprised by the definite edge that had come into Mr. Douglas’s voice.

He tossed his plastic soap container after Randy. “Go scrub! I’ll be there in a sec.” Running his fingers through his shaggy mane of sandy hair, he paused by Silky, who had now stood up and was brushing grass from her knees, trying not to appear as though she’d been eavesdropping. Tossing his towel across his shoulder, he extended a hand. “Hey.”

Dusting off her hands, she took his. “Hello, Mr. Douglas.”

“Call me Ice. Everybody who’s anybody does.” He squeezed her hand and let it go. “You ever catch my show? ‘Ice Man Morning Drive’ on WROK in Anchorage?”

She smiled apologetically, shaking her head. “I’m afraid not. My musical preference falls somewhere between Johnny Mathis and Johnny Cash.”

He made a classic sour-lemon face and clutched at his heart. “
Mathis! Cash!
Hell, lady, that’s the dreaded adult-music chasm! You fall
into that and the next thing you know, you’re wearing a hearing aid and burpin’ grandkids!”

She laughed at his melodramatic exaggeration, countering, “But you’re the one who’s a dad.”

He sobered at the mention of fatherhood, his features closing in a scowl. “Hey—no way. Not
this
lad. Not for long, anyway.”

Silky frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

He looked at her thoughtfully as he lifted his reflective glasses again. This time she could see his eyes plainly. Light-lashed and the gray color of roadside snow, they seemed too sad for his twenty-some-odd years. She doubted that he was any older than she, but, still, there were definite wrinkles etched into the corners of his eyes, deep creases that had not been carved by laughter.

“Say,” he asked quietly, apparently having made a decision. “Do you mind if I unload something on you?”

Silky was surprised and a little unnerved by his inquiry. Sweeping her gaze away from his doleful eyes, she offered tentatively, “I—I don’t mind, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t bother you with this, but the kid—Randy—well, he’s bad-mouthed about everybody on this trip except you, so I thought he might listen to you.”

“Listen? To me?” Silky shifted uncertainly. “What is it that you want him to hear from me?”

Dropping his glasses back into place he looked around. Silky looked around, too. People were busy with the fire detail, dinner detail and general cleaning up. They were all too preoccupied with other things to eavesdrop. He motioned toward a spot under some pines where the bikes were parked. “What say we sit down?”

She nodded silently.

With long, disjointed strides, he beat her to the shaded area and spread his towel for them both. He rubbed his crooked nose then started, “Well, this is the deal. A little over a year and a half ago, I met Belle. She was this beautiful, young-looking lady of thirty-three. You know, the older-wiser type.” He was speaking slowly now, and Silky had the feeling that he was no longer looking at her, but backward into his past, at the face of another woman. But not one he loved, not anymore anyway.

His features were cast in a harsh mask, his low recital no less sharp-edged as he explained, “She jerks my heart around and I marry her.” Lifting his hands in a gesture of helplessness, he exhaled heavily. “Next minute, I’m daddy to this big-eyed twelve-year-old kid.” He stopped, and Silky watched as his pent-up anger throbbed visibly in his temples.

Dropping his head, he began to toy with a sprig of grass as he took up the thread of his story. “Then, Belle wants us to be a
proper
family, you know—same last names and all? So I go the whole route and adopt the little anchor.” With a sharp yank that made Silky jump, he
uprooted a blade of grass. Raising his face back to hers, he snarled under his breath. “The ink wasn’t dry on those damn adoption papers before Belle runs out on us! And
me?
I’m left with the kid.” He lifted a hand to his hair and jerked his fingers through it. Silky noticed that his hand was trembling badly. “
Dammit!
I’m not
old
enough to have a thirteen-year-old kid! I was only fifteen when he was born!” Ice’s voice broke in anguish as he poured out his painful, frightened admission.

“Your wife ran out on Randy!” Silky shook her head sadly. What was the matter with people these days—always running out on each other? Knowing that there was really little that she could do to console Ice, she patted his hand, offering hopefully, “Maybe she’ll come back.”

He snorted, his whispered answer rasping sharply against her face. “Yeah! No way. She’s gone for good and I’m stuck with Randy. Why’d she pick me to dump the kid on? I’m too young to take on a half-grown boy!”

Silky clutched her hands together in her lap. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m taking him on this trip to—well—he likes riding his bike and camping, and I want to make the news as easy on him as I can. And the news is …” He cleared his throat with some difficulty. “I found out that Belle’s got a second cousin living near Whitehorse. So, I figured I’d use this trip to sort of break it to the kid that I can’t keep him, and then drop him off with her.”