Pathways (9780307822208) (6 page)

“Better a fine than a manslaughter charge,” the taller of the two said to his companion.

“You’re the idiot who cracked a shot at them. And Dall’s fines are up to five hundred.”

“It’s my plane the feds would come after. I’d lose my license. Ah, they were just a couple of kids. Hikers. We scared them. By the time they get to a radio, we’re outta here.”

The other man kept panting, obviously thinking as he looked down the hillside. “By their tracks, it looks like they ran down this bank. We could check it out.”

“And what are you going to do if you catch them?”

He didn’t answer, obviously hadn’t an answer. “Let’s go,” he finally said. They turned and made their way back through the forest. The cracking of branches and cones beneath their feet faded into the distance.

“I think they’re gone,” Eli whispered into her ear, his arms still around her. Bryn slumped in relief, realizing she had tensed up from skull to heel. Then she turned and gave him a long hug.

“That was scary,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, Bryn. I never should’ve taken you up there.”

“Hey, it was me who pushed it. No apology needed.” His face was a mere two inches from hers, and after the rush of adrenaline, the relief of escape, she felt a magnetic attraction to Eli. He was so handsome, and he had her in his arms. She tipped up her chin, inviting him to kiss her.

Desire rushed through his eyes, and he leaned forward, his breath hot on her face, as if he intended to answer that call. But with a rueful smile, he pulled away and rose, offering her a hand. “Come on. We better get back to the cabin to radio in a report on those guys.”

Bryn tried to swallow, her mouth dry. She made herself smile, covering her disappointment.
What is it about this guy? He is so different! Why didn’t he kiss me?
“Yeah. Better pick up Ben’s nets too on the way,” she said.

They slowly descended back to the river and divvied up the four fish for dinner. “I don’t think they’ll come this way again,” he said, staring at her as if he wanted to say more. “Think they were from over the pass. Probably landed on a lake over there and hiked across, is my guess.”

“Okay,” she said, pushing a rock with her toe in an effort to find something to do with herself. “I had fun today, Eli. The fishing … Even our surveillance trip, up until they fired at us.”

He grinned at her. “Me too. See you tomorrow?”

“I hope so. Let me know what the people in town say about the poachers.”

“I will.” He reached up then and tenderly ran two fingers down her jawbone, his eyes staring into hers. Abruptly he dropped his hand, turned, and walked away, heading to his side of the lake.

Nothing like a thousand yards of Alaskan water between us to cool things down
, she thought, turning to head home. He obviously wanted to touch her, kiss her. What held him back? Where was the key to unlock the mystery of Eli Pierce?

When Eli took off in his plane a few days later, Bryn fought the loneliness as well as the admission that she was actually missing him. And when he was back at Summit, taking her up to the ridge to photograph the Dall’s sheep, hiking, flying a couple times, Bryn knew that the spark she had felt the first time she saw him coming down from his cabin was growing into a billowing flame. The way he looked at her so tenderly, the way she felt when he was near, the way he tentatively reached for her hand—usually with the excuse to help her past a difficult area on a trail, but then he’d keep his grasp firm long past any real threat of slipping—it all left an imprint on her memory as clearly as a photo placed in a treasured album.

The thought of him made a warmth grow in her belly and spread up to her face. If he would only kiss her! Then she’d know that he felt more for her than simply friendship, respect, platonic love. Every guy she had dated had been eager to kiss her, trying to maneuver her into position at the first chance. But Eli … he’d had plenty of opportunities and each time had pulled away. What was his deal?

She dug her paddle into the water beside the canoe, on this day gliding to the north end to visit Benjamin White. Bryn, eager for Peter to give him another chance, had talked her father into going with her. Ben had brought home two black bear cubs the last time he was out on a job, and today Peter and Bryn would get to see them.

Ben came out onto his deck as the canoe crunched over the rounded pebbles of his beach. Often the waves blew from the south end of Summit Lake, ending on Ben’s shore and working the rocks into gently rounded gravel, the kind people would put in the bottom of a fish tank in colors of a winter sky: gray and silver and black and white. Even now the waves lapped over the beach in a soothing wash and swoosh that reminded Bryn of the ocean on a mild day.

“Greetings, neighbors,” Ben called, walking down to them. “Come to meet my new babies?”

“If we can,” Bryn said. She stepped out of the canoe and accepted his warm, steadying hand.

“Sure, sure, come ahead.”

Bryn turned to watch her father and Ben exchange awkward greetings. After shaking, Peter shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced over at Bryn with an I’m-doing-this-for-you look. Ben turned away first, to lead them up the stairs and inside the snug little house. It was a welcome treat to enter his home, which had gas for the stove and a generator for lighting and emergency heat. He kept it very neat and orderly. She knew that every three months Eli flew in a new propane tank for him from Talkeetna, removing the old one and taking it to town to refill. In the winter, he had an extra on hand in case Eli couldn’t get into the high mountain valley. And today, like a counterattack against the gray afternoon, three lamps burned brightly.

The baby bears were in a pen in one corner. The coal-colored creatures were small and their coats thin. “Logging operation must’ve driven the mother away,” Ben explained, picking one up. The cub wrapped his thick arms around Ben’s, and nuzzled toward his chest as if wanting to nurse. “I’m feeding them round the clock.”

“With bottles?” Peter asked, reaching to pet the thick fur.

“Yep.”

“How’re the two that you told us about before?”

“Macbeth is doing well. She’s established her own territory. Hamlet is still a troublemaker, rummaging for food in the garbage. Birdfeeders are his favorite.”

“What will happen to him?” Bryn asked.

“We’re going to capture him next week and move him deeper into the wilderness. Hopefully so far that he won’t find his way out. Want to hold her?”

“Yes.” She accepted the tiny bear and stroked her black fur. “Ouch! Those claws are sharp!”

“Here,” Ben said. “Let me get you her bottle. That’ll keep her busy.”

“What’s her name?” Peter asked.

“Don’t know yet. Livin’ with them for a while before I christen them. Got to get to know their personalities. What can I get you two nonbear types? Coffee? Tea?”

They each accepted a cup of tea, and Ben went to the stove to pour steaming water—the pot was always on at his house—into mismatched mugs and added Lipton bags. “Tell me,” he said from the kitchen. “What brings you Californians to Summit this year?”

“I think the question should be, ‘What takes us away from Summit the other years,’ ” Peter said with a laugh. “But getting my wife up here has been a problem.” His face sobered. Bryn could see that Ben’s easy way was working its magic on her dad. “It seems I can’t talk her up here, no matter how much I try,” Peter continued.

“This country’s not for everyone. And should only be for those who love her.” He glanced at Bryn and then moved to scoop up the second bear cub. “This little girl isn’t faring as well as her sister.” The baby barely moved in his arms and only reluctantly accepted the bottle of formula. “Sometimes,” he said, settling into a torn leather chair with the cub, “you can give a bear everything it could possibly need, but something still isn’t right. Guess there’s no real substitute for a mother, but a body can try.” He looked up then, again at Bryn.
“Heard some hammers swinging down your way,” he said, changing the subject.

“Yes,” Peter said proudly. “Bryn and I are working on a small front porch. Someplace to escape the rain without having to be inside.”

“I think we should cover it in mosquito netting,” Bryn said, waving around her head at yet another bloodsucking insect. They were the worst thing about Alaska.

“That would be nice,” Ben agreed. “I might consider that myself someday. Business good, Peter?”

“As always.” Peter sighed and Bryn glanced at him. He was one of Orange County’s top businessmen, working in banking, primarily acquiring smaller, local banks for the larger, national ones. “But sometimes I get so tired I think about chucking it all and coming here full time.”

“What keeps you back?”

“A kid in college and a wife used to Newport.”

“Dad, I thought you loved your work.”

“Sometimes. More and more, no.”

Bryn’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I could get a job, Dad. You know I’ve offered—”

“No, no. Nell would never hear of it. I won’t hear of it. It’s enough of a job to keep up that grade-point. After you’re done with premed, I’ll let you foot the bill. That’s what I’m waiting for. Then I’ll look at my life again, reconsider my options. I can make it till then, honey. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

“Yeah. But I just never … Dad, I never knew you were miserable,” she said softly.

He laughed shallowly. “Did I say I was miserable? Don’t worry
about me.” He took a sip of tea and cast an embarrassed look toward Ben. “Please, honey, forget I said anything.”

“There’s something about Summit Lake that just makes a body think, isn’t there?” Ben cut in, breaking the tension.

“I’ll say.” The cub had gulped down her bottle, and Bryn rose to put her down in the playpen.

“And what have you been thinking about, Bryn Bear?”

She glanced at her father, rolling her eyes at his use of her nickname in front of Ben. He knew she hated that. She supposed by his look of contrition, it had just slipped. “I don’t know. Maybe taking another look at my life. It’s good to just breathe the clean air up here,” she said. “Have the chance to think at all.”

A plane roared overhead, and Bryn jumped up to stare out the window and catch the Beaver’s wings tipping in greeting. “Eli!” she said with glee. She glanced back and saw the men share a knowing look. But she didn’t care. All she wanted was to be in that canoe, paddling down to Eli, finding out about his trip. She bit her lip, reminding herself that she had only another two weeks in Alaska. They would soon head home, to Newport, back to school. What would happen to their relationship then? How would she endure missing him then, when life resumed its frantic pace?

Bryn swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat. All at once, she understood her father’s desire to run away to Alaska, to peace, to quiet.

She was becoming drawn to this place too—and more and more to Eli. She was falling in serious “like” with the man, she admitted. Eli’s plane bounced atop the waves and then glided to a stop, turning halfway down, toward the Pierces’ cabin. Bryn frowned. She was falling for Eli Pierce. Just what was she supposed to do with that?

Eli turned the plane toward his cabin, wanting to go directly to Bryn’s. But it was time to call a halt to things, slow it down, make sure they both knew that what was happening between them was impossible. She would head home in two weeks and rip his heart out of his chest when she went. He had to put a stop to their relationship, keep it mellow, or he wouldn’t survive. Even if she was to stay, Eli knew she wasn’t right for him. She wasn’t a Christian—he shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand. And besides, she wanted to be a big-city doctor. He was a rough-and-tumble bush pilot. It could never work out.

But being back here, on the lake, with her just down the way was already pure torture. Everything in him wanted to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and run his fingers through that black-gold hair and kiss the lips that had been inviting him for days.

I shouldn’t have come back. I should have stayed away. Lord, I can’t do this. Why? Why give me a desire for a woman who doesn’t know you?
He thought he could feel God’s distinct moving in his heart, in his desire for Bryn, his hopes for her faith, his efforts to model his own. But his baser needs were threatening. How could he keep a lid on the situation when everything about Bryn Bailey made him feel madly out of control?