The Reluctant Bride (2 page)

“I'm interested in anything that would cheer me up. I can foot the bill,” Anita insisted.

“I'm not concerned. You know that.”

“I didn't get a chance to tell you,” Anita added. “But Cory said if you don't mind, four would be better than two for the raft trip.”

“When did you talk to him?” Karinne asked, confused.

“A few days ago. I was working at the time, so I said no. He just called me again today, though. They have extra provisions because of the cancellation, and he doesn't want to waste the perishables.”

“Oh.” Karinne blinked.

“If you'd rather I didn't come,” Anita backtracked, “I'll stay topside with Cory and update my résumé. Review the want ads. Do some wedding preparations for you.”

Karinne hated seeing Anita's disappointment. So far this vacation had been full of surprises, and it hadn't even
started yet. She thought of the pink sweatshirt still in her drawer, and the goose bumps ran down her neck again. If a ghost intended to show up, maybe having reinforcements around wasn't such a bad idea. And if Cory had invited his wife rafting, it wasn't Karinne's place to tell them no.

“Forget the want ads. There's plenty of time for that later.” Karinne gestured with her chin. “Get packing. We'll start the drive north early tomorrow morning.”

Topside,
Grand Canyon Village, Arizona

The rain continued its steady downfall. Arizona forecasters didn't call it the monsoon season for nothing. Moisture-laden air from the Pacific's California coast hit the Rocky Mountains and rose high to cross the peaks. The moisture moved toward the hotter air above the desert, where its coolness clashed with the heat, mushrooming in purple thunderheads that drenched the area in violent downpours with stick, chain and ball lightning.

Inside the personal quarters provided for park concessionaires topside, Max Hunter stared out the window, fascinated as always by the force of water. Harnessed correctly, it could water the desert and quench the thirst of millions of plants, animals and humans. Left to its elemental nature, water would erode the canyon below, just as it had in prehistoric times.

The Colorado—Spanish for red—was one of the nation's three ancient, prehistoric rivers, along with Utah's Green River and the Mississippi. The Colorado continued carving the massive canyons with its abrasive red silt, fed by the rain and snowfall of the Rocky Mountains.

“Tourists want sunshine. If this keeps up, they'll have
to open the spill gates upriver, then who knows what the white-water conditions will be this weekend. We'll have to do more of the trip on foot,” Cory grumbled.

“If it wasn't for the weather, we couldn't have invited Karinne and Anita up,” Max reminded him. “Although I thought it would just be me and Karinne,” he said with a trace of annoyance. A long-distance courtship, preface to what would be a long-distance marriage, made Max cherish whatever time he could spend with his fiancée, especially time alone. Unfortunately, Cory suffered from the same problem. But at least Cory had made faster progress. He'd become engaged, gotten married and was saving for a house with his wife, even though Max and Karinne had been engaged first. Karinne had been dragging her feet, and Max was tired of it. He'd hoped that this long trek down the river would settle things once and for all. Yes, their wedding was planned for November, but it wouldn't be the first time Karinne had put it off. If it wasn't her father's health, it was her job demands. The timing never seemed to be right for her.

Cory sensed Max's irritation.

“I figured we might as well use up the perishable food, but I told you, I can hang with Anita topside if you want,” he said.

“No, that would be rude, and besides, you're right. We're already provisioned for a larger party.”

Max added a few more morose comments about foolish tourists who thought deserts were all cacti and sunshine. But his comments reflected his frustration at having a long-distance fiancée. While Cory tuned his guitar, Max remained at the window, which took in the canyon rim wooded area, log-style smaller cabins and lodge.

Although both brothers were deeply tanned and healthy from outdoor work, there the resemblance ended. Blond
and blue-eyed like his father, a cruise-ship captain, Cory looked more like a California surfer. He wore his hair fairly long, and sported the attitude of what he was at heart—a musician who was happy anywhere, provided he had his woman and his guitar at his side.

“At least you two will share the same tent for a few days,” Cory said to Max. He shook his head. “Although how you two expect to have a marriage, let alone kids, while you're living in opposite ends of the state is beyond me. Karinne doesn't want to quit her job, and you can't. There's no way just one person can run the raft expeditions. Plus there's Jeff's
bad heart
to consider.”

“We'll manage. You and Anita have.”

“Anita and I are in no hurry for children. You and Karinne are.”

“I used to think Karinne wanted children right away,” he said morosely. “She said she wanted her dad to see his grandchildren before he died. But talk isn't action. At this rate I'll be old and gray before we ever get to the altar. And Jeff will be long gone.”

“Would you still marry her if she changed her mind? Didn't want a family?”

“I don't know.”

Cory wisely said nothing, and let Max continue to stare out the window.

Even as a child, Max found inner peace in the unique ruggedness of northern Arizona, although there'd been a time when he'd hated the rawness of the land. That time had come after Margot Cavanaugh's disappearance into the desert.

Margot had showed up at Max's house on that last day, looking for Karinne. Margot's manner had been decidedly off-key, and because of that Max had—uncharacter
istically—lied. He remembered the incident clearly, even though he'd been only ten years old.

“No, I don't know where Karinne is, Mrs. C,” he'd fibbed, although Karinne and Cory were in his bedroom playing video games. It was Cory's favorite pastime, although six-year-old Karinne wasn't as skilled.

“Are you sure?” Margot pressed. “She told me she was coming here.”

The hair on the back of the boy's neck rose as Margot grabbed his arm.

“She left.” Max pulled his arm away from Margot, who quickly stepped back and hurried off the porch. Max carefully dead-bolted the door before rubbing at his arm. Something about Margot's strange mood and aggressive behavior unnerved him and came back to haunt him when Margot's suicide note was discovered.

Later, Max didn't regret his decision. At least Margot's death was a single tragedy, not a double one involving Karinne's death, too. Max had never spoken of it to anyone except Cory. He thanked the gods of chance that he'd answered the door that fateful day, and Karinne had survived her mother's disappearance.

“I don't know how you expect to have kids when neither of you wants to quit your job,” Cory said, thumbing his guitar strings. “You won't be able to raise them together. In fact, you won't be able to raise them at all.”

Max refused to rise to the bait. “We're not even married yet, Cory.”

“And you won't stay married long if you don't get serious about your situation. You can't bring infants and baby bottles into white-water rafts, and Karinne can't bring children to her sporting events. You've had the longest engagement on record, and you're still hiding your heads in the sand. One of you has to quit, Max.”

“She'll probably stay home with them once they're born.”

“Have you guys even talked about this? Maybe she doesn't want to choose children over her career. Your marriage will be off to a rocky start if you don't get this settled.”

That remark drew Max away from the window. “Thanks a lot. We haven't even had the wedding, and you've already got us divorced.”

“Not me,” said Cory. “You and Karinne. She's still looking after her father, and you're still waiting for Karinne's mother to turn up and ruin everything.”

“They never found her body,” Max slowly said. “And Margot wanted a divorce. She and Jeff were always fighting. That suicide note could've been a fake. She could've taken the opportunity to run. I remember her well, Cory. She wasn't interested in being a wife and mother. And there were whispers about her having a gambling problem.”

Cory sighed. “So let's say Margot
does
come back. So what? You have nothing to fear.”

“Come on, we were both home with Karinne the day Margot disappeared. I lied and said I didn't know where she was. If Margot ever returns, what am I going to tell Karinne?”

“Tell her the same thing you told Jeff and the police when they came looking for Margot. That Mom was next door at the neighbors, Dad was at work, you saw Margot, and you did what you thought was right at the time. I don't know why you didn't tell her this years ago.”

“Jeff asked me not to because he thought it would be too traumatic. But I may have to after all.”

“Why?” Cory asked.

Max paused, then admitted, “I've been getting anonymous phone calls. It's happened three times. Once the caller
actually said she was Margot Cavanaugh and asked me for money to come and see Karinne.”

“Hell!”

“I went to the police, but nothing. I haven't received any more calls since the last one, so the police weren't able to trace her.”

“No wonder you're talking in your sleep.”

Max winced. “Not again.”

“Yes. You talk about that day Margot came to the door, Max. One of these days, Karinne's gonna hear you.”

Icy chills shivered down Max's back. “What do I say?”

“The same thing you always used to say.
Don't tell Karinne.
”

Interstate 17,
North of Flagstaff, Arizona

“At least it's dry for now,” Karinne said behind the steering wheel. The freeway had dried off enough for the high-speed driving no longer possible in more populated areas.

Anita turned off the weather station on the car's radio. The day before, they'd left Phoenix before sunrise, and driven one hundred and forty-five miles to Flagstaff. Last night they'd checked into a hotel and were up early again this morning to finish the distance between Flagstaff and Grand Canyon Village. They'd meet the Hunter brothers in less than an hour. Although the skies were cloudy and gray, the deluge had ended last night, and the women were making good time.

“The sun should come out this afternoon,” Anita said. She reached for her take-out cup of coffee.

“Fingers crossed,” Karinne said. “Or we'll have a wet hike all the way down to the river.”

“It's only a day hike,” Anita said cheerfully. “A mile straight down.”

“Fifteen trail miles, and it's monsoon season, remember? We're gonna get wet.”

“I know,” Anita said. “But it can't rain the whole time. I
want to take pictures. I brought along a waterproof digital camera.”

Karinne smiled. “Maybe you can let me pay for copies, then.”

“You didn't bring a camera?”

“Lord, no. I need a break. I'm tired of looking at view screens and through lenses.”

“It's driving you crazy?” Anita asked sympathetically.

Karinne thought of her last batch of photos showing the woman who reminded her of her mother.

“You have no idea,” she said wryly. “Besides, this way I can spend more time with Max.” Karinne had always loved him. Her memories of Max went so far back she couldn't tell when childhood worship and friendship had changed into adult love and passion.

“It'll be good to see Max again,” Anita said. “He leaves the canyon area about as often as Cory does.”

“Which isn't often.”

“My family wishes I'd married someone local, but I can't imagine being with anyone but Cory,” Anita said.

“Well, the upside of losing your job is that now you'll have plenty of time to spend with him.”

Anita nodded. “I'm tired of us being apart. Maybe I can find new employment up north. Married people shouldn't be separated for such long periods.”

Karinne said nothing. She'd often thought the same thing, as had Max. But Max couldn't quit his job, and she didn't want to quit hers. Besides, Jeff Cavanaugh had heart problems and had no other family around, so she felt obliged to stay close to him. Both Karinne and his doctor knew Jeff didn't take his medication regularly. Whether it was due to forgetfulness or a deliberate attempt to keep his daughter's attention, the result was the same.

“Hey, where's your ring?” Anita asked curiously.

“My diamond? At home. I felt it would be safer.” At the last minute, Karinne had removed it—and packed the pink sweatshirt.

“It seems strange to see you without it. In fact, with your jobs, I don't know how you two ever got engaged. Good thing you were childhood sweethearts.”

Karinne frowned at the old-fashioned term. “Not really.” Her love for Max was based on deep trust since childhood, not some clichéd idea like that.

“How would you describe it, then?” Anita teased.

“Call it destiny, and leave it at that,” Karinne said lightly. “Max and I grew into each other. He's the man for me.” Karinne darted a quick glance at her friend. “But we all can't be as lucky as you and Cory, the perfect couple. Even miles apart, you're happy.”

“We're not perfect,” Anita said. “And I
am
happy. But I'd be happier if I could be with him
all
the time.”

“So would I. With Max, I mean.” She and Max were at a stalemate about the subject of one of them relocating. Karinne appreciated that Max loved his job, but so did she. Not only that, Jeff was too ill to be moved, or, at least, claimed he was.

She remembered their argument the last time she'd postponed the wedding.

“You're using your father as an excuse, Karinne. With his heart, he should be in an assisted-care facility. Your living at home is no substitute for professional care.”

“He'd be miserable at some nursing home!”

“He'd have a fuller, healthier life than he does right now. We can move him up near us if you want. And no—” he held up a hand when she would have protested “—he isn't too ill to be moved. He just says that because he doesn't want to leave his home. But it's time, and his doctor agrees,” Max insisted.

“How would you like giving up your home?” Karinne countered.

“If I had to, I hope I would do it gracefully. But that's not the issue. You know how hard Cory and I have worked to make our concession a success. Do you want me to give it up when I've finally become profitable? And ruin Cory's finances in the process?”

“No, but—”

“I'm not trying to be heartless, Karinne. But Cory and I still have to make a living. Support our families, if we have any. You were the one who wanted Jeff to see his grandchildren,” he reminded her.

Karinne flushed. “I know.”

That last argument had convinced her to take the week off and spend more time with Max. Their weekends were usually filled with loving reunions in bed, and lately talking seemed to make things worse. Now Anita and Cory were coming along—but it was Cory's business, too.

“Well, all four of us will be together this weekend,” Anita continued. “I'm glad you don't mind me tagging along. If you need privacy, just let us know. Maybe we can split up into pairs. I can catch a mule down with Cory,” Anita suggested. “I've never ridden a mule.”

“Mules are usually booked six months in advance. Unless you grow wings, we're all hiking.” Karinne's well-worn hiking boots were in the car trunk.

“Cupid's wings are the only wings we'll be seeing,” Anita teased. “What with your wedding and all.” She paused. “I wonder why your father hasn't remarried after all this time.”

“Dad can't get remarried! He's…” Widowed?
Still married?

“What?” Anita asked.

“Too old,” she quickly substituted.

“I didn't think you'd mind if he did.”

“If the circumstances were right, I wouldn't,” Karinne replied. “Let's please get through one wedding at a time, okay?”

“You shouldn't make it sound like a chore. This is your future we're talking about.”

Karinne exhaled. “You're right. I'm nervous, that's all.”

“Let
me
be the nervous one. I just got fired and I have to find a new job. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Karinne said sincerely, trying hard to hide her envy.

I can't believe it. I'm jealous of Anita—even though she lost her job. She gets to be with her husband.

“You really mean it?” Anita asked. “You might be losing a roommate.”

Karinne nodded. “Of course.”

“Wouldn't it be great if you could work in the Grand Canyon area yourself?”

“There aren't any jobs for sports photographers and I don't want to freelance doing nature pictures. Too much competition and not enough money. There's no sense wishing for the impossible.”

Even if she wanted things to be different.

Grand Canyon Village parking area

L
EANING AGAINST
his car, Max eagerly watched the incoming traffic for Karinne. He and Cory had taken a single vehicle to meet the women. Lodging vacancies were scarce and traffic was heavy, despite the overcast sky and “sometimes-yes, sometimes-no” sun. The Grand Canyon was open all year, and according to the visitor count, one of the most popular vacation destinations in the world. Thousands
swarmed to see one of nature's true great wonders. The temperatures inside the canyon desert were warm year-round, even when desert tundra winter cold enveloped the land at rim level. But summertime in Arizona was peak season for tourists and locals alike to experience the rainbow of colors the Colorado River had etched through rocks a mile high. The South Rim parking lots overflowed with trolling cars and frustrated drivers. The Hunter brothers fortunately had employee parking passes.

“I want to visit with Karinne, too,” Cory reminded his brother. “Try not to hog her too much.”

“Can't promise anything,” Max said with a grin. “Besides, I expect you and Anita to be holed up in your tents getting reacquainted. Like Karinne and I will.”

“That should be them,” Cory said.

“Where?” Max asked, excited about seeing his lover and fiancée for the first time in months.

Cory jerked his chin toward the arrivals area. Two women climbed out of a parked vehicle, but Max only had eyes for Karinne. He'd recognize her anywhere, and his pulse quickened at the sight. She traveled light—no camera slung over her shoulder—and was clad in a worn pair of denims and her gray sweatshirt. The blond hair he remembered from childhood had long ago deepened to a darker blond, although her green eyes remained the same. Bare toes peeped out from casual summer sandals, and the sweatshirt didn't hide the curves beneath. But his eyes lingered on her face.

He didn't call out her name. He enjoyed anticipating her beautiful smile of recognition. When she finally caught his gaze, that smile always rewarded him.

“Max!” Karinne shouted. The four gathered together. Max hugged Karinne, loving the feel of her against his body. Then Karinne hugged Cory.

“Isn't this
great?
” Karinne said. “The four of us together again.”

Cory kissed Anita on the mouth, then both cheeks. Glossy black hair around a bronze face with dark eyes and high cheekbones reminded Max of Spanish nobility in the early days of Mexico. Anita was exquisitely beautiful. Max appreciated beauty and was the first to acknowledge it—but his sister-in-law had never tickled his hormones like Karinne.

“Karinne, why don't you ride with me in the Jeep? Cory, you and Anita can follow, okay?”

Max hugged Karinne's shoulders with one arm as the other pair split off. They sauntered toward his vehicle, and got in.

“How was your drive up?” Max asked, his hand resting on her thigh, her fingers entwined with his.

“Too long and too wet. I'm glad I'm here.” She squeezed his fingers.

“So am I.” Max stopped at the intersection light. He took the opportunity to kiss her before the light turned green.

“I've missed you,” he said, watching the traffic as he gradually accelerated. “How's your father?”

“Fine.”

“And you?”

“Okay.”

“Sounds like something's
not
okay.” He always knew when Karinne was troubled. He had when they were children, and still did. “What's up?”

“I thought it was strange that Cory invited Anita rafting,” Karinne replied. “I thought this trip was supposed to be just for us.”

Max shrugged. “He wanted to save on the food stuff. We can only freeze so much of it. But the main reason is that he misses her.”

“Well, she has plenty of time to visit now,” Karinne said. “Anita just lost her job.”

“Yeah, Cory told me.” Max stopped at a four-way stop sign. “I'm sorry to hear it.”

“Anita wants to get a job up here. Wish I could.” Karinne sighed.

“I just thought you'd be tired of sports by now.”

“Hey, I was the girl's softball champ, remember? I love sports.” Karinne adjusted her sunglasses.

“Don't you get tired of traveling?”

“Sometimes.”

“That won't change after we're married, either… Not with me living here and you working in Phoenix. You could always switch to landscapes—plenty of scenery.”

“Dad's older and he isn't well. He can't really move. And when it comes to postcard and calendar shots, they don't pay enough. Still, I'd love to be able to earn a living with material like this.” Karinne gestured at her open window. The wooded area of northern Arizona and the Coconino Forest shone a brilliant green from the night's rain. It was the “earn a living” part that posed a problem.

“Can't blame you there.” Max pointed to the left.

A doe and her fawn browsed the tender young leaves on a shrub, unconcerned with habitual park traffic. Karinne followed the pair with her eyes until the Jeep's path around a winding curve put the deer out of sight.

“It sure beats a sweaty athlete with a bat or ball in his hands,” Max said.

“Well, maybe if
you're
the model,” Karinne hedged. Cute shots of fawns in the forest were a dime a dozen. Her action shots with professional athletes were unique. “One of these days you'll pose for me, Max.”

“In a suit at our wedding,” he told her.

“What about during our honeymoon?”

“Just scenery stuff. No jock shots,” he insisted. Her wicked smile at his unintentional pun prompted Max to add, “You know what I mean.”

“I have other plans for our honeymoon,” she promised.

“Have you talked to your dad about those assisted living homes?”

Karinne bit her lip. “I—uh—haven't got to that yet.”

“Checking out the homes or telling Jeff it's what his doctor recommends?”

“Neither,” she said with a sigh.

“I'm surprised you even agreed to come up for the week, you're so busy protecting your father.”

“Please, Max, let's not argue. I just got here.”

“We have some things to discuss this week, Karinne. Either we settle them, or…”

“Or what?” Karinne asked. “You're giving me an ultimatum?”

“At least I'm willing to give something new a try for the sake of our relationship. Which is more than you'll do. You're going to argue, aren't you?”