Guarding Miranda (34 page)

Its few streets were lined on either side by craft and gift shops, cafes and ice cream parlors, restaurants and convenience stores. 

They drove the main street of the town and soon found that Wasagaming even sported a theater, surprisingly and an inn or motel on almost every street.

There was a gas station, a post office and even a bar.  Next to the main drag was a small park.

Beyond the park, a short sandy beach could be seen before a great expanse of clear blue lake.

They parked the car on a street parallel to the park, nearest the lake and proceeded to investigate the many eclectic-looking shops.

Brian suggested they stop for ice cream and so they did, Miranda choosing frozen yogurt over the more calorie laden treat.  They window shopped until they found an outlet that appealed to them, inside which they found displays of soapstone carvings done by the Inuit people of remote northern Canada and beaded leatherwork done by the local indigenous peoples. 

Miranda was amazed by the pieces of art that the local natives created by biting birchbark, their skilled teeth marking the peach colored bark with impressions that were surprisingly intricate.

“You mean to tell me that they actually made these patterns by biting the bark?” Miranda queried, upon reading the cards that accompanied the works.

“Oh, yes and rather well, too,” replied the anxious clerk. “It’s a dying art.  It’s said that only a handful of women in Manitoba still know how to do it.”

Miranda left the store with three of the intricate craft.

Two of bumblebees for herself and her Aunt Nancee and one of a stunningly complex flower for her cousin Lynn. 

Lynn, a California State University Archeology major pursuing a minor in Anthropology, would no doubt appreciate an authentic Native Canadian souvenir.

Miranda did not mind the exorbitant prices.

Souvenirs were one of the few things she truly liked to indulge in. It wasn’t really as bad as the receipt read, she had paid for her purchases with American currency and the exchange on the dollar was well over thirty percent!

One of the shops they visited was a women’s specialty clothing store. 

Therein did they find a display of sarongs with fringed edges, some tie-dyed with patterns, some solid in color. 

One in dark green caught Miranda’s eye.  It was faded in spots, as though stonewashed and was marked with white flaming suns, of various size and design.

“Should I get it?” She asked Brian, marveling at the silky feel of the material.

“It’s your color.” Imagining her in it, he added a whispered, “Can’t wait to take it off of you, love...”

So she bought it.

In another shop, a log cabin marked
The Wizard’s Den
, they found an awesome display of wood carvings of pipes, utensils, decorative plates, knives and wall hangings. 

Brian picked up one of the pipes and ran his fingers over the intriguing carving. The wizened visage of an old man had been cut into the face of the bowl of the pipe. 

Try as he might, Brian could not put the pipe down.

“I absolutely have to get this for my Aunt Bernie.” He decided, speaking partially to himself and partially to Miranda. “She collects pipes, she’ll love this one.”

“She smokes a pipe?” Miranda was amused.

“Wears army boots, too.” He grinned at her. “It’s nearly ninety dollars but I’d hate to leave Canada without having bought her a souvenir of the place.”

 “It’s rather unique.  If she’s as eccentric as you say, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Purchases in hand, they caught the five o’clock movie that was playing at the theater and considered a place to eat supper. 

They decided on the restaurant that they had parked by, since the screened-in seating area faced the beautiful lake. 

Miranda sated her appetite with a pungent teriyaki chicken with wild rice and tender young asparagus in lemon sauce.  Brian fed his hunger with a rosemary seasoned salmon steak, couscous and tangy marinated baby vegetables. 

Both agreed that it was the best meal they had eaten in a long time, no offense meant to either of them, who had taken turns cooking throughout their stay in Manitoba. 

Intrigued by the promise of a magician’s performance at nine o’clock, they stuck around for the show. 

Miranda ordered a Singapore Sling and then changed her mind, considering the tiny life that might be thriving within her.

If she was pregnant, she had not fully decided what she was going to do.

With the resources she had at her disposal, she could afford options that weren’t available to most single women…

Trying not to let her worry show, she joined Brian in the non-alcoholic equivalent: a fruity Shirley Temple.

At precisely nine o’clock, the talented young magician took his place upon the dais that served as a stage and wowed his eager audience with feats of illusion and magic. 

Brian was made rather jealous of the handsome young man as he made his rounds through the crowd, pulling a coin from behind Miranda’s ear. 

He had to restrain himself from punching the boy in the mouth as the magician daringly took Miranda’s hand and kissed the back of it, before leaving theirs for the next table.

“Punk,” Brian muttered under his breath, into his Shirley Temple.

“Why Brian,” began Miranda, clearly amused, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Well, maybe I am,” he growled, low in his throat.

“Jealous?” She lightly teased. “How could you be jealous?”

“I saw the way your eyes lit up when he took your hand,” said Brian, quietly. “Don’t tell me you weren’t attracted to him.”

“God, Brian,” she laughed. “He’s a pretty boy.  You, on the other hand, are a devastatingly handsome man.  He all but pales in comparison.”

Brian’s’ face lit up. “You think I’m devastatingly handsome, Miranda?  Since when?”

“Since supper that night at my uncle’s, when we were properly introduced.”

“So you rally are rather fond of me, huh?”

She let her hand fall to brush the back of his. “You know that I am.”

“But are you fond enough of me to keep me?” He asked, his heart hanging on the question.

They were interrupted by the waitress, who presented their bill.

“Have a nice evening,” said the lithe blond girl.

“You too.” Brian and Miranda chorused together.

Miranda tore the bill out of his hand before he could complain and began to rise from her seat. “Let’s take a walk on the beach, shall we?”

“Are you enjoying emasculating me?”

“Immensely,” she giggled.

Upon leaving the restaurant, they were subject to a pleasantly warm breeze coming off of the lake.  The sun was setting in orange and fuschia brilliance behind clouds that were alternately dark mauve and flaming red. 

They walked side by side, speaking of trivial things, pleasant things, catching a glimpse into each others’ thoughts and souls.

“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful sunset.” Brian turned to her as they reached the sandy promenade, wonderment in his eyes. “You looks so lovely in this light, the orange lighting your eyes, your hair, your skin...”

Holding on to him for support, Miranda removed her sandals and grinned up at him. 

“Aww, you’re just saying that.  I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only you, Miranda,
only you
.”

Pulling her close, he brushed her lips with his, drawing the tender heat of her kiss into his mouth. 

He was conscious of every curve of her body as he held her next to him, felt the rush of passion to his loins and knew that it was time to part. 

Part or risk taking her there and now on the beach...

“So tell me, love, when are you planning to return to San Francisco?”

“End of the summer, late August sometime,” she supposed. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” He breathed a sigh of relief, secure in the knowledge that he had her all to himself for at least the better part of two months.

 In that time, he knew that she would come to love him back. 

She had to. 

He would surely die if she didn’t...

Miranda watched him closely, his rugged male features made softer by the sun, his dark grey eyes made warm by the light of its passage toward the west.

Watched him and knew that it was time she risked everything. 

It was time to tell him what was in her heart and if he was man enough to bear that burden, perhaps the secret of what might be in her womb...

“Brian,” she began, made courageous by the romance of the sunset. “What would you say if I told you that I was...”

Her voice trailed off. 

She wasn’t brave enough. 

Not yet... 

And she didn’t know for certain, if she was pregnant or not. 

There was no point in upsetting him if it turned out to be a false alarm.

“What is it, Miranda?” He asked, gazing at her intently. 

There was such a softness to her face, such a tenderness to her eyes, marked by the slightest bit of fear. 

Fear of what? 

Of him?

He tried to assure her, “You have nothing to fear, love.  You can tell me.”

She wished she had a shot of vodka to help her confession, help steady her nerves. 

She looked up into his smoldering grey eyes and knew that it was time.

Time to tell him the main thing that caused conflict within her, if she could not yet find the courage to tell him the other…

She stepped into his embrace and found courage in his strength. 

Found the strength that she herself needed to carry on.

“Brian, I’m in love with you.”

There. 

She had said it.

If he rejects me, all is lost
, she thought fiercely, though her hold on him was steadfast.
If my hopes are crushed and thrown to this breeze so be it but at least I will have quit being a coward and
...

He stiffened in her arms and then pulled her away, trying to get a glance at her eyes to see the love in their depths that was so evident in her voice.

“Look at me, Miranda,” he pleaded. 

She would not look.

She didn’t dare. 

He lifted her chin with his thumb, forcing her to meet his gaze. 

He saw the first of many tears in her eyes and knew that it was his turn to confess his love now, else this perfect moment be lost forever.

“Miranda, I have loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, through the lens of my camera.”

Well, it didn’t come out exactly pretty and perfect but it’s finally said,
he thought.
And that’s what matters…

“You, you love me?” There was such weakness in her voice, such despair. Uncertainty. Were her ears deceiving her?  Surely not...

“Of course I love you!” He exclaimed. “Haven’t I made that blatantly obvious by now?”

“All I’ve known is that I can arouse you...”

“Quickest way to a man’s heart!”

“Don’t tease me now, Brian,” she warned him, “Or so help me God, I’ll-”

He didn’t let her finish, rather, he brought her so quickly to his chest and under his mouth that the wind was very nearly knocked out of her. 

All she knew then was his kiss, his love, as endearments fell from his lips.

“Oh Miranda, my love.”

When finally they parted, it was with passion in their eyes.

“Let’s go home, Brian.”