The Reluctant Bride (5 page)

“They don't have a choice. Like me.”

“You're wrong. You do have a choice, Karinne. You just refuse to see it.”

Karinne shifted uneasily in her seat and decided
not to comment on Cory's observation. She steered the conversation back to the earlier topic.

“You don't believe my mother's alive, do you?” she asked.

“No way.”

“Dad didn't, either. But I have a feeling—”

“Wishful thinking.”

“We've always been straight with each other, Cory. If you were me, what would you do?”

“I wouldn't take any chances with a deranged stalker,” he said.

“Why would anyone stalk me? I'm no celebrity.”

“Still, you shouldn't set yourself up as target for some creepy con artist.”

“I don't intend to…but I thought I'd wear the top,” Karinne blurted out.

Cory ran his hand through his hair. “But we just agreed that your mother's dead.”

“Yes…” Karinne took in a deep breath. “If by some miracle she isn't…wearing it would be a signal, wouldn't it? Like a green light saying I'm approachable.”

“Skip the green lights for anyone but Max,” Cory said. “Forget about this woman—and go back to flower arrangements for the wedding. Guest lists. Whatever.”

“I still have to tell Max.”

Cory swore. Karinne stared at him in frank amazement. “Sorry.” Cory piled his tray with the empty dishes and glasses. “It's just that the same thing's been happening to Max.”

“What?”

“He's been getting crank calls from someone who claims to be your mother.”

“Why didn't he
tell
me?” At Cory's raised eyebrows,
she winced. “I know—I'm guilty of the same thing.” She frowned. “Did he go to the police?”

“Yes, but he learned nothing. You two need to talk.”

Karinne nodded. “This trip's off to a great start.”

“Tell him,”
Cory ordered, throwing down his napkin and rising. “Now's as good a time as any.” He gestured toward Max, who was returning to their table. “See you later.”

Karinne sipped her coffee as Max rejoined her. “I showed Anita where the women's dorms are, where you and she will be staying tonight.”

“Dorms…” Karinne groaned with dismay. “Too bad they don't have a real hotel down here. Or someplace we could share a sleeping bag.”

“That's the story of our life, isn't it? Never together.”

Karinne shivered. “Don't say never.”

Max pointed at her coffee. “Are you ready to go?”

“Not yet.” She set down her mug. “I wanted to talk to you about a photo I took a few months ago. There was this woman…” She told Max everything that had happened back at the stadium and her visit to the police station.

“I even told Dad about it, but he didn't buy it.”

A long pause seemed to fill the air. The other diners faded into the background. Max's expression seemed so serious Karinne shivered.

“I may have heard from that woman, too,” he finally said.

“Cory told me,” Karinne whispered. “And she claimed to be my mother?”

“Yes.”

A million questions jumped into her mind. She asked the easiest one. “When was this?”

“Almost two months ago. After we put our engagement announcement in the paper. A woman called. Said she was Margot and wanted to wish us well.”

Karinne shivered again, despite the hot coffee. “Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because the Flagstaff police and park rangers thought it was a crank call. So did I.”

“That's what the Phoenix police told
me
. But obviously this goes beyond that. You should've said something,” she insisted.

“And you, too.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgment. “You don't think…my mother could be alive, do you?”

“No.”

“I wish the woman had called me instead of you,” Karinne said. “I would've recognized the voice if it really was Mom.”

“I'm glad she didn't. I'd hate to think she had your phone number. Or worse, your address,” Max said. “This person
does
have my address,” Karinne admitted miserably. “She sent me a Grand Canyon sweatshirt—and a note.”

“Someone actually sent you a package? When?”

“Last week. This woman wants to see me.”

Max's eyes darkened with concern. “Go on.”

“I threw the whole package out. But then I fished it out of the trash and brought the top with me. I thought maybe…I should wear it.”

“Why?”

“As…a signal, in case Mom
is
alive. To let her know I'm approachable.”

“Don't encourage this craziness! That's the last thing you want!”

“That's what Cory said.”

“You've talked to Cory about this, and not me?” he asked angrily.

Karinne flushed. “Just a few minutes ago. And don't
lecture me, Max. You told Cory about your incident with this strange woman.
Cory,
not me.”

“Point taken.” He sighed. “In future, we have to be more forthright with each other.”

“Then I'll say it right out. I want to follow this and see where it leads.”

“What's next? A stalker crashing the wedding?”

Karinne shook her head. “I don't think this woman wants to hurt me. She's respected my privacy so far.”

“That's not how I see it.”

“And pink used to be my favorite color….”

“Yours and a million other little girls'.”

“Still, if there's a chance—any chance—my mother's alive, I want to know.”

“Let me play devil's advocate. Say Margot
is
alive. You'd want a sick person like that in your life? Someone who faked her own suicide and put you and your father through hell?
If
she's alive, which I doubt.”

“Max, we can't be sure.”

“Exactly. Something to think about before welcoming a Trojan horse.” He reached across the table for her hand. “Come on, there are others waiting for this table. Let's go.”

Outside, the long shadows from the walls and spires of the canyon crisscrossed Phantom Ranch. Most of the park visitors were eating or in the dorms using the communal showers. Max and Karinne found a bench where they could have some privacy. They sat side by side, Max's arm around her shoulders.

“I was hoping to have a nice, quiet vacation where I could concentrate just on us,” Karinne told him.

“I'll settle for a nice, quiet wedding,” Max said. “How's your father taking all this?”

Karinne sat up and pushed the hair back from her face.
“Better than I am. He seemed to shrug it off, but he didn't totally convince me. We never had proof Mom was actually dead. Deep down, I suspect he keeps hoping Mom will come home. That's why he's never sold the house and moved into a retirement community. I guess I felt that way, too. That's why I didn't leave Phoenix after college.”

The cold steel in Max's eyes disturbed her. “Even though we were seriously involved by then?”

“I wanted to stay near our home base.”

“And all this time, I thought you stayed in Phoenix for your career.”

“I— It—it was both…” Karinne stammered.

“So you're telling me that you're pinning the future of our marriage on your father's unrealistic hopes for Margot's return—and yours. That your loyalties lie with your mother first, then your father, then me?”

“You're twisting my words!”

“I don't think I am. This isn't fair to either of us, Karinne. It's one thing for you to stay in Phoenix because of your father's age and health, not that I ever thought he needed a babysitter. But this—this is…”

For the first time ever, Karinne saw Max at a loss for words.

“Max, you don't understand!”

“I understand that I love you. Do you love me?”

“Of course I do!”

His eyes narrowed. “Here's my next question. If they'd found your mother's body years ago, if you weren't waiting for her to turn up at your old home, would you and I be together? Here at the Grand Canyon?”

“You know my job's based in Phoenix.”

“That's not an answer.” His arm dropped from her shoulders as he swiveled to meet her gaze. “Let me rephrase the
question. Is it your job keeping you in Phoenix, or is it some fantasy about Margot?”

“Fantasy?” she echoed.

“Don't be a coward, Karinne. At least have the guts to answer my question.”

On the outside, Karinne didn't flinch from his harsh voice. On the inside, she told herself to tread carefully.

“My job is what it is,” she said calmly. “As for my mother, if she's alive, she'd want to be at the wedding.
I'd
want her to be at the wedding.”

Max said nothing.

“I hope all this can be settled by then.”

“Realistically, it may not be,” he said. “You have to accept that. This is probably a wild-goose chase.”

“I know, but if she's alive, I'd like to see her again.”

“That's extremely generous, considering the circumstances. If this woman
is
your mother, you realize it means she really did abandon you and your father. Are you okay with that?”

Karinne frowned. “No, but there's nothing I can do to change the past. And Mom might need me. Maybe that's why she's turned up after all these years.”

“And that's why you're okay with us having a long-distance marriage. Because Jeff—or your
mother
—might need you.”

“Not exactly, but…”

“What about what
we
need?”

“Max, we've been through this before. You can't work in Phoenix, and I'm always on the road, no matter where my home base is. Once I can talk my father into moving into a retirement home and out of that big house…maybe I could move to Flagstaff. I need to be near an airport.”

“Jeff's never going to move as long as he has you in the
palm of his hand, Karinne. He lost Margot, and he's held on to you ever since.”

“It won't be forever.”

“How long, Karinne? One year? Ten? Twenty?”

Karinne kissed him. “You know I love you.”

“That doesn't fix anything.”

“No. But this is the first time I've been here longer than a weekend—the first time we've been together on the river. Can't we just enjoy it for now?”

Max sighed heavily.

“I wish we weren't sleeping in dorms tonight. I wish we were in our own tent, just you and me,” Karinne murmured.

“If nothing else, we won't be getting strange phone calls and packages,” he replied. “Come on, I'll walk you to the women's dorms. Tomorrow morning we'll catch a chopper up the river to Lee's Ferry, unload our gear and raft the eighty-seven miles back here to Phantom Ranch.”

Mile Zero,
Lee's Ferry, Colorado River

T
HEY SLOWLY DRIFTED
down the Colorado River, a steady rain muting the brilliant colors of the canyon into softer pastels. The inflatable raft, loaded with supplies, bobbed on the surface of the Colorado. These calmer waters were noisily pitted by rain that made conversation harder, but not impossible. Sound was amplified by the sides of Marble Canyon, a pseudo-marble section of the Grand Canyon with smooth, polished walls of rock.

Max rode in the back, using the engine tiller but no power to navigate, while Karinne and Anita sat on the sides and simply watched, letting the current take the raft downstream. Dangerous rapids were nonexistent in this part of the canyon. Cory sat in the bow, looking out for boulders. She and Anita also practiced with the paddles in this slower area. So far, the women had done well as paddlers, despite the poor visibility. The raft carried four oars.

“This is such a beautiful place,” Karinne said. “If only there wasn't so much traffic.” Far ahead of them other craft floated, while behind them a large pontoon boat with more than a dozen tourists carefully negotiated the bends.

The canyon walls loomed upward, their colors distorted by the rain, the color bands merging up toward the rims with a shimmering fluidity. It never presented the same vista twice, yet each different panorama provided a magnificent, raw beauty as timeless as the waters that ran beneath their raft.

“The canyon has as many moods as days of the year,” Max remarked. “You should've brought your cameras.”

“I don't think my cameras could do justice to this,” Karinne said. “They couldn't capture it, not even with a wide-angle lens.” She gestured to the towering splendor, her head craned back as she gazed up at the riot of colors. “And certainly not in one trip.”

“Or in one season,” Max added. “Which is why we get a lot of repeat business. People who come once can't wait to see it again.”

“It has a wild uniqueness all its own,” Karinne agreed. “I can see why you never tire of it.”

“Max can really wax poetic,” Cory said, “but he's right. And here comes more rain…”

“I hate monsoon season.” Anita huddled into the yellow rain slicker.

Karinne, on the other hand, had thrown back her head, pulled her rain-spotted sunglasses off and continued to take in the beauty on either side of the river. She caught Max's eye, and smiled.

By midmorning the rain had stopped, and conversation became easier. The party of four had traveled through limestone and sandstone walls.

“Break time—Mile 4.5,” Max announced.

“How can you tell?” Karinne asked. She'd seen only a few mile markers.

Max pointed upward. “The Navajo bridges—old and new.”

Above them spanned the old 1929 Navajo bridge and, at its side, the new bridge, connecting North Rim to South Rim.

“And here I thought you had some clever trick up your sleeve,” Karinne said, grinning as Max and Cory pulled the raft ashore.

“Who's ready for coffee?” Cory asked, helping the women out as Max unloaded a portable gas burner.

“Can we do a real fire?” Anita shivered. Her clothes, especially her jeans, were wet below the slicker.

“My sneakers are sloshing,” Karinne seconded.

“We won't have a fire until tonight. We have to prestack fuel for fires,” Max said. “Change clothes if you want. Hopefully the sun will be out soon.”

“I'm glad this isn't a photo session,” Karinne said happily. “I can just
enjoy
it.” She let Max pull her close and hugged him back. They kissed gently, mindful of the others.

He brushed the hair from her forehead. “Where are we?” she murmured.

“Still in Marble Canyon,” Max said.

“Feels good to stand.” The riverbed pebbles crunched under their wet shoes as they stretched their legs.

“Let's see if you feel the same later on. We have rapids coming up.”

“So soon?” Anita asked, overhearing them.

“Badger Rapid, Mile 8,” Cory said. “Named after an explorer who made badger stew there.”

“But the alkaline water turned the animal fat into soap. Hence, Soap Creek Rapid, right after Mile 11.” Max spoke with a guide's practiced ease, his arm firmly around Karinne's waist.

“I'll pass on eating badger,” Karinne said. “But the rapids should be fun.”

“As long as we stay in the boat,” Cory warned.

“Wise words,” Max said. “The white water is tricky here. Cory and I will steer. If you go overboard, don't try to push off from the rocks or fight the current. Just concentrate on getting air, and you'll beach down below. We'll find you.”

“We've never lost a customer,” Cory said, reassuring Anita, who looked a little nervous. “And we'll have calm water for a bit.”

The four stood and gratefully drank their coffee, warming themselves until Max ushered them back into the raft.

“Ahh…here comes the sun.” Karinne took out her sunglasses with the sports strap as the miles of multihued rising cliffs and shoreline boulders heated and baked the humidity, first into steam, then into air. The smoother waters calmed her nerves, as did the company of the others, particularly Max, but the mist seemed unsettling.

“We're rafting through shale now,” Max said. “Keep an eye open for prehistoric fern and insect fossils. After a heavy rain, you can easily see the exposed ones in the rocks.”

Karinne spotted the first fossil—and Anita whipped out her digital camera to snap some shots.

“Badger and Jackass Canyons coming up,” Cory sang out. “Ladies, stow your paddles and hang on.”

“Badger's on the right, Jackass on the left. The rapids form where their streams empty. Check your life jackets, and hold on tight,” Max warned. “Remember, if you fall out, don't fight the current. Keep your arms close to your body. Just let the current take you into the calmer waters and wait for us.”

“I'm
not
going swimming today,” Karinne insisted. “You ready, Anita?”

“As ready as I'm going to be.” Anita held tight to her straps.

“I'm right here.” Cory met Anita's gaze, then turned to face the rapids.

The Colorado River frothed more white than dark as the side canyon stream tumbled into the main body of river water.

Karinne heard Anita gasp as Max and Cory expertly guided the raft though the obstacles. Karinne laughed, her spirits lifting. She felt as if she was on nature's greatest roller coaster, bouncing up and down, her sunglasses spattered, her grasp secure on the raft's handles. When they finally emerged into calmer waters, Karinne felt happier for the experience.

“Everyone okay?” Max asked.

“Still breathing,” Anita replied. She seemed to have lost much of her nervousness.

“Great,” Karinne said, pulling down her life jacket, which had crawled up in the roughness of the water. “In fact, I could do that again.”

“You will. Soap Creek Rapid is three miles down,” Max told them.

“Are you ladies still warm?” Cory asked.

“Warm enough, I guess,” Karinne said.

“Okay, then, we'll just bail and keep on going.”

The water had soaked everyone from head to toe, despite the women's slickers. The men, who rarely bothered with them on the river, untied the plastic folding buckets and passed them to the women to bail water. The inflated raft wouldn't sink, but navigation would be easier without the extra water weight downriver. For this trip, Max shut off the motor, which he'd used for the rapids. The current alone would propel them.

“I wonder if I should become a river guide,” Anita said suddenly. “Accounting is starting to seem awfully dull.”

“Frankly, I never thought of you as the guide type, Anita,” Karinne said as the men continued to navigate.

“I think she'd do all right,” Cory said.

“I need a job. Why
not
join Cory?” Anita asked.

Karinne stopped bailing. The thought of being with Max around the clock was a heaven impossible to imagine, not with the children Max always said he wanted. Or maybe Cory had a point. Maybe she hadn't
allowed
herself to imagine it.

“Before we hit the rapids in a few minutes, watch the shale and sandstone. It dates back to the Pennsylvanian Period. Here the layers are full of reptile fossils. You should be able to see them.”

The women nodded, studying the various rocks. The layered rock and cross-bedded formations glistened in the steaming humidity fogging off the walls.

“I can picture this as a primordial mist,” Karinne said. “And dinosaurs are wading around the next bend. Max, can we hike around the fossil beds?”

“For preservation purposes, it's not allowed. Sorry,” Max said as Karinne sighed in disappointment. “But the next time we stop, it'll be for the day. We'll do the House Rock Rapid, then the Roaring 20s before pitching the tents,” Max said.

“What are the Roaring 20s?” Anita asked.

“Mile 20.5 through Mile 27 is all rapids,” Max explained, taking in the other watercraft about them. “Hence, the Roaring 20s. We'll camp around Mile 32. We'll stop early enough to beat the crowd and get a good campsite.”

“We have trail bars if you get hungry before then,” Cory offered. “Plus a big dinner and campfire stories afterward.”

“I love ghost stories… How about you, Karinne?” Anita teased.

Karinne thought of C. C. Spauldings's “The Toll”—the nameless skeleton in an old photograph—and wondered how the family of the deceased man had lived the rest of their lives without closure, without details. All of a sudden, one pink sweatshirt and a note had put her back in that category.

“I'm not in the mood for ghost stories,” Karinne said honestly. She hadn't told Anita about the note from the woman claiming to be her mother.

“Karinne?” Max asked. “You okay?”

She wasn't. That photo had reminded Karinne of her mother and set off strange dreams. Something about that image—the lost soul, the pathetic skeleton faceup by the side of the water—had upset her, despite her professional interest. It represented the loss of a family member, perhaps someone's parent. Someone like Margot.

Suddenly, she didn't look forward to the evening campfire with her usual enthusiasm. She felt uncharacteristically uneasy, definitely unsettled. Her smile back to Max felt weak in response. She settled herself safely into the raft, checked her life jacket and grabbed at her safety loops.

“I'll be fine once we get through those rapids.”

The water current pushed the raft ahead. Max restarted the engine for additional power and began the journey. The men steered through the turbulence, but Karinne couldn't get into the spirit of the ride.

Anita's exhilaration showed. She even cheered, “Faster!” as the large silver pontoon raft behind was catching up to them.

With its larger engine and heavier weight, the pontoon raft traveled faster through the rapids than the smaller raft,
and soon gained on them. Max and Cory also noticed the approach of the pontoon with its dozen passengers.

“They're getting awfully close to us!” Cory yelled out, making corrections with his paddle.

“I see them!” Max yelled back.

“What do we do?” Anita asked.

“The bigger boat has the right of way,” Max said. “Don't worry—we're fine.”

Their smaller raft certainly seemed more maneuverable, Karinne decided, holding on tightly. The Colorado River could easily accommodate both craft, even in the rock-and rapid-strewn areas. Karinne watched the approach of the silver pontoon with its passengers whooping at the impromptu race. The pontoon pulled beside them, white water showering everyone, but both captains could see well enough to maneuver.

The pontoon's pilot yelled a friendly greeting to Max, then began to pull ahead. Karinne blinked. One older gentleman in the raft was actually snapping pictures with both hands! Karinne sat up straight, admiring the nerve of the photographer, and wondered if he was a professional or hobbyist. She dashed water from her eyes and squinted, trying to get a better look at the camera, when she suddenly noticed the woman directly behind him.

Another splash beneath the smaller raft lifted them into the air, and for a moment Karinne was exactly level with the woman. It wasn't just
any
woman—it was her mother….

Older, a little heavier, but Karinne knew that face. The woman turned her head, giving Karinne a full frontal view instead of a profile. Their eyes met. Karinne gasped in shock and her fingers loosened on the straps, just as a huge powerful plume of water hit her in the chest and swept her overboard.

As her back slapped against the water, she thought
she heard the woman call out her name, but Max's voice drowned it out. The icy water sent chills up and down her body, the current kicked her about. The force spun, bounced and haphazardly dragged her through the rapids. Then she lost sight of the yellow raft and the silver pontoon. She almost panicked. She bobbed up again and managed to catch a glimpse of Max.

“Hang on,” he shouted. “We're coming!”

She felt his strength become hers and wrapped her vulnerable arms around her life jacket, letting the Colorado take her, its human cork, wherever it pleased. The cold felt unbearable as Karinne fought for air in the maelstrom. Suddenly, she found herself caught in an eddy, whirling around and around the edges. It seemed almost alive as it tried to pull her down into the murkiness of the deeper waters. Karinne kicked hard, using her arms, desperately struggling to keep away from the eddy and the hidden rocks beneath it. Despite the life jacket, she felt her strength failing as the sucking current pulled at her feet.

“Karinne!” Max yelled. “Stop fighting! Hold your breath and let it take you under!”

Karinne couldn't see his face, nor could she see the yellow of the raft or the silver of the pontoon.