Wind Shadow (16 page)

“They’re both doing so well that the doctor said they’d be back in Anchorage before we are,” Silky told Annie. “I got their phone number. I promised them I’d let them know when all the packs will be getting together for the ‘Biked-Alaska’ celebration. It ought to be some party—lots of stories.”

“It should be fun—” Annie gasped, swerving wildly into the middle of the gravel road, shouting, “Watch out, Silk! That dog!”

Silky swiveled her head around to see a large,
snarling dog leap from behind the roadside trees. It growled and snapped at her front wheel, making it hard for her to keep upright. She sucked in a frightened breath, but she knew that she had to stay on her bike.

The dog jumped at the tire, its forepaws slamming down on her narrow front fender. She screamed and felt herself falling, her bike skidding sidewise on the loose gravel. The wheels slid under the dog’s legs, forcing it to back away, and Silky ended up on her side in the road, one leg caught under the bike, the other dangerously open to the animal’s attack.

Before she had time to right herself or try to get away, she heard the skidding of another bike. Dazed, she lifted herself up on one elbow to see Wade towering above her. He’d unfastened his water bottle from the frame of his bicycle and was squirting a stream of water into the dog’s face.

Startled by the torrent, the dog dashed away, whimpering, and ran back into the woods. It had all happened so quickly, that Silky could only stare after the retreating ball of shaggy, black fur. Before she had gathered her wits enough to check herself for injury, Wade was bending over her. His face was tensed, his eyes full of concern. “Are you all right?” The whispered words were strained, and she could see a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“I—I don’t know.” She pushed with her forearm and sat up as Wade pulled her bicycle off of her. Grimacing, she bent her leg to try to stand.
Her hip ached, and she was pretty sure that she had scraped it badly when she landed. “Ouch.”

Wade had leaned her bike against a pine tree. “The bike’s okay. Now let’s have a look at you.”

Annie put an arm around her. “Kid, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Groaning, Silky let her friend take a good portion of her weight. “Me neither. It serves me right.”

“Well, we’ll take care of you first, then I’ll shoot myself in the foot later to even things out, okay?”

Silky laughed weakly, shaking her head, but she didn’t say anything as she twisted to look at her leg. Surprisingly, it was practically unscratched. But, as she suspected, her hip was scraped over a three-inch area.

“Yuck! That’s some strawberry.” Annie lifted her upper lip in disgust. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Steady, girl. You’re going to have to help me put a gauze patch on that. I can’t reach it very well.”

Annie sucked in her cheeks and crossed her eyes. Her exaggerated look of distress tickled Silky—until Annie spoke. “Look, doc. You want a car, I’ll get you a good deal. You want your back porch patched, you call on somebody else. The sight of gauze makes me nauseous.” She swallowed heavily, squinting up the empty road. Apparently no one else had noticed their mishap.

As Annie’s eyes swung back to settle on Wade,
an alarm buzzer went off in Silky’s brain and she stiffened, opening her mouth. But she got no further in her attempt to stop Annie’s unthinkable suggestion, “Ahhh,” Annie said, looking around wildly. “What about our cop friend here? He’s trained in basic first aid.”

Silky lifted a shaky hand to her throat, jerking her head in the negative. “No. Maybe you could go get Riva or Beth or—”

“Florence Nightingale? Come on, honey, everybody else is at least a couple of miles on down the road by now. I tell you what. I’ll stand guard outside the bushes, and if either one of you starts calling for help, I’ll ride up ahead and get somebody. How’s that?”

Wade chuckled. “That’s a load off my mind.”

Silky felt like a sack emptied forcefully of its air. Glowering at them both, she ground out between clenched teeth, “You two are very funny. I hope you’re never hurt and in need of my help!”

“From that look, I’d say she has a point,” Annie suggested with an unbothered grin.

Wade sobered, pulling a small first aid kit from his pannier. “Let’s do it, Silky. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“The first time I heard that I was in the back seat of our high-school football captain’s sports car.” She was trying to act as though her injury wasn’t painful. In truth, her hip was throbbing.

Wade lifted a well-shaped brow. “Oh?”

“Yes. He got punched.”

“Look at it this way, Wade.” Annie began to coax Silky forward with a hold that would have been envied by a barnacle. “At least she didn’t say, ‘
too
.’” She handed Silky over to Wade, relinquishing her gluelike grip only when she was sure that Wade was holding her securely.

“Come on, Silky. We’re friends, aren’t we?” he urged with a lopsided grin.

“Sure.” It was a reluctant agreement. “Thanks for your help.” More to herself than to him, she murmured, “It looks like you did a better job of making a friend than I did at getting my …” Her mind flashed to Rex and the scene in the tent. She couldn’t force herself to admit any more.

“At what?” He stopped walking and turned toward her; his face held a waiting, almost hopeful look.

“Never mind. It was nothing.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she limped reluctantly into the trees.

“I seriously doubt that.” Taking her arm, he declared, “Some other time.” Inclining his head toward a mossy area on the north side of a stand of spruce, he suggested mildly, “There’s a soft-looking spot. You lie down on your stomach and—”

She interrupted. “I know how to do it, thanks.”

As she lowered herself to the moss, he admitted softly, “You certainly do.”

The murmured remark, with its definite sensual
overtones, sent a current of unease shooting through her. Once on her stomach, she put her chin in her hands and peered sidelong over her shoulder at him. Trying to inject a degree of calm into her voice, she changed the subject. “When does our cruise ship for the Glacier Bay National Monument tour leave Juneau?”

He was opening a sterile gauze pack, preparing to put disinfectant on the open scrape. His lips twitched with humor. Her abrupt change of subject didn’t fool him. Without looking up at her, he very gently lifted the hem of her shorts to expose her bare hip.

She bit her lower lip, wondering what he was thinking. Though she wanted to close her eyes and turn away, she kept her gaze trained suspiciously on his face. She watched his expression change from vague amusement to serious concentration as he tenderly began to clean the wound. Between clenched teeth, she sucked in a breath, and he stopped immediately, his eyes darting to her face.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m pretty heavy-handed at this.”

Ashamed at her display of weakness, she assured him, “It’s not your fault. Go on.”

Very cautiously, with more care than she had seen most medical personnel take, Wade cleansed and bandaged her hip. Before he was half-finished, she found herself relaxing, and she turned her face away, resting her head on her hands and closing her eyes. He was as gentle
with her wound as he had been with her when they had made love—She started, lifting her head.

“Damn! I’m sorry, Silky.” He misinterpreted her sudden move as pain. “I’m almost finished.”

Biting her lip, she said nothing, waiting for him to complete the operation. “There.” He smoothed her shorts down. “Need some help up?” It was a question, but he was already helping her before she had time to say anything.

Once standing, Silky tested her leg. The hip was tender, making her limp slightly. She didn’t relish the fact that they still had eight hours left to ride before reaching Juneau’s coast and the two-day cruise that would take them to Homer, and their final leg back, to Anchorage. But she was certainly looking forward to the restful cruise—sleeping in a real bed, showering in a real bathroom, and eating at a real table.

“Okay. I’ve stowed the supplies.” Wade stood up, tucking the first aid kit under his arm and taking her elbow. When they reached the edge of the woods, an easy laugh rumbled deep in his chest as he observed dryly, “Well, now we even walk alike.”

Chapter Eleven

L
eonard and I are going to the back of the boat and sit by the pool down on Goldrush deck.” As Annie announced her plans, Leonard helped her from her chair in the Garden Room of the
Royal Alaskan Lady
’s promenade deck. They had just finished breakfast. Grabbing the last piece of toast from her plate, she took Leonard by the wrist and led him away. “Come, Lennie, the glaciers await.”

Silky sat back, enjoying the softness of the leather bench seat of the booth she shared with Rex, Riva, George and Wade. Now that Leonard and Annie were gone, they were all shifting around to take advantage of the extra room. Silky was shifting for another reason, too. Her hip was still a little tender, but she felt really
quite good after her restful night’s sleep in a real bed.

They’d arrived on board last night at Juneau, and as far as she knew, everyone had gone straight to bed just as she had. While they’d slept, the
Royal Alaskan Lady
had traveled one hundred miles to reach Glacier Bay. During breakfast, the captain had announced that they would be spending a good part of the day gliding smoothly along the bay area, viewing some of the most spectacular ice floes Alaska had to offer; and Sag Pack, refreshed and relaxed, was ready to enjoy the rest of their forty-eight-hour sightseeing tour of Alaska’s glacier-dotted southern coast.

She looked around at the people at her table. Wade was wearing a cotton madras short-sleeve shirt in the warm colors of summer. His slacks were khaki, topped with a web belt finished with harness-leather ends. His brown-on-brown Princeton saddle shoes had been a surprise. He seemed so—so Ivy League.

Rex was every inch the fashion model in a high-style black jumpsuit, its front zipper opened in a deep vee to reveal the thick mat of blond hair on his chest. His black suede trail boots had to be expensive, if she was any judge. And she felt that six years of marriage allowed her to be. All those years, she’d paid the bills.

George was dressed conservatively in navy wash slacks and a white pullover cotton knit shirt. It was the first time she’d seen the men all
spiffed up and smelling faintly of tangy aftershaves, and it made her smile to see them looking so civilized, for a change. It had been obvious that the men felt the same way about seeing the women in dresses, considering the compliments she and the other women had received this morning. The experience had been a deviation from the norm, but a pleasant one.

Since none of them had had much space to pack for a cruise, she had brought only one dress. She was glad now that she had picked this mint green sundress. The soft, spring color brought out the mossy highlights of her eyes and enhanced the corn-silk lightness of her hair. After weeks of shorts and T-shirts, she felt an unexpected lift in looking like a woman again.

“Isn’t this wonderful!” Riva gushed to no one in particular, drawing Silky’s attention. Riva, too, was wearing a sundress that was well suited to her dark hair and olive skin. Her dress was of an airy, red gauze fabric that hid nothing of her considerable assets with the generously low sweep of its bodice.

She curled both of her hands around her tall orange-juice glass and lifted her chin toward the wall of windows that circled the end of the room. “Look at that glacier. It’s like a frozen waterfall spilling out of the clouds. How many feet high do you think it is, Rex—three hundred?”

He turned to look out at the glistening snout of one of the sixteen active tidewater glaciers inside Glacier Bay. With a thoughtful frown, he
sipped his juice. “Let’s see, this ship is eight decks high—something over one hundred feet tall, and we’re just one deck below the top—”

“No more than two hundred, from what I’ve read.” Wade drew Silky’s eyes as he answered Riva’s question. “That’s about the maximum height for these ice floes. Anyone care to join me up on deck?”

“Let’s all go,” Silky suggested. “It looks like we’re getting pretty deep into the bay now, and we should be seeing lots more glacier activity.”

Everyone in agreement, they shuffled and scooted out of the booth and headed toward the double doors on the plush, emerald-colored carpet. It was the largest lounge on the ship, dubbed the Garden Room because exotic plants of all shapes and sizes, in giant pots or hanging planters, were scattered around the high-ceilinged salon, giving one the feeling of being outdoors. Except, of course, the gentle swaying of the floor beneath their feet was a silent, ever-present reminder that they were on the sleek white queen of Alaska’s cruise ships.

Silky ran her finger along the mahogany edge of a ten-foot-long planter that was a divider between the double-doored entry and the tables. She mused aloud, “I heard that when the snout of a glacier falls into the bay, it makes such immense waves they can swamp a boat.”

“But not a ship.” Rex laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Sil, you’re in no danger.”

She felt the stab of his words for what they were—a stab. He was being condescending
again. How many times had he spoken to her this way since the Fourth of July? She’d lost count. He obviously needed to punish her—hurt her for hurting him, rejecting him. The truth was, she hadn’t rejected him, not really. She just hadn’t felt well.

She allowed Wade to hold the door for her as she passed outside onto the breezy promenade deck. The cool ocean air revived her flagging spirits a little. Sometime during the course of this trip, she vowed that she would get Rex alone and talk to him.

The day passed from sunny morning to crisp, clear night. They had cruised from Glacier Bay deep into Lituya Bay. Silky’s hair billowed and danced about her face as she stood by the rail of the observation deck. The breeze, sliding off the glacier into the bay, was cold, and she hugged herself as she and over one hundred other passengers listened to the naturalist provided by the cruise line. Their speaker was a young, plain-faced woman with a bright smile and an undisguised love for her work. Holding a microphone, she motioned toward Lituya Glacier as the ship began to circle around toward the mouth of Lituya Bay. Their final destination, Homer, was now twenty-four hours ahead.

In a softly modulated voice, the woman pointed out the towering snout of the glacier. It was a spectacular blue white sight in the late-night sunset. The sky above the ice cliff blazed red and yellow, and the fire of the extinguishing
sun was reflected all about them in the calm waters.

The scene was stunning, almost too beautiful to be disturbed by the human voice. But, Silky admitted, at least the voice was pleasant. “A severe earthquake in 1958,” the woman was saying, “brought down …”

Against her will, Silky yawned behind her hand, shivering. It wasn’t that she was bored; she wasn’t. But it had been a long day, and she was getting awfully cold. The trip had been wonderful, so far, and restful, and the scenery had been spectacular. But she felt a little down, even so. She really needed to have that talk with Rex—to clear the air about a lot of things.

She looked around. Rex wasn’t there. Maybe he’d already gone to bed. Good. Now might be an excellent opportunity to catch him alone. Slipping back through the crush of passengers crowded onto the observation deck, she headed for the stairs that would take her down to the promenade deck’s bank of elevators.

The ride down four levels seemed to take forever. When the door finally opened, she hurried past the closed gift shop, through the empty lobby and the purser’s office toward the fore cabins.

She knocked at his door. “Rex?” she whispered breathlessly. “Rex, I need to talk to you.” Feeling sure that he was inside and on his way to open the door, Silky turned the knob. Pushing on the door she slipped quietly in. The overhead light was on. “Rex I—”

“Oh God!
” The surprised and horrified squeal was definitely female—and familiar. Silky stood stock still as a flurry in the sheets produced first Rex, bolting up, hurriedly covering himself to the waist, and then Riva, her dark hair tangled about her face in the wild disarray of interrupted passion. Silky’s insides lurched as she watched Riva cower behind the covers.

Rex’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he finally blurted, “Silky, what are you doing here?”

She took a step backward into the door. With her weight against it, it latched. Her throat closed as she took in the sight of her ex-husband—a man who had said he was dying for her only days ago—and the beautiful Riva Healy.

“
Silky!
Say something, will you? Don’t just stare like an idiot!” Rex ground the words out through clenched teeth.

Silky stood there, mutely, with her hands pressed flat against the cold metal door. Seeing what she was forced to see was a torture that she wouldn’t have wished on her worst enemy. Though her body had gone rigid and stony, she felt no tears, and she knew she would survive this new—this last—hurt that Rex had caused her. She’d been wrong about the importance of making her marriage work. He’d killed whatever they had had long ago, and she’d done no one any good by trying to bring it back to life.

What had Wade said to her once? Sometimes it’s the marriage that is the mistake? She took a deep breath and felt a little more steady on her
feet. How simple and very clear it all seemed now. The marriage had been the mistake; the divorce had been a blessing in disguise. It was funny that it always seemed to be Wade who—

“If you think the silent treatment is going to work, you’re wrong, Sil. I’m a
man
and I need a
woman!
Don’t forget, you turned me down. Besides, we aren’t married. There are no strings tying us right now! You don’t have a thing to say about this!” he lashed out in a caustic whisper. “So don’t go accusing me of cheating again.”

Silky inhaled deeply, lifting her chin. “Don’t worry, Rex. I just came”—putting her hand on the knob, she turned it—“to say good-bye.” With her shoulders back and her head held high, she turned silently and walked out of the room. As the door closed behind her, so did a chapter of her life that she had never expected to end.

“You’re quite a woman. It took a lot of class to make that exit.”

Her bewildered gaze ricocheted to the tall form leaning against the wall in the darkened hallway. “Wha—what are you doing here, Wade?”

“Sorry, Silky. I saw Rex and Riva leave together earlier, and when you left, too—well, I thought it wouldn’t hurt for me to be handy—just in case you needed a friend.” Gazing thoughtfully at her, he stepped away from the wall. “You okay?”

“Truth?” At his slow nod, she ran a weak hand through her hair, mumbling, “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

He slid an arm about her shoulders. “Then why are you still standing?”

She flung him a distracted look, her eyes brimming with pain. “Lie down and die? No thanks, Wade. I’m no quitter.”

He squeezed her shoulders and began walking with her. His deep voice was soothing, gentle. “That’s what I meant.” Softly stroking her hair, he said simply, “But, you have just seen the man you love in bed with someone else. You do have the right to cry if you feel like it.”

The tender murmur against her ear ripped away the last, violently mutilated shreds of her pride, and she pressed her hands against her trembling lips, blinking to clear her vision. Tears of desolation stole out from beneath her closed eyes and streamed down her cheeks as she bobbed her head sadly. “Oh Wade—” she choked out in a sob. “You’ve been so kind.”

Pulling her close, he led her toward her room. “That’s what friends are for. Just tell me what you need. Would you like to talk?”

“Thanks, Wade, but, no. Not right now.” She wiped at her cheek, sniffing. “I need some time alone—to think.”

She could hear his low exhale as he reassuringly stroked her arm. “I understand.” They’d reached her door, and he turned her to face him. His eyes were vibrant and discerning as he studied her pale face. “But remember, Silky. You aren’t alone.”