The Way Home oj-2 Page 5

  Spend tomorrow with me. I’ll tell you about Maya. And you can tell me about J.R.

  “Do we have a destination?” Ty’s question brought her back to the here-and-now.

  The way he asked made her smile. “What’s the matter? You getting tired already?”

  She knew otherwise. With upper-body and arm definition like his, he could paddle all day and not wear out. Besides, zero wind and calm water made their trip practically effortless.

  “Just getting curious about your plan. We’ve passed some interesting islands. Makes me want to get out and explore. I’m thinking Native American artifacts galore. Ojibwe, right?”

  “Somebody’s been doing some reading.”

  “Blame it on your friends. The cabin is full of reading material on local history. I even learned some things that you didn’t tell me about at dinner last night.”

  She laughed at his good-natured teasing. “Yeah, well, that was the free lecture. You want more details, you’re going to have to pay for them.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He was very easy to be around, this man. Easy to smile for. Easy to talk to. Easy to look at. And she had been looking. He had a nice stroke, competent and capable, and he knew how to handle himself around the water. No doubt, he knew how to handle himself in any number of situations.

  While safety laws required that they wear life jackets, a thought did occur to her. “You do swim, right?”

  “Am I going to have to?”

  “It’s not in the plan, no. But the weather can be unpredictable. I’ve been out on the lake before when a squall came up and we had to race for cover.”

  “I can swim,” he assured her.

  “Good. Because it’s about forty-five feet deep right below us.”

  They’d passed Picnic, Ram and Sheep Islands in the first hour, paddled on past Harris, and were about to round the wide end of Sugarbush when Jess balanced her paddle over her lap and motioned for Ty to do the same. She reached into the dry storage hole, pulled out her dry bag and the pair of binoculars she’d packed along with lunch and a first-aid kit she never went anywhere without.

  After a quick check to confirm what she saw, she motioned Ty closer. When their kayaks gently bumped, she handed him the glasses.

  “Two o’clock. Off the tip of that jutting stretch of shore.” She held the kayaks together as he lifted the glasses. “Past the white rock. In the water heading toward shore.”

  He focused, searched, and grinned. “Bear.”

  “Yup. A sow and twin cubs. They’re swimming right behind her.”

  “Wow,” he said, still grinning. “That is amazing.”

  “Blueberries are getting ripe, so they swim from island to island filling their bellies.”

  “Are they a threat?”

  “Black bears? Not so much. Not unless you corner them or get between a momma and her cubs, which we definitely are not going to do.”

  He handed her back the glasses, and she took her turn watching the bears, even though they were close enough now that they could see them without the help of the magnification.

  They watched until the lumbering trio disappeared into the island’s thick undergrowth. Tyler took a pull on his water bottle while she packed the glasses away.

  “And that just made my day complete.” He pointed overhead.

  A full-grown bald eagle bore down on them, its wingspan at least seven feet, talons extended.

  “He’s fishing,” Jess said, and right then, the eagle swooped down to the water’s surface about ten yards ahead of them, reached deep, and came up clutching a wriggling fish.

  “Man, oh, man. That is so freaking cool!” Ty exclaimed on a laugh.

  She agreed. It was cool. So was he. She liked it that he didn’t try to hide his excitement. And she found herself taken again by how easy he was about everything.

  “So you’re a nature boy.”

  “Unapologetically.”

  “How is it, then, that you ended up in Florida?”

  “Ever been to Key West?”

  “Nope. North Carolina is as far south as I ever got.” She’d lived on a few military posts as an Army wife. Most of the time, it was she and the other wives holding down the fort while the men were deployed.

  “There’s more wildlife in Key West than you’d think. Especially at night.” He grinned. “Truth is, while I like it there—crazy tourists, cruise ships, Keysie ways, and all—it’s not the area I’d have chosen to set up shop. But I didn’t pick it. It picked me.”

  “How so?”

  “You really want to hear this?”

  “I do.”

  They’d increased their stride again and were easily moving toward Nashata Point and Stalinsky Bay. The promised conversation about J.R. and Maya hadn’t begun yet, but they had the rest of the day. Frankly, she felt fine talking about anything else except J.R., although she couldn’t help but be curious about Ty’s story.

  “When I separated from the Navy, I was at loose ends for a while. Really didn’t know what I wanted to do. I had some time on my hands and knew one of my old commanders had retired in Key West. And when I say old, that’s a relative term. He was fifty. He’d always told me to come and see him when I got out. So I did. Turns out he’d started an air charter business a few years back, then expanded to air cargo.”

  A pair of loons surfaced ten yards to their left and, apparently not bothered by their presence, cruised around for several seconds before diving again.

  “As it also turned out, he was looking for a pilot. He wanted to expand his fleet and his routes. Asked me to join him. So I did.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Almost five years now. Three years ago, though, he got a wild hair and decided he wanted to pack it in and retire—for real this time—in Tahiti. He offered me a sweet deal on the business, so I bought him out, and that’s how I ended up in Key West.”

  “It sounds exotic. Jimmy Buffett. Margaritaville. Surf. Sand. Sun.”

  “Humidity, hurricanes, spring break, and a nightmare of federal regulations that make my teeth ache. Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. And business is good. But being here… well…”

  He paused, and his silence compelled her to look at him.

  “Being here is special,” he said, with a smile that was far more intimate than a conversation about Minnesota should be. “And not only because of the wildlife and the scenery.”

  “There’s a little beach where we can put in on the north shore,” she said, knowing she was blushing again and hoping he’d think the exertion and the sun were at fault. “I thought we’d stop there and have lunch before heading back.”

  “Show me.”

  She pointed to an inlet about a hundred yards away.

  He smiled that “I’ve got your number” smile again, and she felt that roller-coaster rush she experienced far too often since he’d shown up in her store yesterday afternoon.

  “Race ya.”

  It should have come as no surprise that he’d be competitive. “You’ll lose,” she promised, and, glad for the diversion, she dug deep with her paddle.

  Behind her, he laughed. “Who said go?”

  “Already looking for excuses?” she yelled over her shoulder.

  “No, ma’am.”

  She could hear his paddle rhythmically break water as he raced after her.

  “Just so we both agree: winner gets to pick a prize.”

  “Fine. And loser gets to start the fire and roast the hot dogs.” She didn’t look back. She focused on the shore and gave it everything she had. “Hope you were a Boy Scout.”

  Another laugh. “Hope you’re a good loser.”

  TY WATCHED JESS’S very tidy backside as she bent over the round iron fire ring and lit a match to kindling. “You can tell a lot about a person by the way they handle a good trouncing.”

  “That was not a trouncing. You beat me by a nose.”

  “A win’s a win.” He smiled, knowing he shouldn’t be enjoying t
his so much. The lady was a contender. He liked it. But winning the race had cost him. He’d had to dig really deep, tested some muscles he hadn’t tested for a while, and he could feel it in his lower back now. Not the smartest thing he’d ever done. Not that he planned to let her see he was in pain. “I could have let you win, but then you wouldn’t have respected me.”

  She snorted and gave him an indignant look, but he could tell she enjoyed their little back-and-forth. “Should have warned me that you were a gloater.”

  “One of many things you don’t know about me. Yet.”

  Yeah, that’s right, he thought as she got real busy with the fire. Get used to it. You’re going to get to know me. And you are going to talk to me.

  Feeling pretty smug, he lay back on the blanket she’d produced from the dry hole in her kayak along with a soft-sided cooler filled with fresh grapes, hot dogs, all the fixings, and two cans of soda.

  The woman was nothing if not resourceful. But then, he’d already known that. She’d brought kindling and newspaper and matches, the Park Service had provided the fire ring, and together they’d gathered enough deadfall wood to get a nice fire going.

  “I like my dogs nicely browned, not burned, by the way.”

  “You’ll like ’em the way I fix ’em.” She straightened and dusted her hands together, then shot him a look that made him laugh.

  “Yes, ma’am. I believe I will.”

  She sat down on the blanket beside him while they waited for the fire to get good and hot. They’d both worked up a bit of a sweat during the race. She’d stripped down to a tank top and shorts, and he’d tossed his long-sleeved shirt and pants aside in favor of the T-shirt and shorts he’d worn beneath them.

  The day was postcard-perfect. As she’d promised, it had warmed up; the sun burned bright, and a gentle breeze stirred up and swept a little ripple on the water. What had once been a mirror of glass was now a softly crinkled surface sparkling like multifaceted diamonds.

  “So what happened to your back?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts with the equivalent of a sledgehammer.

  He wasn’t ready to go there yet. “What makes you think something’s wrong with my back?”

  She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. “I’m a nurse, remember? I noticed the limp last night. And yes, you hide it well. You didn’t do yourself any favors playing king of the kayaks, though, did you?”

  He didn’t want to talk about his back. Was angry that he'd given himself away. He looked back out at the lake. In the very far distance, a fishing boat skimmed across the water, leaving a white rooster tail in its wake. It was only the third boat he’d spotted since they’d left this morning.

  “I also saw the scars,” she said quietly. “Your T-shirt rode up when you shucked your other shirt. I recognize surgical scars when I see them. Is that what ended your military career?”

  He set his jaw and wrestled with the idea of telling her.

  “Sorry,” she said, saving him from sharing the gory details. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just want to make sure you’re OK.”

  “I’m fine.” And basically, he was. Now. Bottom line, though, if he expected her to open up, he’d have to do the same. “I’ll tell you what. Since this whole outdoor adventure is about getting to know each other, and we’re both reluctant to talk about certain aspects of our lives, let’s do rock, paper, scissors to decide who gives up a secret first.”

  “Rock, paper, scissors? Seriously? I haven’t played that since I was a kid.”

  He smiled. “My brother, Mike? That game was his way of solving everything. Come on. Live dangerously. Winner gets to ask a question. Loser has to tell.”

  “You’re big into competition, I see.”

  Another engaging grin. “Go big or go home.”

  Chapter 7

  JESS DIDN’T GIVE HIM AN answer right away. Instead, she got up, stirred the fire, pronounced it ready, and loaded a stick that he’d sharpened with hot dogs.

  He let her have time to think. She liked that about him. OK. What didn’t she like about him? Telling herself that no matter that her gut told her this was a good guy, the truth was she didn’t know enough about him to answer that question.

  So they talked about the lake, about the Park Service—she was oh so good at the tour-guide shtick—and then, with their stomachs full and the sun warm, they both lay back on the blanket with a comfortable distance between them and indulged in the summer day.

  “Where are all the mosquitoes Minnesota is so famous for?”

  “They don’t like the sun. Walk ten yards into the woods, though, and you’ll find them—or they’ll find you.”

  He seemed content to be lazy for a while. She liked that about him, too. J.R. had always been a neutron-charged mass of energy. He couldn’t sit or stand still. Ty, apparently, had an off switch… or at least, a low setting.

  She wasn’t altogether sure, but he actually seemed to have fallen asleep. He’d thrown a forearm over his eyes and his other arm above his head. He had one knee cocked, and his breathing was deep and steady.

  She could do with a nap herself. She hadn’t exactly slept well last night. Truth was, she’d hardly slept at all.

  I’ll tell you about Maya. And you can tell me about J.R.

  She kept replaying his words in her mind, too antsy to sleep. Being around him kept her on a mid-level adrenaline high. She was so aware of him. Of how his eyes softened when he watched her. How his smile came so quickly and how he could easily direct it at making fun of himself or teasing her. And this close beside him, she became hyperaware of the muscle and mass of him, the sweat and heat of him, the utter maleness that had been missing in her life for so long.

  She rolled to her side and looked at him—the way she’d wanted to look at him for what seemed like a very long time. Only looking got her into more trouble, because there were so many physical complexities and perfections that it made her antsy in another way that had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with chemistry.

  She wanted him in her bed. There. She’d admitted it.

  And that fact scared her as much as it excited her. And made her very, very warm, suddenly.

  Careful not to wake him, she stood, then walked to the edge of the water. She’d worn her swimsuit beneath her clothes, so she stepped out of her shorts and tossed them and her top back onto the sand. Then she waded in slowly, biting her lower lip to keep from gasping as the cold water started to engulf her.

  One thing about this lake. The air temp could be ninety degrees, but the water never got much above sixty. Swimming in Kabby was not for the faint of heart. Once fully submerged and with her body acclimated to the cold, though, it felt like heaven.

  She was floating on her back and concentrating on not letting the water get into her nose when she realized she had company.

  “Holy iceberg.” Ty waded slowly toward her, shivering and briskly rubbing his arms. “Who added the ice cubes?”

  She laughed and righted herself, treading water as he waded deeper. “Just do it,” she said. “Dunk. Much better to rip off a Band-Aid than pull it off slowly.”

  He looked doubtful, then took a deep breath and did a shallow dive in her general direction. He surfaced on a gasp.

  She laughed again. “Not like the Gulf water in Key West, huh?”

  He whipped the hair away from his face and sank up to his chin. “No. Not like the Gulf. You do this often?” he asked around chattering teeth.

  “Used to. When I was a kid, we used to sit in an old-fashioned Finnish sauna for an hour or so, then burst outside and jump off the dock. Talk about a shock to the system.”

  And speaking of shocks to the system… the water was crystal-clear. She could see all the way to the bottom and every detail of the man standing in front of her. Which meant he could see every detail, too—and he was looking. Even though her black swimsuit was modestly cut, she felt self-conscious and exposed.

  “I can see why you love it here.”

&nb
sp; “Summers are great. Winters are gorgeous but brutal.”

  “I remember winter.”

  She smiled. “It’s not a climate for everyone.”

  “I miss snow,” he said absently, and she could tell he was thinking of home again.

  “Rock, paper, scissors, huh?” she asked, resigned and weary of stalling. She also wanted to know more about him suddenly, even though it meant she had to take a chance at giving up something of herself. She valued her privacy, but this wasn’t about privacy. This was about trust.

  He grinned and held up a fist.

  She did the same. “One, two, three.”

  On three, she made a scissors. He made a rock.

  “Rock breaks scissors,” he said unnecessarily, and she steeled herself for his question. “Would you tell me about J.R.? How you met? How long you were married? What kind of guy he was?”

  “That sounds like four questions.”

  “Only one, with some suggestions for fleshing things out.”

  She felt cold suddenly and headed back toward shore. She didn’t have to look behind her to know he followed. Reaching into the cargo hold of his kayak, she tugged out another dry bag, unzipped it, and pulled out two towels.

  She handed him one, wrapped the other one around her shoulders, and huddled beneath it as she sat down on the blanket.

  “We were high school sweethearts,” she said, taking the ripped-Band-Aid approach herself and spitting it out. “J.R. was the guy, you know? Captain of the basketball and football teams, cross-country skier. If it was physical, J.R. was in the mix. And he mastered whatever he decided to do.”

  “He sounds like quite a guy.”

  She nodded and used the towel to wipe her damp hair back from her face. “He was. It was like he was driven, you know? He didn’t have the best home life. His mom left him and his dad and J.R.’s older brother, Brad, when J.R. was only five. His dad didn’t make a lot of money—he worked in the Falls at Boise—and unfortunately, he drank up a lot of his paychecks. He walked out of a bar one night, got behind the wheel, and ran off the road into a power-line pole. The boys have been on their own ever since.”