Carved in Stone (21 page)

“This letter is to the journalism advisory board at Columbia University. It is a notarized admission of my fraudulent award and contains a check in the full amount of the prize I received.

“I am sorry for so many things. I make no excuses. I have always loved you, but I have failed you in every possible way. I didn’t realize, until Jessie called and told me you were missing, how very much you mean to me, how much I could have lost. I hope that, someday, you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”

He handed the unsealed envelope to Alex and slowly left the room. Watching him walk away, his shoulders slumped in defeat, she wondered how she could possibly have been so wrong about so many things.

Chapter 16

The sun had set more than an hour before but the horizon still glowed faintly lavender. The sea churned with a natural phosphorescence that reminded Alex of the underground grotto.

The night sounds of the ocean were all rush and thunder, none of the restful silence of the forest after dark. Alex leaned back in her deck chair. She wrapped a sea-blue afghan around her shoulders to ward off the chill of the evening and let her father’s words fill her mind.

He had spoken to her today on so many levels, about many different things. She wanted to take time to absorb his words. She needed to understand them completely.

The unopened envelope dangled between her fingers. She didn’t need to read it to know it contained exactly what he’d told her—his admission of guilt, formally signed and notarized, and addressed to the committee responsible for selecting Pulitzer Prize nominees.

When she thought of all the things he had said to her, she finally accepted that this was the least important of all. His apology was sincere. Alex realized that was all she had ever really wanted. That and the knowledge he loved her.

“You didn’t have to do this, Dad, but thanks.” Whispering softly to the night, she forgave him. Then she carefully tore the envelope with the check and her father’s letter into dozens of tiny pieces. Walking to the edge of the deck, she leaned out over the railing, tossed the scraps into the air, and watched them flutter on the sea breeze until they disappeared into the darkness.

She leaned her elbows on the wind-scarred railing, breathing deeply of the tangy air. She missed the mountain smells, the sharp scent of cedars, the clean fragrance of alders by the creek, and the mushroomy scents of the damp woods.

Most of all, she missed Nate.

She wondered if her father realized how much he had told her today. She smiled at his description of her mother as hardheaded and stubborn. At least now Alex knew she came by the same traits honestly.

But her mother’s stubbornness ultimately had killed her. Alex sympathized with her father’s guilt. And she agreed with him. Stubborn pride destroyed, and the shattered relationship she had with Nathan Murdock was proof.

Her chance of happiness was lost.

She had no one to blame but herself.

When she’d accused Nate of being autocratic and chauvinistic, she was wrong, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it. He had only been worried, and every bit as frightened as Alex.

She tried to put herself in Nate’s place as lover and employer, with the added ingredient of a lifetime of male conditioning that made him feel responsible for her safety. It wasn’t control at all that made him act the way he did.

It was love. She was just too damned stupid and bullheaded to realize it.

In jest, Jessie had called her a control freak. Alex couldn’t help but feel diminished by her introspective thoughts. Her friend had been right. Alex realized now the only one she had truly lost control of was herself.

What a fool she’d been to walk away from a man like Nate.

It was so much easier when they were trapped in the cavern. She really hadn’t expected to get out of there alive. Loving him, giving herself more completely than she had believed possible, was easy when you didn’t have to worry about the future.

Jessie was right again when she’d said control worked both ways if you loved someone. When it came right down to it, Alex realized she was guiltier than Nate of being autocratic and just plain bossy.

A quiet step on the wooden deck startled her. She hadn’t seen her father all afternoon. The concern in his voice surprised her.

“Alexandria? It’s getting cold out. Why don’t you come in and have a bite to eat.”

“I’m not really hungry, Dad, but thanks.” She turned around to thank him and realized his step was lighter, his shoulders more erect than when she had seen him leave the room earlier in the day.

“I didn’t see the letter on my desk, Alexandria. I’d like to get it in tomorrow’s mail. Do you still have it?”

“It’s gone, Dad. I tore it up.”

“But why? You deserved that award, not me. Alexandria, I’ve carried that load of guilt all these years. Don’t you think it’s about time I quit living a lie? You should have the recognition. I didn’t earn it. You did.” He stepped across the short distance and leaned against the railing next to Alex. “I don’t blame you for hating me. I’m so very sorry for all the pain I’ve brought you.”

She turned to look at him, astonished by his words. “I don’t hate you. Please don’t think that. I realized today the award meant nothing compared to what I didn’t know about my mother. You would never talk about her. My only regret is that if I’d known how you felt, what had actually happened, things between us might have been different. Better.” Her throat tightened. She felt the hot sting of tears.

So much time wasted.

She grabbed his hands, feeling the bumpy joints and calluses. “Dad, I’ve never hated you. I love you. I just wasn’t sure how you felt about me.”

He let go of her hands to envelope her in a hard embrace. He was trembling when he finally pulled away, his eyes sparkling in the pale glow shimmering across the deck from lights inside the house.

His smile was bittersweet. “I’ve got something to show you. Come down to my darkroom. Please?”

The familiar chemical smells in the darkroom reminded Alex of childhood visits with her father. On rare occasions he’d let her watch while he developed his negatives and enlarged the prints.

Alexander flipped on the light. Alex saw a row of damp prints hanging to dry. All black-and-white photos of a beautiful young woman. Her hair was long and dark, her cheekbones, like Alex’s, wide and pronounced.

Alex walked across the small space and lifted the corner of one photo, then turned to look at her father. The tears that glistened in his eyes must have mirrored her own as she gazed at a likeness of her mother’s face for the first time.

“I thought you destroyed the pictures you took,” she said, accusing and thanking him at the same time. “How?”

“I saved the negatives. I could never destroy them, but I couldn’t bring myself to print them either. She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” He took a photo of Pilar off the line, one of the young woman in native dress, a basket artfully balanced on one shoulder.

“She was already pregnant when I took this, but she hadn’t told me yet. Alexandria”—he looked directly at her, his eyes piercing in their intensity—“I lost your mother because we were both too damned hardheaded to really listen to each other. Don’t make the same mistakes we did. If you love Nathan Murdock, give the man a chance.”

Surprised, she raised her head to look at her father. How did he guess what this was all about? “It might be too late, Dad.” Her voice broke on the words. “I said some terrible things, and then I ran out on him when he needed me.”

“If he loves you, it’s not too late. Get a good night’s sleep, then go to him. C’mon,” he said, putting an arm around her. “Let’s have some dinner and get to bed. You can get an early start tomorrow.”

“I don’t know, Dad.” She felt as if her heart would break. “I think I really blew it.”

Nate packed the rest of his climbing gear away and brushed the sand from his faded jeans. He wondered how Alex was. She’d been gone for three days.

It felt like three years.

The roar of the helicopter hovering beyond the ridge brought him to attention, and he cursed Roger Dalton for the disruptive noise. He knew that wasn’t the real problem, but it was hard to admit he still hadn’t forgiven his friend for taking Alex away.

By the time Dalton sauntered into camp, Nate was bathed and dressed in clean clothes. He offered the pilot a cup of coffee. He never had been able to stay mad at the big guy. Besides, the camp seemed terribly lonely without Alex. It would be nice to have some company.

“So how’s it goin’?” Dalton asked, sitting on the log opposite Nate.

“Okay, I guess,” Nate answered, wondering why Roger was here.

“I’m sorry I cut you off the other day,” Dalton finally said, taking a sip of coffee.

“That’s okay, I guess I deserved it. I was pretty rough on her.”

“I knew something had happened.” Dalton looked embarrassed, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “She cried all the way back to the airport. She never said what upset her, but she was really shook bad.”

“Basically she’d just told me to take a flying leap, and at that point I probably deserved it.” God, he’d played such cheap shots, willing to stoop to anything to get Alex to fulfill her final five weeks of the contract. Anything to keep her close to him. He knew he’d never forgive himself for pulling rank on her like that.

The worst part of it was, he didn’t think she’d forgive him either.

“I’ve got a meeting to go to down near Carmel,” Dalton said as he refilled his coffee cup. “I thought you might like to come along for the ride.”

“Why would I want to go there?” Didn’t Roger realize he was right in the middle of the project? Nate had a lot more on his mind than a weekend at Carmel.

“Just thought you might be interested. By the way,” Dalton added, grinning, “Jessie Burrows called. She said Alex’s gone over to Big Sur to spend some time with her father. It’s only a few minutes flying time from where I’ll be. In case you’re interested,” he repeated, laughing.

Nate paused briefly, then set his coffee mug on the log next to him. “Tell me something, Dalton,” he asked, trying not to laugh. “Would you go after a woman who equates love with a power play?”

“I would if she looked like Alex Martin,” Roger answered, slapping his knee and laughing. “That woman could boss me around anytime.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Alex closed her overnight bag and placed it on the floor. Her father handed her a heavy manila folder—the photos he’d printed of Pilar Corzo Martin. Tears filled Alex’s eyes when she grasped the folder. There were no words for this gift. None. She threw her arms around her father and hugged him as tight as she could.

“I just ask that you do what’s right for you, Alexandria.” His voice was ragged, cracking with emotion. “And I hope that includes inviting me to the wedding.” He held Alex away from him with an encouraging smile.

“I think it’s too late for that, Dad.” She picked up her bag and, walking out of the guest room, set it by the front door. “But if Nate hasn’t decided to terminate the contract, I’ll fulfill my obligation. If I’m lucky, we’ll at least be able to part friends.”

She turned to give her father one last hug, enjoying the strength of his arms and the unique sense of family he had finally given to her.

A loud knock startled both of them. Alex pulled away so Alexander could open the door.

“Nate!” Alex stepped back, shocked by his subtly altered appearance, the windblown hair, the tired and defeated look on his rugged face.

“Running away again, Alex?” he asked softly as he glanced at the bag by the door. His dark eyes were a commanding force holding her in place, compelling her to answer.

Controlling her. Loving her.

“Running to,” she answered breathlessly, so full of love for him, feeling it sweep over her, a hot wave of need and desire that took her breath away. “I’m so sorry, Nate.” She took a step toward him.

“No.” He took one step closer to Alex. “You shouldn’t apologize. I was wrong. I never should have pushed you like I did. I had no right to think I could make your decisions for you, I . . .”

Alex closed the last few inches, and then she was in his arms, holding him, feeling the need pulsing through his body in the strength of his arms, the warmth of his embrace.

She lifted her face to his, offering her lips, her soul, her very life to him. The light touch of his mouth on hers was a heartfelt affirmation. He still loved her. Still wanted her. Shocked, Alex realized Nate’s face was as wet with tears as hers—tears that washed away pain and fueled desire.

Finally Nate broke the contact, gently, regretfully. He smiled at Alex before speaking directly to her father.

“Alexander, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, but knowing Alex, I think I’d better discuss it with her first. Will you excuse us a moment?”

“Of course, son. You’re a wise man to let her think she has a say in the matter.” Alexander smiled fondly at his daughter’s suddenly rebellious expression.

“We’ll talk about bride price and dowry later,” Nate added, dodging a quick jab Alex poked in the direction of his bruised ribs.

“A couple cows should suffice.” Alexander rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe a pig as well.”

“Look, you two macho . . .” Alex sputtered, laughing at her father and her future husband, feeling the love that surrounded her coming from both men.

“I don’t know, Alexander,” Nate continued as if Alex hadn’t spoken. “She’s pretty bossy, I think you’re pushin’ it with the pig.”

“Men!” Alex howled, laughing as she pulled out of Nathan’s arms and turned to face both of them. “Yes, Nate, I’ll marry you, and no, Dad, no cows and no pig!” She reached out, grabbed both their hands, and felt the link complete with her touch.

Her father stared at her for what felt like forever, his blue eyes bright with tears. Finally he leaned over and kissed Alex’s forehead, his lips a benediction she’d never expected. “I’ll settle for a grandchild,” he said. “I promise to be a better grandfather than I was a father.”

“We’ll get right to work on that grandchild.” Nate pulled Alex back into his arms. “That’s something we can agree on, don’t you think so, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” Whispering against his lips, she kissed him. “My name’s Alex. And yes, I think we can definitely agree on that.”

One month later . . .

“Oh, Nate, it’s raining on our wedding day. I think that’s supposed to mean bad luck.”

The gentle rain had come out of nowhere. A single line of clouds had blown over the precipice, hovered a moment near the petroglyphs and then dumped rain over the small wedding party at the base of the cliffs. The shower had lasted mere minutes, but it soaked Alex’s muslin gown so that it clung to her willowy hips and firm breasts.