Spitfire (Puffin Cove) (9 page)

They passed signs for towns such as Heart
's Desire, Heart's Delight, Dildo. She giggled adolescently at that one. He rolled his eyes, his mouth quirking into a teasing grin, and that ridiculously sexy dimple deepened in his right cheek, sending a whoosh through her stomach.

She didn
't think that there was any other place in the world with such colourful names, or homes, or people. They passed fishing villages, jetties busy with activity, boats of all shapes and sizes bobbing happily both near to shore and far out on the sea. Retired vessels rested aground, their worn wooden ribs bleached, sunning themselves in their well earned repose. Seagulls, gannets, and a multitude of birds for which she had no names swooped and dove, communing then scattering in their never ending search for fish.

They drove through Clarenville, a metropolitan population about its daily business, a city like many others she
had known. As they started and stopped at lights and signs, she longed to get back to the road by the sea. She hated to waste a second of this day looking at coffee shop signs and grocery store fronts. The next half hour tested her patience. As they drove inland she chewed down her irritation. Always one to have control, she realized that this was a good lesson to learn. Just because she wasn't the one at the wheel didn't mean she couldn't enjoy what the day was giving. And just because they were heading away from the sea didn't mean that she wouldn't see it again.

And then
she did. God, it was beautiful. They wound around the shore, the sun glinting like diamonds on a dark velvety cloth of ocean. Would she ever tire of looking at the sea?

"
Hungry?" he broke into her silent reverie.

"
Famished! I hadn't even thought of it 'til you said the word, but now I could eat a horse."

"
How 'bout a moose?"

She
jerked her eyes to him. "I didn't think you would eat moose. I got the impression you were against that particular food group."

He laughed at her
, and the sound rolled through her like rich, mulled wine. "Whatever would give ye that notion?"

"
That night I first came to town…you got so upset when I'd nearly hit one, I just thought you were like some kind of animal activist, or vegetarian or something."

He laughed again
. The crazy woman. She had thought that he was angry that she had possibly harmed a moose. Recalling his reaction, he sobered. "No, 'twas the other way around. It upset me that ye could have been so foolish as t' have rammed the thing and hurt yer self."

"
Really. Huh. All this time I thought you held it against me that I could have jeopardized a moose's life."

He started to explain
. Then stopped. He wanted this day to be about getting to know her, not about her learning why he over-reacted to her near miss. He didn't want her pity. Didn't want it to colour how she might see him. He just wanted them to enjoy a trip around the bay.

"
How's this look?" He pulled the car into the small gravel lot of a clapboard shop. The Salty Cod invited them inside with deliciously scented promises.

"
Oh, man. It smells fabulous." She slipped out of the car and turned toward the bay.
"Iceberg! Iceberg
!" she shrieked. "Kane! Look! Right there in the bay! Oh, my God! Look at it!" She bounced up and down, grabbing his arm and smiling like a loon.

Kane
's eyes crinkled and his laugh rumbled out of his chest in slow waves. "Spitfire, that's only a wee bergy bit, not even a growler. Wait 'til ye see a real iceberg." His arm snaked around her waist and he gave her a little squeeze. "Come on, let's feed that wild imagination o' yers as well as yer empty stomach."

They took a
table in the restaurant and he pulled out the chair facing the window for Laura. Excitement danced in her eyes, and she barely looked at the menu. She continued to stare out the window in rapt fascination as the waitress came to the table.

The young woman plunked a basket of flaky biscuits and
whipped butter down in front of them, and filled glasses with sparkling water flavoured with plump lemon slices. She gave Kane an appreciative once over, then screwed up her face at Laura, who was still looking out the window.

"
First iceberg," he cocked a thumb at Laura.

The girl
chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Aw, that's no iceberg, love. S'only a bergy bit. We get the odd one here in the harbour. This wee one'll be gone in a couple days. What'll you have, folks?"

Laura
's bottom lip poked out, looking as though her inner-child was mourning the car-sized iceberg its impending doom.

"
Laura?" he chuckled softly at her. "What would you like fer yer lunch?" He hated to interrupt her, so much was he enjoying her pleasure.

"
Oh," she tore her gaze away from her iceberg to glance at the waitress, then it lingered on Kane. "I'll have whatever you're having."

"
Coffee and two bowls of root vegetable soup, please darlin'." The waitress blushed and locked eyes with Laura, fanning her face and winking.

They both laughed at the girl
as she made her way back to the kitchen.

"
Don't be worryin' now, Spitfire. Ye'll see bigger and better bergs before the day's through."

She smiled and propped her chin on her hand, sighing at the pure white lump plopped in the middle of the harbour like a misshapen blob of whipped cream
.

"
So tell me about Laura. Besides knittin' fine socks," which were damnably hot but which he was loath to remove, "what else do ye do? What did ye do before ye came to the Rock?"

"
Well, there's not much to tell, really. I'm pretty boring."

He quirked an eyebrow and the corner of his lips at her
. She looked a little self-conscious then, and he was sorry for it. They had hardly had a moment of discomfort since they had left his farm hours before. Then, strangely, a look of defiance stole across her features.

"
I've run away from home."

He waited a beat, and when she didn't elaborate, he quirked the eyebrow again
. With that, she blew out a sigh.

"
My life had come to a point where I wasn't living it. My boys didn't need me anymore, my job was not fulfilling...I needed a change. I knew I'd love it here, so I left my old life behind and thought I'd see if a new one here would suit me."

"
Yer boys? Ye have children?"
Jaysus.
He hoped he didn't look as shocked as he felt.

Her eyebrows shot up as high as
he was sure his had. "Well, yes. I though Jill would have told you."

"
Never asked Jill. Wanted t' hear about you from you."

"
Oh. Well."

A m
ild blush suffused her cheeks, and she smiled softly at him. Ah, that gorgeous smile did stupid things to his gut.

"
I have two sons. Kyle is twenty-one, and Kevin is nineteen. Their dad…I…we divorced when they were young. Our agreement was that I raised them, at my insistence, and then when they were finished high school they'd go to live with him. It's worked out well. And with cell phones and the internet, I keep in touch with them just as much now as when they lived under my own roof. Actually, we talk more now than we did then. I think they're missing me, now that I've come here. And I miss them like crazy too. But this was definitely the right thing to do. I love it here, and I was becoming miserable back home. They're going to come out for a visit here once I get a place of my own."

"
This'll probably sound like some kind of a line, and I don't mean fer it to, but ye don't look old enough t' have children of that age."

She did look young
. And sexy as hell. But he wondered how anyone could leave their children behind, and why marriage was so damned dispensable these days. He wished it didn't, but somehow her admission had brought his rising opinion of her character down a notch.
Ah, shite.
Who was he to judge? He tried to stuff that niggling sense of disappointment aside.

"
Well, Joel and I married young, had the boys young. It wasn't how I would have mapped out my life if I'd had a choice, but it is what it is. All I ever wanted was to be a mother. And I loved it. I do love it. But being a mom to young adult males is a whole lot different than being one to youngsters. They don't need me near anymore. Oh, I know they still need me in other ways. They know that my love is unconditional, and that the second they need me I'll be there for them. They just haven't needed me for a while now. And so, for the last year or so, I stagnated. I started to hate who I was becoming."

"
So ye married right out of school? That must've been a bit hard fer yer folks t' take."

"
Ha! You don't know the half of it! Joel and I were high school sweethearts. My parents loved him, always hoped we'd get married someday. Then I got pregnant. They were disappointed in one way, but thrilled in another. They were only upset that my plans to go to nursing school were postponed. After the t…after Kyle was born, I went into training. It was a lot of work, and we were crazy busy for years, but in the end I had beautiful sons and a good career."

"
And ye don't want to nurse anymore?"

"
It's funny. I loved my own kids so much, and I loved the kids I cared for. Sometimes too much. And as the years went by it wore me down. All that death and abuse and broken kids with lousy parents. I could help fix their physical wounds and illnesses sometimes, but I couldn't fix their tortured lives. Every child who didn't have as good a life as what I had worked so hard to give mine burrowed into my heart. I know that I wasn't supposed to care so deeply, but it was my way. In the end, it tore me apart."

She looked down
at her hands, and remembered out loud for him the most difficult cases in her last few years of work. She told him about the four year old, anaemic because his selfish mother had no rules or boundaries and he took in nothing but milk and chocolate pudding and potato chips. The one month old, on life support with nothing but blood visible on her brain scan from being shaken by a teenaged, drug-addicted father. The fourteen year old girl, suicidal, a victim of sexual abuse.

And then the one that
broke her. The seventeen year old boy. A tall, good looking basketball player who reminded her so much of her own boys. Who died of acute lymphocytic leukemia, bleeding out in his parents' arms while Laura stood beside the bed, sobbing, impotent. She had gone to his funeral and gripped the hands of her fellow nurses. She told him that the hospital was diligent about debriefing their staff after a particularly difficult case, but that she just couldn't pick herself up after that.

"I
went on and worked another two years, but that young man's life, death and family tragedy haunted me. I worked hard to be a good nurse, but my efficacy had slid to the point where I just didn't think that I wasn't doing the right thing anymore."

When she was finished, emotionally exhausted
and more than a little freaked that she'd essentially laid bare her professional cowardice and personal weakness, laid it right out there over root vegetable soup, she almost couldn't look at him. God. Why had she done that? He must think she was such a jerk. His expression was dark and unreadable. Stormy. God.

He stood up, having paid their bill many minutes before while she was lost in her memories
. Taking her by the hands, he pulled her from her chair and wrapped one big arm around her shoulders, the other around her waist, and held her tight for long minutes. Oh, and it felt so good. He didn't think she was slime! She melted into him, accepting the healing, beautiful warmth of his body, and let the sweet in him steal into her hurting heart. There was something so special about human touch that demanded nothing but that it was a gift accepted as given.

"
Let's go find some icebergs, Spitfire," he whispered into her ear.

Chapter Eight

The second leg of their trip took them up the Bonavista Trail
. Laura was captivated by the picturesque village of Trinity. They wandered through the town, touring the restored Hiscock House, a museum to a wealthy merchant and his family, the guides dressed in period costumes of the early 1900's. The home exhibited original artifacts and furnishings, Laura's active imagination deeply affected by the thought of the people who must had lived and loved and died in this very house those many years ago. It was no wonder she loved antiques.

She could never look at an old piece of furniture without wondering about who used it, sat on it, delivered their children on it, kept their clothing in it
. Antiques equalled fantasy to Laura. She could run her hand over an iron knob or smooth wooden surface and think about someone else's hand resting there in a long ago time, living a harder, simpler life. And she would marvel at the strength of the human spirit.

S
houlder to shoulder, they stood before the pristine Anglican church, its pointed, leaded windows and pure white wooden siding at once imposing and inviting. The red trim leant almost a touch of whimsy to the solemn edifice in a charmingly Newfoundland-ish way. The headstones in the graveyard were weathered and worn, the names and dates obliterated by time, some crooked and listing, others straight and true after all the summers and winters gone by. They hiked to the top of Brown's Lookout and Laura caught her breath at the picturesque town below. Saltboxes and red roofs, church spires and green, green grass, scattered around winding roadways, all of it snuggled up around the blue, blue bay.

She could look at this scene forever and never grow weary
. She took a deep lungful of fresh sea air, closed her eyes in reverence, and sent up a prayer of thanks to God for her life, her health, her boys, and her new friends.

How had she gotten so lucky
?

Feeling almost like
she was insulting the beauty of another time, nevertheless she pulled her camera from her bag and snapped at least a dozen pictures in rapid succession. She would never forget this scene, but wanted to send home snatches of her newfound life, spreading to her family back home the lure of the land she had come so quickly to love.

She caught a profile of Kane, his black curls caressing his whiskered cheeks and high forehead in the spring breeze
. The straight roman nose and strong squarish jaw were slightly raised to the warmth of the sun, a faint smile upturning the corners of his lush mouth. He was so quiet and deep. And gorgeous. He turned his smiling eyes to her and she dropped the camera guiltily.

They walked back down the hill, stopping in at a craft shop
. Laura was greedily enthralled with all the hanks of colourful wool, and filled two bags. She giggled at Kane's "How many feet do ye think I have, woman?"

A
gift shop that clung to the shore beckoned, and while Laura admired the local jewellery and blown glass, Kane sifted through artists' prints. Laura chose a bag of moose antler buttons. Kane chose a bag of salt water taffy. They ambled back to the car, their mouths working the chewy treats, and as he wondered how her kiss might taste, she wondered how soft his lips might feel.

"
Was that enough of a hike fer ye, or are ye up fer another?"

More. He wanted more. Squee!
"Oh, I could definitely do another! Where are we going now?" Her dorky enthusiasm was embarrassing even to her own ears, but he seemed to be infected by it, and he winked and smiled. The dimple deepened in his right cheek, that goofy whoosh went through her belly again, and seriously, she felt her eyes actually cross. God! She hoped he had missed that.

His rumbling laugh told her that he probably hadn't
. She uncrossed her eyes, rolled them, and grinned back at him.

"S
hould have just enough time before the sun goes down," he told her cryptically, and she sat on her hands to keep from clapping in excitement as they drove the short distance from Trinity to Port Rexton. Passing a snug harbour, she jerked up in her seat and craned her neck out the window.

"
What are all those?" Dozens and dozens of blue balls floated in the bay, lined up like a child's game of marbles. Kane pulled to the shoulder, and his beautiful voice mesmerized her as much as the sight.

"
Mussel lines. The balls have lines attached t' them, the lines all strung together under the water. The farmers put maturin' mussel larvae into these sock thingies and attach 'em t' the lines. They stay under the water there and grow fer two or three years 'til they're mature and ready t' slurp down with garlic and butter. Mmm," he growled, sending butterflies into spastic fits in her stomach. "Now I'm after wantin' 'em. We'll have to have us a feed soon. Do ye like mussels, Laura?"

"
I've had them in seafood dishes before and liked them just fine. But I've never had a whole feed of them. Sounds decadent and delicious. Now I'm after wantin' 'em too," she teased.

Kan
e reached over and tugged on her hair. She stuck out her tongue at him with a grin. But her grin froze on her lips and she went liquid when he hissed in a breath through his teeth and his features grew tight. His hot eyes searched hers, a jolt of electricity shimmered between them, and Laura broke away first to turn her head and hide her flushed face. It took more than a few seconds before she saw his hand rise up to restart the car.

They regained their composure once again on the short drive, and h
e pulled to the side of the road in front of a sign that read 'Skerwink Trail'. It mapped out the cliff and inland trails, the flora and fauna that could be seen along it. The sign warned that the trail was just over five kilometres long, and not for the faint of heart.

"
Sure ye're up fer it, Spitfire?" He gave her a shiver-inducing full body scan.

Geez. If he asked her if she'd be interested in hopping onto the road in front of the next passing vehicle, she would have given it a go.
"I am if you are."

Kane raised the roof on
the convertible, Laura slung her camera over her shoulder, and they made tracks.

They chatted as they walked along the trail, pointing out gulls and jays, crowberries and azaleas
. The trail was alive with sights and sounds and smells. The pair of humans frequently paused to watch and listen to the songs of robins and sparrows, the ugly squawk of a beautiful grey jay, or the comical beep of a nuthatch, and they breathed deeply of the sun-warmed, piney air.

As they neared the cliffs the t
rees became short and scrubby. The sign had said that the thick conifers were called tuckamores, and their arms were draped with fuzzy moss that looked like ancient moth-eaten lace, called Old Man's Beard. Although the tuckamores weren't tall, neither were they young. The sign had said that they could be several decades old. The haunting trees leant the landscape an otherworldly feeling, almost eerie. Laura shuddered, glad that the sun was still shining through the tops of the trees. They rounded a bend and Laura bounced into Kane's backside as he pulled up short, then turned to steady her.

"
Look."

He drew her to his side, and they looked out into t
he Atlantic. "Oh, Kane," she breathed. "Oh, my God."

It was spectacular
. There, out in the ocean, was her iceberg. It rose majestically up in pure white peaks, the depressed centre looking like a giant Poseidon had once sat there on his throne, presiding over his denizens of the deep. She wished that she could be closer to it, but had read that only about ten percent of an iceberg was visible above the water, and that at anytime it could shift and roll, sucking unsuspecting explorers down into the sea while it altered its visible shape completely. She stared for long minutes at the magnificent site, watching the gulls and terns swoop in an air ballet.

"
It's really incredible, isn't it Kane?"

"
Aye, Laura. It is." His voice was soft, and so serious.

She
closed her eyes. God. So much was filling her. She was overwhelmed with all the beauty that had suddenly filled her life. She opened her eyes, and shifted them to the other breathtaking phenomenon vying for her attention here at the tip of the cliff. The sea stacks jutted from the ocean just off the rocky shoreline, great towers of rock crusted with mosses and tuckamores. Razorbills and ptarmigans swooped and glided, revelling in the freedom and glory of the day as much as Laura was, squawking their delight while she held hers silently to her breast. She studied the crevices and nuances of the ancient granite stacks, always and ever amazed that green life grew in the seeming absence of earth.

At the base of the stacks the ocean frothed and slapped, spraying flecks of white foam high into the air
. She squinted her eyes, thinking she saw darker movements in the sea. She wished she had the boys' binoculars. Then she remembered that she had her camera and pulled it off her arm, zooming the telephoto to point to the base of the rocks. There, playing in the surf were...

"
Kane, look! Otters! Look!"

Laura
slung her arm close around his shoulders, holding the camera to his face. He held her hand to steady the camera and absorbed the contact, distracted from the glory of nature by the glory of warm, scented woman, using the excuse of otters to prolong the touch. With his eyes to the view finder, he closed them. He breathed deep, inhaling the scents of her and the sea and the forest. It had been long, so long, since he had been touched, held. Since he had allowed it.

There had been times, offers
. It was never right, had always felt wrong. Always, he had thought of Fiona, and felt like a cheater. But here, now, with Laura. It was good. No. It was damn near perfect.

Helpless not to, he turned in
to her arms, sliding his hands up to cup the back of her head, splaying his fingers through her hair, the strap of the camera sliding down her arm to dangle to the ground, forgotten. He gave her his eyes, and captured hers.

He brought his lips to within a breath of hers, and tilted his head
. Softly, so softly, he whispered, "Laura."

Her
heartbeat that had been tripping along, thrilling to his nearness, slowed and thickened. The echo of every cell careening through the channels of her veins throbbed in her ears. Every nerve ending was alive, tingling with fearsome expectation, and her breath stilled in her chest.

The kiss was everything
. Soft and electric. Sweet and spicy and hot with unknown desires. His body moulded to her, and her hands fluttered to his hips, then tentatively ran over his back, feeling his breath matching hers, deep and uneven. He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, and she tasted sea and salt water taffy. Her lips parted on a soft moan, and his tongue slid into her mouth, caressing hers, inviting it to dance. She kissed him back with unrestrained fervour, her sensitized breasts pressed against his chest, her hips fitting to his, feeling his arousal, thrilling to it.

His fingers tightened in her hair, kneading then spreading,
and his head dipped to change the angle of his mouth on hers. One hand dragged down her back and gripped her bottom, pulling her closer, the other still buried in her hair. They swayed and strained together, tasting and savouring and learning.

He dragged his mouth from hers and
groaned, "Sweet
Jaysys
, can you kiss," as he rained kisses across her jaw, down her neck, and he buried his face there, sucking the scent from her. "Ah, Laura. I've been wantin' t' do this since the night ye blew into me life."

She arched her head back,
giving him greater access, her body liquid and pliant in his arms. Right that moment he could have thrown her to the pine blanketed ground and done anything to her and she would have joyfully submitted, participated. She had never had this strong, this deep a passionate reaction. A tendril of fear licked through her. Not of him, but of her need. Her loss of control. It was almost…panic.

She pulled back from his se
eking mouth, panting. He gave her his eyes, and they were no longer that sparkling, Celtic blue, but deepened by passion to smouldering, pulsing sapphires.

"
Kane," she whispered weakly. She tried to gather her shattered breaths, and he lowered his head to rest their foreheads together, and slid his nose across hers. She knew that he must have seen the fear in her eyes.

He murmured,
"It's gettin' dark, Laura. We should head back."

They made the trek out of the enchanted trail, finishing their hike with the waning light
. When they got back to the car Kane opened her door, gently guiding her into her seat, suddenly treating her like Dresden. He pulled onto the road, neither having said a word since the tip of the trail.

He turned to her, raised an eyebrow, and smiled
. "I know of a place, good wine, great mussels. Interested, Spitfire?"

"
Very," she grinned.

They feasted on buckets of mussels dripping in garlic and butter, mopping the juices with thick crusts of bread, sipping crisp Chardonnay
. They talked about their day, recapturing their earlier ease with one another. Much later he returned her to her car parked at his farm.