Storm the Author's Cut (12 page)

They stopped at St Mary's spring and cupped their hands to collect some of the cold spring water. Legend said anyone who drank the water of St Mary's would always return to the islands.

"I'd love to live right here." Laurie stood back from the spring and stared across the highway at the ocean. "Wouldn't it be amazing to wake to this view every morning."

"If this is what you want, you and Ken could find a house or a farm out this way."

"I suppose. "

By the time they reached Tlell the sun was firmly established and the sky clear of storm clouds.

Laurie and Bev found a large beached log to shelter them from the wind that whipped up sand on the beach. They settled in the sand to drink a cup of coffee from their thermos before exploring. After coffee they walked along the beach looking for the semi-precious agates that could often be found on the islands.

They took off shoes and socks and walked barefoot in the sand, wading in the surf until their ankles ached from the cold of the water. When they were hungry, they ate sandwiches, then fell into the car, exhausted, for the ride back to Queen Charlotte.

Halfway back, Bev saw the sign. "Look! There's your place."

The For Sale sign was back from the road far enough that they hadn't seen it earlier when they drove north. Laurie slowed down.

"I was kidding. We can't really live out here."

"Why not?"

The house was old, nestled into the trees. This wasn't farmland, but the building looked like a small farmhouse.

Laurie couldn't resist. She turned into the drive. "Can you imagine waking up every morning, looking out through those trees to the ocean?"

"I don't know, Laurie. Look at the house. It's old. Can you see Ken tearing out walls and putting in fiberglass batts of insulation? If you're going to live in it with my brother, you want something modern and perfect. Ken never did care for used goods."

Laurie got out of the car.

The woman standing on the porch was elderly, her face lined with kindness. Had she brought up a family here? Had her sons climbed the trees and chased each other into the bushes behind?

"I'm Laurie Mather. I saw your sign..."

The woman's hand felt fragile and warm as it gripped Laurie's. "I know your voice—From the radio station? I listen to you every afternoon."

"Thank you. This is Bev McDonald, my friend. Could we see the house?"

Bev was right; it needed paint. Mrs. Evans had lived alone in the house since her husband died three years ago. It was evident that she had had no help with maintenance.

"It's too much for me," she told the girls. "The paint is peeling and the garden overgrown. It's sad to see it get run down. I'll move to Vancouver. My daughter wants me to come." She stared at the house, her eyes filled with memories. "It was a happy house," she whispered. "But it's time for me to leave."

The living room featured a bay window where Laurie could imagine herself sitting to watch the ocean. The kitchen was old fashioned with only an old woodstove for cooking. The oak banister leading upstairs cried for a child to slide down it.

Upstairs, she found a master bedroom with a fireplace and a gorgeous view, and two smaller rooms in the eaves of the peaked roof. Laurie and Bev walked around the house with Mrs. Evans and finally accepted tea in the warm kitchen.

"It's lovely, Mrs. Evans. I have to think about it."

"Of course, dear. If you want to talk business, go into the real estate agent in Queen Charlotte City. They have all the papers. I'm not good at business. My Edward handled all that. But you and your young man could be happy here. It's a happy house."

"When are you planning to move?"

"I'm only staying so I can sell the house. I don't like to leave it empty."

"Are you serious?" asked Bev as they drove away.

"Maybe." She could still feel the warmth of the woodstove and she knew that she could be alone in that house and not feel alone. "You heard her about the insulation? It's been re-done just four years ago."

"The only way I see Ken moving out here is if you offer him a modern three bedroom with a two-car garage and a lawn you can mow with an electric mower."

Laurie gripped the steering wheel. It had started to rain. Where had the rain come from? Out of a blue sky?

"Ken may not want to marry me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know." She wished she could tell Bev, but surely Ken deserved to be the first person she told. "Nat offered me Peter's job. Program director."

"Does Ken know?"

The rain had quickly turned into a downpour. The clear sky had clouded over. Her car wheels whished on the wet pavement and Laurie knew the highway well enough to slow down to a crawl for the blind curves.

"I just got the job offer," she told Bev. "I'll tell Ken tomorrow." The road straightened and she accelerated back to highway speed. "But I'm taking the job."

"Shouldn't you talk to Ken first?"

"He wants me to quit the station. I should, but..." She had spent last night making love with another man. Would Ken be able to accept that? It might help if she offered to quit the job at the station, but she would always resent Ken for making her quit. "Maybe I don't love him enough."

"Laurie..."

The car was noisy from the engine and the rain. Bev's voice was soft. Bev was always soft, always there to help.

"I'm in a mess."

"If you need help..."

How many times in their childhood had Bev helped her out of a mess? "Thanks for the offer, but I guess this one is my own problem."

Ken hadn't returned when they arrived back at the house. It might be that the moving was taking longer than anticipated, or he might be staying away to show his anger with her. Either way, not seeing him was a respite she didn't deserve—but welcomed all the same!

Laurie and Bev watched television with Mrs. McDonald. A not-so-new movie was followed by the latest hit series and the national news. The news was depressing. Trouble in the Middle East; trouble in Africa; trouble for Laurie on Haida Gwaii.

Bev made fudge and all three women ate it, although Mrs. McDonald groaned that she would put on another ten pounds. Mercifully, Ken hadn't come in when they all went up to bed.

Laurie fell into a fitful sleep.

She breakfasted alone the next morning. Usually Ken was down before her, but today he did not appear before she left. Laurie was already dreading their dinner together that night. Making her confession was bad enough without the inevitable fight about her job.

At the station she was immediately caught up in the task of preparing for the Noon Show and Island Time. The weekend rescue operation bumped anything else that might have made it on to the shows for this Monday.

By the time morning finished, she had an exciting assortment of supporting telephone interviews in the can: five minutes with a JRCC official, a great interview with the manager of the logging camp, and a short telephone interview with a crash victim who spoke from a hospital telephone. She tied all the interviews together with a commentary that included her own first-hand report of the search.

Nat read it with excitement.

"Record it! We'll give it to the network. I know Vancouver will take it—even Toronto may take parts. This is good stuff!"

She recorded her own commentary and spliced in the interviews. Then she made up a condensed version for the Noon Show. The full report would air on Island Time that afternoon.

Nat walked into Studio 2 as she and John were finishing the Noon Show. "What are you doing for lunch, Laurie?"

"Meeting Bev."

"Cancel. You're coming out with me. Impossible to have an uninterrupted conversation here."

"But Bev will have already left..."

"I'll stand in for you," said John.

"Are you sure? You might get lynched by your admirers." If John Wainright took Beverly McDonald to lunch it would certainly start people talking.

"My female admirers are gentle women."

Laurie left him too it with a laugh.

Luckily Island Time was in the bag, because Nat kept her until almost two, talking over details and duties of her new job. When she got back, the show went off without a hitch. As they closed the show, John threw the switch, giving control back to Harry in Studio 1.

"That was a good one," said John.

"It felt good. Let's hope Ellen gets positive 'phone-in comments on it." She hesitated, then said, "Nat says Peter won't be coming back to the station. He's retiring,"

John had his headphones off and was stretching his long, lean body. "Did Nat offer the job to you? You deserve it."

"I—Yes, but what about you? You've been here longer."

"I'm happy where I am. The job was made for you."

"Well, I've accepted it."

"And the boyfriend?"

She grimaced. "I haven't told him yet."

"Don't wait too long," he advised her.

After John left, Laurie tidied up. She was sorting through the news items for the six o'clock news when Ellen rang through to tell her that Luke Lucas was out front.

"Send him in." Her voice was as casual, but her hands were shaking. What did Luke want of her? Yesterday he had stared at her without even a smile.

"Hello, Luke."

He let the studio door swing shut behind him. He rammed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and walked a few steps into the room before glowering at her.

"I just finished listening to your report on Island Time." He had tuned her in from five thousand feet up in the air, but he didn't tell her that. "I don't want my name all over the airwaves."

"I respect that you don't want to be interviewed, but you can't complain when I give a factual report of what I saw with my own eyes."

"I bloody well am complaining."

"Your competition would do anything for the free advertising you got this afternoon."

"I don't want free advertising and I want you to stop putting my name on the air."

"Why?" This made no sense at all. Lots of people didn't like interviews because they were afraid of adverse publicity; but she had reported the search as it happened. There was nothing but praise for Luke's part in it. After today, he would be getting new customers. As she had told him, it could do him nothing but good.

"I don't want the network to pick it up." He paced restlessly. It was a small room and it wasn't made for pacing.

"But why?" National publicity wouldn't do his business any harm either.

Harry was in the next studio, staring curiously through the glass. Luke glared back at him. The only one explanation Laurie could think of was Bev's crazy notion. "You don't want your father to hear it?"

"I'd rather he didn't. I've managed to avoid fighting with him the last few years—only because I haven't seen him."

"He doesn't know where you are? Don't you think its time you made contact again?"

"I doubt it." Luke swung away, still pacing. She remembered how he had led her down from the edge of the cliff, protecting her from the storm.

"I'm afraid the story's already gone, Luke. It went to Vancouver this morning and they'll probably use it. It's probably already been aired."

"That's that, then." He pulled his hands from his pockets. She had a crazy urge to stop him from going. "Try restraining yourself in future, would you. "

"If there's news, Luke, it is my job."

"Just don't go out of your way to find news around me."

"All right, but I can't speak for anyone else—John or—"

"The others I can handle."

Was he saying he couldn't handle her?

"Do you think your father will hear it?"

"If he doesn't, someone will tell him." He shrugged his broad shoulders. Did his father look like him? Burly and forceful, with that hard, lined face? His father's hair would be grey. Luke's hair had touches of grey in it. She remembered the feel of it on her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Luke. I didn't mean you any harm."

"Don't worry about it. I wasn't quite ready for my father, but I don't suppose it matters." His lips curved in a half smile. A moment ago she had been sure he was furious with her.

"How are you doing?" His eyes were serious now. He had to be talking about her and Ken.

"Fine. I don't know." She'd been fine all day, but if she remembered Ken and their dinner date tonight, she knew that 'fine' was the last word to describe her state.

"Did you tell him?" She couldn't read what was in his eyes. She dropped her own gaze to the papers in her hand. She had crumpled the top news item beyond recognition.

"No, I... Tonight." That had been going around and around in her head. She still had no words that she could use to tell Ken she had spent a night in another man's arms. She had told no one about it. She couldn't imagine telling her mother—certainly not her father! She couldn't even tell Bev, although her friend knew something was wrong.

She had betrayed them all. If her father knew, he would be hardly less upset than Ken. "I don't know how."

"It was a strange night—the storm and the searching." Luke's voice was incredibly gentle. Your memories of your brother and the crash, and I'd hardly slept in days. Maybe we were both a little insane that night."

"It was my fault that my brother died."

Luke sat across from her and took her hand in his, stilling the trembling in her fingers.

"I wanted him to make that flight, nagged at him until he agreed. He thought it wasn't safe but I wanted to fly into Prince Rupert for the weekend. It never occurred to me anything might happen—the weather wasn't as bad as this weekend, but there was fog. The last thing we saw was Bonilla Island Lighthouse. After that—"

His eyes were so dark, she thought she might drown in them. "They all died, and it was my fault."

On the other side of the glass, Harry spoke to his microphone with silently moving lips. Luke held her eyes while his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

"If your brother had his pilot's license, then he was trained in weather, trained to know the dangers. Every time there's a storm I get customers wanting me to fly regardless of the weather. They're not trained pilots but I am, and if I fly that plane when it wasn't safe, it doesn't matter who asked me to do it—whatever happens is my responsibility. If your brother flew when he shouldn't have, that was his responsibility—not yours. Just how bad was the weather? Gale warning?"