Storm the Author's Cut (14 page)

Luke rose to his feet, thinking,
He can't have her. She belongs to me.

But of course she didn't.

"Luke, you're not listening to a thing I'm saying!"

Laurie was on the other side of the dance floor; her back to him. She said something to the other couple at her table, and then picked up her bag.

"You asked me for a message for Father. Tell him I said hello. That's all."

Yvette reached a clinging hand when he stood, grasping his sleeve with her red, painted talons.

"Where are you going?"

To follow Laurie. She might need him. Even if she didn't need him, he wanted to be there.

"Goodbye, Yvette. Have a good trip home."

"Luke, what about the bill? You're not walking out on me without paying the bill?"

He laughed. "Yes, I am, Yvette. I didn't invite you to dinner—you invited yourself. I don't see why I should pay. I'm sure your allowance from my father will more than cover the added expense."

* * *

"Come on!" Ken pulled at her arm and she jerked away angrily.

"Ken, talking isn't going to change anything."

"You're not rational, Laurie. We're going home." He grabbed her arm again. When she pulled against him, he gripped harder, his hand gripping her painfully in his anger. He wasn't going to go away, wasn't going to leave her alone.

She wanted to be free of him but he would follow if she headed for her car. The way it was going right now, they might end up in a tussle in the middle of the street, creating a—

A man pushed through between them, forcing Ken back. Laurie gasped and Ken staggered back under Luke's weight,

"What the—"

"Excuse me. You're standing in front of my truck. How about you move the argument? Or, if the lady is tired of the fight, perhaps she would like a ride?"

Laurie choked on a hysterical giggle. When Luke swung into the driver's seat and started the engine, Ken grabbed Laurie's arm to pull her on to the sidewalk.

"Let go of me!"

"Who the hell does that guy think he is? He's drunk. Come on! We can't argue out here, Laurie. The whole town will know about it."

"We're not going to argue at all." The passenger door of the truck swung open. "The wedding is off. The argument is over. Tell your mother I'll pick up my things tomorrow. And
don't
let her call my parents. I'll talk to them myself."

She swung herself up into the seat of the truck and it started moving right away. She slammed the door on Ken's astounded face.

She was shaking as they drove away. Her giggle was more of a nervous reaction than anything else. Luke pushed a Kleenex into her hand and she realized she was crying.

"Oh... I'm sorry."

He drove out of the city, heading north on the same highway she and Bev had taken the day before. Luke didn't say a word, he simply settled behind the wheel and drove.

The truck was a compact import with comfortable bucket seats. She settled back in the passenger seat, closed her eyes, and let him drive her wherever it was he was going.

Miles later, she remembered the woman in the hotel dining room. "What about your date? You were with a woman."

"Yvette. Don't worry about her."

Who was she? "You looked like you had a lot to talk about with her.

Luke ignored the question and concentrated on the highway, maneuvering carefully around a logging truck. "I take it that the argument on the dance floor was because you told your fiancé about Saturday night?"

"On the dance floor? I thought you just walked into that—in the parking lot—by accident. How did you know we were arguing on the dance floor?"

"I'd have to be blind to miss it."

"It wasn't an accident that you happened along just then?"

He didn't answer her for a moment. Then, "I thought I'd be there—in case you needed any help."

It wouldn't have hurt her to stand on the pavement with Ken, fighting it out; but it had been unpleasant. She was glad to be away from it.

"I didn't tell him about Saturday. I was going to, but... It's been quite a weekend—everything at once."

"I thought I was rescuing you from your jealous lover. What was the argument?" He geared the truck down as the highway turned away from the ocean. "Anywhere special you want to go? Should we drive on?"

They were almost at Tlell. If they drove on, they would go inland and north to Massett.

"Could we go to Massett? My parents are there and either Ken or his mother is bound to tell them I've run off. They'll be worried sick." She had always told herself that she liked having a circle of people around her, people who cared for her. It seemed different now, as if those same people were hemming her in—smothering, not protecting.

He followed the curve of the highway, past the ranch that also acted as a forestry station, past the river and inland away from the ocean. There were only seventy miles of highway from one end of the island to the other. They would be in Massett in less than an hour.

"Ken and I were arguing about my job."

Luke geared down, taking a sharp curve with ease. He drove the truck in the same way that he flew an airplane—smoothly, competently.

"I get involved in things at work and I can't just walk away because it's six o'clock. That's a longstanding argument we have—had. Yesterday Nat offered me a promotion, program director at the station. Today Ken called Nat and gave a month's notice on my behalf."

"You don't need changing around—you're just fine the way you are."

Hadn't everyone been trying to change her? Ken and Mrs. McDonald pressured her into their mold, even her father steered her course in his gentle way.

"It's not all Ken's fault. I co-operated, went along with everything they wanted for me. Except for working at the station, I did whatever they wanted of me." But she had only been alive when she worked at the station.

"Seeing my parents tonight, that's not going to be easy. They're going to be upset. They're going to try to make me see sense." They loved her. They only wanted what was best for her.

"And what is sense?"

"Marrying Ken. Having children. Being settled and stable."

In the half-light of the setting sun, Luke's face was inscrutable. "Do you want to marry Ken?"

"No," she whispered. "Everyone thinks it's ideal. That's my fault—I thought... I've been trying so hard to be good, to make up for Shane's death, I forgot to be myself."

Luke slowed to pass a red cow standing by the side of the road.

"I've always thought those cows were so beautiful with their long, red hair," she said. Then, "Maybe I don't know who I am. I've been spending so many years being what other people thought I should be."

"Well, don't rush to get yourself married off. There aren't very many ideal marriages around. The risks are pretty high."

What memories did he have that made him sound so bitter? "The woman you were with tonight—she's not local, is she?"

She could hear his smile in the dark. "Why don't you just ask?"

"I saw you with her in the hotel. You seemed to know each other very well"

"You're responsible for her being here."

"Me?"

"She heard your report on the search, with glowing commendations for my part in the rescue. She was in Prince Rupert, on the mainland—heaven only knows why! Yvette is usually not found in any city with a population of less than a million. She's my cousin. She also knows which side her bread is buttered on. It won't do her any harm with my father if she can go back to Vancouver and tell him she's found me."

They drove in silence. So Luke had been right. Her radio report was going to lead his father to him.

"Is it so terrible if your father finds you?"

He shrugged. "We'll fight. The script is already written. I suppose it's time I made contact with him anyway, but we'll fight and I don't see any way to avoid that—but let's forget my family. They aren't worth talking about. Yvette wants a cash bonus from my father. My father wants a tame heir at hand. What about you? I take it you can't return to your rooms in Queen Charlotte? At least, I expect it might be awkward for you."

"I'm taking the job Nat offered me. I think I'm going to buy a house." She told him about the house on the highway. "I can do the painting and papering that's needed—and the work in the garden. I'd like to live there, looking over the ocean." No one would have the power to tell her what she should do or where she should be.

"If you're going to live out there alone, you should have a dog."

He had a point there. Even on Queen Charlotte there were people she might want protection against.

They talked about dogs, where she might get one and the breed to choose. Then, somehow, they were talking about their ambitions. Luke had plans for expansion in his business, plans also for organizing a network of rescue volunteers—professionals who spent their life in the air and on the water, linked to radio amateurs, CBers and interested volunteers from the general public.

"It's been done before, and successfully. It needs good organization, training programs, and a lot of hard work. But, mind you, don't put this on the radio!"

"It needs publicity."

"Not yet."

"All right."

They talked about the station, her ambitions for the new job. "Someday," she told him softly, "Nat will want to retire. I've never even whispered this to anyone, but I'm hoping he'll make me manager then. I know I need a lot of experience first, but I do have the business administration course. I think I could do it. Of course, it's years away."

"If you want to, you can do it," he assured her. Somehow, his saying that made it really seem possible.

When they approached the lights of Massett, they were talking about the other side of life—sitting in front of a fire, walking the beach, flying above the world. They drove across the causeway that linked the small town to the highway south. In the moonlight, the water rippled with beams of light, beckoning them to journey out on to the ocean.

"So soon," she complained. The trip had seemed endless. They had been suspended in a timeless world in the cab of the truck. Now, suddenly, it was over. Her parents would be home. She must deal with the realities of life again.

"Where to?" He was on the main street now. In a minute he would be through the town.

She directed him to turn, and turn again. He pulled the truck up outside a rambling house at the end of a residential street.

"Will you come in for a coffee?"

"I think my presence would complicate things for you."

"Yes, of course you're right. I have to thank you for bringing me here. I—"

He touched a finger to her lips, stopping her. "You sound like a little girl, following your mother's orders, thanking someone for hospitality."

She didn't feel like a little girl. When he touched her lips with his finger, she had to stop herself from moving her mouth, kissing his hand.

"Don't you think it's time you stopped doing things because you think you should? That's dangerous—almost got you married to a man you don't love." His words were light, his eyes dark and serious.

Her father opened the door; his lean form outlined against the light from the living room.

"I have to go."

"How will you get to work in the morning?"

"Oh, my car!"

"Six o'clock at the Massett seaplane base," he instructed her. "I'll fly you back."

"But..."

Her father had recognized her and was coming towards them on the sidewalk.

"Laurie?"

Luke touched her hand briefly. "Stop arranging your life to please other people."

She shook her head, suddenly uncertain. "The other people matter. They're people I love."

"You won't help them by hurting yourself." He pulled the door of the truck closed. She stood, silently watching him drive away. Why did she feel abandoned, standing alone at the side of the road?

"Laurie? We weren't expecting you, honey! Where's Ken?" Lawrence Mather reached out to her and she was enveloped in his familiar bear hug.

"Hi, Daddy!" She had to swallow sudden, unexplained tears. "How's Mom? Is the coffee-pot on?"

"Of course it is. You know your mother—can't get through an hour without a cup of coffee. She's in the living room, sketching, working on another painting. Let's go in. It's getting cool now the sun's down. Who was that in the truck?"

"A friend."

Was that how she would describe Luke? A friend?

Her father frowned at the truck disappearing around the corner. She moved towards the house, hoping to avoid further conversation about her method of arrival.

She found her mother seated in the living room, a sketching pad on her lap. Her hair had once been black like Laurie's, but now it was graying in two dramatic white streaks at her temples.

"Laurie, how nice!" Her eyes glowed a welcome and she stood, the sketchpad and charcoals scattering.

"Don't get up, Mom," Laurie bent to kiss her mother's cheek. "What are you working on?"

"That cat." She nodded towards the large, tawny colored cat stretched out in front of the fire. "I thought it would make a lovely painting. The colors are so pretty, the cat and the firelight. Now if your father would consent to turn out the light and have candlelight..."

Laurie giggled. "Daddy wants to read!" Her father was a creature of habit and seemed unable to give up his evening hours with a book.

"Yes, isn't that disagreeable of him?" Julia Mather sounded complacent, unworried about her husband's idiosyncrasies.

"Talking behind my back?" Her father complained. He had just come from the kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. "Here's your coffee, Laurie. You're staying the night? Then you won't mind if I go back to my book for a bit?"

She took a deep breath. "Not for a little bit, please, Daddy. I'd like to talk to you both."

Her father frowned. "Surely nothing serious?"

From habit, she almost smiled and shook her head, reassuring him.

Her mother looked up from the sketch. "Sit down, Larry. Let her talk. Now, go ahead, Laurie."

"Ken and I. We..."

Her father anticipated her words, incorrectly. "You want to get married sooner? I'm not surprised. There's no need for such a long wait. You're sure of your feelings."