CAL brought his canoe to a swirling halt, impaling Marnie with a look of such hostility that for a moment her heart quailed. Then he transferred the hostility to William and demanded, “Is this the friend you were going climbing with in Cape Breton?”
Ridiculous, Marnie thought, a scene right out of True Confessions. Discovering that no matter how alienated she felt from Cal she didn’t want him thinking she and William were a number, she said spiritedly, “William is my best friend Christine’s fiancé’s brother, who arrived from Toronto on Friday morning and who’s going back to Toronto on Tuesday. He can climb in and out of a canoe. Just.”
William said, “You left out the separate tents, Marnie.”
“So I did. Thank you, William,” Marnie said composedly.
William then glanced from Cal back to Marnie. “I gather you two know each other.”
“You could say so,” Cal snapped.
“Why don’t I jump overboard and swim back? That way you can be alone together,” William said helpfully.
“Stay put,” Marnie said with ferocious emphasis. “I’m a mistake Cal made—he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“That’s about as far from the truth as you’re likely to hear, William,” Cal snorted, sculling with his paddle to bring the two canoes closer.
“Where’s Kit?” Marnie asked with a mutinous toss of her curls.
“Back at the campsite cooking supper. She’s a much better basketball player than a cook, so I’m trying to work up an appetite.”
Marnie was too flustered to bother with a minor detail like discretion. Giving his naked torso the once-over, she announced, “You’re working up other appetites. In me. Not that that could possibly interest you.”
“Wrong again,” Cal said bitterly. “That particular appetite never lets up, night or day.”
“But you’ve decided we shouldn’t do anything about it.”
“Marnie,” Cal exploded, “Kit exists and she doesn’t want you replacing her mother. You know that as well as I do. I had to back off!”
“Sex should never have been invented!”
Cal said an unprintable word, bringing his canoe around in a flurry of spray. “Nice meeting you, William. I bet you’ll find Toronto dull after Sandy Lake and make bloody sure the tents stay separate.”
William said with genuine amusement, “I wouldn’t dare do otherwise. When are you two going to figure out that you’re in love with each other?” Then, with a cherubic smile, he did a vigorous forward stroke and sailed past Cal.
“We are not!” Marnie choked, and dug her paddle into the water with vicious strength.
If Cal said anything in reply, she didn’t hear it. But the image of his dark-pelted chest and narrow hips had burned itself into her brain, and a nasty combination of physical longing and sheer misery kept her awake for a long time after darkness fell. Kit was avoiding her like the plague; Cal desired her yet wished her a million miles away. No wonder she was turning into an insomniac.
But William was wrong. She wasn’t in love with Cal. Or he with her.
By eight-thirty the next morning, feeling grumpy and heavy-eyed, Marnie was in the stern of her canoe attempting to show William, who was in the water, how to get back into the boat. His attempts made the canoe rock and sway. “If you dump me,” she said, “I’ll never let you hear the last of it—not like that, William!”
“Marnie!”
Marnie’s head slewed around; it was Cal’s voice, raw with urgency. With a jar to her nerves, she saw him standing on the beach, breathing hard as though he’d been running. He was wearing the same blue shorts he’d had on last night. She said sharply, “Let go, William,” and raced her canoe to shore, jumping out into the shallows and hauling the bow up on the sand. “What’s wrong?”
Cal said in a strained voice, “When I woke up this morning, I found a note from Kit saying she’d gone to climb the cliff back of the campsites, so I went over there as fast as I could. She’s got herself stuck halfway up. She can’t go up or down and there’s no one else there. You’ve got to help her, Marnie.”
Kit in danger. Marnie’s heart gave a great thud in her chest and for a moment her throat closed with terror. “Two seconds,” she gasped, then hurried to her tent. She dragged on shorts and a T-shirt over her bikini, thrust her feet into sneakers and grabbed her climbing bag. Then she backed out of the tent. “Let’s go.”
The two of them ran down the path, taking the narrow trail that led to the cliff, Cal in the lead. He was setting a killing pace; she wasn’t sure she’d ever forget the look on his face when he told her about Kit’s predicament.
Nothing must happen to Kit. Nothing.
There was a boggy area at the base of the cliff, where rhodora bloomed in purple profusion and mosquitoes bred in equal profusion. Marnie saw Kit immediately. The girl had sensibly tackled the easiest slope but had run into difficulties near an overhang and lacked the skills to go either forward or backward. She was now splayed against the rock in a position that put maximum strain on her arms and hands.
If she fell, she could do herself a lot of damage.
She’s not going to fall. I won’t let her.
Marnie bent to put on her climbing shoes. “Don’t worry, Cal, I’ll get her down from there in no time.”
He said hoarsely, “I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to her. She’s the one who wanted us to camp at this end of the lake—we usually go near the stillwater. She must’ve planned this all along. I was just too stupid to catch on.”
Marnie stuck her bare foot into her second shoe. “She’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Last Wednesday,” he went on in the same hoarse voice, “the way I felt with you in bed—it was earth-shattering, turned my whole world upside down. Scared the hell out of me. So I backed off. Yeah, it had a lot to do with Kit. But it had to do with me, as well. Being terrified of losing you if once I gave in to the way you make me feel. Just like I’m terrified of losing Kit right now.”
Marnie straightened. She couldn’t begin to take in what he’d just said, not when she needed all her focus on the job at hand. “We can’t talk about it now,” she said tightly. “I have to get Kit down as quickly as I can.” It was one thing to tackle a climb on her own; quite another to rescue her own daughter. She turned her back on him, forcing herself to assess the rock face for the best route.
“Aren’t you going to take any ropes?”
“No need.”
“What if you fall?”
“Cal, I won’t fall and neither will Kit. Trust me.” Which was an all-important statement if ever there was one, she thought, and deliberately put Cal out of her mind.
Having made a decision about her route, Marnie started to climb, continually searching for holds, her body moving with confidence and a kind of elegance up the granite slope, almost as though she were an extension of the rock, a creature whose natural element was granite.
When she was within easy earshot of Kit, she called, “Hang in there—another few minutes.”
Kit said nothing.
Marnie brought herself level with the girl, then traversed toward her along a ledge, crossing one foot behind the other. She smiled at Kit, who looked very relieved to see her and thoroughly ashamed of herself. Marnie said, “If you only had that one lesson, you did well to get as far as this.”
Kit looked startled; plainly she’d expected a scolding. “But I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Probably not, especially on your own. It’s only the past couple of years I’ve started to go solo. For starters, how about if you take a little rest?”
“My arms are aching,” Kit said in a rush. “And my fingers hurt.”
“That’s because you’re putting too much strain on them. Transfer all your weight to your left foot and really dig it into the rock. That way it’ll stick. And keep your heel down—it’s easier on your leg muscles that way. Bring your other foot up to that little ledge…feel it? You’re doing great.” Kit did as she was told, her face intent in a way Marnie found heartening. In the same easy voice, Marnie said, “Now bring your hands down one by one to the same crack I’m holding…got that? And last of all, move your hips away from the rock—that way you’re balanced over your feet and legs.”
As Kit awkwardly obeyed her, her expression changed. “Wow,” she said, “what a difference—I can really feel it!”
Marnie laughed. “You’re a natural. But you were making a common mistake for beginners—not letting your legs bear most of the weight. Hauling yourself up by your arms defeats the strongest of climbers.”
Kit looked over at Marnie, studying her stance. “Your hands are down low,” she said. “Mine were way over my head.”
“Low works much better. Helps me to remember to look down for holds. Not up.”
“I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“You think I haven’t?” Marnie grinned. “Feeling better? Ready to head back down?”
“Yeah,” Kit said. “Will you keep on showing me what to do? It’s cool.”
“Of course I will.”
Suiting her actions to her words, Marnie began a series of calm-voiced directions, always keeping level with Kit as she pointed out possible holds, insistent that the girl keep her body in balance over the rock. When they took another short rest about halfway down, Kit said humbly, “I’m not nearly as tired as I was—I was making some pretty dumb moves.”
“But you’re willing to learn from your mistakes. Which is probably one of the most valuable assets any climber can have.”
Kit shifted her fingers, pressing her palm into the rock face as Marnie had shown her. Then she said very fast, looking straight at Marnie, “I’ve been a real jerk since I met you…I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Kit,” Marnie said helplessly.
“You’re neat,” Kit said. “Real neat. C’n we start over?”
“We sure can,” Marnie said. “I’d like that.”
Kit gave her a dazzling smile. “Great! Now we’d better get down before Dad has a heart attack.”
Marnie laughed. “Right on. Why don’t you see if you can find the next toehold yourself?”
Frowning in concentration, obviously going over in her head everything Marnie had told her, Kit did a creditable job with her next holds. The slope was leveling out; nevertheless, Marnie was pleased to see that Kit didn’t rush the last few feet. Finally, they were both standing on flat ground. Kit turned around to face her father. “Sorry, Dad,” she said.
In a cracked voice, Cal said, “You’re safe,” and took her in his arms.
He was white about the mouth. Considering his phobia for heights, Marnie knew it must have been torture for him to watch the two of them inching down the slope. Then Kit raised her head. “Dad,” the girl said, “I want to take climbing lessons.”
“Oh, God,” Cal groaned.
“With Marnie, if she wants to,” Kit said, her brown eyes full of pleading as she looked over her shoulder at the woman watching them.
“I’d love to teach you,” Marnie said truthfully. “But it’s up to your father.”
Cal took a long breath and exhaled it, moving his shoulders to rid them of tension. He looked down at his daughter. “You liked that? Being stuck halfway up a cliff? Clawing your way down by your fingernails?”
“I didn’t like being stuck and not knowing what to do. But Marnie showed me such a lot. It’s cool, Dad. Awesome. Better than basketball.”
Cal swallowed. “If you really want to, I guess you can.”
Kit squeezed him hard, giving a whoop of pleasure. Then she wriggled free of his embrace and walked over to Marnie. Standing tall, she said seriously, “Thank you, Marnie.”
Instinctively, Marnie knew what to do. As she held out her arms, Kit walked into them. Marnie dropped her cheek onto Kit’s bright curls and closed her eyes, knowing she’d longed for this moment for nearly thirteen years, all the while never believing it could possibly happen.
By unspoken consent a few moments later, they released each other. Kit gave Marnie a wobbly smile. “When’s the first lesson?”
Marnie began, “For your father’s sake, maybe we should wait until…” Then her voice broke. Suddenly, it was all too much. The young girl who was her beloved daughter, with whom she was now truly reunited, and the tall, dark-haired man who for one glorious night had been her lover: both of them watching her in a sunlit clearing at the base of a granite cliff. Marnie sat down hard on a clump of blueberries, put her head on her knees and started to weep as though her heart was breaking, sobs tearing their way from her throat, her whole body shuddering with an uprush of emotion impossible to quell.
From a long way away, she heard Kit’s distressed question and Cal’s deep-voiced response. Then she felt him kneeling beside her, his arm going around her shoulders. She buried her face in his chest, all the tears that had been pent up for years streaming down her face and dripping onto her bare legs.
Gradually, more from exhaustion than anything else, she quietened. Cal said gently, “Here, Kit had a couple of tissues in her pocket. Not used, she assures me, although they aren’t what you’d call squeaky clean.”
Marnie blew her nose, scrubbed at her face with her hands, also dirty from the climb, and finally looked up. “I’m s-sorry,” she hiccuped, “I had no idea that was g-going to happen.”
With adolescent awkwardness, Kit crouched beside her, her face a study in conflicting emotions. “You really do care about me, don’t you? Or you wouldn’t have cried like that.”
“Of course I do,” Marnie gulped. “It broke my heart to lose you so long ago. And to have found you again…. I’ve got to stop b-bawling my head off, it’s nuts. Tell me to stop, Cal.”
His face was very close to hers, so close she could have traced the cleft in his chin or drowned in the gray blue depths of his eyes. “Stop crying, Marnie,” he said huskily. “And that’s an order.”
“You know how I f-feel about orders.” She dragged her gaze away from him and produced a semblance of a smile for Kit. “My mother was the original sergeant major.”
Kit said impulsively, “I do believe you about your mum. I know now that you didn’t abandon me.”
Again Marnie’s vision blurred with tears. “Thanks,” she whispered. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Cal swatted at a mosquito. “We don’t have any bubble gum ice cream at the campsite, but we do have a couple of bags of chips. Why don’t we go back and celebrate?”
“I should tell William that Kit’s safe,” Marnie mumbled. She felt tired out, calm and deeply happy all at the one time. Her daughter had been restored to her, righting an old and bitter wrong. Maybe, she thought dimly, she would now find it within herself to forgive her mother.
“We’ll tell him first,” Cal said, and lifted Marnie to her feet.
For a moment, she swayed against him, the touch of his hands and the closeness of his big body both working their usual magic. Maybe she and Cal would work out, too, now that the barriers between Kit and herself had fallen, she thought in a surge of optimism. With a lilt in her voice, she said, “I hope they’re not just regular chips.”
Kit giggled. “Spicy ketchup and dill.”
“Lead me to them.”
On the way back, they met Christine, Don and William, who’d been looking for them to find out what happened. Cal explained, then said, “We’re going back to our campsite for lunch.”
“Good,” Christine said, and winked at Marnie.
“I’m going to give Kit rock-climbing lessons,” Marnie said with an innocent smile. “See you later.”
At the end of the trail, the others veered right, while she, Cal and Kit turned left. Kit said, “Do we still have to go home today, Dad?”
Marnie’s heart gave an uncomfortable lurch; she’d taken it for granted that Cal and Kit would be staying until tomorrow, and that she’d have time to enjoy Kit’s presence in a way totally new to her. Cal said, “Yeah…I’m going to Uganda tomorrow, Marnie, a consultation for an irrigation system. But I should be back by the middle of next week.”
“I’m staying at Lizzie’s,” Kit said. “If we weren’t leaving today, I could have a lesson with Marnie tomorrow.”
Marnie stopped dead, a spruce bough brushing her bare arm. “Cal, Kit could stay with us at our campsite. I’d deliver her to Lizzie’s tomorrow. If she wants to, and if you trust me with her.”
Her mouth dry, she waited for his response. If he said yes, he was acknowledging her place in Kit’s life as the girl’s mother; accepting that she was indeed trustworthy. A huge step, she thought, panic-stricken, wishing she hadn’t asked, her heart banging against her ribs as she waited for him to say something. Anything.
He was staring at her, his expression unfathomable. Kit looked from one to the other and in a small voice said, “I’d like that, Dad.”
Cal said slowly, “I’d trust you with Kit, Marnie. Of course I would.”
Through an uprush of joy, Marnie heard Kit squeal, “You mean it’s all right? That means we can have our first lesson, Marnie.”
“At least I won’t be around to watch,” Cal said. He’d meant it as a joke, Marnie was sure; yet there was an undertone in his voice that put all her senses on alert. Later, she thought, I’ll ask him about it later.
“There’s one condition, Kit,” she said. “That we stop at the first ice-cream stand on the way home.”
“My favorite’s cherry swirl,” Kit said promptly.
Marnie’s lashes flickered as she remembered the initial tempestuous meeting between herself and Cal. “You can have a double,” she said.
Cal’s campsite was on a small beach, the cedar canoe drawn up on the sand. After they’d demolished a bag of chips and a bottle of ginger ale, Kit said, “I’m going for a swim. Coming, you two?”
“I’ll pass,” Marnie said. “I feel wiped—too much emotion, I guess.”
“I’ll keep Marnie company,” Cal said with a casualness that didn’t quite ring true, and again Marnie felt that shiver of unease.
Kit disappeared into the tent, reappearing in a businesslike maillot. She dashed into the water, swimming out in a strong crawl. “She’s very athletic,” Marnie said, needing to break a silence that was getting on her nerves.
“Ever since she talked about blaming me for Jennifer’s death, we’ve been getting along really well,” Cal said, picking up a twig from the sand and shredding it, his profile to Marnie as he gazed out at the lake. “So I figured I was okay to go overseas this week, where it’s just a short trip. I need to get away, Marnie. Today, watching the two of you on that cliff—I can’t tell you how hard that was.”
“Try,” she said.
“I expected any minute for the two of you to fall. To be killed in front of my eyes.” He was frowning, his jaw an unyielding line. “I could tell you’re a good climber just by watching you—but this isn’t about logic, it’s about feelings. I thought I knew all about feelings after Jennifer’s death. What I’m starting to understand is that I had no choice back then—I had to be with her step by step of the way. But with you, I do have a choice. I can get involved. Or I can back off.”
With sudden violence, he snapped the twig into two separate pieces. “I’m like Kit, stuck somewhere. Halfway up a cliff. Not able to go up or down.”
“Maybe you need to let me come and rescue you,” Marnie said, watching a handful of sand trickle through her fingers.
“I’m not sure I can do that. What if I lost you like I lost Jennifer? I couldn’t stand it.”
So what was she supposed to say? That life is full of risk? That if nothing’s ventured, nothing’s gained? All the old clichés that were nevertheless full of truth, Marnie thought, and watched the tiny grains filter between her fingertips.
“Maybe if I go away, I’ll figure it out,” Cal said.
“I don’t understand,” Marnie said carefully. “Are you saying I’m important to you—other than as Kit’s mother, that is?”
For the first time, he turned to look at her. “Well, of course you are.”
“Of course?” she said, raising her brows. “I’m not a mind reader, Cal. And your face does inscrutable like a pro.”
“We made love, Marnie! I keep telling you that.”
“But you haven’t touched me ever since!”
“How could I when Kit didn’t want anything to do with you?”
Her temper rising, Marnie said, “As of an hour ago, Kit is no longer the issue.”
He was gazing out at the far shore of the lake again. “I thought I knew what love was, until you came along. I loved Jennifer, I told you that. But what I feel for you—it’s like a force of nature. Elemental. Unstoppable. Totally out of my control. Is that love, Marnie?”
“Why don’t we risk finding out?” Marnie muttered, picking up another handful of sand.
He grabbed her by the wrist. “Do you feel the same way?” he said roughly. “Or am I only imagining that you do?”
She stared at his fingers. “You tear me apart,” she said, “and you bring me such joy as I’ve never known.”
She could feel the breeze teasing her hair; the sunlight lay like a sheen on her face.
Cal raised her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one. “You tear me apart, too,” he said. “Tear to shreds the man I thought I knew. I’m the one who had to go overseas because my marriage was too confining. With Jennifer, I was always the strong one. There was a lot she didn’t want to know—we had a huge fight after that magazine article because I hadn’t told her how dangerous it could get. But you’re different. You want me to be myself. No masks. The real man. I can tell you anything and everything, you said.”
As if it were scalding him, he dropped her hand. “Let me tell you this much. I can hardly bear to think of you going up the side of a cliff or taking a canoe through the rapids. So I guess I’m the one who’s a coward.”
That Cal was exposing his vulnerabilities to her made him far from a coward. Marnie said forthrightly, “I won’t stop climbing. Not for you or anyone else.”
“I’d never ask you to.”
“I’d never ask you to stay home from Uganda, either. Or Ghana, or the Sudan. Even though I’d worry about you dreadfully.”
“I was seven when my mum and dad died,” he said moodily. “I waved goodbye to them at the airport and I never saw them again. They didn’t even find the bodies. And it was just five weeks from the time of Jennifer’s diagnosis to her death.”
“You can’t live in the past, Cal—even though it’s scarred you,” Marnie said passionately. “Right this minute I’m alive, sitting beside you. What else is there but that? And you want me, I know you do.”
“Want, darling Marnie, is a totally inadequate word for the way I feel about you,” he said with an ironic twist of his mouth. He took her chin gently in his fingers. “Here’s a loaded question. Would you have another child? My child?”
“What?”
“You heard.”
She gave a breathless laugh. “Yes.”
“Even after all the pain Kit’s birth brought you?”
Color staining her cheeks, Marnie said, “I’d love to bear your child, Cal.”
“You’re so brave and beautiful,” he said. A smile lightened his features. “And I don’t just mean your red hair.”
“Auburn.”
He held a strand full in the sun. “The color of fire.”
“I’ll miss you next week,” she said with desperate truth.
“I’m probably every kind of a fool not to be proposing to you right now,” he said. “Will you wait for me, Marnie? Wait until I come back? Because my gut’s telling me I need to get away, even though I don’t have a clue why.”
“I’ll wait,” she said.
“Maybe you could meet me at the airport. It’s an evening flight, a week from Wednesday.”
“It sounds like forever,” Marnie said, and felt his smile go right through her, making her whole body ache with desire.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said thickly. “We’ve got a chaperon, remember? Your daughter and mine.”
Somehow she knew this conversation was over, that Cal had said what he’d needed to say. “Lunch,” she announced. “Why don’t we get some lunch?”
They ate on the beach. After Kit had packed up her gear and Cal had everything else ready to load into his canoe, they walked to Marnie’s campsite. Cal said goodbye to Kit. Then, while Kit was setting up her sleeping bag next to Marnie’s in the tent, Cal drew Marnie back into the shelter of the trees and kissed her with such passionate single-mindedness that Marnie was trembling when he released her. He’d kissed her as though he’d never see her again, she thought with an inward shiver, but didn’t share this conclusion with him.
“I’ll see you at the airport,” she said. “I’ll paint my toenails purple.”
“Right now I wish I wasn’t going anywhere,” he muttered, and kissed her again, his tongue laving hers, his hands roaming the length of her spine.
She wanted to throw him down on the ground and jump him. “Let me know your flight time,” Marnie said faintly.
“I’ll tell Andrea—that’s Lizzie’s mother—about the climbing lessons. Take care of yourself, won’t you? I know you’ll take care of Kit.”
“Thank you for leaving her with me.”
“Who better to leave her with? Bye, Marnie.”
One last kiss and he was striding along the path as though he was being pursued. The forest swallowed him, the soft swishing of the evergreens smothering the sound of his footsteps. Marnie bit her lip to keep herself from calling him back. Ten days wasn’t long, she thought stoutly. And she’d have Kit for company until tomorrow afternoon and again next weekend.
A month and a half ago, the prospect of being reunited with her daughter would have been happiness enough. Certainly what had happened today had made her marvelously happy and fulfilled, healing so many of the old wounds. But she wanted more. Along with Kit, she wanted Kit’s father.
Who had, more or less, told her that he loved her. Hadn’t he?