Fifteen

Water thundered over the stair-step rocks. The spray above Middle Gooseberry Falls split sunlight into a halo of color. Sitting next to Seth on a hardened lava flow below the falls, April skimmed her bare heels along the surface of the icy water then pulled her feet back to the sun-warmed rock.

“You’re doing that like a girl.” With both feet submerged, Seth talked through gritted teeth. “Just stick ’em in all at once.” He gestured toward Yvonne’s fiancé, Kirk, sitting beside him, feet also under water.

“And look as miserable as you two do just to prove I’m tough? No thanks.”

Yvonne shook her platinum curls. “You guys have more pride in your little toes than we have in our whole bodies.”

With a painful gasp, Kirk yanked his feet out of the water. A split second later, Seth copied his move. Both men writhed, accompanied by female laughter. Kirk reached out for Yvonne’s hand. “I concede. You’re a better man than I am, Seth. Come on, woman, help me walk some circulation into my legs.”

As Seth lay back on his elbows, a look of triumph mixed with pain on his face, April rested her bare feet on his.

“Ah. . .heat. Thank you.” He lifted his sunglasses. In the bright light, his eyes took on a bronze tinge.

The warmth soaking through the back of her North Face polo was now met by the heat sparked by those bronze eyes. Suddenly her feet on his seemed way too intimate. She shifted and copied his posture, resting back on her elbows. Nearer than she’d calculated. Not touching but close enough to smell that musky, earthy aftershave.

A herring gull scudded to a stop several yards away, lifted its head, and called into the air. Seth’s little toe touched hers. “Perfect day,” he whispered.

“Mm-hm.”

It seemed the ideal setting to tell him the news that had been percolating in her head since Friday night. The news that had stolen her sleep and filled half a notebook with heady, adrenaline-driven ideas.

“You won’t believe who called me the other night.”

Seth rolled his fleece jacket into a ball and used it for a pillow, stretching out on the flat rock. “Who?” His voice sounded sleepy.

“Brenda.”

Bolting to a sitting position, he whipped off his sunglasses. “Brenda. . .who?”

Your Brenda. No, he wouldn’t find that amusing. “Brenda Cadwell.”

“She called you? Why?” Suspicion dripped from his words.

April grinned. “To offer me a job.”

❧

How could five little words turn a perfect day into a nightmare? He’d been lying there, more relaxed than he’d felt in months, stringing words together in his head—words that would describe his growing feelings for the woman with the honey blond hair who was so close to him he could smell the spicy, touch-of-vanilla scent of her.

And then she’d smacked him with a name that he was within weeks of never having to hear again.

She was effervescing before his eyes. Glowing like Sirius on a clear night. Her warm, lush radio voice painted the vision as detailed as an oil painting. A prime-time spot on a cable station three hours from Pine Bluff. She couldn’t tell him what station, what town. The details were all being worked out. Her own talk show. Huh. . .where had Brenda gotten that idea? A Christian show on a secular station. What were the chances? April asked.

Behind his back, Seth’s fist clenched on the green-tinged rock. Slim to none. Whatever Brenda Cadwell had up her sleeve, it wasn’t good.

“It’ll be an hour-long show, five days a week, to start with.” April’s fingers knit her hands into a ball. “And I get to pick the guests. Pretty much carte blanche, it sounds like.”

“Hm. Where’d she get the idea for the format?”

Confusion wrinkled her forehead. He wanted to kiss it away, wanted to kiss away the last five minutes.

“She got the idea from you.”

She certainly did. “She told you that?”

“Yes. She said you told her that I’d always dreamed of being a television talk show host. To be honest, it made me mad at first. I shared that with you in confidence.”

Seth opened his mouth to defend himself, but she held up her hand.

“But then I realized that you’d told her about it because she’s got the right connections. She’s somebody who could make my dream come true.”

Her eyes held his for a long moment. “I know the distance is an issue, but I’d be back here every weekend.”

“When would you start?” His voice was as flat as his mood.

“In two weeks.”

“Kind of soon.”

“Well, it wouldn’t air for another six weeks or so. I’d start out just lining up guests and working on promotion.”

“And they’d pay you for that part?”

Her hands separated. She rubbed her palms on her knees. “I. . .assume so.”

“What’s your starting salary?”

“She couldn’t say yet, just promised I’d have no complaints.”

Promised. Brenda’s promise. . .now there was an oxymoron if he’d ever heard one. “When is your interview scheduled?”

She recoiled, just a fraction of an inch. “That was. . .my interview. . .on the phone.”

“Oh. Don’t you need to talk to a manager?”

“Brenda is. . .in charge of hiring.”

“She is, huh?”

❧

Yvonne walked over and pointed at her watch. “Time to move on.”

April nodded. Keeping the group on schedule was supposed to be her job. She picked up a sock, grateful for a reprieve from Seth’s cross-examination. What was wrong with the man? Of course, she wanted him to express some sadness, but he seemed far more angry than sad. He knew how much this meant to her, didn’t he? His barrage of questions was insulting. Didn’t he know her well enough to know that she’d check it out carefully before accepting? The KOEK Web site said they were actively working to expand their programming and give the station a fresh, new image. She was going to be part of that new image.

Turning away from him, she used her purple bandana to dry between her toes and then slipped on her white liner socks. She yanked at the shoestrings of her dusty gray Raichle boots. Too tight. After tying them right, she stuffed her jacket in her day pack. As she zipped the pocket shut, Seth’s hand jutted into the space between her and her walking stick. He blocked the sun, but the look on his face would suffice for sunlight. “Let’s enjoy the day, okay?”

“Okay.” Like a trained puppy, she held her hand out to him. It was becoming easier and easier to let his offenses slide. Was that a good or a bad thing? With her hand in his, she couldn’t decide.

The seven of them scrambled across slippery rocks, climbed the outcroppings above the falls, and ended back on the shaded trail. April took the lead, with Seth right behind her, singing “Happy Trails.” He’d rallied, but his mood still wasn’t where it had been before she’d brought up the job offer. A few weeks ago, her response to his negativity would have been a cold shoulder, but she was learning to put a leash on her emotions, to let things play out. The more it sank in that the males of the species processed conflict in a whole different way, the more she was willing to think before she acted. And little by little, she was beginning to accept that not all—probably not most—men had hair triggers like her father.

So what part of her news had set him off? The mention of Brenda’s name? After three years, was the hurt still that fresh? Or was it that he still had feelings for her? They’d been a day away from the altar, after all.

The thoughts got shoved aside as she picked her way across a shallow spot in the Gooseberry, jabbing the end of her pole into the river-smoothed pebbles. Seth had switched to “The Happy Wanderer,” and the rest of the group joined in. Yvonne’s clear, sweet soprano carried the melody. April added her so-so voice to the mix—“Val-deri, Val-dera”—glad there was no one in front of her to offend. It kept her mind off Seth’s strange behavior until the last line. “Oh, may I always laugh and sing”. . . . Something about it hit her strangely. Maybe it was the word “always.” Had she made it clear enough to Seth that she had no intention of letting this job interfere with their relationship, that her weekends would belong to him?

If it wouldn’t cause a seven-hiker pileup, she’d stop right there in the middle of the trail and wrap her arms around him, whispering things for his ears only. This won’t change what’s starting between us. If it’s God’s will, we’ll make it work. We’ll find time to be together. I promise I won’t put my career ahead of you.

She stumbled on a tree root, caught her balance again. Was that true? If he asked her not to take the job, to stay at KPOG forever just to be close to him, would she? Should she?

A rustling sound up ahead stopped her. She held her hand over her head and heard footsteps halt. Two whitetail deer stepped into the path, looked at her, then went back to the thick grass on the side of the trail. Stealthily, Seth’s arms wrapped around her from behind. His warm breath tickled her ear.

“I’m sorry. I’m really happy for you.” His lips grazed her cheek. “It’ll all work out.”

❧

Did he really believe any of what he’d just said? Seth’s eyes tracked the doe and her yearling, but his mind was on the wisps of sun-kissed hair tickling his cheek. The paradox between the setting and his emotions spun his world off kilter. The rush of water over rocks in the distance, the dappled pattern created by sunlight filtering through the leaves, the smell of her hair, the camaraderie of a day with other believers. . .all clashed now with the havoc in his mind.

What was Brenda up to? He was so close to breaking all ties with her. Was this her parting shot? She wasn’t happy, so she’d see to it that he wasn’t either?

Behind him, Yvonne sneezed. The doe startled and skittered into the trees, her little one right behind her, taking with them his excuse for standing in the middle of the trail with his arms draped around the woman with golden hair. As they followed the trail east toward the lake, Seth went back to his brooding. Trying to make sense of Brenda Cadwell wasn’t the best use of his brainpower, but he couldn’t let it go. If he could figure out her motive, he’d know what to do. There was no way he was going to sit by idly and watch April get hurt.

He examined the possibilities as they came to him. Brenda had done some consulting work for television and radio stations over the years—“vision creating,” as she called it. So maybe that’s what this was. Maybe.

One thing he was certain of—she wasn’t doing it altruistically to advance the career of the new love interest of the guy who dumped her at the altar. But she could be opening doors for April in hopes that other doors would slam in Seth’s face.

It boiled down to two theories: She was either doing it to advance her own career. . .or to hurt him. And yet, it might still be the best thing for April. Until he knew more, he’d be the encourager she needed him to be.

❧

“I’m. . .happy for you.”

April stared at Jill’s pitiful attempt at a smile. Would everyone she told say those same words with equal fakeness? When she’d given her notice for the apartment, Sydney’s enthusiasm had been just as artificial as Jill’s. Yvonne, thankfully, hadn’t even pretended to be happy for her. “Thank you.”

“Your listeners will miss you. I’ll miss you.” Jill’s usually perfect posture rounded to the curve of her chair. “You’re building up quite a fan base in this little town, you know. People feel like you connect with them—and connect them to each other.” Her red-nailed hand pressed against her black blouse. “You get to the heart, April.”

Tears constricted April’s throat. “Is this just you being weirdly emotional, or is this you doing your guilt-tripping manager job?”

“Both. I know I’ve always said I wanted to see you living up to your potential. Selfishly, I just hoped it would be right here. Have you prayed about this, long and hard?”

“Yes.” The ghost of a doubt floated through her consciousness, but she shooed it away. She had spent much of the past week thanking God for opening this door and asking Him to help her put together a show that would honor Him and touch lives. She’d prayed her way through her tour of KOEK, through every word in the contract before she’d signed it. And yet, second thoughts had hovered for days. But that was normal. Anyone making changes this big would have a few doubts.

“Well then, I guess, like Scuffy the tugboat, you were meant for bigger things, and the rest of us will just have to live without you.” Jill pulled a tissue from a carved black dispenser and blew her nose. “I’ll get to work finding someone to fill your slot. I’m not going to say replacement, because I don’t think we’ll find anyone to do that.”

❧

“Oh, baby, I’m so happy for you.”

April pulled the phone away and stared at it before resting it back on her ear. Finally, a voice that actually matched the words. But from the strangest source. She closed her office door. “Thanks, Mom.”

“It’s what you’ve always wanted. My little girl, a TV talk show host! Wait till I tell my friends.”

Friends? Was the woman whose words were bouncing off a satellite and into her office really her mother? “It’s just a cable station. Not national syndication.”

“But it’s a start. And you’ll have your weekends free so you can spend some time with me.”

More guilt. April stared at the Itasca State Park wallpaper beneath the icons on her desktop. She didn’t even remember telling her mother what her new hours would be. “Sure. . .some of the time. I’ll be coming back here a lot.”

Silence. A tight-sounding inhale. “It’s a long drive from wher. . .ever you’re going.”

“I know.” Only too well. Three hours hadn’t seemed like much until she’d told Seth about the job offer. Six hours of driving every week. Would that get old? Would he get tired of only seeing her on weekends? Would she?

“Don’t expect that man to wait around for you while you figure out your life.” A tired sigh. “They never do.”