The rich odor of freshly brewed coffee met them in the kitchen doorway. Logan's eyes centered first on Karena, her face scrubbed clean, the golden skin as innocently shining and flushed as a child's, her jeans and white peasant blouse both crisply fresh on her lithe form. She was standing at the counter, lifting down mugs and putting them on a wooden tray.
"Have you had supper?" she asked, turning toward him, and he nodded, smiling at her transformation to conscientious hostess.
"I ate in Bemidji, with Betsy and Cliff and the kids."
Looking at her, being this close to her, he felt a renewed certainty about his feelings. She was honestly lovely, just as he remembered her to be, and when he could tear his eyes from her and take in the details of her home, he knew almost immediately that it suited her well. It was simple and strongly made and classically beautiful, just as Karena was.
The cabin was built of thick logs, and the door Danny had led him through opened directly into a kitchen whose interior walls were natural plain dark logs, but Karena had added homey touches that made everything bright and comfortably cheerful. Starched yellow curtains hung at the two deep windows, and the same material had been used to skirt the long row of cupboards against the wall to his left. Green and flowering plants in painted white and yellow pots flourished everywhere, on the windowsills and trailing down from hooks in the high-beamed ceiling. The floor was polished pine, and braided rag rugs covered large portions of it. The delightful odor of natural wood and freshly brewed coffee filled his nostrils pleasantly.
But what drew Logan's attention were the unframed half dozen or so charcoal and pen-and-ink studies of birds, deer, squirrels and—Logan had to smile—wonderful sketches of an endearing baby moose, all tacked haphazardly on the walls.
"These are yours," he stated, and she nodded, becoming very busy with cups and spoons and napkins as Logan moved from one to the other, studying them intently. He knew little about art, but anyone could see that the animals depicted were more than faithful, nearly photographic reproductions of wildlife creatures; the intricate detail was there, all right, but there was also a haunting quality in the expressions Karena had depicted, especially in the studies of Mort.
In the little moose's eyes, in the expression on his face, there was a subtly wild, free challenge that was at the same time sadly tragic, as if the moose calf had some inkling of its own predicament, staring out from the paper to confront man, his most dangerous enemy, his dearest friend.
"Mom's good, isn't she?" Danny demanded proudly.
Logan said softly, "I have a feeling she's better than just good, Danny. These are quite unusual."
"Come out to the porch, you two, and we'll have coffee."
It made Karena uncomfortable, having Logan study her drawings so closely. They were intensely personal, and therefore she had no way of judging them through another's eyes. Half of her wanted to share this private part of herself with Logan, but the ingrained patterns of privacy and solitude were hard to break so quickly. It would take time, perhaps a lot of time, before she felt entirely comfortable having him look at her work.
Carrying the loaded tray, she led the way through the large area she and Danny simply labeled the front room, and again Logan studied the cheerful, comfy cottage appreciatively.
They filed out onto the screened, long porch that stretched the entire length of the house's width. Here, too, were plants and homeyness, but here the impressions were inextricably mixed with the outdoors, a fresh breeze rustling the leaves of the trees overhead, the sound of birds, the far off lapping of the lake waters coming in the screens.
Logan was struck by how well the place suited the silverblond woman who'd obviously put so much of herself into her home. She'd planted roots here that must penetrate deep, creating a place of simple, comfortable beauty for herself and her son. There was nothing impermanent about Karena's home.
Danny threw himself down on a couch, sending it lurching several feet backward, making Karena wince and roll her eyes. Logan strategically chose an armchair for himself close to Karena's chair.
"So how come you're here, Logan? How long can you stay?" Danny demanded, ignoring Karena's squelching look.
She poured coffee, then offered what was left of the chocolate cake pointedly to Logan before allowing Danny to snare the last piece, aware all the while that she was waiting for his answer just as eagerly as Danny was.
"I volunteered to bring a group of students on a field trip to Itasca State Park for six weeks, starting Monday morning."
Six whole weeks. He'd be within driving distance until— she calculated swiftly—until the end of August.
"I decided to come and visit you two for a couple days before the students arrive, if that's all right with you. I'll stay in the motel in Northome."
He directed the explanation at Karena, but it was Danny who answered.
"Hey, that's crazy, you can stay here with us, Logan. You can sleep out here on our couch, it makes into a bed. Right, Mom? And we can go for a swim in the lake in the morning, and I'll take you up to meet Gabe."
"Thanks, Danny, but I don't think I'd better—"
He glanced over at Karena, and she met his questioning look with a wide, welcoming smile.
"Of course you'll stay here with us." She seconded Danny's invitation matter-of-factly, pushing to the back of her mind the predictable problems such an arrangement would undoubtedly cause when her father learned of it. She had few visitors, and she'd never had a male visitor before. It was inevitable that Otis would have plenty to say about it.
To heck with what Pop thought or said, she decided with uncharacteristic spirit. She was almost thirty, old enough to conduct her life her own way.
"Are you sure that's okay with you, Karena?" Logan needed her to tell him so in words, and she did, unhesitatingly.
"That's super," she affirmed, roguishly borrowing Danny's favorite expression, and suddenly she knew it would be super. "But the birds and squirrels will wake you up really early out here. That's if Danny lets you get any sleep at all."
One way or the other, Logan vowed silently, despite Danny's voice going on and on making plans for filling the next two days with activities, he'd find time to be alone with this woman, time to openly discuss his feelings with her, time to get to know her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so much they needed to find out about each other.
But for now, it was wonderfully pleasant to just sit close to her and drink huge mugs of the coffee she'd prepared for him, laugh with her at the irrepressible Danny and his wagging tongue and absorb the breathtaking beauty of her and of her woodland retreat as dusk settled, strewing the sky with trails of red and crimson, sending fiery reflections down to dance in the lake.
Several hours later, Karena lifted sweet smelling sheets and blankets, with which to make up Logan's bed, out of the cedar chest in her bedroom. He'd spent the evening more with Danny than with her, and she was glad, because it had given her time to get used to having him here.
She wrinkled her nose at that idea. Getting used to being around Logan wasn't remotely possible, because he roused far too many feelings and responses in her to allow for relaxation or familiarity this soon.
She took the linen out to the porch, shaking a feather pillow into its case, a smile tilting one corner of her mouth as she remembered making this pillow with her mother, when she was a little girl. They were living in a cabin, in a camp further north that year, and they'd raised the geese that supplied the feathers, plucked and cleaned them, sewn sturdy cases from heavy cotton ordered from the catalog and then stood on a still, hot autumn day in the backyard, laughing together, taking handfuls of down carefully from a sack and stuffing these pillows to exactly the right plumpness.
It roused feelings of nostalgia in Karena, remembering the comfortable closeness she'd had with her mother. Anna had been the only woman Karena had ever known intimately, and after Karena's husband died, the parent child relationship had changed to one of woman to woman friendship. They'd been able to ta|k to one another honestly, and Karena wished Anna were here now. It would be so good to talk over the confused emotions Logan raised in her, to see the situation through other, trusted eyes.
What would her mother think of Logan?
Karena's hands stilled momentarily. Anna's reactions would be colored by her experience. She had wanted more out of life for her daughter than she'd had for herself.
Anna had followed her husband's job, moving from one logging camp to the next over the years, raising her daughter, patiently turning each rough cabin into a home with her clever hands.
"You must have an education, my Kari," Anna had insisted stubbornly over and over through the early years, herding her small daughter back indoors to the hated correspondence lessons, insisting she be sent to the city to board when correspondence was no longer enough. "Only through book learning can you better yourself, become something more than just a logger's wife like me, living in the bush."
And Karena had answered passionately, every time, "But I don't want more, I love it here, this is what I want for my life."
"How can you know, when you have nothing with which to compare?" her mother would argue, exasperated. "You're too young to know, just as I was, and by the time you start to wonder, then it's too late."
They'd fought bitterly over her education, Karena and her mother, but the love between them had never faltered. So what would Anna think of Logan?
"He's a fine-looking man, just as your father was when he was that age," she'd probably say. "But make sure he knows how to laugh a little, Kari. Your father is too stern a man, not like Gabe Philips. Gabe now, he's not so goodlooking, but he knows how to laugh, that one."
Cautious, her mother would be, with that touch of bitterness that was sometimes present just under the surface of her accented speech, that hint that life hadn't quite fulfilled its promises to her.
Anna would have made a successful career woman, Karena mused, fluffing the handmade patchwork quilt over the neatly made bed. Danny had a great deal of his grandmother in him, that same insatiable urge for strange people and places, for excitement and change. And for education.
The idea of more education or a high-powered career made Karena shudder with dread. In that area, she and her mother had always been poles apart. The life Karena had was exactly the one she wanted; it was perfect. Except— She stilled her wayward thoughts, plumped the pillows up one last time and made her way into the kitchen.
Except she didn
'
t want to live her perfect life without a partner.
Chapter Six
"And right here, it says that moose got to North America in the first place by crossing the Bering Strait 175,000 years ago, walking out of the Ice Age. Isn't that something, Logan?"
Danny was reading out of his beloved wildlife encyclopedia. Soft yellow light spilled over the familiar room, over Danny's blond head and over Logan, making the strong lines of his face a field of light and shadow, creating a mystery of his eyes behind the reflecting lenses of his glasses.
"And here, it says moose grow faster than any other animal, see?"
Logan's eyes flicked up from the page as soon as Karena entered the room, drawn to her as if by radar, and he shot her a sweet, lazy smile that made a lump catch somewhere in her chest. Awareness of his presence grew in her.
He would be sleeping here tonight, only a room's distance from where she lay.
He would be here when she awoke in the morning.
There'd be time to talk with him.
It suddenly seemed like riches beyond measure, having him staying under her roof.
"Time for bed, Danny," she said a bit breathlessly, and her son made his usual dramatic protest.
But Logan said genially, "Goodnight, Dan."
There were no further delays.
"Would you like to walk down to the lake?" Karena asked. Her heart seemed to beat faster than normal around him. Better to be outside, she decided, where the night air was cool and there was darkness to hide the telltale flushing on her cheeks.
She rummaged under the curtain by her cupboards, finding the mosquito repellent and handing it to him.
"The bugs aren't quite as bad as usual this year, but you still should use a bit of this."
He nodded and smiled, rubbing the oily lotion on his arms and neck, then proferring the bottle to her.
"You?" he inquired, and she shook her head with a grin.
"Somewhere over the years, I became immune to mosquitoes. The blackflies bother me a bit in the spring, but that's it."
She led the way out the door, disturbingly aware of him, close behind her as she walked down the familiar path toward Mort's pen.
He was agonizingly aware of her slim back, her trim hips in their snug washed-out jeans, so close he could reach out a hand and...
"How long have you lived here, Karena?" His deep tones merged with the darkness. He wondered if the young husband she'd mentioned that day at Itasca had lived here with her, built the house.