Karena wished he would, too, but she didn't say so to Betsy. She didn't tell Betsy, either, that she'd called Logan's apartment in St. Paul repeatedly from the phones here in the hospital lobby, starting the morning after the rescue, with no success.
She longed to talk to him, to share the decisions she'd arrived at, to tell about Danny and ask his advice. Most of all, though, she just wanted to tell him she loved him.
Had she told him of her love during those terrible days of waiting back at her cabin? She couldn't remember. She remembered his strong arms around her, and how he'd reassured her. But what had she given back?
It seemed urgent that she talk now with Logan. She'd even broken down and phoned the college yesterday, but the laconic woman on the switchboard simply said that Professor Baxter hadn't been at work all week, and could she take a message?
"Is—is anything wrong with him, I mean, he's not sick, or—he didn't have an accident or—or something?" Karena asked fearfully.
The voice on the other end of the line grew a little warmer, and terribly coy. "Now, dear, I'm sure it's nothing like that. Professor Baxter phoned himself and said he wouldn't be in this week, but he'd be back for sure next. These bachelors, they're so unpredictable. Why don't you try again next Monday, dear?"
Feeling squelched and foolish and angry, Karena hung up.
Where could he be? The last thing he'd said was that he had to get back to work, she was sure of that. Uncertainty filled her. They'd spent a long time apart, over a month. The name Bernice Zimmer kept popping into her head. Maybe... she forced the doubts away fiercely.
Logan had said he'd come to see her this weekend. This weekend was tomorrow. She'd just have to wait another day.
She'd also tried to phone her father, but there was no answer at Otis's house in Northome either. Undoubtedly he was out at the cabin, taking care of the place for her.
She'd gained a new closeness with her father while Danny was lost. But now she felt irritated with Otis, too, because whether he hated hospitals or not, Danny was his only grandson, and surely he could have made an effort to drive in one day this past week and see him. Or he could have telephoned to see how he was doing.
All in all, she felt pretty disgruntled by all the men in her life.
Saturday crawled past and Logan still didn't appear.
Every time footsteps approached Danny's room that afternoon, Karena looked up with anticipation. But it was never him.
By suppertime, she was both anxious and edgy. Danny had been particularly glum all day, refusing her heroic offers to play Scrabble, which she despised, choosing instead to watch one mindless game show after another on television.
At last, she rebelled.
"Turn that thing off, Danny. I swear, if that's the sort of programming there is on television, we won't get one in Brainerd either."
"Aw, Ma." Danny had become whiny lately, as well as sullen. Rebelliously, he clicked the television to the local news channel instead of turning it off.
"On a lighter note to the news this evening," the announcer was saying. "You all remember the story of the misguided, amorous moose who fell in love with a cow up in Vermont? Well, it seems we have our own local moose story, but this one involves a moose rescue squad."
Danny gave a shrill scream of excitement.
"Mom, it's Mort. I don't believe it, it's Mort, Mom."
Karena gaped at the television, unable to believe it either. But there on the screen was Mort, and as they watched he ambled over and all but blotted out the screen, snuffling curiously at the camera, his big nose getting closer and closer. The cameraman moved back hastily, and now they could see Logan and Otis in the background, unshaven and generally disheveled, reluctantly answering questions put to them by the interviewer.
Yes, Logan admitted, they'd spent four days tramping through the bush to Dora Lake and back with Mortimer. Yes, he'd been raised in captivity and there was little chance he could survive the winter alone. A truck would be arriving any minute to take him to Michigan, where he'd be encouraged to return to the wilds as soon as he learned the skills he needed.
Did they have a tough time finding Mort up there in the wilderness?
Otis answered that. No trouble, he barked gruffly, his brows beetling together and an expression of absolute exasperation on his face. The damn fool moose found them, stupid animal came charging out of the bush and almost trampled them to death as soon as they called his name. Ate most of their grub that night while they were sleeping. Those folks up in Michigan were welcome to him, he only hoped they knew what they were getting, by jiminy.
The camera hastily panned to Mort again. He was sniffing ecstatically at the exhaust of a truck, down on his knees in utter blissful abandon.
The next picture showed Mort unsteadily clambering up the truck's ramp, obviously high on exhaust fumes, and the picture faded back to the announcers, laughing helplessly back in the newsroom.
Danny was crying and laughing both at once, huge fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Grampa went up there with Logan, Mom. I never thought Grampa would do that for Mort," Danny was saying through his sniffles. "That crazy Mort. Did ya see him sniffing that exhaust again? After all the times we tried to get him to stop. Did ya see that. Mom?"
Both of them started to laugh.
After awhile, Danny said thoughtfully, "I'm glad he'll have a chance to learn how to be wild at that place." And later still, he added, "I guess Mort and I sort of grew up together, didn't we, Mom?" He sighed dramatically. "I feel a lot older since when we got him. I'll always remember that moose, Mom. Do you think he'll remember me?"
There was wistfulness in her son's voice, but there was acceptance as well. Karena said softly, "I don't know, Danny. I think so."
Logan called her, at the Gardoms', late that evening.
"It's Uncle Logan, he wants to talk to Karena," Lizzie announced excitedly. "We saw you on the TV," she said into the receiver. "You had whiskers, you should have shaved first, Uncle Logan," she was lecturing sternly as Karena took the phone.
Logan was laughing when Karena put the receiver to her ear, his rumbling, good natured chuckle making her homesick for him.
"Hi," she said, and then shyness overcame her for some indefinable reason.
"Hi yourself, did you think I ought to have shaved first as well?"
"I think what you did was absolutely wonderful. Danny's been moping all week, and tonight after we saw you on TV he seemed his old self for the first time. Logan, I felt sick about Mort, I'm so relieved you found him. How did you ever talk my father into going with you after him?"
"Oh, it was mostly his own idea. He's pretty soft under that gruff exterior," Logan lied valiantly. Actually, it wasn't all that much of a lie. Otis did have a soft spot in him.
He just didn't have a soft spot for Mort. Logan wasn't particularly enamored of the half-grown moose either, after the past few days.
Mort was not your ideal traveling companion, that was certain.
"Actually, I'm staying in Northome with your dad tonight. We both need a bath and a good meal, and some sleep. I'd like to come and pick you up tomorrow morning, early. We've got a lot to talk about now that this is all over, Kari, and as usual there's not much time to be together. I'd better be back at St. Paul on Monday or I'll be looking for another job. I'll pick you up about eight, will that be okay? And wear warm clothing. Boots, hat, gloves."
Karena nodded, smiling into the phone.
Logan said anxiously, "Karena? Are you there?"
She said hastily, "That sounds great, Logan. I'll be ready."
Betsy had been pretending not to hear a word, but now she said quickly, "Ask him if he'll be here for breakfast."
"Logan? Betsy wants to know if you'll be here for breakfast." She winked at her friend. "I think she wants to have Cliff butcher a hog or something. Or kill the fatted calf. It's not everyone who has a television star for a brother."
Betsy flicked a tea towel at her. Karena grinned, but her face was puzzled when she hung up. "He says he'd love to stay for dinner tomorrow, but he's already got breakfast made."
The entire Gardom family as well as Karena were waiting the following morning at eight to greet Logan. Alexander catapulted himself at his uncle's legs, and even Lizzie forgot her newfound dignity and leapt at him for a hug. Nicole took one look from the safety of her mother's arms and began to scream, hiding her face in Betsy's neck.
In the turmoil created by a barking dog, screaming baby and excited children, as well as questions from the older Gardoms, there was no chance for a private greeting between Logan and Karena.
He looked ruggedly handsome in his down jacket, with his jeans tucked into the top of laced up boots. His glasses had fogged the moment he came into the warm kitchen, and he'd laid them on the counter. Soft dark curly hair tumbled over his forehead, and his gentle nearsighted gaze slid past all the Gardoms even as he embraced them, over to the place where Karena stood.
Everything in her seemed to melt at the intensity of those dark brown eyes on hers.
In that first instant, her doubts about him vanished. He loved her as intensely as she did him, it was obvious for anyone to see. And that was going to make everything she had to tell him more difficult.
"Good morning, Karena." How could such simple words hold so much meaning for her?
As soon as he could gracefully extricate them, they were on their way. There was a huge shopping bag resting on a plaid wool blanket in the back of the car, and several thermoses. They were going on a picnic to Itasca State Park.
"Come over here close to me, woman," Logan ordered. Karena moved gladly across the seat, snuggling close to his side.
The miles sped by, and soon they'd turned off the highway onto the park road. Logan was watching for a driveway.
He turned in, and Karena sat up straighter and peered around at the collection of wooden buildings. "Where are we? I thought we—Logan, this is only a summer lodge. The sign says it's closed till Memorial Day, next spring."
"There's a forestry cabin in behind the lodge, Brian Sutton stayed there last summer and he showed me where the key is kept. I've had enough of roughing it in the snow."
The lodge was deserted, and the tiny log cabin was away from the other buildings, nestled in a cluster of evergreens. Logan located the key, balanced on one of the corner posts, and opened the door.
The cabin was basically one large room, with a small area at the back partitioned off for bedroom, toilet and shower. Wooden tables and chairs stood under the window in the kitchen area, and there was a fireplace, with an immensebrown bear rug spread on the rough boards in front of it.
"I'll have a fire going in a minute," Logan promised.
"You get the things from the car, and I'll do the fire," Karena suggested. Wickedly, she added, "I'm better at lighting them than you are, you know."
There was paper and kindling and soon the fireplace was blazing and the tiny cabin grew warm and cozy. Logan had
been emptying his paper bags, and when Karena saw what he'd spread out on the red checked oilcloth that covered the table, she felt tears gather in her eyes even as a helpless giggle bubbled up in her throat.
There were sandwiches, the biggest, thickest sandwiches she'd laid eyes on since the picnic he'd made for her last summer. Just as then, there were probably fourteen more than two people could possibly eat, carefully, clumsily wrapped in Saran wrap, along with huge cinnamon rolls, and at least a dozen doughnuts. He'd opened a bottle of white wine, and there were small cans of orange juice and steaming cups of hot coffee poured from the thermos.
He shoved his glasses up with a distracted gesture that was achingly familiar and dear to her, and just as she knew he would, he frowned at the quantities of food and then grinned his wide, self satisfied grin.
"I guess there's enough stuff, don't you think?"
She wrapped her arms around him, burying her nose in the rich man smell of his flannel shirt, surprising him for an instant with her vehemence.
"Logan, you maniac," she choked between a laugh and a sob. "I love you, I—"
His mouth swallowed the rest of her words deliciously, and soon he started to explore the layers of clothing she wore.
The coffee grew cold in the mugs, but the bearskin rug was thick and warm.
Chapter Thirteen
"I meant to propose marriage before I seduced you on this bearskin rug." His chest rumbled under her ear, and she lay absolutely still.
The moment she dreaded was here.
He rolled her to her side and lay facing her, one hand catching her chin gently and holding it, making her look at him as he spoke.
"You do want to marry me, don't you, Kari?" He moved his head enough to kiss her lightly, drawing back again to cradle her body, one leg slung easily across her hips. She opened her mouth to say something, but he laid his fingers gently across her lips and shook his head.
"Hold it. Before you start arguing that nothing's really changed, that I'm still working and living in St. Paul, and you're still my candlelight lady off in the woods, let me tell you what I've figured out." He moved his fingers away and kissed her instead, and then folded his arms under his head and lay back, staring nearsightedly up at the logs that formed the ceiling.