Authors: Kim Baldwin
“That sounds pretty good to me, but I’ve never been able to achieve it. The few women I’ve dated any real length of time, and the one I lived with, became more emotionally attached than they meant to, I guess.”
“No one can control who they fall in love with, Emery.”
“So they say. I wouldn’t know.”
Pasha ruffled her hair and surveyed her handiwork. “Done. Hope you like it.” She rummaged through the cookware and produced a stainless-steel fry pan with a mirror-like interior. “Probably not the best, but…” She held it in front of Emery.
From what she could tell, the haircut looked like one of her better ones lately. How wonderful to have her bangs out of her eyes. “Thanks, Pasha. Looks great.”
“Want some decaf, or some tea?” A jangling sound startled them. “That’s the satellite phone.” Pasha dug through her daypack and pulled out the device. “It’s Pasha.” She cupped her hand over her other ear to hear better and stepped away from the noisy river. “Dita? I can barely hear you.” She listened for several seconds. “Repeat that?” More listening. She frowned. “Okay. Got it. I’ll pass the word. We’ll be ready.” She stuck the phone back into her bag. “That storm forecast for the day after tomorrow looks like a real bitch, so our three-day has become a two-day. We leave tomorrow night.”
“Well, I’m not surprised. Dita warns everyone that weather can shorten or lengthen any trip. Not that big a deal to me since I’ve got a lot more to look forward to, but I bet the others will be disappointed.”
“Hey!” Chaz shouted to them from upriver, the smiling clients trailing her.
“Welcome back!” Pasha yelled, and Emery waved.
Judging from the photos everyone eagerly shared around the campfire a bit later, Emery had missed seeing an impressive bull moose and female with her leggy calf, as well as a bald eagle, peregrine falcon, and other birdlife. But she didn’t regret her choice.
She’d learned a great deal about Pasha in a very short time, things that only increased her interest. And sharing the most painful details of her life had indeed helped, as Pasha said it might. Emery felt lighter, somehow, her burden lifted. And when she crawled into her sleeping bag, she didn’t take her usual pain pill. Despite the plane flight and long walk that morning, she felt better than she had in a long time.
Next day, June 6
Pasha gazed over the river valley, watching a solitary eagle catch the thermals looking for breakfast. She hadn’t slept well, engrossed in replaying her conversation with Emery, and the restlessness finally pushed her from her cot at four a.m.
Emery’s readiness to accept her sixth sense had encouraged her, as had her willingness to explore and understand their connection. She had displayed a lot of trust by candidly sharing the details of her hellish accidents.
Obviously Emery had considered her daredevil lifestyle carefully and seemed determined not to allow anything to interfere with her plans.
Words kept ringing in Pasha’s head, how the dying say they “wish they’d had the courage to live a life true to themselves, not the one others expected of them.” Was she right to try to change Emery’s mind?
Restricting their relationship to friendship would probably help both of them, she decided. Emery already felt guilty about the girlfriend she’d hurt, and Pasha didn’t want to give her reason for any more regrets. And if they became intimate, Pasha would have an even more difficult time telling Emery good-bye when she moved on.
She hadn’t reached that decision easily, even during rational solitude. Could she uphold it when she saw Emery and the power insisted she follow her heart, not her head? All her life, she’d blindly followed whatever course the power directed, and she hesitated to defy it now when it so powerfully guided her to embrace all possibilities with Emery.
A subtle shift in the current of their connection alerted her. Emery was awake and getting ready to join her. Pasha had a fresh cup of coffee ready by the time Emery emerged from her tent.
“Good morning.” Pasha held out the mug.
“Morning.” When Emery reached for the coffee, their fingertips overlapped and the resulting shock made them jump. A little of the coffee spilled.
They laughed.
“Well, that sure woke me up.” Emery hefted the mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“I remembered it’s your can’t-do-without drink. Figured you’re like me—have to have that first cup right away to feel human.”
“Exactly right.” Emery took a long sip and sighed. “And I gotta say, for being out here so far in the boonies, you make a damn good brew.” She glanced around the campsite. “No one else up and around yet?”
“Nope. Only us.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s just six. Chaz set her watch alarm for seven.”
Emery looked curiously at Pasha. “How’d you manage to have a cup ready and waiting for me, then?”
“I…I felt you get up and knew you’d be out soon.”
Emery shook her head. “I won’t pretend to understand what’s happening, and sometimes I feel unnerved that a near-total stranger can
feel
where I am and what I’m doing.” She smiled. “But it’s rather wonderful as well.”
“I’m happy you feel that way. Not like I have much control over it, that’s for sure.” Pasha picked up her own cup and topped it off with what remained in the French press. “Sit?”
“Sure.”
They sat in adjacent camp chairs placed beside the riverbank, sipping their coffee and admiring the landscape. The sky, clear and cloudless, didn’t hint about the approaching storm.
“Sleep well? Emery asked.
“I kept replaying last night in my mind.”
“Me, too. I just wanted to say thanks. Talking about it did help.”
“I’m glad. It had to be very painful to dig all that up again. But I’m honored you shared it with me.”
“What’s on tap for today?”
“Chaz and I decided last night to pack in as much as possible to try to make up for leaving early. She knows a route that’ll take most of the day to cover, but you’ll have a good chance to see a lot. I’ve already packed some bag lunches.”
“And you? Will you be coming?”
Pasha shook her head. “I get to pack all the gear while you’re gone and prep a fabulous final dinner.”
“Damn. I forgot.” Emery frowned. “I promised Geneva I’d let her fix me dinner when we get back. I almost said, since you and I’ll be back unexpectedly, maybe we could do something together tomorrow.”
“I’m sure Dita will keep me busy. It’s okay.” Pasha fought to calm the sick feeling in her stomach at the thought of Emery and Geneva together. Perhaps Emery should fulfill her sexual needs elsewhere, but frustration and loss overwhelmed her.
“At least we have another trip in a few days to look forward to.”
“Yup. And more beyond that.”
They turned at the sound of boots on gravel approaching from behind. Joe and Mandy apparently rose early, too. Joe hailed them. “Morning, ladies.”
“Any more of that coffee?” Mandy asked when she got close enough to spot their mugs.
“Ready in just a minute.” Pasha rose from her chair and looked at Emery. “I’ll miss getting this kind of precious time with you until we go rafting,” she said in a low voice the Fillmores wouldn’t hear.
“No more than I will.” The intensity in Emery’s eyes ignited the embers of bliss into a bonfire of longing, so painfully sweet Pasha’s breath caught in her throat.
No way on earth could she deny any possible opportunity to be close to Emery.
*
Bettles
Next day, June 7
“The clients all raved about the trip,” Dita commented as they sorted through the unused supplies, tents, cookware, and other gear, organizing everything into piles on the long tables in the office lounge. “Didn’t seem to mind too much having to come back early.”
“Chaz had the magic touch for finding wildlife, and giving them some of their money back helped, I’m sure.” Pasha glanced out the window. Sheets of driving rain obliterated the view, the sky as dark as dusk. The drumming on the roof and jarring cracks of thunder had commenced at five a.m., driving them out of bed. “You definitely made the right call.” Pasha wondered whether Emery was entirely comfortable with thunderstorms, though it had been many years since lightning had struck her. If not, certainly she could endure the storm more easily from the safety of the Den than her tent.
“They loved your cooking, especially the bisque.” Dita paused. “Hey, did Toni tell you she and Ruth are staying?”
“No. Staying? What do you mean?”
“She came by last night after you went upstairs. Asked if we had any openings on your rafting trip, and that Baltimore couple canceled the day before. Apparently they had too much fun to leave and arranged to take some additional vacation time. Alyson has to head back.”
“That’s great. I really like them.”
“Actually works out well that you got back a day early. Things have been crazy here, and I need to catch up on some of my vendor orders. You mind manning the desk today?”
“No, I expected I could be useful.” Pasha didn’t want to spend her day watching Emery and Geneva together. Working would make the time pass quicker.
*
Emery stared out the window at the charcoal sky, flinching when a brilliant flash of lightning and instant-later boom of thunder broke her reverie. She drew the curtains with a trembling hand and switched on the bed lamp. Storms usually didn’t bother her any more, but she felt unusually vulnerable after unearthing her long-buried memories of the day her friends died.
A good day to sit inside and read, update her journal, and rest. The nagging, residual ache in her legs, pelvis, and back had resurfaced with a vengeance during the night, and her pain meds had just started kicking in when the storm began to batter her windows. She’d slept at most only a couple of hours, because she’d been up late thinking about Pasha.
She still didn’t understand why she’d found it so easy, and so comforting, to tell Pasha about her past. Or why she knew Pasha would keep everything she’d told her in strict confidence. Somehow Pasha had snuck through all her carefully constructed barriers designed to prevent people from seeing her pain or getting too close.
Pasha’s extraordinary intuition no doubt made her unusually sensitive to the moods and inner turmoil of those she met and spent time with. But their mysterious and wonderful connection entailed much more than that. Did Pasha experience such intensity with everyone who triggered her sixth sense…all those she’d seen with an aura who had become her close friends? She found that hard to believe.
Or maybe, Emery mused, she just didn’t
want
to believe this bond was less unique for Pasha than for her.
She still didn’t understand a lot, but she certainly couldn’t date both Pasha and Geneva. She didn’t want to risk hurting Geneva, and her expression when Emery got back told her everything Bryson had warned her about was true. Geneva was obviously already falling for her. She had learned to run from that look.
Besides, the disparity in her attraction to Geneva and Pasha had grown too vast during the past few days to ignore. Sweet, beautiful Geneva’s attributes had become less compelling, while Emery’s fascination with Pasha had blossomed into a near obsession. When, precisely, had she memorized every nuance of her delicate features? She could easily recall a perfect, three-dimensional clone. In fact, she found it difficult to think very long about anything else.
She needed to talk with Geneva,
now
. They hadn’t exchanged more than brief hellos when she’d returned last night, because Geneva was working in the packed Den and wasn’t downstairs when Emery went to breakfast. But it was after ten now, so she should be awake.
Emery went down the hall to Geneva’s room and knocked softly. “Geneva? It’s Emery.”
Geneva opened the door halfway. Her hair wet and wearing only her robe, she’d obviously just emerged from the shower. “Hi, Emery! What a nice surprise. Come in.”
“I’ll let you get dressed. Want to meet me downstairs? I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure. See you in a few.”
She detoured through the sparse lunch crowd and many open tables to the bar.
“Back again.” Grizz smiled, displaying shiny, pointed canines. “What can I get ya, Emery?”
“I want to try a new local brew. On tap.” She studied the row of logoed spigot handles above each keg. “What do you recommend?”
“Light or dark?”
“Dark. And I’ve already had Pipeline.”
“Hmmm.” He scratched his beard. “Either Prince William’s Porter or Oil Rig Oatmeal Stout.”
“Let’s go with the Porter.” The first sip of the rich-bodied microbrew told her she’d made an excellent choice. “Wonderful. Thanks. I’m meeting Geneva. Add this to my tab?”
“You bet.”
She chose a table away from any windows because the storm still raged outside. Her beer was still half full when Geneva joined her.
“So, how was the trip?” Geneva asked. “Shame it got cut short.”
“Awesome. Great views in every direction, and we saw all kinds of wildlife. Caribou the first day, and yesterday Chaz took us to see Dall sheep. Lots of birds, too, and a couple of moose.”