The Man She Married. Muriel Jensen

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ don’t you just ride to the inn with me?”

      Paris looked worried. “So…you’re just going to take off for Alaska tomorrow?” she asked Gideon.

      He wrapped her in his arms. “There’s little point in me staying. What about if the three of us meet here for breakfast in the morning before I go?”

      “That’d be good.” She heaved a sigh. “She’s changed, you know. I’m sure if you two had some more time together, you might be surprised by how much more…real she’s become.”

      He nodded grimly. “She’s always been very real to me. The trouble is, what we had no longer exists for her. So there isn’t even a thread of the old life to hold on to and find our way back.”

      “Maybe the way isn’t back, but forward,” Randy suggested. “Approach it as two people without a past. Start over.”

      “That sounds good,” Hank offered, then added with a grin, “And I fully appreciate that this is none of my business, but I’ve inherited an unfortunate buttinsky nature from my mother.” Then he sobered and went on. “But as someone in love with a woman with whom I’d had a past, I know you can’t pretend it isn’t there. It’s always there. It affected you, it changed you, and it has to be resolved or there is no future.” He frowned at Gideon. “The bad news, Gideon, is that if it’s important to you, you have to hit it head-on. There’s no way around it.”

      Gideon spread both arms. “I understand that. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t really think we could repair the relationship, I just wanted to make sure she understood what had happened. But she’s not willing to listen and I’m tired of trying.”

      Randy shook his hand. “Maybe she’ll miss you while you’re in Alaska.”

      Gideon gave that suggestion the small, wry laugh it deserved. “I don’t think so. See you two here in the morning. Is eight too early?”

      “Eight’s good.”

      Gideon followed Hank to a dark green van, Whitcomb’s Wonders painted in white script on the side.

      “The men who work for you are called Whitcomb’s Wonders?” Gideon asked, climbing into the van. “That’s quite a claim.”

      “It is. And I can back it up. Like I told you over breakfast, clients love that they can call one number for almost any kind of service relating to a home or business.”

      “Do you have a good shrink on staff? I feel as though I could use one right about now.”

      Hank laughed. “No shrink, but my mother loves to dispense advice. I’ll spare you that.” He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. “I think I understand your frustration. My wife and I were high-school sweethearts. We were separated by a major breach in communication and finally got back together when I moved home a couple of years ago.”

      “How did you heal that breach?”

      “We fought a lot,” Hank said. “But at least we were talking.”

      That, Gideon thought, was the difference right there. Prue had a lot to say but wasn’t interested in listening.

      Well. That was fine. He was sure he’d like Alaska. Land of the Midnight Sun, of sled dogs and tales of the gold rush. Another adventure.

      He just wished he felt more enthusiastic about it. He had to do something completely different, and a partnership with an old college friend in a fishing lodge in the wilderness had seemed like a good place to relax, enjoy the outdoors and try to get a little spirit back into his life.

      He hated what had happened between him and Prue, but pleading with her to listen to the truth was as close as he intended to get to groveling.

      Hank pulled up to the Yankee Inn, a three-story colonial with green shutters and a vine-covered pergola at the side.

      Inside, as Hank leaned over the counter to embrace his wife and deliver the cinnamon roll, Gideon looked around. He saw worn wood floors, a cozy atmosphere provided by a fieldstone fireplace and a settee that was probably as old as the building.

      Hank introduced Jackie, a pretty woman with strawberry blond hair and welcoming gray eyes. Hank wished him good luck, while Jackie checked Gideon in and then led him upstairs to his room. It was remarkably quiet. He could see some roofs, the tops of trees and birds in flight. He went to the window and looked down on the bucolic setting stretched out before him. Drying grass, the beautiful Berkshires and the occasional home dotting the road that led to town. He felt something reach out to him and take hold.

      “One of my ancestors hid an injured redcoat in this room,” Jackie said, smoothing the quilt on the bed. “And nursed him back to health.”

      He put his bag down and opened the window. Cool fragrant air filled the room. It smelled of wood smoke, and he could hear the musical burble of a stream. He turned back to his hostess to grin. “That was probably a dangerous and unpopular thing for her to do.”

      Jackie nodded. “She was sixteen. Danger doesn’t always stop you at that age. Fortunately, he changed sides for her and survived the war. They raised eight children on this place.”

      “Courage deserves a happy ending.”

      “Yes, it does. And sometimes it takes time to get there.”

      She smiled pleasantly as she opened the door, a silent message in her manner that she understood his situation and sympathized with it. Of course. She’d dealt with and survived that major “communications breach” with Hank. And everyone in Maple Hill seemed to know and even care about everyone else’s business.

      “Drinks in the lounge five-thirty to seven this evening,” she said. “And continental breakfast from seven to ten in the morning. Is there anything I can get you?”

      He looked around the cozy, comfortable room and shook his head. “No, thank you.”

      “Just press nine on the phone for the desk. Enjoy the day.”

      She stepped out into the hallway and closed the door.

      He didn’t think there was any way that was going to happen, but he could get himself organized for the trip to Alaska. He confirmed his reservations from Boston, verified his flight on the small plane scheduled to take him from Juneau to Gustavus, then tried to call Dean Kenton, his partner in the fishing lodge, but got no answer.

      He took a shower, closed the window in the room as the day wore on to early afternoon, then lay down on the bed, enjoying the unusual luxury of having the time and place for a nap.

      The bedding smelled fresh and vaguely herbal as he settled his head into the middle of a plump pillow and closed his eyes. His back and shoulders relaxed against the mattress.

      Peace, he thought, enjoying the moment. He was finally going to have peace. Loving Prue had been exciting, tempestuous and undeniably delicious when she was being sane and adult. But she’d displayed those qualities less often in the last year of their marriage, and he wouldn’t miss the tears and shouting on her part, the exasperation and anger on his. Refusing to see him when he’d followed her home had been unreasonable, even for her.

      Yes. Moving away was a good thing. Nothing like a clean СКАЧАТЬ