Retribution. Ruth Langan

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СКАЧАТЬ drifted from an ore carrier moving slowly upriver. In the distance was a ship bearing a foreign flag. Several sailboats danced across the waves, and Adam wondered at the hardy souls willing to risk the wrath of frigid water and fickle winds. Still, if he had the strength, he knew he’d be out there with them. Hadn’t he always enjoyed a challenge? It was one of the reasons he thrived on the dangers of his job.

      He walked over to the telescope he’d set up, so that he could keep a close eye on his surroundings. He peered through the lens, thinking there couldn’t be a more beautiful place in the world than Michigan in fall. Especially here on the shore of Lake Michigan. As long as he had to spend his sick leave somewhere private, there wasn’t anywhere he could think of that would suit him more, so long as he could see an end to the idyll. He knew himself well enough to be certain that even paradise would seem like a prison to him if it stretched on endlessly. He was determined to get out of here as soon as the doctor’s projected goal of six months of therapy was over. He shook his head, trying to recall the last time he’d spent six months in one place.

      Now that the daylight was fading to dusk, he decided to grab a camera and try for a few shots of the nearby forest at sunset. If nothing else, it would take his mind off his pain and boredom.

      Sidney alternately watched the antics of the duck family and lowered her head to return her attention to her canvas, perfectly capturing the line, the form, the symmetry of each of her models.

      In early spring she’d watched this pair of proud mallards bring their six babies to the water and hover over them as they’d taken their first swim near shore. Now the six were as big as their parents, and ready for the flight south with other migrating flocks. To prepare for the grueling trip, they were driven to search out as much food as their bodies could hold. Tipping upside down to feed on the bottom of the shallows, only their tail feathers were visible. It was a sight she always found endearing. She’d already thought of the title for the painting. Bottom’s Up. That had her grinning.

      Though the earlier afternoon sunshine had caused her to discard her corduroy jacket and roll her sleeves, she now shivered in the gathering shadows as she struggled to put this entire scene on canvas before the duck family decided to depart for warmer climates.

      Picasso lay at her feet, panting from his romp in the woods, his fur matted with burrs that would take most of the evening to remove. Toulouse was nowhere to be seen, but Sidney wasn’t worried. Even if he stayed out all day stalking field mice, that cat was smart enough to show up at her door in time for dinner. Toulouse never missed a meal or a chance to curl up before the fire.

      She added a dab of paint to her palette, mixed it and bent to her work.

      Picasso’s ears lifted. He sprang to his feet, a low warning growl issuing from his throat.

      Surprised, Sidney turned in time to see a shadow emerging from the cover of the woods. As the shadow separated itself from the others, she realized it was a man. At first, judging by his rough beard and even rougher garb, she thought he might be a hunter, until she realized that he was carrying, not a rifle, but a camera. A second camera hung from a strap around his neck.

      He paused, allowing the dog to get close enough to take his scent.

      “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was deep, the words spoken abruptly, as though he resented having to speak at all.

      Sidney set aside her brush and wiped her hands on a rag before getting to her feet. “We don’t see too many people out here.”

      “I didn’t expect to run into anybody.” He glanced around. “I don’t see a car or a boat. How’d you get here?”

      “I live over there.” She pointed to the forest at his back.

      “In those woods?” He shot her a look of surprise. “I was told this was federally protected land.”

      “It is. Or at least most of it is. My property was grandfathered in before the government bought the surrounding land. It’s been owned by the same family since the turn of the century, so it remained private property. When it went on the market, I liked the idea of a guarantee that there would never be any neighbors.”

      She could feel him studying her a little too intensely. When an uncomfortable silence stretched between them she tried a smile. “How about you? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around Devil’s Cove before.”

      He didn’t return the smile. “Just moved in.” He watched the way the dog moved to stand protectively beside Sidney. “I’m staying in the lighthouse.”

      “Really?” She turned to study the tower that could be seen above the tree line. “How did you manage that? I thought it was an historic building now, and off-limits to the public.”

      “Just lucky, I guess. The historical society asked me to photograph the area for their almanac. In exchange, I get to stay there until next spring.”

      “Then you’re a professional photographer?”

      “Yeah.” He glanced at the canvas. “And from the look of that, I’d guess I’m in the company of a professional artist.”

      When he made no move to introduce himself, Sidney offered her hand. “I’m Sidney Brennan.”

      He seemed to pause a beat before saying gruffly, “I think I’ve seen some of your work. Wildlife?”

      She nodded.

      “Adam Morgan.”

      He had a strong, firm handshake, she noted. And his eyes stayed steady on hers until she withdrew her hand and motioned toward the dog at her feet. “This is Picasso.”

      When he looked down, the dog cocked his head to one side and regarded him. “A good watchdog.”

      She laughed. “He knows who feeds him.”

      “Lucky dog. Since I have to feed myself, I’m about to head back and see about dinner.”

      “Dinner?” Sidney glanced up at the sky, noting for the first time that the sun had begun to slip below the horizon. “I had no idea it was so late.”

      “That must mean you were having a good day.”

      She nodded, surprised that he understood. “That’s right. I get so lost in my work, I forget everything. I even forget to eat.”

      “Yeah. I know the feeling.” He turned toward the lighthouse in the distance. “Good night.”

      “Nice to meet you, Adam. Maybe I’ll see you again some time.” Sidney began to pack up her paints.

      Seeing her fold up her easel and camp stool to pack them in the wagon, he paused, taking her measure. She was no bigger than a minnow and couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds. “You sure you can handle all that?”

      “Don’t worry. I haul it all the time.”

      She’d gone only a few paces when he fell into step beside her.

      At her arched eyebrow he merely took the handle from her hands. “Sorry. I’ve forgotten my manners. Living alone does that. I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me pull this.”

      It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. She didn’t СКАЧАТЬ