第 31 页

Otherwise it wouldn't mean a thing.

That was the issue. Would he willingly accept the responsibility of supporting a wife and child? If he would, everything would be wonderful. And if not-If not, she would have to be strong for the baby's sake. The thought sickened her, made her feel lost and alone.

But she wasn't alone. Her hand strayed again to her stomach, and the wonder came back, this time chasing away the fear. She'd never be alone again. The realization gave her strength. With strength came honesty.

She could no longer afford the luxury of waiting for Cornelius to come around and express his love. She had to know now whether he loved her enough to change his life-style. Because if he couldn't allow himself to be part of a family, she had to get moving. If he wouldn't accept the responsibility of having a wife and child, she had to leave Dawson City in time to have the child in St. Louis, among family and friends.

Unfortunately "How do you feel about children?" wasn't the sort of question one just asked, especially not of a man like Cornelius. A man who probably hadn't spent ten seconds in his whole life thinking about kids.

No, she decided, she couldn't simply ask him. A sneak attack would be much more effective. She brushed aside her discomfort at the method; this wasn't the time to worry about tactics. She needed answers.

A good dinner, a cup of hot tea and some popcorn, and maybe a little romance would work for starters. Then, when he was nice and relaxed, she'd sneak in an unexpected question. One that would get him started thinking about home and hearth and family without being overly obvious.

After a few lead-in questions, she'd slip in a quick query on whether he'd ever wanted a child.

If she made him comfortable enough and asked just the right questions, he might actually think about what it would be like to be part of a family. A real, loving family.

Wouldn't that seem wonderful to a man who'd always been on the outside looking in? Why, he might just realize he wanted a family all his own.

She grinned. It might work. For the first time in a month she felt hopeful for the future. Things always looked brighter when one had a plan.

Stone Man stood on the banks of the Yukon, his arms folded across his chest, his narrowed eyes focused on the river.

"Goddamn it," he hissed as a wagon-sized boulder heaved through the ice floe and eased its way through the thawing water.

Spring had come.

He stomped back to the post. Halfway there he saw her. She was marching up the boardwalk like an invading general. Even from this distance he could see the determined set to her jaw. And she was gnawing on that damn thumbnail again.

God help him, she'd seen the river break, and now she was thinking. He winced. It had to be about leaving him.

He stopped in front of the post. She brushed by him in a swirl of blue skirting, her eyes trained on the brand-new planks beneath her feet.

"Dev?"

She spun around. The moment their eyes locked, a furious blush swept her cheeks. He frowned.

What the hell was she so skittish about? "What are you doing?" he asked in a harsher voice than he intended.

"I-I was thinking."

"I can see that. Blood is dripping down your thumb."

The thumb popped out of her mouth. She stared at him blankly. It was disconcerting to face him before she had her Plan set. All she could think of was to ask him if he'd ever wanted a son. She gave herself a mental shake.

"What were you thinking about?" he demanded.

She said the second thing that popped into her mind. "The river."

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly; his face hardened. "I see."

Devon frowned, confused by the coldness in his voice. "What's the matter, Cornel-"

"Stone Man," he corrected sharply.

"But-"

"The first boat should be here in a few days."

His interruption stopped her. She didn't know how to respond. There seemed to be undercurrents in his sentence; angry, swirling undercurrents she couldn't quite grasp. "I-I know," she finally answered, "Cornstalk told me that the boats were probably lined up upstream, just waiting for the thaw."

"So you've asked." He folded his arms across his chest. Stepping back, he leaned stiffly against the post's support beam and eyed her. His face was chillingly void of emotion. His eyes were hard. "What now?"

Devon was totally confused. What in the world did he mean, what now? "I... don't follow you."

"That's what I figured."

Devon gave an exasperated sigh. Granted she had things on her mind, and she wasn't paying perfect attention to what he was saying, but he wasn't making a darn bit of sense. "Oh, for goodness' sake, what is the matter with you? You're talking in circles."

"You want direct? How about this: When are you leaving?"

"Right now."

His jaw dropped. "Now?"

She winced at the loudness of his voice. "Cornelius, I don't know why you're so upset, but we'll simply have to discuss it tonight. Right now IVe got things to do, and I'm going home. I'll see you for supper?"

"Fine."

"Good." She started to leave, and suddenly his hands were around her waist, drawing her into a fierce hug. Lowering his head, he kissed her with an urgency that left her gasping for air.

As abruptly as he'd grabbed her he let her go. Reeling from his burst of passion, she stumbled backward. Without a word he disappeared inside the post.

Devon thought about following him then changed her mind. Talking to him in his present state of mind would only give her a headache. Besides, she had a lot of cooking to do for tonight.

After she'd gone Stone Man peeked outside the post flaps and stared at their tent. Gray wisps of smoke spiraled up from the metal stovepipe, giving the sorry canvas structure a quaint, homey look.

A strange thickness swelled in his throat as he looked at the only home he'd ever known. Not that it would be a home for long. As soon as she left the tent would become once again four wood-and-canvas walls and a plank floor. No longer would there be a soul to the place, a heart.

He had a home and a love for another few days. After that he'd be alone again. Only it would be a new kind of aloneness. Cold, forbidding, and full of memories. In short it would be hell.

A bell clanged, wrenching him out of his melancholy thoughts. He brought his head up suddenly.

Damn them- couldn't they do anything quietly?

Another miner had bought a round of drinks for the house, and naturally everyone in town had to hear about it. They rang that ridiculous bell every time anyone tossed a poke on the bar.

He glanced down the boardwalk. At the end the Pioneer and the White Elephant saloons sat like two dirty-sailed ships. He didn't have to look inside to know that both tents were chock-full of miners and whores.

He gave a disgusted sigh. They'd ruined everything, the damned miners.

His peaceful valley had been murdered. Buildings, both log and tent, were sprouting willy-nilly along the boardwalk and through the valley. The old rules and customs had been forgotten, and the old-timers no longer felt free to leave their cabin doors ajar. There were upwards of two thousand people in the town now, and less than a dozen Yukoners. It was a gold town now. A boom town, to be raped and plundered and ultimately forgotten.

He should be packing his things and looking for another wilderness to record. But he couldn't move on-not this time. She'd ruined it for him. The isolated life-style no longer held any appeal for him. Now all he wanted was a little cabin in the middle of some remote valley. A place for just the two of them, a place to call their own...

As always the realization brought with it an almost blinding sense of loss. How could he go back to merely existing now that he'd lived?

He wandered back inside the post. If only things were different. If only there was a way they could compromise...

But there wasn't. He couldn't live in a goddamn city. He just couldn't; and he couldn't ask her to spend her life in his backwater wilderness. He loved her too much for that.

Not that she'd stay if he did ask her, he reminded himself harshly. She'd made that point often enough. She couldn't wait to leave him, and now that the river had broken there was nothing to keep her here.

He loved her, aad she was leaving. It was the past all over again.

A headache pounded through his skull. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He'd thought about a compromise a thousand times, and it always ended up the same. A dead end. Now the time for thinking was gone.

A cold, icy dread spilled through his body. She was going to hit him with it when he got home tonight.

Good-bye.

Devon buzzed around the stove, tasting, testing, opening and closing the door. A myriad of pungent, mouth-watering aromas floated in the air above her head, making the small tent smell like home. Every food Cornelius had ever expressed a liking for was simmering somewhere on the little stove She glanced at the table. It was perfect. The red tablecloth, now faded from many washings, draped the old table in color, and a Campbell's soup can full of wild arctic poppies added a splash of yellow.

She smoothed the hair out of her face, wishing she'd put it in a roman knot after all. Cornelius liked her hair down, liked to run his fingers through its coarse, curly strands; but she much preferred it back. When it fell in her face she felt untidy.

She'd pull it back, she decided suddenly. It wouldn't do tonight for her to feel at a disadvantage.

Just as she turned toward the armoire for her hairpins the door creaked open, and Cornelius walked into the tent. She stumbled to a halt. A sudden, overwhelming fear clutched her by the throat, making breathing difficult.

So much was riding on tonight...

"Hello," he said, doffing his mackinaw and hat.

His greeting broke Devon's frozen spell. She forced her arms to her sides and offered him what she hoped was a bright smile. Moving mechanically toward him she said, "Hi. Sit down, I'll get you some coffee."

She started to turn back to the stove, but he caught her midspin and pulled her into his arms. "I don't need any coffee. What I need is you."

Devon's heart lurched into her throat. Need. It was a word he hadn't used before, and it carried with it a wealth of meaning. Hope surged through her. Her forced, tense smile melted into the real thing. "And I need you," she replied softly.

Their gazes locked, and time came to a crashing halt. The tent spiraled out of focus, blurring into a pale-gray backdrop. There was, for one heart-stopping moment, nothing in the world but the two of them.

Say it, she thought.

Don't say it, he thought.

Neither of them spoke. Slowly, like a flower left too long in the shade, the moment died. The tent came back into focus.

Devon felt suddenly awkward. Smoothing the hair out of her face, she pulled out of his embrace and said shakily, "Wash your hands, dinner is ready."

Stone Man felt her absence like a cold north wind. Stiffly he moved to the washbasin she kept filled with water. His sense of impending disaster swelled. She was tense, edgy. The burden of holding back her thoughts was killing her.

After washing his hands he sat down at the little table and; put the carefully folded napkin in his lap. He no longer even thought about it; the action was as natural as breathing. , A knot twisted his throat as he stared at the bright yellow flowers. How much longer before he was eating off a dirty, scarred wooden table again-without a napkin, without a tablecloth, without even utensils?

Amazingly the poppies blurred. He swiped angrily at his eyes and jerked his gaze over to the stove.

She was doing her sparrow in a glass box routine again. The sight brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.

She turned around suddenly. Bustling to the table, she swept up their plates and hurried back to the stove.

In an instant their plates were piled high with food.

He stared down into his plate, and as he did the full impact of what was happening hit him all over again.

Sweet Christ, she'd cooked all his favorite foods. Every goddamn one of; them.

The condemned man's last meal. "Cornelius? Is something wrong? I thought you'd be pleased..."

He lifted his head slowly to look at her. "Nothing's wrong. It's a wonderful meal. All my favorites."

She beamed. "Good."

She started eating, counterclockwise, one food item at a time. He stared at her a long time, feeling a hollowness spread through his chest. Then, reluctantly, he began to eat. Even the roasted bear meat in chutney tasted like ashes on his tongue.

After dinner, as they stood side by side washing the dinner dishes, Devon tried to study him covertly. She couldn't see his face, but when their bodies brushed she could feel the tension in his arms.

Around them the air seemed charged with undercurrents of disaster. She had to clench her fists constantly to still the trembling of her fingers.

"Shall I make some hot cocoa?" she said in as bright a voice as she could muster.

"No. I don't want chocolate."

"But I'd planned-"

"I don't give a good goddamn for your plans, Dev." He threw down the soggy dishtowel and swept her into his arms. "IVe got plans of my own for tonight-and they don't include listening to your logical babble. Not tonight."

"Logical babb-"

He silenced her with a kiss that left her breathless and trembling. "Now," he drawled against her moist, parted lips, "would you like to hear my plans for this evening?"

A wave of desire washed through her body, chasing her calm, rational thoughts into the dark corners of her mind. She could ask him later...

"I believe I'd rather feel them," she murmured back, arching into him.

She thought she heard a muffled"Thank God" as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

They undressed each other eagerly. Naked, they came together like new lovers, with a pent-up passion that left them both reeling.

Afterward they lay twined in each other's arms. For the first time all evening Cornelius allowed himself to relax. He was safe for tonight. He knew Devon well enough to know that if she'd planned on saying good-bye tonight she couldn't have made love first. When her mind was on something there was no getting through to her body.