“Yeah. The hockey team’s really good.”

“But that would mean you and I would miss the dance in town.”

“I guess so. But I would understand.”

His approach reminded her of a stalking bobcat, and Emma took a cautious step back, holding a pot lid up like a shield.

He caught her by the shoulders and just stared at her, his hands warm and solid, his whole presence overwhelming.

“Are you afraid to be seen with me? Is that it? Are you afraid to go out with the man you think killed your father?”

Emma snorted and pulled free, her eyes narrowed as she planted her hands on her hips. “For an intelligent man, you sure can be dense sometimes. You wouldn’t be standing here now if I thought you killed my father.” She pointed at him. “Your only sin was walking away from my sister without a fight.”

She saw him flinch, and she continued. “It appears you leave your brain at home when you come here, Ben. Sixteen years ago, the result was Mikey. This time you could start an all-out war. The clear-cutting controversy is much more widespread than the dam was. More jobs are at stake and more men are desperate. There’s also the question of myfeelings. I don’t intend to be your entertainment. I’m not dancing with you and I’m not hopping into your bed only to watch you walk away again, taking Mikey with you this time. Understand?”

He forced her back a step. “Nothing about my being here is entertaining. This has got to be the most difficult journey I’ve ever made. And the most important.” Emma glared at him, but he just smiled back. “Thank you for sending me that letter.”

“I didn’t send the damn letter!”

He continued talking as if she hadn’t spoken. “It might have been a little late in coming, but I’m grateful anyway.”

“I did notsend that damn letter,” she repeated through gritted teeth.

He took hold of her shoulders and kissed her nose. “I forgive you for waiting so long, because I understand. And don’t worry; I’ll look out for Mike in this land-use war. I’ll keep him safe.”

She wiggled away and bolted for the great room. He called her name, and she stopped and turned. “What?”

“There’s one more thing you’re mistaken about.”

“And that would be?”

“When I get you in my bed, entertainment will be the last thing on my mind.”

Just then the dishes in the cupboard began to rattle and the floor started to vibrate. Emma knew it was just another one of the small tremors they’d been experiencing for the last couple of months, yet she was suddenly afraid Ben had commanded the very forces of nature to prove his power.

She fled to the safety of her bedroom.

Chapter Nine

E very so often theworld seemed to close in around her, and Emma got the urge to escape. Usually she hiked a portion of the Appalachian Trail up to Mount Katahdin, and with every step deeper into the wilderness, things would somehow fall into perspective. Climbing mountains and wading across streams quickly reminded Emma that a single life was insignificant in the bigger scheme of things, and that whatever problem she was facing was usually minor when viewed through the eyes of Mother Nature.

But hiking wasn’t going to help her today, so she went shopping instead.

She flew down to Bangor, landing on Pushaw Lake and bumming a car from someone at the seaplane base. Then she spent the morning wandering around the mall, eating fast food and trying on shoes that tortured her feet. And for the first time in over ten years, Emma entered a store that had nothing but home furnishings, and bought decorative towels.

Eventually she headed for a dress shop. It took her over an hour, and more nerve than she knew she possessed, but she finally purchased a dress she would probably have to burn after tonight.

The whole flight home, the bag from the boutique sat beside her. The salesgirl, and even some customers, had talked her into buying the dress, and the closer to home Emma got, the more her courage deserted her. What had she been thinking? Had some oversexed fairy suddenly taken over her brain? She couldn’t actually wear the damn thing in public.

She would have to burn it beforetonight.

Emma suddenly banked the Cessna, aborting her approach to Medicine Creek Camps and headed back down the lake. It was time to visit with Greta.

“Well, well. Look what my cat dragged in.”

“This poor old thing couldn’t catch a cricket. I carried him in.”

“So now that you’ve done your good deed for the day, come have some tea with me, Emma Jean. I just made a carrot cake.”

“No wonder Wayne Poulin and Sheriff Ramsey are looking so fat lately. You’re feeding them too well, Greta.”

Greta LaVoie brushed that aside and motioned to Emma to take a seat. The petite woman lifted the kettle from the stove and began filling it with water. Then, with motions that belied her seventy-five years, she bustled to her china cabinet and set up a tray for tea.

Emma did as she was told, dropping her bags on the floor beside her and sitting in comfortable silence, waiting for the only mother figure she had ever known to begin mothering her. This was exactly what she needed. In this ramshackle old boardinghouse, Emma had always been treated like a princess. Greta had been coddling and caring for her since Emma was six years old. Scraped knees, broken hearts, and one or two squirrel bites had been mended here by a woman who hadn’t changed in twenty-four years. As timeless and as constant as Medicine Lake itself, Greta Lavoie had been Emma’s sanctuary.

The caring and worry went both ways.

Six years ago Greta had lost her lifelong companion, and had leaned on Emma in her grief. Sable Jones had affectionately been known in town as Greta’s sister, but everyone had known the truth. Same-sex living arrangements were nearly unheard-of forty years ago, when the women had arrived in Medicine Gore, but they had quickly become part of the close-knit community. The two women had bought this old house and opened up a boarding home, taking in mostly bachelor woodsmen who wanted to be cooked for and pampered. When Sable Jones had died, the entire town had come to her funeral and mourned their loss.

“How’s things out at Medicine Creek?” Greta asked as she cut two large pieces of cake and set them on the tray.

“Fine. Greta, have you ever seen Wayne Poulin get any mail from away?”

Wayne had been boarding at Greta’s for nearly fifteen years, and Emma had been thinking about Wayne, and Kelly, and Ben’s letter.

“Sure. He gets lots of mail from away. He corresponds with other foresters all over the world. Why?”

“Would you have noticed if he ever got any mail that could have been from … from Kelly?”

Greta stopped fussing with her dishes and looked over at Emma, sorrow etching her aged face. “No, child. I know he’s said Kelly has written him, but I haven’t seen any letters like that.”

Emma shrugged. “I was just wondering.”

Greta walked over and set her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “Kelly would have written you, not Wayne. I don’t believe anything he’s said about her. He was mighty upset when she left, and he’s still telling people she’ll come back to him. It’s his pride speaking, Emma Jean.”

Emma nodded agreement. “I thought so. But I wondered.”

“Been shopping, I see,” Greta said as her foot touched the bags Emma had brought in. “What’d ya get?”

With a grand flourish, Emma picked up one of the bags and plopped it on the table. “When have I ever gone to Bangor and not brought something back for you?” she asked, reaching into the bag and leaving her hand there.

“Don’t tease me, Emma Jean. I’m too old for games.”