“Morton! Lie down!” Adam commanded. The dog ignored him, continuing to wag his tail and gaze up at Laura. Adam sighed. “Morton’s the real boss around this place. You’d be wise to get on his good side.”
Was Mr. Scott making a little joke? Laura couldn’t believe it. Maybe he was relaxing.
Morton gave her thigh another nudge as if to say, “Pet me!”
Laura laughed lightly and Adam eyed the dog. “He knows a good thing when he sees it,” he said.
Laura laughed again, but kept her hands on her patient.
Morton finally gave up and collapsed on the floor, bringing his big head to rest on Adam’s foot.
THE NEXT DAY, Laura went exploring during her free time. She climbed far up the mountainside behind the cabin, to the level where the vegetation thinned and became alpine. When the landscape finally grew barren and rocky with the altitude, she turned and followed the creek back down into the trees.
Sixteen Mile Creek ran down from the mountaintop, a trickle, a gurgle, then a riot of white water, in places as wide and deep as a river. Laura followed its course down, down, for maybe a mile or so—she couldn’t really judge the distance—and came upon a densely forested area of old growth above the stone house.
She stopped, looking up at the canopy of trees. Some of them had to be eighty feet tall, with trunks so big she couldn’t get her arms around them. Lodgepole pine, reaching in perfectly straight columns to the sky. Larch, fluttering their feathery leaves in the breeze. Spruce, squatting like wide sentinels.
Overcome by the beauty, Laura sat down on the ground and then, in a fit of ecstasy, threw herself onto her back on the bed of pine needles, squinting at the rays of sun that peeked through the trees.
She lay still for a while, smiling like a child enjoying a delightful secret. Then, suddenly, she had the distinct sensation of being watched.
She sat up and peered through the tree trunks toward the creek. She stood and walked a few feet onto a cornice of stone that jutted out over the water. She heard the roar of a small waterfall and peered downstream, where it tumbled over a narrow natural bridge. Her gaze lifted to a mass of huge boulders, some as big as houses, towering above on the opposite bank.
And there was Adam Scott standing, legs akimbo, on the very top of a boulder, staring down at her.
Laura wondered how long he’d been watching. The idea made her nervous. For a tense moment they stared at each other. Then Laura thought, This is dumb. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
“Isn’t it gorgeous out here!” she shouted happily.
He nodded slowly, but there was no warmth in his squinty expression, no responding happiness.
THAT EVENING AT SUPPER, Laura observed Adam Scott closely. When he was around the Joneses, he seemed like a different man.
At the moment he was biting off the end of a sautéed asparagus spear, rolling his eyes heavenward.
“Where’d you get this dinner, Katherine? At the local drive-through?” He winked at her and she flicked a hand at him.
Laura noted again how Adam’s relationship with the Joneses seemed more than neighborly. Their ease around this table, for instance, as if they’d eaten here hundreds of times.
Tonight the room seemed less bleak. A modest fire crackled in the fireplace, illuminating the colorful counterpane quilt on the bed in the alcove. Katherine had swept and placed a checkered cloth and fat candles on the table. Doc and Adam had hauled in two stools made from sawed-off tree trunks.
“The cook always gets the credit!” Doc boomed, and plucked an asparagus spear off the platter. “I grew the blessed things.”
So, Laura thought, that explains the magnificent garden.
Adam raised a wine goblet—Katherine had gone all-out, even sending Doc on the long trip down to their house to fetch crystal—and said, “Here’s to you both, the wonderful cook, and the unappreciated old farmer.”
Laura frowned at him. Was this man, who petted the dog, teased the cook and toasted his neighbors, the same man who’d been so gruff with her? Since the mood was relaxed, maybe this was a good time to bring up the subject of the attic bedroom. She twirled a strand of her hair, considering this while Katherine ladled a delicious-smelling soup into bowls.
There was also the sensitive subject of a bath or shower. Before supper she’d tried to fix herself up, washed her face and brushed her hair until it made a halo around her face, but it needed a good washing.
She wondered where the shower was, wondered if there even was one. She was almost afraid to ask. Would he direct her to that icy creek, for heaven’s sake?
“Laura?” Katherine touched her arm, trying to hand her a basket of fresh-baked whole-wheat rolls.
“Thank you.” Laura folded back the napkin and lifted a roll, then passed the basket to Adam on her right, avoiding his eyes as he took it.
“I was wondering—” she directed her question to Doc and Katherine “—if you and Doc might be more comfortable in the upstairs room. That alcove seems so small.” She glanced toward the antique bed crammed in there.
“That’s nice of you, dear,” Katherine answered, “but Doc’s arthritic knees bother him. Climbing those steep stairs would aggravate his condition.”
Ah, yes. Adam had told her that. Now, how could she possibly mention that she didn’t appreciate Adam coming into the attic while she slept there? Maybe it wouldn’t happen again.
“Anybody seen Morton today?” Doc injected cheerfully.
“He showed up to eat right on schedule,” Katherine said.
“Who does Morton belong to?” Laura asked pleasantly.
“He doesn’t belong to anybody,” Doc said, after a few moments of silence. “He’s very independent.” His answer seemed like an evasion.
“He sprawls around wherever it suits him.” Katherine raised an eyebrow at the dog, who was lying by the fireplace, soaking up warmth.
“Digs in the garden,” Doc complained.
Adam finally spoke. “Actually, he’s mine.”
“Well, he’s a great dog,” Laura said, not understanding the undercurrent of emotions she sensed.
“He sure is.”
She took in Adam’s slightly narrowed eyes. He looked as if he was remembering something sweet—and very sad.
When dinner was over and Adam got up to leave for the stone house, Laura noticed that Morton trotted along after him. In the kitchen Katherine poured water from the big white enamel kettle into a dishpan set on the chopping block.
“This is the first time I’ve lived in a place without hot running water,” Laura said.
“Hot water? Up here there are lots of houses that don’t have it. How long have you been in Montana?”
“Four years. I trained as a physical therapist in Missoula, and of course I’ve done a lot of camping since I moved up here. What I mean is, I’ve never actually lived like this.”
Katherine’s kind eyes smiled over her reading glasses. “It is rustic, but at least Adam has a phone and electricity now. He didn’t at one time. We’ve put a few more amenities into our house because we live there full-time. I think Adam wants to keep this place primitive.”
“Where does he live when he’s not up here?” Where does he work? Why has he chosen to recuperate way off in the depths of a national forest? Laura had so many questions about Adam Scott that she hardly knew where to begin.
Katherine took her