Sunburst

of coffee in her hands.

“Real tidal waves,” he insisted, as he looked over the shoreline. “A while ago down in Chicago, Lake Michigan surged up and over the banks so far they had to stop traffic-”

“You’re kidding,” she said disbelievingly.

“And then there was the Carl Bradley. A limestone carrier, a good six hundred feet long, carrying a full cargo near Gull Island. It not only sank, it was broken completely in two. The captain lived,” Kyle said musingly. “He said it was a tidal wave that broke his ship apart. Waves up to sixty feet high…”

Involuntarily, Erica shivered. The image was suddenly there in her mind, of the storm and the people caught in it, helpless. It seemed so much a part of this bleak, haunted beach with its lighthouse trying to save people’s lives. The waters were right in front of her eyes-so brilliant, dancing in the sunlight. It was an absolutely perfect summer day with the sky of aquamarine and the sands spangled with an almost iridescent brightness… It seemed impossible that the lake had so much potential for betrayal, for treachery and tragedy.

“Tell me about that summer you went treasure hunting,” she said suddenly. “How you found this place. What you were looking for. What ever gave you the idea there was treasure here?”

“History,” he answered her last question, as he got up to start putting away the breakfast things. “Six thousand ships were wrecked on the Great Lakes in one twenty-year period. Of course, most of them have been salvaged, but not all. Four ships in particular were lost right off these waters at Vermilion and never found. The Kamloops was the biggest, with five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of cargo, never recovered. Generally a finders-keepers law applies to sunken treasure, and anyone can discover it after others have tried to salvage and failed.”

“So you researched it first?” she asked curiously.

Kyle nodded, starting to douse the small fire with sand. “It was fun, exciting, and the search yielded absolutely nothing. At the time, Morgan’s father had promised me a job, and I figured I could afford three weeks off, even with the cost of school. At nineteen…” Kyle hesitated, then turned to stare at her. “At nineteen, all I wanted was to get rich quick. At any cost.”

“And you’ve judged yourself harshly for that ever since,” she said swiftly, and stood up, too. Before he could say anything else, she snatched up the nearly empty coffee pot and carted it down to the water. He followed her with the two cups, which was unfortunate. Because when he was right next to her again, she couldn’t keep her mouth closed. She stood straight up once more, with the coffee pot in her hand. “You didn’t desert your father, Kyle. And you were never responsible for his being unhappy.”

“Look. Erica-”

She smiled, ignoring the forbidding look in his eyes. “Let’s go see the lighthouse.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He took a breath. “Because I want you to see it from the top at sunset.” He threw an arm around her shoulders, and they carted their few dishes back to the makeshift fire. He pressed his lips hard against her temples, swift and rough. “Shut up, Erica. Leave it all. Let’s just have a good day.”

She couldn’t imagine why or how that happened, but it did. That Kyle went out of his way not to touch her should have dampened those hours… Well, it did. So did knowing they were both skirting every issue that was important to them, like children avoiding facing up to a problem. What they had to laugh about, Erica had no idea. But they did laugh.

They were together and alone without responsibilities for an entire day, a combination that proved irresistible; Erica had always found the simplest pleasure in just being with him, and Kyle’s only wish seemed to be for her to enjoy herself. He drove the short distance to Tahquamenon Falls, showing her Hiawatha country as he’d promised. Tumbling waterfalls cascaded from sheer rock cliffs, nestled in virgin forest, all lush green and fragrant with summer scents.

One could rent a rowboat there, to paddle around the half dozen falls. Erica told Kyle she was a qualified oarswoman, and when he took her at her word, they nearly cascaded over one of the falls. As it was, he ended up paddling furiously against white water while people screamed at them from the shore. Drenched and laughing they finally returned to Vermilion.

Tamer sports seemed a better idea; the day had turned sultry. Fishing from the shore? It seemed reasonable enough. Fishing poles weren’t all that hard to rig up, but the only bait seemed to be worms they dug from the floor of the woods. Erica tried to bait the hook. She didn’t mind spiders and bees, but worms just weren’t her cup of tea.

The fishing wasn’t particularly successful. Having started at the warmest, most somnolent time in the sunny afternoon, it seemed more natural for them to rest on the sand with one hand balancing the pole. There were fish out there. They liked the worms. The napping fishermen just failed to reel them in.

They didn’t seem to be concentrating too hard on living off the land, and the next problem they faced was starvation. Granola bars and raisins went only so far. Laziness had become infectious, and neither one of them really wanted to leave this private little wilderness; they had to bully each other into preparing a meal. They grilled hamburger over an open fire as the sun went down, then toasted marshmallows, which they ate as they sipped their wine. Both had cast-iron stomachs. A blessing.

By the time dinner was over, their laughter was muted with tiredness. They were both content to lie down on their sleeping bags, watching the fire die down, watching the stars take on added brilliance. A crescent moon hung low and lazy, and the steady lap of the lake against the shore created a hypnotic rhythm of private promises.

It was so natural for her to want to touch him. The night belonged to the senses, and the day had been full of pleasures. Instinctively, Erica’s hand reached out to touch Kyle’s. Just as instinctively, his larger hand curved around hers, his thumb gently stroking her wrist. For a moment, it was fine. Closing her eyes, she could feel the warm current flow between them. It changed only gradually to something warmer, more restless, like a slow rush of flame where their fingers touched. Kyle’s hand tightened in hers.

Just as fast as the flame had taken hold, it was extinguished. He jerked up suddenly, leaning forward, staring at the black waters of the lake lapping so gently on the shore.

She stared at the slope of his back for only a second before he spoke. “I think I’ll walk for a while, Erica.”

Without you.

No, sweetheart, she thought. We’re not going to end another day with both of us unable to sleep. “I’m tired, but not quite tired enough to sleep. Have one more glass of wine with me before you go?”

He conceded to that. She poured his wine, a nice full cup. She leaned back as he did, careful not to touch him. A shooting star cascaded down into the depths of the lake, lost like a single spark of fireworks. The whole beach had turned golden by starlight, dark treasures of shadows and hollows in the sand. Kyle’s eyes were shuttered at half-mast, not closed.

He didn’t want to go for a walk. He didn’t want to risk touching her, she thought idly, feeling like a general fighting a war without troops. The loneliness frightened her. Maybe it was Morgan. But maybe it was just that Kyle really didn’t want to get close again. Ever.

She was willing to fight, but it was so…hard. Kyle didn’t move when she stirred a few feet from him, to unroll the sleeping bag she’d been using as a pillow.

“Sleepy now?” he murmured.

“Very.”

She’d never been less sleepy in her entire life.

Chapter 14

Erica took a slow walk into the woods and stood in the pitch-black shadows of the trees. He couldn’t see her; she knew that, and she took a long time, pulling off her shirt and jeans, then slowly removing her panties and bra. A thousand things were in her mind, a restless kaleidoscope of uncertainties.

She’d taken too long to tell him about Morgan; now she didn’t know how.