Last Summer: A Novel Page 10

  He said they spent two weeks together. Why had Damien and Rebecca told her otherwise?

  He called her El. Only Damien does that, and she isn’t sure how that makes her feel.

  His eyes teared up when she told him about her accident. Her story hit a chord. Ella could have sworn he wanted to hold her, offer comfort.

  “Who are you, Nathan Donovan?”

  And what role does he play in her memory loss?

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, her skin prickles as an eerie sensation, something akin to déjà vu, falls over her. Nathan stands in the middle of the driveway, arms at his sides, watching her.

  Ella picks up dinner and checks into the lodge. It’s after 7:30 p.m. when she settles in. She wants to call Damien, but his flight doesn’t land in Heathrow until after 2:00 a.m. her time. She texts instead, requesting that he call her when he gets to their flat. She wants his confirmation about the time she spent with Nathan last summer. Fourteen days on one assignment is a long time. One would think she was working on a biography, not a ten-thousand-word article.

  Her conversation with Nathan left her bewildered and his familiarity with her uneasy. The sooner she can finish the interview and question Nathan about last summer, the sooner she can join Damien in London. He doesn’t expect to be home for a couple of weeks, what with the investigation, so she promised this morning she’d meet him there after her assignment.

  She already misses her husband, the deep timbre of his voice and the warmth of his body. She misses the way he was before her accident. The little things he’d do to show that he loved her. The phone call in the middle of the afternoon because he wanted to hear her voice, make her laugh as he told her a silly story about something that happened at work. The coffee mug and stainless steel filter he’d leave on the counter for her pour-over coffee after he left for the day on those mornings she slept in. The bunches of daisies he’d buy on a whim as he passed the floral cart on his walk home at the end of the day. Or the way he’d look at her when they went out, as though he couldn’t believe she was there with him. Or that she stayed, as he asked of her that first morning together and other mornings since.

  Of course she’d stayed that first time. She was already falling in love with him. And she’s so in love with him right now, despite their tragedy and lack of communication.

  They’ll get through this. She knows they will. Their love is strong. They are a team.

  Setting aside her phone, Ella boots up her laptop and pores over the notes she wrote yesterday about Nathan, reorganizing. They have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow from his youth to his marriage to Stephanie. For the more involved lifestyle pieces, Ella likes to understand how her subjects tick, and to do that, she has to delve into their childhood.

  CHAPTER 12

  Ella wakes at 6:00 a.m. more tired than she felt before going to bed. The altitude does that to her. It always takes a day or two to acclimate.

  She yawns and stretches, then gets out of bed. After a quick shower and a stop at the café across from the lodge, where she picks up a coffee and breakfast sandwich, chugging a Red Bull along with, Ella arrives at Nathan’s promptly at 8:00 a.m. Pulling to a stop in his drive, she cuts the engine. Two large dogs charge the car. Rising up on their hind legs, they peek in her window and, seeing Ella, start barking. Madly.

  Ella’s heart lodges in her throat. She eases down the window a few inches and yells, “Sit!”

  Her command doesn’t do squat. If anything, it aggravates them. Spittle foams at their mouths.

  Lovely. She’s the red shirt ensign in a Star Trek episode. An extra in Cujo. She’s going to die.

  Scanning the yard, she searches for their owner. Where is Nathan?

  She goes to dial his number only to notice the lack of bars on her phone. No cell service. Wonderful.

  A whistle pierces her ear. Furry heads rotate on shoulders and large, triangular ears angle forward. To Ella’s relief, Nathan’s first line of defense lopes back to the house, stopping at Nathan’s feet, where he stands on the porch watching Ella. A big, shit-eating grin lights up his face. Ella’s face, on the other hand, is white, completely void of blood, which pools in her feet.

  Scowling, she gets out of the car and slams the door. “Don’t even try scaring me off. I’m not leaving.”

  “I didn’t expect you would.”

  The dogs whine at Nathan’s feet. Tails wagging, their eyes lock on her.

  Her pulse beats in her throat. She keeps her hand on the door handle, ready to dive back into the car if they charge her again. “Do you have them under control?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then what’s their problem?” Those dogs need to calm down.

  “They’re excited to see you. It’s been a while.”

  She presses back against her car. “I’ve met your dogs?”

  “You love my dogs. Come inside.” He waves her over. “I have coffee ready.”

  Taking a deep breath, she grabs her things from the car and approaches the dogs. She lets them sniff her hand. They look up at her with dopey eyes and toothy smiles. She pats their heads and scratches behind their ears, and that’s it. They’re done with her. She’s old news. Following their noses, they wander off the porch, sniffing a trail on the ground.

  “What breed are they?”

  “Malamute. The big one over there is Fred and the other guy is Bing.”

  “Let me guess, you like big band music.”

  He takes offense. “I like the classics, you know that.”

  “I don’t remember. Sorry,” she says, and she means it. The next couple of days will be a trial for them both.

  Nathan drags his hands over his jaw. “No, I’m sorry. I assume you remember stuff, and . . .”

  “And what?” she prompts when his voice stalls.

  He lets his arms fall. “It’s not going to be easy talking about this again.”

  “You mean talking about your son?”

  He nods. “I didn’t expect to rehash everything. I figured we’d pick up where we left off. Wrap things up. Be patient with me?”

  “One condition,” she offers, repeating his words from yesterday. “You’re patient with me. Pretend we just met.”

  “That’s two conditions.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Okay. Two conditions.”

  “I can live with that.”

  She shares his smile and he opens the front door, inviting her inside. Fred and Bing follow.

  “For the record,” he says when she crosses the threshold, “I do like big band music. And Elvis, and the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Hendrix, Steppenwolf, the Doors. In case you want to make me a playlist or something.”

  Ella smiles. He’s funny, though his humor is a tad dry. Letting his dogs loose on her hadn’t been coincidence or an accident.

  She takes in Nathan’s house. High above, an open beam ceiling angles upward. The living, dining, and kitchen areas, decorated in natural materials and neutral tones, share one space on the main level. Stairs lead up to an open loft that faces the canyon and next mountainous rise. She can see a desk and computer monitor and feels a little comfort that she’s not completely off the grid. She bets he has Wi-Fi. She’ll have to ask him for the password. Another set of stairs leads down to what Ella assumes are the bedrooms.

  The house is well crafted, the design impressive. But the most stunning aspect is the view outside the A-shaped patchwork of windows that bookend a stone fireplace, the flue yawning skyward through the ceiling.

  Beyond the windows, a crystal-blue, cloudless sky bathes snow-drenched mountains. White firs and Jeffrey pines freckle the landscape. Being late March, the snowpack has melted in spots, exposing dirt and granite underneath, but for the most part, the mountains are still a winter wonderland.

  “Your home is beautiful,” Ella says, joining Nathan in the kitchen area.

  “Thanks,” he says, working an espresso machine.

  “That’s a fancy coffee maker for a guy who prefers cooking over campfi
res.”

  His brow lifts. “You do remember something about me.”

  “No such luck. I read it in Outside.”

  “Here I thought my charismatic personality brought it all back to you.” Ella’s lip quirks and Nathan smiles. “As for the coffee”—he turns a dial and steamed milk pours into a mug—“I take it seriously.” He nods in the direction of the table. “Have a seat.”

  Ella drops her bag on the table, removes her laptop and voice recorder, and sits. Nathan brings over a steaming mug. He didn’t ask Ella how she takes her coffee when she has a fancy option, but one sip of the vanilla latte tells her it’s perfect. Exactly as she would have requested.

  Because he knows her.

  “Thank you,” Ella murmurs. She clears her throat, calling on her willpower to keep her hands from trembling. She doesn’t want Nathan to see her nerves. But he probably already senses her unease. He’s a guy who relies on his instincts for survival, and he’s had a lifetime to hone his. He detects nuances others don’t pick up. And from the way he’s studying her, he’s picking up on something.

  Ella pushes out a breath and gives him a reassuring smile. But he doesn’t join her at the table. He leans back against the counter, ankles crossed and left hand tucked into his pants’ front pocket. He drinks his coffee and continues to watch her.

  “So . . . how do you want to do this?” she asks. “Sit here or over there?” She gestures at the L-shaped leather couch. It’s deep, sturdy, and well worn. A perfect fit within the home’s aesthetics.

  “Outside,” he says.

  “Outside?” Ella glances out the windows behind her. It’s cold out there. Is he crazy?

  “I thought we’d go for a hike.”

  In the snow? He’s certifiably insane.

  Of course his dogs don’t share Ella’s sentiment, clearly knowing the word hike the way a city dog would know the word walk. Sitting by the front door, they whine, excited, tails thumping, front paws prancing. Bing picks up his water pack and gives it a good shake. Another water pack, Fred’s, rests against a compact backpack. Nathan has everything set and ready to go.

  “There’s snow.” Ella states the obvious.

  “Yeah,” he remarks like it’s no big deal. “The trail’s relatively flat and the snow’s worn down. We’ll be fine. The dogs and I hiked it the other day.”

  She stares at him. “You’re serious about this?”

  “Completely.”

  “I—I’m not dressed to hike,” she sputters. Any other day and under any other circumstance, she’d be game for an adventure. But up here, she’s isolated with a man she has a shared history with. What if she ticked him off last summer and he plans to push her off a cliff?

  Don’t be ridiculous, El.

  She imagines Damien laughing at her, shaking his head. He’d then kiss her and reassure her she has nothing to worry about. People know she’s here. Nathan wouldn’t do something stupid, not when she’s the one he invited up here to help him. He wants an article in Luxe Avenue specifically, not Outside, a more logical choice given his audience. Ella intends to find out why.

  Nathan eyes her attire: turtleneck sweater, skinny jeans, and calf-high leather boots. “Hold on a second.” He crosses the expansive room and goes downstairs.

  Ella looks at the dogs. “Is he always like this?” Going places and doing things? She doubts she can convince him to sit still for the length of time she anticipates for their chats.

  Fred lets out a yelp. Bing shimmies closer to the door so that his side is plastered to the wood like Velcro. His jaw clamps on to his water pack.

  “Guess that’s a yes.”

  Ella packs up her laptop and slips the recorder into her pocket. Today’s interview will be conducted on the go.

  Nathan returns. He sets a pile of folded clothes and a jacket on the table in front of her. Drops a pair of hiking boots at her feet. Ella peeks at the size on the hiking pants and her stomach turns over. She doesn’t have to look at the number inside the boots to know they’re an eight-and-a-half. She can just tell. She also knows Nathan’s wife is petite. These items don’t belong to Stephanie Donovan.

  Her heart knocks against her chest. Her hands grow clammy.

  “It isn’t coincidence that these are my size, is it?” she asks, keeping her tone steady.

  “Nope. They’re yours.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Mine?”

  Ella sits there and stares dumbly at the clothes. She doesn’t recognize them. She doesn’t remember purchasing or wearing them. The feeling is similar to what she felt several months back when she boxed her maternity clothes and put them in storage. It’s as though they belong to someone else.

  “You took them backpacking and then left them with me,” Nathan says, nodding toward the clothes and boots. “You wanted to keep them here, just in case.”

  Just in case of what? Ella lifts the pants to look at the long-sleeved white hiking shirt underneath. Not only did they hike together, but they clearly shopped for this outfit. How comfortable had they been with each other?

  “Come on, we’re wasting daylight.” Nathan claps loudly. The sound echoes off the high walls. “Ready, boys?”

  Fred and Bing bark enthusiastically.

  “You can change in the bathroom. It’s over . . . there.” He points past the staircase and takes a second glance at her. “Hey, you okay?”

  She looks at him, then presses her abdomen to settle her nerves. Nathan’s gaze drops to her hand. He swears.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Concern softens his features. He gestures at her midriff. “Can you hike?”

  She frowns. “What?”

  “It’s an easy hike. Slight incline. Shouldn’t be too strenuous considering you . . . um. Your . . .” He draws a line across his pelvis.

  She realizes she’s holding her hand directly over her scar. “Oh.” She’s been running up to eight miles four days a week for almost two months. She’s conditioned, but of course Nathan doesn’t know that. She lets her hand slide away. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “The clothes. They caught me by surprise. I don’t remember them or your house.”

  He nods. “We’ll take it slow. You aren’t acclimated. The dogs and I usually make it there and back in just under three hours. There’s a spot I want to show you. We can talk there and have lunch before we head back.”

  Ella picks up the clothes and boots. Looks like they’re going for a hike. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time. I have to get the dogs ready.”

  In the bathroom, Ella quickly changes. She wants to call Damien, check in with him. He said before she left that he didn’t know much about the interview, which is understandable. Ella wouldn’t have gone into specifics about what she and Nathan discussed. Everything’s confidential until it goes to print. But what about everything else they did together? Would Damien know for how long they hiked and where? What about what she and Nathan did after? Ella can’t imagine she’d spent the entire fourteen days on the trail. She’s all for being adventurous, but two weeks without a shower and a good meal is extreme even for her.

  Ella pulls out her phone, then remembers she doesn’t have cell service. Without Nathan’s Wi-Fi password, she can’t even use FaceTime audio. She looks at the time and does a quick calculation. It’s early evening in London. Has Damien tried to reach her since she left the hotel?

  She knows he’s upset she took the assignment. Over coffee yesterday morning, Damien admitted he was finally ready to talk, just come to London with him. Ella wants to talk with him, desperately so, but it upsets her that it took an assignment from Luxe Avenue to make it happen. Almost as if he’d been backed into a corner and had no choice.

  Whatever motivated him, whether the interview with Nathan or Damien finally working through his issues with a vigorous workout, Ella had no choice but to meet with Nathan. Only he knows exactly what happened between them when they were on the trail. El
la also has to consider her job. Rebecca’s counting on her, and Paul is breathing down Rebecca’s neck. She had to come to Truckee.

  Nathan is inspecting his daypack when Ella joins him by the front door. He’s packed food, water, and emergency supplies.

  “Never hike in an isolated area without a compass, SAT radio, medical kit, and a flashlight with a fresh set of batteries,” he instructs her like he would one of his celebrity guests on Off the Grid! “I also pack foil rescue blankets. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to get lost up here. Something can go wrong like that”—he snaps his fingers—“and no one would know.”

  “You aren’t going to off me or something, are you?” She laughs nervously, slipping on her gloves.

  He zips up a pocket and shoulders the pack. “Don’t worry. You’re in capable hands.”

  Strong, wide hands with a dusting of dark hair, she notices. Hands that can do any number of things. She quickly glances away, self-conscious of her reaction. Yeah, he’s hot, but to get hot and bothered from just looking at his hands?

  Not cool, Skye.

  Nathan opens the door. Fred and Bing, water packs strapped to their backs, bound outside and round the house. Habit tells them the direction they’re headed.

  The trail, a slim path that winds through the trees, starts at the edge of Nathan’s property and steadily climbs in elevation. The dogs run ahead, pausing every so often to sniff a rock or tree trunk. They walk for over an hour, Ella behind Nathan, their conversation minimal. The narrow trail makes carrying on a conversation difficult, to Ella’s frustration, since they can’t walk side by side. She tries not to think about how they’re wasting valuable time.

  Nathan keeps up a manageable pace, hands gripping the daypack’s shoulder straps. He wears a wool beanie pulled over his ears. Dark hair, longer than the cropped cut he had on TV, curls up from underneath the cap’s edge. He glances at the sky and inhales deeply through his nose. He visibly relaxes with each breath.