Jake's Biggest Risk

Hannah sighed. It was painfully obvious that she had a weakness for restless risk takers. Steven had been a lot like Collin, with the same devil-may-care attitude and hidden demons. And she found Jake Hollister dangerously attractive as well, a response she was determined to squelch. Not that it mattered; he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in the things that mattered to her. Insultingly clear. And she was reasonably sure she hadn’t revealed any sign of her attraction to him to justify a warning.

“I think we should try avocado ice cream,” Gwen said eagerly. “I saw a recipe in a women’s magazine while I was at the dentist’s office.”

Hannah resisted making a face. She liked trying new foods, but the people who lived in Mahalaton Lake were conservative in their tastes, and their summer visitors seemed to feel the same way. “I don’t know if anyone is ready for something that different. Remember the garlic ice cream last year?”

“Oh. Right.” Gwen looked crestfallen. She’d gone to California on vacation with her family and tasted garlic ice cream at the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Inspired, she’d made a gallon for the social, only to throw most of it out. It was one thing to sample garlic ice cream at a garlic festival, another to see it miles from the nearest garlic field. “Maybe I’ll bring something else. Are you making your usual?”

“Yup. Two gallons of wild huckleberry.” Every summer Hannah picked huckleberries in August and September, making jam with some and stowing the rest in the freezer to use throughout the next year, including for the June ice cream social.

“Everybody loves huckleberry.”

“Make strawberry ice cream. Everybody loves that, too,” Hannah suggested.

“But it’s so ordinary.” Gwen had moved to Mahalaton Lake five years ago when her husband, Randy, had been hired as their head of emergency services. Though a born New Yorker, she loved the town; she just got frustrated with the limited culinary tastes of most of the residents.

“Strawberry isn’t ordinary, it’s traditional,” Hannah said firmly, writing strawberry next to Gwen’s name on the ice cream sign-up sheet.

“I don’t know. What if I try anise and—”

“How about pineapple sorbet?” Hannah suggested hastily.

“That sounds good,” Gwen said, brightening.

“Besides, I just remembered that Luigi is donating a gallon of his homemade strawberry gelato.”

“Okay. I can’t compete with his gelato anyway.”

Hannah crossed out strawberry under Gwen’s name and wrote in pineapple sorbet.

She got up and refilled their coffee cups. They were meeting at her place, partly because there wasn’t a single unoccupied surface in Gwen’s home. Her husband always said that his wife had many fine qualities, but housekeeping wasn’t one of them. The planning committee would meet again the next morning, so Hannah and Gwen were putting the final proposal together to save time.

“Thanks.” Gwen poured cream in her coffee.

Hannah glanced out the window and saw Danny talking to Jake Hollister. Her mouth tightened. Before Jake had even arrived in Mahalaton Lake, Danny had heard a lot about the adventuring photographer—not from her, but from his friends and even her own parents. She didn’t want her son developing hero worship for someone with his itchy feet.

“Is that the guy?” Gwen asked, leaning forward and peering out, as well.

They were sitting in the living room of the guesthouse, and the picture windows on both outside walls gave a sweeping view of Huckleberry Lodge and the lake beyond. Danny was chattering away with his usual exuberance, arms flying as he gestured wildly, while Jake leaned on the stair railing, holding a paper bag in his hand and occasionally nodding. Unless you were close enough to see the lines of pain carved around his eyes, you’d never guess he’d recently been in the hospital.

“Yup, Jake Hollister in the flesh.”

“Mmm. Nice flesh, too. I wouldn’t throw him out of bed for getting crumbs on the sheets.”

“Does Randy do that?”

Gwen laughed. “Not since I nagged him out of the habit. Honestly, why do men feel the need to eat popcorn in bed?”

“Got me.” Hannah hadn’t been married long enough to have come to many conclusions about men, other than she didn’t want to be married to the wrong one again. Her son was the only positive thing to come out of her marriage.

“Well, you’re lucky to have such a cute guy living next door.” All at once Gwen got a speculative expression on her face. “I wonder if he’d be interested in working on one of the fund-raisers for the rescue squad. He’s so famous, it might attract more people than usual.”

Hannah cringed, thinking how Jake might react to the idea. “He’s got a reputation for being a loner, so I doubt he’s a small-town, community-service-project sort of guy.”

“Have you gotten to know him yet?”

She hesitated. “Not exactly. We’ve only spoken a few times. I’ll be cleaning house over there twice a week.”

“I hope he pays well. Not to be a hypocrite considering my own limitations as a housekeeper, but my sister claims some artists can be slobs.”

Hannah mentally agreed, recalling the scattered pizza boxes and red jam dripping from Great-Aunt Elkie’s sandstone countertop. Her second cleaning session was that afternoon, and she dreaded thinking about what else he’d done to the place.

“Uh, the pay is okay.”

But the company isn’t, she added mutely. Luckily, she and Danny were probably the only ones in Mahalaton Lake who’d had to face his questionable manners. Barbi had obviously delivered pizza several times, but Jake’s shiny new SUV hadn’t moved since the day he’d arrived, so he hadn’t gone into town and offended anyone there.

“I’ve been thinking,” Gwen said. “If Mr. Hollister did agree to be involved, we could have a photo booth at the Christmas in August festival, or at one of the other fund-raisers. I bet people would pay a lot to have their portrait done by a famous photographer. It would be easy to do with computers and printers being so portable.”

Hannah nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. “He’s not that kind of photographer, Gwen. His time in the Middle East was an anomaly. From everything I’ve read, he does extreme nature and wild-animal stuff, not people.”

Gwen grinned. “What do you call my twins? Spending time with them is definitely taking a walk on the wild side.”

“They’re not so bad.”

“Ha. Mrs. Gardiner refuses to have them both in her preschool class this fall. She claims they get into eight times as much trouble when they’re together. It’s true, of course, but apparently it’s the first time she’s ever refused a student.”

“She isn’t as young as she used to be. As for the portraits, you’re welcome to ask Jake to participate if you want to, but I prefer being left out of it. I...uh, don’t want things to be awkward if he says no. You know, since he’s living in the lodge.”

Dealing with Jake would be tough enough without offending his artistic pride, and Hannah already had reason to think he was a snob when it came to his work. He’d called taking photos of the Cascades “fluff.” Not to mention describing them as commonplace and boring—it was like saying anyone who lived here was commonplace and boring.

She couldn’t imagine he’d explored the Cascade Mountains enough to know much about them. He’d just assumed that because they’d been well photographed, they weren’t worth his precious time. Yet in her opinion, nobody had ever captured their unique spirit. However much she disliked Jake, he was a great photographer—if he wanted, he could do something amazing.

“I might approach him with the idea,” Gwen said thoughtfully. “If only to make Randy jealous.”

“I didn’t think he got jealous.”

“He doesn’t. And it’s kind of annoying.”

Hannah shook her head. Gwen and Randy Westfield were the most mismatched couple she could imagine—and absolutely devoted to each other. Gwen was a willowy brunette beauty, while her husband was four inches shorter, stocky, sandy-haired and pleasant looking, rather than handsome. They had a wonderful marriage, with Randy gently amused at his wife’s flights of fancy and Gwen gamely accepting the uncertainties of life with a husband in a high-risk job.

Hannah didn’t think she could do it herself, but Gwen was proud of Randy and did everything possible to support his work. Of course, there was a big difference between someone who risked his life helping others, and someone who was just looking for an adrenaline rush like Collin and Jake Hollister.

“You wouldn’t change a hair on Randy’s balding head, and you know it,” she said, pushing the thought away. She didn’t actually know Jake was an adrenaline junkie, though the articles she’d read about him had suggested he had a near-death wish.

Gwen gave her a happy smile. “Nope, but it’s fun to tease.”

They went on making plans for the social, but Hannah’s mind was only partly on the discussion. Jake had gone back into Huckleberry Lodge and Danny was throwing a stick for Badger to retrieve. He looked up and she motioned for him to come inside.

A minute later the door opened and Badger came bounding in ahead of Danny.

“Danny, what did I tell you about leaving Mr. Hollister alone?” Hannah asked him.

“It’s okay, Mommy, he talked to me first. I brought him a loaf of bread and he gave me five dollars to thank us.” He handed her a bill. “Um, Badger and me are real hungry. Can we have a cheese sandwich? Please?”

Hannah put the money in her pocket. “It’ll have to be cheese and apples since you gave Mr. Hollister our bread. Please talk to me before selling any more food to him. I’ll fix lunch later.” She gave Danny a plate of apple quarters and sliced cheese and returned to the dining room. “Can I get you anything, Gwen?”

“I’m fine. Randy asked if your mother is bringing her peach cobbler to the social. It’s his favorite.”

“Yes, and she’s making vanilla ice cream.”

“He’ll be thrilled. He says it’s even better than his mom makes.” She looked at her watch. “Oops, better go. The babysitter can only take the boys in limited doses.”

When Gwen had gone, Hannah sat down and looked at her list. She needed to go shopping, but it would have to wait. Being out of bread wasn’t a big deal, and at least she now knew what had happened to the loaf in the garage freezer.

She was pretty sure the leftover Thai chicken she’d cooked on Tuesday had also traveled over to Huckleberry Lodge, thanks to Danny’s generous heart. The plastic container was nowhere to be found, and her son was still at the age where he asked for food instead of trolling through the refrigerator like a hungry vacuum cleaner. However, he was capable of deciding to bring leftovers to their neighbor.

She’d considered speaking to Danny about it, but she liked that he was concerned for other people’s well-being—even obnoxious photographers.

* * *

JAKE DROPPED TWO slices of the bread Danny Nolan had brought him into the toaster. Maybe he should have talked to Hannah before accepting it, but Danny had said it was okay. Besides, he’d given the youngster money, making him promise to get the cash to his mother.

When Hannah came over later he’d have to ask if she would take care of grocery shopping for him. Though considering her reaction when he’d teased her about doing his laundry, the answer would probably be no.

It was nice that Danny wasn’t proving to be the problem Jake had expected. He’d encountered kids in his travels, of course. They were fascinated that a captured image could be seen instantly with the digital equipment he favored. Josie, on the other hand, despised the new technology, saying the old cameras and film were the true art. Jake didn’t agree; it was simply a different kind of art. Still, he had to admit it was a pain having to recharge his camera batteries, especially in the remote parts of the world where he preferred working. He had a solar-powered charger, modified for his particular needs, but it wasn’t as convenient as plugging into an electric outlet.

Well...Toby had taken care of charging batteries and shuffling equipment the past eight years. Working without him was going to mean changes; the question was whether to replace Toby or go solo again. Solo was probably best; he could never replace Toby, with all his cursing and complaining and unquestioned loyalty.

The toaster popped, and Jake smeared butter on both slices of bread. He sprinkled sugar and cinnamon over the top, only to hear the front doorbell ring before he could take a bite.

Frowning, he limped toward the front door. He’d told Hannah she could come in without knocking or ringing, though he didn’t really expect her to do it. Jake opened the door, but instead of his landlady, he saw a broad-shouldered man holding an athletic bag with Lower Mahalaton Rehab Center emblazoned on the side.

“Mr. Hollister? I’m Owen Kershaw, your physical therapist, here for our eleven o’clock appointment.”

Crap.

Jake belatedly remembered his first rehab session was that morning. He was tempted to say he didn’t feel like company, but he’d never get better if he didn’t work his ass off.

“Uh, hello. Please call me Jake.”

Owen didn’t try shaking hands, he marched in with his bag and a folding table and motioned toward the kitchen. “I noticed a room with lots of windows on that side of the house. Is there enough space to work in there?”

“Probably.”

“Excellent. We’ll have to be prompt about starting and ending our sessions. I scheduled extra time today because it’s your first appointment, but from now on I’ll need to leave shortly after twelve so I can be back at the clinic by one.”

He walked toward the sunroom as Jake snorted. Why was the guy so uptight about coming to the lodge? He was getting paid well for the extra travel time.

Owen disappeared into the kitchen. “What is this?” he demanded a moment later.

Jake limped through the swinging door and saw the therapist pointing to the cinnamon toast with an accusing finger. “Breakfast.”

“It’s eleven o’clock. You haven’t eaten yet?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Nutrition. The bread is fine—that particular brand is made from whole grain without a bunch of crap added to it. But sugar and butter won’t help your body heal and rebuild muscle. You need protein and fruits and vegetables, as well as whole grains.”

“Whatever.” Jake grabbed the bread bag and the plate of toast and shoved them into the refrigerator. Okay, he’d known cinnamon toast wasn’t the best meal in the world, but he could order a vegetarian pizza later in the day to make up for it. “Let’s get busy.”

Owen pulled something from his bag and handed it to him. “Eat this first. It’s a protein bar.”

Two hours later Jake was soaked with sweat and feeling as if he’d gone mountain climbing. He was also grateful for the protein bar, however hideous it had tasted. Not that the exercises had been as strenuous as hiking across an ice field loaded down with photographic equipment, but they were proof that he had a long way to go in his recovery.

“Excellent,” Owen said, smiling for the first time. “Some of my patients find it difficult doing what I ask, but the real proof will be whether you do the exercises between our sessions.”

“I’ll do them.” Jake wiped his face, perspiring as much from pain as from the workout. But he didn’t want to take a pill; the damned painkillers messed with his head. The hot tub, on the other hand...

While he wasn’t wild about many parts of the industrial world, the hot tub was a guilty pleasure. Sliding into the warm, swirling water when his body ached was one of the things he actually enjoyed here at Huckleberry Lodge. Sheltered from wind by Plexiglas on the railings, the private deck off the master bedroom still had a view of the lake, and at night, with the lights off, he could almost imagine he was in a natural hot spring, somewhere far away.

Through the window he saw Hannah come down her steps and cross to the lodge with Danny alongside. She was carrying a large bag, probably containing the sheets and towels she’d taken on Tuesday. Jake locked gazes with her as they came up the back steps to the sunroom.

“Come in,” he called.

Hannah opened the door and smiled when she saw Owen Kershaw. “Hi, Owen, remember me?”

The therapist grinned. “Hannah Nolan. Of course I remember. Your great-aunt was one of my favorite patients. What are you doing here?”

“This was Great-Aunt Elkie’s house. She passed away after I graduated from college and left Huckleberry Lodge to me. I’ve leased it to Jake. Owen, this is my son, Danny.”

“Hi, Danny.” Owen shook hands with the youngster. “I have something for you,” he said, and pulled something out of his athletic bag that looked like a tropical clown fish.

“That’s just like Nemo,” Danny declared.

“It’s made from a special kind of sponge rubber. My patients squeeze them to build strength in their hands and arms,” Owen explained, and Danny promptly began squeezing the toy with all his might.

“Does everybody know each other in Mahalaton Lake and Lower Mahalaton?” Jake asked.

Hannah shrugged. “No, but Owen works at the only rehab center in fifty miles—anybody who’s ever needed physical therapy has gone there. My great-aunt broke her hip when I was sixteen and stayed at the center for several weeks, then we drove down for her physical therapy sessions. That was when she put in the hot tub.”

“Hot tub?” Owen looked concerned. “I have questions about the chemicals they require, so just be sure to shower after using it.”

Jake was glad the therapist hadn’t tried to stop him. No way would he give up the hot tub. It might feel strange to enjoy something so far out of his chosen lifestyle, but it was better than the alternative.

“It doesn’t use chemicals—it has one of those reverse osmosis cleaning systems. And it’s serviced regularly,” Hannah assured. “I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. Do you have kids?”

The therapist’s face lit up. “We’ve got two boys who run us ragged. They’re four and five. And Cheryl is pregnant again. If you’re interested, I’ll bring pictures the next time I’m here.”

“I’d love to see them.”

Owen looked at his watch and picked up his bag and the folding table. “I’m late. It was a pleasure meeting you, Danny. Take care, Hannah.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll be back at eleven on Tuesday,” Owen said to Jake.

“Nemo?” Jake asked Hannah when the other man was gone.

“He’s a character in an animated movie, about a little clown fish and its father. One of Danny’s favorites.”

“Nemo gets kidnapped and his dad goes looking for him through the whole ocean,” Danny said. “Mommy, do you think my daddy is looking for me? Maybe he got lost and doesn’t remember where we live.”

Hannah’s face froze. “Your father isn’t... That is, he knows we’re here in Mahalaton Lake. He just travels a lot. Now we need to start cleaning the house.”

Danny stuck the toy in his pocket. “I’ll get the trash. That’s my job.”

When he was gone, Hannah put her chin up with an air of defiance as she turned to Jake. “You said it was all right to bring him, and he likes to feel he’s helping me.”

Exhausted, Jake sank down on a chair. “It’s fine. Does Danny ask about his father much?”

“He’s starting to more and more. But how do you explain to a seven-year-old boy that his dad is a womanizing ba...” She stopped and visibly drew a breath. “Never mind.”

“Sure. Oh, did Danny give you the money for the loaf of bread?”

A flicker of emotion crossed her face, though he couldn’t guess the reason. “Yes.”

“I appreciate him bringing it over. I started thinking about it afterward and realized I should have asked first. He also brought me some chicken. Thank you.”

“Thank Danny. It was entirely his idea. Now, please excuse me, I have work to do.”

Jake decided this wasn’t the right time to ask about the grocery shopping. He slumped deeper in his chair and closed his eyes, his body throbbing with the effort he’d put into the therapy. But he refused to lie down. Given their testy relationship, he didn’t want to appear weak in front of Hannah. Or maybe it was the age-old vanity of men in most societies, hating to appear less than virile in front of a woman. Especially such a beautiful woman.

There were noises around the house now. Domestic noises. Very different from what he’d hear in the highland villages of Nepal above Kathmandu, or deep in the Amazon. Yet it seemed as if there was a common rhythm to housework. Sweeping. Washing. Tidying. Even Danny’s voice, asking his mother what else he could do, wasn’t unlike the chatter of children in the dozens of cultures Jake had experienced from the day he was born.

It was better than the silence of the past few days, he thought, and far better than the echoes of the plane crash that still roared in his ears at the oddest moments.

* * *

THE TWO PIZZA boxes Jake had said to leave on Tuesday were on the kitchen floor, and Hannah stuffed them in a bag. Danny cheerfully took the bag out to the garbage cans.

Sugar was spilled across the counter and onto the floor as well, and she swept it up, thinking of what Gwen had said about some artists being slobs.

Maybe, maybe not.

However, it appeared that if something fell on the floor, Jake simply left it there, and she found it hard to believe that was a common custom in other parts of the world. Of course, it could be because of his injuries—it might be hard to bend over and pick something up. But when she went into the bathroom and saw the mess on the countertops and sinks, Hannah decided to go with slob.

She scrubbed everything, keeping Andy Bedard’s comments in mind about the need to keep everything sanitized. Andy was nice, a regular mother hen. And unlike some of the skiers who’d rented the lodge in the past, he and his guests always left things in good order.

After two hours, Hannah tied the dirty linens into a bundle, belatedly realizing she hadn’t seen Danny in a while. She found him sitting cross-legged on the couch in the sunroom, listening to her tenant recount a story about trekking into the Australian outback. Danny’s eyes were round with excitement as Jake described hanging over the water from a tree branch, taking photos of prowling crocodiles who’d like nothing better than to have him for lunch.

“Were you scared?” he asked.

Jake shrugged carelessly. “Not really.”

“I bet they could bite me in half.”

“Maybe not in half, but they’ve got really powerful jaws and can drag a grown man under—”

“Danny, I’m done. Can you take the laundry over to our house?” Hannah interrupted hastily.

“Okay,” Danny agreed, though he looked torn.

When he’d clattered down the steps from the sunroom, Hannah turned to Jake. “Look, I appreciate your being friendly to my son, but he’s prone to nightmares. Besides, a child his age doesn’t need to know the details of how a crocodile could kill him.”

“Hey, I saw my first wild croc when I was four,” Jake said defensively, though he also seemed to be embarrassed. “It never gave me nightmares. And after that we spent several months on an African savannah while Josie photographed a lion pride.”

“Josie?”

“My mother.”

“Okay, fine. That was her decision. But I’m worried about Danny waking up at two in the morning, screaming bloody murder because he thinks a crocodile has climbed into his bed.”

Jake winced. “Sorry. I don’t know anything about kids.”

“I understand that, but please keep in mind that certain things shouldn’t be talked about in front of an impressionable child. Besides, I bet you did have nightmares—you just don’t remember.”

“If I did, they obviously didn’t scar me for life.”

Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Being scarred for life was a matter of opinion. Jake seemed to lead a solitary existence where taking high-risk photographs was more important than human contact. Perhaps she was biased, but even the greatest photograph in the world wasn’t worth dying to get.