Mountains Apart

She forced her eyes to focus on something, and for some reason they landed upon the deep cleft in his chin, which was slightly off-kilter, she noticed, and yet not...unattractive. It was a physical trait that she’d always found appealing in men...

Emily felt the fog closing in around her again, stealing her attention, until finally it seemed as if she had come loose from her moorings and really was floating. She looked down and saw a smartly dressed, albeit rather rumpled and inattentive, corporate executive being lectured by a burly outdoorsman who didn’t seem to adhere to the popular rule of watching his tone in front of women. In her experience, country boys were usually rather careful when speaking to the opposite sex, but Mr. James was now delivering his speech with ever-increasing volume, although like a gentleman he’d yet to throw in any profanity. She should share her moose nuggets with him, she thought, and fought the urge to giggle again—wait, maybe she was giggling a little bit. She definitely needed to stop that. She did her best to compose herself; she pressed her lips together and sat up straighter in her chair. But now her head felt really heavy, so she rested her chin on her intertwined fingers.

He certainly was eloquent; she was sure of that even if she wasn’t quite getting the gist of what he was saying. And he really wasn’t bad-looking, either. In fact, he was quite good-looking, she thought, or he could be—with a shave, a haircut and a change of clothes. A nice Italian suit or maybe even some pressed silk trousers—anything but this denim and flannel that these people seemed to think was fashionable for absolutely any occasion...

“Would you agree with that assessment, Ms. Hollings?”

Silence ensued as Emily found sharp eyes piercing hers. She almost flinched, or maybe she did flinch.

“Um, what?” She’d missed the “assessment” completely, but it wasn’t her fault, really; it was getting impossible to think in this...this sauna. She grabbed another tissue and flattened it against her brow. She pulled it away and stared down at it. Strange, she thought, that it didn’t appear to be damp with sweat. How could that be when she was so hot? She dabbed it on her forehead and looked at it again. She patted it with her other hand—dry. Huh. Weird.

* * *

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS,” Bering said crossly. He stood to leave and then added, “I can see that I’m wasting my time here.”

And he was perturbed. The woman was clearly and deliberately tuning him out. And now she was just sitting there spacing out. He’d known when he’d been out in the waiting room that it was probably going to be a waste of time, but he’d also known it was a necessary first step to meet with Cam-Field’s representative. And he had to admit that he’d been hoping he could have a reasonable conversation with this Emily Hollings because he knew exactly what Cam-Field was going to do to this community—his community— if they won approval for their proposed “oil extraction and development project.” And he knew the long-term dangers such development would bring with it.

He had been a young boy when the worst oil spill to ever hit Alaska’s coast had occurred. His dad, uncle and several other family members had dedicated months of their lives assisting in the cleanup. Bering had grown up hearing the stories about the devastation and the impact it had had on Alaska’s coastline, marine animals and the state’s fisheries. An environmental disaster of that nature would have a similar impact on his business, not to mention his quality of life and the lives of the entire community.

As a result, it had become an important part of his life’s work to prevent that sort of destruction from happening again anywhere in Alaska, and especially right here in his hometown. But he could see that discussing it with their front person wasn’t going to do a bit of good. The woman was obviously incompetent. Bering turned to go, but her bizarre question managed to stop him.

“Why aren’t you sweating?”

“What?” he snapped.

“Why aren’t you sweating? Aren’t you hot? I mean, you’re wearing that fuzzy shirt for goodness’ sake, and you’re just standing there like it doesn’t even faze you. And I’m...so...so hot.” She tugged on the lapels of her jacket. “I’m burning up!” She squirmed in her seat and continued mumbling incoherently.

Bering thought he heard the words moose and beach and smoothie, but he couldn’t be sure. He watched as she then shrugged out of her jacket and dropped it on the floor. Her tank top was nothing but a flimsy scrap of silk and Bering could clearly see the outline of her bra underneath. What in the world was she doing? Was she out of her mind?

Bering answered himself with a definite yes, as she then swiveled in her chair and kicked off her shoes. They twirled through the air and thudded one at a time against the wall behind her desk. She turned back toward him and he watched transfixed as she reached up and with one fluid movement stripped off her top.

Next, she stood abruptly and kind of lurched to one side before clumsily regaining her balance with the aid of the desk in front of her. She reached her hands behind her, unzipped her skirt and began wiggling her body in an effort to loosen it from her hips. It fell to the floor with a quiet swoosh. She stepped out of it, leaving her in nothing but a lacy pink bra and matching panties. And Bering could only assume that eventually she would have ended up stark naked—if she hadn’t passed out first.

CHAPTER TWO

BERING QUICKLY DIALED 911 and waited impatiently at Emily’s side for help to arrive. His cousin Tag was a paramedic and Bering knew he was on duty. The minutes seemed to crawl by until he finally heard a noise in the entryway. He yelled, “Tag, in here!”

“Emily?” a voice called from the next room. “What’s going on?”

Bering looked up to see Ms. Hollings’s assistant standing in the doorway, an insulated drink cup in each hand.

“What are you doing to her?” Amanda demanded.

Bering saw it through her eyes: a strange man crouched in front of her nearly naked boss, who didn’t appear to be moving at all. He hoped she wasn’t packing. It was not at all unusual for women he knew to carry a handgun with them at all times. He rushed to explain, “I’m... She—”

“What have you done to her? Get away from her, you freak!” Amanda shrieked. “I’m calling the police.” She plopped the cups down on the desktop and reached for the phone.

“An ambulance is already on the way,” Bering replied calmly. He gave Amanda time to absorb the scene, hoping she’d note that while Emily was only partially clothed, he was completely presentable. He reached out and placed two fingers on Emily’s neck, feeling for her pulse. Was it his imagination or did it seem kind of weak and thready?

He glanced at Amanda and met her worried eyes. Judging by the expression on her face, she was getting it.

“Oh,” Amanda said, dropping the phone back onto the desk. She sank to her knees next to Emily’s limp form. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m not sure.” He pinched Emily’s arm. “I think she might be dehydrated, though. Has she been sick?” Bering inched closer and was alarmed anew by how soft and shallow her breathing seemed.

Amanda began shaking her head. “No, not that I know of...I mean, she said she had a headache today. And she really hasn’t been herself lately, but she hasn’t been sick. Did she faint or something?”

Bering nodded, but never took his eyes off Emily. “She started acting really weird. She said she was hot and then she, uh, she began taking her clothes off, and then she passed out. It scared the heck out of me. I... Where in the world is Tag with that ambulance?” Bering put his fingers on Emily’s neck again, the weak, faint thud of her pulse causing his own heart to leap and then thump heavily in his chest.

“Oh, no!” Amanda cried suddenly, springing to her feet. She crossed over to the desk, and as she frantically searched through the messy pile, she let out an anguished groan.

“What is it?” Bering asked her.

“I gave her some pills earlier for her headache. But I told her to only take one or even a half to start with, but it looks like she took them all. They’re prescription and they’re really strong, and I don’t think she’s eaten anything all day. She hasn’t eaten much at all since we’ve been here, actually, and...” Amanda was rambling now as she rushed back toward Emily. “Like I said, she really hasn’t been herself. She’s been through so much and she...” Amanda broke off with a sob, dropped to her knees and grabbed one of Emily’s limp hands. “Emily, honey? Wake up, Em, please,” she pleaded. “Wake up.”

Bering heard the ambulance crew bust into the reception area. “Finally,” he muttered in relief and then shouted, “Tag, in here.” The paramedic team came charging through the door and Bering had never been so glad to see his cousin in his entire life.

* * *

“I FEEL SO SILLY,” Emily said much later as Amanda helped prop her up against two wonderfully fluffy down pillows. She’d awoken and oddly enough hadn’t been all that surprised to find herself in the hospital. She had vague and hazy recollections of an ambulance ride and voices coming from very far away. There were also remnants of vivid dreams swimming in her head, of strong hands running a cool cloth over her skin, and warm fingertips caressing her face and hair. But of course that was crazy. She’d obviously been delusional.

Amanda’s face split into a wide grin. She set the paper bag she’d been holding on the bed beside Emily. “I’m just glad that you’re going to be okay. What did the doctor tell you?”

Emily made a face. “That I was dehydrated, undernourished, exhausted, anemic and stressed-out, and on top of all that I was then, apparently, drugged.”

Amanda winced. “I’m so sorry about the pain pills, Em. I should have only given you one.”

“Amanda, clearly it wasn’t your fault. I was out of my mind. The doctor also said I am overall generally unhealthy.” She scrunched her face into a doubt-filled expression and asked, “Do you think I’m unhealthy?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

Amanda began ticking things off on her fingers. “You don’t get enough sleep. You don’t get enough exercise. You work all the time. You never eat very well—I’ve been telling you that for years. So, yes, I’d say it doesn’t surprise me that the doctor says you’re unhealthy.”

Emily shrugged and said defensively, “I don’t have time.”

Amanda looked at her doubtfully. “You don’t have time?”

“To eat healthy and stuff.”

“You have just as much time to stop at Whole Foods in the morning as you do the bakery. You have just as much time to eat a banana or some oatmeal as you do an apple fritter. You have just as much time to walk through the salad bar at Trader Joe’s as you do the drive-through at Chicken Little.”

“I don’t like hummus,” Emily said with a curled lip. “Or wheat germ.”

“No one is suggesting you eat hummus, and I would be willing to bet you couldn’t identify a germ of wheat if your life depended on it.”

“That’s probably true,” Emily conceded with a grin. “But you know what I mean—I don’t like slimy, wheat-germy-type things.”

“Wheat germ isn’t slimy. But look, Emily,” Amanda said and then took a deep breath. “I know you don’t like to talk about this, but ever since the promotion-Jeremy thing, you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself at all—worse than normal. All you do is work. All you talk about is work.”

Emily folded her hands neatly in front of her. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Amanda, I know I’ve probably been awful to work for—”

“No, no,” Amanda said, “you are, and always have been, the best boss in the world.” She reached down, took Emily’s hand and squeezed it. “But right now I’m talking to you as your best friend. You need to pull yourself together. You need to start taking care of yourself and thinking about yourself first, before your job—before even your stepfather and your mother, and definitely before that worm Jeremy.”

Emily bobbed her head agreeably. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m going to. I will.”

“I’m sorry, Em, if I sound harsh, but you have no idea how worried I’ve been about you.”

Emily felt a surge of guilt well up within her. How selfish of her not to realize what Amanda had gone through, too.

“Oh, Amanda, I’m so sorry.” She reached over and enfolded Amanda’s hand in hers. “Yes, I promise I will get my act together. I will get better and healthy and eat raisins and vitamins and do yoga and become a hummus-eating vegan. And you know what? I’m thinking about starting my training for a triathlon the minute I get out of this hospital bed.”

Amanda let out a bark of laughter. “Let’s not get carried away here. It’s important not to set our expectations too high.”

“You’re right. I won’t, because I’m not eating any raisins. I’m not eating anything that looks like a dead bug. And I’m really not a strong swimmer, so that triathlon thing might be a tad unrealistic.”

“I’d settle for a brisk fifteen-or twenty-minute walk on the treadmill.” She let go of Emily’s hand and then reached into the brown paper sack sitting on the tray table and pulled something out. She placed it on a napkin and set it on Emily’s lap. “Here, try this. It’s one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten.”

Emily grimaced at it. It was some sort of biscuit covered with purplish-brown polka dots. “What is it? Wait, Amanda, is that a raisin?”

“Those are huckleberries. It’s a huckleberry scone. Just try it,” Amanda coaxed in a motherly tone. “Stop looking at it like that. I swear they aren’t raisins and there’s no wheat germ or anything healthy in it. I don’t even think it would fall into the ‘healthy’ category at all.”

Emily looked skeptical. “I’ll try it later, okay? I’m really not hungry right now. Now tell me exactly what happened after I passed out.”

Amanda ignored her attempt to change the subject. “Emily, you just told me you were going to do better. You promised. And the doctor says you have to eat if you’re going to get out of here today. And judging by your tray, you skipped breakfast.”

Emily crinkled her nose at the congealed cheese-and-smoked-salmon omelet and slimy canned fruit that lay untouched on the cart next to them. An apple fritter sounded good, or even a couple Oreos.

“Just try a bite,” Amanda encouraged.

“Fine, if it will make you happy.” Emily nibbled on the edge of the flaky biscuit and was immediately overwhelmed by its luscious texture. She took a real bite. Sweet, fluffy dough met tart berry in a delectable combination. Her stomach lurched painfully and then growled in anticipation of more. She took another bite and this time she savored it.

“That’s really good. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”

“You haffen’t” came the muffled reply as Amanda’s mouth was now also stuffed full of scone.

“What?” Emily answered. “I had that candy bar, let’s see, when was it? Yesterday morning? I guess it has been a while.”

Amanda shook her head and swallowed. “Nope, that was the day before yesterday. You’ve been asleep since Friday.”

“What?”

“Today is Sunday. You were out of it all day yesterday.”

Emily stared down at the scone in her hands and reeled over the fact that she’d lost almost two whole days out of her life and hadn’t even realized it. She thought hard for a moment. The last thing she remembered was a meeting with a Mr. James. She’d had a terrible headache, and she’d been really hot and...and he’d seemed angry with her—the memory of his deep voice reverberating in her brain made her cringe—and then she’d...

“I wouldn’t eat all of that if I were you,” that same voice suddenly called from the doorway. Emily shot a startled glance at Bering James as he strode into the room. She definitely remembered that voice. His hair was too long and rather unkempt, she thought, but he looked and smelled freshly showered, Emily decided as a few more steps delivered him right beside her bed. Her body tingled in memory of...what? Possibilities sent a shiver skittering uncomfortably across her skin.

It was just his close proximity making her feel overheated and self-conscious, she decided, pulling the sheet up to her chin. Bering ran one hand over his mouth and it looked to Emily as if he was smothering a chuckle. What was funny, she wondered irritably, and what in the world was he doing here?

“Your stomach might tell you it wants all of that,” he said, gesturing at the scone in her hands. “But if you eat that much, it might turn around and change its mind on you. It’s awfully rich.” He smiled at her, and Emily had the distinct feeling that he was going to reach out and touch her. But he didn’t.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake, Ms. Hollings. How are you feeling?”

“I, uh, I’m fine, I guess, Mr. James. Thank you so much for stopping by. If you want to talk to Amanda here, she can reschedule our meeting. I really have to apologize. I’m afraid I don’t remember most of our first one.”

“Emily,” Amanda began, “Bering hasn’t—”

“It’s okay, Amanda,” he said, cutting her off. “I would be happy to reschedule—but later. The doctor is going to be in to see you again in a few minutes. But first, here you go. Drink this.” He reached into a pouch on the side of the backpack he had slung over his shoulder and removed a plastic bottle filled with a thick liquid. He inserted a straw and placed it in her hands.

Emily held it up—it looked like a smoothie. She hadn’t had a smoothie in so long that the mere thought of it caused her mouth to water. But she had to ask, “It’s pink—please don’t tell me it’s some kind of liquefied salmon drink?”

“What?” Bering said with a surprised chuckle. “No, it’s peach.”

She took a sip from the straw and the taste of fresh peaches drenched her taste buds. “Mmm, oh, my goodness,” she said with a groan. “This is even better than the scone. It’s the best thing I’ve tasted since I’ve been here. Where did you get it? Because I know there is nothing even resembling a proper juice place in this town.”

Bering grinned at her. “I made it. And my mom made the scones, and I’ll be sure to tell her that you think my smoothie is better than her scones. The smoothie is very healthy. So drink it, and I’ll see you later.” With that he turned, his long strides carrying him swiftly from the room.

Emily gaped toward the door and then gaped at Amanda. “Amanda, what the...?”

Amanda patted her mouth with a napkin and Emily was struck with the notion that she was swallowing a chuckle, too.

Several minutes later, she decided that that was exactly what she’d been doing, as had Bering James. As Amanda filled her in on the details of the past couple days, she knew it wasn’t the richness of the scone that had her feeling nauseated. She pulled the cool sheet up to cover her now-flaming face.

Amanda seemed to be enjoying her mortification, however, and continued torturing her with more details.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she finally said, lowering the sheet enough to reveal her eyes. “I had some kind of psychotic break. I just haven’t been hungry since we’ve been here. All this seafood...” Emily scrunched up her face distastefully. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “I’ve got to get out of here, Amanda.”

“The doctor said he’s going to release you today. But you have to take it easy, get some rest and eat something. You need to get your strength back. You’ve got your first presentation in two days, but the town-council vote isn’t until the twenty-third, so that still gives us over a month to prepare.”

A month suddenly loomed before her like a giant and hulking mountain, and just the thought of trying to scale it was exhausting. She wished she could curl up and rest somewhere for a while, somewhere warm and preferably for the rest of her life.

“No, no, I mean I’ve got to get out of this place, this backwoods...frozen...wasteland.” Emily felt her lashes thicken with moisture. “I want to go home.” A single tear broke loose and trickled slowly down her cheek. “I hate it here, Amanda.”

“Emily, listen to me. You can’t quit now. We can do this. We can. We’ve faced worse. Remember that weird town in Northern California that everyone said was impossible? We did it, remember? And what about that ranching community in Texas? We had death threats there, but we won them over. Oh, and who could forget that little Molotov cocktail thrown through our window in Oklahoma? They almost burned down our house. Come on, Em, this place is going to be a cakewalk compared to some of the jobs we’ve been on.”

Amanda took a deep breath and continued, “I know you’ve been struggling and I know you haven’t wanted to talk about it, but I think you need to hear this. You need to be successful on this job, Em. It wasn’t right that Franklin promoted Jeremy over you, but you did the right thing by breaking up with him. The guy is a leech. He would never have gotten the job if it wasn’t for you, and now you need to show Franklin what a colossal mistake he has made. This is your opportunity to prove how valuable you are to this company. Without Jeremy here stealing your thunder, Franklin will have no choice but to see it. So, we’re going to do this, in your kick-butt efficient and effective Emily Hollings manner—just not at the expense of your health.”

Emily snuffled into a tissue and then wiped her eyes. Amanda was right. This was what she did—no one did this job as well as she did. She really didn’t know what it was about this place that had her so out of sorts. It was just so cold and isolated and wild and...intimidating. Kind of like Bering James, she decided. Yep, the man personified the place. She was suddenly struck by an image of him hovered over her and holding her hand. Oh, no...

“Amanda, was Bering James here at the hospital earlier?”

Amanda leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He stayed here the entire time. I mean, he barely left your side until this morning. You came to really early and the doctor said you were going to be okay, so he went home to take a shower, and apparently whip up a little peach power drink, and hightailed it back here. He was gone for maybe an hour, tops.”

Emily’s cheeks grew warm again. She cooled them with the smoothie, holding the cup against one cheek and then the other. “I wonder why. I mean, why did he stay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was hoping for a repeat performance of your impromptu striptease?” Amanda teased.

“Very funny.”

“Emily, he was worried about you, obviously. And I was worried, too. And to tell you the truth, it was really a comfort having him here.”

“Ugh,” Emily bemoaned, “I can’t believe that that man saw me almost naked.”

“Don’t worry about it. He wasn’t the only one. But hey, between him and that cousin of his—I would let either one of them see me naked.”

“Cousin? What cousin?”

“Oh, man, Bering’s cousin is the paramedic that brought you in. And phew, talk about a hottie. I have half a mind to strip down later and fake passing out.” She tapped a finger thoughtfully against her pursed lips and then asked, “How do you fake a heart attack, I wonder? I should probably be wearing something lower-cut, right? Maybe instigate a little wardrobe malfunction?” She tugged down on the collar of her shirt. “Whaddya think? Would that be too much?”

“Amanda, be serious.” Emily winced. “So, there were actually two men that saw me in my, um, semi-dressed state, then?”

“No.”

“Thank goodness.” Emily breathed a sigh of relief and then realized that couldn’t be true. “But wait, you said—”

“It was more like six or seven if you count the doctor, the nurses, the ambulance driver and the other paramedic guys. The whole crew, they were all men—how weird is that?”

“Oh, Amanda, what am I going to do?”

“Quit worrying about it. I’m sure it’s routine for these guys. They see naked people all the time. They probably didn’t even notice, really....”

* * *

BERING COULDN’T GET Emily Hollings out of his head. He’d come home, returned several phone calls, attempted to catch up on some paperwork and then decided to take a quick nap before he went out to meet Tag for dinner. It was like the lost-puppy syndrome, he decided, as he stared up at the cedar-planked ceiling in his bedroom and thought it over.