The Middle of Somewhere(64)

But that wasn’t how it happened and nothing could change it, or the fact that, as a devout Catholic, Dante would take particular exception to the way she had handled her pregnancy, and its termination.

She was tempted, now, to keep the secret. He loved her, she loved him. She’d opened up to him about her failed marriage, about her guilt in precipitating Gabriel’s death. He hadn’t been overjoyed by the news but neither had he rejected her. If she said nothing more, they had a chance to be happy together.

But as soon as the thought ran through her mind she saw it for the deceit it was. Dante may never know, but she would. The lie would be with her, a pebble in her shoe, every step of the way.

If Dante excommunicated her (as she fully expected), she would be alone. Not as in alone-for-a-decent-period, but alone. Until she turned twenty, she’d never pictured herself married. Gabriel had altered that, but after he died she’d reset her expectations to the default position. Now she was living with Dante, a tribute to his charm and persistence. But he would soon pay for his efforts, and she was sorry. It was for the best. Her mother had chosen to live alone, and had raised her without guidance of how to live otherwise. Liz didn’t fear the prospect of a lifetime without a mate, but it did make her sad. The moments when she felt she belonged to someone—to Dante—were magical. What a shame she was incapable of making them last.

The only thing Liz would never do was set out to raise a child alone. She wasn’t her mother.

Linda and Paul arrived a half hour later. Dante showed Paul the campsite while Liz helped Linda clean up at the lake. Her wound was encrusted with blood, but wasn’t worse otherwise. Liz rinsed out the bloody sock while Linda splashed water onto her face.

“I wish I could dive in,” the older woman said. “I don’t deal well with the heat.”

“Seems to me you’re dealing incredibly well with everything. You’re so strong.”

“Not really. I’m just incredibly stubborn.”

The women regarded each other. Linda’s curly hair, which had been under a cap all day, was matted to her head. Her face was ruddy from the sun and cold water, and her eyes betrayed a shadow of the pain she’d suffered that day.

She smiled crookedly at Liz, who returned the smile and said, “Enjoying your holiday?”

They burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. It was all so ridiculous, putting themselves through this. And yet neither of them was sorry to be there—Liz could see it written all over her friend’s face. The absurdity of it, combined with their exhaustion, brought on laughter in endless waves.

“Oh, my God,” Linda said, holding her side. “I’m going to need the tent kit again!”

At six o’clock they convened for dinner, though without a fire, as they were well above ten thousand feet. Paul had poured Linda an extra allotment of tequila. She was, as he put it, “feeling no pain.”

“Which only proves what a lightweight I’ve become on this trip,” she said.

Dante asked how they had met.

“I was here doing some consulting, minding my own business, when this blond Californian comes out of nowhere and steals my heart. I sold my company, my flat, my car, my motorbike, and moved five thousand miles. Completely besotted, is what I am.”

“Don’t listen to him. That’s not at all what happened. He was mail order. Bargain basement prices for Englishmen. I could have had a twofer.”

Everyone laughed.

“Really, though,” Linda said, stealing a glance at her husband. “It was love at first sight.”

“That’s so romantic,” Liz said. Dante placed his hand on her knee.

Paul nodded. “But not easily won. Second time for both of us.”

Linda said, “Sometimes it takes a while to recognize what you’ve always wanted.”

“And by that time,” he added with a grin, “you’re nearly dead.”

? ? ?

Everyone retired early, eager to escape the growing cold and rest their legs. Once Liz and Dante had shed their outerwear and wriggled deep into their sleeping bags, she brought up Paul’s immigration.

“That was a big step for him to take all at once.”

“Well, half a step would’ve landed him in the Atlantic.”

“You know what I mean. He packed up and left his life, and his country, behind.”

“So did I, carina.”

“It’s different, though, with Paul. He only left to be with Linda.”