Page 48 of For the Love of Lilah
She still loved all of those things, but now she had seen a different side of him. He’d been—masterful. She cringed at the term that entered her head and would have sworn she found it offensive. But it hadn’t been offensive, not in Max. It had been illuminating.
He had taken charge. He had taken her, she thought with a quick flash of excitement. Though she still resented being compared to a difficult student, she had to admire his technique. He’d simply stated his intentions and moved on them.
She’d be the first to admit that she’d have frozen another man in his tracks with a few well-chosen words if he’d attempted the same thing. But Max wasn’t any other man.
She hoped he was beginning to believe it.
While her mind wandered, she kept an eye on her group. Jordan Pond was a favored spot and she had a full load.
“Please, don’t disturb the plant life. I know the flowers are tempting, but we have thousands of visitors who’ll want to enjoy them, in their natural setting. The bottle-shaped flower you see in the pond is yellow cow lily, or spatterdock. The leaves floating on the surface are bladderwort, and common to most Acadia ponds. It is their tiny bladders that help the plant float, and that trap small insects.”
In his ripped jeans and tattered backpack, Caufield listened to her lecture. Behind his dark glasses, his eyes were watchful. He paid attention, though the talk of bog and pond plants meant nothing to him. He held back a sneer when the group gasped as a heron glided overhead to wade in the shallows several yards away.
As if fascinated, he lifted the camera strapped around his neck and snapped pictures of the bird, the wild orchards, even of a bullfrog who had come out to bask on a floating leaf.
Most of all, he bided his time.
She continued to lecture, tirelessly answering questions as they moved along the trail beside the glassy water. She spelled a weary mother by hitching a toddler on her hip and pointing out a family of black ducks.
When the lecture was over, the group was free to follow the circular trail around the pond or retreat to their cars.
“Miss Calhoun?”
Lilah glanced around. She’d noticed the bearded hiker in the group, though he hadn’t asked any questions during the lecture. There was a hint of the South in his voice.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to tell you how terrific your talk was. I teach high school geography and reward myself every summer with a trip through a national park. You’re really one of the best guides I’ve come across.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, and though it was a natural gesture for her, felt reluctant to offer her hand. She didn’t recognize the sweaty, bearded hiker, but she picked up something disturbing. “You’ll have to visit the Nature Center while you’re here. Enjoy your stay.”
He put a hand on her arm. It was a casual move, far from demanding, but she disliked it intensely.
“I was hoping you could give me a little one-on-one, if you’ve got a minute. I like to give the kids a full-scale report when school starts in the fall. A lot of them never see the inside of a park.”
She forced herself to shake off the mood. It was her job, she reminded herself, and she appreciated talking to someone with a genuine interest. “I’d be happy to answer any questions.”
“Great.” He pulled out a notebook he’d been careful to scribble in.
She relaxed a little, giving him a more in-depth talk than the average group required.
“This is so kind of you. I wonder, could I buy you some coffee, or a sandwich?”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“But it would be a pleasure.”
“I have plans, but thanks.”
He kept his smile in place. “Well, I’ll be around for a few more weeks. Maybe some other time. I know this is going to sound strange, but I’d swear I’d seen you before. Have you ever been to Raleigh?”
Her instincts were humming, and she wanted to get away from him. “No, I haven’t.”
“It’s the darnedest thing.” As if puzzled, he shook his head. “You seem so familiar. Well, thanks again. I’d better start back to camp.” He turned, then stopped. “I know. The papers. I’ve seen your picture. You’re the woman with the emeralds.”
“No. I’m afraid I’m the woman without them.”
“What a story. I read about it down in Raleigh a month or two ago, and then... well, I have to confess, I’m just addicted to those supermarket tabloids. Comes from living alone and reading too many essays.” He gave her a sheepish smile that would have charmed her if her senses hadn’t been working overtime.
