Page 55 of Kiss Across the Universe
“I know the signs,” Kit assured her. He got up and moved over to the pack hanging on the trees, and stowed the meat inside it and buckled the pack. If there were any bears still up and about this late in the season, they would not be able to reach the meat without ripping the pack apart. He would haul the cooked bones and leftovers a good half mile away from here and leave them for the wildlife to eat. A bear would go for the easy pickings before trying to get into the pack.
“Why do you know the signs?” Alannah asked. Curiosity colored her tone, alerting Kit that he had revealed too much. He came back to the fire, lifted the haunch off the two tripods and added more wood. If he waited long enough to answer, she might drift back to sleep.
“Kit?” she asked as he settled on the ground once more.
He plucked his knife from the ground, and used the flat stone to hone the edge of it. It had done a lot of work this night. While he worked, he sought for a way to deflect her, then settled for turning it around and pushing it back toward her. “You feel like you don’t measure up. Not compared to Aran. And Marit…you said something about her being…something more than just a time jumper. You feel like you’re nothing, compared to them.”
Her breath came faster. When she spoke, he could hear the pain in her voice. “Iamnothing. I was a small cog in Hollywood, now I’m not even that.”
“You’re not nothing,” he said sharply. “If you were nothing, then we wouldn’t be here.” He realized how that statement could be misinterpreted and added quickly. “Iron Grey wouldn’t be hunting you if you were nothing. You have a talent, Alannah. It might not compare well to the overachievers in your family, but that’s not how you should measure yourself.”
“I was trying tonotmeasure myself against them,” she said softly.
Ah…The note of understanding sighed in his mind. “By being more human than normal humans,” he said, as softly as her. He didn’t wait for her confirmation, because he knew in his gut that he had nailed it. “That’s something I know, too.”
“You do?” Her voice was startled.
He cursed silently. This wasn’t helping her sleep. But at least she was talking civilly and not showering him with anger and resentment as she had been that afternoon.
Picking his words with care, he said; “The Stoney land we’re heading for…it’s my folks’ land. The McDonald family are part of the Stoney Nakoda First Nation. One of the more successful ones. They own businesses all through the foothills, from Calgary all the way up to Edmonton and into the northern lands. The real money maker is a construction company that spans the province. It won the contract to build the Olympic village in Calgary for the Winter Olympics in 1988. And my father will tell you, if you ask him, that the family’s success was made possible only because the family worked together tomakeit successful.”
He halted, unable to go on. He’d never told this to a single soul. It hurt to speak the words. Bitterness rose in him, and he stabbed the knife into the ground with more force than was strictly necessary.
“Only, you’re not working the family business,” Alannah said slowly, with dawning awareness in her voice. “You…you joined the military, then you became a park warden.”
“Army,” he said, speaking around the hard knot in his throat. “Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry.” And then onward from there, but that wasn’t something to share.
Her silence this time stretched long and thin and tense. Still speaking softly, but with full alertness, she said, “Did you walk away, or did they push you?”
He was breathing hard. Too hard.
Both.The word whispered in his mind. Pushed, propelled, sprinting away…it made little difference.
But he couldn’t speak that aloud because Alannah was awake and aware now and would ask the next natural questions and those hewouldn’tanswer. Not ever.
“Go to sleep,” he told her, meaning it to be a gentle suggestion, but it emerged harsh and dictatorial.
He let the false impression remain uncorrected. If she thought he was pissed with her, she would retreat once more and stop asking questions that hurt to even consider, let alone answer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aran followed the delicious scentof fresh coffee into the kitchen and found, as he suspected he would, Rafe working over the stove, with frypans spitting and hissing.
A French press stood on the wooden chopping block island behind Rafe, two clean mugs beside it and the sugar pot behind it.
“You know us too well, Rafael,” Aran said as he poured the two cups. He put sugar in his and left Jesse’s unadulterated.
“Breakfast in about eight minutes,” Rafe told him. “Lots of calories to make up for the broken night.” He glanced over his shoulder. “At least two of ‘em are teething. I could hear the pain in their voices.”
“Ambesol is a boon to the frazzled parent,” Aran admitted.
“I waited until I could hear all five sleeping before I started breakfast,” Rafe said. “Jesse is prowling up there. She needs coffee, calories and to relax.” He grinned. “I know she won’t let herself sleep just yet.”
“Enemies on the right, feverish babies on the left. We might have to shoot her with a tranquilizer gun before sleep happens,” Aran admitted. He picked up Jesse’s cup. “I’ll coax her down.”
He climbed back up the stairs, and hung over the railing at the top and held out the mug.
Jesse was circling the reading nook, picking up toys and stuffing them in the baskets. She put the basket she was carrying down and came over and took the cup.
