grinned and squirmed a bit more, nestling her head more securely into the space between his firmly muscled thighs, then lay still while he drove. They jolted over some ruts and took a couple of sharp turns.
"Okay," he said. "I think I've lost them. You can sit up now."
April squirmed back to her seat and pushed herself up so she could see out and fasten her seatbelt properly. They were on a gravel road stretching from nowhere to nowhere. All around them, the tundra rolled wide and empty.
It should have frightened her, she thought, after their experiences yesterday. But instead it just felt serene and peaceful.
"Where are we?" she asked, combing down her mussed hair with her fingers.
"This is a utility road heading out to the power plant. Nobody ever comes this way except plant workers. And there's a turnoff to the shore near here. I like coming down here to swim."
They turned off the gravel road after another mile or two, and jolted and bumped over the tundra. Twin wheel ruts were barely visible ahead of them. The truck's beat-up suspension groaned as Nathan eased them down a rough, steeply sloping bank to a wide gravel beach. He killed the engine, and the sound of surf swept in through the half-open windows.
April opened the truck door and stepped down. Her hiking shoes crunched on jagged beach rocks. The wind's fresh chill made her glad of her jacket, although the sun was warm on her hair.
The storm had blown through and away, leaving stitches of cirrus clouds scattered across deep blue skies. Waves purled along the shore, drawing back and rolling in again to shatter in low arcs of ice-cold spray. In the sunlight, there was a deep emerald underlying the water's Atlantic gray.
She and Nathan were the only people in sight. The shoreline curved gently away, until the white lace of the breakers could no longer be distinguished from the gray pebble beach. Flecks of ice dotted the water; the farther out she looked, the more ice there was, like a reflection of the white clouds in the blue sky.
Nathan appeared around the nose of the truck. "You like it?"
"I do." And she couldn't help thinking it was prime polar bear habitat. No wonder it appealed to him.
But this was clearly a special place for him. It flattered April tremendously that he was willing to share his private place with her.
Nathan climbed into the truck bed and tossed down the bundle of the tent. "Hey, no need to help me set up camp. You want to take a walk on the shore, explore a little?"
She got the idea that he was trying to get her away from the truck, but if he wanted to set up something special, she wasn't going to stop him. "Sure," she said. She got her camera out of her bag.
"Yell if you see any bears, okay?"
April tossed a grin at him over her shoulder. "I'm not afraid of bears."
She walked a short way up the shoreline, close enough to the water's edge to feel the stinging spray and taste the salt on her lips. Chunks of ice were melting among the rocks where the waves had carried them ashore. April crouched and touched her finger to one of them. It was hard sea ice, polished like beachglass. Ice from the North Pole, she thought.
When she eventually circled around to the campsite, she found that Nathan had set up the tent in the lee of the truck, using the truck's body as a windbreak. It was a large, four-man tent with an awning over the door. Nathan was sitting in front of the tent, one long leg stretched out, gazing out to sea. He looked up and smiled that brilliant smile when he saw her.
"Find any bears?" he asked.
"Just one," she said, and leaned into him, her hip against his shoulder. He turned his head to bury his face against her stomach. She ran her hand across his sun-warmed hair. "Did you have fun making camp?"
"See for yourself," Nathan said. He unwound himself from her hips and reached to pull back the tent flap.
April went down on hands and knees to peek inside. The rich scent of roses greeted her. There was a sleeping bag
"Okay," he said. "I think I've lost them. You can sit up now."
April squirmed back to her seat and pushed herself up so she could see out and fasten her seatbelt properly. They were on a gravel road stretching from nowhere to nowhere. All around them, the tundra rolled wide and empty.
It should have frightened her, she thought, after their experiences yesterday. But instead it just felt serene and peaceful.
"Where are we?" she asked, combing down her mussed hair with her fingers.
"This is a utility road heading out to the power plant. Nobody ever comes this way except plant workers. And there's a turnoff to the shore near here. I like coming down here to swim."
They turned off the gravel road after another mile or two, and jolted and bumped over the tundra. Twin wheel ruts were barely visible ahead of them. The truck's beat-up suspension groaned as Nathan eased them down a rough, steeply sloping bank to a wide gravel beach. He killed the engine, and the sound of surf swept in through the half-open windows.
April opened the truck door and stepped down. Her hiking shoes crunched on jagged beach rocks. The wind's fresh chill made her glad of her jacket, although the sun was warm on her hair.
The storm had blown through and away, leaving stitches of cirrus clouds scattered across deep blue skies. Waves purled along the shore, drawing back and rolling in again to shatter in low arcs of ice-cold spray. In the sunlight, there was a deep emerald underlying the water's Atlantic gray.
She and Nathan were the only people in sight. The shoreline curved gently away, until the white lace of the breakers could no longer be distinguished from the gray pebble beach. Flecks of ice dotted the water; the farther out she looked, the more ice there was, like a reflection of the white clouds in the blue sky.
Nathan appeared around the nose of the truck. "You like it?"
"I do." And she couldn't help thinking it was prime polar bear habitat. No wonder it appealed to him.
But this was clearly a special place for him. It flattered April tremendously that he was willing to share his private place with her.
Nathan climbed into the truck bed and tossed down the bundle of the tent. "Hey, no need to help me set up camp. You want to take a walk on the shore, explore a little?"
She got the idea that he was trying to get her away from the truck, but if he wanted to set up something special, she wasn't going to stop him. "Sure," she said. She got her camera out of her bag.
"Yell if you see any bears, okay?"
April tossed a grin at him over her shoulder. "I'm not afraid of bears."
She walked a short way up the shoreline, close enough to the water's edge to feel the stinging spray and taste the salt on her lips. Chunks of ice were melting among the rocks where the waves had carried them ashore. April crouched and touched her finger to one of them. It was hard sea ice, polished like beachglass. Ice from the North Pole, she thought.
When she eventually circled around to the campsite, she found that Nathan had set up the tent in the lee of the truck, using the truck's body as a windbreak. It was a large, four-man tent with an awning over the door. Nathan was sitting in front of the tent, one long leg stretched out, gazing out to sea. He looked up and smiled that brilliant smile when he saw her.
"Find any bears?" he asked.
"Just one," she said, and leaned into him, her hip against his shoulder. He turned his head to bury his face against her stomach. She ran her hand across his sun-warmed hair. "Did you have fun making camp?"
"See for yourself," Nathan said. He unwound himself from her hips and reached to pull back the tent flap.
April went down on hands and knees to peek inside. The rich scent of roses greeted her. There was a sleeping bag
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