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Homecoming Wife
Joan Kilby
The return of the runaway bride…Ten years ago Nate Wilde's wife, Angela, left and never came back. Nate is now quite happy to spend his days on the rugged trails of Whistler, British Columbia. But when Angela returns to the resort town, the same old attraction flares to life between them.Nate realizes he never stopped loving Angela and hopes to change her mind about filing for divorce. They've both done a lot of growing up over the years and changed in ways neither expected. Will Nate be able to convince his wife to stay for good this time?



“Hello, Angela. So you’re back.”
Nate struggled to find a nonchalant tone. “That video you took out before you left is a tad overdue.”
She planted one hand on a slender curving hip. “After ten years is that all you have to say to me?”
As if he should be the one to apologize. When they were married, half the time he hadn’t known whether he wanted to strangle her or make love to her. Nothing had changed. She might have the face of an angel, but she had the devil’s own ability to make him toss common sense to the winds. “I’ve got plenty to say, but not in a public place.”
“Ah, the same old Nate.” Angela started to turn away, then hesitated. “Ricky doesn’t realize we were married. It might be easier if we kept it that way.”
Now she was denying they were ever together. Was this it, then? Were they finally going to break the last flimsy tie between them?
Advantages of Bachelorhood Number 149: freedom.
Now that he thought about it, it sounded damn good.
Dear Reader,
Imagine a man so gutsy he launches his mountain bike down sheer rock face, so strong he cycles uphill for hours, so focused he wins every competition he enters. Then picture the woman who can turn his insides to mush with her smile, make his knees weak with her touch and forget his vow never to fall for her again.
Nate Wilde is that man and the woman is his runaway bride, Angela. Homecoming Wife is the first in a trilogy of stories set in Whistler, British Columbia, a rugged mountain resort famed for world-class outdoor sports.
Such a spectacular setting demands heroes who are larger than life, with uncommon physical and mental strength. Ride along with Nate as he faces the toughest challenge of his life—winning the love of his one special woman.
I love to hear from readers. Please write to me at P.O. Box 234, Point Roberts, WA 98281-0234, or send an e-mail via www.joankilby.com.
Sincerely,
Joan Kilby

Homecoming Wife
Joan Kilby

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my beloved mother, Ruby Friesen. 1924–2003
I’m grateful to Kevan Kobyashi for information on
mountain biking in the Whistler area. Any errors are mine.
The biking trail in the book is part real, part fiction,
based on the needs of the story.
Several books on mountain biking proved invaluable in the
research for this book: Mountain Biking British Columbia (2nd
edition) by Steve Dunn, Dirt! by John Howard and Mountain
Biking Skills compiled by the editors of
Mountain Bike and Bicycling magazines.

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE
ADVANTAGE OF BACHELORHOOD Number 147: No wife to disapprove of a man’s passion for mountain bikes.
Nate Wilde added the latest item to his ongoing mental list as he closed up his mountain-bike shop, Cycle Sports, and strapped on his helmet. He’d been compiling the list ever since the snowy Whistler night a decade ago when Angela left him. Technically speaking, he wasn’t a bachelor because they were still married but for all practical purposes he was on his own.
Nate got on his favorite bike, the Balfa Belair. Blazing red with gold forks over the front wheel and a sweet-looking seat tower arrangement, the Balfa floated over the cobbled streets of Whistler Village. Nate turned down a flight of concrete stairs, causing a group of Japanese tourists to raise their cameras and click madly.
His brother, Aidan, had he known about the list, would have said Nate was rationalizing his loss. His cousin, Marc, who’d grown up with them after his mother died, would have told him he was full of shit, but that’s what happened when a guy married too young and too fast.
And Angela, the only woman he’d ever loved, would have put her nose in the air, sniffed and said “typical.” If she’d stuck around long enough to say anything, that is. She’d believed neither in him nor their future together. He’d wanted kids; she’d been adamantly opposed. They’d been fighting over when to start a family the night she’d run off, breaking his heart and shattering his pride.
Barely a day went by when he didn’t count his blessings that she was out of his life.
Barely a day went by when he didn’t also wonder how she was, and what she was doing.
In fact, he knew what Angela was doing more or less all the time because her sister Janice had kept him up to date on the steady rise in Angela’s fortunes since she left him. She’d studied business in Toronto then worked at the Globe and Mail newspaper until two months ago when she’d returned to Vancouver to take a high-powered job with a business magazine.
In all that time her only communication had been a brief phone call a month after her departure to say their marriage was a mistake followed by a garbled letter purporting to explain why she wasn’t coming home but which left him no wiser.
His attempts to contact her through Janice had failed, and he’d been forced to conclude she wanted nothing more to do with him.
How could she have left him simply because she wasn’t ready to have a baby?
Cycling home on the highway, Nate remembered that his fridge was seriously depleted so he stopped in at Nester’s Market to stock up on essentials.
Janice’s latest news flash was that Angela was coming to Whistler to baby-sit her ten-year-old nephew, Ricky, while Janice and her husband, Bob, went on a short vacation. In a small community like Whistler there was no way Nate and Angela could avoid seeing each other so he’d been preparing himself in advance to keep a lid on his anger, a tight rein on his libido and a watchful eye out for any assault on his pride.

ANGELA HAULED ON the steering wheel of Janice’s ancient green Dodge and the car lumbered around the tight curves on the Sea-to-Sky highway north of Vancouver. Mountains rose steeply to her right, the waters of Howe Sound lapped the shore to her left and signs warning of falling rocks appeared around every other bend. She’d seen her sister and brother-in-law off at the airport and now she and Ricky were heading back to Whistler.
Ricky had his head down and was stabbing away at his Game Boy. His blond hair was gelled to spiky peaks and freckles smattered his straight nose. Below his shorts, both knees were scabbed over and Band-Aids, some clean, some grubby, plastered several fingers and an elbow.
If the baby she’d been carrying the night she ran away had lived, he or she would have been about the same age as Ricky.
Angela had pushed away similar thoughts for years; the closer she got to Whistler and Nate, the more frequently the baby came to mind. Would he have been athletic and full of pride like Nate, or ambitious and stubborn like her?
She didn’t know much about kids in general, and she hadn’t seen Ricky since he was an infant. Frankly, she was terrified of making mistakes with him. What if he didn’t like her, or do what she told him to? What if he got hurt while under her care? According to Janice, he was both daring and accident-prone.
“What do you do for fun, Ricky?” she asked after her first few questions elicited only monosyllables.
“Ride my bike.”
Three whole words. That was an improvement. When Janice and Bob had won a trip to Europe in a supermarket contest she’d gladly offered to baby-sit, not stopping to consider that taking care of a boy wasn’t the same as watering a plant or even looking after a pet.
Cooking was another worry. If Ricky expected homemade meals every night he was in for an unpleasant surprise. “What do you like to eat?”
“Pizza.” He glanced up from the miniature screen, leaving his fingers poised over the buttons. “Hamburgers.”
“Great!” she said, relieved. “Those are my favorites, too.”
“Ice cream,” he went on loquaciously. “Candy, cookies, chips…that kind of stuff.”
“We’ll go shopping as soon as we get to Whistler.”
Angela rolled down the window and breathed the fresh, pine-scented air. Ahead, she could see the towering peaks of Whistler and Blackcomb Mountains where even now in early July, glaciers glistened whitely in the brilliant blue sky. It felt good to be coming home.
But she was nervous, too, at the prospect of seeing Nate. How would he react to her after all this time?
Maybe if he hadn’t loved his bikes more than he loved her they wouldn’t have fought in the first place. Maybe if Nate had known she was pregnant he would have tried harder to stop her from leaving. Maybe if she hadn’t run away she wouldn’t have miscarried and they would be a family now instead of two people legally united but who barely knew each other.
That was a lot of maybes.
She’d been too young, too immature and too insecure to admit she was wrong and ask him to take her back. The bottom line was he’d let her go without a struggle.
Angela’s hands felt stiff from being clenched around the steering wheel. She shook them until the blood returned to the knuckles and consciously tried to relax. She’d been in limbo for a decade, unable to settle. She’d always hoped that somehow she and Nate would get back together, but ten years had passed and neither had made the first move. So be it. Maybe their marriage was irrevocably damaged. Or maybe a spark existed of their former love.
One way or another, Angela thought, it was past time to resolve the situation.

LEAVING THE BALFA securely locked in front of Nester’s, Nate moved through the produce section, bagging fresh vegetables and fruit and tossing them into his shopping cart. Yes, sir, bachelorhood had lots of advantages, including healthy food instead of the junk Angela favored.
He rounded the end of the aisle and suddenly his cart collided with another, startling him.
“Whoops, sorry.” The grinning spiky-haired boy careening around the corner on the back of a loaded shopping cart looked anything but sorry.
“Careful, kid. You might have rammed an elderly lady instead of me. Hey, you’re Ricky, aren’t you?” Nate added, recognizing Janice’s son. “Where’s your mom? I thought she and your dad would be on their way to Europe by now.”
“They are. Look, I can do a wheelie.” Ricky, his feet planted on the frame, leaned back and pulled on the handle, causing the front of the cart to tip in the air.
“Ricky!” a woman called from the next aisle. “Where are you?”
Nate heard the voice and his heart jerked like a slipping bicycle gear.
An instant later Angela hurried around the aisle. “I’m so sorry about my nephew—” Seeing Nate she broke off as recognition dawned in her wide blue eyes. Polished fingertips raked through hair streaked with sunlight and honey. “Nate!”
“Hello, Angela. So you’re back.” He struggled to find a nonchalant tone. “That video you took out before you left is a tad overdue.”
Her V-neck top and cropped pants looked casual but expensive; gold circled her wrist and neck and hung from her earlobes. Clearly Angela had attained for herself the financial security she hadn’t believed him capable of.
Advantage of Bachelorhood Number 148: No extravagant wife to squander his hard-earned cash.
She planted one hand on a slender curving hip. “After ten years is that all you have to say to me?”
As if he should be the one to apologize. When they were married half the time he never knew whether he wanted to strangle her or make love to her. Nothing had changed. She might have the face of an angel but she had the devil’s own ability to make him toss common sense to the winds. Keep a lid on the anger, he reminded himself.
“I’ve got plenty to say but not in a public place.”
Her gaze dropped to the loose nylon shirt and reinforced shorts he wore for biking. “Are you still financing your hobby by working for your dad building log homes?”
Obviously, Janice didn’t keep Angela as well informed about him. Despite Angela’s lowly origins, or perhaps because of them, she’d been intensely dissatisfied with his apparent lack of ambition. Now that he was successful, he felt no inclination to justify himself to her. “I spend most of my time at the bike shop,” he said ambiguously.
“Ah, the same old Nate.” But she looked a little disappointed he’d lived down to her expectations.
“You look as though you’ve done well for yourself.”
Her chin tilted upward at a confident angle. “I’m marketing director for Businesswomen’s Weekly, a lifestyle magazine for professional women.”
“Very impressive.” He got the message. She was the same old Angela, too—tough as nails and in no need of him.
“It’s a temporary position,” she conceded. “The woman I’m replacing is on maternity leave but she may decide to stay away indefinitely in which case I’ll be permanent.”
The sound of tin cans falling over made Angela hurry on ahead. Ricky, one foot on the lower shelf, one hand gripping the top shelf, looked their way guiltily as canned tomatoes rolled at his feet.
“Ricky! Are you hurt?” Angela exclaimed as she reached his side. “If you want something from a higher shelf you should ask someone. What are you after?”
“Nothin’.” He hopped off the shelf and ran off down the aisle, leaving Angela frowning after him in frustration.
Nate came over, pushing both carts. “You’d better put the brakes on that boy before he takes complete control.”
“I’m perfectly capable of looking after my own nephew, thank you. Ricky’s just…high-spirited.”
Nate glanced at the assortment of cookies and doughnuts in her cart. “Sugar will do that to a kid.”
She took the cart from him and wheeled away. “I don’t need your advice.”
Nate followed. “I understand you’re looking after Ricky while Janice and Bob are in Europe. What prompted this outburst of familial devotion?”
“Janice and Bob haven’t had a vacation in years.”
“What about your job?”
“With e-mail and occasional trips to Vancouver I can work from here for a month.”
“A month!” Nate stopped in his tracks. “I thought their prize was a trip to seven countries in as many days.”
“A week seemed too rushed so they extended their vacation.”
“A month in Europe. Sweet. And expensive.” Janice was a waitress and Bob drove the shuttle bus that ferried skiers and sightseers between chairlifts. Nate had gotten the impression they were just scraping by.
“I helped them a little,” Angela said offhandedly. They came to the frozen-foods section and she paused to load some pizzas into the cart.
“You really haven’t changed,” Nate observed with a pointed glance at the pizza.
“There’s something different about you, though….” Wearing a puzzled frown, Angela paused and studied his face. Then she reached up to stroke one of his sideburns with her cool fingertips. “These are new.”
“What do you think?” He no sooner spoke than he wanted to kick himself for implying her opinion still mattered to him.
She took his jaw between her fingers and turned his face from side to side. Her perfume tickled his nostrils with memories and her touch was a torment. Play it cool, Wilde. And for God’s sake, keep that libido under control.
“I like them,” she said at last. “They’re kind of sexy.”
Sexy.
“How’ve you been?” he asked, and at that moment his voice decided to go all husky on him. He hoped he wouldn’t make an idiot of himself but with Angela there was no guarantee things would proceed according to plan.
Her gaze connected with his. “I’ve been okay. You?”
She dumped you, remember? Hardening his tone, he replied, “Great. Just great.”
Abruptly, her hand dropped from his jaw, as if she’d just realized what she was doing. “We need to talk. About us. Get things sorted out.”
“I agree.” He pushed his cart forward, remembering at the last minute to pick up some frozen juice. Angela could make him forget his own name if she looked at him the right way.
“You never wanted to marry again?” she asked conversationally as they moved into the next aisle.
He shook his head. “Some might say you scarred me for life.”
“Or spoiled you for anyone else.” She glanced sideways as if to see how he’d react to this and there was actually a twinkle in her eye.
Well, he wasn’t going to bite. He grunted and reached for a jar of pasta sauce to place in his cart.
“What about girlfriends?” Her words were delivered coolly, as if in only passing interest.
“Presently, no.” Something about her carefully averted profile made him ask, “Why? Do you want me back? Is that why you came to Whistler?”
“Oh! You are so arrogant.” She pushed her cart purposefully down the aisle. “I wonder where Ricky is.”
Nate thought about heading in the opposite direction but he refused to go out of his way to avoid further contact. It would look as though he couldn’t handle being with her. Following at a slower pace he caught up with Angela and Ricky in the confectionery aisle. Ricky was pulling bags of candy off the shelves and dumping them into Angela’s shopping cart.
“Not too many, Ricky,” Angela was saying. “Candy causes tooth decay.”
Unfazed by her remonstrations, Ricky tossed another bag into the cart.
“Sugar can also lead to diabetes and obesity,” Angela continued to reason unsuccessfully with the boy. “It stops you from eating more nutritious food.”
“Like pizza?” Nate couldn’t help interject.
Angela glared at him.
Ricky shrugged and pulled away from her. “I don’t care. It tastes good.”
Nate grasped the boy gently but firmly by the shoulder and turned Ricky around to face him. “While your aunt is looking after you, you do what she says. Now put all but one bag of candy back on the shelves.”
“You’re not in charge of me,” Ricky argued.
“Put it back.” Nate gazed steadily into the boy’s eyes. “Understand?”
“Yessir,” Ricky mumbled and squirmed out of Nate’s grip. Reluctantly he began to return the candy to the shelf.
Angela grabbed Nate by the arm and dragged him a few feet away. “How dare you interfere?” she demanded in a furious undertone. “I told you I would handle my nephew.”
Nate snorted. “Kids have to be taught limits. I’ll bet Janice doesn’t let him get away with stuff.”
“I suppose you’re an expert on children?”
“I have a young niece, and I work with kids, many of them from troubled homes.”
“Since when?”
“Since after you left. You know, an organized activity would help keep Ricky out of trouble.” Nate turned to Ricky who was kicking the wheels of the cart, bored with waiting for the adults. “Hey, dude. Do you like mountain bikes? I teach a course for ten to twelve-year-olds.”
“Mountain biking!” Ricky stopped kicking the wheels and perked up. “That would be so cool. I think my friend, Tim, is taking your course.”
“Tim Martin? Yes, he is.” Nate used to date Tim’s mother, Kerry, although for some months now they’d just been friends. “The course begins next week with classes on Tuesday and Friday. Do you have a mountain bike?” Ricky nodded. “Bring it down to Cycle Sports in the Village and my mechanic will check it over for you.”
“Wait just a minute!” Angela protested. “If you think I’m handing this unsuspecting child over to you, the king of daredevils himself, you’re nuts.”
“With appropriate precautions and proper training, mountain biking is perfectly safe,” Nate said, irritated.
“Oh, yeah? Remember the time you hit a boulder coming down Blackcomb Mountain and snapped your collarbone? Or the time you broke your arm when your bike hit a big root?”
Ricky listened eagerly, eyes round, mouth parted.
“I was riding tech trails, training for competitions.” Nate explained what Angela should have known perfectly well. “If Ricky doesn’t have protective gear I’ve got extra pads he can borrow.”
“And what about that close encounter with a spruce tree which ended with fifteen stitches?” She stood on tiptoe to peer at his right cheekbone. “I can still see the scar.”
“I don’t do stunts anymore and I haven’t had a serious injury in years.” He paused. “I stopped racing.”
That took her aback. “You gave up racing?”
Her skepticism wasn’t unfounded; for years racing had consumed him. He shrugged. “My priorities changed.”
“Too little, too late,” she muttered. “Come on, Ricky.” She walked away again, dragging Ricky by the hand while the boy looked longingly over his shoulder at Nate.
Fine, let her go. This time he wouldn’t follow. Nate lifted a hand in farewell. “Catch you later, dude.”
Nate finished his shopping and went through the checkout. By the time he’d packed his groceries into his empty backpack and unchained the Balfa, Angela was coming out of the store. Realizing that if they were going to talk they had to arrange a time and place, he followed her to her car.
While Ricky goggled at the Balfa, Angela opened the trunk of her car and began to lift bags inside. Her gaze flicked to the clouds massing above the mountains. “It looks like rain.”
Nate helped her load groceries and cast an educated eye over the sky. “The cumulus are building but higher up in the stratosphere winds are brisk. I don’t think we’ll see any rain until later tonight.”
Ricky took his awestruck gaze off the bike to peer up at Nate. “You sound like the weatherman on TV.”
“I study meteorology in my spare time.” Nate caught Angela’s surprised glance and added, “When you’re on a bike, facing a sheer drop off a mountain ridge, you want to know which way the wind blows.”
“Cool,” Ricky breathed. “Aunt Angela, I gotta go mountain biking.”
“Meteorology?” Angela repeated, ignoring her nephew. “Does this mean you finally decided on a direction in life?”
“It’s a hobby. Doesn’t Janice tell you anything?”
“She didn’t mention that.” She pushed her cart into the trolley bay and moved toward the driver’s side of the Dodge.
“You wanted to talk,” Nate said. He’d waited a long time for the chance to thrash things through; the sooner they got it over, the better. He glanced at Ricky who was watching them with avid curiosity. How much did the boy know about their situation?
Angela casually turned to her nephew. “Hop in the car, Ricky.”
Ricky glanced at Nate, Nate nodded imperceptibly, and the boy got in the passenger seat. Angela frowned at Ricky’s deference to Nate then seemed to shake off her irritation with an effort. “Where do we start?”
“How about with you running away?” He spoke forcefully, forgetting all good intentions about keeping his anger under control. “What the hell was that about?”
“We had a fight if you recall. You were pressuring me to start a family but you and your bike always came first. Face it, we weren’t even ready to marry. I was nineteen and you were twenty—way too young.”
“We had very different ideas of what marriage entailed, that’s for sure. I was in it for the long haul whereas you gave up when the going got rough.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said indignantly.
“You can’t argue with the facts. You only lasted a few months. Then when we fought you didn’t stick around to talk things out. Instead, you left me.”
“You let me go.” For an instant her features contorted in pain. Her eyes closed briefly and when she opened them again her face was composed. “Obviously you didn’t care enough to try to find me.”
“I did try, the next day, after I realized you’d gone to Vancouver and not to Janice’s. I couldn’t find you in any of the places she suggested looking. Where were you?”
She looked away, one hand gripping the car roof. “Okay, I admit that at first I told Janice not to tell you where I was—”
He threw his hands up. “And you blame me for our breakup.”
“—then I changed my mind, but you’d gone back to your stupid bike race.”
“Because it never occurred to me you would leave me for good. The prize money was a considerable chunk of dough—well, it seemed like it at the time—and I figured we would need it if we were going to start a family.”
Angela paled under her tan as she stared at him in silence. A moment later she was back on the attack. “How could we have afforded a baby with you spending all your money and time with your bikes?”
“That was an investment that paid off.”
“How was I to know that? I didn’t want any kid of mine growing up the way I did, nor did I want to end up a single mom in a trailer park if you got yourself killed falling off the mountain.” She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t happen because I know it does.”
“You never had any faith in me. If we’d had a baby do you really believe I would have let you and the child want for anything?”
“I don’t know and that’s the whole point. You were always off on your bike. The day after I left, instead of coming looking for me you were riding in some competition! I know bikes are important to you but they shouldn’t have been more important than me!”
“They weren’t! And if you hadn’t stayed away we might have worked out our differences.” That remark was met with a strained silence. Nate shook his head. They were going around in circles. “Now that you’re back, where do we go from here?”
Drawing a deep breath, she said, “We’ve been separated for ten years. It’s time to resolve the past and move on with our lives.”
His insides seemed to freeze. “Are you talking about a divorce?”
Her fingers twisted the strap on her purse. Her eyes were very bright. “Is that what you want?”
“Does it matter what I want?” he asked bitterly. After all this time the suggestion to make their split permanent and legal shouldn’t come as a surprise but somehow he wasn’t prepared for it. “Are you planning to marry again? Janice told me you were seeing someone in Toronto.” Damn. He sounded like a jealous husband.
“This has nothing to do with Albert. That’s over.”
A retired couple pulled their cart up at the camper van parked next to Angela and started loading groceries. Frustrated, Nate said, “We’d better finish this later. I’ll call you tonight.”
Angela started to turn away, then hesitated. “Ricky doesn’t realize we were married. It might be easier if we kept it that way.”
Now she was denying they were ever together. She got in her car and drove away, leaving Nate feeling as if he’d just cycled straight into a rock wall at eighty miles an hour.
He slung on his backpack, strapped on his helmet and pedaled off. Flipping the Shimano gears into a higher sprocket, he coasted down the ramp onto the highway with the wind in his ears.
Was this it, then? Were they finally going to break the last flimsy tie between them?
Advantage of Bachelorhood Number 149: Freedom.
Now that he thought about it, it sounded damn good.

CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT WOULD YOU RATHER EAT, a caterpillar or a moth?” Ricky said as if this was the most reasonable question in the world.
Angela was tidying the kitchen after dinner, or rather, attempting to, since her mind was flitting between her earlier encounter with Nate and their coming conversation. The wall calendar bearing the legend Wilde Log Home Construction that kept catching her eye didn’t help. Now she stared at Ricky, not certain she’d heard correctly. “I don’t know. What would you rather eat?”
“A caterpillar, of course,” Ricky replied. “It’s juicy and a moth is yucky and dry, like feathers.”
“I see.” She was not going to ask him how he knew.
Getting out the broom, she swept up the crumbs of their pizza from beneath the table. Janice’s house, with its pine furniture and cheaply framed photos, wasn’t anything fancy, but rag rugs, polished floorboards and chunky handmade pottery gave it a warm, comfortable feel. However, the clutter also made it difficult to clean and Angela spared a wistful thought for her immaculate minimalist apartment in Vancouver.
When she was done sweeping Angela set up her laptop on the kitchen table so she could work on her marketing plan for the next quarter while she waited for Nate to call.
Ricky moved closer and eyed her computer with interest. “Do you have any games on there?” She shook her head. “Tim’s got a computer with a ton of games,” he went on. “Dad said we’ll get a computer for Christmas. If we can afford it.”
“Uh-huh,” Angela said absently as she organized her notes while the laptop booted up. Then she realized Ricky was still watching her. “I guess my work can wait until tomorrow. Would you like to play a board game?”
“Board games are boring,” Ricky said. “I’d rather play with my Game Boy.”
“I don’t have one so we couldn’t play together.”
“How about cars?” he suggested.
“Grown women don’t play with cars unless they’re full-size luxury models,” she said, attempting a joke. Ricky didn’t crack a smile and she wondered fleetingly if kids, like dogs, could tell when a person was nervous around them.
“I’ll just go watch TV.” With a resigned sigh he went down the hall to the living room leaving Angela feeling as though she’d failed him somehow.
With a sigh of her own she inserted a disk into her computer and called up the file containing the spreadsheet of this month’s advertising expenditures. Again her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type, but her thoughts had returned to Nate.
All the way to Whistler she’d tried to steel herself for their first meeting but she hadn’t been prepared for the leap of her heart when she’d rounded the aisle and seen him standing there, a bag of muesli in his hand. His thick dark hair was still perennially tousled, as though he’d just taken his bike helmet off and run his hands through it. And he was as combative as when they’d been together. Back then they’d engaged in battles of wits as naturally as breathing, as frequently as lovemaking.
She could still recall the day they’d met. She’d been taking her break out back of the Whistler hotel where she worked as a chambermaid when he’d wheeled down the lane after winning a bike race, buzzing with testosterone and adrenaline.
With his hair falling over his forehead, tanned forearms and powerful thighs, she recognized him as one of the Wilde boys. Wilde by name, wild by nature. He was from a comfortably well-off family, not the type to notice a poor girl from Pemberton, a logging town half an hour north of the resort. Yet he’d stopped, made her laugh with his teasing banter, then asked her what time she got off.
“Why?” She’d wanted to know.
“I’d like to get to know you.” He stopped circling the lane, planted his feet on the ground and looked straight at her. “Angela.”
It was the way he spoke her name that got her—courteous, appreciative, attentive.
He’d laughed at her smart-assed comments and dished his own right back, yet he gave her the respect she’d always craved and hadn’t pressed when she refused to sleep with him before marriage even though they were going crazy for each other. Folks might think she came from trash but, by God, no one would ever have cause to say she had loose morals.
Funny thing, though, smart as Nate was, he’d never figured out that her tough act was all a facade.
Would he ask for a divorce or propose reconciliation? For her to suggest they get back together wasn’t an option; she simply wasn’t brave enough to risk rejection. Nate had loved her because he thought she was strong and fearless. Even now, when it might be over—especially now—she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him see how vulnerable she was.
It was an uncomfortable thought and enough to send her back to the spreadsheet on the computer screen. Busy with figures and plans, the evening slipped away.

NATE HANDED A BEER to his brother, Aidan, twisted the top off his own, then tilted back in his chair and plunked his boots on the top rail of his balcony. He’d built the log house himself in Alpine Meadows estate off Alta Lake Road, three years after Angela left.
Advantage of Bachelorhood Number 150: Resting booted feet wherever the hell he liked. It wasn’t one of his best, but hey, some days he took what he could get.
“I ran into Angela today,” he told Aidan. “She’s in town looking after her nephew.”
Aidan cast him a shrewd sideways glance. His wavy brown hair tapered to the collar of a shirt the same green as his eyes. “That must have been a shock. How long has it been—ten years?”
Nate nodded. “It was a surprise, all right. She wants a divorce.”
Eyebrows raised, Aidan gave a low whistle. “I’ve always wondered why you haven’t gotten one before this.”
“I never found anyone else I wanted to marry,” Nate said with a shrug. “I presumed the same was true for her, even though she was going with some guy in Toronto.”
“So does this mean now she wants to remarry?”
“She says not.” Nate reached for a handful of dried fruit and nuts from the bowl on the table between them. “She says it’s time for us to get on with our lives.”
“Maybe she’s right,” Aidan mused. “You’ve always wanted a family and you’re not going to get one while married to a woman you don’t live with.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He stared out over the valley. Below, a shaft of the setting sun broke through the dark clouds to reflect off a bend in the poetically named River of Golden Dreams, a slow-moving stream that meandered through low bushes between Alta Lake and Green Lake, flanked by the paved Valley Trail.
Aidan sipped his beer. “What did she say? How did she seem?”
Nate summarized the encounter for him, finishing, “She was just so…Angela.”
Aidan smiled. “Sassy? Sexy?”
Nate breathed out on a long sigh. Angela was to sexy what scent was to a rose, what juice was to a mango. She was also strong, ambitious and determined. A late riser, a junk-food eater, a smart-mouthed runaway bride. Okay, newlywed; counting their whirlwind courtship they’d lasted nearly six months.
“You’re still in love with her,” Aidan said, making his own deductions from Nate’s silence.
Jolted out of his thoughts, Nate twisted around in his chair to glare at Aidan. He’d never told anyone he pined for Angela, not even his family. He had his pride. “Why would you say a thing like that?”
Aidan chuckled. “You poor deluded sap. You should hear yourself when you talk about her.”
His brother’s jibe irritated Nate. “When you get over Charmaine long enough to pull down all the froufrou and lace in your house then you can talk to me about Angela.”
Aidan’s smile faded. His focus dropped to the bottle he twisted between clenched hands. “Charmaine—” He broke off, unable to speak of his late wife, dead these past six years.
Nate winced at his thoughtless cruelty. “Sorry, buddy, that was out of line. As for Angela, no way am I still in love with her. Nor will I make the mistake of falling in love with her again.”
Aidan gave him a disbelieving glance and wisely skirted away from the subject of wives. “Have you heard from Marc lately?”
“Mom got a letter from him yesterday. Apparently he’s in Pakistan trying to round up a cameraman brave enough to venture into the tribal areas with him. I’ve heard the police won’t even go in there.” Nate shook his head in dismay. They sometimes joked that Marc had a death wish because he sought out the most dangerous spots on the planet to go looking for a story. Nate met Aidan’s gaze. The joke just wasn’t funny anymore, if it ever had been. “One of these days his luck’s going to run out.”
Aidan took a swig of beer. “He’s going to try to make it back for Mom’s birthday this weekend.”
“That would be good.” Nate paused, then asked after Aidan’s young daughter. “How’s Emily?”
“She can ride her two-wheeler without trainers, and she’s already getting excited about starting first grade in the fall.” Aidan dug through the remaining nuts to pick out the cashews. “What are you going to do about Angela? Will you contest the divorce?”
“I doubt if I have any grounds to do so.” Nate blew softly into the top of his beer bottle, sending out a haunting sound that mingled with the sweet tinkle of the wind chimes at the end of the balcony. Dusk had come early and with it, the rain. A few drops fell onto the rail, making dark round splotches on the wood.
Setting the bottle aside, he said, “Angela dumped me in the most hurtful way possible, not to mention she makes me crazy. But here’s the thing…when I’m with her, I feel alive in a way I never do without her. She brings more excitement to my day than the adrenaline rush of the slickest single track.”
Aidan frowned, trying to understand. “I thought you said you weren’t in love with her. Are you telling me you are going to attempt to reconcile?”
Before Nate could reply, the squall broke in a noisy rush and spattered the balcony with soaking rain. Nate and Aidan quickly gathered up their bottles and dragged the chairs under the overhanging roof. Nate glanced at his watch. After nine o’clock. It wasn’t too late to call Angela but he felt drained and too confused to tangle with her on the phone. Tomorrow would do.
He brushed the water off his head and noticed Aidan was watching him, still waiting for an answer.
“If I make a mistake once, I can learn from it,” Nate said. “Make the same mistake twice and I’d be a fool, wouldn’t I?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Aidan said. “Too bad, though. I always thought you two were great together.”
So had Nate. He sighed. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

ANGELA LEANED BACK from her laptop, yawning and stretching. Ricky was being awfully quiet. Then she glanced at the clock. Could it really be eleven p.m.?
Nate hadn’t called.
She saved her work and, pushing back her chair, went to the living room. Ricky was asleep on the couch in front of the TV where a movie unsuitable for ten-year-olds was playing. Recriminations flooded through her. She shouldn’t have let him stay up this late. She should have monitored what he was watching.
“Ricky, wake up. It’s time to go to bed.”
The boy yawned and mumbled sleepily. “Just a little longer.”
“No, it’s after eleven.” Angela reached for the control and clicked the TV off. In the silence she could hear the patter of raindrops being blown against the windowpane. “Tomorrow we’ll do something fun, I promise.”
Suddenly he looked wide awake, a crafty light in his eyes. “Mom always reads to me before bed.”
“But it’s so late.”
“I’m on holiday.”
“Aren’t you old enough to read by yourself?” She suspected he was stalling but she couldn’t be sure. Janice had left pages of detailed instructions regarding Ricky that Angela hadn’t had time to go over yet.
“Yeah, but I like it when Mom reads.”
“Oh, what the heck. Go get ready for bed first.”
Ricky disappeared down the hall and came back a few minutes later dressed in his pajamas and smelling of toothpaste and soap. He looked sweet, not terrifying at all.
Angela followed him to his bedroom and sat on the bed. “Do you have a book?” she asked, expecting him to produce something like Lassie Come Home.
He handed her a slim volume with a lurid cover. She read the title. “The Day My Bum Went Psycho? Are you serious?”
“It’s really funny.”
“I’ll read one chapter, okay?”
She ended up reading five chapters because Ricky kept pleading for more and because the zany story was surprisingly amusing. Finally her throat got sore and she set the book aside. “Time to say your prayers.” That much she knew Janice insisted on.
Ricky hopped out from under the covers and kneeled by the bed, bowing his head. “Now I lay me down to sleep…” His high-pitched voice mingled with the steady beat of rain on the shake roof.
Angela listened, remembering herself and Janice at a very young age as they kneeled by their cots on a threadbare rug to repeat those familiar comforting words.
“…God bless Mom and Dad and keep them safe on the airplane. God bless Auntie Angela and keep me safe so she doesn’t worry.”
Angela smiled but she had to glance away; Ricky’s slender nape above his pajama collar looked so vulnerable it made her heart hurt. When had she stopped saying her prayers? Probably around her seventh birthday when her father walked out and her mom started drinking and Angela had learned prayers didn’t get answered. Night after night she’d comforted her little sister, pretending to Janice that everything would be all right when inside she felt terrified and utterly abandoned.
Why hadn’t Nate called?
“…God bless Tim and keep him safe so…well, just so he’ll be safe. Thank you, Lord. Amen.”
Ricky clambered back into bed and Angela wondered if he would hate it if she tried to kiss him good-night. She tickled him instead, making him giggle.
On impulse she said, “Tomorrow we’ll go down and register you for the bike course.”
She thought he would be delighted but his young forehead furrowed with worry. “How are we going to pay for it?” he asked. “I heard Dad tell Mom before they left that they were so far over dawn they’d never see daylight again. It doesn’t make sense but I’m pretty sure he was talking about money ’cuz he had his checkbook out.”
“He meant overdrawn.” She bit her lip to stop herself from smiling at his mistake. There was nothing funny about a kid having to worry about his family’s finances.
How often in her own childhood had her mother told her they couldn’t afford something? Daily, at least. Not things like mountain-bike courses or the latest fashion, but more basic items like exercise books for school or shoes. Sometimes they couldn’t even afford food until the next welfare check. Even though her mother was long dead and those days far behind her, Angela could still remember the shame.
“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for the course as an early birthday present. And I’ll buy you your own elbow and shin pads so you can use them afterward.”
Ricky’s face lit. He sat up in bed and flung his arms around her waist, pressing his head against her chest. “Thank you, Auntie Angela. Thank you so much!”
Angela, treasuring the feel of his small body, clung a moment too long and he squirmed out of her embrace. “Quit calling me ‘Auntie,’” she scolded to cover her awkwardness. “It makes me feel a hundred years old instead of twenty-nine. Just Angela will do.”
“Okay. Thanks, Angela. You’re the best.”
“You’re welcome.” At least she’d gotten something right where he was concerned.
The next morning Angela and Ricky drove into Whistler Village with Ricky’s bike in the back of the station wagon. They parked in one of the day lots and walked the bike through the pedestrian-only streets, looking for Nate’s store.
Cycle Sports was a long narrow shop off the Village Square. Bikes were hung around the perimeter, shock absorbers and wheel forks covered the ceiling and every inch of available floor space was packed with rows of tires or shelving containing biking shirts, shorts, gloves and other paraphernalia. Customers browsed or stood about in small groups, talking trails and bikes. Nate wasn’t the only one around here obsessed with mountain biking.
Ricky gravitated to a shiny new bike set up on display. Angela went to the front desk where a girl with short blond braids was stocking a display of sunglasses. Dressed in a halter top and lycra shorts she had the slim, hard body of an athlete and a killer tan.
“Excuse me…Rachel,” Angela said, glancing at the girl’s name tag. “I’m looking for Nate. Is he working today?”
“I’ll get him for you.” Rachel poked her head through a curtained doorway behind the desk. “Hey, boss. Someone to see you.”
Boss. A blunt-fingered hand pushed the curtain aside and Nate appeared, his dark hair a sharp contrast to the pale blue of his bike shirt. Even after all this time he still set her pulse racing.
“Are you the manager here?” she asked incredulously.
“I own the store.” There was more than a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
Angela vaguely recalled Janice saying something about a bike store but when it came to Nate and mountain bikes she’d always tuned out. She couldn’t get over the change in him from the free and easy young man she’d married. Back then he’d worked only until he had enough to pay the bills, sometimes not even that much in the prelude to a big race. Now she marveled at Nate’s confident air of authority—a maturation of his youthful cockiness she hadn’t anticipated.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked.
“I’ve been thinking your class might be good for Ricky, after all. We’ve brought in his bike for you to look over.”
Ricky, hearing his name, came over to where they were standing. Nate handed him a brochure of the Whistler Bike Park. “Check that out, dude.” Then he signaled to a young man with burnished gold dreadlocks. “Chris, could you get down a ladies’ bike for Angela, here, to try out?” His gaze traveled expertly over her five-foot-five frame. “Twenty-two inch, hardtail.”
“Angela, listen to this,” Ricky exclaimed, showing her the brochure. “The bike park has over four thousand vertical feet of trails.”
Angela shuddered at this frightening mental image. “More than I need to know, thanks.” As Chris moved to the rack of hanging bikes, she protested to Nate, “We’re here for Ricky, not me.”
Nate smiled at Angela. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you both.” Turning to the boy, he went on, “Ricky, why don’t you take your bike through to the workshop. Kevin, my mechanic, will look after you.”
“Okay.” Ricky shoved the brochure into his pocket and headed back outside where he’d left his bike chained to a stand.
Chris wheeled a silver-and-blue bike to where Angela and Nate were standing.
“Thanks, Chris,” Nate said to his employee. “Kevin is going to check over Ricky’s bike. Make sure the boy finds his way to the workshop, will you?”
“No problem.” Chris moved off.
Angela glanced about; the store was abuzz with bike talk and the steady ka-ching of the credit-card machine. She didn’t know much about mountain bikes but from the price tags she could tell these were top of the line. “Your store seems prosperous. I’m impressed.” She paused. “And, I must confess, a little surprised.”
Nate flipped a lever on the bike and lowered the seat. “I’m opening another store soon in Vancouver.” He gave her a wry smile. “Turns out I’m a lot better at business than I ever was at carpentry. Ironic, eh?”
Angela glanced away from the dry expression in his eyes, and the implied reproach for not believing in him.
Nate put a hand on her arm and guided her to the bike. “Put a leg across so I can check the stand-over height.”
Angela, still surprised by this new Nate, complied before she realized what she was doing. But when he crouched to inspect the gap between her and the silver steel tubing she hopped off. “I thought you were going to call me last night.”
He shot her a quick glance. “Sorry about that. Aidan came over and we had a few beers. I…lost track of time.”
He’d forgotten about her. Again, but so what? She’d been gone so long she couldn’t expect to be top of Nate’s list. Just as he wasn’t on top of hers. “How is your brother?”
“He’s…okay.” Nate added in an undertone, “Do you know about Charmaine?”
“Janice told me she lost her bearings on top of Whistler Mountain during a blizzard and fell to her death. I’m so sorry.”
“Aidan was with her.” Nate paused as if uncomfortable with what he had to say but compelled to go on. “People talked. There was a lot of rumor and speculation….”
She knew what he was trying to tell her and her heart went out to him, Aidan and their whole family. “Aidan adored Charmaine. He would have done everything in his power to save her.” Angela spoke with total conviction, squeezing his arm to emphasize her support.
Nate nodded, looking both relieved and grateful she’d taken that point of view. For a split second they were almost like a couple again. Then he set the bike to one side and said, “Let’s go find Ricky.”
Angela followed him across the store and around a partition to the workshop. Ricky was standing beside his upside-down bicycle watching Kevin, ultracool in silver-framed dark glasses and a choker made of links from a bike chain, adjust the brakes.
“I also teach the class basic repair and maintenance,” Nate told her. “Ricky will learn to do more than just careen down a hill.”
Angela nodded. Nate had always been fanatical about maintaining his bikes. “What about safety?”
“Mountain biking is about enjoying the outdoors and gaining confidence in your physical and mental abilities, not about breaking your neck doing kamikaze stunts.”
“Couldn’t have proved that by you when we first met,” she said dryly.
“I was young and foolish. Everybody grows up sooner or later.” His gaze raked over her. “Don’t they?”
She lifted her chin. “The smart ones do.”
“You learn to take calculated risks,” he went on. “With solid technique training and experience the kids in my classes push themselves beyond what they ever thought possible. If they’re really good they’ll get hooked on the whole mind-body fusion.”
“Zen and the art of mountain biking?” she said, eyebrows raised.
“More like Jedi-master training.” His dark eyes twinkled but she knew he wasn’t entirely joking. When he was cycling hard, deep in the zone, she knew he went to someplace she couldn’t follow, could hardly fathom.
Then his expression sobered and he jerked his head, motioning for her to follow as he moved a few paces away. Angela cast a glance back at Ricky as she did so, but he was fully absorbed in watching Kevin.
In a low voice Nate asked, “So what’s involved in a divorce?”
They were back to that. How quickly he’d leaped at the idea of making their split up permanent and legal. “I…I looked into the procedure. I’ve got all the documents ready. If I file—”
“If?”
She searched his eyes. Help me out here, Nate. Give me a reason not to do this. Seconds ticked by in silence. Nothing. “When,” she amended heavily. “You then have a couple of weeks in which to contest it. I’ve got to warn you, my lawyer told me you don’t have any grounds.”
“Don’t worry.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Life’s too short to try to win the same woman over and over again.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“You figure it out.”
Dismissing his cryptic comments, she went on. “Once the appeal period is finished I file the actual petition for divorce and we wait for the judge to make a decision. That’s little more than a formality—we wouldn’t even have to go to court.”
“How very convenient.” For some inexplicable reason, that seemed to make him angry. “Easy come, easy go.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she said coldly. “A matter of weeks and it will all be over.” She paused and studied his set expression. “This doesn’t mean we have to end up enemies. Unless you enjoy battling me.”
Suddenly he gave a snort of genuine amusement. “Maybe I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a sparring partner of your caliber. You’re almost as much fun as an ex as you were when we were married.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.” But she couldn’t suppress a reluctant smile. Good Lord. Their relationship hadn’t changed—it still had as many ups and downs as one of Nate’s precious bike trails, rolling swiftly from confrontation to humor and back again. No wonder it had taken her ten years to recover from the first time around—if this state of semiconstant agitation she felt when around him could be called recovery.
She glanced again at her nephew and changed the subject. “I’m not totally convinced this bike course is a good idea. If something happens to Ricky while he’s in my care I’ll never forgive myself. Janice will never forgive me. I’m going to worry the entire time he’s on the mountain.”
“Why do you think I got that bike out for you?” he said. “I know you’re concerned about Ricky’s safety. You can tag along with the class and make sure he’s okay.”
Angela uttered a short incredulous laugh. “Me, go mountain biking? You’re crazy.”
Nate shrugged. “If you don’t have the guts…”
Darn him. He knew she never backed away from a challenge. Well, two could play at that game. He hated having his integrity questioned. “Why would I need guts when you told me it’s not dangerous. Were you lying?”
“Maybe you’re afraid of more than physical danger,” he growled. “Maybe you’re afraid of spending time around me in case you find that what you really want is to have me back.”
Part of her had been hoping he would tease and cajole her into admitting she didn’t want to make their separation permanent. But this wasn’t good enough; he wasn’t giving away any of his own feelings. “You wish!”
Nate strode over to a filing cabinet against the far wall, whipped out an application form and placed it in front of her. His expression was a mixture of challenge and triumph. “Sign up, then.”
“Oh! You haven’t changed,” she said with an exasperated laugh. “You’re still the same arrogant bastard you always were. But I’ll do this to spend time with my nephew.” She scribbled her signature at the bottom of the sheet of paper and threw the form back at him, maddened and at the same time highly stimulated by the exchange. “There. Satisfied?”
One corner of Nate’s full mouth curled up. “For now.”

CHAPTER THREE
“CAN I RIDE OVER TO TIM’S HOUSE?” Ricky asked after lunch. “I want to tell him I signed up for the bike course.”
Angela rose to clear the dishes off the table. “Where does he live?”
“Toad Hollow.”
This was the fanciful name given to a quiet court in the Tapley estate, the older part of town where Nate’s parents, Jim and Leone, lived, and only a short walk away along the Valley Trail from Janice and Bob’s house in Whistler Cay.
“I’ll come, too, and visit…friends.”
At least, she hoped Leone would still regard her in a friendly light. When Angela had married Nate, Leone had been like a surrogate mother to her, and after raising three boys, Angela became the daughter Leone never had.
They set off—Angela on foot and Ricky on his bike. White clouds hung over the mountains, obscuring the peaks, but the valley was bathed in sunlight. This section of the Valley Trail bordered the Whistler golf course and Angela’s gaze was drawn to a group of players teeing off. She should have thought to bring her clubs.
Ricky rode slowly at first, keeping pace with Angela until she waved him on ahead after extracting a promise that he be home by five o’clock. She was glad of a few minutes alone to prepare for meeting Leone. Maybe she shouldn’t just drop in but Wednesday had always been Leone’s day off from her job as a public-health nurse and Angela was counting on her being at home.
Angela strode briskly along, imagining all the things she would say to her mother-in-law—things she couldn’t say to Nate.
I’m sorry I hurt everyone, Leone. Running away was the biggest mistake of my life….
Leone would embrace her warmly. You’ll always be a cherished member of the Wilde family. Nate never stopped loving you….
Angela rounded a bend and encountered a middle-aged woman striding along in walking shorts and a royal-blue T-shirt. “Leone!”
After a moment of initial surprise Leone’s green eyes hardened. Her face was flushed with exertion and perspiration dampened her short auburn hair. There was no welcoming smile on her round face.
“I was on my way to see you…” Angela’s words died away as her idiotic fantasies turned to dust. Leone would offer no reassuring phrases or warm embraces. Angela had wounded this woman’s son. Had hurt her. For the first time Angela wondered how much of her decision to stay away from Whistler for so long had been to avoid facing the consequences of her youthful actions. “I should have called first.”
Leone expelled a forceful sigh. “You can walk with me if you want.”
Angela lengthened her stride to keep up with the older woman. “You’re looking well.”
“I’m still trying to work off the five pounds I gained during the Caribbean cruise Jim and I took last Christmas.” She cast a sideways glance at Angela. “I was shocked when Nate told me you were back in town. What happened all those years ago? Why didn’t we ever hear from you?”
“I sent a Christmas card the first year—”
“With no return address!”
“I’m sorry,” Angela said quietly. “I figured no one would want to contact me after I ran out like that. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“I thought you and I were close,” Leone reproached her. “If you needed someone to talk to, you could have come to me.”
Angela gave Leone a troubled smile. “Nate is your son. You would have sided with him.”
Leone was silent a moment. “Possibly, but I would have understood. Sometimes Nate lets his pride get in the way of his good sense. I had no idea you two were having problems.”
A bicycle bell tinkled behind them and they moved to one side of the path to allow a pair of cyclists past. Angela was glad of the chance to collect her thoughts instead of blurting out the real reason she’d run away—her pregnancy.
“Maybe I should have come to you. You might have been able to give me advice on how to cope with being a cycling widow,” Angela said instead. “I know Nate’s made a success out of his biking, but back then it seemed as though the sport was more important to him than our marriage.”
“Anyone who loves Nate has to accept that cycling will always be a major part of his life. Don’t begrudge him his passion, Angela.”
While Angela was trying to think of an ungrudging response, Leone went on. “So after all this time you’ve come home to get a divorce.”
“Did Nate tell you that?” Angela felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach. Had she been wrong in thinking that the gleam in Nate’s eye as she’d signed up for his bike course meant he wasn’t indifferent?
“No, Aidan did. News travels quickly among the Wildes. But don’t worry,” Leone added, misinterpreting her expression. “We don’t spread gossip outside the family. Too much of that goes on in this valley as it is.”
“Nate and I are…” Her words trailed away as she tried to figure out exactly what they were to each other and ended up repeating what she’d said to Nate. “We’re not enemies.” It seemed a poor alternative to happily married.
They came to the railroad crossing and Leone paused to glance down the empty track. “It’s a blessing you didn’t have children although I doubt Nate would agree.”
Angela gave her a sharp glance. Leone was a nurse. Had she suspected her daughter-in-law had been pregnant when she’d fled? Perhaps not. Leone’s face gave no hint her remarks might refer to actual events. Angela should have relaxed but instead she felt even more troubled and again experienced an urge to confide in Leone. Until she recalled Leone’s own words. News spreads quickly among the Wildes. This was one piece of news she had to tell Nate in her own time. Which would be never.
Trees had given way to bushes and through gaps Angela could see the gentle currents of the River of Golden Dreams. River of Lost Dreams was more apt.
Her steps slowed. Leone’s eyebrows raised questioningly. “I…I think I’ll turn back,” Angela said. “I should do some work this afternoon while Ricky’s occupied at Tim’s.”
“Suit yourself.” Leone hesitated and Angela hoped she would unbend and give her a hug but the moment passed. “Have a nice stay in Whistler.”
As though she was tourist. “Thanks. I will.”

“SQUIRT THE LUBRICANT BETWEEN the sprockets, Ricky—not too much,” Nate admonished. “Wipe the excess off the paintwork.”
They’d ridden the chairlift with their bikes—a lesson in itself—to the mountain bike training area on a plateau partway up Whistler Mountain. Nate strode among the group of eight youngsters signed up for his course giving instructions on basic maintenance. He paused beside Tim, a red-haired freckle-faced sprite. “Try using the smaller wrench to tighten that nut.”
Nate went over all their names again, glancing at each in turn to commit them to memory. Besides Ricky and his friend Tim, there were Sean and Lee, two twelve-year-old boys from Squamish whose fees he’d waived because they were from disadvantaged homes. Cocky and at times belligerent, they’d been in trouble for minor offenses. Nate expected they’d settle down by the end of the course; these kids usually did once they got interested in something besides getting into trouble. Lisa and Jill were eleven-year-old best friends who dressed identically, right down to their puka beads and pink-corduroy overall shorts. Eleven-year-old David and his younger brother Mark were stocky and fair-haired, earnestly taking in every word Nate said.
And then there was Angela.
With her glossy hair and sleek figure she looked delectable in Lycra shorts and shirt. When she’d realized she had to hunker down and actually work on her borrowed bike she’d gone inside the ski hut and come out with sheets of paper towel. These she’d laid on the ground to kneel on.
“You’re going to have to get over your fear of dirt if you’re going to ride off-road,” he said, squatting beside her.
“I lived the first half of my life battling dirt, whether it was in that awful trailer I grew up in or other people’s messes I was paid to clean,” she replied. “Now I live in a brand-new apartment. My clothes are clean. My hair is clean. My fingernails are clean. Nothing will induce me to go back to being dirty. Not even you.”
“We’ll see.” He shifted his weight, one leg bent beneath him, his arm resting on his upright knee. “I’m surprised you’re going through with this. The day you came down to the bike shop I was just baiting you.”
“I know. You always did when we were together.” She paused, greasy rag pinched between two fingers, to appraise him. “Now that we’re apart I wonder why you bother.”
“You make it so much fun.”
“Well, knock it off.” She nudged him with an elbow, unbalancing him.
Nate righted himself with a smile he quickly wiped from his face. How was it he could be so angry with her on some levels yet still enjoy her company?
“Ricky is thrilled that I’m taking the course,” she went on. “I overheard him bragging to Tim that his aunt would be riding, too. Last night he was really sweet, telling me all the hazards I might run into and how to get around them. Frankly, he gave me nightmares with all his talk about doing ‘endos.’ Are those what I think they are?”
“Flipping end over end, or in other words, falling headfirst off the bike over the handlebars? Yep. So why are you going through with it?”
She shrugged, as if she couldn’t quite understand it herself. “I don’t want to let him down.”
“That’s as good a reason as any. By the end of the course you’ll be doing it because you love it.”
“Huh!” she said. “Don’t bet on that.”
When they’d completed a half hour of basic maintenance, Nate took them over to the training course, a series of small hills, obstacles and teeter-totters which were perfect for teaching the kids to develop balance and technique. Last night’s downpour had left puddles in several locations and low-lying sections of the track had turned to mud.
“Today I just want you to get a feel for off-road conditions,” Nate told the class when they’d lined up, ready to start. “Try to avoid mud. Your mothers will thank you and your bikes will thank you.”
“When are we going to do single track?” Sean demanded loudly. “I wanna get airborne.”
“By the end of the course you’ll be flying over moguls and navigating deer trails,” Nate told them. “Before you tackle anything like that, you need to build your skills and stamina. Today you’ll learn to ride in the ready position, as in ready for anything. Keep your butt off the seat and your arms and legs loose, letting your knees and elbows act as shock absorbers. Sean and Lee, you two can lead off but no hotdogging.”
The older boys shot forward with the girls close behind. Gradually the class strung out in a line with Sean way in front and Angela trailing behind. Nate rode back and forth along the trail, encouraging his students and offering tips on when to change gears and how to brake safely in loose dirt.
He noticed Angela toiling grim-faced up a slope and slowed his pace to accompany her. “Drop down a gear and you’ll find pedaling easier. No, the other lever. Push it the opposite direction—” He winced at the clashing metallic sound of gears being ground. “You’re supposed to stop pedaling before you change gears. Haven’t you ridden a bike before?”
“Not since I was twelve. My old Raleigh had one speed—slow.” She made another attempt but with no forward impetus her bike stopped dead, wobbled and fell over. She jammed a foot out but the chain scraped her calf, leaving a long red welt on smooth shapely legs that likely hadn’t seen a scratch or a bruise in years. She struggled to right the bicycle, swearing under her breath.
“Now, now,” Nate chastised as he backtracked around her. “Remember there are children present.”
“They’re all miles ahead.” She glared at him. “Are you going to circle like a buzzard waiting to pick me off, or are you going to help me!”
Nate tried not to smirk and didn’t quite succeed. “I’m afraid sitting on the bike and pedaling is something you have to do for yourself.”
She growled something under her breath but he could tell she wasn’t as angry as she was making out.
“Pardon?” he said. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Be quiet and let me concentrate. It isn’t easy balancing on uneven ground. Why can’t we ride on pavement to start?”
“Then it wouldn’t be mountain biking, would it? If you’re not up to it, you can still quit…”
“I don’t quit. Instead of harassing me you should be up ahead, looking out for Ricky. That kid’s liable to ride off a cliff just to see if he can do it.”
“I can take a hint. Careful of those gears.”
He surged ahead on the trail, counting helmets. Every child was upright and accounted for. The older boys were on their second lap with Ricky and Tim not far behind. “You’re doing great, boys. When you’ve gone around twice wait by those logs where the ground levels out and we’ll practice wheelies.”
One by one the kids finished the course and came to sit on the logs, their bikes beside them, drinking from water bottles and chattering about the ride so far. Angela still hadn’t joined them.
Nate rode back over the trail wondering how she could have gotten lost. The course was big enough that riders were occasionally out of sight but not so large she couldn’t find her way to the end.
And then he saw her, smack in the middle of a boggy dip off-trail. The bike was stuck up to its axles and Angela was trying to push it out, her shorts and T-shirt thickly splattered with mud.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nate demanded.
She glanced up and pushed back her hair, streaking her cheek with grime in the process. “I mastered the gravel and was looking for more of a challenge.”
“Bull,” he said, laughing. “You were so far behind you were embarrassed at being beaten by a bunch of kids and decided to take a shortcut.”
Planting muddy fists on her hips, she demanded, “Are you going to get me out of here, or what?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me one good reason why I should. You disobeyed my orders to stay on the trail.”
“You can’t just leave me here!”
“You, I could happily leave. My bike, I’m going to rescue.” He swung a leg off the Balfa, popped out the kickstand then strode into the mud. “Stand back.” Grasping the bike by the handlebars and saddle, he heaved it free.
He set the bike on the trail and went back to help her. Ignoring his extended hand she stalked to dry land with her chin in the air and her running shoes making a sucking noise with every dragging step.
Angela went to wipe mud off her cheek and noticed her hands were filthy. She rubbed them on her shorts and they came away dirtier. Gritting her teeth she tried using her shoulder to scrub her face but couldn’t reach the spot.
Nate suppressed his laughter and moistened a clean rag from the pouch on the back of his bike with water from his drink bottle. “Brown really isn’t your color,” he said, handing her the damp rag.
“Thanks.” She wiped her face, shuddering a little when she saw the mud that came off.
“You missed a spot.” With his thumb he dabbed at a smudge near the corner of her mouth and she tilted her face so he could wipe it more easily. Their eyes met. The dirt, the trail, even the bikes faded out as the air between them crackled. He had to admit, they still had chemistry. But what good was chemistry if they weren’t getting involved again?
“What’s this Albert character like?” he said, dropping his hand. The question had been bugging him for a long time.
She went over the spot near her mouth he’d just cleaned. “I told you, it’s finished.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“He’s a nice man who was supportive when I needed a friend,” she said.
That didn’t sound like grand passion. Nate hated to admit he felt relieved. “Then why did you leave him?”
“The relationship wasn’t working for either of us anymore.” She used the cloth to scrub at her fingers. “He’s…older than me.”
“How old?”
Avoiding his gaze, she said, “Fifty-two.”
“Fifty-two!” Nate exploded. “My father is fifty-two. That’s it, isn’t it? You were looking for a father figure. Security.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice lacked conviction.
“Were you in love with this joker?”
“We were very fond of each other. There was mutual respect. Love is for teenagers.”
That last statement didn’t ring true; not for Angela. Despite the grinding hardship of her childhood she’d had a deeply romantic streak. Nate grasped her by the shoulders and drew her closer. “When did the passionate woman I married turn so cynical?”
Angela trembled beneath his hands. He watched her gaze travel from his eyes to his mouth. As he struggled to keep his own desires under control he realized she wanted him to kiss her, whether she would admit it, or not. Well, she would have to ask.
Instead, she drew back suddenly. “Passion doesn’t equal love.”
Nate snorted. “Did Albert know you didn’t love him?”
“Of course. I was completely honest with him. He didn’t love me, either. But he was good to me. He never hurt me.”
“I never wanted to hurt you, Ange.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you, either. Nevertheless, we did.” She spoke flippantly, as if the pain and loneliness he’d endured meant nothing.
“You ran away.”
“You let me go.”
When he made no reply to her counteraccusation, Angela glanced away again. If he didn’t know better he would have thought she was trying to hold back tears. But Angela was too tough for tears. A moment later, his assessment was confirmed when she turned back to him, her blue eyes dry and fierce. “What do you want from me? Anything?”
Yes, he wanted something. He wanted to not compare every woman he met with her. He wanted to not imagine her in bed with other men. He wanted her to admit she was wrong to run away so his heartbreak wouldn’t have been completely in vain.
But he couldn’t say all that so he got back on his bike. “The kids will be waiting to continue the lesson.”
He rode ahead, glancing back over his shoulder to check on Angela. She was pedaling so slowly Nate could have walked faster but she wasn’t giving up until she completed the ride.
His gaze veered west across the valley and beyond. Over the ocean the sky was clear and a balmy breeze was blowing in from the Pacific. Cloud patterns on the horizon promised continued fine weather ahead. Pity life wasn’t so predictable, or so temperate.
When he’d asked her about filing for divorce, at first she’d said if, not when. If. A little word with big implications. But he wasn’t sticking his neck out again, not without something more concrete to go on.

ANGELA HEATED UP two servings of frozen lasagna for dinner and because she knew kids should eat their vegetables, she popped some frozen French fries in the oven.
“You’re a really good cook, Angela,” Ricky said later, tucking in with gusto. “Mom hardly ever makes this kind of yummy stuff. She and Dad like stir-fries and vegetable soup.” He made such a gruesome face, Angela had to laugh.
“Glad you like it, kiddo.” Angela helped herself to a small portion of lasagna. “I’d love to make stir-fry. I’ve just never taken the time to learn how.”
The phone rang and Angela got up to answer it.
“Angela? It’s Janice.”
“Janice! Where are you?”
“Amsterdam. We’re having a great time. The weather’s perfect, the food is wonderful. We’ve seen the Van Gogh museum and today we’re going on a canal boat ride.”
“Do you want to talk to Ricky? He’s just eating dinner.”
“Let him finish. How are you doing?”
“I’m glad you called. Somewhat against my better judgment I signed Ricky up for Nate’s mountain-bike course. Mountain biking can be dangerous, Janice. If you say no, I’ll pull him out.”
“Aside from the expense…”
“I’m giving it to Ricky as an early birthday present.”
“Angela, thank you. You’re too good to us. I wish there was some way I could repay you.”
“It’s nothing, really. Don’t even think about it.” Angela took the cordless phone and wandered into the living room.
“Then as long as Ricky wears padding and a helmet, I can’t see why not. Nate’s great with kids. Plus, you’ll get a break from looking after Ricky.”
“Not exactly. I signed up for the course, too.”
“You’re kidding! What are you up to? Is this a ploy to get Nate back? If so, I predict he’ll crack in a week.”
Angela groaned and threw herself into an armchair. “He’s the most aggravating man I’ve ever known.”
And the most exciting. But their confrontation on the bike track had brought home to her that she couldn’t just ignore their unresolved issues and pick up where they’d left off even if she wanted to. What she didn’t understand was why he hadn’t kissed her when she was so sure he wanted to. That wasn’t like the Nate she thought she knew.
Casually, she added, “It’s odd Nate never hooked up with anyone else even though we both agreed years ago we could go out with other people. Has he had any serious relationships?”
“I’m always trying to give you the gossip on Nate but you barely listen to a word about the man.”
“When I was three thousand miles away I didn’t want to know who he was dating or be reminded of what I’d left behind.”
“Nate doesn’t exactly confide in me about his love life but I’ve seen him with quite a few women over the years,” Janice said. “He’s an attractive guy, Angela. You shouldn’t have let him alone so long.”
“Never mind that. Who’s the latest?”
“Kerry Martin, Tim’s mom. Nate went out with her for over a year.”
“Kerry Martin. Wasn’t she the girl in high school with horn-rim glasses and greasy braids?”
“That was then. Now she’s got contact lenses, changed her shampoo and looks like a million bucks. She and her husband divorced a couple of years ago. After he moved out she turned their chalet into a bed-and-breakfast.”
“So is Nate still seeing her? He told me he didn’t have a girlfriend.”
“According to my friend Phyllis, who cuts Kerry’s hair, they called it quits by mutual agreement. Kerry was angling for a wedding ring and Nate wasn’t free to commit.”
“Yet he didn’t get in touch with me to ask for a divorce. Interesting. Although,” she added hastily, “that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“What would you like it to mean?” Janice teased.
“Don’t be annoying, little sister,” Angela said. “Anything else I should know?”
“I forgot to mention, there’s a trunk full of your things in the garage Nate dropped off years ago. You might want to go through it.”
“I will. Hang on, Ricky’s done. Give my love to Bob.”
While Ricky chatted to his mom and dad, Angela finished her lasagna then went out to the garage. Behind the gardening tools and spare car parts was a stack of cardboard cartons full of Christmas decorations and Halloween costumes. On the bottom was the old steamer trunk Janice mentioned. Angela moved the boxes aside and dragged the trunk into a clear spot.
The latches were rusty but she managed to prize them up and lift the heavy lid. Inside were clothes—had she really worn that awful blouse?—books and a shoe box full of bundles of tissue paper. Curious, she started to unwrap them. Oh! Her eyes filled with tears. It was the set of china horses she’d collected as a girl.
One by one she pulled out the little bundles and unwrapped her precious figurines. There was the rearing black stallion, the gentle bay, the prancing chestnut, the palomino and her favorite, the dapple gray with the silver mane and tail. During their marriage Nate had teased her about her beloved horses. When she’d left she’d wanted to send for them but she’d been too embarrassed, and presumed Nate would have disposed of them as junk.
Instead, he’d wrapped them individually in tissue paper and stored them carefully. Gratefully she kissed the gray on the nose and tucked it back in its place.
Next she found a plastic bag full of brown-and-cream wool and the half-knit Nordic style sweater she’d started making in secret for Nate’s birthday. Digging through the balls of wool she found the pattern and circular knitting needles. It seemed a shame to waste the effort that had already gone into the sweater; she might as well finish it for him. Tie up loose ends, so to speak.
Piling everything else back into the trunk she carried the shoe box and the sweater back to the house. She was arranging the little horses on the table, her back to the door into the hall when she heard the sound of the front door opening. “Ricky?”
“No, me.” Nate appeared in his bike shorts and shirt, his helmet tucked beneath his arm. “Ricky let me in. I’ll only stay a minute.”
Instinctively Angela spread her arms in front of the table where her horses stood. “It’s okay. Where is Ricky?”
“Out front, riding his bike. You should be practicing, too. It’s important to master the basics before you get on a tech trail.”
“Oh, please. Do you realize how silly I feel attempting a maneuver called a ‘wheelie’? Imagine what I’d look like cavorting on the street like a kid on my bike.”
Nate’s gaze traveled past her to the china horses with a faint smile. “Since when did you care what anyone thought of you?”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I was going through my old trunk. Thank you for saving these. It means a lot to me.”
He shrugged, as though it was nothing. She pushed the bundle of knitting spilling from the plastic bag back inside and hung the bag over the back of the chair before he could ask what it was. “Do you want coffee?”
“No, thanks. I really can’t stay. I only came to give you this.” Nate ripped open the Velcro tab on his shorts pocket and removed a slightly bent card with a computer-generated color picture of balloons and streamers floating above clinking wineglasses. “My mother wants to invite you to her birthday party this Sunday. She said to apologize for the short notice. You can bring Ricky, if you want. There’ll be other kids.”
“I’d love to come,” Angela said, accepting the card. “Did your mom mention I ran into her on the Valley Trail the other day?”
Nate nodded. “She seemed to think she wasn’t very welcoming. She didn’t want any hard feelings.”
“I appreciate that.”
The silence grew a little awkward. Nate glanced out the window. The sun had gone below the mountains and the luminous blue sky was fading to dusk. “I’d better go. It’ll be dark soon.”

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