“Yeah,” he agreed, his rough, soft voice bringing me out of my daze and I lifted my head and pulled away, coming off the back of the snowmobile.
I walked close to the edge and stopped, drinking in the view for long moments before I pulled my little digital camera out of my pocket. I started snapping photos knowing the endeavor was useless. No photograph could capture this. This vista had to be experienced.
Max got close to my back and I couldn’t avoid him without going over the edge and, furthermore, his arm came around me at my chest. He pulled me into his front and before I could protest he spoke.
“Dad used to bring us here all the time,” he said quietly.
I stared at the landscape and something about his tone made me drop my camera.
“Us?” I asked though I told myself I was no longer being an idiot, it was worse. I shouldn’t ask, I shouldn’t care, I shouldn’t want to know.
But I did.
His arm tightened around my chest, bringing me closer. “Kami used to bitch constantly all the way. Said she wanted to be with Mom, which meant she wanted to be with her friends in town.”
Before I could bite back the word, I asked, “Kami?”
“My sister.”
“Your Mom didn’t come here with you?” I was looking at the landscape wondering who in their right mind wouldn’t want to go there and mentally kicking myself for my questions, not wanting him to share and really not wanting to be the one who urged him to do so. He was fascinating enough just being him, I didn’t need to hear his life stories.
“Mom and Dad were divorced.”
“Oh,” I said and forced myself to leave it at that.
Max felt like talking, however. “Happened when I was about six, Kami four. Dad and Mom both lived in town but we still only saw Dad every other weekend, unless we ran into him or somethin’ was happenin’ at school.”
“My parents were divorced too,” I told him and then clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t need to know about him and he certainly didn’t need to know about me.
“How old were you?” he asked.
“Young,” I evaded a direct answer.
His arm got tighter, his fingers curling around my shoulder, not happy I avoided a direct answer.
“How old, Duchess?”
I sighed then repeated, “Young,” and before he could prompt further, I went on, “very young. So young, I don’t remember them ever being together.”
“Rough, baby,” he whispered but I didn’t tell him it wasn’t. I didn’t tell him it was sheer luck my father walked out of my life because not far down it, he came right back in.
I decided to change the subject and remarked, “It’s lovely, your Dad being able to give you this.” I motioned to the panorama with my hand.
“Yeah, except it came to me because he died.”
My body jolted and I turned in the curve of his arm so I was facing him.
“Sorry?”
“I inherited the land when he died.”
His face was blank which gave away the depth of emotion he was hiding.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Long time ago, honey.”
“I’m still sorry.”