style="font-size:15px;"> Max sat on the sofa. He set his drink down and picked up the plate of food. Steak tenderloin, mashed potatoes, a corn cake—Marilyn’s special recipe. And some broccoli, which Nor knew he wouldn’t eat, but she put it on his plate because she thought it was important he eat more vegetables.
“Looks good. All my favorites. You remembered.”
“Don’t,” she warned him. “Don’t try to read anything into that. It’s food.”
Max held up his hands as if in surrender, then reached for the corn cake and took a bite. Savoring the flavors in this mouth.
“God, that’s good. You can’t know what it’s like to eat nothing but fish for years.”
Cautiously, like she was in the room with a caged beast, she sat in the chair across from him.
“I guess it’s time you told me your long story.”
* * *
ELEANOR ALMOST DIDN’T want to hear his story. It seemed like it would make her too invested in him again. It would be better to simply to tell him to leave now. They could handle everything—the divorce, his parents’ affairs—all by mail, then that would be the end of their story.
Nothing so dramatic as a lost ship, a story of survival and returning from the dead.
But she supposed she had to know.
He shrugged after eating the last of her mother’s famous corn cake, literally licking the crumbs off his fingers.
“We ran into a storm. Not sure why the captain didn’t have more notice. But it was a bad one. Waves coming over the bow, we just took on too much water. The ship was going down. We took to the life rafts with not much hope. I broke my leg in the effort. The pain was... I don’t like to think about it. We drifted for days. The two crewmen with me died. I thought I was going to, as well. I don’t know if I passed out or slept. The next thing I knew, I was on a fishing boat and someone was giving me water. We landed on a small island off the coast of Iceland. Completely isolated from any kind of civilization. The best I can equate it to would be like an Amish community here in the States.
“A small village, not more than a few hundred people. Living off the land. Good people, but they spoke a Nordic language I didn’t understand. They had absolutely no English. My femur was broken. Their version of a doctor set it, but I couldn’t put any pressure on it for months. Then I was sick with pneumonia. I didn’t think I was going to survive that either without antibiotics. I pulled through it eventually with their natural treatments. It was months before I could walk, months after that to get my strength back. Then it was just a matter of waiting for a commercial fishing boat to pass by, one with the ability to communicate to the people of the village and me to explain I needed to get on it somehow. There were months I thought I would be stuck there for the rest of my life. I fished with them. I ate with them. Then, finally, a commercial fishing boat appeared. I was able to talk to the captain, convince him I needed to leave. The crew sailed me out to the ship, and eventually I made my way to Iceland.”
That was also typical Max, she thought. She’d counted no less than three near-death experiences, but he brushed over all of that like they were just facts in some other person’s story. As if none of it touched him.
“And when you got back to Iceland?”
“It was difficult. I wasn’t...used to people. It took me time to assimilate again. Eventually, I made my way to the U.S. consulate. Told them who I was and what happened. They reached out to the university to tell them I was alive. I kept trying to call my parents... It wasn’t until I got to the States that I learned what happened. Someone from the university met me at the airport. Told me about the accident. Told me what you had done for them. Now here I am.”
“Here you are,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. For your loss of them. They were such good people. You should know that after you...after you were declared dead I spent time with them. The three of us were together. We all sort of overlooked the fact that I had been in the process of divorcing you.”
“I didn’t think you would do it,” he said quietly. “I never thought you would really leave me.”
“I know.”
Max leaned forward, his hands loosely linked together. “I’m sorry I left, Nor. God I’m so sorry.”
“Not sorry enough that you didn’t turn around and get back on another ship.”
She watched him wince. As if she’d slapped him. She hadn’t meant to cause him pain. Or had she? When the four months passed, she’d been determined to resist every effort he would make to win her back. Positive in the knowledge that he would have taken the first plane he could to be by her side.
That he hadn’t even bothered to try winning her back had been crushing in its own way.
“I had a plan,” he said roughly.
“You always had a plan, Max. It just didn’t include me.”
“You’re wrong.”
Eleanor sighed. “It really doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now. What’s important is what we do moving forward.”
“I agree.” He nodded. Then he reached for the bourbon and took a healthy slug.
“So, I’ll talk to my attorney when I get to Denver. I’m sure the papers are still on file somewhere. She should be able to just pull up the file. There was no property. I had saved some of your old books and things. I had given them to your parents after... But when I settled the estate, I donated anything I could to the local library. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was dead.”
“And I gave all your clothes to Goodwill. Sorry again.”
He laughed. “Again, don’t be. I lost about twenty pounds, and I haven’t been able to put it back on. I’ll need new ones anyway.”
Eleanor could see that. Max was tall at six-two, but two plus years ago he’d been broader in the chest and stomach. Now he looked leaner but still just as strong. Like a man who had been doing physical labor on a fishing boat for the past few months. Rather than just gathering data.
She didn’t want to think about how he looked, though. The changes to his body underneath the clothes.
Yes, a naked Max should be the last thing on her mind.
Eleanor swallowed. “In addition to the divorce papers, I can have my attorney draft a letter that will transfer the trust fund I set up with the residuals from your parents’ estate to you. Also I’ll need to deed over the cabin to you.”
That had his eyes perking up. “You kept the cabin?”
“I...I couldn’t let it go.”
He liked that. She could tell by the expression on his face. As though it was important to him that she couldn’t let it go.
That cabin was where they had spent their honeymoon and handful of other times when they had just wanted to get away. The cabin was a place filled with memories of making love for hours on end. With no thought or care in the world but each other.
