Northern Lights

way. It won't help him."
    "Meg saw him."
    "And it ripped her up. I was there; I know it. You want to do something for him, for yourself ? You want to find your closure? Make time to go see your daughter. Be her mother, Charlene. Give her some comfort."
    "She doesn't want comfort from me. She doesn't want anything from me."
    "Maybe not. But offering it might help you." He got to his feet. "I'm going out to see her now. Anything you want me to tell her?"
    "You could tell her I could use a hand around here for the next couple of days, unless she's got something more important to do."
    "Okay."
     
     
    IT WAS FULL DARK when he got back to Meg's. He could see she looked calmer, steadier and more rested. The position of the pillows and throw on the sofa told him she'd had a nap in front of the fire at some point.
    He'd figured out the best way to handle things and handed her a bouquet of mixed mums and daisies he'd picked up at The Corner Store. They weren't particularly fresh, but they were flowers.
    "What's this for?"
    "See, I realized we were working backward, in the traditional sense. I got you into bed, or you got me, so that pressure's off. Now I'm romancing you."
    "Is that right?" She sniffed at them. Maybe it was a cliché, but she had a weakness for flowers, and men who thought to offer them. "Then the next step would be what, a pickup at a bar?"
    "I was thinking more of a date, dinner, say. But you could pick me up in a bar. That works for me, too. Meanwhile, I'd like you to pack some things and come back with me to The Lodge for the night."
    "Oh, so we can still have sex during this romancing period."
    "You could get your own room, but I'd rather have the sex. You could bring the flowers, too. And the dogs."
    "And why would I leave the comfort of my own home to have sex with you in a hotel room?" She twirled the flowers, watched him over them. "Oh, for the thrill factor in our backward relationship. It's stupid enough to appeal to me, Burke, but I'd as soon stay here, and we can pretend we're in some cheap motel room. We can even see if there's any porn on cable."
    "That sounds really good, but I'd like you to come back with me. Someone was skulking around in your woods the other night."
    "What are you talking about?"
    He told her about the tracks.
    "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this when it was light, so I could see for myself ?" She tossed the flowers down on the table and headed for her parka.
    "Hold on. It snowed, a good six inches. You won't be able to see anything. Otto and Peter already tromped around in there anyway. I didn't tell you before because you had enough on your plate. This way you had a nap and some quiet time. Pack what you need, Meg."
    "I'm not going to be driven out of my house because somebody walked around in the woods. Even if I want to take a page out of your book of paranoia and conclude he or she was spying or up to some nefarious plan, I wouldn't be driven out. I can—"
    "Handle yourself. Yes, I know."
    "You think I can't?" She spun on her heel, marched into the kitchen.
    When he came in behind her she was yanking a rifle out of the broom closet.
    "Meg."
    "Just shut up." She checked the chamber. To his distress, he saw it was fully loaded.
    "Do you know how many accidents go down because people keep loaded weapons in the household?"
    "I don't shoot anything by accident. Come out here."
    She pulled open the door.
    It was dark, it was cold and he had an irritated woman with a loaded rifle on his hands. "Why don't we just go inside and—"
    "That branch, two o'clock, seven feet up, forty feet out.
    "Meg—"
    She shouldered the rifle, got her bead and fired. The blast of it boomed in his head. The branch exploded, six inches in.
    "Okay, you can shoot a rifle. Gold medal for you. Come inside."
    She fired again, and the six inches of branch jumped on the snow like a rabbit.
    Her breath steamed out as she fired again and obliterated what was left.
    Then she picked up her spent shells, walked back inside and replaced the rifle.
    "A plus on marksmanship," Nate commented. "And though I have no intention of letting it come to that, I will point out that blasting the shit out of a tree branch isn't anywhere near the same level as putting a bullet into flesh and bone."
    "I'm not one of your dainty Lower 48 women. I've taken down moose, buffalo, caribou, bear—"
    "Ever shot a human being? It's not the same, Meg. Believe me, it's not. I'm not saying you're not smart or capable or strong.