Free The Spy I Loved by Dusty Miller Page A

a good time to mention the northern lights.
    Her mouth
was opening to speak.
    He turned
around to head for the kitchen and that’s when she saw the
scars.
     
    ***
     
    Taking
her courage and her fate into her own hands, as she was so wont to
do of late, Lindsey breathlessly told Liam about the aurora. He
insisted on pouring a drink for her, straight scotch. He sipped
speculatively, looking at her until she took a nip of her own, the
fiery liquor burning a hole down her throat.
    “ Whoa. But that’s good.” She’d tried it at school, of course,
at one party or another.
    It did
the job well enough.
    Only then
did Liam allow her to drag him, glasses in hand, out onto the beach
for a look.
    He stood
stunned for a moment, still holding onto her hand. Standing there
at his side, he could smell her clean hair, and feel her warm
breath when she turned to speak. Out on the lake, a loon called.
Liam had been hearing yaps and long, mournful calls. He wasn’t sure
if that was wolves or coyotes but it was sure as hell one or the
other.
    “ It’s lovely. Amazing.” He tore his eyes away and looked up
again, sensing her pleasure at this much attention.
    Lindsey
took another quick gulp of liquor.
    “ We could go for a boat ride.”
    That calm
face turned to regard her steadily.
    It
sounded as corny as all hell, and she hastened to assure him that
they could use his boat as it had navigation lights.
    “ I’m not suggesting a canoe.” She giggled quietly, finally
letting go of the poor man’s hand. “It really is something, but
it’s not for everybody.”
    Was she
challenging him?
    It sure
sounded like it.
    “ So what do you think?”
    He could
not help but grin wryly and nod thoughtfully, like a proper
gentlemen.
    Shit.
    They
agreed to get sweaters and jackets and meet at the dock in five
minutes.
     
    ***
     
    Lindsey
drove the boat with Liam sitting on the foremost seat and looking
up at the sky. They were bundled up, both wearing long pants and
jackets. She was glad they had changed, for a small plan was
forming in her mind. The bulk of the lifejacket, tightly strapped
around her was a real comfort.
    They were a kilometre, maybe more, away from the camp. The
last faint pinpricks of light at the end of civilization and
society had disappeared. The boat chugged along, engine idling. She
switched it off, listening intently to the silence as if expecting
to hear some remark, someone on shore marveling at their nerve or
their good fortune…or something. Of course no one cared. Most
probably, no one had even noticed their departure. Night fishing
was less popular, but plenty of them did it. She looked around, but
didn’t see any other lights out there. It was a change for the
jaded fisherman, as much as anything else. It was a shitty thing,
but it was like everything in her life seemed to come back to
this place in
some kind of never-ending metaphor.
    Finally
someone spoke.
    “ ...my cover story is that I am retired, collecting a small
pension and pecking away at my novel. The thing is to stay in
character and not draw unnecessary attention to
myself...”
    That made
her laugh. The boat rocked, but not uncomfortably.
    “ Oh, come on. It’s not that bad, is it?” She sat there looking
up at the colours, the bands of pink, orange, rose and blue that
swirled and danced in the heavens above.
    Water
lapped the hull, rocking the boat. Boats flexed and there was
always some little leak and there was always something splashing
around down below. She turned on her light and had a look, finding
a cupful or two sloshing along the keel line. It was more sound
than fury. She switched off again.
    He let
out an odd little noise. His dim form shifted around on the front
seat and the bottle gleamed in the starlight. She was amused when
he lit the pipe, hastily stuffed into a pocket with a pouch of the
aromatic weed.
    “ No. It’s just that I really was burned out. And I’ve gotten a
job offer—it’s in the private sector. The money is