Unknown Diners

Chapter Twenty-One

After hugs and kisses, Catherine, Lorne and Michael stood in the kitchen sharing the news with Rachel. She offered excited congratulations, then asked, "So when did you two start seeing each other?"

Catherine gazed into Lorne's eyes, smiled and winked. "Thirty years ago on Cypress Street, playing doctor as four-year-olds in Lorne's garage. But recently, three days ago — maybe it's four. The time has been stuffed full."

"Kids and then a few days, that seems quick. I'm sure there's a story here. You always write wonderful twists in your novels."

"It's a long story, Mummy. In many ways with him, a long one." She winked at Lorne.

"So this is little Lorne down the street. He's certainly grown up superbly. I've always enjoyed seeing him at tastings and on his visits here. Good for my..." She giggled. "I'm reading too many of Kate's books. Why are we all standing around here? There are comfortable places waiting on the patio, and lunch is nearly ready. You go on through, I'll be a few minutes here. So good to see you again. And so happy, both of you."

"I'll stay here and help Mum get lunch ready and fill her in on the details — on the backstory. I'm sure she's dying to hear the girlie stuff."

Catherine gave a synopsis of the relationship, beginning with running into Lorne again in their third year of university and the steamy letters. Then she talked about her futile attempts to interest him beyond a wonderful friendship.

"And he never got the hint?" Rachel asked.

"No, and he didn't even connect me to little Kate on Cypress. The funny thing is that for a dozen years I thought he knew. To him, I was just a delightfully friendly woman."

"Oh my, that is funny."

"It's much more complex, though. He secretly adored me, fantasised about me, sexual fantasies. Much like mine about him. A dozen years of mutually unrequited horniness."

"Why didn't he do anything about it? He's always seemed so confident, so aware, so sharp."

"It's complex. Extremely complex. I don't want to spoil lunch. We'll talk later."

"This seems so soon after Nathan. Shouldn't you wait a —"

"Mummy, you know the frustrations I had with him. God! You and millions have read about them, his attitudes and his behaviour, his two-minute specials have been written into so many of my characters. He never caught on." Catherine turned to the counter. "Everything looks ready. Is there anything else?"

"No, this is it. Michael has the wine going out there already, I'm sure. Grab the other tray. Let's go join them."

Lorne and Michael were talking sailing when they arrived with the trays and set them on the cradles. The sailing conversation continued into the beginning of their lunch. "This goat cheese travelled the furthest to our plates," Rachel inserted in a lull in the sailing wind. "It's from Saltspring Island. If you stand, you can see their pasture." She raised an arm to point. "The walnuts are from the bottom of the hill here, the spelt for the crouton is from fields four kilometres away, and the greens are all from our garden. We love to eat local."

Michael looked at Rachel, then at his plate to see he had barely started his warm goat cheese salad, and the others had nearly finished. "Sorry, Dear. Not often I find a sailor I enjoy sharing with. I had no idea he sails. The salad is delicious." He took a bite and smiled sheepishly at her.

"You should enjoy it," she said. "You put them together before you drove down to the pier. All I did was heat the cheese. I'm simply reminding you to continue eating it. Go on back to your sailing talk. I always enjoy the look you get in your eyes when you're fully into something. I need to catch up with Kate, anyway."

The men returned to talking sailing while Catherine continued talking about her relationship with Lorne.

Partway into the quiche, Lorne paused and looked at Michael. "Catherine was telling me you've done some climbing."

"Not much anymore, at seventy-two, my joints are getting a bit stiff. I still get up Arrowsmith once or twice a year and..." He eyed Lorne's broad shoulders and muscular arms. "You climb?"

"Yes, but much less now. Too busy with my writing and my researching. A couple of days ago I decided I was done with my serious stuff. Sad, but it's time. I've done many wonderful climbs... Classic routes."

"What's your favourite?"

"Hands down, Mike's Folly on Colonel Foster. What a wonderful free-climb that is. It was the first route up the mountain after so many others had failed. Put up in 1968 — amazingly, solo. It's still the classic route. Have you done it?"

"Yeah, the first in 1968, then did the second ascent in '69, then —"

Lorne shouted, "NO! YOU CAN'T BE. Oh, my God! You're Mike! Oh, my God!"

Catherine put her hand on Lorne's arm. "What's up?"

"He's my climbing hero, my inspiration, the one who dragged me from the doldrums of despair after..." He paused and looked at her with questioning eyebrows, then he saw her understanding nod. "After my escape." She squeezed his hand and leaned to kiss it.

"Mike Walsh is such a common name — like John Doe. I never even thought... Wine and mountains are so far... Oh, my God!"

They all sat quietly until Catherine said, "There's a lot of story here. A lot of dark story. He's been through hell — several hells and survived. Let's continue lunch now. I'm excited to taste the berry tarts."

Lorne and Michael's conversation switched from sailing to climbing. In the 1960s, 70s and early 80s, Michael had pioneered many of the routes that are now considered classic. His climbs are prominently written-up in the guidebooks, with such comments as Dick Culbert's: Good to see a little insanity has survived in the march of climbing technology.

"Repeating your routes gave me a focus, a challenge. I figured if they had been done solo once, they could be repeated the same way." Lorne paused and tilted his head. "One of the things that's always puzzled me. Why did you stop your serious climbing so suddenly? Your last was the first ascent of Noel in the Stikine."

Michael smiled and nodded toward Catherine. "Her. My sweet Katy. I didn't want to risk having her lose her father. I was into my late thirties, and the fates had been kind to me. I had seen too many climbers die —"

"You never told me that, Daddy." Catherine looked at her father with tears welling in her eyes. She rose and rushed around the table, knelt beside his chair and hugged him. "You're such a sweet, loving man. Such a wonderful father."

"I think Lorne said a few minutes ago he's doing the same thing — stopping the high-risk climbing. Sounds as if you two are planning on finally giving us a grandchild."

She blushed, then peered into her father's eyes. "I'm fertile with the full moon, and he's been busy in the furrow planting seeds." She gave him a sheepish grin. "We're hoping." 

"You and your plot twists and your clever turns of phrase." Rachel was now kneeling at her side, joining the hug. "You said there'd be more good news."