eased away from him. “Don’t, Jeremy, please. Not now.”
“All right, what do you want me to do? What do I have to say to make you give up this crazy idea and stay in Manhattan? You want to move in with me? Okay, that’s what we’ll do. Finish packing your things and I’ll have a moving truck here to pick them up tomorrow afternoon.”
There was a time that was exactly what she had wanted. She had believed Jeremy Hauser was the man of her dreams. It hadn’t taken long to discover he wasn’t. She still didn’t know how she’d convinced herself for more than a year that he would change and things would work out between them.
“I don’t want to move in with you, Jeremy. I want to do exactly what I’ve got planned. I want to fly out of JFK on Canada Airlines tomorrow morning at 7:29 A.M. I want to land in Vancouver, change planes, and fly to Whitehorse, where, after nearly eleven hours in the air and a two-hour layover, I’ll be so exhausted I’ll crawl into my bed at the River View Motel without even turning on the TV. The following day, I want to pick up the Ford Explorer I’ve leased from National Rent-A-Car and be on my way to Dawson City.”
He looked so stunned that Charity reached out and caught hold of his hand. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but I’m twenty-eight years old and I’ve never done a single thing that’s really exciting. Just once, I want to have an adventure. Haven’t you ever wanted to do something a little bit crazy? Something you’ve secretly wanted to do but never had the nerve?”
“No.”
She sighed. “Both my sisters are doing things that are interesting and exciting. Patience is getting ready to go on the rodeo circuit and Hope is traveling around the country, writing freelance magazine articles. They’re living their dreams and I want to live mine, too.”
“Patience is doing research for her Ph.D.,” Jeremy argued, “and Hope is trying to salvage her flagging writing career. You have a very successful career. You’re a fiction editor at a well-respected publishing house. You should be happy with that.”
“Well, I’m not, and I’m tired of arguing with you about it.” She turned and ushered him out of the bedroom, tugged him across her small living room to the front door. “Go home, Jeremy.” She removed the chain lock and pulled the door open. “I have a feeling that as soon as I’m gone, you’re going to realize our relationship wasn’t going anywhere anyway. You might even be grateful to have your freedom again.”
Jeremy’s mouth thinned but he didn’t argue. He wasn’t in love with her and deep down he knew it—she was simply a convenience. That kind of relationship was enough for Jeremy but not for her.
“You’re going to be sorry, Charity,” he said, stepping out into the hallway. “Unfortunately, by the time you figure that out, it’s going to be too late.”
Charity cringed as he slammed the front door. Poor Jeremy. Maybe someday he would find a woman who would be content to simply live her life through his. In the meantime, it wouldn’t take him long to get over her. His feelings just didn’t run that deep.
Charity sighed as she returned to her packing, including a pair of long underwear she had purchased on-line from Cabellas, an outdoor sporting equipment and clothing store. Unlike Jeremy’s superficial idea of caring, Charity knew if she ever really fell in love it would be deep and abiding, the forever, can’t-live-without-you kind of love. It was the sort of love her mother and father had shared, the sort she hoped she would be lucky enough to find for herself someday.
In the meantime, she wanted a little excitement in her life.
Though her deteriorating relationship with Jeremy had been the catalyst for her decision to leave New York, living an adventure like this was something she had dreamed of since she was a little girl. Her father, Edward Sinclair, had been a professor of history at Boston University in the city where Charity was born. As a child, she and her sisters, Hope and Patience, had grown up with tales of medieval knights and damsels in distress, Robin Hood, and Red Beard the Pirate. For all three sisters, the need for adventure burned like a fire in their blood.
At Glenbrook Publishing, Charity had edited action/adventure novels by authors like Cussler, Higgins, and Clancy. Though the stories were purely fiction, each one fueled the hidden passion that burned inside her. Charity loved them and secretly read even the ones that were published by her competitors.
Then one day it happened—the chance for an adventure of her own. In The Wall Street Journal, she spotted an article titled “Twenty-First-Century Gold Rush,” a story about inexpensive mining claims for sale in the Canadian Yukon. It described the rugged outdoor life and the financial opportunities offered by some of the claims. Charity felt as if her destiny had finally arrived.
Two weeks later, after hours spent searching the Web for mining information and poring over stacks of library books, she contacted a real estate broker in Dawson City where the newspaper article had been set. A dozen long-distance phone calls later, she used half of the money she had inherited when her grandfather died last year to make an offer on a twenty-acre gold claim.
A photo of the property the owner called the Lily Rose, arriving via the Internet, showed A cozy one-bedroom cabin on a wild, rushing stream. The cabin, the advertisement read, has modern, indoor plumbing, a convenient kitchen, and a rustic rock fireplace. Existing furniture and mining equipment are included.
It sounded perfect to Charity, who closed the all-cash sale ten days later.
Smiling at the memory, she stuffed a last heavy sweater into her soft-sided bag, then struggled to buzz the zipper closed. She was only taking two suitcases: one with her can’t-do-without personal items like shampoo, makeup, and hair spray, the other with jeans, sweaters, tennis shoes, and hiking boots. She wasn’t sure exactly what else she would need so she had decided to buy the rest once she got there.
The good news was she was keeping her apartment. Hope, the oldest of the three Sinclair sisters, had agreed to move in next week and pay the rent for the next six months. Hope had an idea for a string of magazine articles that revolved around happenings in New York, London, and Paris. Charity’s small apartment worked perfectly as an affordable base of operations.
And six months was perfect. She didn’t plan to move away for good. An adventure was simply that. Once it was over, she would return to New York and decide what to do with the rest of her life.
Charity grinned as she thought of the exciting journey she was about to undertake, and set the second suitcase beside the front door.
CHAPTER TWO
There’s a land where the mountains are nameless
And the rivers all run God knows where.
There are lives that are erring and aimless
And deaths that just hang by a hair.
There are hardships that nobody reckons
There are valleys unpeopled and still.
There’s a land—how it beckons and beckons
And I want to go back, and I will.
—Robert W. Service
By the time the plane taxied to the gate and the passengers dispersed at the Whitehorse Airport—Canadian time 3:09 P.M.—Charity had been in the air eleven grueling hours. Her neck had a kink the size of a hen egg, her back ached, and her mouth was so dry she couldn’t spit if she had to. God, she hated flying.
She consoled herself with the fact that she had arrived safe and sound. “Cheated death again,” she whispered when the wheels hit the ground and she was still in one piece. The airport just north of town was small but appeared to be well run, or so she thought as she collected the first of her bags off the conveyor belt.
Unfortunately, the second bag—the one with her makeup, toothbrush, vitamins, nail file, and facial cleansers—failed to arrive. Realizing she was the last person left in the baggage claim and the conveyor belt had stopped moving, she wearily trudged