Hero in Disguise Read online

  The request tantalized her with renewed awareness of him as a man, not an icon, and the firm pressure of his hand closing over hers set off a little explosion of unexpected pleasure. “All right.” She looked into his eyes and tried out his name. “Douglas.” Immediately she felt an erosion of formality, an expansion of possibilities.

  “Second of all, can you get away from your job anytime tomorrow and visit the encampment? I think you’d be interested.”

  It was an invitation that could be interpreted many different ways. Perhaps it was an empty courtesy, although the warmth in his eyes belied that assumption. Or maybe he was only behaving like a teacher who jumped at every chance to instruct an available student. Or he might be asking her as a man would ask a woman to spend time with him. The last possibility had her heart beating faster. Then she remembered his wife. A year after Sheila graduated he’d married the teacher from Sugar Creek.

  She pulled her hand from his and pasted on a smile. “I can sure try, Mr. W—Douglas.”

  “Good. I’ll look for you. I’d better get back, and I’m sure you have work to do. See you tomorrow.”

  He left before she could throw out some statement about not being positive she could make it. She was pretty certain that he expected her, but she didn’t want to go. There was no point in kidding herself; she was still attracted to him. In high school she’d thought of it as a hopeless crush, considering that he was a teacher and had a girlfriend. Thirteen years later it was still a hopeless crush, unless Douglas was the kind of man who didn’t let marriage stop him from engaging in flirtations or even full-blown love affairs. She didn’t want to discover that about somebody she’d always admired.

  With a sigh she returned to the registration desk.

  Abby was busy with a couple who needed directions to Gates Department Store on the square in downtown Tyler. Abby obviously hadn’t recognized Douglas Wagner as he walked out, either. When she’d supplied the couple with a map and sent them on their way, she turned expectantly toward Sheila. “Well? Got a date with that handsome devil?”

  “You mean that handsome devil who’s taught government at Tyler High for thirteen years?”

  “Get out of here! That wasn’t Mr. Wagner!”

  “I’m afraid it was.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Abby sputtered. “It’s not possible. Not with a behind like that.” She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror and glanced around, as if worried that someone might have overheard her. “You’re not kidding me, are you? It really was him?”

  “Yes, it most certainly was. You were drooling over your high-school history teacher.”

  “How embarrassing! I’ll bet you just about died. Did he recognize you right away?”

  “Right away.” Sheila hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but it was remarkable, considering he’d had hundreds of students over the years.

  “Well, your hair’s the same color, and you still look a lot like you did back then. I’ll bet he wouldn’t remember me, though.”

  Sheila thought of Abby in high school, a chubby girl with dyed blond hair and a fondness for old Army jackets and ripped jeans. Sheila had been a model student, so Abby’s grungy style and rebellious attitude had kept Sheila from pursuing a close friendship. Now brunette, slim and tastefully dressed, Abby didn’t look anything like her high-school self and had mellowed considerably. She’d become Sheila’s frequent companion for movies and shopping expeditions. “Even I didn’t recognize you when I walked in here the first day on the job,” Sheila admitted.

  The switchboard buzzed, and Abby picked up a headset and transferred the call while Sheila checked the computer to see how reservations were going for the month. She had a hard time concentrating on the screen. She kept seeing the change in those brilliant green eyes when she’d mentioned the scuba-diving club.

  Abby finished with the phone call and came to stand beside her. “So our hunk of burning love turns out to be Mr. Wagner. Not that Mr. Wagner isn’t kind of cute. Lots of us had crushes on him, remember?”

  Sheila pushed a button and scrolled through the next few days of reservations. “Weren’t you the one who baked him cookies every week?”

  “Yeah, and it didn’t help my grade one bit, either. It’s a sorry situation when a teacher can’t be bribed with chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Did you know he’s only five years older than we are?”

  “What, you asked him his age?”

  Sheila focused her attention on the computer screen. “No, he volunteered it.”

  “That seems like a strange thing to do.”

  Perhaps it was, Sheila thought, growing more uncomfortable with the situation. She sincerely hoped Mr. Wagner hadn’t been flirting with her.

  “Exactly what did you two talk about?” Abby persisted.

  “Chief Black Hawk, and the fact that I dated Dennis Hopkins in high school. And then I asked him if he was still sponsoring the scuba club. That’s when he sort of spaced out on me.”

  Abby slapped her forehead and groaned. “You brought up the scuba club?”

  Sheila turned from the screen, puzzled by Abby’s stricken expression. “What was wrong with that?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  “His wife died in a scuba accident four years ago.”

  Sheila caught her breath as relief that he wasn’t a sleazeball was followed swiftly by regret for her insensitive comments. “Oh, God. No wonder he looked like that while I prattled on about his Indiana Jones image, roaming the seas looking for treasure. How awful. How perfectly awful.”

  “I guess you were working in Chicago then, but I’m surprised somebody didn’t tell you in a letter or on one of your visits home.”

  “I wish somebody had! It would have saved me from making a fool of myself and causing him to get upset. Damn. Now I suppose I should go tomorrow, just so I can apologize, although I’m not looking forward to it, under the circumstances.”

  “Go?” Abby cocked her head. “You’re going somewhere with him?”

  “He threw out the suggestion that I might be interested in visiting the encampment tomorrow. It’s no big deal.”

  “Was this before or after you put your foot in your mouth?”

  “After.”

  Abby leaned on the desk and propped her chin in her hand as she studied Sheila.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m thinking about the fact that he told you his age, remembered you right away and asked you down to the encampment. Add that to the information that he’s a widower, and what do you get?”

  Secretly Sheila had been thinking the same thing, but Abby’s obvious insinuation brought heat to her cheeks and a curl of tension to her stomach. “For goodness’ sake! He’s Mr. Wagner, our old history teacher!”

  “Not so old, apparently. And judging from the way he filled out that buckskin, he’s holding up well for his age.”

  “Abby, it feels so strange to think of him like that. I can’t imagine actually going out with him, can you?”

  “Going out with our history teacher, Mr. Wagner? No. Having a wild fling with that beautiful man in buckskin? Definitely. I just have to make some mental adjustments to superimpose one image over the other. I’m off duty in the morning, and I’ll bet the lodge could survive without you for an hour or so. Why don’t we go down to the encampment together?”

  Sheila’s heart thumped erratically. “I don’t know about this, Abby.”

  “I do. You may have reservations about taking up with a former teacher, but I don’t. He invited you, so I’ll just tag along and check him out. Sounds like he might be getting lonely.”

  As much as Sheila resisted the idea of Douglas Wagner as a potential date for herself, she wasn’t quite ready to turn him over to Abby, eithe
r. “Don’t forget I won the toss.”

  “Oh, ho! You’re not as reluctant as you pretend!”

  A vision of Douglas’s green eyes and broad shoulders vied against an older picture of an unapproachable role model. “I don’t know what I am, except very confused.”

  “Look, it’s simple. We’ll meet in the parking lot at nine in the morning and walk down to the encampment together. I think we’ll know very shortly if he’s interested in either one of us.” Abby grinned. “And may the best woman win.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  DOUGLAS’S FOOTSTEPS CRUNCHED across the frozen grass and his breath fogged the air as he neared the encampment. At his approach, a white-tailed deer that had been foraging in the meadow bounded away into the protective covering of the trees. Cold crept through the laces fastening Douglas’s shirt, and he looked forward to the warmth of a buffalo robe around his shoulders and the heat of a fire.

  The scent of wood smoke and the aroma of cooked food drifted toward him. Beside the frozen lake, eight dome-shaped wigwams housed the Native American side of the conflict, ten Army tents the men portraying frontier soldiers. Historically, wives wouldn’t have accompanied their husbands on an Indian campaign, so the women reenactors played camp followers, the frontier version of prostitutes.

  Valerie Positano had no husband, however, and she seemed to be taking the camp-follower role seriously when it came to Douglas. He’d retreated to the lodge for a drink in order to escape her. As he walked toward his wigwam he glanced around warily, but didn’t see her lurking anywhere nearby. He did, however, see his old college buddy, Charlie, dressed in a navy blue wool Army jacket and white breeches, coming out of the woods with an armload of firewood. And Charlie had much to answer for.

  Douglas walked over to meet him. “What did you tell that woman about me, Charlie?”

  Charlie tried to look innocent behind his bushy red beard. “You mean Valerie?”

  “You know damn well who I mean. When I agreed to spend this weekend as a reenactor, I didn’t think you had ulterior motives.”

  “I didn’t. Swear to God. Bringing Valerie along was Cathy’s idea, not mine.”

  “Oh, sure. Blame Cathy.”

  Charlie had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Okay. When Cathy pointed out that you aren’t seeing anybody, I sort of agreed it would be good for you to meet some single women. Tyler’s a small town, and if you’ll pardon my saying so, teachers have a boring image to uphold.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Face it, Douglas. With your job, you have to come across as sexless, especially in this day and age of lawsuits. Cathy thought this weekend would give you a chance to loosen up.”

  “I see.”

  Charlie shifted the wood in his arms. “You have to admit you don’t have much of a social life down here. If you’d take a teaching job in Milwaukee, we could introduce you to lots of—”

  “Hey, I like Tyler, and I don’t feel desperate about beefing up my social life. Tell Cathy to stop worrying about me.”

  “It’s not just Cathy,” Charlie admitted. “I’m worried, too. Look, we’ve been friends for a long time—you, me, Cathy...and Joanne, God rest her soul. I miss her, too, and so does Cathy. But life goes on. I may complain about the twins, but I wouldn’t give up those little girls for the world.” He grinned. “Although I’m willing to forgo their presence for a weekend alone with Cathy.”

  Douglas fought a pang of envy. Charlie and Cathy had the kind of lusty, loving relationship he’d always wanted and never really had, not even with Joanne. And he was glad for his friends’ happiness. But sometimes, when he happened to catch Charlie giving Cathy an affectionate pinch on the behind, or he heard her whisper something suggestive in Charlie’s ear, Douglas felt very deprived, indeed.

  “Anyway, to put it bluntly,” Charlie continued, “if you still want to have kids...”

  Douglas sighed. Charlie was the only person in the world he would suffer through this conversation with, and he still wasn’t crazy about doing it. “Of course I want to have kids. But I refuse to grab the first fertile woman I can find and start breeding. I have these quaint ideas about love and shared values.”

  “I take it Valerie’s not your type.”

  “Do you think she is?”

  “No.” Shorter by five inches, Charlie glanced up at Douglas. “But you have to start somewhere.”

  “I don’t plan to start with Valerie. I’ve tried to be polite because she’s Cathy’s cousin, but the woman is unbearably persistent.”

  Charlie grinned. “From the comments I’ve heard from some of the women, it’s mostly your fault. Even Cathy’s noticed how studly you look in that buckskin. You’ve been compared favorably with Daniel Day-Lewis.”

  “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. Valerie may not be right for you, but we’ll draw a crowd of spectators in the next two days. Maybe someone more compatible will show up. Women usually love watching the hatchet-throwing contest. You’re still competing in that event, right?”

  “Yeah. I was planning to get in some practice tomorrow morning.” Douglas flexed his shoulders. “Now that I realize how tight this thing is, I’m afraid I’ll split the shirt with the first throw.”

  Charlie waggled his eyebrows. “Then undo the laces. You’ll have women falling at your feet.”

  Douglas braced his hands on his hips and studied his friend, who was beginning to get on his nerves with this constant theme of finding him a woman. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think this whole weekend was some elaborate plot you and Cathy cooked up just so I could get lucky.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, but if opportunity knocks, don’t slam the tent flap on her, my friend. See you around the fire circle tonight.” Charlie started toward the large bonfire already blazing in the middle of the clearing.

  “Unless Cathy says something to Valerie, I’m making myself scarce for the next few hours.”

  Charlie paused and glanced back at him. “That bad, huh?”

  “From the signals she was giving off, I’m afraid if I’m even remotely friendly she’ll appear unannounced in my tent tonight. If she does, I’m sending her back out, which would embarrass us both.”

  “Valerie doesn’t usually come on so strong. I’ll bet it’s the widower thing. Women are sure you need tending to, if you know what I mean.”

  Douglas sighed. “Maybe Cathy can convince her otherwise.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But keep your powder dry, buddy. You never know who else might turn up in the next couple of days.”

  Douglas groaned and headed for his wigwam to get his cooking utensils for dinner. Charlie and Cathy were both good friends, but he’d have to convince them to stay out of the matchmaking business. When it came to that area of his life, he wanted to make his own choices.

  Which might explain why his thoughts kept turning to Sheila Lawson. Her intelligent hazel eyes and shiny blond hair were just as he’d remembered them from when she’d sat in his class years ago. But her bearing was more confident now and her voice well modulated instead of breathy and filled with giggles. Of course he’d been pleased to see her. Anytime an ex-student showed up who seemed to be doing well, he was gratified.

  Was that why you asked her to visit the encampment in the morning? questioned an inner voice.

  Sure it was, he told himself. He’d always liked Sheila Lawson—as a student, of course.

  He ducked under his tent flap and rummaged through his knapsack for a cast-iron skillet and a wooden spatula. To be honest, he’d been somewhat attracted to Sheila once. That could happen when a teacher was almost as young as his students. He might have fantasized about her a little. No harm in that.

  He paused and muttered a soft oath. Whom was h
e kidding? He’d been so worried about his attraction to Sheila that he’d all but abandoned his responsibilities as her teacher. He had thrust that guilty knowledge away thirteen years ago, but the sight of her today had brought back the whole nasty episode.

  Maybe he’d invited her to the encampment because he wanted to assure himself that she hadn’t been handicapped by his negligence. Or maybe he hoped that he’d finally be able to explain and ask her forgiveness. Or maybe it had nothing to do with assuaging his guilt. Because when he’d seen her looking up at him with that special light in her eyes that he remembered all too well, he’d realized that his fantasies about Sheila Lawson had never really disappeared.

  * * *

  SHEILA MADE SURE everyone on the evening staff had reported for work before she left the lodge at six that evening. Then she walked out on the darkened veranda, where a newly risen moon glinted off the frozen lake. Snowmobiles and four-wheel-drive vehicles had swirled patterns in the patchy snow until it looked like the top of a vanilla frosted cake.

  To her left near the edge of the lake the reenactment camp was clustered. Inside the circle created by wigwams and Army-style tents burned a large bonfire. Smaller fires in the wigwams made the dome-shaped structures glow like lamp shades in the deepening twilight. An elongated shadow caressed one of the wigwam walls, and Sheila wondered if it was Mr. Wagner. Douglas. She wondered if Abby had guessed right, that he was interested in a relationship beyond that of student and teacher. A tightening coil of anticipation made her shiver and button her wool coat.

  After watching the flickering shadow for a moment, she glanced to her right, far out across the lake. Sure enough, a square of light shone from the window of a dilapidated fishing shanty, indicating her father was still there. She could just make out the shape of his snowmobile parked beside it. About fifty yards beyond sat Gus Lemke’s shack, with a twin square of light reflected on the ice. Every ice fisherman on the lake had called it quits for the season except Gus Lemke and Emil Lawson. Locked in a sixty-year rivalry, they were determined to use the lake’s nonregulated status to catch Jumbo. On most other Wisconsin lakes, the huge walleye would have been out of season after March 1.