Paul shoved a spade beneath a potato plant, then lifted it and shook out the dirt. Tender vegetables clung to the roots. He’d had a good season. There would be plenty for eating and for trading.
Wiping sweat off his face with his shirtsleeve, he looked at the August sky. Ribbons of translucent clouds reached across the pale blue canopy. Fall was fast approaching.
He laid the shovel across the top of the wheelbarrow mounded with potatoes and pushed the cart to the root cellar. By the time he finished transferring the potatoes to wooden boxes, it was time to clean up. He was due at Patrick and Sassa’s by six o’clock for dinner.
Standing in an outdoor shower, Paul shivered while icy water splashed over his head and cascaded down his body. He quickly soaped down, then pulled a cord that released more water to rinse off most of the soap. He grabbed a towel and rubbed down to dry off. With the towel wrapped around his waist, he hurried indoors.
Freshly shaven and wearing clean clothes, Paul followed the trail to the Warrens’ place. Seeing movement in a thicket near the creek, he stopped. A massive set of antlers rose up from the bushes and seemed to rotate all by themselves. They rested on the head of an enormous moose. Using his tongue, the beast pulled greenery into his mouth. He’d been grazing on tender shoots that grew along the creek bank.
Paul never tired of watching the wildlife and now stood enthralled, gazing at the animal. The huge beast lowered his head with its heavy load and plucked more grass from the pool, capturing vegetation between bulbous lips. Seeming at peace with the world, he chewed contentedly.
At the shoulders, the animal must have been at least seven feet. He’d provide enough meat for an entire winter. Hope you’ll still be around come hunting season.
Reluctantly, Paul moved on.
When he arrived at the Warrens’, he was met by the two oldest boys, their arms loaded with firewood.
“Hello, Mr. Anderson,” Douglas said politely.
“Evening.”
“Hi,” Ethan said, flashing a smile over his pile of wood.
Paul hurried ahead of them and opened the cabin door. “Looks like your dad’s put you to work.”
“Mom,” Douglas said.
“I’m sure she appreciates the help.”
“She does,” Ethan said. “At least that’s what she always tells us.” He followed Douglas inside, and Paul followed.
When Paul stepped into the kitchen, Sassa looked over her shoulder at him. “Welcome!” she said, continuing to knead a mound of dough. “Hope you like biscuits.”
“If they’re yours, I do.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Patrick?”
“He’s getting turnips out of the garden.” She glanced out the kitchen window. “He’ll be back any minute. Sit.” She patted out the dough until it was about a half-inch thick.
Paul walked to the counter and stood beside her, watching. “I can taste them already.”
Lily came in, tying an apron around her waist. Her steps faltered when she saw Paul. She smiled, but the expression in her eyes was gloomy. “Hi.” She walked to the table where carrots were piled on a cutting board.
“Hello,” Paul replied.
Lily didn’t look up. He wondered what was wrong, but figured it wasn’t his business.
The door opened and Patrick stepped in, holding a handful of turnips by the stalks. “Howdy, neighbor.” He held up the vegetables. “Just getting the last of our supper.” He laid the vegetables in the sink, then strolled into the living room. “Come and sit.”
Paul settled into a threadbare armchair. “Looks like your garden’s doing well.”
“It is.” Patrick picked up a pipe and a packet of tobacco from an end table. He sifted the tobacco into the pipe and tapped it down. Striking a match, he held it over the bowl and took several small puffs until smoke curled into the air. He shook out the match and set it in an ashtray. Settling back in the chair, he said, “I’ve got more than enough vegetables for trading. Figure on making a trip to Susitna Station before the month’s out.”
“It’s been a good year.” Paul clasped his hands over his stomach. “I miss tomatoes and corn, though. Wish we could grow them up here.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “And fruit. Have you ever eaten an orange or apple fresh off the tree?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Used to have them all the time when I lived in California. Makes my mouth water just thinking about them. Nothing’s as good as fresh picked. What we get up here only resembles the real thing. Being picked half ripe and then shipped ruins the flavor.”
“We got wild berries. Ever see those down in California?”
“Sure. All kinds.” Paul felt as if he were defending his old home.
“Oh.” Patrick took several puffs off his pipe. “Do you know anyone who could ship you some fruit?”
“Yeah, but getting it up here fast enough is the challenge. Even if you pick it and ship the same day, it takes too long by steamer. It’d have to be flown in.” Paul could almost taste the crisp sweetness of a ripe apple.
“Someone could go down, get it, and then fly it back. How about Kate? Her family owns an apple farm.”
“That’s a long trip just for fruit. Course if she was already going down . . .”
“Didn’t she say she wanted to make a trip this summer?” Patrick asked.
“Don’t think it’s going to happen. She’s busy, and she hates losing flying time.” Paul wished she would make a trip. They could go together. He might even stop to see his family.
A dinner of caribou stew and biscuits was set on the table. Sassa called everyone to dinner. The boys dominated most of the table talk. They couldn’t wait to share the day’s adventures. They’d gone fishing and had spotted bear tracks along the creek. They’d also wandered over to Klaus’s place and helped him with his garden. Afterward he’d shown them how to whittle and promised to teach them more next time they came.
“Klaus is good with a knife and a chunk of wood. He’s carved some amazing figures of Alaskan birds and animals,” Patrick told Paul. “Ever see them?”
“Yeah. In fact, he gave me a real nice figurine of a moose. Real quality work.”
Lily was quieter than usual. She barely looked up the entire meal. Paul wondered what was troubling her.
“I did it again,” Paul said, setting down his fork. “Sassa, that was so good I made a pig out of myself.” He pushed away from the table.
Sassa smiled and cast a glance at her daughter. “Lily did a lot of the work.”
He looked at the young woman. “Thank you, Lily. Wonderful meal.”
An almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
Patrick patted his stomach. “How ’bout you and I take a walk?” he asked Paul.
“Good idea.”
The men followed a trail along the creek. The sound of buzzing insects and the smell of highbush cranberries were in the air. Paul told Patrick about the moose he’d seen.
“I saw him too, couple of days ago. What a brute.”
They ended up at a place where the trail sloped down to the creek. In the cool of evening, flies and mosquitoes danced across the top of calm waters. Occasionally a fish broke the surface to feed, leaving a circle of ripples.
“Nice here,” Patrick said, sitting on a log. He swatted at a mosquito. “Except for the blamed bugs.”
Paul sat beside him. The two stared at the water, listening to the sounds of approaching evening. The world quieted. Birds’ evening songs were joined by the chirp of squirrels. A splash announced the presence of an otter family across the creek.
Patrick pointed them out. “The two new kits made it through the summer.”
Silence settled between the two men again. Patrick ended the quiet and asked, “So, what do you figure you’ll be doing in the next year or two?”
“Don’t know for sure,” Paul said, thinking it an unusual question. “Probably what I’m doing right now.”
“You ever think about heading back to California?”
“No. Nothing there for me anymore.”
“What about your family?”
Paul wondered what was up. Patrick had always respected his privacy. “My life’s here now.”
“This is a fine place to put down roots.” Patrick picked up a stone and tossed it into the water where it plopped and sent out widening ripples. “Me and Sassa came out from Anchorage nearly twelve years ago. Built the place ourselves. We’ve had a good life.”
Paul rested his arms on his thighs, still staring at the water and wondering where Patrick was heading.
“We kept each other going. Couldn’t have done it alone.” He picked up another stone. “And the children have been a blessing.” He chucked the rock into the creek. “Man’s got to have children.”
Paul suddenly felt defensive. “Not everyone’s meant to have a family.”
Patrick continued, as if Paul hadn’t spoken. “Those boys are hard workers. Don’t know what I’d do without them. And Lily . . . well, she’s a treasure. Couldn’t have asked for a better daughter.” He glanced at Paul. “She’s a fine cook and a help to Sassa and me.”
Paul’s stomach tightened.
“Did you know that once she stood her ground against a grizzly? Brought it down with one shot, then skinned it out and put up the meat.” He rocked his whole upper body in a nod. “Not many women in the world can do that.”
“No, don’t imagine there are.”
Patrick took a deep breath and blew it out. “She’d make a fine wife.”
“She would.” Paul was used to Sassa playing matchmaker, but never Patrick. He wondered if Sassa had put him up to it.
Patrick turned serious eyes on Paul. “It would please me and Sassa if Lily were to marry a man . . . like you, Paul.”
“Me? I’m still green, a cheechako.” Trying to make light of the conversation, he grinned, but inside he felt sick and wished he could change the subject.
“All the more reason for the two of you to match up. You need her. She could teach you a lot.”
Paul pushed to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Are you asking me to marry your daughter?”
“You’d be a good match. And I’d be proud to have you as part of the family.”
Paul stared at the creek. It flowed quietly, barely moving, a picture of serenity. Inside Paul felt a drone of misery. Measuring his words carefully, he said, “I’m honored you feel that way. You and your family are like my own.” He turned and looked at Patrick. How could he explain? “Lily’s a fine person, but I don’t plan to marry.”
Patrick stood. “A man needs a woman, someone to share his life.”
“I had a wife once.” A tomb of silence fell between the men. “I’m better off alone.”
Patrick furrowed his brow. “I didn’t know you’d been married before.”
“It was a long time ago.” Paul took a step toward the stream and steered the conversation back to Patrick’s proposal. “And Lily’s still a girl.”
“Seventeen’s not that young. If you two get married, you can live on the crick. You both love it here. And she’d be close to her family, to Sassa.” He studied the otters. “And being married before doesn’t mean you can’t get married again.”
This was going to be more difficult than Paul had anticipated. Would it take the truth to stop Patrick? “What about love?” Paul broke off the top of a reed. “Lily doesn’t love me.”
“How do you know that? Have you ever asked her?”
Paul thought back over their exchanges. She had, at times, seemed interested in him. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t fit to be a husband.
“She’s pretty, smart, and hardworking. She’ll give you children.”
“Patrick. Stop.” Paul’s gut tightened. He knew what he needed to say. “You don’t want me for a son-in-law. I wouldn’t be a good husband.”
“What do you mean—”
“I killed my first wife.”
Patrick stared at him. “What do you mean? I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it. It’s true. She’d be alive today if not for me.” Memories pummeled Paul. “I thought I knew everything— me, the young and gifted doctor.” His voice dripped with derision. “I knew she wasn’t feeling well. She was nearly due to deliver our son and she wasn’t feeling well. She was retaining water and she’d had a seizure. I decided that bed rest would be enough.”
“What more could you do?” Patrick’s voice was filled with compassion.
“I should have put her in the hospital, delivered the baby . . . something.” Memories ripped through Paul. He’d found her in the hallway, facedown. She’d died of heart failure three days later.
Patrick put a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I was supposed to know. I was a doctor.” The strength seeped from Paul’s legs. He sat on the log and put his face in his hands. “She trusted me. I should have known.”
Patrick sat beside him and placed an arm over his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were a doctor. Go easy on yourself. Even doctors make mistakes.”
Paul gazed at Patrick through a blur of tears. “She was my wife.” He sucked in a ragged breath. “She and my son counted on me.” He swiped away tears and tried to focus on Patrick. “So, you see I can’t marry Lily or anyone else.”
“All I see is a man carrying a load of guilt . . . unnecessarily. God doesn’t hold you accountable for a mistake. You did your best. And your wife wouldn’t want you to throw away your life.”
“My best wasn’t good enough.” Paul shook his head. “And I don’t even know if I believe in God anymore. Where was he for Susan and our little boy?” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, holding back tears.
“Some questions in this life have no answers. But God knows.”
“I’m done with him and with marriage,” Paul nearly shouted and then stalked up the trail toward his cabin. Fresh anger and anguish swelled inside. He felt as if he’d been skinned. Would it never get better?
As he approached the cabin, he spotted Lily sitting on his porch steps. Before he could turn around, she saw him. Why was she there? Was she going to plead her case for marriage? He hoped not. He forced down his emotions, slowed his stride, and walked up to the porch.
She stood as he approached, but only glanced at him.
“Hello, Lily. Nice to see you.” He tried to keep his tone light. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“Didn’t figure you would.” She gripped the railing. “We should talk.”
“Sure.” Paul sat on the bottom step and motioned for her to sit.
She settled on the top step. “I know my dad talked to you tonight . . . about us getting married.”
“He did.”
“I can’t be silent.”
Paul steeled himself against what she had to say. He didn’t want to break her heart.
“I admire you, Paul, and I think you would make a fine husband.”
He groaned inwardly.
Lily looked out into the forest, then back at him. “I love my father and mother, and I want to make them happy, but . . . I can’t marry you.”
It took a moment for her words to penetrate his mind. They weren’t what he’d expected to hear.
“You’re a good man, but I want to get away from here. I want to see other places and meet new people. I’ve never been anywhere.”
Paul let out a relieved breath. “I don’t think your parents know how you feel.”
“They know. But they think I’m too young to make my own decisions.” She clasped her hands. “If I stay here and marry you, I could be happy—we would have a fine life, but I want more than fine. I want adventure. I want to be like Kate.”
“You want to be a pilot?”
“No. I want to be like her. She had a dream and she went after it. She’s so brave.” Lily looked at Paul, her brown eyes gentle. “I don’t think you want to marry me, either.”
“It’s not you, Lily. It’s just that I don’t want to marry anyone.” Jasper flew in and landed on his perch. “If you want to see the world, then I think you should.”
“There’s so much out there I want to experience.” Her voice trembled with excitement. “All I’ve seen are pictures of places. I want to see them for myself.”
“There’s lots of beauty in the world, but there’s evil out there too. And greedy people who could hurt you. You’ve got to be careful.”
“I know. But people like that live right here in the territory.” “True.” He studied Jasper who was preening. “Going away won’t necessarily make you happy. Happiness is something you possess, no matter where you live.”
Lily was quiet for a long moment, then asked, “But isn’t that why you came here? To find happiness?”
What could he say? Is that why he’d come? Finally he said, “I wasn’t looking for happiness exactly.”
“So, have you found what you came for?”
“Not yet.”
