Alaskan Holiday

by Debbie Macomber

  * * *

  —

  The rest of the morning sped past. It seemed like we’d been chatting only a few minutes when I realized it was time for lunch, and Angie mentioned she had to put the boys down for their naps soon. I hugged her good-bye and started back to the lodge.

  Jack found me on the return trip. “I see you were at Angie’s place,” he said, coming to walk alongside me.

  “We had a great visit.”

  I was about to thank him for getting the two of us together when he interrupted.

  “What’s for lunch?”

  “There’s plenty of caribou stew left,” I reminded him. “I froze it for you to enjoy after I’d left. And I really shouldn’t be using the Brewsters’ kitchen to be cooking for you.”

  “I agree,” he said, surprising me. “Think you should come to my cabin to cook, then. You gotta eat. I gotta eat. I’ll gladly give you whatever provisions you need in exchange for a home-cooked meal.”

  I eyed him suspiciously, unsure what the state of his kitchen might be.

  “What’s the problem?” he grumbled. “It sounds like a fair enough deal to me.”

  “Show me your kitchen first.”

  “Sure. No problem. I was thinking elk spaghetti for tonight.” Jack hunted wild game and his freezer was full of it, along with salmon, halibut, and other treasures from the Alaskan waters.

  I sighed. “You ever heard of plain old beef?”

  “Sure, I’ve heard of beef, just never seen a cow in the wilderness of Alaska. Would gladly eat one if I did. You coming or not?”

  I nodded my head. There was no debating with the man.

  After following Jack to his cabin, I was pleasantly surprised to find it clean and his kitchen well supplied and organized.

  “Why do you look so shocked?” he asked.

  “I can’t imagine,” I joked, and rolled up my sleeves.

  Cooking for a man who appreciated his food was a pleasure, I had to admit, and the two of us had a wonderful evening. I was going to miss this, and so much more.

  CHAPTER 7

  Palmer

  The steel blade I’d so carefully crafted had developed a crack. I groaned when I saw it, sick that I’d spent weeks working on this replica Civil War sword, polishing it to a fine sheen. Now I would be forced to start from the beginning. I threw back my head and groaned. I’d wanted to finish this project well before Christmas, but now that would be pushing it.

  If I had anyone to blame, the fault would fall squarely on Josie’s shoulders. She occupied far too much of my thoughts. I’d made the mistake of checking out the great Chef Anton online, and now I was riddled with doubts. The guy had it all. He was successful, and his restaurants were highly touted. I had to assume he was wealthy, and to top everything off, he was single and good-looking.

  I wanted to dislike the man, which was unfair and unlike me. My overriding fear was that Josie would fall for him. They’d be working closely together day in and day out. It would be only natural that two people with shared interests and who worked side by side would fall in love. I know, it was crazy. I was insanely jealous of a man I’d never met and, frankly, one that I hoped never to meet.

  For three days after Josie had missed that last ferry out of Ponder, she avoided me. For some screwy reason, she blamed me. This time apart made me realize that I had to do everything in my power to see that she made it back to Seattle. I loved her, and I wanted her to have this opportunity. What I hadn’t taken into consideration was Chef Anton’s role in how I was feeling. Seeing her go meant that the two of them might possibly end up together.

  My gut tightened. I wasn’t a man who suffered from doubts. That wasn’t who I was. I knew that Josie was heading home soon, and I’d made up my mind to do the best I could to keep the lines of communication open between us. If she fell for that handsome, rich chef whom she already admired, then she wasn’t the woman for me after all. In theory, my reasoning sounded good, but it didn’t do anything to lessen the pain in my gut.

  The one bright spot was that I’d heard from Jack that Josie and Angie had been spending time together. Steve and I were longtime friends. I remembered when he’d first met his wife and how crazy he was about Angie. They’d known each other only a few days before Angie returned for her senior year of college in Oregon. There had to be a lot of college boys interested in her. Steve had never given it a thought, at least not that he’d mentioned to me. They’d talked every day, emailed, kept in touch. I was determined to do the same—I’d make sure I wasn’t ever far from her thoughts by keeping the lines of communication open. I wasn’t giving up on us, not by a long shot.

  Hobo interrupted me and wanted out. I could use a break as well. I grabbed my coat from the hook by the door and walked toward town, my boots crunching into the hard snow.

  Hobo did his business and quickly returned to my side. As I neared town, I happened to catch a glimpse of Josie. She was outside of Steve and Angie’s cabin, playing with their youngest boy, Oliver. I stood frozen in place as I watched them playing some silly kid’s game in the snow. Seeing Josie with the little boy, I was mesmerized, dreaming of the day she would be playing with a child of our own. A man could hope.

  She must have felt my presence because she looked in my direction and smiled. The simple action went through me like a hot spoon digging into a bowl of ice cream. Raising her hand, she gave me a small wave before Oliver hit her square in the stomach with a snowball. Throwing her head back and laughing, she took off and chased after the boy, grabbing him by the waist and twirling him around.

  I don’t think I could have loved her more at that moment; my heart felt like it was melting inside my chest. I didn’t know how it would ever be possible for me to watch her leave, and I knew the time would fly by before I would have to do just that.

  Hobo barked when he saw Oliver and Josie, and took after them. I reluctantly followed, fearing Josie would sense my vulnerability to her and the power she held over me.

  Oliver dropped to his knees to play with Hobo while I joined Josie. “Hey,” I said, finding my tongue thick and my speech awkward.

  She beamed a brilliant smile at me, and I swear it was all I could do to refrain from pulling her toward me and kissing her senseless.

  “Hey,” she said.

  For a few uncomfortable moments all we did was stare at each other, until she broke the ice.

  “I’m cooking for Jack tonight at his place. You want to join us?”

  After all the meals Jack had helped himself to at my cabin, I didn’t hesitate. “Sure. What time?”

  She shrugged, as if she hadn’t considered that. “We’ll eat when you arrive.”

  “Okay.” Why, oh why, did she have to be so perfect?

  “Palmer? Palmer?” Oliver jerked at the bottom of my jacket. With my full focus on Josie, I hadn’t paid any attention to the four-year-old.

  “Yes, Oliver?” I asked, squatting down so we were at eye level.

  “Can Hobo stay and play with us?” Oliver’s cheeks were red from the cold and his chubby face was round and hopeful.

  I looked up at Josie. “It’s all right with me,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, have fun.”

  “You want me to bring him home once we’re ready to go inside?”

  Hobo knew his way to the shop on his own. I think what she was asking was if she would be interrupting me and my work when she brought him back. Not one to miss the opportunity to see her, my answer was clear.

  “That would be great.”

  Josie gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and my heart felt like it was going to break free of my chest. This woman! How would I ever find the strength to let her go?

  * * *

  —

  When Josie dropped off the dog a bit later, we spent more time kissing than talking. A full t
hree hours passed before she left, and I returned to my workshop and to the blade I’d spent a copious amount of time designing and creating. This was by far my most prestigious commission, and it was important that I provide a product worthy of the trust placed in me. Bottom line: I would need to start all over, as there was no way to repair the crack in the blade. I was about to get started when my workshop door opened and Jack stepped inside, looking cheerful and happy. Hobo got up from his bed to greet my friend.

  “I’m busy,” I told him. I’d spent the better part of the afternoon with Josie and needed to get back to work.

  “Saw Josie was here.”

  “Yup.” I ignored him as best I could and built up the fire, ready to melt the steel.

  “She said she invited you to dinner.”

  “She did.” I added wood to the burner.

  “At my cabin.”

  “She mentioned that, too.”

  “She’s cooking.”

  “Know that.” I dug for a fresh piece of steel in my pile.

  “You gonna be there?”

  “I’ll be there. Listen, Jack, I really need to get back to work. We’ll connect later, okay?” I looked toward the door, hoping he’d take the hint.

  He buried his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. “You really going to let her leave?”

  “I don’t have a choice, Jack. It’s not like I can kidnap her and force her to stay.”

  His eyes widened. “Maybe you couldn’t, but I could.”

  “Jack, of all the ridiculous ideas!”

  “ ’Course, she’d be upset for the first few days. She’d get over it, though. No need letting her know you were in on the plan. I wouldn’t tie her up or anything, just keep her locked in the kitchen. She’d need her hands free to prepare meals. What do you think?”

  “You’re off your ever-lovin’ rocker. Don’t even think of doing anything that stupid. Promise me, Jack. Josie would never forgive you. I’d never forgive you. And worse yet, she’d blame me.”

  The older man’s shoulders sank with defeat. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  “Promise me,” I emphasized.

  “Promise,” he muttered, and started toward the door. “Josie said we wouldn’t eat until you arrived. I like my meals early, so don’t be late.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I replied, trying to hide my amusement.

  And with that, Jack was gone.

  * * *

  —

  I worked late into the afternoon, well past dusk, and knew Jack would be pacing with impatience by the time I decided to quit for the day. I was making progress on the sword, but I’d lost valuable time.

  It’d been hours since I’d last eaten and I had to admit I was hungry. Earlier in the week, Jack had brought me a fresh loaf of sourdough bread Josie had baked, still warm, fresh from the oven. The butter had melted, soaking into the bread. It was delicious. The best. I’d devoured the entire loaf within two days. My mind imagined Josie in the kitchen, kneading the dough and then shaping it into loaves before baking it. I’d held that thought in my mind long afterward. I hoped she’d have time to bake again before she left, although I had the feeling I’d be fighting Jack for a share.

  I hurriedly headed out the door. Hobo was fed, and I left him at home, although he wasn’t happy about it. When I reached Jack’s cabin, I knocked on the door and didn’t wait for a response before I let myself in. I was greeted by the most wonderful aroma of chili.

  Jack, who’d been sitting by the fireplace, immediately leapt to his feet. “It’s about time,” he said, exasperated. “My stomach is as hollow as an empty well. It’s been torture waiting for you. Don’t you ever look at your phone?”

  “My phone?” I repeated.

  “Jack sent you a text,” Josie explained.

  I arched my thick brows. “You know how to text?”

  “Josie taught me, and I didn’t send you just one, I sent six.”

  Swallowing a grin, I apologized. “I’m sorry for the delay.”

  “As you should be. I told you I like to eat early.” Jack had already taken his place at the table and held his spoon upright, letting us know he was ready to be served.

  Josie went into the kitchen and I followed. “You need any help?” I asked.

  She handed me a platter of corn bread. “You can take this to the table, but keep it away from Jack. He’s eaten half the pan as it is.”

  That didn’t come as a surprise. “Will do.” I carried the plate over to the table and set it at the far end while Josie delivered a large pot of chili, which she set in the middle.

  Jack bowed his head and said a shortened version of grace. “Good friends, good meat. Good God, let’s eat!”

  Chuckling, I reached for the corn bread before handing the plate to Josie, who asked me about the sword. Soon we were all talking and laughing together. This was the thing with Josie. She was easy to talk to, easy to be with, and even easier to love.

  When the meal was finished, Josie and I washed dishes while Jack set up Yahtzee, a game he enjoyed. We played for an hour and Jack won both games. We might have stayed longer if Jack hadn’t pointedly yawned, indicating that he was ready for us to go. While Josie put the game away, I grabbed my coat and then helped her into hers. After saying good night to Jack, we left together.

  I offered Josie my arm and she took it as we strolled toward the lodge. For the first few minutes we were both silent, and then we started to speak at the same time.

  “I wanted—”

  “I’m sorry about the sword—”

  “You first,” I said, and gestured with my hand for her to speak.

  “I was about to say how much I enjoyed spending time with you this afternoon.”

  Thinking about the kisses we’d shared and the books we’d discussed reminded me how empty my life would feel once she returned to Seattle. I didn’t allow myself to dwell on that. “Me, too.”

  “It’s been a good day. I especially liked getting to know Angie better.”

  “You mentioned that you had a nice visit with her this afternoon.”

  Josie nodded and looked down at her boots, appearing to have more to say. “Angie told me how she and Steve met and how they stayed in touch once she went back to college.”

  I knew the story well, having been friends with Steve for years.

  “I’m hoping…” she said and paused. “What I’m trying to say is that when I go back to Seattle it doesn’t need to be the end for us.”

  My spirits rose. “I know I don’t want it to be.”

  She looked toward me, her face glowing in the moonlight. “You’ll keep in touch?”

  “Sure. Will you?” She had to do her part. This couldn’t all be one-sided.

  “Of course. Be patient with me, though. I’m going to have a lot of responsibilities at Chez Anton.”

  “The name of the restaurant is Chez Anton?”

  To my surprise, Josie giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Just now. You said Chef’s name like you were sucking on a lemon. What is it with you and him? Ever since you admitted to looking him up online, you’ve been sort of weird about him.”

  She was right. I didn’t realize I’d been so open in my dislike and distrust of the other man. “Yeah, well, he can offer you more than I ever could.”

  “All he’s offering me is a job, Palmer. It isn’t like we’re romantically involved.”

  Not yet, you mean, I added silently to myself.

  We neared the lodge and I looked at Josie. She glanced up at me, her eyes connecting with mine, the moonlight shining down on us both. For one crazed moment I was caught up in her beauty and found it impossible to breathe.

  “I leave soon,” she whispered.

  I was happy to hear the
regret in her voice. “Next Friday,” I stated, already dreading the day.

  Josie wrapped her arm around my mine and leaned her head against me all the way back to the lodge. We continued walking slowly until we reached the lodge steps.

  “I’m going to miss you something awful,” she whispered.

  I thought I heard her voice crack. I was about to take her in my arms and assure her that the feelings were mutual when she broke away, hurried inside, and closed the door.

  Shocked, I stood outside as large snowflakes started to fall. I would miss her, too, something awful.

  CHAPTER 8

  Josie

  In the time that followed the dinner with Jack and Palmer, I’d spent nearly every spare minute with Palmer. Because he needed to work on the commission for the sword, I left him to himself in the mornings. At noon I brought him lunch and the two of us would sit and eat together. We talked and laughed, and before I knew it half the afternoon was gone.

  Although I didn’t have a lot of experience with men, I’d never met anyone who made me as comfortable as Palmer did. He shared stories about his father, who had worked for a military contractor in Alaska, traveling all over the world, while the family had stayed behind in a town about a hundred miles north of Fairbanks. In addition to bringing souvenirs back for Palmer and his sister, Alicia, he’d tell them tales from his travels in Lebanon, Jordan, and Italy, to name only a few. As an adult, Palmer had been content to remain in Alaska, although he’d worked briefly in the Aleutian Islands before settling in Ponder. His parents had retired in Anchorage but continued to travel. Alicia, older than Palmer by two years, had married, started a family, and settled down in Fairbanks. From what I could tell, Palmer and his sister were close.