Alaskan Holiday

by Debbie Macomber

  We spent the evenings in his cabin, each of us reading, content simply to be together. Palmer was well read, and we often discussed the books we were reading, but we didn’t need lengthy conversations to communicate. If you didn’t know us, you’d have thought we were an old married couple, so attuned to each other that words weren’t necessary. When he walked me back to the lodge at night, he would take me in his arms and kiss me until my knees grew weak and I clung to him. Every night it was harder and harder to let him return to his cabin alone.

  Deep down I knew Palmer was wishing that I’d have a change of heart and remain in Ponder. He’d never asked me again, though, and I appreciated that he didn’t, because, quite frankly, I didn’t know if I could refuse him a second time. Leaving Ponder loomed on the horizon, and I knew without question that I would need to go.

  I was tempted to stay.

  So tempted.

  But I feared if I did that one day, I’d look back on my life and regret it. I would remember that decision and ask myself where my career might have taken me if I hadn’t given up this opportunity. The desire to pursue my dreams outweighed the temptation.

  The remaining days before Sawyer was due to arrive passed far too quickly. I’d begun crossing them off on the calendar in my room. I stared at the one blank space left before the ski-plane was scheduled to land on the now frozen lake. My suitcase was ready, my drawers empty. My flight arrangements from Fairbanks into Seattle had been rebooked. Mom was counting the hours until she could hug me again.

  My own feelings were mixed. I longed to get back to Seattle with the same intensity that I desired to stay in Ponder. One minute I was convinced I couldn’t leave Palmer, and the next I was equally determined to go.

  For my final night, Angie and Steve invited Jack, Palmer, and me for a farewell dinner and party. My mood, as I dressed for this final evening with my friends, was anything but festive. I sniffled as I reached for my coat to walk to the Wilkersons’ cabin, unsure how I was going to manage to get through the evening without breaking into tears.

  When I left the lodge, I found Palmer pacing back and forth across the lodge porch, his fists bunched at his sides.

  “Palmer?”

  He stopped abruptly and whirled around to face me. “You ready?”

  “Palmer, are you okay?”

  He exhaled and slowly nodded. He didn’t tell me what was eating at him, but I knew. He, too, hated the thought of me leaving come morning, but neither of us spoke of it, not wanting to make this any more difficult than it already was. He forced a grin and I struggled to hold back tears. I refused to let my emotions take over—otherwise, the entire evening would be ruined. No way was I going to get all maudlin in front of my friends.

  Palmer must have read the agony in my eyes, because he brought me into his arms and hugged me, holding me close and tight like he never wanted to release me.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, reluctantly letting me go.

  “No, it isn’t,” I replied. “This is killing me, Palmer. You made me fall in love with you, and now I’m miserable.”

  “We’ve talked about this, Josie. You’ll go to Seattle, work with Chef Allen.”

  He grinned as he said the name, teasing me.

  “And we’ll figure everything out from there,” he continued.

  “You’ll come visit?” I knew he intended to deliver the sword to the East Coast sometime in December, and that seemed the perfect time for a layover in Seattle.

  He hesitated and then nodded.

  Tossing my arms around his neck, I rose on the tips of my toes to kiss him. Despite my best effort to hold back my tears, I sniffled. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t cry,” he murmured, groaning. “Your tears are kryptonite.”

  “That’s the problem. You think you’re Superman.”

  Not wanting it to end, we begrudgingly broke apart, knowing we had to get to the party. Palmer placed his arm around my shoulders, bringing me close to his side. I leaned against him, needing his strength.

  “We’d better go, or we’ll be late.”

  The last thing I felt like doing was attending a party, especially a party celebrating me.

  * * *

  —

  Despite my initial mood, we had a wonderful evening. Angie and Steve were gracious hosts. Angie had cooked a delicious dinner, and then games followed that included the adults and the two boys. When it was time for Mason and Oliver to go to bed, Steve carried his sons, one under each arm, up the stairs to their bedroom. Jack and Palmer tagged along because they were recruited to tell the boys a story before their lights were turned off for the night.

  With the men out of the room, I helped Angie with the dinner dishes, scraping the plates before setting them in the dishwasher. “It’s going to be hard to leave come morning,” I commented.

  Angie dried her hands on a dishtowel. “I remember Steve driving me to the airport after our first three days together. We’d known each other such a short time; I was already half in love with him. I almost missed my plane because neither one of us could find a way to say good-bye. I realize it sounds trite, but I believe things turn out the way they were meant to be.”

  More than anything, I wanted to believe that was true. “It’s hard to go…hard to leave…”

  “Trust me, I know that all too well,” Angie said, reassuring me with a gentle pat on my shoulder. “I did, and it was for the best. It was months before we saw each other again. It all worked out in the end, and it will for you and Palmer, too.”

  “Keep an eye on Palmer for me, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  “He works too hard and skips meals.” I needed to know that someone would look after him.

  “I’ll make sure we have him over for dinner at least once a week.”

  “Jack, too?” I’d grown especially fond of the old sourdough.

  I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes and blinked several times to keep them at bay.

  “You want me to feed Jack?” she cried in mock horror. “That man eats more than six hungry lumberjacks.”

  “He does,” I agreed.

  “Now, stop those tears,” Angie said, swiping at the moisture gathering under her eyes. “Much more of this and we’ll both be sobbing.”

  I knew she was right, and we half laughed and half cried, unable to decide which emotion was the strongest, each of us flipping between the two. “I’ll keep in touch,” I promised.

  “I will, too.”

  Angie turned back to the sink. Then, almost as if she found it necessary to share the realities of life near the tundra, she added, “If you do decide to marry Palmer, you should know that living in Ponder won’t always be easy. Love will carry you only so far.”

  “You made the transition,” I reminded her. I appreciated Angie’s words of advice. I’d enjoyed the six months I’d spent in the area, but it wasn’t anywhere close to being Shangri-la. It was the first time in my life I’d lived in a place where I couldn’t reach a fresh market within twenty minutes, not to mention an emergency medical facility. Even the Ponder post office closed in the off-season. I’d never heard of such a thing.

  “Steve asked me to give it a year,” Angie explained. “He told me that at the end of that time, if I wanted to move, then he agreed that we would move to a larger town.”

  “You chose to stay, though.”

  “I did, although I was pregnant with Mason before our first anniversary. By then I’d come to love the town and the people. Could I really leave Lilly or Jack and the other friends I’d made? In the end, I realized Ponder had become my home, too.”

  “But you found a way to make use of your degree. There isn’t that opportunity for me here,” I argued. Angie could write her books in this remote place, and yes, of course, I could always cook for the lodge, but that was
n’t going to be enough for me. Not after all the sacrifices I’d made to get a culinary degree. Angie brought up the idea about writing a food blog, but without access to fresh ingredients year-round, it seemed out of the question. As far as I could figure, few, if any, employment options existed for me in Ponder.

  Angie and I had finished the dishes when the men returned from putting the boys to bed. We all gathered in front of the fireplace, and Steve brought out a bottle of wine.

  “Been saving this for a special occasion,” he said and sighed. “Guess Josie leaving tomorrow is it, although I don’t think any one of us is celebrating the fact.”

  Angie joined her husband and placed her arms around him. “Actually, I have a piece of good news. It looks like Mason and Oliver are going to be big brothers.”

  It took Steve a couple seconds to understand that he was about to become a dad for the third time. When he did, he let out a whoop of joy, grabbed Angie around the waist, and whirled her around.

  Once he released Angie, I hugged her, while Jack and Palmer slapped Steve across the back. Steve poured wine for us all, and Angie grabbed a glass of apple juice as we all saluted the latest addition to the population of Ponder, Alaska.

  When the evening was over, Palmer walked me back to the lodge. We had our arms around each other the entire way, clinging to each other before it became necessary to part.

  “Sawyer said he’d be landing around nine-thirty, right around sunrise.”

  I already knew the time and wished it wasn’t so early. I wanted to delay my departure as long as possible.

  “Will you walk me out to the dock in the morning?” I asked, not wanting to waste a single minute we had left.

  His hesitation surprised me.

  “Palmer?” I asked, when he didn’t respond.

  “Forgive me, Josie, but I don’t know that I can.”

  His refusal shocked me. I understood his reluctance; I had my own. A good-bye, no matter how brief, would be difficult.

  “I don’t know if I have the strength to let you go,” he admitted. “It might be best if we said our good-byes now.”

  I didn’t like it, but I understood.

  With his arms around me and his lips close to my neck, he said, “I need you to do one last favor for me.”

  “Anything.” I was struggling not to cry.

  “When you get back to Seattle, please don’t tell me anything about Chef Allen.”

  “Anton.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “You know who I mean.”

  I considered his request and frowned, needing to make sure I understood what he was asking and why. “You don’t want me to tell you anything about him? That’s nuts. Why not?”

  Palmer eased away from me and rubbed a hand down his beard. He looked utterly miserable. “He’s perfect for you, and—”

  “Palmer!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “No, hear me out. Please. I’m already jealous that he’s going to be spending all that time with you. He’s everything I’m not. I realize I sound like a whiny little boy and I apologize, but for my sanity, keep that relationship with the chef entirely to yourself.”

  “I’m not going to be dating him, Palmer. Not ever. I know better than to mix my professional and personal life. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Maybe not. Time will tell.”

  His request shocked me. I didn’t know what he’d read about Chef Anton that made him think I’d fall for the renowned restaurant owner. I wasn’t a fickle teenager, after all. And I loved Palmer.

  “You need to trust me. First off, I’m not the least bit attracted to him, and second, I refuse to jeopardize my career by dating my boss.”

  “You say that now, but—”

  “Palmer,” I said, “you’re being ridiculous.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You are!” I insisted. “It’s you I love.”

  I wanted to continue defending myself further, but Palmer knew the most effective way to cut me off was to gather me in his arms and kiss me one last time. And, oh, what a kiss it was. He made sure with one single intense meeting of our lips that I would never forget him.

  * * *

  —

  The following morning, I secured the lodge, with the promise to the Brewsters to drop the key in the mail to them upon my return to Seattle. I was down on the dock when the ski-plane landed. Once the engine was cut, the plane coasted on the ice toward me. Sawyer climbed out and tied the plane to the dock because of a mild breeze.

  “You must be Josie,” he said.

  “That’s me.”

  “You ready to go?”

  That might well have been the most important question asked of me in my entire life. I couldn’t respond verbally, so I nodded. I handed him my gear, and Sawyer O’Halloran loaded it into the back of the plane, offering me his hand to help me aboard.

  Once inside the Cessna, I strapped myself in and looked out the window at Ponder, tears making wet tracks down my cheeks as the engine roared to life. Within a matter of minutes, we were in the air, circling over the lake.

  As I looked at the beautiful town in the early sunlight one last time, I saw a lone figure down below. His face was raised to the sky as we flew into the distance.

  Even if I hadn’t recognized his coat and Hobo at his side, I would have known who it was.

  CHAPTER 9

  Palmer

  It seemed like forever since Josie flew out of Ponder. In the beginning we talked nearly every day. Long conversations that sometimes lasted up to two hours. I never knew that two people could have so much to talk about, but we did. We shared experiences from our childhoods, and we talked about our hopes for the future, our dreams and goals. Josie kept her promise and didn’t mention Chef Anton, and I was grateful.

  I had revamped my design for the sword and it was coming along well. I was proud of the work I’d done. Although Josie understood little of my profession, she listened intently as I explained each step of the process and was genuinely interested in what I did. She told me about the menu she’d helped to create, and how well the restaurant opening had gone. There’d been several bumps that needed to be smoothed out with the kitchen and serving staff the first few days. From the sounds of it, she’d handled all the necessary “fixes” professionally without ruffling egos, which is hard to do in that line of work, she said.

  As time went on, I could tell she was exhausted, and her calls came later and later in the night. Although I didn’t ask, I couldn’t help but wonder exactly what the high-and-mighty Chef Anton contributed to the running of the business. From everything Josie said, she bore the brunt of the responsibility and the burden. Admittedly, my knowledge of the restaurant world was completely nil. For all I knew, the chef could be working his fingers to the bone right alongside her.

  It was Thanksgiving Day, and Josie had been scheduled to spend the entire day at the restaurant, as it was known to be one of the busiest days in the industry. Missing her the way I did, I had thought about flying into Seattle and surprising her. I decided against it because she was working sixty hours a week or longer and I knew we would have little time together. In fact, we hadn’t talked by phone in two days. Quick, short text messages from her still came, but the calls stopped.

  Early that morning, I sat at the table in my sister’s kitchen, staring at my phone. A brief message popped up from Josie, which shocked me. It was still early in Seattle. Seven in the morning, and she was already at work. The last message I’d gotten from her was just after she left the restaurant at midnight, her time, which meant she had had only a few hours’ sleep.

  Miss you.

  Miss you back.

  It’s going to be hectic today. I’ll call you once I’m home.

  I stared at the text, unsure how to respond. She worked so hard, and for what? She’d repea
tedly told me she loved what she did. That was all well and good, but these long hours? They had to be killing her.

  When’s your next day off?

  Unsure. Can’t talk now. Sorry. Love you.

  Exhaling sharply, I flipped my phone upside down on the table, frustrated.

  My sister joined me in the kitchen. “You’re looking thoughtful for this early in the morning,” Alicia said. She had a robe over her pajamas and wore a ridiculous pair of bunny-rabbit slippers.

  I’d flown into Fairbanks the day before, looking for an escape from the doldrums that had plagued me since Josie’s departure. Sawyer mentioned that he had to make a trip into Fairbanks to pick up an airplane part and offered to stop for me on the way through. The timing was perfect, and I eagerly joined him, anxious for the distraction.

  “It’s Thanksgiving, Brother—a day to count our blessings, not our misgivings.”

  “I know what day it is.” But Alicia was right. I should be thinking positive thoughts instead of filling my head with concerns about Josie.

  My sister rolled up the sleeves of her robe and opened the refrigerator to retrieve the twenty-pound turkey, setting it inside the kitchen sink. I would have asked if she needed help, but she had it handled.

  “You should have let me do that,” I mildly chastised her.

  “I’m not a weakling, you know.”

  No one would accuse my sister of that. She was a veteran police officer and was fully capable of taking down a man twice her size.

  “How long has it been now?” she asked.

  I knew what she was asking but played dumb. “Since when?”

  With her hand braced against her hip, my sister turned to face me, her look intense, letting me know she wasn’t fooled. “How long has it been since you saw Josie last?”

  “Josie who?” I asked, teasing her. Without success, I tried to hold back a smile. The corners of my mouth trembled and were a dead giveaway.